#peter parker angst
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àŒàŒàż don't smile ft. PETER PARKER ê„
SYNOPSIS: donât smile because it happened, cry because itâs over. who knew break up sex could be so hard, even when Peter would probably be knocking on your door the next day? PAIRING: TASM!peter x reader



WARNINGS: nsfw (18+) / fem!reader / break up sex / p in v / no kissing / some emotional turmoil / slightly awkward peter parker / tasm!peter LOVE NOTE: this is for my short n sweet is super event and based on this anonymous ask
âI know,â Peter Parker rolled over in bed, the neurons in his limbic system going off like alarms as he felt the shift in atmosphere. Gently, he pressed his forehead against yours so he could get a good look at your face. His eyes scanned every single one of your featuresâ taking in everything like it was the last time he would ever see your face, and he would be damned if he forgot even one line etched into your skin.
âIâm going to miss you,â you told him softly. Peterâs skin pressed against yours was warm and comforting, something you knew you would be missing shortly after he left. You always hated second-act breakups, which is really what this felt like. If you were both so upset over the parting, then why even do it? Couldnât you make it work?
âItâs just⊠you know,â Peter grunted, the feel of his halfie against your thigh, feeling like his desperation for you was inappropriate given the current state of the conversation. âItâs so hard with my job.â
Peter Parker used the term âjobâ lightly. It was clear he didnât know what to say to your admission, the excuse of his âjobâ always managing to fall short. Dipping his head down, he intertwined your legs beneath the sheets. Skin pressed on skin, his lips lingered near your cheek. Pressing a soft kiss to the apple of your cheek, you moved closer to him. Sex with Peter was always great. Phenomenal, even, but it was more than just good chemistry. It was an innate need to be close together, which is what you knew this was now.
Bodies connecting together, Peter moved on top of you to line the tip up with your entrance. His brown eyes started down into yours as his shaft slowly entered you, pulling a gasp from the depths of your lungs as soon as he bottomed out. The connection you both wanted to feel was desperate, the eye contact so intense it was almost intimidating. If you didnât break eye contact soon, you were worried you might somehow fall inside Peterâs head, but it was clear he needed the eye contactâ he was saving the memory of you beneath him into his hard drive.
âPeter,â you gasped as he pressed his chest against yours. With one hand, he reached up, cupping your breast and offering a gentle squeeze. The feel of his fingers grasping your boob would imprint on your brain, and you were sure you would feel the phantom of his touch long after he was gone.
The combination of his hands moving against you, kneading into the soft tissue and the way the tip of his dick kissed your cervix had your eyes rolling back and drool threatening the corner of your mouth. Peter was in his own little world, the feeling of you around him was just too good, but he had places to be. Reaching behind you, he felt around the top of the bed frame for where his mask hung. As his hand looped around the spandex, he slipped it over his face, still rocking in and out of you. When your eyes opened, the red and black mask staring back down at you, you clenched around him, a mind boggling orgasm rushing through you and soaking his bare abdomen.
As if to punish himself, Peter slid out of you without finishing. Moving himself off the bed, he fished around for his spider suit, his still hard cock bobbing up and down as he stumbled around. In such chaotic movements, he slipped the suit over his body, awkward laughs pulling from his throat. Even with the mask on, you knew the apples of his cheeks were painted a soft red color.
âI⊠Okay,â Peter awkwardly mumbled, navigating around the bed (but not before hitting his shin on the frame), âGotta go.â
It was the end for now, but you knew you would see your friendly neighborhood spider man again.
Probably tomorrow.
#Ëàšà§âïœĄË â hunter's journal#short n' sweet is super!#tasm!peter x reader#tasm x reader#the amazing spider man x reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker smut#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman fanfiction#spider man fanfic#spider man fanfiction#peter parker angst#tasm!peter fanfic#tasm!peter x you#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter parker x you#tasm!peter x y/n#spider man smut#doll: peter#peter parker x y/n
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Built A Fire Just To Keep Me Warm
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers
Synopsis: you and Peter are in the same friend group but never got along. That doesnât keep him from making sure you never get cold
Masterlist
âGuys, why is it so damn cold in here?â You groaned and rubbed your arms up and down. The thought of sitting in your lecture class for the next hour with your professor with the dullest voice imaginable somehow made you even colder.
âI told you to layer up.â MJ shrugged. âBut you never want to listen during layer talk. You know this guy always cracks the AC.â
âI always listen during layer talk.â Ned mumbled and threw his scarf over his shoulder.
You looked at your professor in the front of the room and then up at the vent above you.
âWhy though? Itâs the middle of December. My arm hairs should not be standing up.â You said and held your arm up for MJ to see.
âMaybe you should wear a jacket.â Peter interjected, making you all look at him.
âWhat was that?â You asked him. Ned signaled for him to stop talking but Peter had a point to make.
âI was just saying. You know this professor always has the AC on. But you always come to class in thin shirts and then complain that youâre cold.â Peter said. You sat up in your chair so you could fully face Peter and narrowed your eyes at him.
âSo?â
âSo,â he mimicked your tone, âYou know its going to be cold in here. But you still never wear a jacket. Maybe you should put one on next time so you wonât have this problem.â
âAnd maybe you should mind your business. I wasnât even talking to you.â You grumbled and slumped down in your chair. Peter watched you rubbing your arms to keep warm and rolled his eyes a little.
âYou were talking to the group.â Peter pointed out. âIâm in the group. So it was my business.â
âNo, I was talking to MJ.â You stated as your annoyance for him grew.
âYou said âguys, why is it so damn cold in here?â. That implies you were asking all of us.â Peter corrected. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as you glared at Peter.
âOkay, but I didnât say âPeter, Iâm really cold. Please give me your professional opinion on how to prevent thatâ. I was just making an observation.â
âBut thatâs not really an observation though, is it?â Peter asked. âItâs a declarative statement. We were in Linguistics together. Iâm surprised you donât remember that.â
âOh my God.â You groaned. âWhy do you have to be such a know it all?â
âI donât know. Why do you insist on wearing the flimsiest shirts to class and then complaining that youâre cold?â Peter retorted.
âThereâs about to be an active threat in this classroom.â You mumbled under your breath.
âWhat do you mean?â Ned asked you.
âI mean Iâm about to beat Peter up.â You told him.
âKnock it off you two.â MJ warned. âCan you guys go one day without going at each other?â
âTell Peter that. He started it.â You reminded her.
âI donât care. I donât want any bickering at my party tonight.â She said. âIt canât be like Friendsgiving. Because that was giving enemies instead of friends.â
âIf you donât want any fighting then youâll have to uninvite Peter.â You told her.
âI canât. Heâs the only one with an ID. We need him for the alcohol.â MJ replied.
âIâm right here.â Peter pointed out
âUnfortunately.â You mumbled.
âSpeaking of alcohol, I canât go with him to get it.â Ned cut in. âMy Lola has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. If I even look at a bottle of alcohol, sheâll know about it and strike me dead.â
âThen youâre going to have to go with him. Iâll be busy setting up.â MJ told you.
âWhat?â You whined. âI donât want to go with him. Why canât he go alone?â
âAgain, right here.â Peter stated and waved his hand.
âBecause of the Buddy System.â MJ answered. âRemember when we sent Ned alone to the bodega to get Sun Chips? He almost got kidnapped.â
âThe only reason the man didnât take me was because he thought my choice of chips was disgusting.â Ned whispered.
âThatâs valid.â You shrugged. âI wouldnât kidnap you either.â
âCan you guys just go together this once? For me? For little mixed drink loving old me?â MJ pleaded and held your hand to her heart.
âFine.â You sighed and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. Peter watched you doing this and then looked up at the vent above you.
âDonât act so excited about it.â Peter mumbled to you.
âIâm not.â You scoffed and gave him a look.
âI was being sarcastic.â
âSo was I.â You said as Peter got up out of his seat.
âWhere are you going?â You asked him.
âTo pee. Is that allowed?â He sassed you.
âGo piss girl.â Ned called after Peter as he walked down the steps of the lecture room, earning many stares from other classmates.
âNed, no.â MJ whispered. âThatâs not relevant anymore.â
âOh shit. Um, mama a hawk tuah diva behind you?â Ned asked to try and fix his mistake.
âJust stop while youâre ahead.â MJ replied with a pat on his knee. She then turned to you with a devious smile.
âPeter totally likes you.â She whispered.
âWhat?â You laughed. âNo he doesnât. Weâre barely even friends. I only tolerate him since heâs friends with Ned. And I mess with Ned heavy.â
Just then, Peter came back from the bathroom and stopped at the professors desk. You watched them curiously but you couldnât hear what they were saying. When Peter walked away from the desk, your professor went over to the thermostat and turned the AC off. You felt the vent above you stop spewing cold air just as Peter came back to where you were all sitting. He didnât look at you but his cheeks were pink as he sat down. MJ and Ned hadnât noticed what happened so you leaned over to him to whisper.
âWhy did you do that?â You asked him.
âYou said you were cold.â He shrugged, still without looking at you.
âSo? Why do you care if Iâm cold?â
âI donât. I was cold too. Not everythingâs about you.â He said quickly. You decided to drop it but you found the interaction strange.
Later that day, you and Peter kept a distance between you as you walked towards the nearest corner store. You had your arms folded to keep your hands warm and Peter was fighting the urge to comment on your lack of preparation for the cold.
âDo you have the list?â You asked Peter as you neared the store.
âI do. But it just says âalcoholâ so weâre going in blind.â He answered. You couldnât help but laugh at MJâs lack of instructions as you rubbed your arms up and down. Peter noticed this and was about to offer his jacket when you reached the store. Instead, he held the door for you and you smiled in surprise.
âThanks. Letâs just get what we need and get out of here.â You said, feeling awkward now as you walked past him into the store. You were never really alone with him so you werenât expecting him to be so civil. You split up and went down each isle to collect a few token party items. As you browsed, you kept feeling Peterâs eyes on you but you never looked up to check.
âThey donât have MJâs favorite vodka here. Sheâs gonna kill us if we donât come back with it.â Peter came up to you to tell you.
âDamn. We could try the store two blocks down. They usually have it.â
âAll right. Letâs go.â Peter said and nodded towards the door. As you started to walk to the next store, the frigid New York air hit you and sent a chill through your entire body. You shuddered and blew hot air on your hands before holding your arms to keep warm.
âAre you cold?â Peter asked you.
âOf course Iâm cold. Itâs brick out here.â
âHow come you never wear a jacket if youâre always cold?â He asked. He didnât sound accusatory, just curious.
âBecause I thought we were just running to the store by the dorms. I didnât think Iâd need one.â You replied. Peter fought every instinct in his body that told him to stay silent and unzipped his jacket.
âTake mine.â He offered and held it out to you.
âWhat?â You laughed in surprise. âNo way.â
âCome on. Donât be stubborn. Youâre freezing. Just take it.â
âIâm not taking your jacket. Iâm fine.â You insisted and continued to shiver.
âJust take the damn jacket.â He sighed and put it over your shoulders. You wanted to be stubborn, but you more so wanted to be warm. You gave him a look and slipped your arms into his jacket. You instantly felt better and smiled a little at your new protection from the cold. Peters jacket hung a little big on you but kept you perfectly warm.
âThank you.â You said timidly. âBut arenât you cold?â
âNah.â He waved his hand. âI run hot.â
You had reached the next store by that point and he opened the door for you once again. You flashed him a quick smile and went inside to get the drinks for MJ. You found it quickly and joined him at the cash register.
You hugged Peterâs jacket tightly around you as you walked back to the dorms together. He felt better now that he wasnât watching you freeze to death and you felt better now that you were safe from the bitter wind. You dropped Peter off at the boys dorm before going back to yours and MJs room. As soon as you walked in, you were hit with a familiar scent that made you suspicious. You looked around the dorm until you found what you were looking for.
âOh, hey. Youâre back.â MJ smiled when she found you.
âWhatâs this?â You asked and pointed to the mistletoe taped to the ceiling of the kitchen.
âNothing.â MJ said quickly. âItâs basil.â
âYou have basil taped to the ceiling?â You asked skeptically.
âIâm Italian.â She shrugged.
âNo youâre not. Iâve eaten pasta youâve made. It was like chewing a pen cap. Thereâs no Italian in that blood.â
âYou got me. Itâs mistletoe.â She admitted. âArranged beautifully due to my floral arrangement class, may I add. I hung it incase you wanted to kiss any boys tonight.â
âI knew it. Youâre still trying to set me up with Peter. Itâs never going to work so give up now. Now matter how much basil you hang up.â You said and snatched the mistletoe down.
âYou fight it but my lesbian instincts tell me that you guys are meant to be.â MJ said and held her hands up in defense. âAnd you better hang that back up because that was my only bushel of mistletoe.â
âThe same lesbian instincts that made us get on that bus to Long Island? I can never un-go to Long Island, MJ. You did that to us.â
âIt was dark. All the buses looked the same.â She defended herself. âBut trust. My instincts are right about this one.â
âTheyâre not.â You stated. âI donât like Peter like that. I donât even like him as a friend.â
âOkay. Sure. I believe you. Nice jacket, by the way.â She smirked before walking away. You looked down and remembered you were wearing Peterâs beat up winter jacket. You quickly followed her into the kitchen area to continue the conversation.
âThat doesnât mean anything. I was cold.â
âYeah. I bet he was too. Especially after he gave you his jacket.â She said smugly.
âHe said he runs hot.â You insisted.
âYeah. Hot for you. Ayo.â She grinned and held up her hand for a high five.
âThatâs not getting a high five.â You said flatly. âThere better not be any more surprises. Donât try to intervene tonight, okay? Peter and I would never work.â
âI thought you said you and Peter would never happen. Now youâre saying it just wouldnât work? Sounds like someoneâs having a change of heart.â MJ clicked her tongue as she finished setting up for the party.
You rolled your eyes at her and didnât respond as you helped her put out snacks. While setting a bowl of chips out on the table, you caught a whiff of Peterâs cologne coming off the jacket. You instinctively smiled at the scent before you caught yourself. You had never thought about it before, but now that MJ put the idea in your head, you couldnât help but wonder if there was a deeper reason that you and Peter never got along.
An hour later, the party was in full swing. You made your rounds and greeted people as you filled their cups up some more. You would never admit it, but you were a little disappointed to not see Peter in the crowd yet. MJ noticed you searching the room every so often and took a place by your side.
âLooking for Peter?â She asked with a smug expression.
âWhat? No. Like I care if that doink shows up. Iâm looking for Ned. Heâs supposed to bring theâŠ. Sun Chips.â You lied to cover up what you were really doing.
âRight, right. Of course. And how do you feel about Sun Chips?â She asked sarcastically.
âI need some air.â You said quickly and walked away from her. To get away from the crowd, you went out to your room and crawled out the window to sit on the roof. You hugged Peterâs jacket tightly around yourself and stared up at the night sky. The sound of the party coming through your open window sounded a million miles away. You drew your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them as the cold wind sent a chill through your body.
âHey.â You heard behind you, making you turn around. You saw Peter coming through your bedroom window and come join you on the roof. You got a new feeling in your chest as he sat beside you.
âHey.â You smiled softly at him. He returned the smile before an awkward silence settled between the two of you. You didnât know how to interact after he was nice to you on your trip to the store.
âThanks for walking through my bedroom with your dirty converse on.â You said to break the silence.
âLike my shoes were the dirtiest thing in that room. Iâm pretty sure I saw a rat eating your homework.â He mumbled. You stared at each other as you both tried to read the situation. You were bickering like usual, but there was a playful sense to it this time.
âThatâs just our third roommate, dummy.â You replied, adding to the teasing nature of the conversation.
âAh, I see.â Peter chuckled before looking down shyly. The awkward silence returned but you found yourself hoping he didnât leave.
âHow come youâre out here? Youâre not having fun?â He asked after a beat.
âIt got a little overwhelming in there. I needed some alone time.â
âOh, I could go.â He offered and went to stand up.
âYou could stay.â You said and stopped him from getting up by placing your hand over his. You watched Peter turn bright red so you quickly withdrew your hand. It was quiet again and you both looked anywhere but each other.
âHow come youâre not in there with Ned and all them? Didnât you just get here?â You asked to break the silence.
âOh, yeah. Ned and I just got here. But I walked by your room and I saw the window open. I was going to close it until I saw you out here.â He answered a little too quickly.
âWhy were you by my room? The party is in the kitchen area.â You wondered. Peter was flushed again and a smile tugged at your lips.
âWere you looking for me?â You asked in a quiet voice. Before Peter could deny the allegations, a gust of wind hit the two of you. You shivered and rubbed your hands together to stay warm.
âWhatâs wrong?â Peter asked you.
âYou know whatâs wrong.â You said with a slight roll of your eyes. Instead of pointing out that you were purposefully outside on the chilly roof, Peter took both your hands in his. You watched him curiously as he rubbed his hands up and down yours to generate heat. It occurred to you both at the exact same time that this was the first time youâd ever touched. You locked eyes with him and thought heâd let go, but he instead leaned down to blow some hot air on your hands to warm you up.
âThanks.â You said softly. âThat feels better.â
âYouâre welcome.â He said in just as timid of a voice. The awkwardness returned and you turned away from each other to avoid it.
âIâm sorry about before. In class, I mean. It was none of my business. You can wear whatever you want.â Peter said after a minute.
âItâs fine.â You waved your hand. âMaybe you kinda sorta possibly had a point. I knew it would be cold. I shouldâve worn a jacket. Besides, we always go at each other like that. Donât be sorry.â
âYouâre right. We do always fight.â He agreed. âDo you ever wonder why?â
âOh, um. I donât know.â You shrugged. âI assumed thatâs just how we are.â
âYeah, it is.â He nodded. âBut how did it start? Did we just meet one day and decide we hated each other? I was trying to think about it the other day but I couldnât remember.â
âWell, I remember MJ telling me she made a friend in her floral arrangement class. Which I told her not to take, by the way.â
âI told Ned the same thing.â Peter sighed. âI said it was a waste of time and credits. He didnât listen. But he did make me a beautiful bouquet for my birthday.â
âMJ failed so she got me a gift card to Staples.â You replied, making Peter laugh.
âWhy Staples?â
âI donât know. Iâm pretty sure she found it on the ground.â
âDid you ever use it?â He asked.
âI did. And guess what I got.â
âStaples?â
âYep.â You nodded, making him laugh again. You never realized it before, but Peter had the kind of laugh that made you want to say the most random things just to hear it again. His eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled, another thing you hadnât noticed before.
âI remember Ned introducing me to MJ, and then MJ introduced me to you. But I donât remember how our dynamic started and why we fight all the time.â
âHm.â You hummed. âItâs funny.â
âWhat is?â He wondered.
âThe one time weâre alone together is the one time weâre not fighting.â You pointed out.
âYouâre right.â He smiled shyly. âFunny.â
The silence that followed wasnât awkward this time. You felt like you were talking to a completely different person than who Peter usually was. This version of Peter didnât get under your skin or make you roll your eyes. This version was sweet and warmed you up from the cold.
âYou kept my jacket.â Peter pointed out, making you flush in embarrassment.
âOh, you can have it back.â You said and went to take it off.
âNo, no. Itâs okay. I want you to keep it.â He insisted and pulled it back around you. For extra measure, he zipped it up to your chin before patted both your arms. You smiled at the action and tilted your head down so the jacket would cover your chin.
âIt looks better on you anyway.â He added without looking at you. You picked your head up and looked at him but he was busy fussing with the her of his shirt.
âThanks. Itâs really warm.â You said in a soft voice.
âGood. You need it. Youâre always cold. And never prepared.â
âWe canât all be hot.â You replied. âRun hot, I mean.â
âDid you just call me hot?â Peter asked with a devious smile.
âShut up.â You groaned. âYou know what I meant.â
âI wish I had your problems. My hands are always sweating because Iâm always so hot.â Peter said as he looked at his hands.
âGross.â You grimaced. âKeep that to yourself.â
Peter looked sad as he didnât realize you were joking. You found yourself feeling bad that you hurt his feelings despite all the times you intentionally tried to hurt them.
âI was just kidding. Let me feel.â You quickly assured him and took his hand. You ran your fingertips along his palm to see what he was talking about while Peter stayed perfectly still. You let out a soft laugh which sent chills up Peterâs spine.
âWhat do you think?â He asked in a quiet voice.
âItâs like touching a Swedish fish thatâs been in a toddlers hand for too long.â You replied, making him laugh as well.
âThank you. That was a really lovely description.â
âSeriously, how do you walk around with these things? Do girls ever complain when you hold hands?â You wondered as you slipped your hand into his. He instinctively rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand as the comfortable silence returned. You stayed like that for a moment, holding each others hand on the cold rooftop. The only warmth Peter had was from your hand so he wasnât letting go anytime soon.
âAha! Holding hands!â MJ suddenly exclaimed from behind you. And was standing in your room and pouting at you through your open window. You turned around and quickly dropped Peterâs hand.
âWhat? No weâre not.â You scoffed and stood up. Peter felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him as you left the roof to follow MJ. It hurt him that you were so quick to drop his hand and deny what was happening, and even quicker to leave him.
âLesbian instincts.â MJ said as she tapped the side of her head.
âShut up. We werenât holding hands.â You insisted as you led her back towards the party.
âI may be a little drunk right now but I know what I saw.â She stated. âAnd you canât deny something I saw with my own two eyes.â
âWhat did she see?â Ned asked as he came to your side.
âNothing.â You said quickly. âShe didnât see anything.â
âNothing except her and Peter practically having full on intercourse out on the roof.â MJ replied, making Ned gasp.
âOh my God.â You groaned. âWe were not doing that. We were just holding hands.â
âSo you admit it!â She clapped her hands at the confession and nearly fell over.
âGirl, how are you so drunk already?â You asked her. âThe party only started an hour ago.â
âNot the point.â MJ held up a hand. âWhy were you and Peter holding hands? I thought you hated each other?â
âPeter doesnât hate her.â Ned laughed like it was ridiculous. You were about to question what made him sound so sure when you realized you had left Peter out on the roof. You left MJ and Ned behind and quickly ran back to your room. The window was shut but Peter was nowhere to be found. Guilt building up in your stomach now, you went back out to the party and searched the crowd for him. When you didnât see him anywhere, you went back to the kitchen to find Ned.
âDid Peter come in here? I canât find him.â You asked him.
âYou just missed him.â Ned answered. âHe said he wasnât feeling well so we wasnât going to head back to our dorm.â
âHe left?â You asked sadly. You looked at your front door before looking at MJ for help. She tapped the side of your head again and you knew what you had to do.
You ran out to the hall but didnât see Peter anywhere. The hum of the elevator gave you an idea where he might be. You got to the elevator just in time to see the doors closing. Without thinking, you wedged yourself in between them to get them to open back up. They bounced off either side of your body but opened up enough for you to get inside. Peter caught you as you stumbled in and helped you stand up straight.
âOh my God. Are you okay?â He asked as you held your aching body.
âI think I just went down a cup size.â You wheezed out.
âWhy didnât you just tell me to hold the door?â Peter asked through a laugh.
âThere was no time.â You waved your hand. âI had to talk to you. Youâre leaving?â
âOh, yeah. Iâm not much for parties.â He lied.
âNeither am I.â You told him as you stared into his eyes. He stared back and you could see a sadness in them that you knew was probably your fault.
âBefore you go, I just wanted to apologize for before. I shouldnât have run out on you like that.â
âItâs okay.â He shrugged. âWe did look pretty incriminating.â
âWe did.â You agreed. âAnd MJ was thrilled to see it. She has this dumb idea that we only pretend to hate each other to cover up the fact that we like each other.â
âShe thinks that? Wow. Thatâs quite a theory.â Peter said as a blush painted his face a warm pink.
âRight? I donât know where she gets it.â You shook your head and slid down the wall of the elevator. Peter decided to see the situation out and sat down beside you. Neither of you had pressed any buttons so the elevator stayed in place.
âNed has a similar theory, actually.â Peter told you. âHe thinks Iâm totally in love with you and I donât know how to express it outside of teasing you or making sure youâre warm.â
The silence that followed Peterâs statement was almost more incriminating than the hand holding. In your head, you replayed every time he had done something to keep you warm. Just the week before, Peter had wordlessly dropped a blanket beside you during a movie night at his dorm. Another time, he insisted you drank the tea he brought to class because he decided he didnât like it anymore but didnât want it to go to waste.
âAlso quite a theory.â You said to break the silence. âBut wait, if you run hot, how come your dorm has been perfectly toasty everytime MJ and I came over this winter?â
âItâs not usually like that.â He admitted. âBut I take out the space heater when you and MJ come over because I know you get cold easily.â
âOh. Well thank you.â
âFor the teasing?â
âFor keeping me warm.â You corrected. Peter flushed again and looked down at his lap.
âItâs all right. Winter will be over in a month. You wonât need me to keep you warm anymore. Then weâll go back to being enemies.â He said without looking at you. You could hear a sadness in his voice and moved a little closer to him.
âYouâre not my enemy. I just never really liked you.â You admitted.
âYeah. I had a feeling. But how come?â He asked with genuine curiosity.
âWell, because I got the feeling that you never really like me either.â You shrugged. âOnce our friend groups merged, you and I were just kinda there. We never really gelled like Ned and I or you and MJ.â
âYeah, we didnât.â He agreed. âThe only times we would talk to each other is when we were fighting or something. Thatâs the only reason I kept teasing you.â
âBecause you wanted to talk to me?â You smiled teasingly. Peter didnât smile back and just stared into your eyes.
âI didnât know how to talk to you.â He said quietly. âI never wanted us to fight. But if we didnât, then we would never talk. And I really, really wanted to talk to you.â
The way you had felt about Peter just that morning had completely changed for the better. You were now hanging on his every word and desperate to hear what he had to say next. You turned a little to face him better and tilted your head to the side.
âWhat did you want to say?â You asked him. Peterâs eyes darted around your face and eventually landed on your lips.
âThat I think youâre really cool. And really pretty. And really smart. Even though you never wear a-â
âDonât say it.â You cut him off by leaning in the rest of the way and kissing him. Peter turned his body so that he could slip a hand in your hair to kiss you back. He took the chill right out of your bones as he kissed you as if heâd been waiting his entire like to do so. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him until you ran out of breath. He had a dreamy smile on his face when you pulled away. You smiled shyly and sat back down on the elevator floor. Peter started to sniff the air suddenly and looked around.
âDo you smell basil?â He asked. Your smile dropped and you looked up to find the source of the smell. Sure enough, taped to the ceiling of the elevator was a makeshift mistletoe MJ had crafted out of basil and ribbon.
âFreaking lesbian instincts.â You muttered and stood up to snatch the basil down.
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@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland
@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave
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#peter parker enemies to lovers#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#tom holland x you#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x y/n#peter parker x y/n
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Begin Again
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
Breakups suck.
Thatâs it. Thatâs the whole message. Thereâs nothing else to add, except youâd never let yourself love again. Itâs not like you didnât know it wasnât going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasnât every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?
Natalie Greeneâs voice echoed in your mind, âdonât get involved with a senior boy. They move on and youâre left picking up the pieces in homeroom.â You didnât listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didnât hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.
You wish you werenât so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked âhello?â three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, âhe ended it, huh?â All you could do is squeak back, âstay right there babe, Iâm on my way with the break up kit.â
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. âalright,â she stated, hands on her hips.
âI got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-â
âWhy do you have a lighter?â
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, âto burn stuff, duh.â
The gesture was nice, but you couldnât focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.
A supercut of every moment.
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you heâd wait for you and everything would be okay.
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly youâd fall back into him if he called.
âI knew this was gonna happen, Nat.â You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, âso why does it hurt so bad?â
Your friend frowns, sheâs no savor to heartbreak. Sheâs been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you donât know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.
âBecause even though the ending was coming it didnât feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped heâd change his mind.â
You gasp, âhow do I get past this? Nat, it feels..â
Youâre tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, âlike youâre dying? Yeah, that happens. But, youâll live. It doesnât feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.â
You snort, âfor breaking my heart?â
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, âfor making you grow.â
Your shoulders feel like theyâre falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like itâs been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know heâs not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing thatâs helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you werenât sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.
Maybe his bed was against your wall and thatâs why you heard so many small knocks.
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, heâs thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights youâve had something to rely on. Something that couldnât go anywhere.
You blink and suddenly youâre staring at your open locker, you donât even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.
âAre we ready to go to Flashâs party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?â
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a âhey, Nat,â her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, âstill dead to the world, understandable.â
âAt this point Iâd do heroin to feel something,â your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. âTell you what, if youâre still this miserable in six weeks, weâll do it together.â
Your eyebrow quirks, âyouâd do heroin with me if Iâm still this miserable?â
Natalie Greeneâs hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.
âSix weeks, starting today.â
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greeneâs plan.
âSix weeks.â
Itâs solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.
WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flashâs party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldnât go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.
âHereâs why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.â
âYou think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?â
âIâll take care of you for the night, okay? Iâll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything youâre holding back, thatâs why you should go.â
You look her over, sheâs been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you itâs one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.
If Natalie Greene says itâll help, youâll listen.
âYouâll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?â
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, âI think itâs time I repay you for all these years.â
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, itâs small but itâs there.
Flashforward two days later, youâre eight drinks in and feeling like youâre flying.
You sway against your friend, âand he,â you hiccup, âhe said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,â it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, âboom, no boyfriend.â Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical âwhat the fuck?â face.
âI mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. Thatâs who! And- And you know what?â you hiccup, âI thought Iâd be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?â
âNah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute Iâd say âfuck him!â and the next Iâd be overwhelmed with sadness because I didnât have anyone to hold me anymore.â
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadnât thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, thatâs the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesnât know how to say sorry, maybe heâs waiting for you to call.
âI should call him, right?â Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. âNo! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!â You whine, âbut what if he-â
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.
âHeâs not. Heâs not thinking about you, heâs not missing you, heâs not sitting around wishing youâd call him, heâs just not. He broke up with you, you donât do that if you still care. Donât do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.â
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.
He didnât miss you, and that⊠really, really hurt.
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. âYouâre right! He, he doesnât-â you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didnât know how you could hold in so much hurt.
âOkay, okay. Letâs go, we can cry in the car but not here.â
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, âhe said he loved me!â Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, âAnd Iâm sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and itâs no one's fault.â
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. âIâm getting naked,â you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.
âSleepy?â
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.
âNatalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?â
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, âI did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. Iâll make toast in the morning.â
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
âDo me a favor?â
âAnything,â she whispers. You donât think he ever loved you this soft.
âMake sure he gets home for me.â
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.
The birds were screaming the earth back awake.
At least thatâs how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you canât get comfortable.
Thereâs two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.
âGood morning, sunshine!â You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. âOh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think Iâm dying.â
âHow are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.â
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.
âI think⊠I think Iâm doing okay.â
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, âgood, Iâm making breakfast. Come join.â
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.
You hadnât even checked your phone yet, âwhat time is it?â
âNoon thirty.â
Your eyes widen, âmy god,â you mumble to yourself.
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, âNat, youâre the greatest thing I got.â She bounces her shoulder into yours, âI know.â
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.
âHey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.â
You wave her off, âdrunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?â
âHave you ever-â
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.
âWhoâs-â
âDid you-â
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.
âWhat do you want, penis?â
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of⊠cookies?
Neighbors forever, close pals never. Youâd played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight youâve had a disdain for Peter Parker. Youâre not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.
âI was going to say, âwow, how could a guy ever dump you?â but now, Iâd say thatâs how.â
Normally that wouldnât hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.
âIs this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear Iâd rather eat glass than-â
The plate is shoved into your face, âMay had me bring these over, she said your mom told her youâve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.â
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
âI know you wouldnât know anything about someone loving you but-â
âIs that Peter B. Parker?â
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, âhello, Natalie Greene.â Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.
The person youâve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.
âCookies?â Natalie nudges your arm, âhe brought cookies and heâs right across the hallway, how nice.â
Peterâs oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. Heâs always so god damn happy, itâs annoying.
âWell, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.â
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.
âYou know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!â
You donât know what sheâs playing at but youâre shutting it down immediately.
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. âYou talk about me?â
You cross your arms and sneer, âdonât worry, nothing good.â
His smile drops, âyeah, sorry. I donât know why..â his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. âHere, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.â
You grip the plate and look down, theyâre your favorite.
âWe, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something Iâm here, soâŠâ
Peterâs never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.
âItâs a breakup. Iâm sure I can manage without you just fine.â
His eyebrows turn in, âright. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.â
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As youâre about to retreat he stops in the doorway, âfor what itâs worth, I think heâs stupid and heâs gonna realize what he lost when itâs way too late.â
Itâs almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person youâre supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.
Too bad youâre more guarded than ever.
âWell, then. Itâs a good thing youâre not worth much.â
Maybe itâs his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words heâll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.
âIâm sorry youâre hurting,â you didnât have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasnât said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.
âSo, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?â
Deny till death.
âNo way, Iâm talking about Mr. Harrington, heâs like a hundred years old.â
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, âyour hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?â
Itâs dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, âhe may have a routine, I dunno.â
Your friend hums, âI just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.â
Gagging at his name you shake it off, âGross! Itâs bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.â It takes you a second but youâre able to plow through another bite.
âI just⊠why do we hate Peter so much?â
You donât know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. Itâs easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.
âI donât know. Heâs just a pest to me, every time I turn around heâs there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.â
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just donât know it yet.
âWhat if you talked to him?â
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, âIâm sorry, what?â
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just donât know it yet.
âIf you need me and Iâm not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I canât be here, promise me youâll knock on his door.â
You scoff at the idea, âyeah, sure.â sheâs not very confident you mean it.
âSeriously, promise me right now if I canât be there for you, youâll ask him.â
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. Itâs not like sheâd go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.
âAlright! If you arenât around and itâs literally life or death, Iâll ask⊠him.â
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just donât know it yet.
WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.
Today, when leaving, right as youâre pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.
âHey.â
You freeze, itâs rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really donât like the sudden change.
âHow are you doing?â
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didnât understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.
âLike I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.â
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, âand the cookies?â
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and sheâs the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail heâd start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesnât deserve unprovoked rage.
âThey were really good,â you take three steps before turning back around.
âAnd, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.â
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, âwe have like, twenty left. Want some more?â
You shake your head softly, âmaybe later?â Peter nods exuberantly, âyeah, yeah. Iâll bring them over.â
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, âthanks for the warning, penis!â
This was it.
This was your worst nightmare.
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didnât matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.
âAnd he was so sweet, wasnât he? Honey, are you sure he hasnât reached out? Itâs not too late to call him, maybe if you-â May didnât deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didnât even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.
âHe doesnât give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think heâd call? He doesnât want me, I mean heâs made that clear right?â Your eyes shoot to Mayâs, âIâm right, right? You donât break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?â
Tears haze your vision, âhe ended it with me mom, and you know why? Itâs cause he found a new girl! He fucking-â water rushes down your cheeks but you donât stop, âhe,â you collapse on the word, you canât get a good inhale on breath.
âHe left me to pick up the pieces, thatâs all he did.â It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you canât fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind itâs a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you donât know whatâs happening but youâre trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, itâs not because of your sudden blink. Itâs because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.
Itâs the last place you want to be but youâre angry, and heâs there, and itâs all coming out.
Youâre able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peterâs shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, itâs the first time youâve ever actually felt him against you. Heâs more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesnât stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until youâd push him away.
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry,â you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peterâs hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, itâs the good kind of emotional numb.
âI, um, I still have those cookies?â
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you werenât so crazy. Or at least, Peter didnât see you as crazy, which when thinking about didnât mean much.
You canât help but laugh, itâs so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.
Tonight, you were full of surprises.
âYeah,â you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, âIâd love to come over for cookies.â
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.
You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. Sheâs all over his instagram, and sheâs pretty. Heâs all over hers, dating back to five months ago.
You do a double take, five months?
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldnât hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peterâs already seen you at your worst.
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasnât scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didnât get angry often, and youâve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.
âI hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me Iâm absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.â
While heâs glad youâre not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.
âIâm so sorry.â
âIt was right in front of my face, too. Sheâd been claiming him since the second week of school. Iâve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I⊠I want to break something.â
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesnât have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.
âWack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.â
You look unsure, you donât want to ruin his things, even if you donât like him.
âRight on the edge, go on, do it.â His egging you on makes you follow his command, itâs gentle.
âHarder,â you test it.
âHarder,â you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.
âLike you mean it, like you need it.â You do it again, itâs louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.
âHarder, donât be so weak!â
He hit the right nerve, you canât stop, youâre moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.
âFucking!â
âPiece!â
âOf!â
âShit!â
You start to slow down, Peterâs notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when youâre done, Peter gives you a head nod, âbetter?â
You nod, âlots. Sorry about your book.â He doesnât look bothered in the slightest, âitâs a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.â You peer over the contents in the pages, âthatâs a lie, everyone knows science is green.â Peter laughs, he nods like heâs saying âyou got me there.â âDoesnât mean I like it though.â
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, itâs like heâs always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You donât know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and youâve always had a disdain for Peter.
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you canât decide whoâd get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.
âYouâre looking at me funny.â
You are, itâs because youâre noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.
âI had a crush on you when we were younger. I think thatâs why I stopped being your friend.â
Your confession made Peterâs eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. âThatâs cute.â
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. âYeah, it really was.â You shouldnât entertain it any further, but you canât stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, âWanna know when it started?â He looks curious, âsure.â
You go quiet for a minute, you havenât thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.
âWe were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said âI got this.ââ You laugh, replaying it once more.
âAnd you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said âdonât be scared.ââ
Thereâs something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peterâs smiling, itâs like heâs reliving that day in his head too. âI fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.â You shrug, âmaybe.â Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like youâve said too much.
âHey, um, thanks for the whole⊠unleashing my anger thing.â You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.
âAre you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?â
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadnât had lunch. You have a sinking feeling youâd regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.
Still, you find yourself agreeing.
âSure. Letâs get some pizza.â
It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.
âIâm surprised you didnât judge me on my hawaiian choice.â He always did, he told you it wasnât authentic and childish.
âHey, Iâm a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.â Your face brightens, he understands. âExactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, itâs like-â Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. âFries and ice cream.â
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when youâd go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised heâd like it but heâd tell you it was âfucking grossâ.
âHawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?â You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, âno thanks, weâre good.â Peterâs slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, âyou want a bite donât you?â Your eyes flash to your slice, âonly if you take a bite of mine.â Itâs only fair. âSwap with me,â you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.
You swap back and take a bite of yours, itâs heavenly. âIâm glad I got mine.â Peter agrees with the statement, âIâm sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. Itâs all about keeping it simple.â You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know itâs a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. âPlease donât call me that.â Peterâs eyes soften, he almost tells you he didnât mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.
âNo problem, old lady.â It took a second, but you couldnât stop the laugh. âWhat did you just call me?â Peter bites his bottom lip, âwell, thatâs the opposite of babe, isnât it?â It makes your smile bigger, itâs funny, if you had asked him something that simple heâd fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.
For the first time in a month you really canât remember why you thought he was so great.
WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.
âLetâs fuck some shit up.â
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldnât touch your closet. You couldnât bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
âI donât know why itâs so hard for me, everything else was fine.â Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and sheâs itching to start rummaging. âItâs not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?â
You snort, âthink I could do some black magic?â Her eyes light up, âIâll look up the dark arts right now, donât dare me.â You sigh, âI donât care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.â Natalie Greene understands, sheâs been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of whatâs no longer.
Itâs only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone heâs no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.
âShit, can we raincheck the disposal?â Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. âFamily stuff.â You tell her itâs fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldnât. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.
May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.
âHi, May. Is Peter home?â
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. âHow are you feeling?â If you had been asked that a week ago youâd fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.
âI think Iâm doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.â May frowns with empathy, âmy college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.â
You laugh, âyeah, it really is.â May clears her throat, âPeterâs in his room, he may be busy with some homework.â You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because itâs what he deserves.
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. âI have an odd request for a man.â Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.
âUh huh.â
âIâm getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?â You follow up with a wince, âIâm sorry, this is super weird and out of place.â
Peter shrugs, âif it helps, it helps. And if youâre serious, Iâll go with you.â You take a deep breath, healing and growing isnât always comfortable. âFuck it, letâs donate some shit.â
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, heâs carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.
âDonât worry, justice is about to be served.â
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, sheâs seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. âItâs sounding a lot more like twenty percent.â
The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You werenât even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.
âAw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!â
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but youâre not a couple anymore. When she says âcoupleâ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.
You donât think you could ever love again.
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. Itâs not worth the awkwardness of announcing youâre not a couple, you both know youâre not, and she doesnât really care if you were or not.
âWe were just in the mood to donate today,â he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, itâs second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. âAre you sure you want to do this?â
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.
âIâm sure.â Because, you really are.
Peter smiles, âany last words?â You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peterâs laughing at your blank face, âcâmon, you know you wanna double it.â You do, so you did.
It feels freeing, youâre not healed but you donât have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peterâs high-fiving you. Youâre tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than youâve ever felt.
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. âLet me buy you a hawaiian.â
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but youâd admit it silently. Heâs on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. Heâs a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. Heâs charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.
For a second your mind blips and you truly canât remember his eye color. But you know theyâre nothing like Peterâs.
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. âYou good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.â
You canât stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.
âYour eyes are very pretty.â You wonât stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandmaâs plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, âso you werenât trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.â
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, heâs not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like youâre not blatantly flirting with ease.
âI just havenât noticed them before I think.â
Peterâs quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.
âWell, Iâm glad you are now.â Itâs a little too much, heâs not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.
You clear your throat, âI need to ask you something.â Peter stops tapping, itâs like heâs been waiting on you to say it. âYeah, anything.â
You lean forward a little, âdid you tell my mom about the party last year?â He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, ânope.â Your eyes narrow, âIâd rather us not start a friendship built on lies.â
Peter lights up, âfriendship?â A displeased expression was shared, âthin ice, Parker.â He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, âI promise I didnât tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and heâs super old so I just kinda⊠let you believe it was me.â
Your heart breaks free, itâs loud and pumping and itâs making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.
Heâd be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.
âYouâre the most selfless person I know and itâs kind of insufferable.â Peter rolls his eyes, âjust admit you like me, god.â Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.
âYeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.â
Peter jumps back into character, âalright, so Iâm down on-â
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
âWhy couldnât your grandma die next month?â She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. âSo true, she shouldâve known you were having a crisis.â You nod, âitâs so hard knowing the world doesnât revolve around me.â
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didnât want a spectacle and you didnât even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadnât been thinking about it for days. You wonder if sheâs picked up on the hints, youâd been relying on her less and less.
âAre you going to hang with Peter while Iâm gone?â Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights heâd sent you a few videos that he thought youâd like. And you did, even if he didnât know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.
He would send you things he found funny.
Peter sends you things he knows youâd find funny.
âMaybe. He buys me pizza so heâs cool to have around, I guess.â Natalie Greene snorts, âand Iâm sure he makes fun of your pineapple.â It feels like your heart shines, âno, actually. He gets it.â Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.
âWanna come have some brownie cookies?â
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. âHey, Nat, I gotta go. Iâm really sorry about your grandma.â She rolls her eyes, âshe was super old and I didnât really know her, itâll be cool to see my cousins though.â
âHave fun on the trip!â
A wicked grin, âhave fun with Peter.â You donât even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like youâve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
âHi.â
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, âhi.â Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.
âOkay, okay, so what did she say?â
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion youâre fully invested in Peterâs story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.
Peter swallows his own bite, âshe asked me to back her up! And I was all like, âhell no, you stole my auntâs juicer.ââ You gasp, ânot Mayâs juicer.â Peter holds a finger up, ânah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, âit wasnât a juicer, it was a butter dish.â
You slap a hand over your mouth, âoh no.â Peterâs eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. âI wish you couldâve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.â
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.
âAre you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured youâd be scared of my cooties.â You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.
âOh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.â Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, âI think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?â You laugh on a gulp of milk, âtrust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.
âIs that a good thing?â
You look over his face, heâs got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, itâs just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. Itâs a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, itâs a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.
âYes. Iâd say puberty was very kind to you.â Peter takes another step, âhow so?â Pretending to think about it, like you werenât already, you take a second to respond. You donât notice him taking another step.
âWell, you have a nice jawline.â Peter tilts his head slightly, âis that all?â Youâre not sure what it is, but thereâs an undertone and it fills you with excitement.
âAnd very nice curls.â
âI donât think that has anything to do with puberty.â You suppose heâs right, âyouâre taller than me now.â You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peterâs suddenly right in front of you, âespecially now.â He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, âyeah, youâre like a giant.â
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like theyâre the right amount chapped. âAnything else?â Youâre struggling, all you can think about is him but you canât follow a train of thought.
âYou smell really good,â you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, heâs caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. âYouâre just complimenting me now.â
You shake your head, âdo you know how many teenage boys smell bad?â Itâs not your fault, heâs so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.
âOne more.â You try to think, heâs making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.
âYou-â Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldnât catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. Itâs over as quick as it started.
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. Itâs not lost on you when you werenât the one to pull away, but youâre the first one to comment on it.
âYou shouldnât have done that.â You werenât mad, you were warning him, he doesnât know what lies ahead.
âBut I really wanted to.â His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?
Itâs dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. âAnd do you want to again?â Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what heâs doing, heâs giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.
Youâd always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. Itâs bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you donât know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, itâs very clear he doesnât know what to do.
You pull away for air, Peterâs pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like itâs spinning, the girl heâs always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how youâre holding him to you, how youâre tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how youâre leaning back in, how heâs holding you into him.
You take the lead, itâs slow but you build his confidence, heâs a quick learner.
In minutes youâre nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, youâre about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peterâs locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesnât know much, but it feels like heâs intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know heâs doing something right.
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. âFuck, Peter,â itâs breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.
âOh, wow!â
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. Youâre grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peterâs mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!
âHey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?â
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peterâs hand pressed into the back of your head. Heâs sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
âYes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.â As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldnât let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peterâs waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
âYouâd love it, itâs roasted garlic, real pieces too!â
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you werenât looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peterâs chest, âsounds good.â May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.
âAre you gonna hide from me forever?â
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, âPeter made brownie cookies.â May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. âEver since that first plate of cookies Peterâs been baking like itâs his job.â
Heâs perfect.
âYou made the cookies?â Peter had told you May did, youâre sure of it. He nods quickly, âI figured if I told you, youâd think they were poisoned.â
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
Itâs dramatic, but youâll bite. âSmart boy.â Peter has a gleam in his eye, âI really am.â
May knows when sheâs third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greeneâs advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you canât imagine the burn this could leave.
âI should go,â you canât look him in the eye, heâd suck you back in. Youâd never be able to leave, you have to leave.
âIs this because of May? Cause we can leave and..â You shake your head fast and take a step back, heâs too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and⊠loving. You donât deserve him or what he brings, you canât bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.
âNo, not May.â There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.
âI told you, you shouldnât have done that.â
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. âYou asked if I wanted to do it again.â He canât use logic, it wonât work here. âThat didnât mean do it again.â
âYou sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.â You feel choked for air, heâs backing you into a corner.
âYou understood wrong. I need to leave.â Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.
âDonât do this. I know what youâre doing, and it doesnât end well for either of us. Weâre not eight anymore.â Your game was called, you didnât want to do this, you donât want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?
âDesperation isnât a good look on you.â
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. âOf course it isnât.â Youâre very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldnât have kissed you. He brought this on himself.
âNothing is.â Whatâs a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, âIâll see you later.â You shake your head, âno, you wonât.â
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didnât do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.
Too bad he wasnât worth the risk.
You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you werenât allowed to do that. So you didnât.
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.
âButter, please?â
You cross your arms and scoff, âget it yourself, penis.â Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.
âIâm sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.â It was the least authentic apology heâs ever heard.
âAw, let them be kids, theyâre in love.â
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. âNo, no, May⊠no.â
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more itâs announced. You canât win. Itâs brutal silence on your end, youâre shutting down into a shell of a human.
âOh? I thought after-â
Peter has your back. âAfter we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasnât like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didnât really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.â
May plays right along, and asks you directly. âDoes that mean youâre not coming over for pizza anymore?â Does that mean youâre not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if itâs different if his aunt asks.
âThe last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I canât imagine how bad it wouldâve been if it was my favorite.â
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.
âYou donât trust Peter in the kitchen?â
Youâre doing your best to ignore Peterâs eyes on the side of your face, youâre trying to pretend youâre not being vulnerable.
âHeâs the only person who could burn it all down.â
May clicks her tongue, sheâs more focused on cutting up her dinner. âFor what itâs worth, as Peterâs aunt, heâs a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesnât mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, heâs really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.â
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. âYouâre not scared of burning yourself?â
A shrug, âItâs a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what Iâve learned, burns heal.â
âScars donât.â
Peter tilts his head, âthey fade over time, donât they?â
May speaks up, sheâs looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.
âThey do.â
WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. Youâve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.
Youâve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasnât going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?
âGood morning,â it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesnât mind you didnât use words, you were directing expression towards him and thatâs enough. âWanna walk together?â
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. âIf you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, thatâs on you.â
Peterâs hot on your heels down the steps, âthatâs a total yes.â You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesnât work. âHow have you been?â Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
âPersonally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.â Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. âI mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.â
âGot it. Thanks.â You know you need to pick a side, but something in you wonât let you ignore him.
âWelcome. You know, if youâre free, youâre invited for dinner tonight.â You pout sarcastically, âtell May Iâll miss her presence.â Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. âShe keeps asking about you, Iâm running out of excuses.â
You scoff, âexcuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.â Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a strangerâs shoulder, in one second heâs next to you again. âAnd what would the truth be?â
âYou pushed yourself onto me,â you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.
âHey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didnât want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, Iâm really sorry.â
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didnât want him to think he sexually harassed you.
âI was kidding, Peter. I donât think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. Iâd just rather never speak or think about it ever again.â
A weary smile, âthat bad, huh?â You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. âQuite the opposite, really.â Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.
âCan I ask what that means?â You nod, âsure.â You offer up no more explanation.
âWell?â You look at him for a second, âoh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesnât mean Iâll tell you.â
âYouâre gonna inflate my ego, youâre telling me it was so good you canât put it into words.â
You give him a side eye, âI wasnât aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.â
âThatâs not denialâŠâ His cadence was sing-songy.
âYouâre in denial.â
Peter shook his head confidently, âIâm not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.â
You came to a halt. Heâs not allowed to feel this way, he doesnât know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?
Peterâs not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. âDonât.â Pointing a finger at his chest, âdonât say that, donât think that, and sure as shit donât act on it.â
Peter must think youâre joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. âDonât act on it? I already did.â Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe heâs been planning it for weeks.
How long has he liked you?
It doesnât matter. Youâll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesnât know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe heâd find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.
âPeter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldnât put that on my worst enemy. Itâs a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you donât eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? Itâs shit, Peter.â
âBut was it worth it?â
Did he not hear anything you just said? âWhat does that mean?â
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, âyou loved him, right?â You donât need to give an answer, he already knows it. âDo you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?â
You lick your bottom lip, itâs been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didnât know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But thatâs the worst part, with Peter you donât know what it would feel like. Youâve only had a glimpse and it tells you that itâs something thatâs going to change you forever.
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, itâll kill you, itâd be nothing like when he did it and you canât take the gamble.
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter youâd take ten steps back and never be the same.
âThere isnât always a silver lining, Peter.â You refuse to answer.
âSo, what, youâre never going to fall in love again?â Peterâs matching your pace again, you canât wait until youâre in the four safe walls of Midtown.
âNo, I just canât fall in love with you.â
âCanât is a funny word choice.â
âWonât.â You exhale sharply, âI wonât fall in love with you.â
Peter has no interest in your claim, âitâd be easier if you just said you didnât like me, but youâre not.â
You donât have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and youâll be doing just that.
âI donât like this conversation anymore and Iâm ending it.â It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.
âBreak up with me.â
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peterâs hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, âhuh?â
âYou said I donât know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.â Heâs entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.
âIâm not going to break up with you, Peter. I canât get another tardy slip.â You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. âTen seconds, just end it.â
âNo.â
âCâmon, itâll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.â
âWeâre not dating. I canât dump you, even if I wanted to.â What happened to ending the conversation?
You hear the smirk when he speaks. âIf.â
âIâm not playing your word games, Peter.â Because youâre not.
A laugh, âthen break up with me.â
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think itâs a joke, does he think youâre playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. âI canât break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldnât know how to handle losing you. Youâd hurt me too bad and I canât take that risk.â
Peterâs voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. âI canât break up with you either. Youâd be able to hurt me just as bad.â It takes you from your trance, âyou would. Because Iâm a bad girlfriend. If I wasnât he wouldnât have replaced me before he could end it.â
Peterâs eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. âHey, woah, letâs pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you werenât, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.â
Itâs nice of him, but he doesnât know that. âWe didnât talk, you donât know I wasnât a bad girlfriend.â Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. âHe made you cry all the time,â the words followed by your name. âBad girlfriends donât cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.â
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an âIâm sorryâ for something you didnât know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and thereâs no crossing it, but itâs nice living in a moment make believe.
âYouâd never be able to call me babe.â It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.
You get flashed with a toothy grin. âThatâs okay, I have a million to choose from.â
Or the obvious hang up, âMay would totally hate me too, she knows Iâll take your virginity.â Peter waves you off, âwe donât know that.â You quirk an eyebrow, âwe donât?â Peter corrects himself, âshe doesnât have to know that.â
You chuckle from the back of your throat. âBut she will. You wouldnât be able to hide it. I definitely wouldnât be able to hide it.â Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if youâre both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âI donât know. Itâs like, you just get a lot more⊠touchy, I guess. Nothingâs off limits anymore.â
A monotone reply, âyeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.â
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.
âIt wouldnât work between us, Peter.â
You feel sad, thereâs no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than youâd let yourself give and you wanted more than youâd let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and youâd never forgive yourself.
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you donât know how youâd ever be okay again.
âIf you think so.â His kind smile doesnât meet his eyes. Itâs a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.
This was all Natalie Greeneâs fault. If she wasnât stuck states away at a funeral she wouldâve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peterâs.
It could also be Peterâs fault. He shouldâve never kissed you like he did, he shouldâve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesnât he know you could never forget it?
It also didnât help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.
It had been three days of nothing and that wasnât Peterâs choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didnât want him in your life, he wouldnât be. Doesnât he know that just makes you want him more?
Peter wasnât at the party, you didnât expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful heâd surprise you and show up. He didnât. But that didnât mean he wasnât on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldnât.
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.
Itâs Peterâs fault. He really shouldnât have kissed you like that, he doesnât understand his power.
Harsh banging. Itâs over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldnât get enough of you.
If you couldnât date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isnât he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didnât look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.
When the fuck did he get so toned? You wouldâve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.
âYouâre so lucky Mayâs on overnight duty.â No, youâre lucky because heâs half naked and sleepy, youâve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like youâre dying and only he could save you.
You canât help it, your palm connects with his chest, itâs there longer than a second. Itâs less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, âwhat are you doing here?â
Your thumb traces his collarbones, âI brought you pizza.â Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.
âAt one in the morning?â Peterâs amused, you donât think he wouldâve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, âI was thinking of you.â You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.
Peter takes it with a smile. âThanks, kid.â You donât know why, but you really like that one.
âCan I come in?â If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. Itâs one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot heâll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.
You donât think youâve ever been this fascinated with him.
âNow I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.â Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like youâre flying. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesnât need water but you do and heâs not about to make you feel singled out.
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.
âI donât know, but I just get it.â Heâs letting you do all the talking, itâs odd, youâre not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what youâre doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.
âDo you see where Iâm sitting?â
Peter nods, âI do.â
Your fingers tap on the countertop, âremember the last time I sat here?â Peter breathes deep, you wonder if heâs thinking about it right now. âI do.â
You wait. He makes no move. Whereâs your kiss?
âWell? Are you gonna do it again?â You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. Youâre making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you donât like it one bit.
âNo,â at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesnât he know how much you need this?
âWhy not? If you think this is a trick, itâs not. If you want, Iâll kiss you first.â You jump down but youâre held back by a hand, heâs literally pushing you away. Itâs a feeling that causes a tug, you really donât like it.
âYouâre drunk,â Peter follows the statement with your name, heâs not mean but heâs also not going to change his mind.
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. âIâm not drunk.â
âDrunk enough youâre allowing yourself to have this conversation.â
He has a very fair point.
âLiquid courage, kiss me?â Peter shakes his head, âyou made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.â
You grin, âconsider it practice then.â Your words make him frown, âyou donât want this.â Who is he to tell you what you do or donât want?
âHow do you know I donât want this?â
âBecause this isnât you.â
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesnât get to think he knows you more than you do. âYou donât know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.â
âYouâre hurt and confused. I wonât take advantage of that, being mad at me wonât make me change my mind.â
Where was his care coming from? He didnât care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasnât normal, was it? But itâs also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.
âWhy didn't you act like this a year ago?â If he truly cares, where was it before?
âYou mean when you had a boyfriend?â
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think youâd be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? âIs that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while Iâm all confused? How long have you had this planned out?â
Your words are like daggers, the things youâre alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.
âDonât. Iâve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why donât you?â
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you havenât felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasnât yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldnât be natural to feel magnetized to him.
You could tell him the truth, but youâre better at hiding behind false walls.
âI liked you better when you didnât care about me.â
âIâm sorry you feel that way.â
He knows youâre lying but he wonât make you admit it, no, heâll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldnât let you chase him too?
âYou have a superiority complex. Thatâs why you canât find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think youâre better than everyone else and itâs a natural repellent.â You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.
âI was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. Youâre going to look back on this moment and regret it.â
Peter really doesnât care for your dramatics. Itâs impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. âRegret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what youâre insinuating?â
âNo! I just meant that⊠I donât know what I mean, Peter! I donât know anything and youâre not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or⊠I donât know.â Your voice trails, itâs the most honest youâve been in weeks.
âI donât know anything anymore, Peter.â
Everything youâve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly youâre in a permanent grin. Youâve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, itâs never been so beautiful.
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?
Would it feel like an agonizing death?
Would your wings ever be patchable again?
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder youâll hit the ground. Youâre okay with falling, youâre able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?
It looks like heâs trying to stop himself from hugging you, itâs a good thing he is. He might be thinking youâd yell or push him away, you think youâd just cry.
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if itâs because heâs up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You wonât.
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peterâs fault, heâs the one that kissed you. He started it.
âYou shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldnât have. Youâve fucked this all up, penis.â
Peterâs tired of the blame. âYou came here,â he ends it with your name, like heâs pleading.
Itâs annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms youâll trick your brain and youâll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.
You open the door, itâs the last time youâll allow yourself to look at his face.
Itâs Peterâs fault.
âBecause you made me want to.â
WEEK FIVE.
Itâs way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while youâre locking your front door.
âGood morning.â
You nod your head, âpenis.â
And just like that, the mosquitoâs squashed.
You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. Youâre unable to sleep and miserable. Youâve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peterâs cheeks.
It wasnât fair to keep thinking about him, youâre doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. Youâre just finding out that thatâs not how it works.
3:02, you hear his window.
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.
3:07, youâre dozing off.
3:10, youâre asleep.
It wasnât fair.
Three nights later, Itâs 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isnât your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you donât feel threatened, youâre curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. Heâs racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.
If you didnât have as much distain as you did, youâd be slightly shocked.
âIf you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.â
Peter must be dizzy, because heâs imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
âHey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.â
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, itâs dizzying, at one point he has five hands.
He says your name questioningly, itâs hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. âYup, thatâs me. Now get out.â Peter touches his chest, itâs beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now youâre sitting up in bed.
âPeter, are you okay?â Itâs pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, heâs not normal. Heâs not answering, you think heâs trying but he canât bring himself to speak, heâs lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
âPeter.â You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, âPeter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,â heâs passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.
Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.
âOh, good. Youâre up.â
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.
âYeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasnât sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.â
âThanks.â His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peterâs never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.
âCan I get some of that or are you still punishing me?â The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.
âYou passed out on me last night.â
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. âI did.â
You nod, âI had to lug you up here, youâre extremely heavy when youâre dead weight.â He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
âHas anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?â
âOh no, anything I could do to make it worse?â
âI think another water and some advil might kill me.â
âPerfect, coming right up.â
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, âI should go home and shower.â Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, âeasy, tiger. May isnât home and youâre not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.â
Before you could regret the words, âif you want a shower, youâre doing it here.â He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. âNot with me or anything, I just meant so youâd have someone around.â
Peter doesnât care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.
âHelp me get my arm out?â Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, itâs covered in small knicks. Itâs a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.
âDoes it hurt?â
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. âNot really, itâs mostly my side.â
You rub his chest, âyou got a gash right here.â Itâs over his heart.
âGuess weâre twinsies now.â
If he wasnât in pain, youâd slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until heâs left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.
âYouâre trying really hard not to look at me.â
âDonât flatter yourself, Parker.â You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his backâs more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.
âGot it.â The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peterâs fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.
âYou know, this is the part where most people leave.â Itâs teasing.
âI just wanted to make sure you got in okay, itâs a high step.â Itâs a quarter of the truth.
âIâll be alright, Iâve been doing this alone for a few years.â Peter says it like itâs an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. Heâs never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure heâs okay to shower. You wonder how many times heâs passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.
âYou okay?â A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldnât imagine what itâs like for him.
âIâm just sorry youâve had to do it all alone. It doesnât seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.â
It may sound like youâre insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.
âYeah. Thatâd be nice.â
Seconds tick, itâs getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, âyou want me to get you anything from your place?â
âSure. Go shopping for me.â
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. Itâs too quiet, the Parkerâs are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.
Peterâs bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and thereâs a few extra awards heâs tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and heâs made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.
Itâs something you hadnât considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldnât he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You donât see how he couldnât, itâs the male version of a sundress.
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, âI have your clothes.â Itâs muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.
âTheyâre right here,â patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a âthanks!â and you slowly back out until youâre sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, youâre busting the door down.
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peterâs fine, but youâre speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.
âI feel human again, thanks, kid.â You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. âNo problem.â You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.
âWhere should I put this?â You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else youâd be half tempted to sniff it. âDid you tell May I was here?â You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, âyeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasnât sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.â You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt heâd get a third degree.
âI think she interpreted it as us hooking up.â Another breath, âI did not correct her.â
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. âNice.â You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically canât.
âMay knows, by the way.â You nod absentmindedly, âanyone else?â âA couple friends.â You almost make a quip like âwow, you have friends?â but you really canât find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.
âCan I ask a question?â
âShoot.â
âDo the webs come out of you?â Peter lightly laughs, itâs always the same question off the bat. âNo. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.â
âOh. Cool.â Youâre hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. Heâs so fucking smart itâs unfair, heâs too smart for his own good.
Heâs grinning at you, âis it?â You canât stop staring at his mouth, âyeah.â Youâd do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. âAny other questions?â Thereâs one. But itâs not about Spider-Man.
âNot really.â Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, âI think you are the least curious person to find out about this.â You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.
âGive me the cliff notes.â Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while heâs distracted you move in closer. âBit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-â You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder heâs a contender for worlds fittest man.
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesnât say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. â-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think thatâs pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anythâŠâ
Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peterâs waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesnât last. You kiss over his jawline, you canât hold it in, you canât fucking stop yourself. âYouâre so fucking hot,â wet marks are dotted down his neck. âI wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.â Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.
Youâre kissing anywhere you can reach, âyou gotta stop,â it comes out in a puff. âYouâre killing me here.â Too bad, not so sad, youâre latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize heâs not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. âLay back,â he does, you lean over him, youâre marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then⊠the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you mustâve blocked out the advanced healing perk.
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peterâs breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as heâs heaving for air, Peterâs trying to follow your kiss.
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. âI wanna suck you off.â
Thereâs a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.
âDoes this mean you want to be my girlfriend?â Does it? You donât think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust heâd take care of it is too much.
âNo.â
Heâs sad. Itâs not just something you think, itâs something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.
âMay told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.â You swallow tightly, youâre not liking how this is sounding. âAre you mad at me?â You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, itâs debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. âIâm not a fucking rebound.â But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.
Peter doesnât use the f word, not ever.
âWhether Iâm your girlfriend or sucking your dick, youâd still be a rebound.â Silence rings around the room. Peterâs voice is tight when he answers you.
âIs that all you think of me? Just a rebound?â
You donât know how to be honest with him. You never have. âWould I be wrong?â
âVery.â Itâs clipped. Youâve never heard Peter with an edge and you donât like it. You really donât like being on the other side of his frustration. Heâs only ever been soft and kind with you, you canât handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peterâs upset you donât know if you could handle more. Youâve never felt Peterâs cold shoulder before and it hurts.
âIâm sorry. I didnât mean it.â Itâs bullshit, Peter can sense it too. âYou did.â You chew on your bottom lip, âI did, but not like that.â Peter seems taller than normal when heâs standing over you, you canât look him in the face, itâs nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.
âDo you even like me or are you just horny?â You canât allow yourself to answer him.
âIâm an idiot.â Your face turns in, Peterâs laughing at himself. âIâm such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.â Youâre looking up at him but heâs already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.
âYou donât like me. You never did and now Iâm trying to make pieces fit where they donât.â Heâs staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, heâs saying it for himself. âIâm not a rebound.â
âYouâve never been properly loved and it shows.â
And thatâs the most brutal thing he couldâve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you canât stop it.
âI fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.â
No surprises there. âYeah, I know.â He sounds just as defeated.
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But youâre not listening.
WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you couldâve had. âIâm sure heâll come around babe, he likes you a lot.â You shake your head, ânot anymore. He hasnât answered any of my texts in three days.â
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldnât let you. Youâd sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.
You think you broke him.
âHave you tried talking to him? In person?â You shake your head, he doesnât want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.
âNat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I donât know what that means.â Your friend hugged you close, âit means you love him more than you ever did him.â You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.
It doesnât matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter wonât talk to you anymore.
âYou shouldâve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. Itâs likeâŠâ You take in a sharp breath, youâve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. âItâs like I used him.â Natalie Greene doesnât bullshit but sheâs still soft as ever with her response, itâs purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. âYou did.â
Sheâs your best friend. She should be on your side. âBut I didnât! I just-â
âYeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.â
Well, when she puts it like thatâŠ
âOf course heâs going to think you flipped your script, youâre the one who kept pushing after you told him no.â Peterâs words echo in your mind, âI respect your no, so why donât you?â Because you canât allow yourself to have him, thatâs why. But⊠you already do, donât you? Or, you did.
âHeâs gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.â
âBecause youâre fighting it. I get it, babe, Iâve been where you are a dozen times. But you donât get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know itâs Peter Parker and heâs been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, heâs right there matching your stride.â
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. âI think Iâve always liked him.â You could finally admit it. Natalieâs been there for months, years possibly. âI know. You always talk about him.â
You scrunch your eyebrows, âno I donât.â Natalie thinks you mustâve said a funny joke because sheâs laughing like it. âYeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you donât notice everything they do.â
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.
Then thereâs the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why youâve always hated her too.
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.
When he stumbled up the steps.
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses.
When he was tackled in flag football.
When he tripped over his shoelace.
When he got glue in his hair.
When he winced while dissecting a frog.
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didnât make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes heâd send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.
âNatalie,â you can hear it in your voice. Itâs dangerous. Itâs terrifying.
Itâs worth it.
âI think Iâm in love with Peter Parker.â
Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.
Step two: See above.
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you thatâs all you could do.
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, itâs soft enough you hope itâs unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeatâs in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. Youâre about to quietly escape, May doesnât let you off that easily. Sheâs surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. âHi, May. Is Peter home?â Sheâs got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before sheâs smiling sweetly.
âSorry, honey. Heâs out with some friends.â You know heâs right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. âCan I leave you with a message?â May stands straighter, she wasnât expecting this. âOf course.â
âCan you tell him Iâm sorry? And that Iâve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that heâs the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?â
May ignores the colorful language and youâre thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. âIâll let him know.â Thereâs no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that heâs allowing May to keep up the charade. You donât know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you donât deserve it.
âThanks, May.â You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. âHeâs⊠Heâs okay, right?â Your heart thumped slowly, youâre reading her face like itâs your job, you need to know heâs okay.
A tight nod. âHeâs okay.â You can breathe a little better. âGood.â
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.
Is this an asshole move? Yes.
Is this worse than what youâve already done? Possibly.
Peter still wasnât talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasnât answering your texts. You think itâs time to fight fire with fire. Youâre standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No oneâs on the other side, but he doesnât know that.
âHello? Yes, Iâm looking for J. Jonah Jameson?â Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. âI understand heâs busy. Well I just⊠Uh huh, right, I understand, yes maâam. Is he interested in Spider-Manâs identity?â
You hear something drop inside his apartment.
âYeah, I know who Spider-Man is.â Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, youâre not connected to anyone. âThatâs a low move.â You lightly shrug, âdid you expect anything more than that?â
A scoff, âwith you? No.â Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, thereâs no trying, heâs an unstoppable force, youâre moving with him. âIâm sorry! Peter, please! Iâm sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.â
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, youâre looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. âYouâre not a rebound. Not at all. I shouldâve never called you one.â
Thereâs a lot youâve done to Peter you never shouldâve done. Maybe itâs time you start owning up to it.
âI shouldâve never said you were a rebound, I shouldnât have kissed you, I shouldnât have shown up here drunk, I shouldnât have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldnât have ignored you for nine years, I shouldnât have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldnât have hurt you.â
Peterâs not saying anything and you donât mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.
âI shouldnât have hurt you. I meant what I told May. Youâre the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. Youâre Peter. Youâre nice, youâre warming, youâre always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.â
You blink through your tears. âYou were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.â Your chest feels tight, âyouâre so good to me, even when I donât deserve it. I really donât deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-â
âIâm here.â Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. âIâm right here, okay?â Itâs the selflessness that really gets you. Youâve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peterâs hugging you because you need it.
But really, itâs because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than youâre willing to admit to him yet.
âCan you catch popcorn with your mouth?â
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.
âOkay, turn off the powers and try again.â He laughs at you, âit doesnât work like that.â You huff, âwell, make it.â Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. âHa. Loser normy.â
âDid you just call me a normy?â
âYouâre just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but itâs true.â
Thereâs been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. Thereâs no more kissing, but youâd really like there to be. You think Peterâs starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, youâll do it.
But itâs all in the timing.
âDid I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said sheâd do heroin with me?â Popcorn spills on the couch, Peterâs darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. âWe didnât do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks sheâd do it with me.â
âMiserable? What, about the breakup?â
âYeah,â you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesnât hurt to talk about. Itâs not even a little sore, thereâs no bitterness or resentment. Thereâs nothing there. Itâs pure indifference.
You pushed Peter away because you didnât want him to be a rebound, you didnât want to use him to get over someone else. But you havenât thought of him since⊠since⊠you canât remember the last time you actually thought of him.
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure heâs home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.
Youâre in love with Peter and only Peter.
âI donât know why I ever thought he was worth that.â
Peter has the answer, itâs muffled around popcorn. âCause you loved him.â You pick a piece off Peterâs shirt and crunch down on it. âYeah, I donât think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.â
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. âIs it weird if we cuddle?â Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, heâs never cuddled with a girl before but heâd be an idiot to say no.
âWeird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?â Peter doesnât care about the answer. âThose are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.â Itâs all you needed, you press up against him and wait, heâs not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. Youâve never been this close to him, youâve kissed him and youâve made a bold move that backfired, but youâve never been this soft or domesticated with him.
Peterâs heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.
You expected Peter to still like you but you havenât asked. After what happened maybe he decided youâd be better friends. It wasnât talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.
But it did and youâre glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.
âDo you still like me?â
âIâm sorry, Iâve never cuddled with anyone before so I donât really know what-â
âNo, I mean do you still like me?â Peter knows what you mean. He doesnât know how you think he doesnât. âOf course I do.â You peek up at him, heâs already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.
âEven after I was shitty to you?â Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. âHoney, youâve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasnât slowed me down one bit.â
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one youâve always liked hasnât ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peterâs voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.
âCan you call me sweetheart?â
âIs that the one you like?â
âYeah.â
âSure thing, sweetheart.â
Itâs so much sweeter than you imagined.
Youâre not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasnât said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time youâre with Peter. Her tone isnât clipped and sheâs just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isnât fully trusting.
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peterâs lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove youâre not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didnât seem convinced, but she left it alone.
Two days ago she burst into Peterâs room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldnât handle her rules, he wasnât allowed to have company.
Peter didnât tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.
âI just donât get why youâre making such a big deal out of this, May. Sheâs just-â You werenât going to be involved, you werenât going to give May more ammo.
âDoor stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.â Peter doesnât agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?
But the real hint was when you werenât welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. Thereâs never been a time May denied you food, most of the times sheâd come over begging you to join so they wouldnât have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.
You watched Peterâs jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You donât think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasnât- no matter how hard it would hurt, youâd stay away from Peter.
May is all he has and youâre not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.
Peter was staying late at school for math club and itâs your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. Sheâs surprised but she melts into a smile, itâs lacking something. âOh! Peter isnât here.â
âI know. I wanted to talk to you.â Now youâve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.
âMay, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?â Thereâs a beat of silence, âare you dating him?â You swallow a bite, ânot yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.â
âYouâre asking for my blessing?â You slightly nod. âMore or less. Youâve been really nice but I feel like thereâs a little tension. I feel like you donât totally trust me with him.â Confirmation, but it doesnât hurt like you think.
âPeterâs a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, heâll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?â Can you? Yes. Itâs without a doubt. You want him and only him and youâd lay your life on the line. Thereâs been so much wasted time, Peter couldâve been your first but you were too stubborn.
Peter wasnât your first, but with everything in you heâs going to be your last.
âYes. Iâm in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.â
Mayâs mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and sheâs hugging you. A whisper in your ear, âI always knew this is how it would end.â You grin into her shoulder, âreally?â
âPeterâs nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.â You know what that means. âAre you giving me your blessing?â She laughs and pulls you closer, âyou always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.â
Time passes quickly, youâre three cookies down and youâre itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, youâre fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you canât bite back your smile or tapping feet.
âWhatcha doing here? Hi May.â Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. âI came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.â How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? Heâs the prettiest person youâve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.
âI missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Donât answer, I already know itâs a yes.â Peterâs still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. âI wouldnât be too confident about that, sweetheart.â Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. âMathew Ryan is in the club with me.â
âI hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.â His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. Mayâs watching with heart eyes, sheâs never seen you so happy. âYouâre laying it on thick today. You must need something.â
âJust you, handsome.â Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you canât hold it in. You just love him too much, itâs uncontainable. Heâs perfect. âMay, sheâs up to something. I donât trust it.â His aunt keeps grinning. âI do.â
Peter pats your back, âif you trust it, I guess I have to, too.â You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. âWhat, now?â You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.
âWhatâs up?â Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. âCan I shut the door?â A three second count, âpermission granted.â It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.
âYou said I was never properly loved.â
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but thatâs not something thatâs forgettable, thatâs something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but thatâs not who he is and thatâs not what he does and he really shouldâve apologized way before now.
âIâm so sorry, I didnât mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-â
âYou werenât wrong. I havenât been properly loved. But Iâd like for you to show me how it feels.â
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. âJust to be clear, youâre asking me-â
âIf youâd be my boyfriend.â
You let out a soft groan, youâre spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. âPeter!â He doesnât care, your feet lightly dangle, youâre laughing with him. âNuh uh, youâre not allowed to push me away anymore, Iâm your boyfriend.â
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, thereâs a new one you havenât felt before. Pride. Youâre prideful that Peterâs your boyfriend, youâve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and heâs going absolutely nowhere. Ever.
âIâve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.â A flurry of kisses over your face, âholy wow, youâre my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!â
âHoly wow?â You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. âWow, wow, wowie, my girlfriendâs a hottie.â You push him away with a disgusted sound, âthatâs so gross, Peter.â
âOops, let me repent with a kiss.â
Itâs the fireworks again. This time theyâre blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. Itâs not lacking passion, but itâs soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.
âI was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-â
âNo.â This time youâre keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. âBest kisser ever,â you give him a chaste one to prove it. âMy handsome baby.â Your waist is squeezed, âyouâre too nice.â He doesnât understand, heâll never be able to understand.
âI wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so⊠so stupid that I couldnât see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.â
Peter has secrets too. âI was friendly, but I didnât like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean⊠but then Ben died.â The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasnât something you thought about, you thought he didnât either.
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, itâs something youâll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.
âPeter,â itâs all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didnât tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.
Peterâs uncle died and you made him cookies.
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.
After two weeks he didnât need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didnât need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.
âYou pulled an Uncle Ben on me.â
A twitch in his lips, âyou were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.â Itâs not fair for him to compare the two. âI was broken up with, I didnât have my-â
âDevastation comes in all forms. Itâs not about whos is worse, itâs about being there for someone you care about.â He doesnât hide his smile, âeven if they claim to hate you for all eternity.â
âI donât hate you anymore.â
âSpoiler alert, you never did.â
Youâve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. âAre you sure you donât hate me? Cause Iâve been really terrible to you the last month.â Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.
âThatâs because youâre stubborn and didnât want to admit you liked me.â You poke his ribs, âyou knew?â
âSweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.â
âYeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.â
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought youâd love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.
And you watched love begin again.
âAnything for you, girlfriend.â
----
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đŻđźđŻđ đșđČ - đœđČđđČđż đœđźđżđžđČđż
đđđșđșđźđżđ: peter wants to be babied.
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đź/đ»: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since iâve last written and i just wanna say iâm sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long itâs been since iâve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i havenât forgotten about you! iâm getting to those soon :)

âplease hold meâ
itâs nearly 1am and youâre sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. youâve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now heâs finally here sneaking in through your window.
âare you okay baby? you finished up pretty lateâ you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.
âiâm fine. i just want you to hold meâ he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.
adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, youâre now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.
you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.
âyou know, youâre still in your suit. youâre getting my bed dirty.â
âyou just want me to take it off so you can see me nakedâ
âyouâre doneâ you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.
âhow did youââ
âiâm spider-man, babyâ
âclearlyâ you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.
âsince you want to see me naked so bad, iâll take it offâ he groans as if itâs the hardest task in the world. âhappy now?â
âvery. now come lay back downâ
you donât have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.
âyouâre so perfect petey, did you know that?â
âmmmâ he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.
âi mean seriously. youâre so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on topâ
âstopppâ he whines. âiâm blushing.â
âokay fine, iâm doneâ
ânooo, i didnât mean it! keep going pleaseâ he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.
âyou are truly such a big babyâ
âiâm your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.â
how could you deny him?
âi love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i donât know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.â
âmmmâ he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.
âyouâre so cute, i just want to squish your cheeksâ you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.
you cannot believe heâs letting you baby him like this.
âaww petey, youâre so adorableâ
âthank youâ he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.
you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.
you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker smut#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland smut#andrew garfield x reader#andrew garfield fluff#andrew garfield smut#spiderman x reader#spiderman fluff#spiderman angst#spiderman smut#peter parker blurbs#peter parker imagines#spiderman#andrew garfield#tom holland#marvel#peterparkerblurbs
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You need a massage? (Friends to something else)
You were cross-legged on your bed, laptop balanced on your thighs, tryingâand failingâto ignore the dull ache settling deep in your shoulders. Hours of hunching over your desk had left you stiff and sore, your muscles tight in a way that made you shift uncomfortably every few minutes. With a frustrated sigh, you reached up to rub the back of your neck, fingers digging in where the tension was worst.
From where he was lounging against your headboard, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, Peter glanced over.
"You good?" His voice was casual, but there was something soft beneath it, the kind of quiet concern he never really tried to hide.
You exhaled through your nose. "Just tense. My backâs killing me."
There was a pause. Just long enough for you to look up and catch him hesitating, his phone slipping from his hands as he considered something.
Then, a little unsure, he said, "I couldâuhâgive you a massage?"
Your fingers stilled against your neck. You blinked at him. Then scoffed. "Since when do you give massages?"
Peter shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. "Super strength. Good hands. What more do you need?"
Your stomach did this weird little flipâone you definitely ignored. Because, well. He wasnât wrong. The thought of Peterâs hands on you, warm and firm, pressing into all the places that ached⊠Yeah, that was dangerous. And completely unnecessary.
So, obviously, you played it off. Kept it casual. "Alright," you said, shifting so your back was to him. "Justâdonât break me."
You expected him to be awkward about it. Maybe throw in a joke, squeeze your shoulders once, and call it a day.
What you didnât expect was for his hands to land on you with just the right amount of pressureâstrong, steady, like he actually knew what he was doing. His thumbs pressed into the knots at the base of your neck, and the effect was immediate. A deep, full-body shudder ran through you before you could stop it, your head tipping forward as his fingers dug in, slow and deliberate.
"Jesus, Pete," you muttered, your voice embarrassingly weak.
He huffed a quiet laugh. "That good?"
You just hummed, too busy melting under his touch to form a real answer. His hands worked their way down, easing the tension out of your shoulders, then lower, following the curve of your spine. It was⊠methodical. Almost too good. Like he was paying attention to every spot that made you relax just a little more, every knot that made you exhale a little deeper.
And that was when you became hyperaware. Of the warmth of his breath near your ear. Of the way his thighs shifted behind you.
Of how close he really was.
It was just a massage.
Thatâs what you told yourself.
But then his hands slid lower.
Not in a way that felt intentionalâPeter wasnât like that. But when his fingers pressed into the dip of your lower back, something in your stomach clenched. And maybe it was the way your breath caught just slightly. Maybe it was the way his fingers lingered for a second too long.
Or maybe it was the fact that when you leaned backâjust a little, just instinctâyou felt it.
The unmistakable press of something hard against your lower back.
Your body locked up.
Peter went rigid behind you.
For one long, charged second, neither of you moved.
Then, just as you were about to laughâpretend you hadnât noticedâhe shifted. Just barely. Just enough for you to feel him again.
A sharp, breathless noise slipped out of you before you could stop it.
Peterâs hands twitched against your waist. His breath, warm against your shoulder, stuttered.
"Youâ" His voice came rough, strained. He cleared his throat. "You okay?"
You swallowed, turned your head slightlyâjust enough that your lips nearly brushed his jaw. "Are you?"
His grip on you tightened. Like he was debating pulling away. Like he was fighting against whatever was hanging thick in the air between you.
But thenâslow, hesitantâhis fingers flexed again. This time, they brushed just under the hem of your shirt. Testing.
Your breath hitched.
And just like that, something shifted.
No longer innocent. No longer just a massage.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned, straddling his lap in one fluid motion, your thighs bracketing his. Peter swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your parted lips and the heat in your gaze.
Waiting.
Letting you decide.
You did.
You kissed himâsoft at first, then hungrier, more desperate. He met you halfway, groaning into your mouth as his hands slid beneath your shirt, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You shifted against him, your hips rollingâjust a little, just enough to feel the hard, heavy length of him through his sweats.
His breath caught.
"Fuck," he muttered, his head dropping against your shoulder. His fingers pressed hard into your sides, like he was barely holding himself together. "Youâ" He exhaled sharply. "You canât just do that."
"Do what?" you asked, all fake innocence, even as you did it again.
He let out a strangled noise, his hands tightening on your waist. "That."
You grinned, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his jaw. "You sure you wanna keep massaging me?"
His grip on you tightened.
Then, before you could blink, he flipped you onto your back, caging you beneath him. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm, uneven.
"Not exactly what I had in mind," he murmured, voice thick, dark, promising.
A shiver ran down your spine. "What do you have in mind?"
The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk.
"Guess youâll find out."
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker smut#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland smut#andrew garfield x reader#andrew garfield fluff#andrew garfield smut#spiderman x reader#spiderman fluff#spiderman angst#spiderman smut#peter parker blurbs#peter parker imagines#spiderman#andrew garfield#tom holland#marvel#peterparkerblurbs
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Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: Youâre unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peterâs voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok
stay
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w/c: 2,005
warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)
a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap âĄ
"y/n? it's over, i got him. iâll come find you, okay?"
you don't answer.
"y/n/n? can you hear me?"
there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.
"y/n?"
nothing.
now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.
tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.
"friday?"
"yes, peter?"
"take me to y/n."
peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.
"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."
"y/n's watch is online, peter."
peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?
"would you like me to check again?"
peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.
"that's okay. thanks, friday."
he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.
peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.
it's you.
your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.
"oh my god, baby, what happened?"
"that guy."
your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.
"what guy? the one we were fighting?"
"yeah."
"he did this to you?"
you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.
"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."
"but... it hurts."
"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."
your eyes flutter closed.
"hey, hey, hey. look at me."
peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.
"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"
"my head. on top."
peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.
"iâm gonna call your dad, okay?"
you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.
"y/n? you have to stay awake."
you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.
"please wake up, y/n/n."
peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.
your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.
"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"
peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.
"it's me, tony."
"kid? where's y/n?"
a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.
"iâm on my way."
it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.
he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.
"what happened, kid?"
tony kneels down next to peter.
"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."
"okay, okay. let me see the damage."
tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.
"i found this."
peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.
"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."
"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."
you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.
"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."
"iâll let them know right away, boss."
a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.
"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."
you squint your eyes open.
"dad?"
"hey, y/n/n."
"what... what're you doing?"
"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"
you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.
"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.
"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."
"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"
"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."
the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.
"that's serious, isn't it?"
peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.
"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."
you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.
peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.
"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.
"iâm not sure, kid."
hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.
"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."
"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."
"then let's just bring her back ourselves."
tony gives peter a stern look.
"let's not."
"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. iâll swing her there right now."
peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.
"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."
peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.
"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."
he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.
if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.
"iâm sorry, tony. iâm really, really sorry."
"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."
"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."
"what're you talking about?"
peter can't hold back his tears any longer.
"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."
"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."
"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."
peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.
"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."
"you mean, you're not mad at me?"
tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.
"do i seem mad?"
"guess not. thanks."
tony pats him on the shoulder.
"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."
"okay, iâll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."
peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.
"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"
"i want peter."
"he's right here, just leading the way. iâm gonna help you."
"no, i want peter."
peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.
"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."
tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.
"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"
"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"
"sure, baby."
peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.
"can you stay with me when we get there?"
peter kisses the side of your head lightly.
"iâm not going anywhere."
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#peter parker angst#peter parker fluff#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker imagine#peter parker writing#peter parker x reader#peter parker x stark!reader#tom holland angst#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland writing#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#peter parker x you
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do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out sheâs alright?? I love ur work uâre the best xx
'No location found'
pairing: peter parker x reader
a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by âpeterâ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini seriesđ.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!
warnings: none
masterlist, requests are open !!
âThatâs not what I said!â
âOh? Well, thatâs what I heard.â
You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date youâd both planned. Itâd been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again.
Youâd thought after moving in together, youâd see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him. The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.
âY/N please-â
âNo, Peter! Iâm sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do itâs like you just make it worse.â You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, âHonestly at this point, it feels like you donât even care anymore.â
His face fell. âCome on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.â
You nodded, âRight. Think Iâve heard that one before.â You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.
âWoah, hey. Wait a minute, whereâre you going?â His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.
Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. Youâd gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, âIâm tired, Iâm gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,â you gave him a weak smile, âYou donât have to worry about me.â
âY/N you know itâs not like that. Look youâre all dressed up,â he reached for your arm, âwe can still go out. Please, let me make it up to youâ
Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away.
âPeter,â you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion.
âI donât want us to fight,â he begged.
'Weâre not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.â
âOkay.â He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. âIâll sleep on the couch?â
You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.
He deflated. He wasnât exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad.
âGood night,â he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. âIâm right here if you need anything.â
You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, âNight.â
There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.
You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didnât feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.
After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if heâd even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, youâd sleep on the couch.
Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.
I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldnât help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it.
You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didnât really want to speak to him, not yet at least. Youâd kind of hoped you wouldnât have to until tonight-
You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved.
You answered the phone. âHey Mads, how's it going.â
âHi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-â
âNo that sounds great actually,â you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. Youâd been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.
âReally? Great! So there's this raging new club,â she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You werenât sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why youâd wanted to go out in the first place.
âWeâre gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and Iâll take you!â She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but thatâs what made you like her.
âSure Maddie, thanks for the invite.â
âOf course, canât wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.â
You let out a small laugh, âI know what you mean. But weâre gonna change that tonight.
You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, youâd stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already.
You got ready quietly, only a playlist youâd turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything.
âPeter! I need real criticism!â
âWell, I canât help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!â
You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you werenât going to be home tonight. You didnât feel like calling him though, and if you didnât want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book.
Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving.
He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining heâd be out for a while but heâd made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didnât, but that wasnât too shocking to him. It didnât make it hurt any less though.
He knew he fucked up. He knew heâd disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you werenât giving him the more. And he was! But he couldnât help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.
That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasnât with you.
He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together.
On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long itâd been since heâd done this. He definitely deserved the more.
He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you werenât home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter.
Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes heâd used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning youâd eaten.
He was about to pull out his phone to see if heâd missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge.
âWent out. Be home late.â
His brows furrowed as he read. He didnât know you had plans. Hell, he didnât even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.
All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.
Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldnât fly.
Heâd sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe.
An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response.
It had been about three hours since heâd gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird.
He tried to call you, heâd refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, youâd left in the first place) but it didnât even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail.
What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldnât load. It kept saying âno location foundâ making his heart beat harder.
This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls werenât going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-
He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldnât help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay. He knew you werenât the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start.
He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. OrâŠsomething like that.
âHello?â Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away.
âHey Maddie, itâs Peter.â
âOh yeah, Y/Nâs dude,â she slurred.
âYeah, yeah, Y/Nâs dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages arenât sending.â His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay.
âSorry Patrick, whatâd you say,â she asked making Peterâs brows furrow. They werenât exactly friends, but heâd met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.
He shook his head, that didnât matter right now. âY/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?â
âOh!â She exclaimed as if sheâd just remembered something. âYeah, she is!â
Peter let out a sigh of relief.
âOr, she was.â He held his breath again.
âWhat do you mean âshe wasâ? Where is she?â
âI dunno, she left I think.â Maddie let out a little hum as if to say âtoo bad!â and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.
He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. âShe left? Whereâd she go? Where are you right now?â
âI donât knowâŠshe was bored I think. She was off today. Sâshame, she looked so hot.â
His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didnât have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault.
âWhere are you, Maddie?â He repeated.
âThat new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!â She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didnât have time for this.
He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.
There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you.
You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasnât the safest decision but you didnât really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then youâd go back. Maybe.
You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. Youâd send Maddie a text, but she probably hadnât noticed youâd left in the first. Sheâd been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You werenât sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her youâd be gone for a bit.
On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadnât eaten anything other than Peterâs waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home.
Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away.
Just as fast as heâd snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.
You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why heâd just done that, but there wasnât a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.
âPete?â Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.
âYouâre okay,â he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer.
Your brows furrowed. âWellâŠyeah. Why wouldnât I be?â
He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There mightâve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. âI came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that youâre mad at me-â
âIâm not,â you said, and you meant it. You werenât mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. âBut what's wrong?â
âMy texts werenât delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldnât track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you werenât talking to me.â He sniffled and your heart broke a little.
You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it onâdead.
âGod sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.â He looked at you desperately, âYell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I canât stand it.â
âIâm so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I wouldâve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.â Your hands went up to hold his face.
He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, âI always worry about you sweetheart, itâs my job.â
You shook your head, âYou worry about all of New York, I donât need to add on to that.â
âNo,â he said quickly, looking offended youâd even say that, âNo. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? Youâre my first priority and Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorry, that I donât show that or say it enough.
âBut Iâm going to do better, I promise. Iâm going to make it up to you because I canât lose you, I need you Y/N.â
You didnât reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.
He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. âHeels off baby,â he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didnât even realize how much theyâd been hurting until they were off. âIâm swinging you.â He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.
You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, âPeteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.â
âDonât worry,â he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, âIâll be careful, câmon.â
You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, âI love you.â
He grinned, pulling you in closer. âI love you more sweetheart.â He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. âHold on tight, Spider Monkey.â
You burst into laughter, âYou did not just say that!â
âOh I totally did,â he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again.
âOk, justâŠdonât let me go,â you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.
âNever,â he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasnât just talking about swinging.
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bombed it.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Doesn't follow the events of anything, established relationship) Synopsis: Peter is extremely concerned about his girlfriend's safety, she doesn't really share the same sentiment, and they fight, like a lot
Word Count: 10,8k
"You can't be seriousâ âI'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to chooseâ
~
Peter and Y/n rarely fought.
They just got each other. They understood each other on a deeper level; their shared traumatic experiences definitely played a part in this mutual understanding. Their love had been tested and tempered, growing stronger with every challenge they faced together. Throw some ever-growing affection and trust into the mix, and there you have it: a happy, healthy relationship.
Sure, they had their fair share of squabbles and petty arguments, just like any couple, really. But they both valued honesty and communication. They were open about their feelings in any and every given situation, always making sure they see eye to eye, always trying to find middle ground. After all, that's what relationships are for, right? Compromise.
Peter was willing to give up a lot of things to ensure Y/n's happiness. Nothing mattered to him more than making sure his beautiful girlfriend, his best friend, the love of his life was perfectly contented with how things were between them. Well, almost nothing.
The one thing Peter would never budge on was Y/n's safety. That was non-negotiable. He felt it was his duty as her boyfriend, as her superhero -superpowered superhero- boyfriend, to protect her, to make sure she never got hurt.
Now, Y/n Stark was no damsel in distress and by no means a stranger to danger and all kinds of superhero-related adventures and difficulties. Having grown up with the Avengers, her involvement with the team of heroes was inevitable.
She was âaccording to the rest of the team, Peter included- a vital part of the Avengers. She took part in missions, though in a less dynamic and active sense, usually helping come up with different strategies and plans (you can never be too careful!). She brought a âmuch needed unique and fresh perspective to the team", as her dad used to say (âI just overthink a lot, it's not that big of a deal", she would always mutter under her breath, causing Peter to roll his eyes and playfully flick her on the head).
Even though Tony (mostly Pepper) didn't want his daughter risking her life and getting caught up in the superhero world, he knew that if push came to shove, she needed to be able to protect herself. Plus, he couldn't deny that she had a talent. Her combat skills, ideas, creations, and great planning and thinking ahead skills were more than appreciated within the community. She was trained by the Black Widow herself for god's sake, she knew what she was doing.
So what could have caused this schism between them, causing Peter to leave the comfort of their bed, deciding to spend the night on the couch instead, away from the feeling of her warm body next to him?
Peter knew what she was doing. Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, right after he'd come back from his own patrol. She thought she was being sly about it, too. Really, Y/n? Now you're just insulting my intelligence.
It's one thing to play vigilante and another to outright lie about it. And Peter hated lies almost as much as he hated not knowing whether she was safe or not. And these late-night activities of hers were starting to piss him off. They were not good for his heart, either. Every time he heard the soft sound of their bed creaking as she got out of it at ungodly hours, he could feel his chest tightening. He always tried to fight the urge to get up and immediately follow after her, just to make sure she wasn't doing anything reckless.
He didn't realize right away. She didn't look like she had spent half the night fighting crime, at first. She'd return a couple of hours before he was supposed to wake up. She'd make sure there were no visible injuries and she'd go on with her day. She really thought he'd never find out (or at least not before she felt he was ready to find out).
After a few days, the lack of sleep was apparent. And no matter how hard she tried denying it, or playing it off, Peter could tell something was up. It didn't take him long to start putting one and one together; her tiredness, some unexplainable scratches here and there, the fact that crime in NYC seemed to have subsided.
Peter knew. And he didn't like what was happening, not one bit. They had talked about it once, a while back. She had done this before-gone around his back to play hero-, or at least attempted to, before Peter (with a little needed help from her overprotective, over the top father, the little snitch) brought an end to it. He thought she had understood, that she saw how she was being ridiculous and unreasonable. Recklessly throwing herself in danger, all in the name of proving something? That didn't sound like his very intelligent, very MINDFUL girlfriend.
He tried talking to her again. He gave her the chance to come clean about her activities. She denied everything.
He was mad. He was hurt. He felt betrayed. Not only did she ignore his warnings and went about it behind his back, she was also lying to his face.
And they fought. It was bad. It was unlike any previous fight they had. They were screaming at each other, hurtful words flying in the air, the tension in the room palpable. It was getting late, they were both tired, frustrated and upset.
"Y/n, for the last time. You're being stubborn about this. All I'm saying is there are ways for you to help without being ON the field. Without recklessly risking your life-"
"For god's sake, Peter. You're acting like I'm some adrenaline junkie, picking up fights with random people at the bar! I am helping you-"
"Helping me? You think making me stay up all night, worrying if you're gonna make it back in one piece, is helpful? Geez, what would I ever do without you?", he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm
"No one asked you to stay up. I know what I'm doing. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm trained and-"
"Oh, you're trained? Why didn't you just say so?"
She sighed heavily and rubbed her temples.
"Are you done? I'm trying to talk here and you're acting like a child!"
"I'm the one acting like a child? You're acting like an angsty teen, sneaking around, ignoring everything and everyone!", he realized his voice came out a bit higher than intended. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
"Listen, Y/n, this isn't a game. Your life is not a game. You're putting yourself in danger. Hell, you're putting civilians in danger! What do you think you're doing, running around playing hero? Hm? You think you're tough for going out there all on your own? You're not tough, Y/n. You're dumb. You're dumb and reckless. What do you think will happen? You think you'll be lucky every time? That nothing bad will ever happen because you are trained? All it takes is one miscalculation, Y/n, one wrong move on your end, for things to take a really bad turn. Your luck will eventually run out. You could get hurt or..."
He took a deep breath. He didn't dare finish that sentence. The thought of ever losing her was too much for him to handle.
"You're not invincible, no matter how hard got try to convince yourself. You don't have healing factor, you don't have super strength, enhanced senses. NOTHING. You're intelligent, yes. You're incredible, you're creative, innovative, truly one of the smartest people I've ever met. You've got heart, I recognize that. But it's not enough. Your gadgets and devices won't save you every time."
"One bullet", his voice cracked, "one bullet, Y/n, and you're gone. Do you get it now? GONE. DEAD. Do you understand the severity of the situation? You're risking your life. And for what? Five seconds of fame? To prove you're worthy of being your father's child? What are you trying to do?", he shook his head, frustration evident in his mannerisms.
He took a good look of her. The sight immediately broke his heart. Her gaze sparkled with a delicate brightness, the unshed tears amplifying every flicker of emotion. He felt the need the need to reach out to her, to touch her (whether that was in order to hug or strangle her he didn't know for sure). But he didn't give in. He couldn't back down. Not when her safety was on the line. He needed her to understand, to see where he was coming from.
The tears in her eyes refused to fall, clinging stubbornly to her lashes as her glare cut through the air like a blade. Who does he think he is?
"This is what you think I'm doing? Showing off? Trying to prove a point?", a bitter chuckle escaped her. "No, Peter. I'm being helpful. I'm helping you, the cops, the people of New York. Why do you always do this? Why do you have to be like this? Why do you think you get to decide whatâs best for me? Iâm trying to help you, and you're out here treating me like I'm some kind of criminal, some kind of liability, an inconvenience to you! Do you think I donât know the risks? Do you think Iâm blind to the danger? I know what Iâm walking into, but itâs my choice to make, not yours! You act like Iâm some fragile thing that needs protecting, but Iâm not, so stop acting like it.â
âI'll stop when you start acting like a responsible adult for onceâ, he replied bitterly.
âYou're not a little girl anymore, Y/n. Tony won't be always there to save you and -as much as it pains me to say- neither will Iâ
âI never-â
"You never asked me to?", he run his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner.
âI know. God, Y/n, I know. You're so goddam stubborn. You'd rather die than ask anyone for help. You're always so eager to prove your independence, that you don't need anyone to have your back. Well, news flash! You're not invincible. You're not some kind of god. And you're certainly not a hero. You can't just shrug off a bullet or an explosion or whatever insane thing you decide to get involved in next! You're human, so start acting like it. You're not expendable. Selfish is what you are.â
"Selfish? You think I'm selfish? For what? For wanting to help people? Don't you see the irony of this coming from you?â, she let out a laugh in incredulity, unable to even fathom how he could ever say that to her.
âYou think this is about me? You think I'm just out here looking for glory or some kind of thrill? Iâm doing what needs to be done, and if you canât see that, then maybe you donât understand me at all. Youâre calling me selfish, but the truth is, youâre the one being selfish here. Youâre more concerned with your own fear, your own worries, than you are about the bigger picture. Iâm not out there for me. Iâm doing what I can, what I have to, because I donât want to sit back and let things happen when I know I can make a difference.â
Peter was fuming.
"God, this is ridiculous. I can't keep doing this, I just canât! Youâre out of control! Every damn time I turn around, you're throwing yourself into some insane situation, thinking youâre some kind of superhero. What do you think this isâsome kind of game? You act like nothing can touch you, but thatâs bullshit! Youâre human, youâre not indestructible, and Iâm getting sick of it.
What do you think happens if you get hurt? Or worse, if you die? Oh, wait, you donât think, do you? No, youâre too busy basking in the glory of your own self-righteousness to realize the mess youâd leave behind. Because, guess what? Iâm the one whoâd have to pick up the pieces. Me. The one whoâs standing here, constantly worried, because youâre too damn reckless to care about the people who love you.
You want to help people? Fine, but not at the expense of your own life! You think Iâm just supposed to stand here, watching you put yourself in danger, all for some stupid idea of being a hero? Are you kidding me?! What the hell is wrong with you? Why canât you just be safe for once? Why do you have to go and do these reckless things that make my heart stop every single time? Do you even care about the people who love you?â, his chest rose and fell in sharp, measured movements, a betrayal of the battle raging within.
She crossed her arms, her fingers digging into her skin as if trying to tether herself to composure
âI know what I'm doing.â, she spat out. That was... a weak argument, that much she knew. But in her ~slightly~ emotional state, it was all she could over without completely breaking down in tears.
It seemed like that single comment angered Peter to no end, making him laugh bitterly in return.
âDo you think growing up in the Avenger's Tower makes you one of them? Here's a reality check: your little stunts don't make you a hero. They make you a liability. And if you keep this up, I don't know how much longer I can deal with it. Because I can't spend my life wondering if the next time you pull this crap will be the last time I ever see youâ
But Peter was on a roll, he couldn't stop there.
âAnd you know whatâs even worse? You donât even care. You donât care that you scare the hell out of me. You donât care that I am waiting back here, while you do something so unbelievably reckless that might result in me losing you. Because itâs always about you, isnât it? Your need to prove something, your need to feel important. Never mind the people you leave behind to pick up the pieces!â
And... silence. Complete and utter silence.
It wasnât the kind of silence that comes from comfort; it was loaded with the weight of accusations and defenses that would never be voiced.
Peter winced. He regretted saying those words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He was getting to her, he could tell. He also knew he was being kind of an ass about the whole thing, but he really needed her to understand how unreasonably stubborn she was being. He needed her to be safe, but it seemed like she didn't value her wellbeing all that much. He couldn't stand that.
Ouch. That...yeah, that did the trick. It wasn't just what he said, it was mostly how he said it. So... cold and distant, poisonous almost. Like he was taunting her. She could barely recognize the man in front of her. That wasn't her sweet, loving boyfriend, her Pete, her biggest supporter.
She understood his point of view. She is less experienced than him, especially in the sense of getting personal with the villains. The fact that she doesn't have any powers didn't help her much either. She knew he was worried about her safety, that all his anger was stemming from a place of love (even though it wasn't that evident that particular moment). But she also hoped he'd have more faith in her. After all, she is always careful, with at least three backup plans ready, just in case. She always follows protocol, doesn't make any rush decisions. And she's Iron Man's daughter for fucks sake, she does know what she's doing.
âA liability, huh?â
Her eyes were distant, gazing at something far beyond the room, avoiding contact like it might burn. It felt like there was an invisible wall around her, not built to shut others out but to keep herself from crumbling
He sighed and spoke again, this time in a slightly softer tone.
âI didn't mean it like that... I'm sorry. Look, Y/n, what I'm trying to say is Iâm scared out of my mind, and I can't keep pretending like Iâm okay with this. Every time you leave, Iâm terrified you wonât come back. Every time you walk out the door, I wonder if Iâll be standing at your grave one day, all because you thought it was some heroic act to put yourself at risk. You think thatâs noble? Itâs selfish! Itâs selfish because youâre not just risking yourselfâyouâre ripping apart the people who care about you.â
He took another shaky, deep breath and spoke in a gentle, yet firm tone, his gaze intense.
âI can't lose you, okay? I won't. And you doing this-this reckless, stupid, selfish thing- is how that's going to happen. If something ever happens to you... I won't forgive you for it.â
His voice lowered but remained firm, trembling slightly.
âAnd I won't forgive myself eitherâ
Silence settled over them once again. It was thick, like a fog settling over the room, muffling everything but the sound of their breathing. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe, as though the room itself disapproved. They sat stiffly, their gazes deliberately avoiding each other, the distance between them more like a chasm than a few feet.
Peter cleared his throat.
Things were not looking good for them right now. He didn't like it, not one bit. The room felt suffocating, the once light and warm atmosphere long gone. He truly hated fighting with her. He wished this conversation never happened. They'd be laying on the couch now in each other's arms, with her on top of him, her head on his chest, her arms lazily draped over him as he'd run his fingers through her hair, holding her close. Just talking about their day while some movie played in the background. That's what we should be doing, Peter thought. Instead, here they were, avoiding eye contact like they were about to face Medusa. But this conversation couldn't be held off any longer.
Soon enough the silence became unbearable.
âMaybe it's best if we just-â
âI should-â
As soon as they heard the other person talking, they both closed their mouths, resulting in yet another moment of awkward silence. So in sync these two, it was almost endearing.
Peter tilted his head slightly toward her, eyebrows raised in a silent invitation to speak.
Her eyes closed briefly before they looked up, a flicker of acknowledgment passing over her face as she nodded weakly before speaking in an uncharacteristically quiet tone.
âMaybe we should take some time alone... to...cool off...you know...?â
Peter sighed. This conversation hadn't led to anything. Anything other than hurt, frustration and a headache, that is. Hours of an endless emotional back and forth, all for nothing. They hadn't reached an agreement and he was certain they weren't seeing eye to eye. And this wasn't a matter he was willing to back down from, she had to realize that her actions affected him as well.
He understood where she was coming from, he really did. He understood better than anyone the burning need to help, the desire to make a difference, that deep sense of responsibility to the world. He *is* Spider-Man after all, that's his thing; he cares, he acts. He feels the moral duty to use his abilities to protect others, often at great personal cost. He doesn't mind. Or, at least, he didn't in the past (it is kind of different when you have someone at home waiting for you, you just got to be more careful, you know?).
But he doesn't want that for her. Never for her.
Maybe he was the selfish one for getting mad at her. Maybe he was selfish for hating knowing she was out there somewhere, all alone, taking justice into her own hands. But is it really selfish of him not wanting to see her getting hurt over something completely preventable? Why would she be out there risking her life when HE could be doing that instead? Did she not realize how much she meant to him?
He didn't want them to separate, not like this, not right now. But he really didn't feel like continuing this conversation. He was exhausted, his emotions all over the place, a hint of irritation still lingering. He could tell she was tired too. Plus, he still had today's patrol.
He reluctantly nodded.
âYeah...maybe we should. I have to go anyway. We'll talk about this later, okay?â
She just nodded in response and retreated to their bedroom. Peter stood there for a moment, contemplating his next move. He hesitantly made his way to the door. He didnât want to go, not reallyâbut a small, guilty part of him was already savoring the thought of the space he'd have once he left. There was a flicker of regret in his eyes as he turned away, quickly replaced by a soft exhale and a lighter step. He hesitated at the threshold, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary before finally turning it. As he stepped out, he paused for a moment, as if expecting Y/n to call him back, but when she didn't, his posture eased, and he moved forward with renewed purpose. This is gonna be fun.
Peter soon disappeared into the night, busying himself by fulfilling Spider-Man's duties. He went about with his usual routine, swinging around the most common areas, the sketchiest ones, the streets most accidents happen on. But it was an uncharacteristically quiet night; no supervillains threatening to wipe out NYC, no petty criminals running around causing chaos, no cats on extremely high trees needing saving.
Someone asked him for directions, so there was that.
(A man can't even escape his thoughts in peace, smh)
Hours passed, and it was getting later and later. Frustration, worry, and exhaustion started to catch up with him. He was tired, his body screaming for rest and his heart begging for an end to this whole ordeal. After a couple of hours of killing time by meaninglessly swinging around, Peter decided it was finally time he returned home- to her.
Peter returned to the apartment, his body tired and aching, frustration still gnawing at his. On his way back he wondered whether or not he'd find her there. She could've gone to a friend's or at her parentsâ house to avoid him. She couldâve completely ignored him and left to play vigilante again. He prayed that wasn't the case. Honestly? He half expected her too, if anything just to spite him.
He quietly entered, not knowing what to expect, but the place was quiet and empty. He scanned the room and the first thing he noticed was the food on the kitchen counter, a silent gesture from her.
He grumbled to himself, still somewhat irritated by her behavior. But the mere sight of the food, still warm and waiting for him, softened his frustration just a bit. Despite everything, she still cared enough to think about him.
He walked over to the counter, his stomach rumbling with hunger. He sat at the table, quietly eating the food, his mind still going over the events of the night. He couldn't stop the frustration from bubbling up, but he also couldn't ignore the fact that he was exhausted. The food tasted good, but it didn't do much to satisfy his frustration. He still wanted answers, he still wanted her to stop this nonsense.
He let out a quiet sigh, the sound echoing in the empty room. He was tired, both physically and emotionally. He knew he needed to sleep, to rest and recharge.
Peter opened the door to their bedroom and was immediately hit with a wave of surprise. Y/n was asleep in their bed, looking deceptively peaceful. Peter's eyes narrowed as he watched her.
He wanted to wake her up, to confront her and put an end to this. But seeing her there, asleep and defenseless, made him pause. Peter grumbled internally, torn between his irritation and the sight of her peacefully sleeping in their bed. He knew he should wake her and confront her, but something about seeing her there, so calm and vulnerable, made his anger soften just a little. Instead of waking her up, he opted to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching her as she slept. The frustration was still there, but there was a hint of worry and care underneath it all.
âHey, baby. There's food on the kitchenâ. Her voice was soft and muffled, more like a murmur than actual speech, as though weighed down by sleep.
As Y/n spoke in her sleep, Peter's annoyance melted away just a little more. Her sleepy voice was almost endearing, and her concern for his well-being, even in her half-conscious state, touched a softer part of him.
He let out a soft sigh and ran a hand through his hair, his irritation fading into the background. Seeing her like this reminded him that beneath all the chaos and recklessness, she was still the girl he cared about.
He couldn't bring himself to wake her up or to confront her right now, especially not when she was in such a vulnerable state. Instead, he sat there, watching her sleep, his mind swirling with a mix of frustration, care, and a bit of tenderness.
He still had so many questions, and he was still upset about her antics, but for now, he was content to just sit there, listening to her gentle breathing and feeling a strange sense of peace in the room. Tomorrow would be another day for confrontations and discussions.
Peter sat there for a few more minutes, just watching her sleep. The silence of the room was soothing, and the frustration he felt earlier was slowly fading away.
With a deep sigh, he finally decided it was time to get some sleep himself. He carefully got up and made his way out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
As he settled into the couch, he couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. He knew he'd have to talk to her again, to get answers and hopefully put an end to her vigilante streak.
This is bad, she thought.
Peter's presence âor absence- had woken her up from her already somewhat disrupted sleep. She kept replaying today's events in her head, almost as if she were trying to make herself angrier and more anxious. She didn't like fighting with him. Sure, she didn't agree with him in the slightest and his words angered her to no end, she couldn't deny that she missed him terribly, especially now that she had the whole bed to herself, feeling like it'd swallow her whole.
Since when does he sleep on the couch, anyway? Why did he get to act immaturely and petty? Why didn't he want to sleep in bed with her? He was the one in the wrong, blowing things out of proportion.
After staring at the ceiling for God knows how long, she decided she'd just go for it. She could be stubborn; she was certainly not above acting petty after a fight. But she missed him. A lot. She yearned for the warmth of his body, the feeling of his arms around her. She decided pettiness (and the talk they're bound to have) would have to wait until tomorrow morning.
She pushed the covers aside sluggishly, her arms moving as though weighed down by invisible chains. Her feet slid off the bed and onto the floor, landing with a dull thud, her movements slow and deliberate. She sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, hunched over, before finally shuffling to her feet with a soft groan. She shuffled toward the door, each step a reluctant scrape, the sound faint in the stillness of the room.
She slowly made her way to the living room. Her eyes immediately landed on Peter's sleeping form on the couch. Without giving herself another moment to think this through, she started walking towards him.
She carefully climbed on the couch and settled in an awkward position on top of him/ against the back of the couch. It was very uncomfortable but she could manage. What she couldn't manage was Peter-less sleep.
Peter was pulled out of his half-asleep state by the sudden movement on the couch. He blinked a few times, his vision slowly adjusting to the dim light.
At first, he was confused. Was he dreaming? But then he felt Y/n's weight on top of him, her awkward positioning making him wince a little.
He felt a surge of irritation bubble up once again. Seriously? She had the whole bed to herself, why was she cramping up the couch like this? He was about to protest, to tell her to go back to the bed where she would be more comfortable, but something held him back. Maybe it was the softness in her half-sleeping gaze, or the warm weight of her body on top of him. But instead of pushing her aside, he found himself pulling her closer, instinctively wanting to hold and comfort her.
âAre you mad at me?â
He let out a resigned sigh, his frustration giving way to a mixture of annoyance, care, and a hint of affection. Peter's eyes widened slightly at her unexpected question. He had been caught off guard by her words, and there was a moment of hesitation on his part.
But her voice, tinged with vulnerability and hesitation, stirred something within him. Maybe it was the softness of her tone, or the genuine concern underneath the question, but the irritation that had been brewing in him suddenly lost some of its sharpness.
He let out a long, quiet sigh before whispering back, his voice gentle but firm.
"Yes, I am."
They drifted into a quiet pause, the air between them tinged with hesitation. That was until she spoke again in an almost hushed tone.
âAre you very mad at me?â
Peter paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady his emotions. Her quiet plea made his chest tighten, his heart conflicted between the lingering irritation and the instinctive need to comfort her.
"Yes,", he whispered back, his voice softening a bit, "I am very mad at you."
She hummed softly, acknowledging his response before speaking up once more.
"Mad enough not to give me a goodnight kiss?"
Peter couldn't help but feel a small spark of amusement at Y/n's words. Despite everything, despite his frustration, she still knew just how to disarm him with her playfulness.
After a moment's hesitation, he relented, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smile.
"I suppose I can manage a goodnight kiss. But then you need to promise you'll go back to your bed."
"I don't like sleeping without you"
Peter's heart skipped a beat. He was taken aback by her raw honesty and the vulnerability in her voice. It softened his frustration a bit more, reminding him of the love they shared beneath their disagreements. He let out a sigh, a mixture of annoyance and affection in his voice.
"Why? Why can't you just... behave and make things easier for both of us?"
That was... *not* what she expected to hear. She suddenly felt very awake, like a bucket of freezing cold water was dumped over her. It made sense that Peter wouldn't ignore the problem at hand just to let her cuddle with him in peace. Did she like it? No, not really. But that's Pete for you. Always wanting to do things right and always in proper order.
But she was really not in the mood for that. Feeling rejected didn't help either. It was a quiet devastation, not loud or dramatic, but a slow, persistent ache she couldnât ignore. The heat crept up her neck and into her face, her body betraying the humiliation she tried to suppress. Guess she won't be getting that goodnight kiss after all.
She got off him just as quickly and awkwardly as she had previously climbed on top of him (she may or may not tried to discreetly knee him in the process).
âYou came here because you needed space. I need to respect that. I'll leave you alone", she said quietly as she got up from the couch.
"Goodnight, Peter", she mumbled without giving him the chance to respond before walking back to their room with her head hung low, her shoulders slumped.
Peter watched her walk away, her dejected expression pulling at his heartstrings. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but another part of him wanted space to think, to process everything. It was all just too much too quickly.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned back on the couch. The night was still young, and there were so many thoughts swirling in his mind. He needed time to sort through his feelings, to figure out what to say to her when they talked.
While Peter was busy staring at the ceiling and gathering his thoughts, Y/n was pacing back and forth in their shared room. She was feeling anxious.
She knew her participation in any superhero related activity -let alone playing hero all on her own, in NYC of all places- wouldn't really appeal to Peter.
She knew that, yet she did it anyway. She wanted to help, she knew she could help, so she did. Turns out all that training really paid off. She did good, if she said so herself. Criminals were caught, civilians were safe, the press was eating it up. It was a win in her books.
Despite all that, she couldn't ignore how her actions affected Peter. He seemed pretty pissed off. And him being that mad at her wasn't a common occurrence, like at all.
She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She was too emotional for that right now. Would they bounce back from this? Was he... done? Done with her? With them? She started giving through his closet, trying to find something to wear. She needed comfort, and if Peter wasn't about to provide that, his clothes would have to do.
In true teenage girl fashion, she put on some sweatpants and one of Peter's hoodies. She put some sad, break up songs -Taylor Swift most likely- playing softly in the background, as she pulled her laptop and played a Star Wars movie, Peter's favorite. She was very well aware of how ridiculous she was being. But she really couldn't find it in herself to care. She was allowed to wallow in self-pity if she wanted to.
As the movie started, her eyes began to tear up. She started thinking back to the day they first met, when they got together, when they moved into this house, essentially making herself cry more. What if this was their end?
She didn't know what possessed her to act like this. Maybe it was the crippling fear that he'd break up with her. Maybe he was done with her. Maybe that's what tomorrow's conversation would bring. Because why on Earth would he want to sleep on the couch -without even giving her a goodnight kiss-, if he wasn't planning on breaking up with her?
She cried even harder.
Lost in his thoughts, Peter was startled when he heard a soft sniffling sound coming from the room he shared with Y/n (what a great day to have paper-thin walls!). Instantly, his irritation vanished, replaced by a sense of worry and concern.
Was she crying? Was she upset? He couldn't bear to see her in distress, especially if he was the cause of it. And though part of him was still angry, the other just couldn't stand by and let her suffer.
Silently, he got up from the couch and made his way to the bedroom door.
Peter gently opened the door, trying not to make a sound. The sight that greeted him hit him hard. Y/n, dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants, sitting on their bed with her laptop in her lap, the screen lit up by the familiar glow of the original Star Wars trilogy playing. It was both sweet and heartbreaking.
Tears were streaming down her face, and her small sobs filled the room. Peter could feel his heart cracking, torn between his lingering anger and his overwhelming love for her. He stood there for a moment, frozen, until the sight of her broke the last shred of his resolve.
Peter moved forward slowly; his steps gentle yet firm. He approached her with care, as though she were made of fragile glass.
âI could hear you from the living roomâ
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up... I'll keep it downâ
"No, no," he murmured, sitting beside her.
"You don't need to apologize. I just...I just can't stand seeing you upset.", he reached out to brush the tears off her cheeks, his touch gentle and comforting.
Tears spilled freely down her face as she leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand against her cheek softening the jagged edges of her emotions. Her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs, each one a wordless apology for the harshness of the argument that still lingered in the air. And yet, she didnât pull awayâinstead, she melted into the comfort, clinging to the embrace as if it was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely. The touch was steady, almost forgiving, and despite the ache between them, it felt like a fragile truce beginning to take shape.
"I don't want us to break up", she blurted out suddenly.
Peter blinked in surprise. He was taken aback by her sudden outburst. It hadn't even crossed his mind that they would break up.
"What? No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?"
He pulled her gently into his lap, his arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. In return, she clung onto him and cried in his shirt.
"I'm sorry. I really don't want us to break up. Ever. I hate it when you're mad at me. I don't want to lose you, Peter. You mean so much to me, I don't-"
Peter held onto her tighter, his heart aching at her outpouring of distress and love.
"Y/n, angel, listen to me," he said, his voice a calm and gentle assurance in the storm of emotions. "We're not breaking up. Not now, not ever. I love you. Mad, not mad, I love you. Do you understand what I'm saying? This is not a fleeting thing. This is us. Together. Forever."
"I'm sorry for worrying you. I just wanted to do the right thing. I just wanted to help; I promise that's all I was trying to do. You're so busy and overworked and don't even complain because you're such a great person and I just wanted to help you and do something good for the world, too. I'm so sorry for making you worried. I didn't mean for things to come to this. I'm sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry-"
She cried even harder in his arms, making Peter's heart shatter at her tear-filled confession. He held her closer, feeling every word as if it weighed a thousand pounds.
"Shhhhh, shhh," he whispered, trying to soothe her. "You don't have to be sorry for wanting to help, Y/n. That's who you are. That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But there are other ways. Safer ways. We'll find them. Together. But I need you to promise, to actually promise me, that you won't do that again, that you won't go out risking your life again."
She pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her own still filled with tears.
"Peter..."
She shook her head. Her tone was quiet and soft, almost a desperate plea.
Peter's heart clenched tightly in his chest again as she pulled back to face him. Seeing her tear-stricken expression, his resolve nearly faltered. But he steeled himself, knowing this conversation needed to happen.
"I need to hear you promise, Y/n," he repeated firmly, his tone unwavering, "promise you won't do this again. Promise me right now, or I promise you we're done."
His words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of their love and their future together. Suddenly, she started feeling slightly lightheaded. Did he just-? No, he wouldn't...would he? But he just said-
"W-what? You can't be seriousâ
âI'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to chooseâ
As the gravity of what he had just said sunk in, Peter felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Had he really just threatened to end their relationship if she refused to comply? He loved this girl with all his heart, yet here he was, holding their relationship hostage like some sort of bargaining chip.
He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. He needed her to know he was serious. But he also needed her to understand this was for their own good. For her safety. For their future.
"Y/n," he said softly, but firmly, "promise me."
"But you just- you just said this isn't a fleeting thing. That we are in this together. You just said-", her voice broke and a fresh set of tears ran down her cheeks.
"And I meant it. I meant every word. But..." Peter paused, his gaze still fixed on her tear-streaked face. "But I can't watch you put yourself in danger like this. I can't stand idly by, watching you risk your life, your future, your everything just to prove a point. I can't promise you my undying love and then stand idly by and watch you throw it away. This isn't some game, Y/n. It's real life. And in real life, people get hurt. People get killed."
"No. You don't understand. I'm always very careful. I follow protocol. I do everything right-"
The words came out uneven, trembling as if her emotions were fighting their way through every syllable. Each word seemed to catch in her throat, rasping and shaking as she struggled to speak through the tears.
"This isn't fair. You can't do this. Peter, you can't-", her own sobs prevented her from speaking. The hesitation in her voice mirrored the vulnerability in her eyes, wavering as though afraid to break completely.
âNo, Y/n, it's not fair!" Peter retorted, his emotions boiling over. "It's not fair that I have to sit here, worrying about you every second of every day. It's not fair that you get to waltz into a dangerous situation, risking everything, and leave me here wondering if I'm ever going you to see you again. That is not fair. But it's the reality of who we are. And I can't watch you do this to yourself, to me, to us."
After he spoke the room fell silent. All that could be heard was the heaviness of Peter's breathing and Y/n's soft sniffles.
âWould you do it?â
âWould I do what?â
"Would you quit being Spider-Man if I asked you to?", her voice barely above a whisper.
"Wh-what?" Peter blinked, completely taken aback by Y/n's sudden question. It felt like a punch to the gut, the very thought of giving up being Spider-Man. It was a part of him, just as much as the love he had for her, and he couldn't imagine living a life without it.
"Why would you-? No, Y/n," he sputtered, the words stumbling out before he could stop himself. "It's not the same. What I do, it's different. I have powers. I have responsibilities-"
"Okay, then.â
There was a hint of disappointment and an even bigger hint of finality in the way she said it. That was all she said. Such small and insignificant words, but in that moment, it could potentially signify the end of an era, the end of their era.
The silence that followed was stifling, the weight of Y/n's words hanging heavily in the air. Peter stared at her, his heart in his throat. This couldn't be it, could it? After everything they had been through, was this really how it would end?
"No. Y/n, you can't-" Peter's voice broke, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't possibly want me to choose between you and my duty as Spider-Man. It's...it's not a fair choice. It's not fair to ask me to give up-"
âI'm not. I was just... wondering if you'd do the very same thing you're asking me to doâ, she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Peter's heart clenched as he watched the tears stream down her cheeks. The realization of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. Had he really just demanded she choose between her desire to help and her love for him? Had he really just issued an ultimatum that threatened their entire relationship?
His shoulders slumped, his resolve suddenly shattered.
"I...I didn't mean..." He stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his mistake. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm-"
"At least you won't have to deal with my recklessness anymore", she chuckled bitterly, her tone only half joking. Her voice was quiet and tired as a result of all the crying.
She really didn't want their relationship to end, especially not like this. Maybe if she took a moment to calm down (if only she could just close her eyes for a minute) she'd see they were both overreacting. They both had their point. Maybe they could even hug it out. That could work, right? It works for kindergarteners; it could work for them, too. But in her emotional and restless state all she could think about was one upping him, making him feel guilty for ever threatening to end things.
Peter's heart cracked at Y/n's half-hearted attempt at humor. He knew he had a lot of apologizing to do, but right now all he wanted to do was make it right. He didn't want to lose her. He couldn't even begin to imagine a life without her.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his Spidey-Sense suddenly flared, causing him to freeze mid-breath. "Hang on," he interrupted, his brow furrowed in concentration, his senses now fully alert. He stood silently, focusing on the signals his Spidey-Sense was sending him. Something was off, something was wrong.
His eyes darted around the room, his attention flicking to the window. Was that... movement? A shadow? A flicker of something out of the ordinary. Y/n's eyes followed Peter's line of sight on the window behind them, noticing something. Before she had the time to let Peter know, the object she noticed was already on its way to their room.
Acting purely on instinct, in a fragment of a second, she had pushed Peter off the bed, and fell on top of him, concealing him from whatever was going to burst through the window.
Peter's Spider-Sense blared again, a split second later than it would have been if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own emotions.
The force of the blast sent a wave of debris and smoke swirling through the apartment. Glass shattered around them, raining down like sharp, shiny confetti.
The rush of adrenaline barely let her register the feeling of glass breaking her skin. Peter's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Y/n had flung herself on top of him, shielding him from the impending explosion. He tried to push her off him, his strength kicking in, knowing he could withstand the blast.
But it was too late. The shockwave of the blast hit them, sending them crashing against a nearby wall. Peter instinctively wrapped his arms around Y/n, trying to protect her as much as he could. The explosion was deafening, the pain momentarily blinding.
Once the dust began to settle, Peter slowly let go of Y/n, trying to catch his bearings. Peter's eyes darted around the destroyed room, trying to assess the damage. The devastation was staggering â shattered windows, smoke filling the room, debris everywhere. But his focus was on Y/n; the only thing that mattered right now.
He gently grasped her shoulders, pulling her towards him, trying to assess her injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaky with worry. "Please, please tell me you're okay."
She barely noticed the sharp ache on her side or the warmth of blood trickling down her temple as she looked over the charred remains of what had once been their home. Her eyes stayed fixed on the crumbled remains of their house, where years of memories now lay in twisted, blackened ruins. The faint ache in her ribs with each breath was nothing compared to the hollow thud in her chest as she stared at the space that had once been their home.
Her breathing was shallow, raggedânot from exertion, but from the weight of what sheâd lost. Every step sent a jolt of agony through her body, but she ignored it, her focus locked on the blackened timbers and ashes that used to hold their memories, their life. What was a little pain compared to this?
Peter's grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Y/n, look at me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Look at me and tell me you're okay."
He needed to know she was alright. He couldn't handle the alternative. The thought of losing her was more terrifying than any explosion or villain.
"Pete, our home. It's... it's goneâ
Her words stumbled out, disjointed and hollow, as if her mind was still scrambling to catch up. ââThe picture wall, the stupid chemistry pun posters... they're all... gone.â Her mouth hung slightly open, her voice barely above a whisper, like she couldnât trust the weight of her own thoughts. Every sentence felt like a question, her tone wavering between incredulity and desperate denial, as if speaking it aloud might somehow undo the reality before them.
Peter's heart ached at her words. The thought of everything they had built together being destroyed was almost too much to bear. But right now, the only thing that mattered was Y/n.
He took a deep breath, pushing aside his own emotions.
"It's just stuff, Y/n. Things. We can get new stuff. None of it matters as long as you're okay."
âBut it won't be *our* stuffâ
Peter's heart broke at her words. She was right. Nothing could replace the sentimental value of their shared belongings â their collective memories and shared experiences. But he had to remain strong for her. He couldn't afford to break down when she needed him.
"We'll make new memories. Better memories. I promise," he said softly, his hands still on her shoulders. "We'll find a new place, and we'll make it ours. It'll be even better than before. You have to trust me."
"Trust you? You just broke up with me!â, her tone was almost accusing as tears began running down her face.
Peter's heart felt like it was tearing in two as the words left Y/n's lips. He hadn't meant it, he *never* would have meant it. He only wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. But he realized his own fear and anxiety had caused him to make a mistake, a terrible mistake.
"Y/n, baby, please," he pleaded. "It wasn't real. I was scared. I was worried about you going out and putting yourself in danger. I... I panicked. Please, you have to know... I love you."
"You have a funny way of showing people you love them", she muttered sarcastically under her breath. âAnyway, is that supposed to make me feel better? You gave me an ultimatum, we kinda broke up and an explosive device literally demolishes our home". Angry tears were running down her face.
"What is going on today? And you were mad because what? Because I risked my life? NEWS FLASH, PETER. THAT'S WHAT YOU DO ALL THE GODDAMN TIME. But I TRUST you and BELIEVE in your need to contribute to the greater good"
"And I'd never- ah, fuck", she hissed and pressed down on her side
Peter's eyes widened. Immediately, all other thoughts faded into the background. He quickly moved to her side, lifting up her shirt to assess the damage. His eyes fell on a nasty cut on her side, blood slowly seeping out.
"You're bleeding," Peter said, his voice trembling with panic. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier?"
"Because I was in need of a red shirt- obviously I didn't know!"
Her tone sounded sarcastic and frustrated; a hint of fear mixed in there as well.
Peter huffed, feeling an emotional whirlwind. Mainly relief and the tiniest bit of irritation. Of course, she couldn't resist a snarky comment even in a crisis.
"Right, because bleeding is the current trend," he quipped, trying to match her tone. "Red's not really your color, by the way. You're more of an orange gal."
He couldn't help but feel a hint of affection towards her, even as he berated her.
âParker, I swear to God, if you don't zip it right now, I'll make you regret ever asking me out on that first dateâ
Peter paused for a moment, caught off guard by her comment as it reminded him how he just threatened his lovely girlfriend -who he's madly in love with and would literally die for- he'd break up with her if she didn't stop doing something she loves. Her words sent a jolt of guilt through him; he could hear the hurt in her voice, and he knew he was the cause of it.
He shook his head, pushing the weight of his mistake to the side for now. Y/n was bleeding, and that was his first priority. He would deal with the fallout of his ultimatum later.
"Hang on," he said softly, gently lifting her up. "We need to stop the bleeding. Then we'll talk."
He gently wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight as they made their way to what was left of the kitchen. The sink miraculously survived the explosion, and he helped her lean against it. Grabbing a clean cloth, he ran it under the faucet, wetting it.
"This might hurt," he warned, gently pressing the cloth to her wound.
âI'm not talking to youâ, she said almost right away.
Peter paused at Melina's response. Her voice was laced with frustration, and he couldn't blame her. He had screwed up, big time. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She was being stubborn, and he knew she had every right to be.
"Look, I get it. You don't want to hear from me right now. I messed up, and I know that," he said softly, his gaze fixed on her. "But you're bleeding. I have to help you. Please, let me help you. Then you can go back to giving me the silent treatment if you want, okay? Plus, you don't have to talk. I'll do all the talking. Just let me patch you up, okay?"
His voice was gentle, the frustration and anger from earlier having faded into the background. He knew that making things right with Y/n was going to take more than just words. It was going to take action.
"I don't want to hear you talk either", she mumbled childishly.
Peter raised an eyebrow at her petulant response. He had no doubt she wasn't in the mood to engage in conversation right now, but he refused to let her bleed out on her own floor because she was mad at him. He had to patch her up.
He exhaled softly, gathering a bundle of supplies from a nearby first-aid kit.
"You know, you're adorable when you're angry," he commented, unable to help himself. He started carefully cleaning the wound, his hands moving with precision and care.
"And you're still talking"
He couldn't help but smile at her stubbornness. He had truly fallen for a strong, independent woman. "Sorry, I just can't resist when my girlfriend's bleeding and fuming. It's a dangerous combination."
He carefully began stitching up her wound, his hands steady and sure. "Just remember, a little bit of anger and banter make for the best love stories. We might be the next big blockbuster, with how dramatic we are."
âEx girlfriend", she corrected with an eye roll at the irony of it all.
"And no love story for us. You can pursue your romance with the Becky from down the street now", she said grumpily, the thought alone tugging at her heartstrings
Peter let out a sigh of exasperation at Y/n's correction. He knew he had made a mistake, and it hurt to see her refer to herself as his ex-girlfriend, but for now, her cut had his full attention. He couldn't get sidetracked.
"You're right, I'm sorry. But you know, we could be the next enemies to lovers, if you play your cards right. A little banter, a little fighting, and then some dramatic make-up scene. The audience will love it."
He finished stitching up her wound, his touch gentle despite his words.
She wanted to stay mad at him, she really did. But it was hard to when he was making silly little comments like these. A small smile made its way to her face but she quickly bit down on her lip to stop herself before he saw and got cocky about it.
Peter's keen Spidey senses picked up on the shift in her demeanor. He caught the subtle smile she tried to hide, and it warmed his heart.
"Oh, is that a smile I see?" He said in a teasing tone. "I knew my charm would get to you eventually. Just imagine, if you're already smiling after breaking up, what could happen if we make up? The world might just explode from our awesomeness."
"No one's smiling, you must've hit your head"
Peter chuckled at her quick defense of her smile. He finished applying an antiseptic to the wound and gently covered it with a clean bandage.
"Right, of course, I'm just seeing things," he replied with a playful wink. "But hey, if I did hit my head, maybe I'm having a vivid dream where you and I are the star-crossed lovers in the epic love story that is our lives. And you know what that means, right?"
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Wake me up with a kiss, Melina."
"That was the corniest thing I've ever heard. Plus, I have this rule of not kissing ex boyfriends, sorry"
"You're really gonna play hard to get?", Peter countered, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, I guess I'll just have to win you back then. I've defeated villains and battled super-powered monsters. Winning your heart back can't be much harder, right?"
He stood up, helping her up as he did so. He couldn't resist pulling her towards him, his hands lightly settling on her hips. "And just so you know, I'm a great kisser."
"Really? You'd think I would know, considering we spent the last four years of our lives together"
"Touché. But you know what they say, practice makes perfect. Maybe I should give you a refresher. After all, I can't have you going around thinking I'm a bad kisser, can I?"
He gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his gaze filled with affection.
"So what do you say? For old time's sake?"
"Old time being... yesterday?"
Peter shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Well, technically yes, but you know what I meant. Besides, yesterday was a lifetime ago. We've had an explosion, a break-up, and a reunion. That's a lot more than most couples experience in a lifetime."
He paused for a moment, a genuine warmth seeping into his voice.
"In all seriousness, Y/n, I messed up. I've regretted it this entire time. I'm so sorry. Please give me another chance to prove it. To prove that we're... perfect together."
â âThis entire timeâ being...what? Thirty minutes?"*she said with a snort of amusement.
Peter chuckled, his smile widening. "Alright, alright, I get it. We can't all be as patient as you with our ex-boyfriends. But seriously, Y/n, I mean it. I regret what I said. I was scared, and I made a mistake."
He paused for a moment, his gaze growing serious. "I love you. I want you. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to win back your trust and heart."
He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Can we... just start over? Please?"
She pulled her hand away from his and just stood there, watching him for a moment. After a bit she extended her arm towards him and introduced herself.
"Y/n Stark", she said with the tiniest of smiles evident on her lips.
âWho's being corny now?â, he rolled his eyes in a playful manner before wrapping his hand around hers, savoring the feel of her skin against his.
"Y/n Stark," Peter echoed, his voice soft with affection "It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n Stark. I'm Peter Parker. But you can call me anytime."
With that, he gently pulled her closer, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek. He leaned in, his lips gently brushing against hers, sealing their newfound beginning with a tender, heartfelt kiss. She laughed softly against his lips, the pickup line catching her off guard. Peter couldn't ignore the fluttering in his chest as her laughter met his lips. The sound was like music to his ears, and he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist.
Pulling away slightly, he whispered in her ear, "Did that meet your witty standards, Miss Stark?"
"I'll let it slide", she said with a serious expression, nodding slightly before a smile made its way on her face again.
Peter grinned, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Only let it slide? I'll have to step up my game, then. How about this?"
He leaned in again, his voice a low murmur against her lips. "I swear I'll be your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if you let me swing by your place every night."
She snorted in amusement âThat was so badâ
âWas it now?â With that, he captured her lips in a kiss, expressing the depth of his feelings for her with each lingering moment.
Their lips met softly, tenderly, as if every touch was a gentle reminder of how much they meant to each other. It was unhurried, each moment lingering with the quiet depth of love that words could never capture. There was no urgency, only a profound warmth, a silent apology woven into the way their hands cupped each otherâs faces. The kiss held forgiveness, not as a plea, but as a gift, an unspoken promise that they were ready to move forward together. It wasnât just an expression of loveâit was a vow, a renewal of everything theyâd shared and everything they still hoped to build.
After a bit, they pulled away to catch their breath.
âSo, we're together again?â, she asked playfully.
He looked at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement as before he softly kissed her forehead "Please, we were never not togetherâ
With that, they fell in silence.
The silence wrapped around them like a soft blanket, warm and steady, filling the spaces where words werenât needed. It wasnât heavy or awkward but gentle, a quiet acknowledgment of shared understanding. The only sounds were the subtle rhythm of their breathing and the faint rustle of the world outside, creating a calm that felt almost sacred. In that stillness, there was no need to explain, no need to fill the air with chatterâit was enough just to be there, side by side, letting the silence speak what their hearts already knew.
âAre we going to ignore the fact that we're homeless?â
A small chuckle left Peter's lips as he pulled her closer.
"You always have to ruin the moodâ, he said jokingly, âWe'll figure it out, baby. Just you and me. And your dad. We should probably call him and beg him to let us crash because we're kind of screwed otherwiseâ
#peter parker#peter parker angst#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker x stark!reader#peter parker x you#spider man#spiderman x y/n#spiderman x reader#spiderman x reader angst#spiderman#tom holland#tom holland x reader#marvel mcu#mcu#marvel#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x y/n#tom holland fanfiction#angst x reader#x reader angst#angst with a happy ending#angst#x reader#x y/n
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Husband Material
Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Summary: It was one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. A proper shit day and all you need is a hug from your boy.
Word Count: Roughly 1.1k words
Warnings: Domestic fluff, reader has a shitty day, one curse word, mild innuendo, slight angst if you squint
Authorâs Note: A little drabble for those who need a Peter Parker hug. This was done at 3 in the morning and is barely edited.
Navigation
Divider by: @strangergraphics
It had been one of those days.
From the moment you woke up, everything seemed to go wrong. Work was a disaster. Your boss was unusually demanding and you got bad news from a co-worker. Plus, the heated argument with a family member during lunch had left a bitter taste in your mouth.
That sealed the deal.
It was a fucking horrible day.
By the time you got home, you felt like a storm cloud ready to burst.
It was a complete and utter shit day.
As you unlocked the door, Peter was on a call, gesturing to you with a warm smile and mouthing, âHey, bug,â before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. It was a small thing, but it helped
You offered him a faint smile, the best you could muster, before muttering something about needing a shower.
The hot water didnât wash away the bad day like you hoped it would. Instead, it just made you feel even more exhausted.
You got dressed with a deep sigh, trying to summon the energy to face the rest of the evening.
But your sour mood came to pause when you saw Peter. Your Peter.
Peter was on the couch, a mug of tea resting on the coffee table in front of him, his glasses perched low on his nose. His eyebrows were furrowed in an adorable scrunch as his long fingers absently toyed with the corner of the page as he read.
You couldn't decide if you wanted to bury your face in his sweater or have him buried inside you until you couldn't think.
He was wearing his softest sweater, the light blue one you always steal, and a pair of loose sweatpants that hang just right on his hips.
He looks impossibly cozy, his hair slightly messy, and the sight alone makes your heart ache in the best way.
Peter glances up as he hears your footsteps. âHey, bug,â he says with a smile on his face, his voice warm, making you want to melt into him. âEverything okay?â
You nod, but the corners of your mouth tremble as you step closer. âI just need a hug,â you whisper, your voice small.
Without hesitation, Peter sets the book down, his glasses slipping off his nose and he rests them on top of his book.
âCome here,â he says, his arms already opening for you.
You practically fall into him, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrap securely around you. Heâs warm and his sweater is so soft. The faint scent of his cologne and the tea he was drinking enveloping you.
Peter holds you tightly, one hand gently rubbing circles on your back, the other cradling the back of your head.
âYouâre okay,â Peter murmured, rubbing slow circles on your back. âIâve got you.â
You sniffled, clinging to him tighter. âIt was such a shit day.â
âI know, bug.â His lips brushed the top of your damp hair. âI could tell the second you walked in. Talk to me about it, or donât. Whatever you need.â
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes glassy but thankful. âI just really needed this. You.â
His thumb brushed over your cheek, and he smiled softly, his brown eyes warm. âYouâve got me. Always.â
Peter leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then another to your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You melted into him, letting his love wrap around you.
When he pulled back, he studied you for a moment, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. âHow about I make us some hot chocolate? Weâll watch something mindless, eat whatever snacks we have, and just shut the world out for a while.â
You let out a breathy laugh, the first real smile of your day tugging at your lips. âThat sounds perfect.â
Peter grinned, stealing one more kiss before standing up. âStay right there. Iâll take care of everything.â
As you curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that still smelled faintly of him, you realized that even on the worst days, Peter Parker was the kind of husband material that made everything else bearable.
He's your home.
Peter disappeared into the kitchen and a few minutes later, Peter returned, balancing a tray with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, a plate of cookies, and a bowl of popcorn. He set it down on the coffee table then plopped down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
âHot chocolate for my lady,â he said, handing you a mug.
You took it with a grateful smile, the warmth of the ceramic seeping into your palms. âYouâre too good to me, you know.â
âNot possible,â Peter said, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. âYou deserve all of it. Even on your worst days. You take care of me on shitty days, I'd be stupid not to do the same for my girl.â
You nudged him with your elbow, but he just grinned, pulling you closer. âNow, what are we watching? Rom-com? Thriller? Or do we just marathon bad reality tv until we canât feel feelings anymore?â
You laughed softly. âWatching reality tv sounds like the exact thing I can handle right now.â
âPerfect,â Peter said, grabbing the remote. âIâve got the trashiest shows lined up just for this kind of emergency.â
As the first episode of some ridiculous dating show began to play, you leaned against Peter, resting your head on his shoulder. He held you close, his hand tracing patterns on your arm as you both sipped your warm drink.
Halfway through the episode, he pressed his lips against your temple again. âFeeling a little better?â he murmured.
You nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. âYeah. A lot better, actually.â
Peterâs gaze softened, and he reached up to brush a thumb across your cheek. âGood. Because seeing you upset kills me, bug. You donât have to handle it all on your own, okay? Iâm here.â
âI know,â you said, your voice barely above a whisper. âI donât know what Iâd do without you.â
âLucky for you, youâll never have to find out,â he teased, his lips turning into a playful smile before he kissed you again, this time slower and deeper.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and full of affection. âI love you.â
You smile softly. âI love you too, Pete. So much.â
He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. âGood. Now, let's relax and eat way too many cookies.â
You laughed, snuggling closer to him. And as the ridiculous show unfolded, Peterâs sarcastic commentary made you laugh even harder than you thought you would tonight.
No matter how bad the day had started, being with him made everything feel okay in the end.
Always.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @laaundromat @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @bethies-world @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @chayceschultz @kdelarenta @alexxavicry @gryffindorsblog
If you'd like to be added to my taglist
Much love x
- Maeve
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Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.
The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.
There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.
He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.
Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.
It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.
It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.
He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.
His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.
It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.
He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.
The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.
And then it pulls off its mask.
There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.
He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.
Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?
Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.
The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.
Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.
This is all so wrong.
Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.
Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.
Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.
Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.
This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.
Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.
It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.
Oh.
Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.
"Who's there?"
Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.
"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."
Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.
"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.
Nothing.
Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.
Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-
The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.
"Shit," Peter breathes out.
Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.
"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."
Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.
Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.
Tony smirks, "that's it."
Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.
Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.
On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.
"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"
Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.
"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"
Tony moves it to YES again.
"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"
YES.
"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."
Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.
"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"
Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.
"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."
Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.
"Do I know you?"
YES.
"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"
The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.
Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.
Peter's shoulders sag.
"Uncle Ben?"
NO.
"T- Mr. Stark?"
Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"
YES.
Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.
Peter breaks out into a matching smile.
"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.
Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.
Together.
#peter parker#tony stark#irondad and spiderson#spider man#iron man#marvel mcu#post no way home#peter parker angst
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âlate-bloomerâ



plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.
a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha
Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"
You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.
You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."
No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.
But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."
"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."
"I'm serious, Pete."
He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."
"How did it feel? Do you know?"
"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."
Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.
You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."
You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.
A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."
Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"
A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.
You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.
But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.
At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.
Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.
But it wasn't laughing you worried about.
"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.
Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."
Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.
Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.
"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"
There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."
Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"
"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."
"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.
You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.
It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend whoâdespite popular Midtown High opinionâhas always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."
You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."
You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.
Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."
It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."
"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"
"I really don't want to. Move."
"Why are you shutting me out?"
"Because I want to go home. Move."
"Is it because of what I said?"
"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."
The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.
Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.
"I'll see you later, Pete."
You let his front door shut on its own.
It hasn't been great.
What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.
You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.
So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.
It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.
And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.
Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.
You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-
He's sitting in your kitchen.
Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.
You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."
Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."
Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"
"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.
You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."
"Busy avoiding your best friend."
You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.
The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.
"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."
Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.
"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."
"It's not a big deal?"
"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."
"So it doesn't matter at all."
"Correct."
"Right."
"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."
You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.
Suddenly, you're released.
You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."
You smile, "And I appreciate that."
Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"
"Zilch. Nada."
"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."
You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"
"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."
Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."
"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"
"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."
"And now we do."
"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"
He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."
You're six years old again.
You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.
You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.
And you're thinking... you start thinking something.
You're thinking it would be funnyâthat Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curiousâand you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.
Peter's still staring at you, waiting.
Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.
But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.
You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.
When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.
Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."
Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.
Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."
He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."
You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.
Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wetâhe'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat downâand they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.
You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.
You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"
You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"
Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."
"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."
"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"
"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."
"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."
Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"
His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."
You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.
Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."
"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"
"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"
You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."
You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.
This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.
So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.
Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.
You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"
You nod, speechless.
Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."
You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."
Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."
"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"
"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"
You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.
He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.
Did it? You stare up at Peter.
"We can try as many times as you want."
You might have a very different problem than you started with.
taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes
#peter parker x reader#peter parker scenarios#peter parker imagines#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker#spiderman x reader#spiderman scenarios#spiderman imagines#spiderman fic#spiderman fluff#spiderman angst#andrew garfield#spider-man#mjwrites#tasm#fandom; marvel
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death of a hero. â
mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part two.
IN WHICH after getting attacked, you find out that your dad & peter have kept spiderâmanâs identity a secret.
author's note â highly recommend reading part one first!! this cured my writer's block !! part three coming soon!!! :)
WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) â hurt reader [physically/emotionally], swearing, mentions of blood, a flashback to homecoming, lots & lots & lots of angst.
read part one | part three here.
gif found here.
âšmasterlist.âš
3.4k.
Never in your life did you think youâd be targeted and attacked, then be smiling by the end of the night. You couldnât fight the small grin touching your lips, couldnât stop the butterflies that numbed each wound still scarring your body.
Somehow, despite it all, Peterâs words gave you something to hold onto, something to keep you goingâsomething hopeful. It gave you something to rewrite the painful narrative that your attacker had spat at you just an hour earlier.
âWhat a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.â
âYouâve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think youâre weak? Impossible.â
Once you finally got to the stairs to shower, you tried to swing your leg up, immediately met with a harsh reminder of how bad your bruises would be tomorrow.
A wince parted your lips, sparking from the ache in your right hip and the direct strike it sent to the wound on your torso.
Perhaps you needed Peterâs help after all.
Taking a breath, you felt less hesitant than before to ask for help. It wasnât like you had anything else to hideâyou were tattered and torn up, topless and sticky with blood.
Besides, you were used to walking with the weight of the wounds, at this point. You cut the distance to the kitchen in a matter of slow seconds.
âWhoever attacked her tonight planned this.â Peterâs words made you pause just outside the entryway, hidden behind the wall just beyond. You blinked a bit, immediately feeling the weight of their conversation. âIt wasnât by chance, she was targetedââ
âYou donât know thatââ Even as he cut Peter off, your dadâs response was cut short.
âAnd you donât either!â Both of the boys in the kitchen held something urgent to their words; the same sense of urgency that laced the undertones between them all evening.
Whatever conversation you were overhearing, you knew in your bones that they didnât want you to hear it.
Sucks for them.
Peter continued: âThe way sheâs acting.. Somethingâs off about what happened.â Your blood froze to ice at the sentence. âAnd I think she deserves to know why I wasnât there to defend her tonight.â
Thick silence swelled in the room, and you suddenly feared that your racing heartbeat would interrupt it. You had to remind yourself to breathe, and remind yourself to be quiet.
As tempted as you were to step in and ask questions, you knew that whatever they were keeping from you was more likely to be discovered from where you were.
Somehow, this was something they wanted to hide from you. The secret, whatever it was, made the air around you feel slimmer and heavy all at once. It sent your thoughts into a spiral, and an urge to question the two people closest to you.
âLook, kid. I donât blame you for what happened tonight.â Tony took words from you that you hadnât even known how to phrase to Peter yet. It sent a twinge to your heart, draped your panic in sympathy for him.
âI know.â You could tell Peter needed to hear the words, even if he didnât know how to admit it.
âAs much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/Nâs attacker, I donât know if coming clean about everything will solve this.â
Something sunk in you, deflated your spirits. It hurt that theyâd hid this from youâwhatever it wasâand had been lying for God knows how long.
You could hear the jab in Peterâs own optimism when he spoke up again. âThen when do you plan to tell her?â At least, he was trying to come clean.
âI donât know..â Your dad was honest, and sullen about it. It only added to your confusion.
Perhaps, they werenât going to tell you ever. Maybe if you just revealed yourself and asked your own questions, youâd actually get somewhere.
Peeling yourself off the wall and taking a few steps into frame, both Peter and your dad were completely oblivious to you.
Despite how you stepped into view, they remained focused on the conversation, and your dad continued. âIâll tell you what: you tell me how youâd suggest telling Y/N youâre SpiderâMan, and Iâll consider itââ
The whole world stopped moving.
âPeterâs what?â
You couldâve thrown up at the realization, at how cold and hollow the room suddenly became. The secret was out, and the quick and wide eyes that fell to you told you just how vital this secret was.
Peter was SpiderâMan.
Even as you stared at him, eyes as wide as his, you couldnât shake it. Your best friend was SpiderâMan, working alongside your father and found family.
The two of you held eye contact, trying to read the other. You could read the remorse and apology and panic swelling in his wideâeyed stare, but you hoped that some of the anger building in your own was silently translated regardless.
Your dad tried to clear his throat, tried to slice through the rousing tension between the two of you, but you didnât break from it in the slightest.
âDinnerâs ready.â Tony tried to make a joke. To joke at a time like this, as if he wasnât an accomplice. As if he wasnât keeping this from you, arguably more than Peter had been.
It was the last straw youâd been offering, swiped from your hands and dissipating with your patience.
You scoffed, tears finally finding your eyes. The heat of them was boiled by rage, and you didnât have the decency to hide it. âFuck off.â
The room was too hard to stand in. You walked away, reminded of why you were even standing in the kitchen in the first place.
Pain itched its way up your priority list, but you didnât care; finding a way up the stairs was the least of your worries. You were more concerned with how quickly you could get away.
Especially as you could hear Peter calling after you, following the path you were carving between you.
âY/N!â He spoke your name like a plea, like it would somehow apologize for all the dirt youâd uncovered. The sound of his voice, however, only seemed to drive you further from him.
It split your heart into more pieces than you knew how to count.
You already battled the insecurity of being weak. A weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark. With all the time you spent in the compound, with your friends and family, you were one of the only powerless people among them. This whole time, you thought Peter understood.
You thought the insecurity was shared, reciprocated.
Clearly, you were wrong and an idiot. You were the only one powerless among them.
It made you feel so stupid; to see all the inside jokes tossed over your head, to see every stupid excuse he made thrown back in your face, and he had the audacity to be sorry?
Damn right, he should be.
Peterâs touch felt like sandpaper to your skin as he reached for your hand. You yanked it out, not bothering to turn around.
You tried to be strong and suck up the pain, wanted more than anything to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your roomâtwo quick steps up the stairwell and the adrenaline wore off. You slowed your pace, fighting off the wincing, and wanting anything but to ask for help from SpiderâMan.
âY/N, please.â His voice broke, and you felt sinister to think him deserving of it. âPlease, Iâ I wanted to tell you, I promiseââ
He mustâve been surprised when you turned around, at the speed you pivoted, at how intense your expression came across, because he startled.
Your eyes held no response to the hot tears flooding from them, only holding space for the anger and hurt you didnât have the energy to hide from him.
âPromise?â The word came out whispered, threatening to break just as his words did. âYou promise, just like how we promised to tell each other everything?â You saw each stab of each word and exactly where it hit on him, especially as your voice grew in volume. âJust like how you promised I wasnât weak, when clearly, you know damn well how ironic that is!â
Twin tears slid down the length of his face, and you caught the subtle tremble in his bottom lip that he tried so hard to hide. âPlease..â Now he was the one whispering, and you wish it sounded as satisfying as you wanted it to.
âDonât fucking sit there and act like youâre the hero here, Peter..â You couldnât help the growl, couldnât help the distaste inking down your body. Sure, youâd been hit with a knife just an hour prior in the evening, but you didnât feel stabbed in the gut until now. âDonât act like you understand shit about how Iâm feeling right now!â
From just beyond, Tony started walking over, stepping quickly. âHang on, Kid.â He cut in, stopping just a few paces behind Peter. âDonât blame Peter for this.â His words practically turned up the heat on your burning rage. It was an effort to keep from boiling over. âI was the one who told him to keep quiet.â
The shakiest breath youâd taken all night forced its way down your throat. You finally pulled your eyes from Peter, watching your own father flinch at just how hurt you were. âNo, you were the one who decided to be selfish!â
The room had never been so quiet, even the walls and the city beyond hushed to listen.
âI donât care who you thought you were saving here, but it wasnât me.â Perhaps rage wasnât the word you should use to describe the venom dripping off your words. You were seething, a mixture of betrayal and downright distraught.
âI am not useless.â You felt the need to emphasize; to you, or the two faulty in front of you, no one could tell. âI may be the only powerless person in the fuck ass Avengers, but at least Iâm fucking honest.â
When you met Peterâs eyes again, you almost couldnât keep your composure. Maybe he was breaking apart just as quickly as you were, but you didnât put in effort to hold room for an apology for him. You didnât see the need to give one at all.
âIâm sorry..â He couldnât bring his voice above a whisper, above the tremble shaking each breath he took. And watching the way your fatherâs posture craned in sympathy to it finally gave you a cue to leave. You couldnât take it anymore.
You glanced between both of them, still ignoring the consistent stream of tears dripping off your nose and chin. âYou both fucking should be.â
Holding your head high, you made your way up the stairs, pausing three steps up your trek when you heard a singular step in your direction.
âDonât fucking follow me.â
And you didnât look back.
The second you shut and locked your bedroom door, unshakable sobs spilled from your throat and choked you dry. You had never felt so isolated, so alone, and so pained.
Truly, you did not know how it would get better from here, and all you wanted was to be held.
You didnât even know who you'd talk to about this. This betrayal stretched across every person you trusted, further than your eyesight.
It was stupid, and you blamed yourself, but all you wanted to do was talk to Peter.
Maybe not about it or to confront it right then, but you suddenly missed him and his support. You felt like that had been stripped away from you.
You weren't sure how to trust him anymore, let alone anyone else who hid this from you.
It didnât help that you replayed countless upon countless interactionsâwith your father, with Ned, and with Peter Parker SpiderâMan himself.
It reminded you of the last time you were mad at Peter, three years prior.
At the Washington Monument.
You remember him flaking on the academic decathlon, and flaking the night before. You were upset because he was obviously hiding something and he wouldnât tell you what.
âYou promised weâd hang out tonight.â You remember calling after him, walking half the length of the hotel hallway after him, too. âI feel like I havenât seen you all week!â
Peter was a pro at walking backwards, then and now, and as you always knew him to be. Even as you knew him as a klutz, even as it led him to keep walking away from you. âIâll be back soon. I promise!â
It felt unfair to him to get frustrated with him, but you were. You were upset. âWhat? So your promises mean nothing?â
That got him to stop.
âWhat? No!â Defense, immediately. His eyes displayed more apology than his lips did, taking steps towards you. âI just.. I have to go, and I can explain it laterââ
Your head shook at him. Whatever sparked you to feel upset had been growing for a while. It had been growing since he started ditching you a few months prior. âThatâs what you said last time.â There was hurt in your voice, and you know he heard it.
âBut Iââ
âWe promised to tell each other everything.â You recalled your childhood together, your friendship before you started growing up. The two of you had known each other since elementary school, so changes like this was inevitable. It wasn't fair to hold him to the same standards you used to. âBut if you want to go, donât expect me to be buddy-buddy when you get back.â
You remember how it felt to walk away, but you remembered how it felt to hear him leave even more. That was harmful.
He was entitled to grow up, just as you were, but the shifty way he started growing distant from you got you overthinking.
It got you nervous that maybe he was seeing someone, and that hurt more than anything else. Especially that he was hiding it from you.
What sucked the most was that Peter wasnât back soon, or even that night.
In fact, he wasnât even at the academic decathlon.
Part of you was relieved to get space from him, seeing how difficult all these feelings were to process; another part worried about him, but every time your anxiety would fester, something would serve a reminder of why you were upset in the first place.
You won the decathlon without him. As you should.
After that, your team went to the Washington Monument, and Ned swore that Peter would meet you all there.
âLook!â Ned tried to convince you, tried to break your unamused expression. âHis location says heâs almost here.â And the phone screen he flashed at you proved honesty. Peter was minutes away.
Before you could muster a response, Nedâs screen changed, and Peter was calling him.
There was an awkward exchange of glances between the two of you before Ned answered the call and you walked through the metal detectors.
âPeter, are you okay?â You couldnât help but eavesdrop. You missed a phrase or two while security patted down your blazer. All you caught was Ned muttering a subtle âI covered for you,â and then Liz Allen taking the phone from his hands.
Something hollow carved into your stomach at the sight, and you began to speculate whether Liz was the girl he was sneaking off with or not.
You didnât wait to find out. You walked right into the elevator, joining the rest of your decathlon group.
You didnât remember much about the trip up the elevator, all you remember was light emitting out of Nedâs backpack and something radioactive blasting right into the roof of the cart.
Suddenly, with trembling limbs and a newfound panic, your squabble with Peter Parker seemed more than minuscule. Regret was quick to fill that hollowing pit in your gut.
Youâd blacked out a lot of those scarce moments in the elevator. But you remembered when it was safe enough to move, the security guard began to open the hatch at the top of the elevator cart, and one by one help your classmates out.
It wasnât until there were four of you left in the elevator that it finally fell down the shaft towards your demise. There, in that Monument, you would die with Ned, Liz, and your teacher, Mister Harrington, you were sure of it.
Youâd never forget the relief youâd felt at the sight of red and blue rushing toward you, plummeting quicker than you were, and webbing your way to safety.
It felt odd to look back on, knowing now that it was Peter who pulled that elevator up to your safety. How you were only concerned then with apologizing to Peter Parker, who glanced at you there from beneath that mask, completely unbeknownst to you.
Once heâd gotten you up to the top of the Monument, Ned was the first to leap out to safety, then Mister Harrington. The two of them helped Liz get out, and to your luck, just as you took a step forward, the webs above you snapped.
You and SpiderâMan fell with a blood curdling scream breaking through you.
âNO!!â He called after you, and quickly shot a web up to the roof again. His other arm reached out toward you, webbing your wrist rather quickly, keeping you from falling any further.
âItâs okay. Youâre okayâ I got you. You're okay..â He told you, his tone as gentle and soft as you knew it to be; yet, not a single thought crossed your mind that it was Peter Parker.
You shakily dangled beneath him as he tugged you up from that web. You fought to look up at him, to keep yourself from looking down; you fought to keep the tears at bay as the shock flooded from your system.
The second your hands touched, he pulled you up and into him. You wasted no time before wrapping your arms around him, hugging him for dear life. And it made sense, now, why he felt so familiarâwhy his warmth was so comforting, and why his arm around your waist felt like it belonged there.
He held you securely, lulling those reassurances to you, pulling the two of you up to safety at the top of that Monument.
Just before he set you down, you held him tighter. âPeâPeter!â You gasped, and felt every muscle beneath your hold tense.
Now, you knew why.
You pulled back from his arms, âPeter Parker, myâ my best friend! He was on his way over here.â Your voice shook as you explained, but watching him carefully set you on the ground helped to steady yourself a little. âCan you make sureâ Could you make sure that heâs okay?â
Looking back, the reason why SpiderâMan gaped at you so long mustâve been Peter contemplating whether or not to tell you who he was right then and there. He stared at you, beneath that mask, for what felt like minutes.
He gave a singular, upside down, nod. âI can do that, maâam.â And his thick, Bronx, accent threw you off more than you wanted to admit.
Then he fell down the empty shaft of the elevator.
Youâd never forget the moment he found you after that.
You had just gotten out of the Monument. With a shaky hand, you went through your phone to track Peterâs location. It said he was a matter of meters from you, but you couldnât spot him in the crowd.
Just as you went to ask Ned, Peterâs voice hollered out, calling your name.
Both of you turned in his direction, the crowd of people parting for him as he ran over to you, catching you in a boneâcrushing hug. One of his hands cradled your head into his chest, and the other kept itself snug around your waist, just like SpiderâMan had earlier. "I'm so glad you're okay.." He whispered it into your hairline, just for you to keep.
The world washed away in the arms of Peter Parker. You couldnât help but wrap your arms around him, too, hugging him effortlessly closer. Apologies from your argument the night before fell from your lips, and he also followed suit.
You recalled that memory as something that defined how you and Peter operatedâno matter what, you couldnât stay mad at him.
You would always find a way to forgive him.
Now, remembering the incident was a bit more haunting. There was no telling how you and Peter would come back from this, nor just how long youâd go without each other.
And you didn't think SpiderâMan would get you out of it, this time.
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Uranus
Pairing: Peter Parker x Avengers!Reader
Synopsis: you fix Peters science project while heâs out on a date with another girl
Masterlist
You walked by Peterâs room and paused in the doorway. The empty bedroom reminded you of where he was tonight and it send a sick feeling down to your stomach. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air as you looked at all the discarded outfits he had left on his bed.
âIâm not cleaning his stupid room.â You decided and walked away. You were barely halfway down the hallway when you turned and sprinted back to his room to start to put things away. You knew it wasnât your job to take care of him but you simply couldnât stop yourself from tidying up. You assumed heâd be getting back late from where he was and probably wouldnât want to clean up all his clothes just to get into his bed. As you folded a pair of his jeans, you looked up into his vanity mirror and sighed.
âYouâre so pathetic.â You told yourself through a groan.
âStop talking to yourself.â Your reflection replied and pointed at you with a scathing finger. You jumped and looked down to see your finger was pointed as well.
âRight.â You mumbled and left his room.
You then went into the living room and saw Peterâs science project sitting on the couch. He had been building a model of the solar system for weeks now for his astronomy class with a little help from you here and there. All you did was hold pieces together after he glued them but he still insisted that he could not have done it without you. You smiled at the memory of the two of you working on it together and picked it up.
âWhy would he leave it where someone could sit on it?â You sighed and moved it to the bar counter in the kitchen. You left the living room to use the bathroom just as Thor was entering the room. He stepped onto a bar stool with ease and took a seat on the counter to eat the apple he had taken from a lunchbox labeled âSamâs: do not touchâ. He munched his apple for a moment before feeling something digging into his back. He sat up a little and pulled a small ball out from under him that was painted to look like Mercury.
âHm. Thats strange. I donât remember putting that up there.â Thor frowned as he rolled the planet between his fingers. You walked back into the living room and smiled at Thor until you saw what he was holding. Your heart stopped at the same time your feet did and you let out a dramatic gasp that sent you into a coughing fit.
âThor!â You exclaimed. âYou just destroyed Peterâs science project!â
âThese tiny colorful balls were his science project? What was it on? Tiny colorful balls?â Thor asked as he stood up to look at the science project he had completed crushed.
âNo. It was a model of the solar system. And you just crushed it. How did you not feel that when you sat down?â You whined as more parts of the project fell from Thors jeans and back into the counter.
âLady Y/n, you must be mistaken. Iâve seen the solar system with my own eyes. And then I had my eye cut out. And then I had my eye replaced and saw the solar system again. Peters little balls looked nothing like it.â Thor told you, making you roll your eyes up to the ceiling and stamp your feet like a little kid.
âI donât care about your optic history.â You groaned. âPeterâs been working on it for weeks and your giant butt just crushed it in seconds.â
âThank you. I eat a lot of yams to get these yams.â Thor smiled at the presumed compliment and patted his thigh. You watched him for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.
âOkay.â You was all you could stay in your effort to remain calm.
âI donât see what all the petulance is about. If he formed one solar system out of tiny colorful balls, surely he can do it again. All the pieces are right here.â Thor pointed out.
âYes, but that doesnât erase the fact that you ruined the project he spent weeks working on. Heâs gonna be devastated when he sees this. And who taught you the word âpetulanceâ? Have you been watching The Twilight Zone again? I donât know why you do that. It always scares you.â
âNever you mind.â He wagged a finger. âI do feel bad for the boy. Iâll collect the tiny balls since it was my behind that crushed them and then Peter can glue them back together.â
âHe canât. Itâs due tomorrow and right now heâs onâŠI donât know. Heâs just busy and he canât fix it tonight.â You sighed and started to collect the scattered pieces of the project.
âBusy doing what? Youâre here and his small balls were finished. What else could the boy be doing?â Thor wondered. You paused for a moment and felt that sick feeling in your stomach again.
âHeâs on a date.â You said for the first time out loud since Peter told you his plans for the evening. Youâd been quietly stewing all day over it and letting it settle in a massive dark cloud over your head.
âWell Iâm sure the man heâs with will be understanding that he has to come home to fix his balls.â Thor told you.
âStop saying balls!â You scolded. âAnd the date is with a girl, for your information. A very pretty girl from our business class who smells like a vanilla and my broken dreams.â
âIâm sorry to hear that, Lady Y/n. I never knew why but I know that small boy means a lot to you.â Thor said sympathetically and put his hand on your shoulder. You gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his hand.
âSeems like a lot of things are broken tonight.â Thor continued. âYour dreams, Peters balls-â
âSay balls one more time.â You said through clenched teeth.
âOr what? Youâll stab me?â Thor challenged you.
âWhat? No. Jesus Christ. Who hurt you?â You mumbled and pushed his hand off your shoulder.
âMy brother. And then he hurt me again. And then my sister hurt me. And then my brother once more before he died before my eyes. Enough about me, why are your dreams broken?â
âItâs complicated.â You sighed. âCan I tell you something personal?â.
âNo.â Thor replied and left the room without another word. You shrugged in defeat and wondered why you even bothered.
âWell that was a fine howdy do.â You mumbled and finished collecting the pieces. You laid out all the broken bits of Peterâs project on the kitchen counter and folded your arms. It would be a lot of work for Peter and you had no idea what hour heâd be getting back. As much as you hated the idea of him being on a date, you more so hated the thought of him coming home happy and his smile falling when he saw what had become of all his hard work.
âI need to fix these balls.â You whispered to yourself. You grabbed Saturn and one itâs broken rings and started to see how you could glue them back together.
âNo. I canât do this.â You said out loud. âI canât fix every little thing in Peterâs life just to make him happy. Iâm not his girlfriend. Iâm not the one he asked on a date. Iâm just a friend.â
You put the pieces down and folded your arms to keep your hands off it. You knew you should walk away, but you couldnât stop thinking about all the nights you walked past his room and saw him working on the project. Heâd put so much effort into it and now it was in pieces on the counter.
âA girlfriend would spend the next few hours working on a project that has no impact on me just to save Peter the trouble. A good friend would feel bad that his work got destroyed and offer condolences when he got home. And Iâm a good friend. Not a girlfriend. Itâs not my problem. So Iâm walking away.â You decided and left the room. You lasted all of three minutes before you ran back into the room with a tube of crazy glue.
âI gotta fix the balls.â You exclaimed and plopped yourself down at the table. Once you organized all the planets and parts of the solar system, you went to Peterâs room to get the sketched out drawing he had made of the project to use as a blueprint. You silently thanked Peter for being so meticulous and followed his sketch to rebuild his project.
Time went by slowly but your hands cramped up quickly as you worked on the model. It was around the time you glued on Saturns 30th moon, you understood why it took Peter so long to complete the project. All the moons and planets looked the same to you so you had to carefully study his drawings and rely on your memory of when you helped him with the project to guide you as you worked. You had to stop every so often to rub your eyes and roll out your wrists to keep them from getting stiff.
You drifted off into sleep at some point when staring at Jupiters moons became a little too mind numbingly boring. Peter got back from his date about midnight and strolled past you on his way to his room. He backtracked when he realized you were asleep at the table and frowned. His completed science project was beside you, save for one missing moon next to Jupiter. His eyebrows knit together in confusion over the sight so he gently shook you awake.
âHey. You awake?â He asked in a soft tone as he shook your shoulders. You shot up immediately and nearly knocked your head into his.
âIâm not snoring.â You blurted as you pulled the hair that was stuck to your cheek away.
âI know.â He chuckled. âWhat are you doing here? Why is Ganymede stuck to your face?â
âWhy is what?â You asked through a yawn. Peter smiled and pulled the missing moon off your cheek and held it out to show you.
âGanymede. The largest moon in the solar system.â He told you and put it in its correct spot on the model.
âThere is no way you saw a random gray ball stuck to my face and correctly identified it as Gammy meme.â You insisted.
âGanymede.â He corrected. âAnd I only know because I labeled them. See?â
Peter pulled the moon back off to show you a tiny G written on the bottom with the word âJupiterâ in parentheses beside it.
âTheyâre labeled?â You nearly shouted. âWell that wouldâve been helpful four hours ago.â
âFour hours? Thatâs how long youâve been here? What happened?â Peter frowned and took a seat beside you. You gave him a sheepish smile and looked at the model.
âIâm sorry, Peter. Thor sat on your project by accident.â You admitted. âIâve been putting it back together ever since. I think I got most of it the way you had it but I never found Pluto. I honestly think it went up his ass and he just didnât realize.â
âYou spent four hours fixing my project?â He asked with a surprised smile.
âOf course I did. I know how hard you worked on this. I didnât want you to have to start all over.â You told him. He gave you a fond smile and placed his hand on top of yours. Your eyes flicked to your hands and you gulped but said nothing.
âI really appreciate this but you really didnât have to do this. You should have called me. I couldâve come home and fixed it myself.â
âBut I knew you were really excited about tonight. I didnât want to interrupt your date.â You said without looking at him.
âWell that was very selfless of you. And I hate to tell you this after all the work you did, but the date was bad. I wouldâve loved an excuse to leave.â He admitted, making you smile involuntarily.
âIt was bad?â You asked and quickly cleared your throat to cover up your smile.
âWoah. Donât sound too happy.â He snorted.
âWhat?â You asked in a high pitched voice. âIâm not. Why would that make me happy? But please elaborate anyway.â
âIt was bad.â He grimaced. âLike, season 6 of Glee level bad.â
âThat bad?â You gasped. âSo many forgettable characters. So many odd couple choices.â
âThey sang Let it Go. They worked Let it Go from Frozen into the plot and made them sing it.â Peter shook his head.
âThat was not the worst for me. The worst was when Mr. Shue rapped Same Love. They let the straight adult rap a song about being gay when the entire cast of queer young people were right there. And wasnât there a child in the club for some reason? And twins who were lowkey dating?â
âYep. All of that. And yet, my date was still worse.â He shrugged. You looked down at your lap and smiled a little before quickly dropping it.
âIt was that bad, huh?â You asked and tried not to sound too interested.
âSo bad.â He sighed. âShe was a great girl, donât get me wrong. We just had no connection whatsoever. She didnât laugh at any of my jokes and then there were a few times where I thought she was joking so I laughed but she didnât and then we sat in awkward silence.â
âThatâs the worst. I hate awkward silence. I once pretended to forgot the word for âseatbeltâ just to keep a conversation going with an uber driver. I kept calling it a strap on.â
âWait, is that not what a strap on is?â Peter played dumb. âShould we Google it to make sure?â
âShut up.â You rolled your eyes. âKeep going. I want to hear more about this awful date with the girl youâll never see again.â
âThere was just no spark. We realized pretty quickly that we didnât have anything in common. At one point, she asked me if Star Wars was the âmovie with the things you canât feed after midnightâ. So I donât foresee a second date.â
âWow. She had to have a serious lack of knowledge about two major huge pop culture movies to ask that question.â
âI know. I told her yes and she believed me.â Peter replied, making you laugh. He laughed as well over how ridiculous the whole night had been before stopping to look at you. When your laughter died down and you realized he was staring at you, you smiled shyly and looked over at the project to avoid eye contact.
âWell, Iâm sorry it didnât go well.â You told him. âMaybe the next girl will understand you more.â
âYeah. I hope so.â He said in a soft voice and never stopped looking at you.
âYouâll have better luck next time. To be honest, I thought the date was doomed as soon as you told me you were going for sushi. You hate raw fish.â
âBecause Iâm not a seagull.â
âBecause youâre not a seagull, yeah.â You laughed. âI think of that every time I eat sushi. Iâm no better than those damn seagulls.â
âDonât say that. Youâre way better. A seagull would not have done all this for me.â Peter insisted and gestured to the project. You looked over at the solar system you had given too many hours of your life too and smiled as you realized something.
âI had to fix it. I didnât want you to be stressed.â
âBut didnât this stress you out? Designing this thing gave me gray hair and premature menopause.â Peter replied, making you laugh softly.
âA little.â You admitted. âBut I felt better when I remembered why I was doing it.â
âWhy were you doing it?â
âBecause Iâd do anything for you, Peter.â You said simply. You watched his ears turn pink and he turned his head so that you wouldnât see his smile.
âIâd do anything for you too, you know.â He said in a quiet voice.
âCareful.â You warned him. âYou already owe me big time for fixing this unnecessarily detailed solar system. If you tell me youâd do anything for me, youâre really at my mercy.â
âUh oh. Sounds dangerous.â He laughed softly. You shared another moment of eye contact and smiled softly at each other.
âItâs late. We should probably get to bed.â You suggested.
âYouâre right. Thank you again for this.â Peter said and picked up the project. You didnât know if you were sleep deprived or delirious from working on the project all night but you felt compelled to share every secret you had with Peter.
âHonestly, Peter, I was happy to do this stupid science project because it kept me from thinking about you on your date.â You told him as you got up and rubbed your tired eyes.
âReally? Why didnât you want to think about that?â
âBecause whenever I did think about you on your date, I wanted to throw up.â You admitted. âAnd then rip out my hair. And then eat my hair and throw it back up. And then kill my self or something.â
âWell,â Peter said slowly, âI see your urge to rip your hair out and raise you the fact that I only said yes to this date because she wears the same perfume as you. And I needed a night off from staring at the ceiling and thinking about what would happen if I just told you how I felt.â
You stopped mid yawn and gave him a confused look. His eyes were darting everywhere except for your eyes and you could see the rosy glow on his cheeks even in the dim light of the kitchen.
âOh? And how do you feel?â You wondered and crossed your arms. Peter gulped before sitting up straight in his chair.
âI donât know. Why did me being on a date make you so upset?â He challenged you. You narrowed your eyes at him and he looked nervous but didnât back down.
âI asked you first.â You shrugged.
âWell I asked you second.â He replied. âAnd as Aristotle or whoever once said, first is the worst. Second is the best. Third is the one with the hairy chest.â
âEw, what?â You grimaced. âItâs treasure chest. Third is the one with the treasure chest.â
âThat makes no sense. Why would a person in third place, the very last place, be rewarded with a treasure chest? Theyâre the loser so they get a hairy chest. Now thatâs sensical.â
âNo itâs not.â You scoffed. âIt makes even less sense. If I come in third place, does that mean my chest will grow hair? Or does it mean I will be given a torso with a hairy chest? Or, hear me out, does it imply that my chest is already hairy. And thatâs why I came in third.â
âYou did what in third?â Peter mumbled.
âShut up. Can we get back to what we were talking about?â
âYouâre right. We should go to sleep.â Peter said and tried to walk past you. You placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place and he gulped.
âHold up.â You told him. âIâm cashing in that favor you owe me right now. We gotta talk. Sit back down.â
âIâm sat.â Peter said quietly and sat back down in his seat. You pulled your chair up to be across from him and sat down as well.
âIâm going to ask you again and I donât want to hear another single reference to chests or placement.â You prefaced. âHow do you feel?â
Peter scratched the back of his head to spare some time because he knew he was caught. He suddenly got a shy smile on his face suddenly and looked over at his project.
âCan I show you something?â He asked you as he pulled the sun off the center of the project.
âDude.â You sighed. âI just glued that.â
âI know. And Iâll fix it. But look.â He said and turned the sun over. You looked at him in confusion and leaned forward to see what he was talking about. On the bottom of the sun in Peterâs hand writing were your first and last initials.
âMy initials? Why? You smiled in surprise and looked up at him.
âBecause the solar system revolves around the sun.â He explained. âBut my solar system revolves around you.â
You stayed quiet as he put the sun back on the model and took your hand. A look of skepticism stayed on your face as he looked into your eyes.
âI know I do a good job of hiding it. But there is a piece of you in everything I do.â He said. âThere always has been. This was just one of my more obvious ones.â
âWow.â You said after a beat. âI really shouldâve looked at the bottom of these.â
âYeah. You shouldâve.â He laughed and leaned in a little.
âYeah. I shouldâve.â You cracked a smile and leaned in as well. You stared into big brown eyes for a second and decided this was the last night you and Peter were just friends.
âCan I ask you one more thing?â
âIs it about the solar system?â
âNo.â You rolled your eyes. âDid you kiss her tonight?â
âI donât know. Ask me that question again one minute from now.â Peter said as he closed the gap between you and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer since youâd been waiting for this for a while. And it was everything you imagined it would be. When the kiss started to heat up, Peter slipped an arm around you and picked you up with ease. He hastily placed you down on the counter and you jumped apart when you heard a crunching sound.
You pulled out of the kiss and looked down to see that Peter had placed you directly on top of the science project that you had just spent hours fixing. You both stared at the scattered pieces in stunned silence for a moment before he gave you a sheepish smile. You didnât smile back and instead stared daggers at him while trying to explode his head using your mind.
âI can fix it?â He said through a nervous laugh. You held your hands up in defeat and hopped off the counter without a word.
âWhat? Thatâs how this night ends? Come on.â Peter whined and followed you as you left the room and continued your silent treatment towards him.
âYouâre seriously going to walk away after that? We had something going there. Donât go now.â He whined some more and trotted after you like a puppy.
âGo get something going with the planets I spent the last four hours glueing back together.â You grumbled and held up your middle finger for him to see as he trailed after you.
âCome on.â He half laughed, half groaned. âYou canât send me to bed after a kiss like that. We need to at least talk about it. Letâs go back andâŠâ Peter trailed off when you passed his bedroom and he caught a glimpse of his clean floor.
âWait, did you clean my room too?â He asked, knowing he had left it a mess before he left for the date. You froze in your tracks for a moment but decided to keep the upper hand instead of admitting to Peter that you were so down bad that you had in fact cleaned his room.
âI donât know. I donât have all the answers, Peter. Goodnight.â You said and slammed your door in his face. He barely had time to react before you opened your door back up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
âGet your ass in here, loser.â
âDonât you mean get your anus in here? Because it sounds like Uranus?â He said with a proud smile. You stared him dead in the eyes and didnât crack even a hint of smile.
âDo you want to come in here or not?â
âI already unzipped my pants, yeah.â He admitted as he dashed through your bedroom door.
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#peter parker x reader#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker jealous#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker x avengers!reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fluff#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x y/n
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Hi can I ask for a blurb where Peter accidently hits the reader while playing or something like he sometimes forgets about his super strength but fluff at the end please đ„ș.
this got away from me but this was so fun and cute to write!
âI kinda want a black eye.â
Your boyfriend slowly lowered the bag of peas on his left eye, his elbow dropped daringly, forcing you to look at the dark purple hue.
âOh, really?â
You nod, âit looks gnarly but itâd be cool to have one.â
âBaby, my heartbeat is currently taking place from my eyeball. You donât want one.â
Stretching across the space on the couch you raise Peterâs hand back up so he can ice the bruise some more, it does look painful.
âI think if you loved me youâd give me one.â
Peter took a second to see if that sentence would resonate with you but it hadnât.
âWe should go to the women's shelter and spread that knowledge.â
You scoff, âthey weren't asking for it, Peter. I am.â
Your boyfriend lowered his temporary ice pack and reached a hand out, his thumb rubbed under your eye, you almost thought he was thinking about it. Almost.
âIâd never. I would, however, patch you up if you ever got one.â
âDo you have a friend that could-â
âNo.â
â------------------------------------
Oh FUCK did your eye HURT.
It was on a level ten throb level, it felt like a ring stretching to your eyebrow and nose. You couldnât even open it, all you could do was press your hand to it and try and stop the pressure from building, it didnât work.
You were able to blink it open just enough to be blinded by the living room light, youâve never been so light sensitive. Squeezing it shut you winced, you tried to be understanding and calm; it was an accident after all. But the pain was spreading all over your face and you had a target right on the corner of your right eye, and it hurt.
If your right eye could open itâd be shedding tears too, you had one continuance stream coming from your left eye.
Your voice bubbles with pain, âpetey, it hurts.â
Your boyfriend couldnât even breathe right now, he had hurt you. The one thing he swore he would never, could never do, and he did it. Panic flooded his body, panicked heâs caused serious damage, panicked youâd be scared of him, panicked youâd dump him, panicked your dad would come curbstomp him.
âIt hurts so bad,â he knows youâre calling out for him, he knows you need him, but all he could replay was the âwhack!â in his head. It wasnât gentle in the slightest, you whipped away from him with a hiss, your hand immediately covering your eye. You had been okay at first but after a minute had passed it became nearly unbearable.
Peter knows how bad a black eye hurts, and he just gave you one.
His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.
And suddenly Peter couldnât see because his vision was muddled by tears, he tried to blink them back but they ran. He canât remember the last time heâs cried, but this brought him to his knees. He never wanted to punish himself more than in that second. He shouldâve been quicker, he shouldâve known you were behind him, he has those goddamn senses and they did nothing in that moment.
âPeter!â A desperate cry for attention, you donât know what to do, it hurts more than you could imagine.
You look up at your boyfriend still standing in shock where he jumped away from you after hitting you directly in your eye. A wrestling battle, you had tried to take him down after heâd pinned you three times. In an effort of a sneak attack you crawled up the couch and tried to jump on his back where he sat on the floor. You dived and at the last moment his hand⊠well you donât know what he was trying to do but it connected hard to your cheekbone.
Your back hit the couch and you held your hand as you hissed and groaned in hurt, Peter scrambled up and backed up behind the coffee table, as if he was scared to be around you.
Heâs crying, your boyfriendâs crying. Youâve been punched and heâs crying.
âIâm.. Iâm sorr.. Fuck.â Peter snaps out of it, you need him. He crosses to the couch in two steps, his hand cupping your cheek. It makes everything in him deflate when you flinch as he touches you, he bites his bottom lip to stop a sob. âBaby, Iâm so sorry. Iâm so, so sorry.â
His heart hurts as you cry, his thumb taps at your hand covering the damaged eye. The one he caused.
âLet me see it, please?â Peter said it like a question, like heâd ever be lucky enough to have that privilege.
You sob, âit hurts.â
Peter blinks, more tears. He canât believe heâs crying over this, he also canât believe he hit his fucking girlfriend.
âI know, I know it does, baby. Please let me see it.â
You choke in air to stop your crying, it works. You slowly lift your hand off your eye, itâs not throbbing as much but the pressure has inflated tenfold and you couldnât open it if you tried, it was swollen shut. You tried to gauge a reaction out of him, to see how bad it is. You forgot your boyfriend had the worldâs best poker face.
Peter wanted to curl up into a ball when he saw the damage.
It was bruising, and swollen and you couldnât open your eye and it was all his fault.
His fault, his fault, his fault.
If he was normal, if he was a normal boyfriend, this wouldnât have happened. A normal teenager doesnât have the strength to hold a ferry or stop a runaway bus, he does. And he used that strength on you.
His powers, his abilities, his strength.
His fault, his fault, his fault.
âYou need ice.â Is all that could come out. A wince wraps over your face when you nod, you try to sit up and groan. âEverything hurts. How do you do this? Pain has to affect you differently, right?â Peter ignored you as he backed away, you donât think heâs ever been so aware of his surroundings and actions.
He shouldnât be getting ice, he shouldnât be putting it in a plastic bag and wrapping a rag around it, he shouldnât be grabbing you tylenol extra strength, he shouldnât be icing your black eye he caused.
His fault, his fault, his fault.
It scared you how quiet he was, the accidental punch was just that. You werenât upset at him or scared he would do it again, you were scared how odd he was acting. He was strangely quiet and standoffish, when he came back to you with ice and pills you watched him think about holding the bag to your eye but stopped and put it in your hand.
He shifted his weight and looked at the couch, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table.
Peter cried and was quiet and standoffish and scared to touch you. He was terrified of himself, you may be physically hurt but he was emotionally broken, his one major thing washed down the drain. Accident or not he gave you a black eye, and it was tearing him up inside.
You hummed when ice hit the hot skin, suddenly it didnât hurt.
âAm I right, super high pain tolerance?â
Itâs like you broke through a wall, Peter looked up at you like he just found out you were in the room.
âI hit you.â
You wouldâve rolled your eyes if you couldâve.
âThatâs a little dramatic.â
Peter shook his head, upset you werenât upset.
âI hit you hard, I hurt you. IâŠâ His hand pulled at his curls so hard you grit your teeth. âI fucking hit you,â he whispered it, like his own mind couldnât wrap it around.
He doesnât pull out the fuck word often.
You thought about reaching out for his hand, but you think thatâd made things worse.
âIâm not scared of you, petey. It was an accident.â
âI swore iâd never hurt you, that I would never hit you and I didnât-â
âMean it.â You cut him off, âyou didnât mean it.â
Peter rubbed at his jaw and blinked, you saw tears puddling and you wanted to do nothing more than hold him. He couldnât stop thinking about it, you lowered the bag of ice from your eye prepared to switch seats. He wouldnât let you.
âIce.â Cold and hard, like you had no other option. You didnât question him, you followed instructions.
âRemember when you asked me to give you a black eye months ago?â
It was a joke. Sure, you saw a tiktok with a girl who had one and you couldnât deny it looked a little cool. Then seeing one on Peter the same night you couldnât shake it. You were just playing around, itâs not like it was that serious.
âI was joki-â
âI told you I'd never, and I did. I hit my girlfriend and gave her a black eye.â
Disgust. Thatâs what it was. He was disgusted with himself.
You sat up straight, your lip curled up.
A black eye? Sick.
âWait, really?â
Peter looked up at your excitement, it came from nowhere.
âYou gave me a black eye? I have a black eye right now? For real, for real?â
This wasnât a cute or funny thing, and he wonât let you make it be one.
He hit you.
âThis isnât funny, I hit you and youâre happy you got a black eye?â
âPete, I forgive you. And not just cause you gave me a black eye, because it was an accident and you didnât mean to and youâre obviously extremely remorseful.â
âBut I-â
You reached out for his hand, âforgive yourself. You forgive yourself.â
It wouldnât be instant, until your eye healed, which would be at a much slower rate than him, he wouldnât be able to fully forgive himself.
âNo more wrestling.â
You scoff, âno more sneak attacks, how about that?â
He shook his head, âI donât want this happening again.â
âIf the situation was reversed would you want me to hold it against myself?â
Peter scoffed, âabsolutely not, but it wouldnât hurt me like it does you.â
âSo you do have a super high pain tolerance.â
He snapped and ripped his hand from yours, âyes, I do have a super high pain tolerance. I also have super strength and give my girlfriend black eyes.â
You held your hand up, the other one slightly freezing from the cold but you were too scared to take it off.
âFirst off, plural. Second, please stop. Youâre making me feel bad, Iâm really okay and Iâm not mad and I forgive you a thousand million percent.â
Peter inhaled sharply, he has to believe you. Heâs more shook up than you are and he guesses he should agree with you, you were the hurt one. If you forgive him he could try and do the same.
âI think you need to give me a black eye to even it out.â
You gasp like your offended at his words, your hand lays over your heart.
âIâd never!â
Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you a dead stare, his hands pushed him off the coffee table. His words grumbled, âtoxic.â
#peter parker x reader#tasm! peter parker x reader#peter parker blurb#peter parker angst#tasm!peter x reader#peter parker fluff#my writing
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đœđđ đ¶đ đŒđ» đșđ đ°đźđżđ± - đœđČđđČđż đœđźđżđžđČđż
đđđșđșđźđżđ: peter and you argue because he loves to spend all of his money on you.
đ/đ°: 0.5k
đź/đ»: sorry for disappearing for a few months⊠again đ i am slowly getting back into writing so please bear with me! i saw my last fic reached over 9000 notes so that really motivated me to write something else for you guys ⥠iâm not so sure how i feel about this but i really do see peter as the type of boyfriend to blow all of his paycheck on you so i just had to write this LOL anyways i hope you all enjoy this!!
âput it on my cardâ you suddenly hear peter say as he pulled your earphones out, causing you to jump.
you were trying to keep yourself awake while waiting for peter to come through your window after patrolling for the night. to keep yourself occupied, you decided to listen to music and do some online shopping (which consisted of you just putting things in your cart but never actually buying anything). with your back facing your window and your earphones in, you didnât see or hear peter come inside.
âjesus christ peter, donât sneak up on me like that!â
âyeah yeah whateverâ he says not really caring that he nearly scared the life out of you. âas i was saying before you rudely snapped at me, put your order on my cardâ
âi literally have over $400 worth of clothes in my cartâ
âand?â
âwhat do you mean and? thatâs expensiveâ
âyour point?â
âthatâs more than half of your paycheckâ
âdoesnât matter. the whole reason why i have a job is to spoil youâ he says while taking off his suit and getting comfortable in your bed.
âaww pete, youâre too sweet. but still, no. i donât want you spending that much money on meâ
he hummed an okay which led you to believe he was gonna just drop the conversation.
you were so wrong.
before you know it, heâs shooting a web at your laptop and dragging it over to him.
âNOOOO!â you scream dramatically and tackle him on your bed before he can type in his card information.
âLET ME BUY YOU CLOTHES!â he screams back while trying to push you off of him so he can grab your laptop again.
you quickly snatched your laptop from the bed and ran out of your room as fast as you could.
âGET BACK HERE!â peter shouted while chasing after you to which you just ignored and kept running away.
âyou know what, you leave me no choiceâ he abruptly stops chasing you which causes you to stop in confusion.
suddenly, he jumped and stuck to your roof with his webs, and webbed your laptop over to him. you literally had no way of getting to him now.
âthatâs no fair, youâre cheating!â you whined.
he laughed at you standing helplessly below him and finally placed your $450 order on his card.
âhere you goâ he smiled and jumped down from the roof, handing your laptop back over to you.
before you were about to scold him for spending so much money on you, you heard a knock at your door.
you and peter both looked at each other confused because you werenât expecting anybody for the night. he walked to the door and opened, revealing the people you were least expecting.
the police.
âhello, we were called over here for a noise complaint. your neighbors reported screaming being heard from your apartment room and they were concerned. is everything alright?â
you did not expect to end your night by explaining to the police that you and your boyfriend were screaming over buying clothes.
#peter parker x reader#peter parker blurbs#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker smut#tom holland x reader#tom holland#tom holland fluff#peter parker#tom holland angst#peter parker imagine#peter parker fic#spiderman x reader#spiderman fluff#spiderman angst#spiderman smut#spiderman#marvel#spiderman blurbs#tom holland smut
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A World Without You

(Picture taken from Pinterest)
Pairing - Peter Parker x Female Reader
Genre - Angst
Summary: When Peter Parker wakes up in a world where Y/N never existed, he thinks he's been given the gift of freedomâno one to put in danger. But as the emptiness of her absence consumes him, Peter begins to question the cost of his choice. How far will he go to bring Y/N back, and whoâor whatâwas behind her disappearance in the first place? Can Peter undo the deal he made, or is he trapped in a world where love never existed?
Glimpse - He thought back to their last conversation, where Y/N had called him a "Nerd" for winning at chess everytime, to which heâd fired back, calling them "a hopeless case with zero taste in music."
Warnings: This story contains heavy angst and emotional distress, exploring themes of loneliness, guilt, and the consequences of difficult choices. It also includes elements of reality distortion and manipulation, which may be unsettling for some readers. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to intense emotional scenarios.
***
Peter Parker woke up with a start. His heart pounded in his chest, the remnants of a nightmare clinging to his mind like a fading mist. His body ached in places he didnât know could hurt. The city skyline blinked outside his window as it always did, but something about the silence feltâŠoff. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the strange unease gnawing at his gut. It wasnât unusual for Peter to wake up in a cold sweat after a brutal night of web-swinging, but this time was different. The feeling lingered like a whisper he couldnât quite hear.
He groaned, rolling out of bed and pulling on a T-shirt. Maybe some breakfast would help clear his head. He padded barefoot into the kitchen, expecting to hear the familiar hum of Y/Nâs terrible music playing in the background as they whipped up something quick before heading out. But the apartment was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
âBabe?â he called, only half-expecting a response. Silence. Peter frowned. It wasnât like Y/N to leave without saying goodbye, even when they had early shifts. Maybe sheâs at work already.
But the more Peter looked around, the more he realised something was wrong. The photos on the fridgeâthe ones of him and Y/N from their last disastrous attempt at a beach dayâwere gone. He checked the living room; no sign of Y/Nâs jacket, their shoes, or the usual clutter that always accumulated near the door. Where the hell are they?
The sinking feeling in Peterâs chest deepened as he began to search the apartment. Their stuff was gone. All of it.
Peterâs mind raced. Has Y/N left him? No, that didnât make sense. Things had been good between them. They always were, even when they fought. And their playful insults were never serious, just the way they communicated. He thought back to their last conversation, where Y/N had called him a "Nerd" for winning at chess everytime, to which heâd fired back, calling them "a hopeless case with zero taste in music."
But there was love in every jab, every joke. He knew Y/N didnât mean any of it, and he didnât either. It was their love languageâtwisting insults into affection in the way only they could. He could still hear their laugh in his mind, could still feel the way Y/N would poke him in the ribs after a particularly savage comeback.
But now, that warmth is gone. All of it.
Peterâs head was spinning. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialled Y/Nâs number. The line rang once, twice, and then, âThe number youâve dialled is not in service.â
Not in service?
Peterâs stomach flipped. He called again, and the same automated voice greeted him. Panic rose in his throat. He rushed outside and knocked on the neighbourâs door.
âHey, Mrs. Martinez, have you seen Y/N today? Sheââ Peter began, but Mrs. Martinez gave him a confused look.
âY/N? Whoâs Y/N?â she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Peterâs heart skipped a beat. âYou knowâŠmyâmy girlfriend? The person I live with?â he stammered, his voice unsteady. Mrs. Martinezâs frown deepened.
âIâve lived here for twenty years, Peter. Iâve never seen you with anyone. You live alone.â
Peterâs world tilted. What?
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He tried to laugh it off, but the horror was sinking in. âYouâveâof course youâve seen them, Mrs. Martinez. She is always aroundâŠâ
But the older woman shook her head sympathetically, patting him on the shoulder. âYouâve had a tough week, sweetheart. Maybe you need to take it easy.â She retreated back into her apartment, leaving Peter standing there, frozen.
He sprinted back to his place, his thoughts racing. What the hell is going on?
He fumbled for his laptop, searching through his social media, his phone photos, anythingâanythingâthat could prove Y/N existed. But there was nothing. Not a single picture, no text messages, no memories captured on his phone. It was like they had been erased.
Peterâs chest heaved with panic. This canât be real.
But it was.
As the day dragged on, the nightmare didnât end. It only got worse. No oneâno oneâremembered Y/N. Their friends, their coworkers, even Aunt May looked confused when Peter mentioned their name.
Peter slumped onto the couch, staring blankly at the wall. How is this happening? He gripped his head with both hands, feeling the weight of Y/Nâs absence like a suffocating blanket. He didnât know if it was magic, science, or something worse.
But the silence? The emptiness?
It was unbearable.
At first, he had thought maybeâjust maybeâthis was for the best. Y/N was safe, right? Without him in their life, without Spider-Man lurking in the background, they wouldnât be in danger. They wouldnât have to deal with late-night patch-ups, watching him stumble in bruised and bloodied, hearing him apologise over and over for missing dinner or forgetting plans because someone needed saving.
But this wasnât peace. This was torment.
Peter thought back to the moments theyâd shared, the playful insults and sarcastic remarks that only drew them closer. He remembered Y/Nâs smile when they called him a "complete idiot" after he bungled a dinner reservation. Or the time he jokingly told them to "Haww!! You are only with me for that ass" when she tried to help him fix his suit and squeezed his ass in teasinf way. The way Y/N had thrown a pillow at his head, laughing the whole time.
He missed it. All of it. The teasing, the arguments, the late-night takeout dinners where theyâd bicker about who had worse taste in movies.
And nowâŠhe had nothing.
Peter couldnât stay here. Not in this reality.
The thought gnawed at himâhow had he ended up here? He hadnât done anything out of the ordinary. Sure, heâd been toying with new tech from Oscorp, but nothing experimental. Nothing that should have thrown him into some alternate dimension. Then, in a flash, a memory surfaced.
The last night he spent with Y/N before everything changed. A strange figure had appearedâsomeone with no face, no form, just a voice. A voice that had whispered to him about choices, about the dangers of loving someone so deeply while being Spider-Man. At the time, Peter had brushed it off, thinking it was just the stress talking, some weird fever dream. But what ifâŠ?
What if that figure had done this? Created a world where Y/N never existed?
Peter had to find answers. He had to get Y/N back. He couldnât stay in a place where every corner, every sound reminded him of what heâd lost. The weight of their absence crushed him more each second.
As he sat there, planning his next move, Peter realised something chilling. The figureâwhoever they wereâhad offered him a choice that night. A chance to live without burdening the people he loved with Spider-Manâs dangers. And in a moment of weakness, of exhaustion, maybe Peter had unknowingly made that deal.
But he hadnât meant it.
Peter Parker was no stranger to guilt. Heâd lived with it every day since Uncle Ben died. But this? This was different. This was the pain of choosing to save someone by erasing them entirely.
He couldnât undo what had happened on his own. He needed to find the entity who had done this and force them to undo it. But first, he had to survive in a world that was a constant reminder of what heâd lost.
And that meant holding onto the memories of Y/N. The real memories.
He could hear Y/Nâs voice in his head now: âPeter, you absolute dumbass, you know you canât live without me, right?â He could imagine the smirk that came with it, the light in their eyes when they teased him.
âYeah, well,â Peter muttered to the empty room, his voice cracking. âTurns out youâre right.â
Peter sat in the deafening silence of his apartment, his mind running in a thousand directions. Y/N was gone. No one remembered her, as if she'd never existed. And the only explanation he could cling to was that entityâthat faceless, shadowy figure from the night before everything changed. A vague memory whispered at the back of his mind, telling him that heâd been offered a choice. But how could he have agreed to something so horrifying?
The truth, as much as it made him sick, was simple: Peter had been desperate. Heâd been exhausted, weighed down by guilt and fear, always worrying about Y/Nâs safety. Every time she patched him up after a fight, every time she stayed up late waiting for him to come home, Peter felt that gnawing fear that one day, she wouldnât be there anymore. And for one brief, weak moment, the thought of her being safeâbeing away from Spider-Manâs worldâhad seemed like a blessing.
But he hadnât realized the cost. Not like this. Not the emptiness.
Peter shot out of his chair, pacing the apartment as a plan started to form in his mind. He had to find the entity. That much was clear. This wasnât just some glitch in reality; this was a deliberate choiceâa deal made between him and something far more powerful. But if Peter had the power to get himself into this mess, then he had to have the power to get out.
First, he needed answers. How did he find the entity again?
Peter remembered that it hadnât come from nowhere. The figure had appeared while he was messing around with Oscorpâs tech, but it wasnât just any tech. It had been an experimental quantum destabilizerâa device meant to measure energy fluctuations between different dimensions. Harry Osborn had been talking about it for weeks, trying to figure out if they could tap into the multiverse for...who knows what. Science had never been Peter's strong suit, but he had a hunch that the entity had slipped through during one of those experiments.
Multiverse. The word hit him like a truck.
Was this even his universe anymore? Or was he trapped in another reality where Y/N had never existed?
Peterâs heart raced at the possibility. If Y/N was truly goneânot just from his life but from all universesâhe might never get her back. But if she still existed somewhere, in some timeline, then Peter would burn through every dimension until he found her.
He knew the first place to start: Oscorp.
Later that night, after slipping into his Spider-Man suit, Peter swung across the city towards Oscorp Tower. It was late, the cityâs streets quieter than usual, but Peterâs mind was anything but calm. He landed on the roof and quickly made his way inside, avoiding security cameras with the ease of someone who had done it countless times before.
The lab was exactly how he remembered itârows of cold, gleaming equipment, the soft hum of high-tech machinery filling the air. But Peter wasnât interested in the usual tools. He needed the quantum destabilizer.
Peter found it stashed away in a corner, covered in dust. He hooked it up to the main computer and started running a search for energy signatures. If that entity had come from another universe, there had to be some kind of residual trace left behind.
As the machine hummed to life, Peterâs thoughts drifted back to Y/N. Why had he said yes to losing her? In that moment, when the entity had whispered in his ear, offering him peace, safety, an escape from the constant fear of Y/N being hurt...he had caved. Heâd thought it was a way to protect her.
But now he realized how wrong heâd been. Protecting Y/N wasnât about keeping her awayâit was about fighting alongside her, loving her despite the risks. Peter had always known that deep down, but fear had clouded his judgment. Heâd chosen what he thought was the easy way out, but now he would do anythingâanythingâto undo it.
The machine beeped, jolting him from his thoughts. The screen flickered, showing a faint, pulsing signature. Peterâs heart raced as he recognized the same strange energy from that night. It wasnât from his universe. The entity had come from somewhere else.
He plugged in the coordinates, knowing that if he followed the trail, it would lead him to the sourceâto the entity.
The next night, Peter swung through a dim, fog-covered alley deep in the city. The air felt thick, heavy with something unnatural. He could sense itâthe same strange energy signature he'd tracked.
And then, like stepping through a veil, the air around him shimmered, and the entity appeared. A swirling mass of shadow, faceless and formless, its voice an eerie whisper that seemed to echo inside Peterâs head.
âYou seek to undo what you asked for, Spider-Man?â
Peterâs jaw clenched. âYou tricked me. I didnât know what I was agreeing to.â
The entityâs voice hissed, low and mocking. âI offered you peace. I offered you freedom. You accepted.â
âI didnât want this!â Peter shouted, his fists trembling. âI didnât want to lose her! Iââ His voice broke. âI love her.â
âLove is weakness,â the entity whispered. âIt makes you vulnerable. It clouds your judgment. I gave you a world free from that burden.â
âLove makes me strong,â Peter said, his voice filled with determination. âI donât want a world where Y/N doesnât exist. I want her with me, in all her imperfect, wonderful chaos. And Iâm going to fight you until you bring her back.â
The entity laughedâa sound that rattled the very air around him. âYou think you can fight me, Spider-Man? I am beyond your comprehension. I am the architect of realities. I gave you a gift.â
Peterâs eyes hardened beneath the mask. âThen Iâll take it back.â
Without another word, Peter launched himself at the entity, his fists glowing with the energy from the quantum destabilizer. But the entity was fast, shifting and slipping through his grasp like smoke. Every time Peter thought he had it cornered, it would reform behind him, taunting him with whispers.
âYou will fail,â it hissed. âI am all-powerful. You are nothing but a boy pretending to be a hero.â
Peter gritted his teeth, focusing on the entityâs movements. It might be powerful, but it had a weaknessâevery entity did. He just had to find it. And then, as the entity shifted again, Peter saw itâa flicker in its form, a moment where it hesitated.
That hesitation was all he needed.
Peter leaped into the air, firing a blast from the destabilizer at the exact moment the entity began to reform. The energy crackled, surging through the entityâs form. It screamed, its voice splitting the air like thunder. Peter didnât let up, pouring everything he had into the attack. He thought of Y/Nâs laugh, her smile, the way she called him out on his worst habits, the way she never let him get away with anything. All the moments they shared.
And then, with a final surge of energy, the entity shattered. The air around Peter shifted, reality bending and warping.
Peter collapsed to the ground, panting. For a moment, everything was still.
When he opened his eyes, Peter was lying on his apartment floor, the sunlight streaming through the window. His heart pounded in his chest. Was it real? Did he actually get her back?
âPeter? Why are you on the floor, you weirdo?â
His heart stopped. That voiceâit was Y/N. He turned his head slowly, and there she was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee and looking at him with a raised eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.
âY/NâŠâ His voice cracked as he scrambled to his feet, pulling her into his arms.
âWhoa, whoa!â Y/N laughed, clearly surprised. âWhatâs gotten into you? You look like youâve seen a ghost.â
âI thought I lost you,â Peter whispered into her hair, holding her tight as if she might disappear again.
Y/N snorted, pulling back to look him in the eye. âLost me? Please, Parker. Youâre stuck with me, whether you like it or not. Now, stop being a dramatic idiot and help me make breakfast,â
Peter laughed, a tear slipping down his cheek as he smiled at her. âYou can call me useless all you want.â
Y/N gave him a puzzled look. âWhatâs gotten into you?â
Peter just shook his head, kissing her forehead. âI love you.â
She raised an eyebrow. âOkay, now Iâm worried.Is something wrong, babe?â
He laughed again. âNah. JustâŠnever leave, okay?â
Y/N smiled, her usual sarcastic grin lighting up her face. âI wasnât planning on it. But you know, I could leave if you keep talking like a sappy idiot.â
âShut up,â Peter muttered, pulling her closer. âIâm serious.â
âFine, fine, Iâll stay,â Y/N teased, poking his chest. âBut only because youâre the dumbest, nerdiest superhero Iâve ever met.â
Peter chuckled, finally feeling whole again. He had Y/N back. Heâd fought for her, and now, he wasnât letting go.
He never would.
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