#peter parker hiding injury masterlist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starvulture · 2 years ago

Text

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (4)

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: action scene, nongraphic injury

Word Count: roughly 3k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The first time you had held Miguel was in his lab. It was the earlier days, the grief still raw, the man still shell-shocked. You were brand new to the multiverse, to Earth-928.

You had found him watching videos of his daughter.

“Miguel?”

You’d never seen him close windows on his platform display so fast, before or since then. You waited for him to say something, anything, but all you saw was the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll leave these here, we just thought you'd like to have some food…” you said, glancing up at him while you placed the takeout box on a level surface.

“Thank you.”

The ghost of a wobble in his voice made you pause, look closer at him. A thwip and a swing, and you were suddenly on the platform with him. He turned to look at you, the vague surprise on his face doing little to hide the shine of his eyes.

And then you hugged him, your arms around his waist and your head against his chest as you squeezed him tight. He clearly didn't know what to do, his own arms floated awkwardly in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m returning the favor,” you mumbled. “From when we met.”

His body seemed to relax at that, just slightly, and his hands came to rest lightly on your back.

“...Thank you.”

You wake twenty minutes before your alarm feeling ill-rested and ill at ease, your dream fading rapidly from your mind. Turning your head to look at where your phone is charging on the edge of the mattress (“You really shouldn’t sleep with that thing in your bed,” you hear Miguel say in the back of your mind), you stare at it as if it will miraculously fix your previous night’s sleep, or suddenly announce that you actually have hours left to return to dreamland.

No such luck.

So you drag yourself out of bed, feeling much like a cursed skeleton climbing from a blackened pit, and reluctantly start your day.

When you head out you leave a sleeping Gwen in the apartment, your dimension-hopping watch in your inner coat pocket beside your mask in case she needs to contact you. You don’t have time to get a burner phone for her this morning, but you put it on your mental to-do list.

Like many Spider-People, your day job is in journalism. You’ve lost track of how many Peter Parkers work in photo -journalism, and how many at the Daily Bugle specifically. You’re no stranger to J. Jonah Jameson and his anti-Spider-Person vendetta, being the target of it here in your own dimension, but you couldn't imagine working for him too. No, your main job is writing for the features section of an entirely different paper, often assigned to human interest pieces, community events, and independent art exhibits. This only pays about half the bills, freelance barely covering the rest, but the hours are flexible and your journalism pass has come in handy enough times during Spider-sleuthing that you wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, besides more pay. Obviously. So… yeah, actually, maybe one thing.

But your heart’s barely in it today. While your body sits in the paper’s office floor, waiting to talk with the editor in chief about your latest piece, your head is–

“You okay today? You look about a million miles away,” one of your colleagues seems to materialize before you, her long pin-straight blonde hair tucked behind one ear.

You give an apologetic smile. Even under the terrible fluorescence of the office lights she manages to look like an ethereal elven being.

So not fair.

“Sorry, late night,” you chuckle weakly. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m guessing from the way you say that, it wasn’t for any fun reason,” she attempts to joke, and you chuckle.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Just uh, one of those nights.”

She glances at the door behind you. “Good luck with Ellison. Ben’s got him in a real mood today, I hear.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

She smiles, turning to head to the door. “See ya later then.”

You return the smile. “Bye, Karen.”

She’s passing through the office door when the editor’s office opens and a balding, bearded man pokes his head out, fixing you under his bespectacled stare.

“ Please tell me you have good things to tell me today.”

“Mitchell,” you greet, rising from the plastic chair to follow him into his office. “Have I ever let you down?”

“Only about five times in recent memory,” he says, motioning for you to close the door as he turns the corner around to the back of his desk, sitting down.

“Fair,” you acknowledge. “But then did I not totally make up for those?”

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly. “Okay, fine.�� He gestures at you. “Out with it.”

“I need an extension.”

He sighs, going to take off his glasses–

“I’m kidding,” you quickly say. And then, “Sorry,” when he glares at you from under his crunched together eyebrows. “I actually finished early, it should be in your inbox, and,” you fish out a thin stack of paper collected in a binder clip, holding them towards him in offering. “I brought you a hard copy for your notes. I know the printer here is on the fritz.”

He raises his eyebrows, reaching across the table to accept the papers. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you say. “Because I'm going to assume you can't pay me for it yet, so I won't even ask. Can I have my next story?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to finish so soon,” he says, plopping the papers down on his desk. “I won’t have more for you for at least a week, since you refuse to cover the Spider.”

“Conflict of interest,” you immediately recite, punching your hands into your coat pockets.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off. “Take the week, use it to catch up on your freelance work, see if there’s anything you wanna pitch to me.”

You nod, the two of you say your farewells, and you exit the office.

Back on the street, a light wind nips at your nose and ears. There’s no aggression behind it, the nips as harmless as a teething puppy, but the chill is there nonetheless. Once again you punch your hands into your pockets to spare your fingers the gummy mouthing of the wind, letting it chase you down the sidewalk and dance around your heels.

With nothing but time to kill, you scan through your mental list of tasks and errands—

Ah. A phone for Gwen.

The simple errand was going very, very wrong.

First, on the way there, you had gotten swept into a car chase as The Spider, at one point narrowly dodging a bullet with your name on it. The unnamed woman from the last night Miguel had stayed over flashed through your mind when it blew past you, throwing you off and earning you a road rash on your hands, knee, and one forearm that you’d be feeling for the next few days, at least. God, you wish you had a better healing factor.

Second, the first phone-related store you happened upon was one of those places with windows pasted with advertisements, the glass behind bars, and the entire storefront covered in bright glittery and flashing signage. Most prominent was the ‘ WE BUY GOLD!!!’ sign dancing with all the enthusiasm of a Las Vegas showgirl.

It was also being robbed. Which wasn’t a problem for you of course, it was just that you were starting to feel pretty damn drained already and it wasn’t even noon.

After some acrobatics that would impress even Gwen, you succeeded in webbing up the four men involved with the overzealous attempted robbery, leaving them hanging from the lampost outside to be picked up before buying a prepaid flip phone with cash.

But no, that wasn’t all that went wrong. You believed yourself to be in the clear, stopping to get a sandwich once back in your civilian clothes, and now you sat on a bench in the square watching manicured bushes rustle in the midday breeze.

“Mm,” you hum, swallowing your first bite of your sandwich, and going for another.

And then, the third thing goes wrong. A portal opens up and spits out a rather tall man, covered head to toe in glowing and moving circuit-board patterns under his hat and trenchcoat. The air buzzes with static even from where you sit nearly twenty feet away, your internal alarm blaring like a bad horror movie.

His head turns with a sudden, jerking motion, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

His body turns to face you, moving as jerky as his head had. You barely have time to jump up and run, abandoning your sandwich, before his arm lifts and he fires a goddamn laser ball at you.

“Shit, shit!”

You scatter with the other handful of people who had been in the square, searching frantically for somewhere to pull on your mask and safely ditch your things. It takes a moment, but you manage it, and when you emerge from the tiny alley to slingshot yourself back to the square, the anomaly is walking straight for you, movements jerky and mechanical.

“Ohhh, this isn’t good,” you lift your watch to your masked face as you land on a grassy patch. “I need backup! Anomaly on Earth-”

You don’t manage to get your dimension number out as you speak into your watch, because a second laser blast is heading straight for you. Your internal alarm bell screeches at you just in time for you to dodge and for it to fly through empty air where your rib cage had been moments before.

You land in a roll, scraping your road-rash all over again, standing as the park tree behind where you had stood moments shatters and topples, branches bouncing and rustling against themselves in a way that sounds quite a lot like the blood rushing through your ears.

You shoot a web at the electric man, but his cannon arm— Holy shit, his whole arm? —tears through it like, well, a cobweb.

“Electro!” You shout, taking a wild guess as to his identity. You don’t have an Electro on your earth, but you’ve heard enough and seen enough waiting to be sent home, so you connect the dots. “We don’t need to do this! I can hel-”

“Not. Elec. Tro.” He speaks, voice choppy like his movements, distorted and filtered. “Ven. Ture.”

Dots un- connected.

“Wha-? Who?”

He raises his cannon arm at you once more. You start to run, looking for something with height.

No such luck.

Then across the square a familiar golden portal opens, pulling your attention.

It pulls Venture’s too.

A figure steps out, Venture swinging his cannon arm in the new direction. You call out in warning, shooting your webs to grab his arm. The sudden pull on his arm throws his aim off and the cannon fires into a bench, leaving a charred hole the size of a man’s torso where the laser hits.

You see a piece of charred sandwich wrapper comically flutter away from the blast as a familiar voice calls out to you, using your alias of Spider.

Your head whips to see Miguel. Miguel, who you’ve just saved.

Miguel who could be vaporized right now.

“Wrap him up!” He shouts, and you nod, Miguel charging Venture while you have his arm webbed and unable to aim at him.

You seem to realize at the same time that Venture does that just because he cannot pull against your web to shoot Miguel, doesn’t mean he can’t just turn towards you.

You don't register the words, but you recognize Miguel’s shout as you backflip and narrowly dodge yet another blast from Venture’s laser cannon arm. When you’ve righted yourself you see Venture firing wildly, Miguel’s talons digging into and cracking the cannon as he shoves it aside.

You’re sprinting towards them, shooting webs to pin the cannon arm to the ground before Venture can raise it and shoot Miguel, who’s baring his teeth to bite down on the man’s other arm.

Alarm bells.

“Wait, don’t–!” You cry, shooting webs to pin down Venture’s other arm, grabbing Miguel’s shoulder to pull him back.

“Why not?!” He snarls, whipping his head and shoulders to face you, all adrenaline and teeth and talons as he crouches over Venture.

“He’s not– He’s all– he’s all juiced up with electricity–” you scramble to explain, waving your hands around.

His eyes dart over your face, your body, catching on your scraped hands, knee, and elbow. He stiffens further, breathing heavily from the short fight. In the blink of an eye he whips back around, punches Venture in the face, knocking him out cold.

“Jesus,” you whisper, eyes wide.

Miguel rises and begins to tie Venture up with his own webs, tearing yours off the now unconscious figure’s arms so that they’re no longer stuck to the ground. You’ve seen his talons before, of course, but you can’t help but stare at the quick work they make of your webs.

His mask is back on when he straightens to his full height, turning to look at you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, nodding his head at your scrapes.

You blink under your mask, looking down. Only now do you see that the scrapes on one of your hands and on your knee are bleeding again. As the fog of adrenaline begins to recede the sting of pain comes in to replace it.

“Oh, yeah. This wasn’t him, this was… earlier.” You flex your hands slightly at the growing sting in your palms, glad he can’t see your slight grimace under your mask. “It’s been an… eventful day.”

Miguel stares at you for a moment, before looking down to tap his watch. “Come to HQ.”

You nod.

Miguel insists you get your scrapes cleaned up by one of the medically trained Spider-Men at HQ when you get back. He lurks in the corner, his elbow resting on his other arm crossed over his ribs as he taps at his chin, his bottom lip. He takes brief breaks from glaring at the floor to take the occasional quick glance up at you, his fingers pausing in their tapping when he does.

“No significant debris,” Doctor Spidey says, pushing away on his stool to retrieve bandages where they sit waiting on the counter nearby after cleaning your scrapes. “They’ll heal up fast, just keep it clean for the next while until they do.”

You nod, keeping your palm out for him to wrap. Both of you try to pretend that Miguel isn’t hovering in the corner while bandages are wrapped around your palms, your outer forearm, and your knee.

“Alright!” Doctor Spidey says. “You’re good to go.”

After expressing your thanks you exit the doctor’s office, Miguel’s towering form following behind you.

“How’d you get those anyway?”

You turn to look at him, a brief jolt going through you when you find his eyes already on you. His brow is furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw twitches when he turns his gaze forward to focus on the path of the hall you both journey down.

“Oh, um, car chase earlier,” you say, wishing you had pockets to put your hands into. You finally look away, watching the ground in front of your feet.

Miguel’s form by your side eats up your awareness, even as you pass other Spider-People and exchange passing hellos. Something restless and hot rolls off his body, and it swallows you up like water.

“You need to be more careful,” he says, and his voice is sharp with agitation, frustration.

You bristle at his tone.

“I am careful. I was careful.” You frown, turning to look at him.

The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

“Yeah. Clearly.” He says, glancing at your injuries and looking away just as you frown and start to open your mouth.

“Miguel, hey! Oh-ho, and our little Garden Spider?”

It’s Peter who interrupts whatever it is you're about to say to Miguel. As usual he has May with him in the baby carrier, and her pudgy little hands hold onto his fingers as he absentmindedly bounces them in the air.

You do your best to school your features, your mask clenched in your hand as you try to take your attention back from Miguel and his now crossed arms in the corner of your vision.

“Hey Peter,” you give a close lipped smile, hoping it doesn't look as tense and forced as it feels.

He glances between the two of you, Miguel’s tense body and crossed arms, then your own stiff posture and your bandages.

“Damn,” he raises his eyebrows. “What happened to you ?”

Miguel’s crossed arms tense in the corner of your eye.

“Car chase,” you manage to say. “Slipped.” You shrug, mustering up every ounce of nonchalance in your body.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I’ve been there. Road rash is no fun. Y’know, one time–”

“Peter, as fascinating as I’m sure this story is, I have things to get to,” Miguel interrupts.

“Right,” Peter shrugs it off like it's no big deal, stepping out of the way. “You’re missing out though, it’s a pretty good story.”

“Uh-huh.” Miguel lets his arms uncross as he starts to walk again, and he gets a few large strides past Peter before he falters to a stop, turning to look back over his shoulder.

You want to continue on walking with him, you really do. That new feeling you’re getting all too familiar with, the one that squeezes your ribs, returns when his eyes meet yours. He hesitates, something unsure in his eyes.

“We still need to debrief,” Miguel says.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Miguel hesitates still, turning away at last and then walking away, shoulders tense.

Once Miguel turns the corner, Peter turns to you. “I feel like I interrupted something.”

You slump slightly, rubbing your now furrowed brow. “Today sucks, Peter.”

“Aw, hey,” Peter says, stepping closer to put a fatherly arm over your shoulders, May reaching out to pat you. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “No, I should…” you trail off and gesture in the direction Miguel had left.

“Right. Baaad idea to keep boss-man waiting.”

You nod. Peter pats your back.

“Listen,” he says, pulling back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as you lift a hand to let May grab your finger. “Whatever it is, it’s just because he cares. You know that right?”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” Letting go of May’s hand, you give Peter a tired, thankful smile. “I’ll see you around.”

You’re almost out of earshot when you hear Peter mumble to May:

“Those two are killing me, kid.”

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #spiderverse x reader

230 notes · View notes

unpublishediary · 1 year ago

Text

✵ masterlist + request info ✵

fluff, angst, miscellaneous, etc…

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘ *

PETER PARKER— and other Spider-Man characters

Focus on My Heart (hurt/comfort, sensory overload): Reader gets bit by a radioactive spider a bit later and goes through sensory overload during school, Peter comforts them through it.

What Was I Made For?: Based on the lyrics from, What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish. Reader going through a seasonal depressive episode and Peter helping her through it.

Need to Sleep: Reader is stressed and not getting enough sleep. Peter is concerned and determined to help them through it, encouraging and eventually forcing them to sleep.

Cracked Phones: Peter helps you through the loss of a loved one like you helped him get through Ben.

CONRAD FISHER ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The 4th Confession : Conrad confesses his feelings for you after a week of fighting and makes sure you know his feelings are real.

PERCY JACKSON—and other pjo/hoo characters

You’re here, you survived, this is real: After your single trip to Tartarus, you’ve come back a different person, but not for the better. Everyone notices, but especially Percy as he becomes desperate for you to open up, hurt that you’re struggling in silence and knowing that keeping it inside is too close to tearing you apart.

Why didn’t you tell me? Part One after a fight on the Argo II, reader tries to hide their injury but Percy is determined to find out what’s wrong.

Part two

UPCOMING/GUARANTEED REQUESTS:

PEETA MELLARK— and other hg characters

ARISU, RYOHEI— and other aib characters

SPENCER REID— and other cm characters

STEVE HARRINGTON— and other st characters

feel free to request other characters

59 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 2 years ago

Text

Sad girl - eighteen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, angst, guns, violence, Walker has decided that he wants to be Joe Goldberg

word count: 2.2k

a/n: there are some POV shifts in this part but I tried to make it obvious with dividers so it wasn’t too confusing. Anyways, there’s one part left!

part 17 | series masterlist

Taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @goldensunflowe-r @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @iateall-yourcookies @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10 @vickie5446 @katymae12344 @openup-yourmind @callsign-athena

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

The Stark Estate is always the looming house on the hill as the SUV approaches the large iron gates. The brick mansion is mostly covered in vines and plants, much to Pepper’s dismay. Anthony thought it gave the 20s-built house character and a homey feel so the vines were left along with the ridiculous amount of landscaping that lined the driveway. Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the blatant display of wealth as the SUV rolls down the driveway to the main house. Scott is the one to meet the men, standing with his arms crossed in front of him. The SUV slows to a stop beside him and Bucky gets out of the driver’s seat.

“The others in position,” Scott asks him as Bucky adjusts his black jean jacket to conceal his holster and gun better.

“Yep, yours?”

Scott nods while the two walk into the house. While Pepper may not have any say about the outside, she took full advantage of changing every little detail inside to fit her taste. White and marble covered every inch of the 20,000 square foot home, a stark difference from the industrial and wood feel of Bucky’s house. It reeked of cold indifference as they walked up the same stairs Doll nearly cracked with anger that day. Scott pushes open the heavy doors, letting the other man enter the room first.

As usual, Anthony is seated at his desk however without his normal crowd of men in black. Thor and Loki are reclining on the couches, guns completely on display due to their relaxed posture. A younger man, who he assumes is the new recruit Peter Parker is standing off to the side of Anthony.

“You brought a kid?” Bucky tries to hide the disgust in their voice when he sits in the same chair he had during that meeting.

“He’s not a kid and you didn’t bother to dress for the occasion,” Anthony, however, doesn’t even bother to cover his disapproval at Bucky’s outfit.

Leveling a blank stare at the other man, he speaks again “We’re not here to do business.”

Anthony rolls his eyes dramatically, making a show of it as he gestures to Scott to come over. He says something about the ETA of John to which Scott tells him he’s at the gates before leaving the room.

“What’s the status of your team?” He turns to his son-in-law.

“Waiting for my cue.”

“Good good. How about my daughter?”

“Safe.”

“Wow, I forgot how quiet you are,” he widens his eyes in annoyance, “Anyways when John gets here, I don’t want you to speak. Let me handle it and if I need you to step in, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine by me,” a hardened expression takes on his face as he rests his hands together in between his spread legs.

John’s voice echoes up the marble staircase as Bucky’s phone rings.

“Buck we have a problem.”

Nat had promised Doll that his meeting would only last a couple of hours and that it was just a business meeting.

“I swear it’s just a meeting that’s all.”

“He took his gun,” Doll is trying not to panic, however with his injury and their developing closeness, it’s getting harder and harder to stop it.

“He takes it everywhere.”

“But this is different, I can feel it. He didn’t tell me where he was going and he always tells me.”

Nat takes her by the shoulders and stops her pacing, “Do you really want to know?”

She pushes the other woman’s hands off of her, “Obviously.”

“If I tell you, will you promise to stay here until he gets back?” she demands as she sits down on the living room couch.

Doll takes a seat as well while nodding her head.

“He set up a meeting with John at your dad’s house to get him to cut his bullshit and to get your mom. Steve and Sam are headed in to get her as we speak.”

“Natasha what the fuck?” she jumps off the couch, yelling at Nat, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew this is how you were going to react. Now sit your ass back down. They’re going to be back in like an hour.”

Doll’s phone goes off, the ringtone specifically set for Morgan and she answers it in confusion, “Hey Mo Mo, what’s up?”

“Sissy help! He’s hurting everyone,” Morgan’s small voice is full of terror as she whispers into the phone.

“Mo Mo what’s going on?”

“John, he's hurting everyone. Sissy, please help!”

She looks at Nat with frightened eyes, “Where are you? Are you hiding?”

“I’m hiding in Daddy’s closet,” she cries into the phone.

She gestures to Nat to stand up as she holds the phone between her head and shoulder, “Okay Mo Mo, stay there and don’t make a sound okay? Do not open the door unless it’s Daddy, Mommy, or Scott. I’m coming.”

Hastily shoving her feet into her torn vans, she throws a pair of keys to Nat and points to the door, “Start the car and call Bucky. Shit is going down.”

“Buck we have a problem.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“She’s not here.”

“What do you mean she’s not there?”

Sam shutters from the other line, “The woman we saw isn’t her. She says she’s a housekeeper and that Walker forced her to dress up as Marianne and stay in her room until he came and got her.”

“Fuck, get out and get over here,” Bucky hangs up the phone as John bursts into the room dragging the woman in question beside him. Blood is dripping from her eyebrow and her lip no doubt from where he hit her. Bruises are starting to form on her face and arms as she drops to the floor when John lets go of her arm. Thor and Loki jump to their feet, guns drawn and pointed at the man.

“Gentlemen! What a lovely fucking surprise,” he exclaims, holding Marianne by the hair, “Imagine my surprise when Scott here told me that I was being set up and I found your two buddies lurking around my house.”

Anthony stands but the sudden movement is not welcomed by the furious man and he pulls his own gun on the woman beside him.

“Sit down or I’ll shoot sweet Marianne,” the threat causes her to start crying and begging for her life as she claws at the hand holding her hair, “Shut the fuck up.”

Anthony does as he’s told and sits down. Bucky’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace, the soldier and mercenary in him remaining calm even when the room is up in arms. He rubs his eyebrow in mild annoyance that the meeting went south so quickly. He expected that this would happen, just not so quickly. Scott, on the other hand, is frozen by the door after being caught double-crossing his boss.

“Thor and Loki sit,” John demands of the two brothers.

Thor glances back to Anthony who gives him a nod and a dismissive wave. A shot rings out and is followed by a thud. Bucky glances over his shoulder to see that Scott is the one hit. Footsteps and shuffling are heard from behind him as the two brothers collect the body and take it out of the room. Looking forward again, he can see the disgusted and sickened face of Peter who hasn’t moved an inch since this whole thing started.

“Peter, go find my wife and daughter,” Anthony directs the young man.

He doesn’t move at first but Anthony saying his name sharply snaps him back to reality as he rushes out of the room to find the two other Stark family members. Marianne cries out again as John rips her up to her feet and forces her to sit in the chair next to Bucky.

“Care to explain what the real reason for this meeting was?” John sneers at the two men, eyes rapidly shifting between them.

Taking a deep breath and shifting his feet slightly so they’re more solid on the ground, Bucky speaks, “It was to ask you to leave my wife and her mom alone however objectives have changed.”

“Enough with the cryptic nonsense, start talking,” he shoves the gun into the woman’s hair, releasing another cry for help.

“Let her go and we can.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to ask again,” Bucky rolls his shoulders and shifts to the edge of his chair.

“Then don’t,” he moves his attention to Anthony, “And you. I can’t believe you would help him with all of this. I had to go through Scott to find all of this out.”

Anthony licks his lips, “He is married to my daughter so I felt obligated to help.”

John lets out a downright evil laugh, “Obligated? You felt obligated? That’s fucking hilarious. I think you wanted to cut me out of the deal and saw your opportunity.”

“So what?” the older man shrugs his shoulders at the accusation.

“If you felt so obligated to help your family then you would try and stop me if I shot Marianne?”

“No, she’s not my family.”

“You’re not going to shoot her. You are going to let her go though,” Bucky clears his throat and aims his stare at John.

The constant demands are starting to wear down his resolve and his finger grows restless on the trigger. Taking out all three of them right now would solve all of his problems. Taking out all three would bring back his sweetheart and he could have her all to himself. The decision is made for him when three shots crack out and three loud thuds hit the floor.

“Fuck, get out and get over here.”

Sam curses under his breath as he pockets his phone and waves Steve over from his search of the bedroom.

“Buck said to head to the Stark estate. John took her with him.”

“Shit,” Steve curses before turning to the housekeeper, “Go home, pack your stuff, and get out of here.”

She nods quickly while crying and takes off out of the room. The two men reupholster their guns and leave the room. They swiftly exit the house and climb into their SUV, speeding off to the Stark Estate.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam tells the man to his side as he races through the city streets.

“Me too. Did he say anything else?”

“Not just that we needed to get over there. Do we have a first aid kit?”

Steve reaches behind the driver’s seat and pulls a backpack to the front. Opening it, he digs through it until he finds the kit.

“I hope you’re wrong,” he says, shoving the kit back in and putting it at his feet. He pulls his gun out and checks his clip before checking the rest of the clips attached to his tactile vest.

“Me too, man, me too.”

Nat refused to let Doll drive, insisting that she could get them there faster and in one piece. Morgan had hung up the phone before they left in fear that John would hear her voice and find her. She promised to answer when her sister got there and called her to get her out. The phone rings over the car’s speakers and she smashes the answer button when she sees that it’s Sam calling.

“Nat get her out of New York. We’re here and shit isn’t looking good.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Doll says with an eerily calm voice.

“Shit, where is Nat?”

“Here.” “Please tell me you’re not on your way here,” the stress of the situation is draining his energy.

“Morgan called me crying that John was hurting people. She’s hiding in our parent’s closet. Do you know where their room is?”

“Do not go in until we can meet you. Nat, make sure she stays put until we have eyes on you and Bucky,” Steve’s voice is harsh and authoritative as he takes over the call, “Doll I need you to answer me.”

“Yes I won’t go in until I see you or Sam,” she begrudgingly answers, slouching into the car seat.

“Good see you guys in a few,” he hangs up the phone.

“Do you have an extra gun?” She asks, opening the glove compartment and riffling through it.

“No close that,” Nat slams it shut, “you’re not going in.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #mob au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #sad girl - bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

170 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 2 years ago

Text

Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: Parker didn’t like how the turn tables -Danny

Words: 1,676

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Labyrinth’ -by Taylor Swift

vi: The Amazing Copycat

Cat woke up feeling happy. She stretched on the bed and opened her eyes a little, finding Parker face down and drooling on his pillow. "Ugh, men," she groaned. "Way to ruin the view..."

The mutant pushed the blankets off and dragged her feet until she reached the bathroom, making a beeline to the mirror. Of her injuries and bruises now there were only small and dispersed scars across the skin.

Behind her, hanging from the shower curtain, was her brand-new suit. She examined it intently: the old logo was there in red above the blue fabric, Parker had added his own style to it, now the claw marks were on the sides, making it look like a spider with thin, hairy legs.

She heard the young man stirring on the bed and Cat ran towards it, jumping over to make him bounce. He groaned in response. "Get up, sleepy head!" She tickled his ear with a lock of her hair. "You promised your aunt we'd have breakfast at her place!"

"What time is it?" He mumbled against the pillow.

"Eight? Maybe seven?" She looked at the clock on his nightstand. "Ah, six in the morning."

He whined, blinking away his sleepiness and trying to focus on her face. "You're not a morning person, why are you awake?"

"I can be a morning person if I want to."

"No. You've been sleeping till noon for weeks."

"I was depressed."

He buried his face in the pillow. "It's Sunday, C.C..."

"C.C?" She teased him. "Not Janie?"

"You're C.C. when you annoy me."

"C'moooon! You promised May!" She shook him.

Parker's grumble turned into a loud groan as he pushed himself up and threw a pillow at her, which she pushed away in disgust since it was the one he'd drooled all over. "If there is no coffee waiting for me once I get out of the shower," he warned her. "I'm turning your suit into swimming trunks."

Cat walked into the woman's home holding a box of doughnuts. "I hope you didn't cook a lot, 'cause we're eating the whole dozen today!"

"Hi, kiddos!" May welcomed her with a hug, her attention moved to the tall young man behind her. "Peter, you look exhausted!"

"I am tired. Jane woke me up by jumping on the bed like a kid on Christmas— two hours before it was even dawn!" He said grumpily.

"That is not true!" She laughed. "It wasn't dark outside, I swear!"

Cat was quick to take a seat while Parker and May cooked breakfast. Witnessing their interactions reminded her of Happy and her when she was in high school. Morgan was bound to have the same experience with her tutors.

"Jane?"

She gave a start. "Yes?"

"I asked if you wanted milk," Parker said with an inquisitive look.

"Milk. Yeah, thank you."

He nodded, brows still furrowed.

"Can't believe in all the years you've lived in New York, you've never been to the library!"

"Why would I? I don't go to school since I was a teen," she snorted. "Besides, Mouse always..." she wondered if Kate was still in possession of her A.I. and if they'd found Russo after she vanished. If Kurt was even alive...

Parker's face came into view, he waved a hand across her line of vision with a taunting smile. "You okay?"

Cat stared at him. "Yeah... sorry, I just... lost my train of thought."

Worry made itself present on the young man's face, and this time he didn't try to hide it. "We don't know what might happen if a person stays out of their universe for too long..."

"Hey," she said with a tremor in her voice. "You're not helping."

"Right. Sorry." He pulled her along. "Library. I'm showing you the erotica section, you'll love it."

Cat laughed, though it was weak.

"And that makes five!" Copycat stuck the pickpocketer to the brick wall proudly, she looked at the streetlight above. "Saw that? I didn't even have to touch him!"

"Police is coming," Spidey pointed ahead. "Time to go!"

"See you!" She waved at the stranger before teleporting.

Parker was swinging from one building to the other when Cat shouted "On your left!", the spider faced down, watching her appear out of thin air in a cloud of brimstone. He offered his hand to her and Cat took it without a second thought. Spidey pulled her up and wrapped one arm around her waist. Copycat put her arms around him and let out a joyful exclamation as they swung across the city.

"Hold tight!" Cat teleported the both of them to the top of the Empire State.

"Wooo!" The young man leaned against the tower. "Look at that..!"

"Looks so cool when it's snowing..." she said absently.

"Yeah, Christmas is getting close..."

"The last Christmas I celebrated was..." Cat tilted her head. "Was it last year? Oh, wow, I was fully expecting it to be years ago... dates are a little cluttered..."

"Been a long year, huh?"

Cat sighed. "Every year's a long year since Thanos snapped his chubby fingers."

"How long since that happened?"

"Eight years," she replied right away. "Most of my friends have been dead for three years."

He hummed. "How are ya holding up?"

"I miss them, I always will... I still can't say everything was worth it, I made mistakes, but at least some things were worth the trouble."

"Is this moment in your life worth the trouble?" He crouched, holding himself with one hand to avoid slipping.

"Yeah, because I have my friends," she looked at him. "Harley, Kate, and Kurt— and Peter and Happy—"

"And Matthew?"

"Oh... that's... that's someone."

"Uh-huh," he tilted his head. "That means..?"

"He's around."

"So are you going to look for him once you're back?"

"I know what you're doing, Parker."

"I'm asking a question."

Her mind drifted again to Kraven, he was out there with a personal vendetta against Nightcrawler and her. Why did he think Kurt was the one responsible for Dmitri's death? She'd been the one that slit his throat...

"You saw me kill those guys."

Parker tensed. "I won't tell you how to live your life, not knowing all you've been through."

"I just wanted them out of the way," she answered bluntly.

"They were shooting, I saw them."

"I could've just knocked them out..."

"What's your point?" He pressed. "That you're not a good person? That I should keep my distance?"

"I'm saying I have things to do and you're not on the list," she snapped. "So don't think you have a shot."

He got to his feet and got closer, towering over her by a few inches. "I don't believe you."

"Get it in your head," she felt cornered, "you'll never be the Peter I fell in love with."

She teleported back to Parker's apartment.

She heard him sneak into the bathroom more quietly than at other times, he was trying not to wake her. Cat froze, listening intently to all of his movements. Parker left the bathroom to find his home in complete darkness, like that one time she'd argued with Matthew. But this time she was going to speak her mind whether this man wanted to hear it or not.

She sat up abruptly, startling Parker when he was on his way to the couch. "You're the only friend I have here," she said in a shaky, hurt voice. "I don't want that to change," Cat looked for his face in the darkness, "I'm sorry for what I said. It was out of line."

"It's okay—"

"No, it's not okay," she insisted. "I've done this countless times before. To Matthew, Kate, Peter, and everyone else. I say cruel things so they leave me alone, and then I spent the rest of my time regretting them." She grabbed fistfuls of her hair. "And I don't know if they're alive, I just dropped everything on their shoulders— Kate had her next step all planned and I stomped all over it—"

"Jane—"

"And Kurt," her voice quivered. "For years I've done nothing but disappoint him—"

"Jane."

"And he almost died!" She was hyperventilating. "Because I was dropping names left and right thinking no one was paying attention... I almost got my best friend killed—"

"You're right, it's not okay," he interrupted her, making no attempts to approach. "You were a jerk and you made us hate you. And that's what really hurts, that you'd rather not have us around," he moved a little and a beam of moonlight landed on his face, he looked miserable. "You don't know the half of it."

"What do you mean?" Cat slowed down in confusion.

"I didn't go back to your universe just so I could prove a point," he replied with a tone of exasperation. "You were my only motivation to get better. You and Peter proved to me that I wasn't alone..." he gave a step forward. "I had to see you again."

Cat's attention was thoroughly on him. She'd met a god once, and Peter Parker's face under the moonlight looked a lot like one.

"I created an absurd machine just to spend a few minutes in your presence, and then I accidentally brought you here and I knew at some point you'd say things that would hurt, and that's the worse thing I've felt in years. Just knowing at some point you'd break my heart, not knowing exactly when. I don't want to feel that way about you, 'cause that's how Gwen..."

His voice broke, and he couldn't keep going. Cat moved out of the bed and found her way into the dark without trouble, Parker pulled her close.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her body relaxed at his touch. "I've endured so much pain, and even provoked it... but I've had enough. I have my memories back, I know who I can be, and this is not who I want to be."

"That makes two of us," his hand moved to the back of her head and kept her in place. "You're coming with me to the tunnels tomorrow. You think you can't help but I have faith in you, I know you have the answer."

She thought it was selfish, but at the same time, she didn't care. Being her was exhausting. Cat knew deep down she hadn't tried to participate in his research because she was enjoying her freedom too much to leave it behind.

"No more setbacks. You're going home."

"Okay," she said, not knowing what home even meant for her.

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae @ieatpanicattacksforlunch @jesuswasnotawhiteman @siriuslysirius1107 @greengarsstuff @itsyagirl01 @23victoria @espressopatronum454 @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel original character #copycat fic

11 notes · View notes

starlazergazer · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Top Ten Most Popular

Here’s my ao3 in case you’re interested!

*All Anakin x Reader

1. Are You Okay

2. Nervous

3. I’ll Make it up to You

4. Flirting With the Dark Side

5. I Will Come Back for You

6. I’ve Got You

7. It’s Not Too Late

8. There Under the Surface

9. Welcome Home

10. Princess

Anakin

Just Wanted to Help - Anakin comforts reader after finding her crying in the hallway

There Under the Surface - Jealous Anakin when you’re sent to work with an old friend

I’ll Make it up to You - Anakin’s forced to grovel after saying something mean in a fight

Are You Okay - Reader hides injury from Anakin

I’ve Got You - Reader wakes up on Anakin’s chest

Flirting With the Dark Side - Hades and Persephone AU

Princess - Anakin gets under the reader’s skin while acting as her bodyguard for an upcoming speech

No Where Else to Go - Reader ends up at her “enemy’s” doorstep after a hard mission

Best Friend’s Master - Reader is waitress at Dex’s diner and friends with Ahsoka

Trapped - Anakin freeing reader who is a prisoner of war

Spare Key Spark Key Part 2 - Soulmate matching eye color AU

Treasure Planet AU - only part one for now!

I Will Come Back for You - Anakin promises to come back for childhood best friend after leaving for the order

Fallen Sick - Reader refuses to take care of herself when she’s sick

Not Sinking - Anakin teaches reader to swim

Nervous - Anakin pinning after a shy/oblivious reader

It’s Not Too Late - Anakin’s second chance after becoming a sith

Through the Looking Glass - star wars/marvel AU, reader is peter parkers girlfriend in another universe

Senators Shadow - Anakin acts as readers bodyguard and is incredibly cold and distant

You Deserve Better - Anakin is there for reader while she struggles in an unhealthy relationship

Welcome Home - Pregnant reader flees sith!Anakin

Say My Name and Everything Just Stops - Reader gets dressed up for a ball

Pinkey Promise - Reader follows Anakin into dangerous warzone to his dismay

Couldn’t Get Rid of Me if you Tried - Anakin makes reader sleep and comforts her during a nightmare

Figure Something Out - Enemies/academic rivals to lovers

You Promised - Anakin gets hurt and the reader freaks out

Separated - The Council force the reader and Anakin apart

Obi-Wan

Distraction - Reader acts as bait to Obi-Wan’s dismay

The Space Medium - Reader has ability to see ghosts and helps Obi-Wan come to terms with the passing of his master

852 notes · View notes

helloheyhihowdyheya · 2 years ago

Text

In Between

Peter Parker x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: An anniversary, especially after a hard and distant year, should be a celebration. But those words you never wanted to hear made it anything but.

Word count: ~6.2k

Warnings: Mind control, angst, insecurity, Peter being hurtful but it’s not his fault. Hurt/comfort, fluff at the end. Canon-level violence. Mention of blood and injuries

A/N: I needed to write some angst, hope this was at least a little painful. Let me know, as always, what you thought! Any comments are appreciated, love you <3

The past year, through stolen moments between missions, strained late-night calls when you were apart, and tear-filled fighting when things got tough, you’d learned that dating Peter Parker could get very hard. Whispering “I love you’s” into a phone felt like he was right next to you, but the dial tone and a hard blink brought you back to staring up at the moonlight-scattered ceiling.

Though, meeting him felt like taking your first real breath of the day, clear air filling your lungs and giving you life. Bringing yourself forward and connecting your lips to his for the first time was the opposite. The feeling of Peter against you was all-encompassing, crushing your body until it could combine with his. And every day after that, you knew just wrapping your fingers in his could solve any problem you had.

But those times in between when arguments grew and festered made his grip on your hand too hot, stinging your skin and leaving love marks in their path. Nearly every time, with teary apologies and a conversation exhausted from emotion, you’d picked up the pattern weaving through every single fight. One of you would hide a painful injury or “conveniently” leave out a near-death moment when recounting a solo mission.

Peter didn’t want you to see his limping walk. You refused to openly admit where the scar on your ribs came from. And no matter how hard either of you held onto this idea that it’d somehow save the other from pain, it just hurt you back, your hands holding on too long to a falling rope and getting burned. Frantic pacing after days of no communication or repeated calls that went to voicemail ate away at your nerves and the trust you both tried to build.

Sometimes, in those quiet seconds that ticked away in the brief time between midnight and dawn, the thoughts grew and grew — becoming invasive vines that couldn’t be cut back no matter how many times you screamed into your pillow. Anxious worries prodded at the back of your mind, pulling out ideas that, if Peter were next to you, he’d shoo away with kisses to your forehead and strong arms wrapped around you, promising to fight each and every one of them.

But he wasn’t. So they drifted out into the night air and twisted around your body until they squeezed too tight. They whispered that you two fought so much because you weren’t right for Peter, and that he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Or that your fights drove him away, maybe to someone better he’d find out on those missions. He had to know they only happened because you two cared about each other, right? …Right?

Any of these worries, though still quietly incessant, died in your throat when he’d come back, more important things between you, like how he winced when your thumb brushed against a bruise blooming along his cheekbone. Despite the discoloration and exhaustion, Peter still smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as yours watered.

Any thoughts that might disturb the quiet peace of that moment could always wait until later, including after your anniversary. Everything else shrunk, looking laughably insignificant on that morning, your bodies wrapped around one another in the early hours of the day.

The city below was still waking up, the blue tint of the yawning sky stretching across buildings. Peter’s chest moved up and down in gentle breaths, rolling under your head in lapping waves. As his thumb traced over the back of your hand, you knew that while it hadn’t been painless, loving Peter was the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Giving your heart to him, no questions asked or take-backs, had felt easier than falling asleep, than eating, than any decision you’d ever had to make. Sometimes, your head spun when thinking about how it’d been a year already.

The days you had off were often filled with movie marathons in the Avengers movie room, cuddled under blankets together with endless bowls of popcorn between you. If you’d go out in the city, your shrieks and giggles breathed against his neck as he swung you between buildings.

But today, under the growing sunlight, you planned other things to do. A dinner date, making pancakes in your pajamas — things normal couples did. Pretend that every day didn’t feel like life or death. Not that you told him, but you planned to even throw flour at him while cooking to get that dumb Hallmark movie moment, because damn it if you two didn’t deserve it.

In bed, as a rumbling sigh escaped Peter’s throat, you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing along his skin. “Good morning,” he hummed, his voice still crackling with sleep. He reached a hand to rub at his eyes before wrapping you in them, pulling you on top of his chest.

“Good morning.” You couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face, just taking a moment to note all the different specks gracing his eyes.

He leaned forward as you did, bringing your lips together as fingers rested along the curve of your jaw. You eventually pulled back to touch your forehead to his, whispering, “Happy anniversary.”

Peter’s wide grin lit up the room more than the light streaming in between the blinds. His mouth opened, likely to wish you a happy anniversary back, when the silence of your morning shattered with monstrous crashing out on the street.

You groaned against his lips, shutting your eyes and hoping it wasn’t an “Avengers-level threat.” But as F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice alerted everyone to get ready, you couldn’t miss the apologetic look Peter gave or the sweet smile.

Even in the quiet of getting your gear on, you wished the day could’ve continued as it had been — warm and peaceful without having to worry about whether you’d both make it to see the next sunrise.

And that exact fear bubbled inside of you when you saw him among the wreckage. Any softness of the morning disappeared into the dust coating the air.

“Peter…?”

Despite the background explosions and fighting, your quiet voice echoed into the air. Heavy breaths heaved your chest up and down; your thighs screamed from sprinting down the road, through an alley, over and under fallen debris to where you’d seen Peter go down.

The moment replayed in your mind as you shuffled through the warehouse toward his moaning body. The robotic soldiers that had descended on New York were unresponsive to Tony’s attempt at communicating with them, the thousands of them merely standing and taking guard around the city.

From afar, waiting near your other team members, you had watched for any slight movement from the robots. Peter stood beside you, his gloved hand squeezing yours, as you strained to hear Tony’s voice, even with the streets unusually quiet.

The calmness of the streets splintered and shattered altogether when a man appeared on top of a bridge, flowing cape and all, to announce that he was the one leading this army (as if the homemade suit and tall boots hadn’t given it away).

During his monologue on the immorality of humans vs. the objective nature of robots – and himself, of course – were the way to lead the world, all you could think about were the fluffy pancakes you and Peter were supposed to be having at this moment. But as the man offered any willing participants to follow his rule, which included a chip planted into your body to remove any agency and control, your appetite fizzled away.

Even now in the darkened warehouse, tired muscles moving your body through the wreckage, remembering how he showed off the long spikes of the chip to insert at the base of your skull churned your stomach.

Tony’s adamant, and sarcastic, refusal had the man reaching his hand down, your own creeping toward the knives strapped to your hip. At the press of a button, the robotic soldiers sprang to life and marched toward your team, all of them just bodies to complete this man’s “selfless” mission.

As your team fought off each of them, their metal parts collapsing to the ground with each strike, everyone pushed toward the source — strike the hive at its source. But your teammates were swallowed up by a new wave of soldiers as they got closer, each falling short before they could even land a hit.

But Peter… the red and blue of his suit sticking out toward the back of the warehouse, your throat pushing down a sickly swallow… he had been the one to make it to the man. As you buried a knife through a robot’s neck, the wires fraying and sparking while its body slumped to the ground, your eyes caught Peter swinging above the sea of robots and up to the top of the bridge. His webs shot out, sticking the guy to the bridge he stood on.

Steve’s shield flying past your head, Sam’s wings flapping above you, Natasha’s gun firing to your left, and metal crunching into sharp bits all surrounded you, but every noise slipped away, even your shallow breaths, when his agonizing scream pierced through the air. It weaved through every layer of your skin, twisting around your muscles and shooting straight to your heart, squeezing it tight until you couldn’t move. Your body stood stuck in place except for your eyes that frantically scanned above for a sign of him.

On the other side of the bridge, the man had a hold of Peter — one hand around his throat, the other around the back of his neck. As Peter managed a kick to the man’s jaw, a twisted expression of pain on his face joined Peter’s writhing. For a brief second, his webs shot out and he swung away.

Any sigh of relief tiptoeing out of your lungs froze at seeing his body go limp in midair. His form fell toward a large building, his plummeting hidden behind other buildings. But his groans were unmistakable as crashing sounded out. Your feet took off without checking in with any of your teammates, your mind only on whether Peter was okay… whether there’d be an anniversary to celebrate at all.

The only light in the warehouse streamed in from the mangled roof he must have fallen through. As you neared, your teeth beginning to hurt at how hard you were clenching them, your mind wanted to black out, hide from seeing the pain Peter was in… if he was even alive to feel it.

“Peter?” you said again while reaching a hand out toward the ripped suit of his arm. Your fingers moved in shaky jerks as your skin nearly brushed against his.

Before you could even touch him, your body wanting so badly just to feel him and know that he was okay, a red-gloved hand shot up and grabbed your wrist, making a screaming yelp rip from your throat.

The grip he had begun to sting, his fingers wrapped too tight around you. It only pressed harder around your arm as you tried pulling away, a whimper pushing past your lips at the pain.

“Please…” he groaned out, your body aching just from hearing the desperation in his voice.

“Peter, it’s okay. I got you,” you told him while pulling backward with all of your weight. Inch by painful inch, he emerged from the wreckage, his body heaving with deep breaths.

As you fell backward, Peter landing next to you, his hand fell into your palm. Your eyes trailed up his body, watching the way his limbs trembled. His mask was thoroughly torn, gaps in it showing his bloodied face, including his eyes squeezed shut.

Heaving yourself up, you wrapped your hands around his arms and shouldered his body, weakened grunts coming from both of you. “Come on. You’ll be okay.” Your voice came out scratchy and thick, unsure of how convincing you sounded.

Peter limped as you pushed open the warehouse door, blinding sunlight hitting your eyes. The two of you walked back toward the tower until you felt resistance from him. “Wait… We have to go back.” He pulled toward the crashing sounds and yelling. So much yelling from your teammates and fleeing citizens.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your steps finally stilling as you looked at him. “You’re hurt. We have to get you to the med center.”

“No, we can’t leave them. I– I have to help. Take me to him, and let me get a second chance at him.” His eyes searched yours, but to you, they felt distant, unfocused. Without waiting for your answer, his feet moved back to the fighting, his superhuman strength pulling you along even in his injured state.

The silence floating between the two of you, besides labored breathing, stung in the air, leaving a burnt taste on your tongue. Its razor-sharp teeth ate away at you, and the way his hand around you laid limp over your shoulder rather than holding onto you. Though, you pushed it far back as you focused on keeping the both of you moving.

Rounding the corner from the alley, your bodies crossed into the street leading toward battle. Toward more pain, you thought, glancing at the cuts adorning his body. Though you shuddered at thinking of how much pain there’d be if you didn’t help.

From afar, you saw the distinct red, white, and blue of Steve fighting off robots next to your other teammates. Closer, though, was the bridge the “robot overlord” (you hadn’t bothered to learn his name) stood on, his back facing you. But as you neared him, he turned around, his obnoxious cape swirling around him.

Your eyes squinted, trying to make out the black box in his hands from this distance. You were beginning to form a question to Peter when his foot suddenly hit yours as his body slumped. It tripped you, no longer able to hold him up while his weight pulled you to the ground with a thud against the tar.

The breath in your lungs flew out, leaving you coughing into the air, face cringing at the pain of pebbles embedded in your palms and knees. “Are you okay?” you asked him, though his body looked okay and alert. Even with Peter’s health constantly gnawing at you, you couldn’t help but stare back at the man on the bridge, a smile rising from his face.

Your gaze only broke when Peter threw his head back, his sharp breath accenting biting words you’d never heard before. “God, why is nothing ever easy with you?” he asked, training his eyes on you.

“What?” Your body had wanted to touch his, check to see whether he was injured further, but now, it instinctively pulled away. Leaning backward, you needed something between you, a shield while you processed what he said. You shook your head, saying, “Peter, I think we just need to get to the med bay and get out of here.”

He slowly tried getting up, refusing your hand when you offered to help him. As he squared his shoulders, his hand coming up to wipe down his face, he let out a long sigh. “Just don’t know how we ever got this far,” he muttered, limping away from you.

Your mouth sputtered for a moment, your mind unable to understand his words. “I… Like, how we got this far on the street without tripping?” Trailing after him, you reached your hand to brush against his, trying to hold him again.

The way he pulled away, the feeling of his fingers slipping through yours burning against your skin, had you gasping for air. Had you done something so horrible? He turned to you, face tight. His eyes swirled with such darkness as he stared you down. “No. I don’t know how we got this far in this relationship if you’re always making things worse.”

Though Peter looked bloodied and bruised, making part of you want to support his swaying body, you took a step backward, your arms coming to cross and cover your chest. Any throbbing in your hands and exhaustion coursing through you disappeared into the background with the screams. With a strained voice, you said, “Peter, you don’t mean that…”

Tears began to well, threatening to spill over against the grime caked on your cheeks. He clenched his jaw, tilting his head to the side while he looked at you. “Is that so?” His head shook back and forth, no expression in the face that kissed you good night and good morning, that whispered sweet nothings when you felt far away from the world. “How about you just leave me to do the actual saving here, okay?”

With that, he let out a final breath before turning away, leaving you with sobs rising in your throat. Your teeth sunk into the inside of your mouth, wondering how he had held out his hand for your heart and hid a knife in his other one so easily. Maybe all those nights of reassuring you had worn on him. Had he grown tired of lying and saying everything was okay?

You winced, knowing these questions only made his words bury themselves deeper into the pit forming in your stomach, but you couldn’t turn them off. Looking around, you tried to swallow it down, put one foot in front of the other to keep fighting off this guy. Through watery vision, you looked to Peter, wondering how he could say he loved you and also say these things.

And as he walked, ready to swing away with your crushed soul in his fist, you saw the way the back of his mask had ridden up, a red dot now blinking at the base of his skull. The gasp that scraped through you had his body stopping and stiffening, his head slowly turning back to you.

“You’re– you’re not Peter…” you nearly whispered, your hand coming up to rest against your neck. Your head swam, nausea hitting you as a sly smile grew across his face.

He let out an airy laugh, pursing his lips. “Ah, but I’m a better version of Peter,” he sneered at you, making your breath stop, a shaky exhale stuck in the back of your throat.

“Peter, please,” you whispered, backing away but never taking your eyes off of him.

“But… had you not said anything, I might’ve let you live just a little longer, sweetheart.” Each heartbeat pounded harder with each he took toward you, your head swimming between collapsing in his arms and grabbing your knife to run through his body.

Even when his wrist first touched yours, that spark of familiarity itched at you to tell him to take it all back and confess that this was a terrible dream. But as it tightened, sure to leave pulsing bruises behind, you pleaded in an empty voice, “Let go of me.”

You screamed again when the rest of Peter’s body sprang forward, lunging at you. The breath was knocked from your lungs as you landed back on the ground, him on top of you. His other hand grabbed your free wrist, pinning them both to the road before he stilled.

His terrible laughing only grew at your terrified look, your lip beginning to quiver. Your hips and legs bucked against him, trying to throw him off but to no use. Trying to calm yourself, you mustered, “Hey tiger, are you in there?” and hoped it somehow made it through whatever daze he was under. Part of his soaked hair stuck out a rip in the mask, and you imagined how you’d rub shampoo in it if you were lucky to make it out of this.

Any other negotiations died in your throat when Peter released one of your wrists and brought a fist back, a seething sigh coming through his teeth. In an instant, you used the free hand to land a punch against his cheek, a groan trembling from his mouth. You pushed him off balance and threw your body weight around, landing on top of him.

His fingers came to his now busted lip, the corner of your eyes stinging at the sight. At the pain you caused him. With your throat tight and vision unfocused, you stroked a thumb along his jaw, praying he could feel it, but all it did was strike a match and ignite his fury. His other hand, balled into a fist, connected with your stomach. You heaved forward, your body retching at the force.

In the periphery of your awareness, you felt his hands gripping your sides, trying to throw you off. It was enough to bring you back for a second, your fist pulling back and punching his nose, a sickening crack sounding out. You only caught a glimpse of him reeling as you scrambled away from him, your feet carrying you through to another alley.

You only made it part of the way down, your fingers gripping your abdomen before his grunts echoed along the walls behind you. With a staggering run, you ducked into a nearby building. It had a hallway of different stores on each side, their lights all off in the midst of this battle going on. You saw a flower shop on the left, spotting several hiding places you could duck behind and catch your breath. And you did just that, your body collapsing onto the ground and hoping he didn’t find you.

Resting your head back against a counter, your eyes shut for a brief moment. At least it would smell nice when he attacked you, the scent reminding you of any time Peter brought home a bouquet of flowers for you. Like what you woke up to this morning, ready to celebrate the day with him. And none of it mattered anymore when the door you came in rang open, steps hitting the tiled floor in slow movements.

Your hand came up, clamping over your mouth to hide your labored breathing. It also stopped the gasp you tried making when you heard Peter’s voice say your name. Then, “Are you in here? Please, I don’t know what happened. Are you okay?”

He was on the opposite side of the store from you, his words sounding soft and broken. Your top teeth came down to bite your bottom lip, hard enough to break skin as you contemplated looking over the counter at him. His pleas hit your ears, stabbing past your eardrum and into your body with each word.

As quietly as possible, you peeked around the side of the counter you hid behind. Peter faced away, looking around the flowers a few yards from you. What was supposed to be a quick glance drew out longer as you caught a glimpse of that blinking red light again. Bile rose in the back of your throat thinking of the pain he felt.

You couldn’t watch anymore, returning to your hiding place with an ache forming inside. But your shoulder brushed against a flower as you moved. The soft graze barely registered a sound, but you knew Peter could hear it. Any doubt was gone when a quiet chuckle came from the other side of the store. When he finally spoke, his voice came out hoarse, as rough and sharp as the words he said. “Oh, so my sweetheart doesn’t want to help? Doesn’t want to come out and play?”

Steps began again, your heart stopping in your chest. There wasn’t much room to run in this small store, your body curling in on itself here. Light coming from the shop’s windows swam past you, a tiny stream glinting off a knife strapped to your thigh. As a shadow passed by in the reflection, you weren’t sure who this Peter was behind you, but he wasn’t yours. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to grab it when his whispered words breathed out next to your ear.

“There you are…”

Your boots slid against the ground while you crawled away and your hands bit into the tiles’ grooves. He grabbed at your suit, beginning to pull you across the floor until your foot connected with his ankle, making his fingers loosen for a moment. You ripped away from his grip and ran around other counters, putting distance between the two of you.

His sharp breath out turned into a grunt. “You’re always so difficult,” he bit out, his hands grabbing his injured ankle but keeping his eyes on you.

The throbbing of your bruised knuckles and stomach drifted away, your throat growing tighter. You stared at the exit, but he blocked it, his body forcing yours into the corner. “Peter, that’s just the chip talking. Please.”

Before you could blink, his arms flew out and webs shot behind you, sticking to cabinets and ripping the doors off. Even with your arms coming up to cover your head, the doors crashed against your body hard, metal hinges cutting skin as they connected. After a few moments, or a shattered lifetime, you felt the warmth of blood running across your body.

Your hands and knees collided with the floor from the impact, a whimper forcing itself from your mouth as red drops splattered alongside you. Despite any wreckage around, there was no missing Peter saying, “I actually think I’ve never been more honest in my life, honey.” Letting out a grunt, he raised his voice. “I’m finally free… free to tell you how I really feel.”

The cabinet doors clattered from you as you shuffled away, telling him, “This isn’t who you are. You know that.” Your eyes connected with his, a deep dread filling your lungs and washing down your body, each wave in synchronization with his skipping laugh.

“Oh, but this chip is what made me realize. Maybe if you had one embedded in that sweet skull of yours, you’d finally see that I never loved you,” he said, his voice even as he stepped closer to your trembling body. You tried shaking your head, knowing he was just trying to hurt you, but it was Peter’s voice saying these things. If you got out of this alive, you promised to ruin this robot man for doing this. For making the person who knew every weakness and worried thought about you throw them back with acid.

Tears stung at your eyes and spilled over as sobs began heaving louder. They grew thin and choked when Peter’s hand seized around your throat, lifting you from the ground and into the air. Your lungs fought to get a breath out as your hands fought his, but he just squeezed harder and landed a last punch across your nose. No noise came out with your pained cry, your eyes drifting down to his. The same lips that whispered of your future together late at night were gone, the expression on his face unrecognizable as an easy smile appeared.

Your flailing legs and crying eyes did nothing to stop him, your mind screaming for him to release you, but he wouldn’t relent. The edges of your vision grew fuzzy with the lack of oxygen, so with a dropping pit eating at your chest, your shaking fingers reached down. You hoped Peter would forgive you.

Gripping the knife, you unsheathed it, plunging it forward in an instant. The blade buried itself into his shoulder, his screaming hurting as much as your aching throat when he dropped you to the floor. His body stumbled back, crashing into a flower display and collapsing, a hand coming to the knife sticking from him.

Scrambling forward, while he sat there dazed, you grabbed his web shooter from his wrists, putting it on your own. He seemed to sputter, drift in and out of consciousness. God, what had this chip done to him? There was no way your knife should’ve done this much damage.

You couldn’t watch his face as your hands moved him gently so as to not disturb the wound before binding his arms and legs. His continuous moans didn’t stop as you dragged his body out into the hallway and through the door.

Outside, the brick wall of the building scratched at your hand as you used it to lean forward, painful coughs ripping through you. Rubbing your throat, you knew you needed water, and a surgeon or something for Peter.

The sounds of metal on metal were quieter now, your stomach tightening as uncertainty filled you. Which side had won? As your legs shook, your body sliding down the wall next to Peter, you weren’t sure you’d make it hiding from an army of robots. But rounding the corner of a far building, your hand coming to shield the sunlight, you saw Tony’s unmistakable suit flying toward you.

Your head lolled to the side, eyes squeezing tight before opening them, forcing yourself to stay conscious. As the whooshing of the suit’s flying died down, all your shaking fingers could do was point at the chip still blinking below Peter’s head before everything went dark.

- -

With eyes still shut, you tried reaching a hand to your throbbing throat, each tentative swallow rubbing a cough out of you. But something attached to your fingers and arm pulled you back, your hand flopping down to the bed… on top of something warm. Despite the aching throughout your limbs trying to pull you back under, you blinked against the fluorescent lights.

The white ceiling tiles and walls felt barren as your gaze drifted down to where your hand landed. Both bloodied and bruised, two hands intertwined in the small crack between two hospital beds. The sight brought back everything, digging the pain into a much softer part of you. Twisting your fingers in his, you gave them a soft squeeze. You watched for even the smallest twitch in his hand to squeeze back, until all at once, it wrapped around yours and held tight.

You traced up the hand’s wrist, arm, and to the worn face of Peter next to you, finding them already staring at you. The corner of his cut lips raised just slightly.

“So, you come here often?” he asked, his voice crackling and interrupted by small coughs.

You started to giggle, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face but instead let out a sharp groan as a shot of pain hit your ribs. “Ugh, I wish we didn’t come here so often,” you gritted out.

Browns of different shades swam in his irises, your eyes unable to escape the colors even when the room’s door swung open. It did nothing to break your contented gaze, having your Peter here, in your grasp.

But Tony’s voice finally got you both to look at him. “Ah, the lovebirds are back to normal then, I see.” Though his tone was teasing, his expression softened with a small smile.

“Not too normal. I’m starving,” Peter grumbled, his other hand gripping at his stomach. You made sure your laugh was lighter than before to protect your body from further damage, but the peaceful elation blooming in your chest ran free.

“Well, kid, it’s the same day. You were only out for 8 hours, so I should say I’m surprised you’re on the brink of starvation, but I’ve seen you eat before,” Tony joked, walking toward your beds. He brought a hand on both of your blanket-covered feet, patting it before saying, “I’ll order some food for you both, and leave you to rest — and you two better rest in here — but I thought I’d let you know the surgery to remove Peter’s robot chip went well, and you’ll both be fine.”

You heaved a deep sigh at the news. “And the robot guy? Did we get him?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

“Oh yeah, took real pleasure in breaking his jaw… though that was after I found you two and he was already handcuffed at that point.” Your jaw dropped slightly, eyes going wide. At your expression, he simply raised his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders. “What can I say? I can hold a grudge.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, giving a nod as his face tightened. Tony gave a solitary nod back to you both, clicking his tongue.

As Tony turned and began to leave the room, he muttered, “That guy calls himself a supervillain and can’t even design a permanent chip to imbed in someone’s skull” and shut the door, leaving the room in silence.

Your fingers tightened against Peter’s, knowing Tony tried to be lighthearted, but the memories of the day started sharpening into your brain, growing clearer with each gruesome detail remembered. The blood running down his face, the cracking of his nose, the screams he let out because of you.

Feeling your eyes begin to sting and chest tighten, you shakily said, “God, Peter, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” You brought your hands to rub down your face, pushing them against your scabbing skin. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Your head flew up out of your hands at grunts coming from Peter, his arms propping himself up into a seated position. His fingers came and wrapped themselves around your wrist, pulling your arms down and away as he said in a soft voice, “You did exactly what you were supposed to. I am so proud of what you did. I’m not sure I could’ve done the same… you’re so much braver than I could’ve ever been.”

A weak smile graced your face as you brought your head to rest against his shoulder. “I was just so scared,” you muttered against the hospital gown he wore, your eyes closing shut. “It’s like it wasn’t you anymore.”

At those words, Peter’s hold on you stiffened as you felt his body begin to shake. He brought you up to look at him straight. “You have to know I didn’t mean anything of what I said. And I am so so sorry for everything that stupid chip made me do.”

You dropped your hands and your gaze to where your fingertips picked at a fraying thread of the hospital blanket. A hard swallow passed down your throat before you uttered, “I know. It’s just…”

“Just what?” he asked, his eyes looking back and forth from one eye to the other, his eyebrows scrunched together. The glassy look he wore made your words taste a bit more bitter.

“Maybe it was right, Peter. That you were always thinking those things and never had the guts to tell me before. I mean, look at us.” You gestured between the two of you, between the history of your relationship that always felt far from perfect.

His hands moved once again, burning a trail up your arms and to your cheeks to wrap around your jaw. “I am looking at us, and I see us. I see you. That chip only made me say what it thought would hurt you. I love you so much,” he said, his voice breaking at the end.

Your own words shook as you returned, “I love you forever, Tiger.”

His forehead came to rest against yours, your breaths mingling in the sterile air of that hospital room. “And if I ever say something like that to you,” he said, a grin growing across his face, “feel free to stab me again.”

Despite the pounding in your body, you let a belly-shaking laugh roll through you. You couldn’t quite believe he was here, and he’d never doubted the hard parts of your relationship. That loving you was just as easy as loving Peter. Which reminded you…

“So, Tony said we hadn’t been out that long,” you whispered, a smile joining his. “So, that must mean it’s still our anniversary, right?”

A light gasp escaped Peter’s mouth, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, you know what that means,” he said, his body pulling away from yours as he tilted his head up at the ceiling. Yet, his eyes never left yours, bringing a growing heat to your cheeks. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., please turn on Star Wars and tell Mr. Stark to order some popcorn, please.”

“Will do, Mr. Parker,” the voice said overhead.

“Oh, and pancakes!” you whispered, nudging Peter with your elbow.

“Oh and some pancakes F.R.I.D.A.Y., please!”

“Will do, Mr. Parker,” it repeated.

With the promise of warm food and favorite movies, Peter pushed your body farther on the bed, shooing you to one side. Tilting your head at him, you merely accommodated his strangeness and scooted over. You just giggled as he moaned and groaned while shifting his body from his bed to yours.

Though the wires pulled a bit and probably tangled, he brought you into his arms, holding you tight against him like you’d never be apart again. You thought you wouldn’t mind that too much as his calm breaths bobbed your head up and down. A New Hope began to play on the med center TV, and Peter read out the scrolling text and recited the opening lines of C3PO. All you did was smile against his chest, a missed giddiness floating between the two of you.

“Happy anniversary,” he said in between scenes, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

Despite the softness of the moment, you kept your eyes open and on Peter, unwilling to miss a second of this day with him. In a whisper, sweet words given to the universe and Peter, which might have been the same thing, you said, “Happy anniversary.”

@reidslovely

A/N: Thank you again for reading <3 I really hope you liked it, and I love hearing your thoughts!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker angst #Tom holland #Spider-Man #mcu #mcu spiderman #marvel #tasm peter parker x you

525 notes · View notes

foreverrogers · 3 years ago

Text

bite the hand that feeds needs me

Pairing: sub!tasm!peter parker x f!reader

Summary: so maybe peter stops pulling his punches. and maybe he gets a little rageful, and a little bitter. and maybe sometimes he comes to you to repent.

Warnings: smut!!!!! 18+!!! unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), facesitting, choking, degredation kinda, sub/dom dynamics, safe word needs to be used, no reference to but strong allusion to gwen's death, solidly angsty undertones (happy ending), brief hurt/comfort

Words: 4.3k

A/N: based vaguely off of THAT nwh scene. i started this fic 2 months ago and now i truly don't know what to do with myself. cry? rejoice? stare at a wall for a couple hours? probably all of the above. full disclosure pretty sure this is the filthiest thing i have ever created so... enjoy ;)

i am apparently unable to name my fics anything other than lucy dacus songs, so title courtesy of bite the hand by boygenius

request something! masterlist

It's a rhythmic tap. Once, twice, and then a third in quick succession, matches the steady patter of rain against the metal of your fire escape and the concrete below.

"Morning, stranger."

You try to bring a lightness to it, even though you know just as well as he does that nothing good ever brings him to your window at 1am.

He tries, at least, gives you the faintest of smiles, already flushed and a little abashed as he haphazardly tosses his mask somewhere to the side.

Standing in your bedroom, Spider-Man is drenched to the bone. The tight spandex of his suit almost sags with it, starts to soak through your carpet where he stands, and the soggy flop of his hair would almost be cute if it weren't for that look in his eye. It's a look you're familiar with, all slanted lines and clouded eyes. Tonight, it's accompanied by a dark split in his lip and a blooming bruise at the peak of his cheekbone, sits right above the light scruff along his jaw.

He's still handsome despite it, maybe even a little because of it, a torturously beautiful boy with the saddest eyes you've ever seen who gets to be yours for a couple hours a week. In the back of your mind, you start the clock.

"You're bleeding." That's the second thing you notice, past the far-off expression, the dark crimson that's stained part of the blue fabric at his side. Your hand grazes the spot, notices the webbed material is still fully intact, lacks a scrape or a gash that would indicate a wound underneath.

Peter flinches at the contact, but not because it hurts. "It's not my blood."

You weren't naive. You had read the articles, witnessed through mugshots and secondary sources the steady decline of New York's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. He hadn't been so friendly, as of late, leaving bad guys with injuries that couldn't always be healed.

It doesn't stop the city from needing him, for abetting him, loving him out of necessity if nothing else.

You weren't naive. You knew the man you let into your bed— or at least you knew him better than most people could claim. You knew him well enough to know that being needed took its toll on him.

You try to read his eyes, are met only by a cold distance, a safe distance. It's something else you've gotten used to.

You try to counteract it, by any means, hand gentle on his cheek, careful not the brush over the dark bruise when you lean up to kiss him. "You sure you don't need anything?"

"Just you," He mumbles, hides it between kisses, slips an arm around your waist to tug you towards him.

Peter kisses you like kissing you is all he can do. There's something almost sombre about it, the knowledge that he comes to you to forget, to escape the numbness, to be someone without expectations.

Even still, you can't help the way being pressed against him like this makes you smile, mostly because this early in the night, before you've gotten into the worst of why he's here, he returns the gesture.

Peter presses curved lips to your jaw, trails down the column of your throat until you tilt your head to the side. "What'cha smiling about?"

"Nothing," You breathe, and now your arms are sliding around his neck, a hand tangled loosely in the damp strands of his hair. There's a pinch at the crook of your neck, a quick nip to pull out the truth. "Just missed you, 's all. Didn't think I would see you this week."

Peter's biting the inside of his lip when he pulls back to look at you, the perpetual crease between his eyebrows a little deeper than it had been before. You should have known better by now than to bring feelings into this, even if it was as simple as an I missed you. You knew you had no entitlement to his time, to the rarity and the beauty of this boy who always retreats back into himself when you reach too close. If he felt that way about you, he would have told you his name.

He's trying to look for something to say, and so you say it for him. "Forget I said anything," You smile, shake your head, try to draw him back out, and when your lips find his again it's deeper, heavier, gives him a taste of what he's here for. "Just c'mere."

The dampness of his suit has already soaked through the front of your pyjamas, so when you settle him onto the bed and climb into his lap your shirt is the first thing the go.

The webbed fabric is rough along your skin, hands at your waist pressing you close. Your own hands slip underneath the hem of his suit, tug and roll it up just enough so you can feel bare skin against your fingertips, heat rising through the dampness.

Peter does the rest of the work, peels off the top of his suit until there's nothing but warm, taut muscle under you. Your hands travel the rest of the way up, take their time lingering until one slips loosely around his throat.

The position forces him to tilt his head up, open towards you.

"This what you want?" You ask, don't need the gentle nod he gives to know the answer. This is always what he wants. This is why he comes here, to give the power to someone else for a night, to feel it sting like a soft hand wrapped firmly around his throat, to repent for the things that overtake him.

You can feel him beneath you, breathing heavy and straining through the tightness of his pants, and so you bring your free hand down to press your palm against the growing bulge.

"Do you remember the safeword?" Is your second question, and your tone has changed in an instant, talk down to him in that way you know he craves.

"Red," He mutters, too far gone in studying your face to think about it too hard. He tries to kiss you then, leans in and finds himself stopped by the tightening of your hand around his throat. There's a thrum of a quiet moan underneath your hold, the twitch of pressure beneath your other hand.

"And if it's too much?" You give a light squeeze to demonstrate, feel the three taps, rhythmic, in quick succession against your hand. "Good boy."

He worships you like this. You, bare and willing and kind, always kind, even with a hand wrapped around his throat. You, who makes the most of the little he gives you and still manages to make him forget, who never asks questions, who gives everything you have to this man who needs you.

Your hand is at the waist of his suit now, slipping under to graze the hair that graces his lower abdomen, yet to dip low enough to find the place he needs you the most.

"Have you been good for me this week, sweetheart?" He shakes his head, gasps at the feeling of you taking him in your hand, mouth hanging in a perfect gape. "Is that right? Do you need to be punished?"

"Need to be punished," He whispers, tries to use the limited leeway the stretch of his suit gives to buck up into your hand.

You tsk, bite your lip as the withdrawal of your hand earns a heady whine from the back of his throat. "What would people think if they saw you like this? Spider-Man powerless, all needy for me." You're barely touching him now, fingertips light brushing against the clothed bulge of him as you palm him through his suit. And then your leaning in, lips brushing just over his. "Pathetic."

There's a rush of warm breath against your lips, a long-held breath released. When he tries to kiss you this time you let him, taste his desperation in the eagerness of it.

You hum in approval when you pull away, hand at his neck slowly sliding up until you have a firm grasp of his chin. "Why don't you start by letting me ruin this pretty face?"

He nods, seems too busy staring at your lips and leaning forward to catch them in another short, heated kiss to convey anything intelligible.

"Need you to say yes for me, honey."

"Yes," He mutters, hot and breathy. "Please."

"There you go. Good boy," You smile, hands on his shoulders now, urging him down. "Lie down for me, sweetheart."

You kneel up as he slides his way down your headboard, head against the pillow as you shuffle out of your panties.

His hands are on you as soon as you're bare to him, soft at first, so carefully slip up the sides of your thighs before resting at the small of your back. The look in his eyes asks permission, asks to grip harder and guide you up until your cunt is only inches away from his mouth, and you're all too happy to nod your approval.

Peter doesn't believe he's a good person, but if he can't be good the least he can do is make you feel good, dedicate himself to this one cause that could never be bad.

Sinful, maybe, but not bad. There could never be anything bad about the way your body reacts to his mouth, hot and hungry and unrelenting as his tongue slides firmly over your clit. You're not afraid to rock against him, circle your hips as you chase that high, the one that seems to push you higher and higher every time you're together, sends you falling with the same heat as a meteor burning through the stratosphere.

Peter's been dedicated to your pleasure for long enough that he already knows your body like the back of his hand, your inner workings admired and mastered, knows just what to do with his tongue and his lips and his grip to have your legs shaking around him.

He knows the cues, too, knows that your fingers tangling through his hair and your shallow gasps and the flexing of your thighs tightly around his face means you're close.

It's times like this that he wishes he had the nerve to tell you his name. Because the mask⁠—sure, the mask had been a fluke⁠, but the sound of you moaning his name as you cum might actually be the thing he would risk it all for.

For now, he settles for the string of profanities that resonate around the room as you tremble in his hands. You're proof that he can still put them to good use, his hands, that they're still capable of more than just rage, that they can still pull something beautiful out of you.

And it is beautiful here, what you create together, even if it's raw, greedy, rough around the edges.

You're breathing heavily above him, kneeling back up onto shaky legs. He leans up on one elbow as you slowly slide down his chest, settling firmly back in his lap.

He's even harder than he was before, if that's possible, can almost feel him aching where he presses up into you and soaks a dark patch into his suit.

You laugh a little when you look at him, at the mess that slips down his chin, breathe it into a sigh as you fight your way through the haze of your orgasm. "'s impossible," You start, smiling, lean forward with one hand on his chest as you wipe his bottom lip dry with two fingers. "You're even prettier now."

He opens his mouth, expectant of your next move, can't help the strangled moan that slips from his lips as you sit back and place the digits onto your own tongue. It tastes like him, and like you, like sweat and sin. "Y/n..."

You smile again, release your fingers with a strong pop before licking your lips, seemingly satisfied by his reaction. "Go on, Spidey. Tell me what you want."

"Want you to fuck me."

"Oh, yeah?" His boldness only spurs you on, has you leaning forward so you can wrap your hand lightly over his throat, use the leverage to tilt his face to the side and kiss along his jaw. "Want it rough?" A quick nip, a blooming love bite soon soothed by the heat of your tongue. You tighten your grip just a little, just because you can, slip down so he can feel warm breath against his ear when you speak. "Want me to use you?"

"Please," He breathes, looks just as far gone as he sounds when you pull away to smirk at him.

"Well, since you asked so nicely... C'mere and help me take this off." He doesn't need to be asked twice, sits up and catches you in a kiss so quickly it makes you gasp, melts into a giggle once you lean into it. One arm around your waist, his other hand helps you drag down the bottom of his suit, pulls away his boxers in the same struggled movement.

When you're both finally bare a hand resting on his chest pushes him flat onto the mattress, and you bite your lip as you slowly slip it down, nails grazing tantalizingly lightly down his stomach until he's sitting heavy in your hand.

"Y/n," He mewls, the second whine of your name in a matter of minutes, and the way the sound makes your walls flutter around nothing is enough for you to give up on any further teasing you had planned.

"I like it when you beg," You mutter, and then you're kneeling again, settling yourself in the right position so you can sink onto his cock in one achingly slow motion.

Peter fills you up like nothing else ever can, just makes you miss him even more on nights with just you and your fingers and memories of these fleeting entanglements, the way he moulds against you and so easily finds those spots you can never reach.

"Fuck, always feel so good, honey." You savour it all, the stretch and the heat, didn't realise you had closed your eyes until your opening them to see that slack expression on his face.

A gasp makes his mouth fall agape with the first movement of your hips, the tight pinch of his eyebrows as you start to rock against him.

There's still something missing, though, an element of your arrangement you seem to forget until he's slipping his hand over the one still resting on his chest, urging it upward with a light pressure.

The movement of your hips picks up at the reminder, makes him tighten his grip on your hip with a strangled moan that's soon cut off by your hand slotting over his neck. It still turns you on, after all this time, that you're the one person that gets to see him like this, the vulnerability in each movement and each reaction.

Peter's a different person when he's with you. With what he wants, what he asks for, he thinks he's worse. But he also thinks you might make him better.

But it's thinking like that which encroaches on dangerous territory for Peter, like he might try to start scaling the walls he built up for his own good, makes him chase the one thing he knows can drown out thoughts too dangerous to indulge.

His hand is back over yours, but around his throat this time, forces you to tighten your grip while his other hand encourages the rocking of your body.

"Hey, just loosen up a little, okay?" Peter doesn't seem to hear you, presses and presses and squeezes your hand so tightly around his throat that it starts to hurt. You can tell that it's hurting him, too, that the pain is what he's looking for, eyebrows pinched together and a deep red flush blooming across his face. You try to pull away, but his grip is too strong. "Just- Spidey, stop, you're hurting me, just- Red!"

You're so lost in the searing pleasure of it all that you don't notice that he hasn't let go until it stings, until the pressure compressing your hand against his throat starts to throb.

It seems to finally snap him out of it, lets his hand fall away and you withdraw your own as soon as you can.

He sits up lightning-fast, gasps at the sudden access to airflow as he rubs at his throat, hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd taken a breath. He tries to speak, finds only a sharp cough there.

His lap is empty, feels the dip of the mattress and the warmth of you at his side, an arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders as he brings his knees up to his chest. "Hey," You whisper, movement of your hand soothing, gently rubbing back and forth along his bicep. "It's okay, you're okay."

"I'm sorry... Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't-" He looks at you, finally, and you meet him with so much concern in your eyes it cuts him off. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You feel the drop, the heaviness of your heart sinking to your stomach, faced so closely by that broken look in his eye, the guilt there, the remorse. "You didn't hurt me, it's- Hey." Peter's dipped his head, and you bring both hands up to cup his face, bring his eyes back to yours. You have to take a moment to swallow the lump in your throat. "I know that you don't... Come here to talk about things. But if you ever do... Want to. Just know that I want to listen."

The twist is a slow one, the pinch of his eyebrows and his deep-set frown and the clench of his jaw, and you think you might see the prick of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes before he's digging his face into the crook of your neck, sturdy arms wrapped around you.

You've never hugged before.

Above everything you've done together, seen the glimmering worst of each other and felt the pain and the pleasure of it as one, this might be the most intimate moment you've ever had.

Peter breathes you in, deep, shuddering breaths against the warmth of you skin, and you hold him just as tightly as he's holding you. Like you never want to let go. Like this is what you're bodies we made for, to slot together like this.

Peter thinks it's dangerous how familiar you feel, overwhelms his senses with a soothing warmth. He thinks it's dangerous how he wants to keep this feeling, the comfort over the pain, how he wants to stay.

"I should go."

Peter's pulling away, in every sense of the phrase, refuses to look at you as he untangles your limbs. "Hey," You start, catch lightly at his wrist, makes him look down at the contact before he's meeting your eyes. "Why don't you stay tonight?"

He sighs, dips his head back down and swallows, thinks if he looks at you you'll see how much he wants to say yes.

Your hand is still on his wrist, anchoring him, keeping him from dispersing into the night, everywhere and nowhere and lingering in your walls like smoke. "We don't have to do anything, or say anything, we can just-" You let go, let your hand cup his cheek and bring his gaze back up to yours. "I don't want you to be alone tonight."

Peter looks at you, at the way you're looking at him, and feels like he's being ripped apart from the inside, tugged in two different directions, both equally wrong, both equally essential, like the repulsion of two polar forces.

There's a tipping point there, though, somewhere in the depths of your worried eyes, one that makes the decision for him before he can think about the consequences.

-----

Peter has never been this comfortable in his life.

The late morning sun paints everything in a bright yellow, a hazy cellophane filter as he takes in his surroundings. Your room looks different in the light of day, no more shadows melting everything into an amalgamation of vague shapes in the dark.

And then there's you, wrapped around him, a puzzle piece slotted firmly into his side, warms him through with a blooming ache at every contact of bare skin. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in the sunlight.

You don't open your eyes, simply feel the steadiness of his chest under your arm and nuzzle deeper into his side. "You stayed."

Peter smiles down at you, can't help it, slowly grazes a finger over your cheek. "Thank you for letting me." And it's sincere, the gratitude in his voice.

You shift slowly then, try to lean against his chest and squint up at him. "Fuck, it's bright," You mutter, close your eyes and dip your head to escape the light.

He laughs, music to your ears, a steady rumble you can feel through his whole body. You can't remember the last time you heard him laugh.

You're a little more successful when you look back up at him, match the faint remnants of a smile you find on his face. For a moment, you let yourself bask in the image of him, bright and smiling and warm in your arms. When you remember the events of the night before, it's unwillingly. "Do you want to talk about last night, or..."

Peter sighs, the sinking of his chest beneath you, closes his eyes as he lets his head fall back to the pillow.

"Hey, we don't have to," You attempt, prop yourself up against his chest, splayed hand resting over his heart steadying, makes him tilt his head against the pillow to look at you. You smile at him. "We could talk about... The weather, or... Crime? Or..."

There's a steady rumble under you body, the deep growl of Peter's stomach.

"Breakfast?"

Peter grins at you. As in, smiles with his whole face, all crinkling eyes and dimples and teeth, and it makes your heart ache so much you have to stop looking at him, lean up and kiss that stupidly beautiful grin off of his stupidly beautiful face.

You stay like that for a long moment, savouring this newfound gentleness. He doesn't feel so much like smoke in your hands anymore, constantly on the verge of slipping away. He feels a little more corporeal under your touch, like maybe it was your touch that was keeping him solid in the first place. "I'll go get breakfast ready."

You smile at him, pull away as you sit up and move towards the edge of the bed. But Peter doesn't want to let you go just yet, even if you're only threatening to walk a couple feet into your kitchen, isn't willing to go back to existing discretely like you had before. "Hey," He starts, voice soft and fond, still a little laden with sleep as he catches your wrist. You turn back to him, give him this wide, expectant expression as you wait for him to continue that almost melts him on the spot. "You're too nice to me, you know. I don't deserve it."

You sigh, shuffle back towards him so you can cup his cheek in your hand. "Yes, you do," You say, matter of fact, lean close to look him right in the eye, make sure he understands just what you're trying to tell him. "Everybody deserves a little kindness sometimes, Spidey."

"Peter," He corrects, lets it hang in the air for a moment, wraps around the silence of your surprised expression. "Parker. My name's Peter."

It's a bridge, you think. A broken one, built up with planks others had ripped away long before you met him, but it's a bridge nonetheless, and he's offered it to you willingly, hopefully. It's not a bridge the whole way there, but you think it might just be enough to jump to the other side. You smile at him, watch him sit up as you hold out your hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Peter."

You're aware of it, in the back of your mind, that you're two half-naked people in your bed shaking hands. But right beside that thought is the clock you started as soon as he crawled through your window, marks almost ten hours and counting. The most you had ever gotten out of him before was three.

His eyebrows are pinched together when he looks at you, a sullen expression you're used to. His voice is small when he speaks. "I don't know if I believe that."

Neither of you pulls away, warmth of bare skin against bare skin, and so you let your joined hands fall to the mattress beneath you. You watch him look down, to where he's started rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand. "You're a good person, you know?"

"It doesn't matter if you believe it." You shake your head, give him a resigned shrug and surprise him by smiling, wide and bright and maybe just a little bit convincing. You kneel up then, still smiling, still shaking your head as you crawl into his lap. His face is in your hands. "Because I believe it. And I can believe it enough for the both of us... For now... If you're willing to let me. If you're willing to let me show you how good you are."

There's something in his eyes you can't quite place as he looks up at you. It's something new, all quiet and adoring, almost reverential, awestruck and awe-inspiring all at once. It's something you could get used to, you think, finding all the different ways Peter Parker could be utterly beautiful. "Okay," He whispers, like he believes it.

"Good," You breathe, nod, smile into the soft kiss you offer him. "After breakfast."

request something! masterlist

762 notes · View notes

takenbypeter · 2 years ago

Text

AVENGERS/MCU MASTERLIST PART 1

(Click here for part 2)

BUCKY BARNES

B.B.

Shivering

Don’t Wait Up

In The Rain

A Way To Destress

Rough Day

Texting On The Job

Keep Your Friends Close

To-Do

No Apologies Needed

Healing While Hurting

More Than My Abilities

Singing Together

Magic Fort

Truth Or Drink

“Can I Come Over and Pet Your Dog?”

First Impressions

Anything to Make Him Smile

Anything to Make You Smile

Anything For You Two

The Counsel Given

Together Through It All

LOKI LAUFEYSON

Tired Of Hiding

First Encounter

Drunken Dance

Filled With Worry

You Make It Better

Don’t Make Me Late

Prevention Of Injury

World’s Greatest Cookies

Unintentional Fond Looks

What We Think

Deserving of Love

Green Is A Pretty Color On You

Priorities First

You Were Missed

PETER PARKER (MCU)

No More Secrets

My Secret To Keep

In Sickness and In Health

The Little Things

Date Night and Burnt Pastries

Game Over

Accident Aftermath

Are We Normal?

For Him

Pretty Boy

CatCalling

SCOTT LANG

From Pretend To Real

Dance The Night Away

Accident…or not?

Revenge Of The Egg

Thor

Long Time, No Hair

Allergy Season

Work Blues

A Brush A Day

Himbo Number Two

Incorrect Marvel Quotes

Incorrect quote #1

156 notes · View notes

themculibrary · 1 year ago

Text

Worried Masterlist

A Fast but Steady Heartbeat (ao3) - spooderboyandtincan N/R, 1k

Summary: Peter, Tony and Rhodey are enjoying their afternoon at a restaurant until the building and their food explodes.

Bright Eyes (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight clint/tony T, 3k

Summary: After being hurt in a fight, Tony ends up temporarily blind and tries to hide it from the team so they don’t worry.

Clint is the only one to notice, and an honest conversation between the two about exactly how much Tony matters to the team leads to unexpected kisses.

Bloom in a Garden of Love (ao3) - hopelessly_me bucky/clint T, 5k

Summary: Bucky's holding on to a weird secret- for some reason he keeps coughing up rose petals. He thinks maybe he can hide it until events take a terrifying turn.

By Your Side (ao3) - SerendipityRed (SerendipityBlue) G, 3k

Summary: After Peter is forced to lift the fallen building after homecoming, he has to deal with the aftermath of the injuries that he’s received.

Peter Parker being the stubborn bean that he is, doesn’t tell anyone.

But the injuries are revealed after an accident in the lab.

Enter protective Tony, Steve, Bucky, Thor, Bruce, and Loki.

can you save my heavy dirt soul? (ao3) - streetlight_skeletons steve/bucky N/R, 1k

Summary: Bucky can't breathe and they won't shut up

Casualty of war (ao3) - wolfypuppypiles M, 22k

Summary: Peter got knocked down in Civil War, but when Tony went to check on the baby Avenger, he realized he was more badly hurt than first realized.

There wasn't meant to be any casualties, but there always is in war.

Elevator Freeway (ao3) - awesomesockes, whumphoarder T, 1k

Summary: Delirious and bleeding out from a gunshot wound, Peter struggles to describe his location to a very worried Tony.

Five Bullets And Nineteen Hours (ao3) - thefatedthoughtofyou sam/bucky G, 2k

Summary: Bucky gets hurt, badly, protecting Sam on a mission.

Hey Mr Stark, I'm Trapped Under A Building (ao3) - Kryi T, 1k

Summary: Peter's on evacuation duty, he was trying to get as many people out of the building as fast as possible. But something happens and he slips into unconsciousness.

Safe and Sound (ao3) - onthesandsofdreams pepper/tony T, 1k

Summary: She feels off kilter, unsure for the first time in a very long time. She should go. She should go downstairs, let Tony know that she was going home (or the office) and leave. But, she finds that she doesn’t want to, he has just returned and it doesn’t take a genius to know that he has suffered. That thing in his chest speaks louder than anything Tony might say.

Scream out loud like never before (ao3) - Carlet phil/melinda M, 33k

Summary: From philindaprompts on Tumblr: "Ward never really got his hands on May to 'make' her pay for breaking his larynx, chasing him down, Agent 33, etc."

Mid season 3, minus the whole Hive thing. Ward kidnaps and tortures May with the intent of making her pay for his suffering, proving that not even the infamous Melinda May was indestructible.

Taking Care of... (ao3) - orphan_account G, 6k

Summary: It's time for the obligatory sick/comfort fic!

Chapter 1: Rhodey is sick but don't worry, his best friend Tony is there to take care of him.

Chapter 2: Tony is sick but don't worry, his best friend Rhodey is there to take care of him.

Thank the Watchmaker (ao3) - ThatMadHatter clint/phil T, 11k (WIP)

Summary: “Natasha. Barton’s been compromised.” Phil’s voice did not hitch slightly at the word compromised. He was fucking Agent Phil Coulson. His voice did not betray emotion. Even when telling his boyfriend’s best friend that said boyfriend was compromised.

Or the one where Phil and Clint are together before The Avengers and the author rewrites things with that in mind.

you heal me like the light of day (ao3) - searchingforstars T, 9k

Summary: or, Peter tries to hide a stab wound and an infection-fuelled fever is never any fun. Also, it turns out that Beck is still lurking in Peter's mind much more than anyone realised.

You're Not Alone (You Have Us) (ao3) - Rascalisafatcat clint/phil, pepper/tony T, 2k

Summary: When his daughter gets sick with the flu Coulson leaves a debrief to go take care of her, the Avengers soon find out and they come to his rescue.

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #worried #worried masterlist

6 notes · View notes

jahayla-parker · 2 years ago

Text

Crushing Plans: Peter Parker x Reader

Part Five

Description: 4.2k wc, Crushing Plans part 5, y/n has a crush on her bestfriend Peter but he’s interested in their friend MJ. Meanwhile Peter and Y/n have to decide if they want the responsibility that comes with their powers (while also trying to keep these powers a secret). To make matters worse, y/n’s powers are impacted by her emotions; including jealousy. How will their class trip to Europe go with all of this going on?

Warnings (for series as a whole): Mention of injuries, villains, far from home spoilers?, evil, witches, magic, powers/abilities, jealousy, hurt-comfort, I think that’s it!

Click Here For Previous Parts and Series Masterlist (5 parts plus the story continues in Bewitched Love (No Way Home wip w/ the same characters as a story continuation)

When they arrived, Mysterio’s display was already in effect; Happy was very surprised it wasn’t real.

Peter glanced y/n’s way once more, nodding at her before slipping his mask on as he exited the plane.

Y/n could hear Peter’s voice through the earpiece in Happy’s ear, but not enough to know what he said.

She watched as he swung closer to the projection.

Happy seemed to be promising Peter he was doing -or perhaps would be doing- whatever it was Peter had said.

Y/n beamed as she watched Peter already making headway in his fight.

~~~

“You’ve come to your senses” Agatha grinned wickedly.

Y/n focused her thoughts on Peter liking MJ, allowing Agatha to only see her emotional pain and assume it was the reason she was now complying.

“I’m still worried” y/n stated, suppressing a grin at how convincing her tone was.

“Of course you are sweet child, how can I help?” Agatha said, unrealistically sweetly.

Yn glanced around the park to get her bearings but let Agatha believe it was over fear of others learning her secret.

The fact she was donning a mask worked in her favor to convince Agatha.

Her mask should be appearing to Agatha as a bland, white, scrappily made disguise; thanks to an easy image modification spell Y/n had cast on it.

But, in reality, it was a radiant azure blue; Peter managed to adjust the hue on the Stark product generator enough to match her cosmic glow coloring exactly.

Her clothes should be seen by Agatha as the same set y/n wore when they last saw each other; Yn not wasting energy or time constructing some new fake outfit just for a distraction.

Much like her actual mask, her actual outfit was azure, fit to her in a way that allowed her to move, and had discrete padding on her knees should she collapse again.

Her clothing included a contrasting dark black cloak-like item, one merging the designs of other witches; Agatha and Wanda included.

Except, the bottom inner workings of hers, the side presently resting against the back of her legs, was a shiny silver lining, embossed with swirling stitching.

“If I… if I let you have my powers, how do I know I’ll survive?” Y/n asked, hiding her thoughts as she began calling upon her energy.

“Oh hun, you have my word” Agatha said.

Not wanting to give in uncharacteristically fast, y/n hesitated.

“I did tell you the truth about your origin didn’t I? Why would I admit that but lie now?” Agatha argued with a soft voice.

Y/n knew the reason but kept the thought from her mind.

“Okay…” y/n slowly agreed.

Agatha smiled but Yn saw the evil glint in her dark irises.

As she felt Agatha’s cosmic presence reach hers, y/n whispered “pari mensura” before having her mind wander back to her unrequited crush on Peter.

She bit her lip as she kept her lips from moving and exposing her nearly inaudible spell repetition.

The pain also helped subconsciously remind her that there was a purpose behind the torture of her own mind she was doing by focusing on her doomed situation with Peter.

pari mensura

....

pari mensura

Y/n echoed, encouraging and directing her energy heading towards Agatha to match the force Agatha was using.

Agatha fell for the sensation, believing that she was truly pulling the energy from y/n; rather than y/n sending it to her.

It wasn’t an easy task, keeping her confidence up despite replaying Peter and MJ’s flirtations.

Let alone simultaneously hiding these underlying thoughts, her mind having to both actively think and not think at the same time.

She still couldn’t explain it, but she could feel the thoughts almost filed into different places in her brain.

She’d never compartmentalized her thoughts this way before, much less in so many different subjects at the same time for such a long period of time.

She had to pretend she was thinking about MJ and Peter but not truly think about it.

She had to hide her thoughts about her actions and newly found confidence.

She had to pretend she was thinking about how it felt to have her powers pulled from her while being sure to not truly believe the illusion herself.

It was a lot, and her underlying concerns over how things were going on Peter’s end didn’t help.

She wanted to quickly look over to see how it was coming, but she knew she couldn’t risk the brief lapse in concentration.

Especially as she already felt the ache in her head returning at her attempts.

While Agatha wasn’t truly absorbing y/N’s energy, y/n had knowingly gone into the battle on a nearly empty basis.

Technically speaking, witches had an almost infinite supply of cosmic energy at their disposal.

However, it took much more energy to produce it without thinking about it.

And even more to actively focus on something else while using it.

It didn’t help that it took practice to get to the point of being able to utilize the endless access to energy waves; practice y/n didn’t have.

She felt her eyes droop as Agatha increased her strength, somehow having noticed something was off.

Irritated, y/n wanted to scream, having been nearly ready to strike Agatha prior to this sudden detection from Agatha’s end.

Her illusion was faltering and she would soon lose her chance to strike if she didn’t quickly adjust.

Y/n attempted to once again match her force by sending her own equally balanced force back, “pari mensura”.

She hadn’t realized that she forgot to keep her voice low when reciting the spell until she saw the fury in Agatha’s eyes.

It was too late to put her defenses up by the time she saw it, but fortunately, Peter had detected it.

His spider senses had tingled in an attempt to alert him to an issue around him.

He instantly scanned the area in search of y/n, his webs shooting across the street and toward the park in mere seconds upon seeing y/n’s genuine struggle.

The signs of Agatha’s realization of the illusion soon followed his release of web fluid.

Peter squinted as he waited for the seemingly long time it took for his webs to reach Agatha.

To anyone else, it was merely a matter of 2 seconds; feeling longer to Peter due to the scene being slowed down by his ‘spidey senses’,

As the webs wrapped around Agatha’s wrist, y/N’s panicked eyes turned his way.

Peter tugged on the web attached to his subject, trying to knock Agatha off kilter enough for y/n to compose herself.

Y/n forced her legs to hold her tired body steady as she pushed back against Agatha, starting to increase her force.

She wasn’t sure how much more she could do though.

Agatha’s detection was earlier than y/n had anticipated, or perhaps y/n hesitated too long to strike.

Either way, it wasn’t going to plan and her confidence was weaning as a result.

Peter having to step in and help her despite his own battle going on fueled her embarrassment and disappointment in herself.

She knew she had to change her thought patterns if she wanted to have a chance at overpowering Agatha; she had to regain her confidence somehow.

Once her legs felt semi-steady beneath her, y/n glanced over at Peter in hopes of an encouraging smile or nod to drive her confidence back up.

However, her eyes were instead met with a burst of energy shooting across the scene and throwing Peter backward into the brick siding of the bridge.

Y/n felt a sudden force deep in her bones, it had a slightly familiar feeling to it but was otherwise an unknown sensation.

The sheer volume of cosmic current flowing through her body lifted y/n into the air.

Y/N’s spell that’d previously been masking her new ‘hero’ suit dissolved before Agatha’s eyes.

Without any hesitation, y/n let the new, stronger, faster, thicker, flow of energy do as it wished.

The only thing her mind focused on was having witnessed Agatha hurt Peter.

Y/N’s eyes fell closed as the current tore through her and shot across the park to Agatha.

Agatha howled loudly as her skin flashed blue, y/N’s energy hiting deep.

Yn pried her eyes open enough to check on Peter, giving him a grateful nod before turning back to Agatha.

She could tell if she kept going at full force, it would be the end of Agatha.

And as much as she wanted to tear her apart for harming Peter, it wasn’t in her to kill someone.

Y/n was pleasantly surprised when her energy ebbed at her unspoken limitation.

She might not plan on ending Agatha’s life, but she was going to make sure Agatha was no longer a threat.

Y/n didn’t want, nor did she think she needed, Agatha’s energy.

Even if she relished the feeling of such a strong force inside herself, she didn’t want any possibly tainted cosmic energy in her.

So, she began contemplating spells that would keep her enemy alive but deplete her power.

“Vivit et impotens” y/n stated, frowning when nothing happened.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself she could do this.

Staring at Agatha, hands stretched out to her, “vivit et impotens”.

Once again, nothing.

She racked her brain for more traditional ways to say her goal.

Chest held high, she loudly declared, “reducendus au homini”.

Y/N’s fingers stiffened as a dark aura flowed between Agatha and y/N’s hand.

She gritted her jaw as she focused on directing her own energy to shield herself from any damage and form an orb in her outstretched palm.

Within three minutes, y/n stood on the ground, holding a black and purple ball of cosmic forces in her palm.

Agatha lay on the grass, visibly defeated and weeping in sorrow over her loss; but, she was alive.

Pleased in completing her task so quickly, she gazed at the ball as she contemplated how to destroy it.

Y/n felt a sweltering heat radiating from the orb and saw the very tips of her fingernails starting to darken from the insidious and dark power Agatha’d absorbed in her attempt at managing the darkhold.

Without needing to search for the words, her mind began chanting a spell she wasn’t familiar with.

In its attempt to guard y/n and her untainted energy, her mind screamed “eliminate ab existentia”.

After five repetitions of the phrase, y/n saw her fingertips return to normal as a burst of blue energy erupted, blinding her momentarily.

Y/n rubbed her eyes and smiled proudly to herself.

However, her focus quickly shifted to finding Peter.

As she whipped her head around, her eyes landed on Peter.

He let out a visible sigh of relief and slightly slowed his approach to ease the pain in his leg.

Despite his attempts to mask his pain, y/n noticed his limp and rushed over.

Peter smiled as he hugged her, pulling her to his chest as soon as she was close enough.

“You’re hurt” she whispered, stepping back after a few moments.

“I’m okay, it’s over” he huffed, eyes checking her face for any cuts.

“Can I… May I…?” Y/n mumbled hesitatingly.

“Y/n, you don’t have to be nervous around me” Peter grinned, “what are you trying to ask?”

Y/n bit her lip, looking up at him sweetly, making his legs feel weak.

“I’d like to try a spell to help your leg” she stated.

“Is this okay?” She asked, stepping back more.

Peter nodded without hesitation, completely trusting her.

She smiled, squatting and delicately placing her right hand on his kneecap.

Her left hand shyly rested against his hip, intimidated by the intimate location.

Closing her eyes, she focused on keeping her energy warm enough to relax his muscles but not too hot to hurt him.

“Okay… lenire et confirma crus” y/n whispered, letting her energy flow from her hands into his upper leg.

Peter let out an audible release of air and Y/n felt the tension leave his leg muscles.

Yn removed her hands from his body and stood back up, smiling softly, “any better?”

Peter grinned widely and nodded, his cheeks red, “very. Thank you”.

She nodded timidly, her smile widening.

“And you? You’re not hurt?” Peter pondered, his slightly bloodstained hands cupping her face as he analyzed her skin closely.

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the warmth of his breath hitting her face and the close proximity of his lips to hers.

“Y/n?” Peter asked, stroking her cheek just below her eyemask when he found a faint blemish.

“I’m good,” she nodded, gazing into his painfully pretty, umber eyes.

Peter blushed as he noticed how close he was upon feeling himself relax after her assure she was unharmed.

“Thank you for your help back there” y/n said, waving to the park she left minutes before.

“It wasn’t a big deal” he smiled

“Yes it was, you got hurt, because of me” she shook her head as guilt flooded her voice.

“Y/n, I swear, I didn’t mind helping” he promised, voice thick with sincerity, “I wanted to make sure you were safe”.

“Because if you I was. You helped me more than you’ll know” she hummed.

Peter watched inquisitively as y/n’s eyes began to scan his mask, left to right and top to bottom.

“The blood… your hands. You said-“ she whispered, her voice tense.

“It’s not mine” he rushed out in assurance before repeating the words remorsefully as he felt their weight.

Y/n gave him an apologetic glance, “okay. We can talk about that if you want, when you’re ready”.

Peter nodded, “thank you. I could use that”.

She gave him a timid smile, but Peter noticed she kept scanning his face.

Peter looked around before pulling his mask up and off of his head, “I’m okay y/n”.

He felt his breath hitch as she furrowed her eyebrows, the tip of her middle finger slowly sending a calming warmth to seep in through his skin as her fingertip traced a minor scratch he had obtained in his fight.

Much to Peter’s disappointment, she soon leaned back, hand lowering to her side after the scratch disappeared.

Peter lifted his hand up to feel his skin where she’d touched it, a dorky smile on his face.

“Y/n,” Peter began, his need to confess his feelings shaking violently in his chest.

Y/n sensed something hanging in the air and sucked in a deep breath.

She noticed the gentle glow of his eyes and how he seemed to be radiating nervous but excited energy.

“Peter?” She asked, trying not to get her hopes up as to what he was going to say.

There was something in his gaze that made her melt, desperately hoping she was correct in seeing the love behind it.

Peter’s cheeks were nearly as red as his suit as he gave her a lopsided smile, mentally cursing himself for not pulling it together.

His hesitation made her look around, her heart plummeting to her stomach as she locked eyes with MJ several feet behind her.

MJ hadn’t noticed them, but it was clear Peter noticed her; his lovey-dovey trance now making sense to y/n.

“Oh, “ y/n breathed, taking her time as she turned back around to face Peter, “right. Umm, you can go”.

Peter’s lips parted as he stared at her with a blank expression.

Y/n rolled the rushing energy in her, picturing the blue life source loop over itself and flow in the other direction; moving along the lines of an imaginary infinity sign.

It was a technique she’d learned years ago to stay calm.

She hadn’t been in such a soul crushing situation where she needed it in a long time.

But her -albeit brief- moment of hope over her seemingly unrequited feelings actually being requited after all drove a stake into her soul as reality emerged.

Peter rubbed his neck, his eyes never leaving her face as he tried to understand why she suddenly appeared shut down, “y-y/n..”

She shook her head, wanting out of the situation rather than letting it drag on longer.

“Look, Peter… it’s okay, really” y/n said, causing Peter even more confusion.

Before he could even think of a response, she continued, “just..”.

Y/n let the calming resonance of the energy flowing in her remind her of her accomplishments today.

She may still have been in a hopelessly doomed position with her crush, but at least she could rely on him; and herself.

Allowing her confidence to drive her towards one final courageous act, y/n closed the distance between them.

Y/n way too quickly pressed her lips against his cheek and pulled away, “thank you again for helping”.

Peter’s teeth shined as he grinned like an idiot, his face felt so hot he swore he was going to catch on fire soon.

However, as y/n walked away from him, his lips instantly fell into a pout.

Without thinking, he reached for her hand, halting her departure, “where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

She couldn’t turn back to look at him, instead squeezing his hand kindly, “she’s waiting for you, go on”.

Peter tightened his grip and tugged on her hand, pleading her to turn around and explain, “who?”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to tear his hand off and run until she couldn’t feel his presence near her.

Not that her currently exhausted body would even let her if she asked.

“Y/n” Peter whined, lost and upset over her sudden change in demeanor, “talk to me”.

“MJ” y/n whispered, making a resounding rush of guilt surface in Peter.

He’d forgotten y/n had known a tiny bit about his plans to act on his feelings for MJ.

Her voice sounded sad and distant to him.

Had he not noticed she was seemingly harboring feelings for him too?

How long had they been there?

His mind played back the last week, his guilt only growing as he found all the signs he’d missed.

“Pe-“ y/n began, finally facing him.

“No, please, “ Peter hushed her, his sorrowful eyes trying to lock with her irises but her downwards crooked neck prevented it.

Y/n remained silent but removed her hand from his, fingers trailing slowly across his palm, driving him insane.

“I need to tell you something…” Peter whispered.

She nodded, gaze still focused on her boots.

He swallowed, “I uhh… I clearly should’ve told you this before… or umm… well yeah…”.

Laughing softly at his own nervousness, “I like you. Like, really like you…. Not just as a friend.. I like-“.

Y/n gritted her teeth, “don’t. Peter. Please don’t”.

“W-what?” He inquired.

“I can’t do it Peter. I don’t want to hear it” her voice was stiff but he could hear the way her pitch wavered between words, “I’ve wanted to hear you say it, but not like this”.

Peter sighed, taking in the scene around them.

He knew it was far from romantic and certainly less than she deserved, but he hadn’t wanted to keep it in any longer.

If he’d learned anything this trip it was that life was unpredictable, terrifying, and short.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his hiding from his feelings.

The feelings he felt for her were far more intense than any he’d ever had towards MJ and he needed her to know how he felt about her; romantic scenery or not.

“You’re right, I should’ve -“ Peter apologized, bashfully rubbing the spandex covering his arms.

“I don’t want you to say it like this. Don’t tell me you like me when I know you like MJ, I can’t handle that” she whimpered, “certainly not right now”.

“Y/n, I don’t want MJ” he swore, his fingers twitching to touch her and pull her in for an embrace.

Y/N’s newly born confidence spoke up, “I don’t want to be someones backup or second choice. I’d rather just not be chosen”.

Peter felt a tinge of pride in her standing up for herself despite his heartache and guilt over her feeling this way.

“Y/n,” he hummed, “It was always you."

Y/N’s eyes snapped to his, anger flashing through her y/e/c eyes, “don’t pity me Peter. I can take you liking MJ. But I can’t take you toying with me. I know about your crush on MJ, you know I know about it. I told you I knew before we even left New York”.

Peter nodded, his eyes not leaving hers despite the hurt in them making him feel like he was the biggest villain they’d encountered on this trip.

“I did like MJ” he nodded, being sure to not leave much time between the conclusion of that sentence and the start of the next.

“But, I don’t anymore. Even when I did,” Peter shook his head softly, “it wasn’t the same”.

“I… I don’t follow” y/n admitted, eyes no longer displaying hurt or anger but rather confusion.

Confusion Peter could fix!

He had no problem taking however long it took to explain to her why the way he felt about her was different and far better than what he used to feel for MJ.

He would willingly go on and on about it until she understood.

“When I picture myself happy... It's with you” Peter told her, “I’ve not had that with anyone else”.

Y/n unintentionally caused a tiny whistle as she sucked air in through her barely parted lips, “…n-…not MJ?”

Peter held her gaze as he shook his head definitively, “no, never for MJ”.

She nodded slowly, still uncertain.

“I should’ve realized it that day, when you joined our school. I could sense something was different, not just about you…” he mumbled shyly, “but towards you. Sure I knew I found you attractive, but that was given”.

Y/n giggled softly as her lips curled up at the edges.

Peter blushed upon hearing his own confession repeat in his head, yet he continued for her sake, “I was too scared to approach you, and the feelings I had seemed too unusual.. I… couldn’t trust my senses at the time so I dismissed it and told myself I still had a crush on MJ”.

Y/n’s eyes scanned his face for signs of deception as she listened closely.

He sighed at his own behaviors, “to be fair, I still did. Or so I thought. Because, if this” he signaled between their bodies, “is what having a crush on someone truly feels like, I never actually had a crush on her then”.

Y/n felt a tear roll down her cheek as she took in his words.

Peter tenderly wiped her tear from her face, “y/n… I get it if I’ve missed my chance. But…There is something between us and… it is the most magical thing I have ever felt."

Y/n paused, her eyes distant as she visibly contemplated something, “ yeah, well.... you know… maybe I accidentally-“.

Peter chuckled, tilting her head towards him, his fingertips encouraging her to move face closer to his, “No y/n. I don’t mean actual magic”.

“Are you su-“ y/n worried.

“Yes, I know what your magic feels like, and as … strong and comforting as it is, this is different; better” he promised.

“So… now what?” Y/n asked, “what all does this mean?”

“Well, it’s a two part-plan. First, I'm gonna find an excuse to kiss you. The second step is asking you to be mine” Peter admitted, cheeks crimson.

“You don’t need an excuse to kiss me…” she whispered shyly.

Peter chuckled quietly, “no? Cause…You do have something in your hair, umm... Do you want me to get it out?"

Y/n wasn’t sure if there actually was something in her hair or if this was his attempt at finding an excuse like he planned to do, but she couldn’t care less.

She shook her head, her fingers grabbing the collar of his suit and pulling him closer until their lips met.

They smiled against each others lips before parting.

"Your lips are really warm." Peter blurted.

“Oh..sorry?” Y/n asked, her fingers feeling her bottom lip.

“No I liked it” he admitted, the words rushing out awkwardly.

She giggled and nodded, looking at her boots, “good….Me too, Uhh. err- the kiss, I mean”.

Peter grabbed her hand, “Wanna, like- I mean, I know the whole class is all going but ….for the flight home… maybe… We could sit together?“

Y/n nodded rapidly, gazing up at a smiling and blushing Peter.

So, her crush wasn’t doomed after all.

The trip hadn’t gone the way either of them planned.

But it was far better than they could've envisioned.

----Post Credit Scene----

Stay tuned for more of Y/n and Peter as they continue their adventures in Bewitched Love where you can read about the same characters as they handle the events of No Way Home!

Bewitched Love parts can be found on the series masterlist!

SERIES MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION

PETER PARKER MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION

TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION (INCLUDING CHARACTERS)

MY MAIN MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION (ALL MY WORKS)

Peter Parker Taglist (comment here to be added): @galaxyholland @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @natswife-marvelicious @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @theslayerofthevampires

82 notes · View notes

slytherheign · 3 years ago

Text

WORTH THE TEARS | tasm!peter parker

PART 2/5 OF WORTH: THE SERIES.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

SUMMARY: with peter gone, you found solace with the most unexpected person ever—spider-man. meanwhile, an opportunity from the past arises again and you must decide whether to take it or not.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, depression, grieving, cursing, blood, and canon-typical injuries. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 17+]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: thanks for all the love you’ve shown part 1 and sorry this part took so long! please let me know if you see any mistakes :)

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

The Notebook was playing on the television screen while you and Peter cuddled together on the couch. A fuzzy blanket covered the two of you to keep you warm.

If anyone saw the two of you, they would definitely think you were together.

As you laid your head on his shoulder, your focus was not on the movie anymore as it shifted to how close you are to each other. You wondered what Peter and you really were.

You liked Peter ever since you met him. He gave you a sense of comfort just by his mere presence. You didn't know why, but you felt safe and secure around him. You never wanted to let go of that feeling.

When you moved into his apartment 8 months ago, the two of you got even closer. The trips to your favorite coffee shop every Saturday continued; every Thursday, there were movie nights in the living room; some days, you would cook for each other and eat together when time allowed.

Were you two in a romantic relationship? Well, no. You weren't sure. There were no labels yet but there were definitely feelings involved, at least on your side.

Your thoughts wandered to life without Peter and you can't help but frown. Life without him just became unimaginable.

Shit.

You realized you didn't like him anymore, you loved him.

And god, you just hoped he felt the same.

"Peter?" you mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Can I tell you something?"

He took a glance at the window before facing you.

"I lo—" you felt him stiffen as he looked at the window again.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

He was feeling uneasy. Did he know you were about to say you loved him? Was he trying to avert it?

You decided to change the topic.

"You know, for some reason, I'm really craving for some donuts right now," you blurted out.

Peter immediately agreed. "You know what? Let me buy some. I promise I'll be back before you know it," he stood up quickly. "And hey–" he jokingly pointed a finger. "Don't you dare finish the movie without me."

"Noted," you forced a chuckle, grabbing the remote to pause the film.

It didn't get past you how he wanted to get out rather quickly.

"Peter Parker is dead."

Your shoulders slumped. You didn't know how it was possible, but you felt the world around you crumble. From your head to your hands, your knees, your entire body—everything and everywhere was shaking.

Spider-Man noticed and tried to touch you but you faced your back to him and warily walked toward the kitchen. With your trembling hands, you gripped the counter to try and ground yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes and tried to release themselves at an alarmingly fast pace. You saw the hero walk until he was beside you, offering you a glass of water.

You immediately blinked back the tears that threatened to escape as you accepted his offer. No. You weren't going down without a fight.

"How are you sure?" you faced him.

"What?" he was surprised by your sudden question. After your reaction earlier, he wasn't sure if you could speak so instantly.

You downed the whole glass of water in one go. You gulped, looking at him once again but this time more sternly.

"I asked, how are you sure it was Peter?" you sounded mad.

Hiding inside the suit, Peter noticed how the slight crack in your voice revealed how broken you truly were. He was sure it was incoherent to anyone if they heard you but him.

He couldn't answer as he watched you struggle to control your tears. You were trying to act brave and strong. You were trying to put up a facade. But it didn't work on him; it would never work on him—he knew you all too well.

"Why aren't you speaking?!" you bellowed. You weren't even trying to stop the tears that cascaded your face at this point. "P-please...speak," you pleaded.

He was speechless. Inside, he was trying so hard to stop himself from ripping the mask off right then and there and tell you he's alive. But he can't do that.

He was a dangerous person who attracted dangerous people. The more time he spent with you, the more you were in danger. You were safer without him.

"You're lying, aren't you?" you asked, wiping the tears off of your face. It didn't miss him how you tried to sound strong—even accusing him that he, Spider-Man himself, was lying.

Yes. He was lying.

But you couldn't know that.

It was for the best.

"J-just s-say something...s-something, please," you begged. "Tell me you're not sure it's him, tell me we can still find him—"

"The police found him. They recognized his face. They're sure–we're sure it's him," he finally spoke.

"Where's his bag? He was carrying a bag when he left," you questioned.

He didn't expect that. He was caught off guard. Peter has always admired your stubbornness—how you get pushy when you want a question answered.

But not this time. No, not in this situation.

"It wasn't with him when we found his body. We didn't find any bag."

Another lie. It was in the station, hiding under Charlene's desk after he purposely left it there to keep it safe.

His answer wasn't enough for you. "What was he wearing?"

"Umm...clothes?" he awkwardly answered, chuckling as he tried to cut the tension.

"What's the color of his shirt?" you pushed.

"It was grey."

You considered yourself a practical person. You never liked to dwell on things that didn't make any sense. For you, the sense was the most vital part of determining if something was believable or not.

That was not the case this time.

The more Spider-Man made any sense, the more you hated it. You didn't want to believe him.

Peter couldn't be gone. He can protect himself. Maybe he's just missing, right? But not dead?

No, not dead. He's not dead. Maybe there's still hope—

"He was carrying a box of donuts," he added.

That was the last straw. Your greatest fear confirmed.

Peter was gone, and so was the hope in you.

This wasn't how you guessed your night would turn out. When you awoke this morning, you went to work expecting a stress-relieving movie night with Peter when you get home.

You didn't expect to mourn a loss.

Certainly not Peter's at the very least.

Given, people die every day and you knew someday both of you were destined to forever rest in peace—but why does it have to be this day?

You loved him.

You were supposed to fucking tell it to him tonight.

But instead, here you were, crestfallen and unable to move. You were aware that Spider-Man was touching you, gripping your shoulders, and asking you if you were alright.

You were not.

And no matter how harsh the hero was shaking you, you didn't feel it. In fact, you didn't even care.

Peter was the one who made you feel. Now that he was dead and gone, you were back to being the version of yourself you hated most—the numb and hopeless.

Spider-Man was crying. You may not be able to move right now, but you heard him sniffing. You couldn't see the face of the man in front of you, but you were certain there were tears underneath the mask he wore.

The only thing you felt at the moment was the tears that fell against your face as he paced around the room before going back to circle around you. Your feet were stuck on the floor, but your knees were slowly giving up. There was no acting strong anymore. No more putting up a brave face. Because if you were being honest, you were weak. Even before Peter, you chose to ignore your life problems because you weren't brave enough to face them and open up to other people.

All of a sudden, the weight of everything got to you and you fell on the floor. Thankfully, Spider-Man was quick to catch you. You were now both on the floor, with your back being supported by his arm. With his other arm, he raised his gloved hand to caress your cheek and wipe the tears that continuously strode on it.

He tried to shush your sobs away and you unconsciously held his hand that was on your cheek.

It was strange—how the moment he touched your face, you can feel again.

Maybe it was the sense of calm that normally comes around with being in the presence of a superhero.

You slowly fixed your position and removed your weight from him. Behind the mask, Peter slightly frowned from the lack of physical contact.

You looked at him—or at the big white eyes shaped on his mask. You swallowed thickly, "T-thank you, Spider-Man. I g-got it from here," you stood up.

"Are you sure?" he stood up as well. You nodded, wiping your tears away. "Yes," you chuckled bitterly. "I want to–I need to be alone."

He understood but didn't leave immediately. He was still hesitant to leave you, not moving until a phone call forced him to.

The moment he left and closed the door, you broke down yet again.

"I'm on my way," he stated, responding to Charlene on the phone after she reported the location where Scorpion was seen again.

"Be careful out there, Spidey."

"I will," he ended the call, preparing to swing through the city to get to the location.

It didn't take him long to see Scorpion in the flesh. The man's back was facing him and he attempted to sneak behind him with his spider-like abilities.

He looked around the place for a moment. No city cameras. The fucker was smart.

"I know you're here, Spider-Man. Don't even try," his voice dead and showed no emotion.

"What are you?" Peter asked.

He chuckled deeply as he turned around. "Well, what do you think?"

"So we're answering questions with questions now, got it," Peter mused. "Look, man—I just wanna know why are you doing this?"

"Quit the chitchat, Spider-Man. We both know you aren't here to talk to me."

"True," Peter chuckled. "Was only being nice you know?" he stepped forward towards the villain. "Didn't want to introduce myself with a punch—" he threw a punch at him as soon as he said it.

Scorpion only smiled, punching him back with force. It hit him square in the chest and it hurt him like hell.

Oh, he's not gonna get away for that.

So he planned his next attack to be targeted at the man's chest.

It was back and forth, the punching, the kicking—just attacks after attacks.

It went on and on. For a while, Peter got the upper hand. He used his webs to trap the villain in his place, and while his opponent was stuck, he took the opportunity to land as many offenses as he could. But Scorpion was strong, he was able to break free from the webs in a short amount of time. If they weren't enemies, Peter would sure be proud and impressed.

They weren't equal, of course. But Peter had laid low for the past couple of years. Sure he still did some duties as Spider-Man, but those duties were light and were nothing compared to this. Two years were too long, and he was afraid that maybe his skills were lacking. He underestimated the man in front of him.

He was now on the floor, tired and covered in blood. Scorpion was weak and heavily wounded, but he was still able to stand weakly. Peter would stand too, but an injury from the back prevented him. Scorpion's tail did something to his back during the battle. It had to be really bad because it stung with hurt and blood covered his hand every time he touched it.

He knew he would be able to stand at some point—but for now, he couldn't. Needless to say, he was disappointed in himself.

This was exactly why he never should have expected a serene life—even if it was just for a little while. Because the moment he gets too happy, terrible things seemed to always follow along.

When Scorpion was back on his feet again, he took a moment to decide whether to kill Peter right then and there or play with his mind. He decided to do the latter, because where was the fun in the first one?

With his hoarse voice, he started to speak. "A piece of advice, Spider-Man. Keep your loved ones close," he warned. "If I were you, I'll never leave their sides."

"W-what's your name?" Peter asked, now frail and feeble.

The villain chuckled darkly. "I think you'll know it soon enough," Scorpion smiled smugly. "But for now..."

Peter looked at him with rage, daring Scorpion to speak his next words as he finally could sit and change his position from the floor.

"Send my greetings to Y/N for me, won't you, Peter Parker?"

All Peter could do was stare as the villain walked away.

"What the hell happened?" Carlos asked in a panic, moving to help him stand up with Charlene. Peter had called them both soon after Scorpion left.

With an arm on each of their shoulders, the officers helped Peter get inside their car before they helped themselves get in.

Peter didn't answer Carlos' question and instead asked one of his own when Charlene started the car. "Where are we going?"

"To the police station."

"No," he replied in an instant. Both officers looked at him confusingly. "Take me to your house o-or your apartment. I have something to tell you."

They followed and asked no questions.

"So what now?" Charlene asked the moment they all stepped into their home.

Peter realized he couldn't do this alone the moment Scorpion said your name. He needed help—and only from those he trusted most.

Without thinking twice, Peter grabbed the mask that separated him and Spider-Man and pulled it off to reveal himself.

"My name is Peter Parker."

Silence.

He looked at them expecting a verbal response but was left with two shocked officers with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.

Silence.

"Man, do I have a lot of questions right now," Carlos broke the silence, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's fine. You can ask them," Peter encouraged.

"Oh trust me, we will," Charlene replied. "But first, let's help you with–" she pointed around his injured body, "that."

The questions came as soon as Charlene came back with a medical kit in her hand. They were on the living room couch, with the kit rested atop the center table. Carlos was the one who helped Peter with his injuries while Charlene led the questioning.

"Why did you tell us who you are?" she asked.

"Because I need your help... and you're the only ones I could trust."

She nodded. "What happened back there?"

"We fought. He's strong and he's smart—gotta give him that. He knew how to fight me—Spider-Man. It's like he did some research on my weak spots. And it wasn't the only thing he knew about me..."

"What else?" Carlos asked this time.

"He knew my name. Peter Parker. And my roommate's. That's why I'm asking for your help."

"You want our help because he knows your roommate's name?"

"Yes."

Charlene asked the next question. "I'm guessing this roommate is special to you?"

"Yes," he answered, with no doubt.

Charlene nodded while Carlos was left confused. "I don't get it," he interrupted.

"He means he loves her, idiot," Charlene laughed.

"Oh," he grinned at Peter. "In love, huh?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

Peter chuckled, blushing until he remembered the situation and his face fell in an instant. The other two in the room noticed the sudden change.

Peter decided to get straight to the point. "I need a tombstone."

"What?" The couple asked in unison.

"I told her I was dead—that Peter Parker was dead—as Spider-Man," he admitted.

"That's a fucked up thing to do, mate," Charlene reacted.

"I agree. Very stupid," Carlos added.

"I just wanted to protect her. M-my last girlfriend d-died because of me and I don't want that to happen ever again."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry."

"Shit, sorry."

Peter acknowledged with a wave of his hand.

"What happens now? If Scorpion knows her name, she's not safe anymore either way. What's the point of you pretending to be dead?" Charlene questioned.

"I can protect her by being Spider-Man. I just need to get close to her."

"Don't you think you can protect her more by being Peter Parker? Since Peter is closer to her than Spider-Man?"

"Why don't you just tell her that you're still alive and that you're Spider-Man?" Carlos added.

"That's the point. I know her, if she knows I'm Spider-Man, she'll want to help me with everything—even with the fighting. That's the exact same thing my last girlfriend did, and she ended up dying."

"Okay, so protect her by being Peter but don't tell her that you're Spider-Man? Like how you did before."

Peter shook his head. "She's gonna find out sooner or later. With Scorpion on the loose, Spider-Man will be busy, which means Peter will be busy as well. She's going to be suspicious about why Peter is always out and investigate all of this and then find out everything. The less she knows, the safer she is."

"So what's your plan?" asked Charlene.

"Peter Parker is dead and I'm gonna need a tombstone to prove it."

"And then?"

"I will protect her as Spider-Man. I'll get close and keep her safe while we investigate Scorpion at the same time. If she doesn't know I'm Peter then she won't feel obliged to help me—and if she doesn't help me, then she won't get harmed. She'll get suspicious, for sure, and I'll just make up excuses to keep her from knowing too much."

"Are you sure about this?"

"She's a part of this mess now, I recognize that. She's already close with all of this, and I don't want her to get even closer by knowing that Peter Parker is Spider-Man."

"Is that all?" Carlos asked.

"I need a place to stay. I can't go back to our apartment when I'm supposed to be dead."

"Stay here," Charlene offered. "But only until all of this is done."

Peter nodded.

"What about your things?" Carlos asked.

"I have a backpack. I left it at the station. I have everything I need in there."

"Well then," Charlene sighed. "This is crazy."

"I'm sorry for getting the two of you involved."

"It's fine. We swore to protect people, and that's what we're going to do." Charlene replied.

"Thank you," Peter smiled weakly, wincing when he felt Carlos' hand touch his back.

"Jesus, what happened to your back?" Carlos grimaced at the sight.

"He attacked it with his tail. I haven't seen it so I don't know what he's done."

"Why don't you change into some of my clothes for a while until your backpack is here? So we can see your back clearly?"

Peter accepted the offer. Carlos gave him some clothes to change into, moving back to the living room as soon as he finished changing.

"Okay now, let's see how bad your back is."

Peter lifted his borrowed shirt for him to see clearly.

"Holy shit."

"Why?" Charlene asked Carlos, moving so she could see what he was seeing. "Oh my god."

Peter tensed at their reactions. "What is it?"

"Not sure how to tell you this, Peter. But uh..." Carlos started.

"He carved into your back," Charlene finished.

Peter immediately went to the nearest mirror to see it for himself.

There it was, written on his back and carved deeply into his skin, the two big letters: MG.

A WEEK GONE.

You weren't doing any better.

But you weren't alone though, and you were thankful for that.

Weirdly enough, Spider-Man visited you quite often. He was helping you get back on your feet again—he even helped you with the house when you were not in the right state to clean.

"Why don't you stay in your room and just rest? I'll clean all of this," the hero suggested.

"You're going to clean the house while in a suit?" you questioned. "Isn't that hot?"

"Well, yes. But I can't reveal myself to anyone, can I?" he teased.

"True," you agreed. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and you went to your room. Nights of endless crying have finally gotten to you—rest was heaven.

Little did you know, as you laid to rest on your bed comfortably, Peter opened your window to grab the backpack he hid and secretly went into his room to pack some of his clothes and some necessities. He made sure you didn't notice.

Peter cleaned the place up in no time while you were still sound asleep, debating now whether to say goodbye by leaving a letter or just leave. He decided to do the latter—he couldn't leave a letter, you'd recognize his handwriting.

You were grateful for Spider-Man. You saw a good friend in him while others merely saw a hero. You didn't know why he visited you frequently. The man who killed Peter was still on the loose, why did he have so much free time? Shouldn't he be out there all the time? And why were you even complaining? You got along with him very well and he was helping you with everything.

You have gotten closer to him so quickly that it left you confused about how it all transpired. How was it even possible?

Perhaps, because you enjoyed his company.

Perhaps, because he sounded just like Peter.

Or perhaps it was because underneath the heroic man clad in the spider suit was the man you loved.

"Any updates?" Peter asked as he stormed into the couple's apartment.

"He killed two people and left before we were even aware there's an emergency. He's gone. Again. I don't know h-how he keeps doing t-this," Charlene sighed defeatedly as anxious tears threatened to fall.

Carlos noticed and immediately went to hug her side and kiss her forehead. He turned back to Peter. "And that's not it," he added.

"What?" Peter asked eagerly.

"Remember that corner street you fought him at?"

Peter nodded. "What about it?"

"Well—there were no cameras at the exact location but there were cameras on the street going there. We checked it to see if we could get a look at him and—" Carlos breathed in panic.

"And?"

Charlene continued for him. "There was no one, Peter. Not even a movement. It's just the street."

"How is that possible?" Peter sighed in disbelief. "Fuck."

"Teleportation? Is that even possible?" Charlene asked with fear.

"No... I'm not sure. I haven't encountered anyone who can do that," he answered honestly.

"What now?" asked Carlos.

"Well, now's not the time to give up, is it?"

Peter was determined.

Spider-Man was on a mission.

And everyone knew not to mess with Spider-Man on a mission.

2 WEEKS GONE.

A ringing from your phone woke you up. You didn't mind it though, it wasn't a peaceful sleep you were having. 2 weeks without Peter meant 2 weeks without blissful tranquility. How were you supposed to rest easy knowing the room next to yours was forever going to be empty?

You hurried over to your bedside table to answer. It was from your HR manager at your company. You wondered what he wanted from you—you were not supposed to return to work until tomorrow. Were you in trouble?

"Hey, Mitch," you greeted.

"Y/N. Hi—did I wake you up?"

"Actually... yeah," you chuckled tiredly.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry."

"N-no, it's fine. Am I in trouble?"

"Oh no no no," he laughed. "Actually, I just called to remind you about the offer?"

"Oh, that..."

You worked at a marketing firm. Last month, your company offered you to get relocated to their branch in Japan. It was their first branch in that country and they needed someone there to help with everything. Permanently. And since you were apparently one of their best employees, they wanted that someone to be you.

"They still need you, you know. This is a great opportunity and it's not going to be offered to you forever," Mitch continued.

He was right. It was a great opportunity. But why can't you bring yourself to just say 'yes' and accept it?

"U-umm—look it's a big decision to make. Can I think about it more?" you replied.

You caught Mitchell sigh on the other line.

"Fine. 2 days, Y/N. I'm giving you 2 days to decide and if you still haven't decided yet after that, I'm giving it to someone else."

"Noted, Mitch. Thanks."

A DAY LATER.

You had 1 more day left to make a decision. So you did what you thought was going to help you—you made a list of possible consequences.

If you were to turn it down, nothing would change. You would still have your current position at work and salary; you would stay in New York, the same city that reminded you of losses and heartbreak.

But if you were to agree, it would mean moving to another country. You would get promoted to a higher position, which would mean you get to have more benefits. Plus, it would mean having a chance to get a new start; a new chapter; a new life.

It was the perfect opportunity.

But were you ready to leave New York?

Your thinking was cut short when a knock from your window got your attention. You hurriedly stood up from the couch to let Spider-Man inside. At this point, you were used to his visits.

Strangely enough, you were a friend to Spider-Man, and he was a friend to you.

"Hey, Spidey," you smiled.

"You're smiling," he teased. "It looks good on you."

"Oh—thanks," you smiled even wider. "What made you come here?"

"Can I take you somewhere?" he asked.

You were surprised. "Where?"

"You'll see," he smiled, offering a hand for you to take. "Take it."

"O-okay. I trust you," you took his hand and he led you towards the window. "Woah—umm–why here?"

"We're gonna swing."

You immediately withdrew your hand. "WHAT?" you stepped back.

"What—didn't you say you trust me?"

"Well yeah—but swinging? really?" you were visibly skeptical.

"Come on," he took a step forward. "Please?"

You stared at him and at the hand he was once again offering. "Okay."

It was a whole new feeling. As much as you wanted to close your eyes to keep yourself from being sick, you couldn't take them away from the skyscrapers. You were so used to looking up at them from the roads as they reached the sky, but now you were actually looking straight at them as their highest floors leveled you and Spider-Man.

So this is what flying felt like.

It felt different; almost freeing, definitely beautiful.

"You okay, there?" he asked, his arm tightening around your waist as he secured you from falling.

"Yup!" you replied amidst the loud air.

"Hold on! We're almost there."

"Okay."

You landed in a graveyard—still in the city but farther away from the bustling parts. There were no other people except for the two of you.

You wondered what he was up to as he led you towards the end of the graveyard, passing tombstones along the way. He stopped in front of a tree.

"There's something behind the tree. You should see it," he announced. "I'll stay here."

You didn't miss how his voice seemed sad and his demeanor gloomy.

You obeyed, slowly walking behind it to see what the thing was.

"Oh my god," a hand immediately went up to your mouth as it started to quiver.

Spider-Man started speaking from the other side. "He requested it to be put right there," his voice calm and somber.

You started shaking.

"Even in his last breath, he couldn't stop talking about you. He told me you were so beautiful and how he would miss looking at you," he continued.

Tears started to free fall from your eyes and you didn't even care if the hero from the other side heard how loudly you were crying.

"You were special to him."

You slowly fell to the ground as you felt your whole body shut down and released all the emotions you had been repressing.

There it was, staring right in front of you.

A tombstone—same as the others but different at the same time.

Same, because it was made of the same stone and placed in the same graveyard.

Different, because the person buried 6 feet under was special and important to you.

You couldn't do anything but trace the carving written on it with your shaking hand.

HERE LIES PETER PARKER.

You hugged the stone, wishing and imagining that it was him instead.

THE NEXT DAY.

It was the last day and the last time to make the big decision.

After yesterday's events, the hero took you home right after you had calmed down. He stayed with you until he was sure you were okay and even helped you get in bed before leaving.

He promised he would be here today and you were actually waiting for him. You wanted to talk.

You didn't have to wait long until you heard the familiar knock on your window.

"Hey," you greeted as you let him in. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, couch?" he suggested and you agreed.

"Thank you for being here," you sat beside him.

"No worries. What do you want to talk about? Is something wrong?"

"No, actually," you shook your head. "I wanted to ask some advice on something. If that's okay with you?"

"Oh, y-yeah. Of course. What is it?"

"There's this... opportunity I got offered at work."

"That's great! What is it?"

"Our company just opened their first branch in Japan and they want me to work there," you announced.

"—Oh," he seemed surprised.

"I'm not yet sure if I should accept it or not and I have to make a decision today. Should I?"

An unannounced silence surrounded the two of you as the man behind the spider suit seemed to be thinking hard.

"What do you think?" you asked again.

Silence.

"Spidey?"

"You should accept it," Spider-Man mused. He hoped you didn't notice the unsureness in his voice. There was a chance he would never see you again after all.

"You think so?" you asked. You didn't want to leave New York. It bore a lot of memories, both good and bad, but it was still New York and those memories were what shaped you into what you were now.

"I know so," he claimed. "It will be good for you."

The truth was that Peter didn't want her to leave. But he wasn't Peter now, was he? He was Spider-Man. And if keeping her safe meant letting her go, then so be it.

"O–okay," you breathed. "I'm gonna accept it."

Maybe taking up the offer would actually help you in terms of moving on. After all, there was nothing holding you back anymore.

Cancer has taken your mother.

Now, because of demanding some fucking donuts, Peter was gone.

You killed Peter.

Like how you had killed your father years ago.

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @writingstoraes @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz

318 notes · View notes

bradtomlovesya · 3 years ago

Text

MASTERLIST

Who I write for:

Tom Holland

Peter Parker

Arvin Russel

Bradley Simpson

Add yourself to my Taglist! 👇🏻

- TAGLIST -

Rumours

Summary: Tom and Y/n have been in a relationship for 2 years and it's always hard with the rumours and the distance. This time just became harder. (Inspired by the song "Unsaid" by Ruel)

Warnings: Angst!, bad ending, Tom being a dickhead sometimes, mentions of cheating, swearing.

Word count: 7.5k +

The Girl Of The Bar

Summary: Tom falls in love with you, the girl his brother (Harry) loves.

Warnings: Angst!, mentions of sex, swearing, insinuation, good ending.

Word count: 9k +

Blue Roses

Summary: Y/n is in love with his bestfriend Tom. The problem? He is already in a relationship.

Warnings: Angst!, Fluffy ending!

Word count: 2.6 k +

The Longest Night

Summary: Tom confronts you because he is tired of being your fuck-friend. Insipired by the song: FRIENDS - Chase Atlantic. Tom Holland! x Reader!

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive, Angst! with good ending. Fluffy end!

Word counter: 1.7k +

Chamomile Tea

Summary: Where Tom takes care of you during your period.

Warnings: None, just pure Fluff!

Word counter: 1.2k +

R.I.P To The Old You

Summary: Tom has been changing a lot lately, that doesn't mean it's a bad thing, does it?

Warnings: ANGST!, swearing, bad ending!

w/c: 3.4k +

Christmas Movie

Summary: You love watching Christmas movies and you know Tom does too.

Warnings: Nothing, is pure Fluff!

w/c: 908

In The End

Summary: You and Tom are triying to get to his parent's house for new year's.

Warnings: a little angsty but fluff in the end.

w/c: 1.5k +

Ghostface

Summary: You decide to prank you boyfriend and friends... sweet sweet revenge. (Based on this request - HERE - )

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries, serial killer!, a bit of dark humour at the end. (Let me know if I missed something)

W/C: 1.1k+

~♡♥︎♡~

SMAU! TOM

Happier

Status: Complete

Summary: Frat!Tom is in love with his bestfriend's girlfriend but he tries to hide it. Tom wishes that he could tell you the truth, that you would be happier with him.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, Angst!, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, kind of Fluff!

Number of chapters: 10

Public Eye

Status: Complete

Summary: You and Tom have a two-year relationship far from the public eye, but you're just tired of being a secret.

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive, Angst!

Number of chapters: 6

The Art of Eye Contact

Status: Complete

Summary: You broke up with him hoping not to see those beautiful brown eyes again. You knew if you two made eye contact again it would be the death of you.

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of sex, angst!, fluff!, strong vocabulary. Read at your own risk.

Number of chapters: 7

SERIES! PETER

Choices | Series Masterlist

Summary: Everybody forgot who Peter Parker was. All his world tunerd grey until he met you and you started dating. It could have been perfect if it wasn't for the fact that MJ comes back and, surprise! She remembers EVERYTHING.

Warnings: Pure Angst!, fluff!, swearing, some little descriptions of sex. +18

Number of chapters: 3

Perfectly Wrong | Pt. 1 / Pt. 2

Summary: Peter tries to make up and get you back. Based on this request - HERE -

Warnings: A bit Angst!, Fluff!, mentions of alcohol.

w/c: 1.7k+

ONE SHOTS! PETER

Goodbye

Summary: You only have a couple minutes left and you still have to say goodbye.

Warnings: ANGST! (in capital letters). Mentions of dead, Mentions of Blood, Injuries.

w/c: 2.1k +

Don't Leave Me

Summary: You and Brad have been dating on secret and Connor is in love with you but you don't want to be in the middle of them.

Warnings: Angst!, Swearing.

Word count: 1.1k +

I Fucking Hate You!

Summary: You and Brad have to do a project together. It's not easy when you hate each other.

Warnings: Smut! +18, swearing.

Word count: 1.3k +

You're So Blind

Summary: You're in love with your bestfriend Brad.

Warnings: Angst!, Fluffy!Ending.

Word count: 1.4k +

What Are You Talking About?

Summary: The morning after you had sex, Brad pretends nothing happened between you two.

Warnings: Smut! +18, Swearing, Angst! With good ending.

Word Count: 2k +

I'm Here

Summary: You have an anxiety attack and Brad helps you.

Warnings: Anxiety, Fluff!, Insinuation.

Word count: 987

I Met Him At A Festival

Summary: You meet Brad at a Festival and you think he just wants you for sex. But what if he doesn't?

Warnings: Suggestive, Fluffy!Ending.

Word count: 1.9k +

I Won't Surrender With You

Summary: You are admitted to hospital while Brad is on tour. When you tell him, he'd rather continue the tour than go with you.

Warnings: Angst!With bad ending, Swearing, Mentions of cheating.

Word count: 2k +

Jealousy Punishment

Summary: You go with your boyfriend, Brad to a party. A guy starts flirting with you and of course Brad doesn't like it so he shows you who you beling to.

Warnings: Smut! +18, Possessive, Angst!, Sub!reader × Dom!Brad, Swearing, Orgasm denied. Minors do not interact!

Word count: 4.5k +

It Was Supposed To Be A Surprise

Summary: You accidentally find the engagement's ring Brad has for you.

Warnings: Fluff!

Word count: 999

Future

Summary: Brad watches you babysitting and can't help but think about the future.

Warnings: Pure Fluff!

Word count: 1.2k +

Pancake Morning

Summary: Brad takes his bestfriend (You) on tour with him. One morning he just becomes oddly horny and can't stop looking at you.

Warnings: Smut! +18, Sub/Dom!Brad x Sub/Dom!Reader, Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Fluffy!Ending. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.9k +

~♡♥︎♡~

SMAU! BRAD

Jealousy, Jealousy

Status: Complete

Summary: Brad gets Jealous of your friend's brother.

Warnings: Swearing, Jealous.

Number of Chapters: 1

I Hate That I Love You

Status: Ongoing

Summary: You and Brad have been hating each other for over two years. Maybe that hate can turn in something else when you have to fo a project together.

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive.

Number of Chapters: Not defined yet

~♡♥︎♡~

SERIES! BRAD

Just Sex | Pt.1 | Pt.2

Status: Complete

Summary: You and Brad have a strict relationship of just sex without feelings. But, What happens when you start falling in love with him?

Warnings: Smut! +18, Swearing, Angst!, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), minors dni!

Number of Chapters: 2

When The Show Ends | Pt.1 | Pt. 2

Status: Complete

Summary: After seeing Brad using that red shirt on that concert you become oddly Horny

Warnings: Smut! +18, Dom!Brad x Sub!Reader, Spit Kink, Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Minors dni.

Number of Chapters: 2

SMAU! TOM AND BRAD

Wrong or Right

Status: Complete

Summary: You and Tom are in a relationship but things aren't the same as before and then you meet Brad.

Warnings: Angst!, Fluffy!, swearing, mentions of sex, Reader ends with Brad.

Number of Chapters: 15

504 notes · View notes