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exhaslo · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 3- Feral! Miguel x reader

Was it weird to want to have sex with a version of Spiderman while you were a Spider-woman? The thought had popped itself several times as you stared at Miguel O'Hara. The leader of the Spider Society; the Spiderman of the future; and the man of your dreams. It was no lie that Miguel was good looking. He was no Peter Parker. Hell, he barely even seemed human at times. His fangs, his strength, his everything was just so...amazing.

You on the other hand were just another Spider here. You had been working at the Spider Society for almost a year now. From time to time you have bumped into Miguel, but were given the cold shoulder. It was sad, but you had to admire the man from a distance. It seemed like no matter how close to tried to get to him, Miguel would push you away. What were you to do?

A soft sigh escaped you lips as you sat upside down in the cafeteria. Not many people were at the Spider Society today. Apparently, it was the anniversary for Uncle Ben's death. Only a few Spiders were keeping themselves preoccupied while others went to console their Aunt May. You had your own story. Your own lost ones. You were not a Peter Parker variant of any kind. You were different and special, but apparently not special enough for Miguel to even pay you mind.

"Ugh, what do I have to do?" You whined softly before remembering something, "Ah, since almost everyone is out, maybe he needs help!"

That lightbulb that appeared above your head was a blessing. You decided to grab an extra empanada from the cafeteria and made you way over to Miguel's large office. Hopefully he would be in a mood to talk today. You were even bringing him a peace offering!

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

Miguel hovered above his desk, trying to catch his breathe. He was rutting bad. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Miguel tried to ease his pain by masturbating's, but it was of little help. He needed to be in someone. In you. A soft growl escaped his lips as he tried to picture you under him. How could he ever get close to you when all you ever did was smell so sweet. Miguel had to hold himself back from ravishing you every time you got near him.

He wanted to fuck your brains out and plant a baby in you. Stroking his dick faster, Miguel tried to imagine your cries of pleasure. Your desperate moans for him to fill you. How dirty these thoughts were when he barely said a full sentence to you most days. The scent of your arousals every time he spoke to you was so tempting.

"Hello? Miguel?"

Miguel halted immediately as something new drifted in the air. He sniffed towards your direction, eyes widening. Now was a horrible time for you to show up. You were ovulating and Miguel could smell it.

"Is this a bad time?" The drop of your voice was cute.

"Mierda. (Fuck)" Miguel hissed before swinging before you, "You shouldn't have come here," He groaned, his large hands on your shoulders. Your heart skipped a beat,

"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you needed help," You admitted.

You ignored the twisting feeling of your gut. Your spider senses were tingling, but you had an idea as to why. That look Miguel was giving you was making you wet. His hands moved up to your neck, tossing aside the container in your hand. Oh. You knew where this was going.

"I do need help," His voice was low and needy, "Te voy a follar tanto que no querrás volver a tu mundo. (I'm going to fuck you so much that you won't want to go back to your world.)"

You inhaled deeply as your body turned to jelly. You understood that. Ohhhhhh, you understood that. Miguel inhaled deeply once more before crash his lips against yours. You did not have time to do anything before his talons ripped your suit. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, causing you to lose air. Miguel was making you dizzy from just his kisses.

Miguel grabbed your hands as you tried to push his chest. You needed air. He webbed your hands to your back before ripping your panties off. Finally, you gasped. Miguel let you catch your breath as he grinded his hard erection against your cunt. Your heart rate had picked up as you listened to him groan and moan. This man whom you admired and dreamed of fucking, was making such sexy noises. To be fair, moans were coming out of your mouth from the friction he was giving you.

"Ya estás tan mojado para mí. Voy a llenarte. llenarte con mi semilla. (You're so wet for me already. I'm going to fill you up. Fill you up with my seed.)" He panted softly.

You tried to get a word in, but Miguel had shoved his cock inside your folds. A loud gut wrenching moan escaped your lips as you tried to adjust to the sudden intrusion. He was so large. This was so sudden. Once more, you tried to say something, but Miguel pulled back and slammed himself inside you once more. Then again and again. His cock was bullying your pussy and you were loving every minute of it. He was making you wetter by the second.

The gushing sounds your pussy made whenever he slammed his hips into yours were delicious. Miguel took your breast in his mouth, finally enjoying those moans he so desperately wanted to hear. Your tight walls sucking him more and more. Each orgasm he gave you, leaving him to want more. He was not going to stop. He needed to feel more.

"Di mi nombre. (Say my name.)" He demanded.

"Miguel! M-Miguel~" You repeated as he hit just the right spot.

Miguel gripped your waist harshly, his talons threatening to pierce your skin. He brought his fangs to your neck, giving you a small bite. Yes, it would paralyze you, but that was what he wanted. Watching as your body arched for another orgasm, Miguel licked his lips. Your walls gushed around his cock, sucking him in for more. Complying, Miguel groaned as he filled you with his cum. A dark chuckle escaped his lips as he watched you pant for air.

He laid you on your stomach, entering your throbbing hole once more. Your soft cries were music to his ears. You were begging him to give you a chance to relax, but why would he? Miguel was in heat and he finally got his cure. Pounding you harder than before, Miguel moaned softly as he felt himself twitch inside you. This was what he needed. What he wanted. To fill your womb with his seed. To impregnate you with his child.

"Ah~ Miguel~" You cried out. Miguel brought his fangs to your shoulder,

"No voy a parar pronto. No con lo bueno que estás siendo con mi polla. Tu dulce coño chupándome para obtener más semen. (I'm not stopping anytime soon. Not with how good you're being to my cock. Your sweet pussy sucking me for more of my cum.)" He whispered in your ear. You body shivered in delight,

"T-That's n-"

"I could smell how soaked your panties were every time you spoke to me. Do you know how hard it was to not fuck you each time?" Miguel threaten with a growl, shoving his cock deeper inside to fill you once more.

"Y-You could smell me?!" You squeaked in embarrassment.

Miguel changed positions once more, placing you on his lap. He freed your hands, allowing you to wrap them around his neck. Miguel noticed that your legs were starting to grow numb. He wasn't sure if it was from his rough sex or the venom from his fangs.

"Si, mi amor. (Yes, my love) And right now, you came to me in heat while ovulating."

You're burned up once you registered what he said. Realizing that he was determined to get you pregnant, you begged him to wait. Miguel ignored your adorable cries as he thrusted his hips upward. Despite your complaints, you obedienly bounced on his cock. You couldn't help but want to fuck him more. He was too good to stop.

Miguel licked his lips as he took your breasts in his mouth again. You tasted so sweet. Next time he was going to have to taste every part of your body. He had wanted to do it nice and slow, but you came onto him with your scent. Either way, Miguel was enjoying your body melting under his mouth. He watched as he brought out another orgasm from you. Your body laying against his from exhaustion.

"I never said we were done." Miguel smirked.

He laid your back against his desk once more, earning more cries and moans from you. Your body was being overstimulated. Miguel watched as you bit your lower lip, shaking in pleasure from him cumming inside you again. It was cute how you begged him to stop, but made such lewd faces when he filled you.

You on the other hand were so cock drunk to even think anymore. The only thing you can think about anymore was the feeling of Miguel's cock stuffing you full. You could feel your womb full of his cum, yet it still wasn' enough for him. You were seeing stars at this point as he kept bullying his cock into you.

"Hah, perfect fit. Your pussy was made for my cock," Miguel panted heavily, riding out another high. He brought you in for sloppy kiss, "Fuck, I can't wait to finally take you home. Fuck you everyday...hah, finally getting to taste you."

Miguel kept blabbering as he kept fucking you. He was enjoying this after months of denial. You were finally his and his alone.

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

A soft groan escaped your lips as you finally started to come to. Your eyes fluttered opened. It took you a minute to adjust, but once you did, you noticed that you were in a bedroom. It wasn't yours. You attempted to get up, but your body was weak and sore.

"Morning, mi amor." Miguel said as he entered the room with a wet rag. You cooed softly as he placed the rag against your forehead,

"So it wasn't a wet dream," You muffle. Miguel resisted a chuckle, stroking your cheek,

"No."

"How long was I out?"

"..." Miguel furrowed his brows, "Two days," He told you, earning a shocked look.

"Two-Miguel!" Words were caught on your throat. Miguel stole a kiss from you, stroking your cheek,

"I had a small window. I made sure not a single second was wasted during your time." His smirk only grew, "But when you recover, I'm going to properly taste you."

"M-Miguel!"

The stamina this man had was going to make you lose your mind, but you loved it. Trying to hide your embarassment, you covered your face in the blanket.

"F-Fine, but go easy on me." You muttered. Miguel was taken back for a moment before hovering over you the next second,

"Guess I can't wait afterall. Thanks for the meal,"

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #kinktober #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader

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cherienymphe · 2 years ago

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Basic Training X (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

“Alright. Time’s up, pretty girl.”

You pouted a bit as Peter’s words reached you, signaling to you that you’d been outside long enough and that you’d have to help get breakfast ready soon. You longingly stared at the pond as you stood up, hating how little free time you were allowed. Unlike you, the other women didn’t need someone standing over their shoulder whenever they stepped a foot outside. Clearly Steve or Peter thought there was still a chance you might try and make a run for it.

That opportunity had long passed.

You straightened, brushing some dirt off of your dress before making your way to Peter. The dark-haired man took your hand with a smile, leaning in and brushing his lips over your cheek as he walked you back to the house. Peter did that a lot more as of late. Taking your hand, kissing your face, just touching you in any small harmless way. You didn’t know how to feel about it at first, seeing it more as the price you had to pay to keep Peter so close.

…but just like his presence became a comfort, so did the feel of his hand in yours.

Steve was standing at the back door as you both neared the house, and you held Peter’s hand tighter. You relaxed only slightly when Peter squeezed your hand, and you did your best to avoid Steve’s gaze. Sometimes you wished that you were capable of what Steve clearly thought you were. At least then all of his scrutiny wouldn’t be in vain.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what he expected from you. You were weak. He’d said so himself that day in the basement when he’d decided you couldn’t even last another day. You were nothing like Natasha or even Margaret, something that was a great source of discomfort for you.

“Why do you think you need to be more like Nat?” Peter had asked you one day when you brought it up.

You’d shrugged.

“I just feel…really…pathetic, sometimes,” you’d mumbled, playing with your fingers and avoiding his gaze.

Peter had taken your face into his hands, looking almost sad as you voiced your insecurity. You both knew why you wished you were more like the beautiful redhead, but Peter didn’t say anything about that. He’d simply pressed his lips to your forehead, keeping them there as he talked.

“You’re you, and that’s why I like you,” he’d whispered against your skin. “If I had wanted anyone else… If I’d wanted someone more like Nat, I would’ve swiped her before Bucky had the chance to.”

That was when you learned that like Jane and Thor, Bucky and Natasha had known each other before this too. Such a thought hurt your heart, and you couldn’t imagine the betrayal she’d felt. Peter had mentioned something about them knowing Natasha since she was a kid, her having grown up in this town too. That level of betrayal had clearly made her heart harden against Bucky in the beginning instead of having some softness for him, leading to her being down in that basement for literal months.

It also explained why Bucky had seemed very upset when he mentioned it.

Natasha was still quiet around you these days, but you couldn’t help but notice that ever since she’d learned the truth about how you were taken, she wasn’t so…harsh. Before, where you could tell that she was that way for your own sake, just wanting you to fall in line for your benefit, now, you could see the patience and understanding in her eyes. They all seemed much more careful around sharp objects, now, having clarity on that incident in the kitchen with the blood.

You didn’t know how to feel about that either.

On the one hand, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. It’s not like you talked about it, but it felt good to be surrounded by people who not only knew what you’d been through, but who also cared. The silent support did make things a little easier. On the other hand, though, you didn’t think that you liked being pitied. You weren’t the only victim in this scenario, and you felt wrong being treated like the only one.

What about Jane who’d liked Thor before he kidnapped her? Or Natasha who’d grown up in this town, who’d grown up with Bucky and the rest, and was betrayed by a man she thought was her friend? Several men that she thought were her friends. To you, their situations seemed just as traumatic.

Even Margaret, whose origin with Steve you didn’t know, still had to live in a perpetual state of fear of being brutally raped by that man for all to see over the smallest of infractions. You helped Laura in the garden as the other woman walked around the property with her daughter. She cooed at her and looked as happy as could be, but you often wondered how much of it was fake for the sake of survival or how much of it was real as a conditioned way of coping? There were many times you leaned towards the latter…

…and there were many times you worried that would be you.

As if you’d conjured him up with your thoughts, you felt familiar hands on your shoulders just as Laura glanced up.

“Hello, Peter.”

The almost robotic way in which they’d all greet Peter anytime he joined you in some household task was almost frightening. Peter allowed you to be so casual with him, and you were reminded of that day he’d snapped at Jane in the greenhouse. It was a reminder that these women probably knew Peter much better than you did. Some of them had lived in this house with him for years, and they knew a whole other side of Peter that you didn’t.

“Laura,” he evenly greeted. “What are you and Y/N planting?”

“Just squash seeds,” she replied. “A personal request from Sam.”

She chuckled as she recalled when Sam had run into you both earlier. He’d seemed very enthusiastic about growing the vegetable, and Peter hummed at that. You felt him rest his chin on your head as you knelt, and if Laura was uncomfortable with his presence, she didn’t show it. You’d kind of gathered that it wasn’t normal for any of the men to be so involved with activities that had been dubbed as something solely for the women in the house.

Peter was just very lenient and accommodating with you.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Steve didn’t like it very much. If the blond had it his way, you would’ve been in the basement several times over by now, and any whiny request you made of Peter would’ve been answered with a spanking. That train of thought had a spark of gratitude flowing through you, and absentmindedly, you reached up to cover Peter’s hand on your shoulder with your own.

Laura glanced over at the action, but otherwise said nothing.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

Those were the words you woke up to a few days later, eyes blinking open and face twisting in confusion as Peter’s face materialized before you. He hovered over you, one hand pressed into the bed at your side and the other resting on your stomach, playing with your fingers there. You stared at him in silence for an embarrassingly long amount of time. You heard what he said, but you couldn’t quite make sense of the words.

It was your birthday?

You paused to think back on how many months had passed, and with shock, you realized that Peter was right. It was certainly your birthday month, and while you didn’t keep up with the days as well as you would have liked—they all blended together now—Peter had no reason to lie. In fact, you were sure that Pepper had mentioned the date the other day, and you hadn’t even made the connection that your birthday was fast approaching.

The thought made you…sad.

This time last year, you’d been planning that trip with Wanda and MJ and Pietro. You’d been excited to look back on the memories on your next birthday, probably even planning another one. This time last year, you’d been free and cutting a cake that your mom had baked and cleaning up a mess after Pietro had smashed your face into the icing.

Now…

Now, you were in a prison. Your friends were dead, your mom was alone and probably stressing herself into an early grave over you, and you were staring into the face of the man who’d made it all happen. You were celebrating your birthday in a house that you didn’t want to be in and surrounded by people you didn’t want to be near. The thought made your eyes water, and Peter noticed, his face falling as he straightened.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” he quietly wondered, touching your chin. “Why are you crying?”

You tried to hold them back, but your tears spilled over against your will, and your lips trembled.

“I shouldn’t be here…”

Realization hit Peter as he sighed.

“I’m supposed to be with my friends,” you tearfully told him. “…and my mom.”

“I know,” Peter breathed, moving closer and pulling you into his arms.

You pressed your face into his chest, trying to hold in your sobs, but it was no use.

“…but I’m here…and you don’t have to lift a finger today…”

Peter’s voice was soft, hopeful, as he tried to cheer you up.

“We can stay outside as much as you want,” he told you, stroking your back. “…or we can stay in here all day. Anything you want.”

You knew that ‘anything’ had limitations to it, but you still pulled away at the mention of being outside all day. Ever since you could, it was all you really wanted to do. Peter’s smile told you that he could see it in your eyes, and he reached up to wipe your face.

“The girls are going to cook your favorite,” he continued, gently cleaning your face. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It did…and it didn’t, but you nodded anyway.

You were having the hardest time accepting that it was actually your birthday. Even as Peter ran you a bath, something that wasn’t unusual, you still stared at the flower petals in the water in disbelief. When you made it downstairs only to be greeted with well wishes and birthday congratulations, it still didn’t feel real.

Each of the women—and Thor—hugged you, while the rest of the men only cheerfully wished you a happy birthday. It was jarring to see a smile on Steve’s face, and even now, you couldn’t tell if it had been genuine or forced.

You were one year older…and so very far from wiser.

Peter was content to lie in the grass with you by the pond. It was all you really wanted to do, just bask in the fresh air and savor this day before you had to return to household chores and allotted outside time. You could feel Peter playing with your hair and your dress as you laid there, staring at the sky and thinking on how drastically your life had changed in a year.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked you. “When you’re not crying or asking me to hold you, you’re so quiet…and I always want to know what you’re thinking.”

You blinked, frowning a bit.

“Just how different things were last year,” you whispered. “I feel like…it’s finally hitting me…that I’m going to be here the rest of my life.”

You didn’t sound or feel particularly sad as you said it. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you felt, but you knew that it felt strange. You were lying on the grass with your captor, talking to him like he was a friend while he played with you. The man responsible for your captivity was the same one you confided in. That was something you grappled with every day, and with each day that passed, that fact felt less and less weird.

“I told you…it doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Peter whispered back, his hand on your face. “I’m going to make you so happy.”

You didn’t want Peter to make you happy…but the only other alternative was to live out the rest of your days miserable and angry and scared. You felt like you were being so ungrateful to think like that, noting just how much worse you could have it. Compared to any of the other men, Peter was a Godsend, but he was still the same man responsible for your kidnapping.

You turned to watch him as he sat up, and you watched him reach into his pocket.

“When I went to check on your mom all those months ago…I also got this…”

You didn’t sit up, just watching him as he held a small jewelry box in his hands. The sight of it made your heart jump for multiple reasons, and you didn’t really know what to do as he opened it. As expected, a ring was inside, but it strangely didn’t look like a typical engagement ring. You figured that one would come into play eventually, and you hated how casually that thought passed through your mind.

It was more of a band, yellow gold and dainty. It reminded you of a tree branch—or vine—twisting and curving into a shape. There were golden thorns that caught your eye, reminiscent of a rose bush, and you felt frozen as Peter took your hand. He was careful in sliding it onto your finger, and you soon understood why.

When Peter pulled on it, the thorns dug into your skin, and you hurriedly sat up with a hiss.

“I had this custom made,” he murmured, turning your hand over and admiring the painful piece of jewelry. “You can’t take this off without scratching up your finger and possibly leaving behind a bloody mess.”

He gently played with your fingers, admiring it some more before his dark eyes lifted to meet your gaze. Peter’s expression was entirely serious as he threaded his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it, his pink lips soft on your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered without breaking his gaze. “…and I want you to be reminded of that every single day.”

He rested his chin on the back of your hand.

“Just like I am every time I look at you…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you took a deep breath.

“You understand…?”

You struggled to swallow, hesitating when he squeezed your finger, pressing the metal thorns into your skin, and you winced.

“Yes,” you told him, breathless. “I understand.”

Peter’s entire demeanor changed at that, a smile dancing along his lips as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Good,” he whispered, kissing your cheek, now. “Happy Birthday, pretty girl.”

You sat at the table as everyone around you sang.

The cake that Jane and Sharon baked was so pretty. Beautiful even. It looked like something you would’ve seen online and begged your mom to buy before she ultimately decided to just make it herself. It had the appropriate number of candles, and you stared into the flames as the song came to an end.

You felt Peter’s lips at your ear as he urged you to make a wish.

You blinked, eyes burning as you thought about the one wish you knew wouldn’t come true. The ring on your finger felt like a weight was tied to it, a reminder of just who you belonged to and the circumstances surrounding how you’d gotten here. You stared into the candle flames with tearful eyes, wondering what on earth you could possibly wish for.

Freedom was out of the question. There was no doubt in your mind that that would never happen. You considered wishing for happiness, but like earlier, you thought that you didn’t want to be happy with Peter. At least, you didn’t think you did, but living out the rest of your life in misery sounded like hell, like the worst thing that could ever happen.

…and yet, with tears in your eyes, that was what you wished for.

The other women clapped, cheering for you, but you could hear it dying down when your tears spilled over. You didn’t mean to start crying, and like every other time before, embarrassment filled you. You could feel Peter’s hands on your shoulder as he stood behind you, and when you glanced up, your eyes caught familiar green ones. You didn’t miss the concern on Natasha’s face as she eyed you.

You really did try to keep it together, even just for your own sake, but it was harder than it was supposed to be, and when everyone else grew quiet, you didn’t even need to look over to know that Steve’s hard gaze was on you. You wiped your face, but the tears just kept coming, and you heard Peter sigh.

“Here,” you heard Margaret say, her chair moving. “Let’s cut you a piece of-.”

“Sit down, Peggy.”

Steve’s cold voice was loud and clear in the otherwise quiet room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone. It was your birthday, and it was nothing at all like you expected it to be. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever predicted your birthday—any of your birthdays—being spent surrounded by a household that you were taken and forced into.

When you finally glanced over, you were unsurprised to meet Steve’s cold blue gaze.

“Jane and Sharon spent so much time on your cake…”

You looked down at that, and you felt Peter’s hands tighten on your shoulders.

“You rested the entire day, as you should because it’s your birthday…and you’re crying…?”

“Steve-.”

“You let her get away with too much, Peter!”

You jumped as Steve raised his voice, and you hesitantly looked up as the blond stood. His handsome face was taut, jaw ticking as he looked between you and Peter with anger.

“Tantrums, crying fits, holding her hand with every single chore,” Steve continued. “After everything you—and I by extension—have allowed her to get away with…and she’s still ungrateful…”

Your eyes met Steve’s then, lips trembling as he turned his venomous gaze onto you.

“You still have the audacity to cry like a spoiled brat and for what? Because your birthday isn’t at all what you expected it to be, what…a year ago?”

More tears spilled over at that, and your eyes widened as Steve strode towards you.

“You’re never seeing your friends again, you’re never seeing your family again…”

“Steve,” Margaret murmured.

“It’s high time you accepted that and stopped crying like an overindulgent child.”

With every word that left Steve’s lips, you could only manage to cry harder, and you could hear Peter saying something to him, but it was impossible to make out over the sound of your sobs.

“No, she could have it a lot worse,” you managed to catch. “You’re too lenient, too accommodating, and for what? She’s not in charge, you are.”

You could feel Peter helping you stand, and you stumbled as he pulled you against him.

“If she belonged to me…you know exactly what I’d do to straighten her out...”

The thinly veiled threat had you shuddering, more tears falling as you recalled the memory of Steve and Margaret in the yard that morning. You clung to Peter at Steve’s words, and the brunette held you close.

“Maybe you should remind her of just how bad things could be.”

Steve’s parting words still echoed in your mind when Peter brought you back to your room. He was quick to shut the door behind you both, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop crying. Steve’s harsh words combined with the surrealness of your birthday being celebrated in captivity was sending you into a downward spiral.

The worst of it all was that Steve was right. Jane and Sharon had spent so much time on that cake, and it showed. Peter did let you get away with a lot, especially in comparison to the other men, and it could be so much worse for you, but that still didn’t make your situation better.

Nothing about any of this was good.

You could both hear and feel Peter trying to calm you, but it was of no use. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as he rubbed your arms and back, soothing sounds leaving his lips, and the sound of his voice made you flinch for some reason. Pulling away from him, you reached for the ring, hissing when it only served to dig into your skin.

“Y/N, stop- what are you doing?”

Peter’s hands were on yours, stopping you, and you only cried harder.

“Get it off,” you shrieked. “Take it off, take it off!”

“No,” Peter spat back. “You’re mine and-.”

“I don’t want to be yours,” you screamed, descending into a fit of sobs. “I want to go home, and I want my friends, and I want my mom.”

You pressed your hands into your face, stumbling away from Peter.

“I want my mom,” you cried.

The other man was quiet as you sobbed, chest heaving and aching. You scooted back towards the headboard, wiping your face as Peter stared at you with an expression that was unreadable. You couldn’t stop shaking and crying, and you bit your lip when Peter stood. His dark eyes drank you in, glinting with something unknown to you, and you watched him take a deep breath.

“You don’t want to be mine…?” he slowly asked.

You pressed your lips together, looking away.

“You don’t have a choice, pretty girl.”

Unlike all the other times, the term of endearment wasn’t dripping with sweetness. There was an edge in Peter’s voice, and you sniffed as he reached for your hand. He squeezed the ring, making you wince, and Peter softly chuckled to himself.

“Steve was right, you know… Things could be so much worse for you.”

“I know,” you tearfully replied, trying to get your hand free.

“I could take you like some animal for the whole house to see like Steve…” you blinked back tears. “…or maybe I should be like Tony and make you wear a leash when I decide to punish you.”

“Peter-.”

“I’ve been nothing but sweet to you…haven’t I…?”

He looked between your eyes, and you reluctantly nodded.

“…and yet you don’t want to be mine.”

He was still holding your hand, and his free hand came up to rest on the back of your neck. Peter was leaning in, nose brushing yours as he studied your face. He suddenly sighed, his expression falling.

“This was supposed to be a happy day for you,” he murmured, frown deepening. “It’s your birthday…and I spent it with you, they made you a cake… You were supposed to be happy, today.”

You didn’t know how to tell Peter that nothing about this day could be happy. If anything, it was sadder than any other day you’d spent here. It was your birthday…and you were so far removed from the people you loved.

“…maybe it still can be…”

You didn’t really understand Peter’s words until his lips brushed over yours. It took you by surprise, and you jerked, but Peter didn’t seem to mind as he kept kissing you. His hand on the back of your neck kept you from moving anywhere, and when he deepened the kiss, you gasped. Peter took that opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, and your free hand pushed at his chest.

“It’s your birthday…you shouldn’t go to bed angry on your birthday,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed along your jaw.

“Peter-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when you found yourself on your back, Peter’s frame covering your own. The dresses and nightgowns you were made to wear were thin, and you felt every bit of Peter as he pressed himself against you. It wasn’t quite registering what was happening, and you felt almost removed from your body as Peter’s hands ran up and down your frame, lips lingering on your neck and jaw and lips. It was only when he started to push your nightgown up did the tears finally collect in your eyes.

“Peter…Peter, wait… Please,” you tearfully pleaded, pushing against him.

He ignored you, fighting against you to get your nightgown off, and your panic only grew as he struggled to undress himself too. One of his hands tangled at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back and baring your throat to him. He grazed his teeth over it, and you shuddered.

“You may not want to be mine…but you are,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear.

His bare chest brushed against your own, and he quietly kept telling you that it was okay as you cried.

“…and accepting that will make things so much easier for you…will make you so much happier.”

You shrieked, nails pressing into his arm and the other hand twisting into the sheets. He was pushing into you, slow and torturous, and it took your breath away, making your chest burn. When Peter was fully settled, fully sheathed into you, filling and warm and throbbing, he took a slow deep breath, like he was savoring the moment and feel of you.

He had you completely pinned beneath him, and you didn’t even try to hold in your sobs.

“Happy Birthday, pretty girl.”

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction

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peterdarlingg · 2 years ago

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Oh I absolutely loved this 🥰🥺 Peter rescuing y/n is the cutest thing ✨

Part Of Your World ~ p.p

pairing: Peter Parker x mermaid!reader

chapter three: out of the sea

series masterlist

“I need some legs.”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Strange asked as he put down his newspaper to see Peter standing in his doorway.

“Not for me. For my girlfriend. Perhaps you haven’t heard, but I’m dating a mermaid.” Peter shrugged like it was no big deal.

“No, I haven’t heard. I’ve been in Kamer-Taj for the last month. I’m just here to get some things.” Strange said dismissively as he gathered some things and slipped them into his satchel. He brushed past Peter to leave the room, then stopped.

“And by the way, even if I had been living here, I don’t take any particular interest in your personal life. I would like to make that clear.” He reminded Peter before walking away.

“Did you do something new with your hair? It looks amazing. Your hairline didn’t get further down, did it?” Peter laid the flattery on thick as he followed Strange down the hall.

“What do you want?” Strange sighed and stopped.

“I need you to cast a spell and give my mer-girlfriend legs so we can be together.” Peter said and clasped his hands under his chin.

“No.” Strange said immediately and walked away again.

“Please? She’s dreamt of being on land her whole life. There is nothing she has ever wanted more. I promised her I would get her some legs.”

“Well, you should not have have that promise since you have 0 way of fulfilling it.”

“But you do. You can do anything. I’ve seen it. Can’t you give my girl some legs?” Peter pleaded and continued to follow him.

“No. I don’t do favors. And I don’t mess with nature.”

“Please, Strange. She’s in trouble.” Peter begged, making Strange stop.

“What kind of trouble?” He asked and tried not to sound too interested.

“Her dad is super possessive and controlling of her. He’s gonna marry her off to someone she doesn’t love and keep her under the water the rest of her life.”

“She’s a mermaid, kid. She belongs under the water.” Strange reminded him.

“Not this mermaid. She’s always felt out of place down there. She belongs up here. She knows it and I know it. It’s all she’s ever wanted. Haven’t you ever wanted something so desperately that you’d give anything to get it?”

Strange was silent as he pondered Peters question. He thought of Christine and the watch she’d given him. Then he thought of how she looked on her wedding day.

“Bad things happen with you mess with nature. Things you would never see coming.” He said finally.

“I’ve seen you part a puddle so your cape wouldn’t get wet.” Peter pointed out.

“Is her dad really that bad?” Strange asked, knowing he was caught.

“Yes. He won’t let her do anything that makes her happy. He controls every aspect of her life. She has no freedom.” Peter told him. Strange was quiet for a minute and felt a twinge of sympathy for this girl he had never met.

“Fathers shouldn’t reprimand their daughters.” He said quietly. Peter smiled in relief, knowing he’d gotten through to him.

“Will you help her?” Peter asked hopefully, making Strange look at him.

“She really wants this?”

“More than anything.” Peter nodded. “And so do I.”

“Will you ever stop asking if I say no?” Strange asked, already knowing the answer.

“Never.” Peter confirmed. “I’ll be so annoying, you’ll wish you stayed a pile of dust.”

“Fine.” Strange said finally. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much, Strange. You won’t regret this. I swear.” Peter grinned and tightly hugged him.

“It’s fine. Just don’t hug me anymore.” Strange said and wriggled out of the hug.

“I won’t.” Peter promised and quickly let go.

“I guess I can manipulate nature just this once. If your girlfriend wants legs that badly, I can give her some legs.” Strange decided.

“Now, these legs.” Peter began. “Will they come with…”

“Come with what?” Strange asked when Peter trailed off.

“You know, everything?” Peter asked and gestured with his hands.

“Yes. She’ll have toes, thighs, ankles, all of it.” Strange shrugged. “I’m not trying to trick you. I’ll give her legs and everything that comes with them.”

“Everything, though? Like, everything everything?” Peter raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Strange asked, starting to get annoyed.

“He’s trying to ask if she’ll have a coochie or not.” Sam said as he passed them in the hallway. Strange hung his head in disappointment as Peter blushed a deep red.

“Yes, she’ll have the proper anatomy of a biological female.” Strange said as he rubbed his eyes.

“Meaning?” Peter asked for clarification.

“She’ll have a coochie.” Strange said, unamused.

“Awesome.” Peter clapped. “For her. Not me. I really hyped up Charmin Ulta Soft toilet paper.”

“I have to warn you, though. Messing with reality like this can have consequences. I’ve never done this before. I can’t promise you what the outcome will be.” Strange warned.

“As long as I get to be with her, it’ll be okay.”

“All right. I need to perfect the spell first. Give me three days time.”

“Three days time?” Peter whined. “Is there no instant spell we could do?”

“Damn. He really wants that pacific coochie.” Sam said from down the hall. Peter groaned when he realized he was still listening and stamped his feet like a little kid.

“Stop listening! You’d do the same thing if you had a mermaid girlfriend. Which you don’t!” Peter shouted down the hallway.

“Says who?” Sam shouted back, making Peter go silent. Dr. Strange sighed again and shook his head in disbelief that he actually agreed to help Peter.

“So, I’ll see you in three days?” Peter said with a cheeky smile.

“Three days. And then we are taking a long, long break from each other.”

“Deal.” Peter grinned.

Meanwhile, you were in your cavern where you kept all the things you had collected. You were showing one of your sisters, Indira, the things Peter had brought you from the land.

“What’s that?” Indira asked when she noticed the bead bracelet on your wrist.

“Isn’t it neat? Peter calls it a bracelet. He made it himself. He even spelled my name with beads, see?” You smiled proudly and held your wrist out.

“Wow. Just like the humans wear.” She gasped and touched the plastic beads in awe.

“I know. I’ve never seen my name spelled out before. And look what else Peter brought me.” You clapped your hands in excitement before handing her a butter knife that Peter had brought on one of your dates.

“A sharp dinglehopper?” She asked as she took it in her hand.

“Peter said it’s called a “knife”. And apparently, the humans call dinglehoppers “forks”. Isn’t that amazing?” You gushed.

“I’m happy for you, Y/n. This Peter might be the one.” Indira smiled fondly at you.

“I hope so. I think I’m falling in love with him.” You confessed to her.

“But he’s a human. How could it ever work?” She asked as she took your hands.

“I’m not sure yet.” You admitted. “But Peter and I will figure it out. Together.”

“Who’s Peter?” Your fathers voice came booming through your cavern, making you and Indira jump and cling together.

“Daddy! Hi. I didn’t hear you come in.” You faked a smile and held your sister close.

“Who’s Peter?” He repeated as he looked disapprovingly upon your collection.

“No one. Just a merman I met.” You lied.

“I know all the mermaids in our reef. I’ve never heard of a Peter.”

“He’s new. His family just got here from the Atlantic.” You continued to lie as your father examined some of your newest additions. Your collection had grown significantly since meeting Peter and you father could tell.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” He asked, making you gulp.

“I collect things that fall into the water, daddy. You know this.” You played dumb. He grabbed your wrist suddenly and looked at your bracelet.

“Someone dropped a bracelet with your name on it into the water?” He asked skeptically.

“It must be a popular name with the humans.” Indira came to your defense. Your father turned your wrist over and saw that Peters name was also spelled out in beads.

“Peter.” He read off the bracelet.

“Oh, right. I forgot. Peter made this for me.” You laughed nervously.

“Peter had string and beads that spelled out both your names?” Your father asked and tightened his grip on your wrist.

“I had it in my collection. I let him borrow it.” You said quietly and tried to pull your wrist away. Your father threw your arm back at you and swam deeper into your cavern to look at the rest of your collection.

“What is this?” He asked as he held up a little Spiderman keychain Peter had gifted you.

“A keychain, daddy.” You said innocently. Your father tossed it back without a care and moved on. He picked up a laminated piece of paper and scanned the contents of it.

“A love letter?” Your father said in a low voice as he slowly looked up at you.

“Yes, daddy.” You gulped and squeezed Indira’s hand for comfort.

“It’s hard.” He said as he flicked it with his finger. He’s never seen paper before since it wouldn’t last under water, but he knew what it was. Beyond that, he knew there was no way you had just found this at the bottom of the sea.

“It was laminated.” You said quietly. He narrowed his eyes at you, not knowing what that word meant but not wanting to seem weak.

“Don’t use big words like that. You don’t know what they mean.” He sneered at you.

“I do know what it means. It’s when you put a piece of paper in a machine and it covers both sides with a layer is plastic to protect it.”

“And Peter did this?” He asked when he saw Peters name at the bottom.

“Yes, daddy.” You said with less confidence this time.

“Under the sea?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” You squeaked out, knowing he didn’t believe you.

“You’re lying to me. This is from a human, isn’t it? All of this is from a human.” Your father bellowed as he used his trident to smash parts of your collection.

“Daddy, no! My collection.” You cried out and tried to stop him from breaking anything else. You’d spent your whole life building your collection. It was all you had in the world. Watching him destroy it in a seconds felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest.

“I am so sick of your obsession with the humans. This is all human garbage. I won’t tolerate it anymore.” He shouted as he continued to break your prized possessions.

“No!” You cried and caught whatever was floating around you.

“Humans killed your mother. They will kill you too.” Your father screamed at you.

“Good! I’d rather be dead than live down here in this prison.” You screamed back at him.

“When I find this Peter, he will feel the wrath of Titans mighty trident.” He threatened and swung his trident at you. You quickly swam away from it as Indira swam away scared.

“But daddy, I love him!” You professed.

“You can’t love a human. I’ll be arranging your marriage to one of the mermen in the reef straight away. And believe this. You will never go to the surface again. You will never go so much as out of my sight. And you will never, ever see Peter again.”

“You can’t keep me from him. I love him. That’s my choice.” You stated firmly.

“Who do you think you are? You don’t get to make your own decisions. You’re not smart enough to. I make the choices around here. And I choose to forbid you from ever speaking of the humans again.” He shouted as he smashed the rest of your collection. You cried as you watched your life’s work get destroyed to pieces that floated around you. Once he was done, he grabbed the knife Peter had given you and swam towards you.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” You asked as you swam upwards.

“If you can’t keep quiet, I will keep you quiet.” He said and reached out it grab you. You dodged him and started to swim upwards as quickly as you could. He grabbed onto your tail but you quickly spun around and got loose. You smacked him with a flick of your tail and swam off in a blur. Since you explored often, you were able to lose him by swimming through every nook and cranny you’d discovered on your adventures. You could hear him swimming after you but never looked back. You darted and zig zagged until you were sure you lost him. You swam all the way to yours and Peters rock and hopped up on it just as Peter was swinging over. When he saw you already sitting there, he got worried that something was wrong. He landed and kissed you hello, making you burst into tears. He held you close and rubbed your back until you calmed down enough to speak.

“Hey, hey, hey. What happened? It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” He said as he wiped your face.

“My dad knows about us. He’s already destroyed my collection. If he finds me, he’s gonna clip my tail and cut out my tongue. I’ll never see you again.” You cried against his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let that happen. No one’s gonna hurt you, baby. I won’t let them.” Peter assured you.

“If we want to be together, we have to run away. Now. Were you able to talk to your people about getting me legs?” You asked and gripped his shirt.

“I was. But my sorcerer friend said he needs three days time.”

“Three days time?” You sighed.

“That was my exact reaction.”

“I don’t have three days. I need to get out of here now.” You gulped and looked around for your father or any of his men that may have followed you.

“I’m gonna swim back to shore. Wait for me there, okay?” Peter said as a half baked idea came to him.

“What’s the plan, Peter?” You asked him. Peter cupped your face and pulled you into a long kiss.

“The plan is I return the favor and rescue you.” He said once he pulled away.

“I like that plan.” You smiled softly. Peter kissed you one last time and then dove into the water. He swam until he reached rocks that he could swing off of off to get himself back to shore. By the time he got there, you were waiting in a bed of seaweed that concealed your tail. You’d never been this close to the shore before and it almost made you forget the situation you were in. Once Peter landed, he scooped you up and carried you to the beach.

“Why are you so heavy?” He groaned and struggled to run on the sand.

“I’m a human sized fish.” You reminded him.

“Oh. Right.” Peter realized and continued to carry you up the beach. Luckily, the sun had set and no one was around for miles so you didn’t have to worry about being seen. Peter was focused on getting you to his apartment without being seen, but you were focused on the world around you.

“My first time on land.” You whispered to yourself as you took in absolutely everything around you. The sand, the lights from the cityscape in front of you, the salty breeze, and the sound of seagulls in the distance filled you with the greatest joy you’d ever known. Peter noticed you looking around in amazement and stopped to give you a chance to see it all.

“Do you like it?” He asked, catching your attention.

“I’ve spent my whole life in the ocean. I’ve never been on the beach.” You sighed dreamily and looked around again.

“I’ll take you back one day. But first, you need your legs.”

You grinned and nodded your head as Peter continued walking. He carried you to the street and started running in the direction of his apartment. Since he needed two arms to carry you, he couldn’t use his webs.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to carry me all the way to your house?” You feared as he ran through the back streets of the city with you.

“I’m super human, remember? I got you, girl.” He said suavely.

“Okay.” You sighed happily and rested your head on his shoulder. Luckily, Peter didn’t live too far from the beach and was able to get you back to his apartment within 20 minutes.

“Okay. We’re here.” Peter said you arrived.

“This is where you live? It’s huge.” You gasped and looked at a building for the first time.

“You’re impressed by this? Wow. You really don’t know much about the above world.” Peter said out of the corner of his mouth.

“How will we get in?” You asked him.

“Great question. How am I gonna get a mermaid into my apartment without May seeing?” Peter chewed his lips and tried to think.

“Oh right. I can climb walls.” He remembered. He carefully maneuvered you around his body so that you could wrap your arms around his neck while he climbed the side of his building. It wasn’t safe to swing with you like that, but a quick climb felt okay. Once he got to his window, he opened it and threw you inside. You bounced off his bed and rolled onto the floor with a heavy thud. Peter quickly shut his window and was about to apologize when you sat up with the biggest smile.

“Your floor has hair!” You gasped and rubbed your hand on his carpet.

“That’s called the carpet, darling. And I wouldn’t touch it too much. There’s about a thousand Dorito crumbs in there.”

“What’s this?” You asked and patted his bed. Peter scooped you up and laid you down on his bed before explaining.

“This is called a bed. It’s where I sleep at night. Do mermaids sleep or are you guys like sharks?”

“We sleep. Usually on a pile of seaweed. Nothing like this thing.” You said as you rubbed your hands up and down his bed. You winced suddenly and rubbed your waist where your tail met your skin.

“Are you okay?” Peter worried.

“Sorry. My tail gets itchy and tight when I’m dry for too long.” You winced again and shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, shoot. Let me run you a bath.” Peter said and quickly went into his attached bathroom. He waited for the water to get warm and then went to go get you. When he came back into his room, he found you chewing something.

“Um, sweetness, what’s in your mouth?” Peter asked calmly. You shrugged and held up a stick of deodorant with a bite taken out of it.

“Candy. Like the Sour Path Kids.” You said through a mouth full of deodorant.

“Oh God. Oh no. Okay. Let’s put that down.” Peter smiled sweetly and took the deodorant from your hands.

“Just one more bite.” You whined and tried to hold on to it.

“I’ll get you some real food once you’re in the bath.” Peter promised as he scooped you up off his bed. He carried you into the bathroom and gently put you in his bathtub.

“Okay. Stay here. I’ll go get you some food.”

“I can’t really go anywhere else.” You reminded him as you flicked your tail up and down.

“Right. Sorry.” He smiled tightly. He felt guilty when he looked at you in his tiny bathroom knowing you were used to swimming in the open ocean. He left the bathroom and soon returned with some of your favorites foods. He sat on the bathroom floor with you and ate while Peter explained all the things in his bathroom.

“I’m just so happy you’re here.” Peter said as he slipped his hand into yours.

“Me too. I’m finally on land!” You gushed and looked around Peters bathroom. It wasn’t exactly what you imagined for you first time on land, but it was still something you never thought you’d get to experience.

“And I’m with you. That’s the best part.” You turned back to Peter and squeezed his hand. Peter squeezed yours back before kissing your knuckles.

“You’re safe now.” He promised you. “And all we have to do is keep you hidden from my aunt for the next three days. Then you’ll get your legs and we can live like a normal couple.”

“Easy.” You smiled. “How hard could that be?”

🌊🌊🌊

Tag list 🧜‍♀️

@hallecarey1 @melodicheauxxlovesfood @milktealvrr @cashtons-wife

@hollandweather @fanfictioniseverything @marauders3 @preciousbabypeter @beau-the-frog0

@1-800-call-ria @justsomerandomfanfic @un06 @miwagila @dessxoxsworld

@venuslayla23-blog @a-goala @z3tabyte @parkersgirly

@pixiexdusts-world @wvndavwsion @meowkid1000 @betzabobababi

@boxdisappeared @lnmp89 @anarchistsons @zerodotzer0 @etheriaaly @hufflepuff-n-fluff

@espressopatronum454 @brittney69 @everythingabby101

#not her eating a stick of deodorant tho #this chapter was low key sad #but Peter makes everything better #as per usual #I’m enjoying the hell of this series #y’all better read and reblog this #read #peter parker x mermaid!reader #peter parker mermaid au #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #peter parker imagine #Peter Parker fluff #Peter Parker angst

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dixonsbrat · 11 months ago

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𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; your valentine’s day takes a turn when what you think is just a surprise from peter turns out to be a lot more than you bargained for.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; mcu!peter parker x fem!reader, fluff, some mentions of anxiety, but mostly just peter being an oblivious lil himbo baby.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 3.4k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this is a repost from my old acc x

with valentine’s day just around the corner, it was easy to find yourself paranoid about the entire holiday and what exactly it meant for you and peter.

while for most people, it was a celebration of love and being able to embrace that, for you, it had become an anxiety-induced menace of a day that had you second-guessing everything.

the worst part of all was that you and peter technically weren’t together.

yet, as the days grew closer and you continued to get your hopes up, it was hard not to feel disheartened when he hadn’t uttered a single word about it. leading you to wonder if he had even given it any thought or if you were simply just getting in over your head about the whole thing.

to any stranger passing you by on the street and witnessing just how affectionate you were with each other, you looked like a couple. heck, you had even shared the occasional kiss, sometimes a little more, and on days when you would go to his apartment to study, it was never long before you’d find yourself snuggling in his bed while he tried to do homework over the top of you.

you never really cared to put a label on your situationship until now, and mostly because you didn’t think you had to.

but when the day finally arrives and peter was yet to exhibit any efforts in the name of romance, you were devastated.

“so, he really hasn’t said anything?” mj asks as you head to your locker, having just finished your last class of the day.

“nope. not a word,” you shake your head.

with her brows furrowing into a scowl, mj exhales, “man, i really thought he would have. i mean… it’s peter. the dude is literally the biggest softie i have ever met.”

despite the sadness you were feeling, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at your best friend’s words. she was the only one that knew how strongly you felt for peter.

after all, she was the one to point it out.

“i don’t know, maybe i’m just looking too much into it?” you lift your shoulders into a shrug at the same time you reach your locker.

“well, speak of the devil,” mj gestures towards the end of the hallway where peter and ned had just rounded the corner.

it only takes them a moment to catch sight of you, and when they do, peter beams with a smile and waves before heading in your direction. even as they passed by multiple girls carrying flowers and the various heart-shaped decorations scattered all over the halls, peter still hadn’t noticed.

“hey! ned and i were talking about going back to mine to study for that test we have coming up, and maybe watch a movie. you guys in?” he asks, tugging on the straps of his bag, completely ignorant to his surroundings.

it was like he had forgotten about the holiday’s existence altogether, or he was actively trying to avoid it. but why?

“i can’t. i, uh, i actually have a date tonight,” mj says, tucking her hair behind her ear as all eyes turn in her direction.

“wait, what? with who?” you ask, this being the first you were hearing about it. honestly, you were surprised she had even told you at all.

shaking her head, she looks down at her feet and shrugs, “just this guy. it doesn’t matter. but, uh, y/n is free tonight so… there’s that.”

the second the words leave her lips, peter’s attention returns to you. and you weren’t entirely sure, but it almost looked like he was relieved that you had no plans.

a small smile dangled on the corner of his mouth, and his deep brown eyes softened as they met yours. “oh, okay. well, uh, do you want to join us?” he sort of fumbles over his words.

while it wasn’t exactly what you had imagined spending the most romantic day of the year with peter would be like, it beat having to sit at home alone wallowing in your own self-pity. even if it was with the person causing it… and ned.

you open your mouth to speak when you’re interrupted by ned’s phone.

“actually, change of plans,” he says. “it’s betty… and she wants to see a movie tonight.”

“i thought you two broke up?” mj narrows her eyes with confusion.

“we did… but maybe she wants to get back together?” he turns to peter with hopeful eyes, and after a moment, the other boy gives him a nudge.

“dude, go!” he laughs. and just like that, ned rushes down the hall in search of betty, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as you let out a chorus of chuckles.

“on that note, i better get going too,” mj says once the laughter faded into sighs and points the same way ned had gone. “i’ll see you losers monday. have fun, studying.”

rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye to the girl, as the thought of being alone with peter all night creeps into your mind.

the idea alone causes your heart to fasten, thrumming loudly in your ears as your mouth becomes dry with nerves. it wasn’t like you at all to be so anxious around peter, and so much so that you almost couldn’t think straight. he was typically the one person you went to when you needed things to slow down, not make them difficult.

you try to play off the effect he was having on you as you close your locker and swing your bag over your shoulder, but the second your gaze meets his again, it only seems to amplify.

“so, it looks like it’s just you and me,” he shuffles awkwardly on his feet, tightening his grip on his bag straps once more.

“uh, yeah. looks like it.” you smile, swallowing the ball that had formed in your throat, and the two of you slowly head towards the exit.

the walk back to his apartment is quiet at first, but the second peter starts talking about the chemistry assignment he had coming up, there was no stopping him. though, you couldn’t shake the feeling like he was purposely trying to prolong the walk.

he insisted that you take the longer route, which you never do, and he even slowed down his pace through the park. and as you were passing the deli-grocery, he stopped off to buy you both a sandwich, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it did add another fifteen minutes to your time.

it was like he didn’t want to get back to the apartment, like the thought of being fully alone with you was something he didn’t want to partake in.

when you do finally reach the apartment, however, he fumbles to unlock the door and almost drops the keys in the process, but the second it’s open, you’re hesitant to even step inside. you had been there a million times before but this time, for whatever reason, felt different.

you wondered if it really were such a good idea for you to be there, to be alone with him when he was clearly opposed to the idea. which was odd considering he had been the one to initiate you going over there in the first place.

“do you want a drink or anything?” he asks as he passes the kitchen to put his bag in his room.

most days, you would follow him straight to his room, sometimes even beating him there, but with how he had been acting, it just didn’t feel right. so you lingered in the living room instead.

at least, until he pops his head out of the door, and with a reassuring smile surfacing on his lips, he gestures for you to follow.

“we’ve got water, juice or soda?” he asks as you enter the room, dropping his bag at the foot of his bed.

“water is fine,” you nod.

“okay, give me a sec,” he nods back, and having to cram past you to get out of the door, his hand runs down your arm so to not squish you. the touch immediately sends a pulse throughout your body, causing you to let out a small gasp.

you were just grateful peter was far enough away that he hadn’t heard it, or if he did, he didn’t show it.

with peter leaving you alone in his room, you take the chance to take it all in like you hadn’t been there before. you drop your bag beside his and slip out of your jacket before falling into a stupor on his bed.

peter’s room had always been comforting to you, though, since the blip, it didn’t quite feel like it was his anymore.

like everyone else that tragically disappeared, peter lost the majority of his belongings, as did you, but he no longer had any of his action figures or comic books. even the nerdy science posters that you would pick on him for, or his lego models - all the things that made peter’s room… his… was all gone.

shaking away the thoughts, you bury yourself in the comfort of his sheets, letting your fingers dance across the cotton as you wait for him to return. but when you move to grab your phone from your jacket pocket, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

it was the smallest glimmer of something red inside his closet, and the door was only open a crack, but it was enough to make your thoughts go wild.

was it possible that peter had bought you something for valentine’s day and this whole thing was just a ruse to get you alone with him? were ned and mj in on it? or had he decided against it, thinking that maybe it was too much, and that’s why it was hidden away in his closet?

perhaps that was why he had been acting so strange and why he had been pretending like today was nothing but any other regular day?

however, before you get the chance to relieve your suspicions, peter walks back in with two glasses of water, and when he sees that you had already made yourself comfortable, he draws in his bottom lip as a nervous smile takes hold of his features.

“something tells me you have absolutely no intention of studying,” he shakes his head.

“something tells me you’re right.” you pat the spot beside you, and he obliges, pulling his laptop from the desk beside the bed and finding a movie for you both to watch.

while you enjoyed laying with peter in comfortable silence, watching the film he had chosen, you couldn’t stop thinking about what was in his closet. the tiny sliver of red teasing you from between the slats, begging for you to confront it.

nevertheless, it takes two hours for peter to finally leave the room again, and within that time, he hadn’t mentioned it at all. which only made you all the more curious.

so the second he stepped out of the room, you set into motion to find out what it was he was hiding. and you knew you shouldn’t have, but not knowing was killing you, and you simply couldn’t help yourself.

you tip-toe across the floor, avoiding the creaky spot in the middle, and after a deep breath, you slowly open the door. though, what you were expecting to be a heart-shaped balloon or a cute stuffed animal that said something like ‘be my valentine?’ on the front, was far from what you had imagined.

instead, hanging on the metal rod was a suit. a suit that you would recognise absolutely anywhere with it’s distinct red and black colours, and who could forget the unmistakable mask with its intricate detailing.

then it hits you, and a shiver of realisation rolls down your spine.

setting out a gasp, you drop the suit to the floor and stumble back into the bed, knocking over a book in the process. you couldn’t believe what you had just discovered, and you barely get a moment to collect yourself before peter comes running to the door.

“hey, are you-” he stops the second he sees the suit, his smile falling as he takes in your bewildered state and it transforms into a look of horror.

“peter, i-”

“shit,” he exhales, cutting you off as he reaches for the material and throws it back into his closet as fast as he can, despite knowing that the damage was already done. “don’t look at that. that’s nothing. completely and totally nothing.”

“peter, was that - are you?” you try to get the words out, but you’re still in so much shock that it seems near impossible to do so.

“no. nope. It’s not…” he shakes his head rapidly, leaning against the closet now. “it was, uh, it was a gift from may. she knows i like superheroes, so, y'know?”

“peter…”

“it’s nothing, really. i promise. it was just a-”

“peter…”

“i was thinking of maybe even wearing it for halloween this year, what do you think? you could go as black widow, or umm, captain marvel?”

“peter!” this time when you say his name, he stops talking, realising that there was no way he was going to get out of this. and if he did, it would be a miracle. but you were smart, smart enough not to believe the nonsense that was pouring out of his mouth, and know that this was for real.

his head falls with defeat, and he drags himself to sit beside you. the air was heavy now, filled with worry as he tried to choose his words carefully. there were only so many ways you could tell someone you had a secret identity being a superhero and he had wanted to do it perfectly - but most importantly, not like this.

“look, i - i hated not being able to tell you but if everyone knew who i was then my life wouldn’t be the same anymore."

"but, this is me we’re talking about peter. i’m the same person that knows you still wear star wars underwear, and that you secretly love it when i choose to watch twilight on movie night.” you sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “you can tell me anything.”

his eyes soften at your remark, and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “i know, but i wanted… i wanted to keep you safe. there are bad guys out there that would like to come after spider-man and you knowing who i am, only puts you in danger."

"who else knows?"

"may, ned and… mj.”

“mj?” you retort.

“to be fair, i didn’t tell her. she worked it out herself and i swore her to secrecy so don’t be angry at her for not telling you.” he raises a finger to further prove his point. “i was actually planning on telling you about it tonight, but every time i thought about it, i got nervous and i couldn’t do it.”

“so that’s why you’ve been acting so weird?” you ask, nudging the boy’s shoulder playfully as relief washes over you. “and here i am thinking that it was me. the only reason i looked in your closet was because i… i thought… never mind it’s stupid.”

he chuckles, “no. you have to tell me now!”

you let your head fall back for a moment, and after letting out a deep breath, you sway your head back down. “okay. i saw the red through the cracks and i thought that maybe… it was a valentine’s day present. i know we never really put a label on… us… but i just, i don’t know, i thought that maybe that’s where we were and-”

your words turn into muffles as peter presses his lips to yours in a swift movement, and you’re taken back by his actions but you don’t push him off. your body feels electric and you kiss him back with a smile, sinking into it more before he pulls away.

he doesn’t pull back much, and instead, rests his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath. your heart thumps in your chest and you’re still so close that you were sharing the same air.

peter had kissed you many of times before, some of them turning into heated make-out sessions but this was different to any of those. this had purpose.

“sorry, you were rambling and i couldn’t help myself.” a coy smile flashes across his face for a moment, before being replaced with a look of uncertainty. “was that enough for you to see how i feel about you? or would you rather i change my relationship status too? or i could just post to the entire world about how much i love you?”

upon hearing the words, you pull away and a shallow gasp escapes you. you weren’t sure if peter had meant to say it, but whether he did or not, it was out there now and your heart pangs inside your chest as your stomach fills with butterflies.

“you love me?” you say between breaths and disbelief in your eyes.

he lets out a nervous laugh as his cheeks redden, and his fingers play with the folds of his shirt. “i mean, yeah… you’re kinda my favourite person in existence. it’d be hard not to.”

“really?”

he nods and walks back over to the closet. “yeah. also if you had of looked in the other side of my closet you would’ve seen this…"

you watch as he opens the closet door to reveal a beautiful bouquet of white and red flowers all wrapped up in bright red paper.

"i was going to give it to you when i told you about… y'know…” he widens his eyes. “but you sort of did that for me… plus, there was also this.”

this time he pulls out a small bag, something that you’d find at a jewellery store, and hands it to you. you look to him as though to be asking permission to open it, and he nods, gesturing for you to do so before leaning against his desk.

“it’s not a lot, and i’ve been saving for a while now to get it for you, but if you don’t like it then we can exchange it or get something else…”

opening the bag, you find a small box with gold detailing around the sides. and when you open it, inside sits a bracelet decorated with charms, but the one in the middle, that you can’t really see unless you’re looking close enough is a 'p’.

after a moment of basking in the sentiment of it all, you lean back and give him a warm smile.

“i love it,” you say, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes as your mouth involuntarily starts to crease. “and i love you.”

“yeah?” peter’s brows twitch, his eyes never leaving yours, and he lifts your palm to his lips for a feather-light kiss. he barely touches you, but it sets your skin alight.

then all of your focus is on him as you stand to meet him, enveloping him in another kiss. hands moving along his chest to fall behind his neck as he wraps his own around your waist and holds you tight. pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

when you do finally pull apart, he clasps the bracelet around your wrist before you slide your fingers through his, savouring the warmth of his skin against yours.

“so, since you have two identities does that mean i get double the love?” you let out a small chuckle and peter matches it.

“i think i could manage that.” he says and places one more kiss on the tip of your nose.

#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 ᡣ𐭩 #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff

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lilislegacy · 2 months ago

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What are your Percabeth children name takes?

Because some people think that he’ll name them after his friends who have died and other people are like “No he wouldn’t do the Harry Potter thing” (sorry Harry Potter fans) but the implication that Harry Potter has here is that they would be weird names.

I personally believe that the names Percy would use would be:

Charles: who was Percy’s friend, not just someone he knew who died, they were good friends

Zoe (not really sure how to explain this one)

And Luke

Luke is where I have to actually explain because they’re not naming their kid after someone who almost destroyed the world but ended up a hero in the end. No

Luke would be names after the kid who took Percy in

The kid who called Annabeth his sister

The kid who got Annabeth to Camp Half-Blood alive

Luke is named after the kid who died the second he decided to steal that lightning bolt

So here’s the thing. I see what you’re saying. And honestly, I never really had a problem with Harry Potter’s kids names, besides Severus🤢. James Sirius is a handsome name, Lily Luna is adorable, and Albus could be cute if he was called a nickname like Alby. But I really don’t think Percy and Annabeth would name their kids after their deceased friends. And it’s not because it’s “cringey,” but because, as we’ve learned, names hold too much power in the demigod world. And it’s sad because I really do love both the name and the character Charles, and I love thinking about them having a son named Charlie, but I just don’t know if they would do that to their kid. So I think they would end up giving the kids names that have either no sad ending attached to the name or no greek history at all.

I just believe that Percy and Annabeth would want their babies to have their own names and make their own stories. With as powerful as the two of them are, their kids are going to be regular demigods. They are going to go to camp and go on quests and be in danger. Monsters will attack them. And Percy and Annabeth are going to be terrified that they won’t be able to protect them. And it’s true, they can’t keep them safe forever. But at least they can give them a safe name.

I’ve always imagined them having 2 boys and then 2 girls. I don’t know why, and I’m not saying that that’s going to happen, but that’s just what happens in my brain. And I really only have names for the 1st boy and the 1st girl. I like the thought of their first son having a “P” name, because Percy and both his dads, Paul and Poseidon, have P names. So maybe like Preston or Parker. Or perhaps even Peter, a greek name that I think is only connected to Peter Pan. For the first girl, I love the name Sophia, and people call her Sophie. It’s a beautiful name, it’s greek but has no story, it means “wisdom,” it’s an “S” name like Sally, and it flows well with Jackson. (I’ve been gatekeeping that name for a long time lol.) I’ve always imagined the 2nd boy being named Charlie, but again, I don’t logically think they would do that. You know what I mean?

#i think i just love the name charlie #and it just happens that percy had a dear friend named charles #but no i don’t think they would do that to their kids #they can’t protect them from monsters but they can protect them with their name #percababies #percabeth kid names #percy jackson #annabeth chase #answered ask #percabeth #pjo #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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periprose · 1 year ago

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Angsty/Sad imagine idea for insomniac!peter parker

Reader dies in his arms or he visits her grave for the first time and he says something like "we weren't supposed to end like this" and its just sad....

😭 this ask made me sad but also excited to write! Thanks for requesting it.

"How is Spider-Man supposed to reach us in time?" The woman tied up next to you quivered in fear. "Those assholes having been taunting their guns for the last twenty minutes... oh God..."

You never worried if Peter would show up to rescue you in time. Ever since Fisk had gotten jailed, multiple up-and-coming criminals had taken this as their chance to shine.

Unfortunately for you, that meant being kidnapped or harassed, and often you'd get out of those situations thanks to the police- but being Spider-Man's girlfriend sometimes had it's privileges, namely that you could text him discreetly for help and he'd be on his way.

You always felt bad about it. You knew there were worse, harsher things happening out there. But Peter always insisted that you ask for help.

Usually it would end in a quick brawl, and you'd be safely thwipped into his arms, no harm done as you'd swing back to your apartment in safety.

This time, though? It's a lot more serious. These thugs want to "directly send a message to Spider-Man", and it's by poor luck that they've discovered your connection to him.

Every once in a while, they taunt you, but you're sure Peter will rescue you. You've sent him a text and he's read it- he must be frantically swinging right now.

"He's coming, don't worry." You try to comfort the woman beside you, but to no avail- she mutters that Spider-Man doesn't deserve a girlfriend if this is what happens to her, and that you need higher standards.

"This one's getting too confident, boss." One of the thugs kicks your side after hearing your remark, and you wince. "Being pretty won't save you now, bitch."

The woman next to you shrieks in fear- but she suddenly gasps in relief, and you see him, red-and-blue Spider-Man saviour swinging directly to the intersection you're currently kneeling at.

"I've got you, stay down!" Spider-Man shouts at you and the other hostages. He doesn't have a hint of his usual, tension-breaking humour, and it fills you with dread.

The pavement hurts your knees, but you stay down, not wanting to draw attention now as Spider-Man attacks and webs up your kidnappers. He's putting a lot more emphasis into his punches- it seems like they've really ruffled his feathers this time.

Of course, Peter's actually furious- he doesn't know how they figured out your connection to him, and he's desperate to take you away and hide you somewhere safe.

He wonders if he can convince you to move to New Jersey.

After a blur of punches, Peter sees that there's just one more guy to defeat- he swings forward, the guy shoots his gun, a flurry of bullets ricocheting everywhere, and Peter doesn't care about the sudden searing pain in his side- he takes him down.

He turns- hoping that you're still okay to go home now- but the woman next to you is crying hysterically, pointing to your slumped over body.

Oh no. Oh no. No, no, no.

Peter starts running, not with the confident poise of Spider-Man, but with the fear of a young man about to lose the one person he truly, truly cared about.

He scrambles over the pavement, where you're lying in a pool of your own blood, gunshot wounds scattered across your body- it just seems unnecessarily unfair, so needlessly cruel that the universe decided that you would take all those bullets. They should've hit him- he would've gladly taken every single shot.

"No, no. Please-" Peter squeezes your hand, as you look up at him, tears falling out of your eyes. Your face is ghostly pale, you're shuddering- but you still have enough time to say something.

"Keep... going..." You try, because you don't want Peter to blame himself for your own stupidity.

"No. Please, somebody help her!" Peter shouts, gritting his teeth, and there's nobody left here but him and you. Everyone else has ran off- and Peter's too shaken to call an ambulance at this moment. "I don't know what to do, don't- don't-"

You know what he means, and you're trying. You're using all your might to not die here, to let yourself be rescued and healed. But you can't let Peter stay agonized like this, not when he means so much to people, not when he protects so much more than just you, so you use your last reserve of energy to speak, even though he tries to shush you.

"New York... needs... you."

"I need you!" Peter yells, and you can tell he's crying under the mask. "It should've been me, I could've taken it- please don't-"

But Peter's luck always runs out, and it seems like the universe wants him to lose even more than he ever has. Your grip loosens from his hand, your eyes glaze over, and even though he sobs, clings on to you even more tightly- you just aren't there to hug him back this time.

It's been a month since Peter lost you so unceremoniously.

He stares at your gravestone in disbelief. None of this feels real- he was sure that if anyone in this world had to die from random criminals, it should've been him.

All the time, he feels like he's waiting for a phone call from you. He still swings by your apartment- your things have been removed, he can see that through the window.

Even though he saw your body being taken away into the ambulance, where you were immediately proclaimed dead, and he was at your funeral. It's like the reality of the situation is refusing to sink in his mind.

Even worse, he's taken out his rage on every petty criminal that comes his way now, as Spider-Man. J. Jonah Jameson loves it, calls him even more of a vengeance on the city, and that he should be behind bars.

Peter would be behind bars gladly if it meant you would've been safe. Maybe being Spider-Man was a mistake.

But he can't forget your last words. The last thing Peter would ever do is disappoint you, and he knows what you wanted. That he would keep protecting the city, that he would keep going despite it all.

Damn it, he hates you sometimes. Hates that you still know how to inspire hope in him, that you're such a significant presence in his heart that you're permanently etched there now. He hates how much he loves you, and how he's going to forever listen to you.

He just wishes you were here to see it through.

"We weren't supposed to end like this. It was supposed to be me and you, together, living a full life." He whispers. "It... it was supposed to be us, and our kids, our grandkids, hell even great grandkids, and then, only then, would I accept it. That we would be allowed to-"

He still can't bring himself to say die. So he lets himself swallow the agony, the sobs that always threaten to ebb out of his throat, and rests another bouquet of flowers at your grave.

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spooky-lil-spider-enjoyer · 1 month ago

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Peter Parker HCs

- He totally needs glasses but prefers contacts cause he doesn't want to get made fun of even more for being a nerd

- Listens to p!atd. Originally discovered them cause of High Hopes and now loves them. Everybody Talks by Neon Trees and Notion by The Rare Occasions are runner up's, but he loves the death of a bachelor album.

-Has all the avengers merch ever, but especially Tony Starks. Like all of them. That's the secret reason we see him having such terrible quality computers in civil war. He just blows all of his money on cool limited edition avengers shit.

- Collects his own merch as well *cough* nerd *cough*

- Eats raw ramen while using the packet as sprinkles (we used to do this when I was younger at school cuz they wouldn't let us use the microwave to heat up water and I can totally imagine him doing this)

-Has passed out at his desk while studying (all the time in fact) and will show up to school the next day with ink smudged on his face showing half of his calculous homework on his face and his hair looks like a cat sleeps in it regularly.

-He seems like the type of kid who would be absolutely amazing at math, an absolute child prodigy, and not be able to write a story in ela for the life of him.

- Wears Crocs. Him and Ned try and collect the coolest charms, it's like a weird competition between the two.

-His mom taught him how to sew when he was younger (like seven or something) so he was able to patch up all of his own stuffed animals when they'd rip. He didn't know how important that skill would be until she died. He still looks over some of the fabric they would practice on when he is sad.

-May obviously taught him Italian and he grew up eating a ton of traditional Italian food prepared lovingly by May and Uncle Ben

-Once he and Tony get a bit closer they will speak Italian over the coms on missions or talk shit with each other right in front of the team. Peter loves it cause he only ever really gets to speak it with May, Tony loves tolerates it because it makes him miss him mom and helps him feel reconnected to a part of himself he thought he lost in that damn car crash when he sees it makes the kid happy. It drives everyone else crazy though.

Thanks for reading, lmk if you want a pt.2

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nouearth · 1 year ago

Text

12 Months

peter parker x male reader.

summary: where you couldn't possibly imagine to find love and sanctuary anywhere else, you somehow find it in the presence of a boy named peter.

wc: 4.3k. genre: angst. warnings: loner!reader, sad!reader, implied abuse, implied bullying, high school senior year, slow-burn.

SEPTEMBER.

The big hand of the clock flicked closer to the end of the day, the small hand circling around the circumference to pass time.

Conversations of peers were usually drowned out with the help of your earbuds. The gentle strum of acoustics would counter the excitement of the students’ well-being; friends opinionated in after-school activities, athletes talked about the upcoming game with your rival school, artists boasted over the amount of commissions they’ve received overnight.

For the first time, you heard it all, and took it all in with an inhale, then silence as you stared at Peter Parker. The earbuds were slotted into your ear canals, but today, the wired nubs were worn to merely dull your surroundings as you awaited the intercom to bid the occupants of the building farewell for the day. Your leg shook, bouncing your book bag atop of it, and you held it steady when you hugged it close to your chest, chin resting at the strap. It appeased the throttle in your chest, but every time the classmate opened his mouth for a laugh, it swelled painfully larger. A pump to the husk of a balloon, a breath to the bubble of blue raspberry bubblegum, a vapor to the particles of billowed smoke, it continued swelling and roped your anxiety along for the journey. A part of you needed to talk to him, but the other part begged for reconsideration.

At some point, you forgot to breathe. Feeling blue in the cheeks, you finally exhaled the caught nerves. They drew out of you in shivers, spaghetti boiling in bubbling water if the warmth of your breath could change matter. While the man listened, then talked within his small group of friends, chairs and desks were gathered around to form a circle, you examined him cautiously. If Peter was to turn his head and meet the affection in your gaze, you were lucky to have the window by your side to turn back to, feigning interest in the clouds, the sky, the breeze in the trees. Until then, his smile unmasked pearly whites that rivaled the lights that illuminated the classroom. His russet hair was pushed back, wavy locks that were brushed simply so people could easily follow the pattern with one glance.

“Gooooood Afternoon, Midtown!” The intercom blared, and a warning from your teacher hushed your classmates into a sea of scatters. “Before we send you kiddos off, we would like to remind all of you that the Midtown Tigers will be playing against Weston’s Sea Hawks tonight! Show your support by attending the game and cheering for our team. Let’s show those dirty hawks that tonight will be the night that we can bounce back from our 18th consecutive loss!” It continued with its usual announcements of bus delays and afternoon activities before finally blaring that cathartic bell.

Footsteps crowded the halls, and your classmates joined its symphony in heavy to light strides. While you watched, your pace slowed deliberately as Peter’s friends bid him farewell. You overheard them asking him if he was going to join them in the mall, but he declined, blaming his absence on his aunt. They left one by one, until the only occupants were you, your teacher, and Peter.

“Peter?” You were up on your feet, approaching him from the back of the classroom as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Your voice cracked from the parched of your throat, mousy in performance, and you were unsure if Peter heard you. Your mouth opened again to call to him again, but he turned with a friendly smile, raising his brows in interest, and they closed.

“Oh, hey!” His face lit up when he saw you, or maybe you were convincing yourself. Not even your reflection looked at you the way Peter did. You were even surprised he recognized you. Cared to remember you. He hurriedly threw his books into his backpack before swinging it over his shoulder, meeting you in the middle of the row of desks. “What’s up?”

“I…” You’ve only spoken to him twice. The first was a mere greeting, and the second was a painful answer to his worry.

Are you okay? Yes.

The beating in your chest hiked in rhythms, compelled gravity to rob your voice, but you were conscious enough to steal it back, softly speaking. “I just want to thank you for… last year. I never got to… properly thank you. So, thank you…” You were intoxicated by the amount of times you said those appreciative words, but gratitude sobered you up, offering the latter a small, grateful smile.

“Oh…” The smile on Peter’s face simmered into a relieved line. He then nodded towards the door for you to follow him, and you did, silently by his side. “You don’t have to thank me, (M/N). I did what anyone would do.”

Everyone let it happened, except for you.

The hallway was quick to clear as students rushed to spend the remaining hours of their Friday without any regrets. The silence was deafening except for the squeak of your shoes and the whispered gossip between faculty members, and for a place you often labeled as your personal hell, it wasn’t so bad when it was purged of those that spawned that definition in your life.

Maybe you were walking slower, or you were keeping with Peter’s pace, or the hallways had undergone construction to stretch the floors, or the awkward silence between the both of you that blurred your perception, but the travel from your classroom to the exit of the building was a journey.

“Is he still bothering you? I don’t know if he’s in your other classes, but he’s not in mine, so…” Peter spoke up, alluding to the classmate who called you disgusting names, shoved your books to the floor, stole the change of your clothes during gym. And you wished it would stop there, at the actions of the cliché bully trope, but it never did. He pushed the door open, politely letting you out first, and you stepped into the warmth with a small thank you,’ and continued walking with him. Summer cicadas harmonized in their greeting.

“No, not anymore.” You lied, dropping that hand that once held onto the padded straps of your backpack to your side. The dark color of your pants masked the bruise on your wrist when you shoved it deep into your pocket. “I have him in a few of my classes, but luckily he’s preoccupied with his friends.”

“Geez, you got his friends too? That’s… gotta be a loud classroom.” He laughed, and you joined in to delude yourself, and Peter, into thinking everything was okay.

The sound of multiple engines running within the yellow busses reminded you how incredibly enamored you were with Peter. By now, motors would’ve been buried by earbuds, and the walk wouldn’t have been so deafening to your ear canals. But hearing Peter’s voice soothed the damage, and you wished you had a playlist of him saying your favorite words, reading your favorite novels, rescuing you with worried comfort. You wanted to continue the conversation, change the subject, but you never knew how, so it fell to silence. Again.

“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You spoke softly again, paused when you and Peter reached the end of the sidewalk. You were familiar with Peter’s route. He lived in the opposite side of your street, and the curved path to the right practically led him back to his apartment. All he had to do was follow the beige pavement. “…and thank you, again. It means a lot.” A genuine smile, one that you haven’t been able to sprout for weeks, months you could argue, and Peter’s breath hiked.

“Of course…” It took his breath away. The cloudy day was drawing in the last of its colors, but the rare hint of your teeth, the curve of your lips, made the sky above him, behind you, bloom in the softest blues, yellows, and whites. Selfishly, he wished you smiled more, because the release that was pulled from him evened the astonishment of a child seeing stars for the very first time.

“I’ll see you around, (M/N).”

OCTOBER.

The workload in your classes had picked up, and with the part-time job at the local bookstore, you were envious of customers who had finished their backlog of novels. Mainly working adults. Still, there was never enough hours in the day to immerse yourself in the world of a brave protagonist, slaying off demons and dragons in the pursuit of love. You never got to finish the fantasy novel you were reading, but you’d imagine it ended with the hero beheading the fire-breathing behemoth, and its head would be pridefully worn on a stick like cotton candy. Cheers erupted when the character returned, then roared when their love blessed them with one thankful kiss.

The ladder was anchored to the wooden, though creaky, floors as you held your breath from inhaling dust. When the door was pushed open by curious passersby, particles of dust sailed with the draft that was invited in, and you coughed into the crook of your arm whenever one floated into your throat. Though, you couldn’t be too annoyed. It also provided a test to see if the Halloween decorations could withstand the wind as they sat on hooks that were nailed into the ceilings. Spirals of orange and black ribbons roped cartoonish gravestones, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, ghouls, all the mascots of the holiday, from above. The draft animated them in gentle swings, delicate arcs that cooled the confined space of the bookstore, but as far as you could tell, none of them had landed on the ground.

“Looks great, (M/N)! I think we’re good on the hanging decorations!” Your manager, Anna, gave the metal ladder a strong pat before tending to the fallen dust. It shook in fear, and you did too, immediately clutching to the fly to stabilize it.

“Any else? We still haven’t decorated the windows.” You climbed down cautiously, making sure she was in your line of sight because for all you could know, she could be an omen.

“The stick on the ones I got suck, so I was thinking that we’ll decorate it on Halloween? Before opening?” She said, opening the door after to sweep out the culprits of your coughing fits.

“Sounds good.” You collapsed the extension of the ladder once you stepped off, folding it into a thicker shape, and nodded before returning the ladder to its rightful place in the storage room.

“Doing anything fun for Halloween?! Parties?!” Anna’s voice boomed despite the door muffling it. The natural luminous of her voice was something you usually cowered away from, especially when she called for you in front of customers. Luckily, the store was closed, vacant of any witnesses to the flare of your cheeks. Cardboard boxes stacked atop of one another, and for some reason, you were suddenly determined to face your procrastination head-on. “Horror movies?!”

“Uh…” The volume of your voice was still muted despite forcing yourself to make it sonorous. It came out in staggered breaths as you flattened the boxes with your weight, stepping on them at the crease and fold, until you were able to fold them into neat, flat shapes. “Not really! I usually don’t do anything for celebrations.”

“Seriously?” The sound of sweeps came closer to you. They sounded like laughs, almost as if they were mocking you. When you looked up, it was Anna’s fretted expression that reminded you that they were just sounds. No one was here to hurt you. Laugh at you.

It was just you and Anna. And sounds.

“Mm-hmm.” You simply answered, packing the flattened boxes into a trash bag before storing it back to where the stack previously harbored. The room felt bigger now. You exited after switching off the lights, and took Anna’s broom to sweep up the fuzzy stray materials of cardboard.

“How come?” Her shoulder supported her leaning stance as she pressed to the wall, watching you diligently work with crossed arms. She gasped out of realization. “Oh no—did something horrible happen on Halloween? Is that why you don’t celebrate?!”

“No, nothing like that!” You laughed. It was always genuine with her. Anna was at least twenty years older than you, but she still kept the youthfulness of a child. You were envious of it.

“I just…” Big sweeps to walnut flooring kept your mind at ease. The thick hairs brushed evenly, catching lint in the hay. They clung protectively onto the strands the more you brushed, the harder as well. It reminded you of nights, lonesome in your bed. No matter how hard you tried to remove those pesky lints, they always stayed. Always found a way to intrude. “—don’t have parties to go to.”

Nor did you have friends to watch movies with, or a willing family to celebrate with if all plans fell through. It’s been you since you can remember, and you’ve gotten used to it. Though, you’d never admit that to her.

The trail of your voice and the mindless polishing of walnut immediately foiled your discreet speech, but Anna knew better than to prod. From the day you came in for the interview, she remembered the timidness of your slouch, your pattern of speech, your orbs. One could argue that they were nerves, universal tremors one every eighteen year old got when applying for their first job. Then, she trained you. It was just you and her, and the shelves of delicate books. Over the next few weeks, Anna learned that you were as frail as the old spine of donated hardbacks.

Her knowledge of you only sank surface-deep, barely a scratch or a wound. At one point, she thought it was because of her personality: chipper as a mourning dove, loud as her neighbor’s lawnmower on Sundays, but compared to how she met you five months ago, it delighted her to see progress. Slowly but surely, you opened up to her. She knew your favorite color, your favorite meal, your favorite novel, and she was no longer insecure. There will be a time when she’d meet the root of your soul, and if it took a month, a year, or another, she’d wait.

“Everything okay at school?” She’s been meaning to ask. It was an exciting time for a new business, but incredibly stressful as well. Most never made it after six months, especially within an industry where independent bookstores have become increasingly difficult to sustain with the presence of technology. Anna was just fortunate enough to have seen such quick growth.

Anna took the broom from your hand, stashed it back in the storage room, then guided you to a table for two near the entrance of the store. It was her favorite spot because she loved seeing the wonderment of her customers when they left with the book they couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah,” You quickly answered and offered her a simple smile, devoid of any purpose but to pacify her worries. It worked on your parents, and you liked to think that it worked on Anna as well. “Well, they’re doing some construction in the school gym. I heard that they’re planning to add a room for—“

“That’s great, (M/N), but…” Her arms remained crossed, below her chest, and she nodded to the bruise on your cheek. Purple bloomed high on your cheekbone. Occasionally, it throbbed whenever a draft hit your frail skin. You assumed it was its way to kiss it better, and so you would let it in seek of sating the empty feeling in your stomach. “That. I meant the bruise…”

“Oh—“ Out of instinct, your hand reached up to dab at the purpling skin. Numbed at the first layer, but you pressed deeper, and you hid a jolt with a sudden clear of your throat. “Uh… cat— got me. My mom always said to never play with strays.”

It was a lame excuse and you knew it. Anna did too. Before you could see her face scrunch into a stew of concern, you turned the bruised cheek away and looked to the heights of the sky, out the window, and wished you could fly into the night.

On Halloween, the promotion regarding a sale on donated books, though only paperbacks, if you wore a costume propelled the place to a considerable height. The small size of the store felt even smaller, even more so as Anna’s playlist Halloween music blared in the wall stereo. The sound waves and chatters of excited customers confined you, and you shrunk yourself in corners where it would be coldest. Anna took care of the crowd of patrons, while you assembled the paperbacks in a neatly order within the shelves.

Anna didn’t expect you to comply in participating in the event of Halloween, so the elation in her face was immediately framed in your mind when she hugged you tight, bruising enough to beckon the former bruise on your cheek to reappear, in your Where’s Waldo outfit. Simple, but you were a simple man.

“Excuse me?” An inquisitive voice tore your focus from arranging the novels in alphabetical order. You were kneeling to fill the lower shelf that was too low for anyone to comfortable browse through, but maintained the position as the crowd seemed to have closed in on you. “Do you know if this book qualifies for the sale, or is it paperback only?”

You looked up through your artificial glasses, and the size of your eyes matched the roundness of your frames when it embarrassingly didn’t take you very long to uncover who was under the layer of green face paint. “Peter?”

“O-oh! (M/N), you work here?” His eyes also widened, but he was sober enough to reach his hand out for you to grab onto. “That’s fitting, I guess. You always went to the library during lunch—I-I mean, not that I watch you or anything. I just— happened to notice…” The heat from your palm jumped onto Peter’s when you held on and pulled yourself to your feet. You weren’t sure what to respond to first, but the closed distance between you and Peter was distracting. A fleeting feeling in your chest, and it still overstays it welcome when you backed a step away.

Peter’s never been so close to you. He could smell the scent of ocean mist that he likened to previous shopping trips ago. His aunt may would drag him to the nearest retail store and he’d spend every second of the agonizing trip smelling laundry scent boosters while she stocked up on the pantry. He laughed to himself. You seemed like the type to use those.

“Thanks, uh…” You carefully took the hardback in your hand, examining it with several cycles of flips. It was in mint condition. Usually, a poorer state allowed an extra discount. “The sale is only for paperbacks, but…” Your eyes scanned the room. Fewer people now. Anna was still busy entertaining those that came to participate in the costume contest, a sudden endeavor to drive engagement.

“I can make an exception.” There was a swell in Peter’s heart when you gave him a smile, an uncertain small one, but nonetheless, a smile that warmed his insides. He wouldn’t have minded if he had paid full price anyhow, but he also wouldn’t reject the opportunity to save money.

He followed your steps to the back, away from the engaged crowd, and stilled as you began checking him out. “Just one book?” You looked up, and his lips were already parted as if he was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

Another moment of silence as you took his card after applying the sale to his book, and your fingers drummed to the beat of the music to fill it out, awaiting the receipt to print out. Whenever you had the courage to look at him, he was immersed in the ambiance of the bookstore. Smiling to himself, to Anna, to the laughter of the crowd, and you couldn’t help but hide one yourself, to the ground. When Peter faced you again, you quickly looked away in time, and the receipt rolled out in one smooth motion.

“How are you? Is it always this busy? I’ve never heard of this place.” Peter had a habit of stacking multiple questions with his own observations, with statements, with more questions. Rambles, people would call it. He was attentive, curious, and it all made him the more endearing.

“I’ve been doing okay. Tired, mostly. Miss Wilson’s been keeping me up though.” It was your attempt at a joke, and luckily, it landed when Peter laughed in agreement, elated as if he’d been waiting for the culprit of all-nighters to be of subject.

“Right?!” Peter shook his head when you asked if he wanted a bag, and continued, tucking the book in his armpit when you returned it to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her—she’s awesome. But chill out on the essays! An essay about our essays is a task sent from the devil himself.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and a wider smile brimmed your face in support. For the first time, you felt compelled to talk, to engage into conversation. “Yeah, I missed a few deadlines, but she’s pretty lenient with late work, thankfully.”

“Really? I have a feeling it’s because it’s you! You’re probably her favorite student since you always get the right answers when she calls on you.” He laughed again to escape the awkwardness of his compliment. Subtle, but he hoped you took it pridefully.

Peter looked to the side to see if anyone was coming to conclude their purchase for the night, and was delighted to see the hardwood floor left unattended. “Are you doing anything after this? It’s Halloween, so I imagine people are probably out partying or something.”

“I’m not really a party person.” You nodded to assure yourself, mindlessly rearranging the supplies around the desk to avoid the gaze of his eyes. It sucked you in once, couldn’t look back even if you tried. It was only when Peter turned himself away that you were no longer staring into warm chestnuts. “I only dressed like this since I’d probably look a little out of place if I showed up in my usual uniform, haha.”

“You look cu—“ Peter hurriedly cut himself off, frantic before smiling again. “Nice. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” You returned his smile, soft in form. “What about you? Are you doing anything?”

“Well, I’m not a party person either—oh! There’s this new horror movie that came out a week ago! I’ve been dying to see it,” Peter sparked, gently bouncing on his toes as hope frayed within his words. “If you’re free, would you want to watch it with me?”

“Oh—“ For the first time, you had the option to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and for some reason, Peter was always at the crime of your firsts. “W-what time? I’ll have to see if it’s okay with Anna if—“

“Let me see…” Light reflected off of Peter’s faced as he searched on his phone, but a buoyant smile that revealed his teeth shined brighter. “One showing at eight, another at ten, and one final one at midnight!”

“Is… midnight okay?” You hesitantly asked, and Peter brightened.

“Midnight is perfect.”

When you left from work, you didn’t bother to call for your parents. It would’ve gone to voicemail anyhow. Instead, Anna took the excited initiative to drive you to the theater despite your assurance that walking would’ve sufficed.

Nonsense! I’m getting my coat. Hold on! Stay right there!

The mystery of what held the rest of the night for you frightened you to the core. What if everything went downhill from here? What if Peter never showed up? What if this had been a prank all along? During the car ride, you breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

And then, breathed.

Inhaled.

Blew in one continuous breath.

Inhaled.

Your chest ran steady again.

That night, Peter made you feel normal. As normal as someone like you could be.

You didn’t plan on getting your fingers buttery, but Peter assured you that his popcorn wasn’t going to finish itself. You shared your sour gummies in return. Peter jumped when a ghost flew to the screen, and you did the same from his own erratic movements. You watched the film through half-closed eyes, peeking between the cracks of your greasy fingers, prepared to be startled by the sound of a door closing, and you laughed silently to yourself because it was silly when you flinched to a cat scurrying away.

While you focused, the structure of your nose and lips, your entire side profile, were handsomely illuminated by the flickers of the screen and Peter took in the animation of your presence, a behemoth contrast of the you he’d known silently for years; the you that kept to himself, ate at lunch by himself, did group projects by himself, studied in the library by himself, walked home by himself. It was pathetic, many would heckle to their circle of friends. Peter overheard the tease and taunts, and he wanted to defend you in those moments. But he couldn’t, not until he knew you.

When you felt the air thicken, you turned to Peter and his gaze unfurled the heavy cloud between the two of you until it vanished into smoke. It sucked you in; his eyes. And you stared wide-eyed, bewildered and lost in the sea of broken stars the screen illustrated in Peter’s orbs. They twinkled with every cut of the scene, sparkling under the terror of the performer’s haunting, until they no longer didn’t when he turned away.

Crimson blanched and wilted into his face, radiated even in the dark when you followed and turned back to the screen. You felt your cheeks rivaling in swatch.

For the first time, you weren’t scared.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x male reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #nou.fics

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remotepixel · 1 year ago

Note

headcanons for platonic peter parker who wants to be your brother sooo bad

AAAA ok i want to say thank you so much for requesting !!!!!! i was literally so excited when i saw it lol.

I set this around Homecoming but didn't specify too much.

TW: yandere themes!

I imagine Peter always wanted a sibling.

-As a bullied, ‘weird’ kid, he grew up wishing he could have someone to hang out with when no one else wanted to.

-Of course, his parents always said no (since it obviously isn’t as simple as young him thought) and he never pestered May and Ben about it, too busy grieving and learning the struggles of money, but the idea lingered well into his teens.

-And, when he met you, he couldn’t help but think maybe God was granting him his wish.

He would be very clingy (to put it simply).

-If you’re in the same school, he’ll make you sit with him and his friends at lunch, walk you to and from lessons, anything to keep himself glued to your side.

-If not, he’ll be constantly checking his phone, texting you 24/7 (or calling you if he can), to the point I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a couple detentions for it.

-He acts like being away from you is the worst thing to ever happen to him.

-Like if doesn’t get a constant reminder that you’re not ignoring him and you’re just busy he’s gonna drop dead.

Outside of school, he would normally invite you around his house to build lego Star Wars or binge old movies no one else your age knows.

-I think he’d really like having things only between you two - like an inside joke or a project you work on together - both because he has an excuse to talk to you, and because it makes it seem like you’ve know each other your whole lives (something he wishes desperately was true).

I imagine Aunt May seeing you two hanging out one day, squabbling about how to properly ensemble the last piece (he’d probably go with your judgement no matter what though), and tells him something along the lines of ‘stop fighting with your sibling’ as a joke.

-The way Peter’s face would just be 😯 before breaking into a massive smile that permanently stays on his face for the next month.

-Like, even Aunt May agrees that he’s your brother, that's basically the same as her adopting you, yeah? no-

Peter is a bit delusional if you couldn't tell.

-Like, the way he constantly called Happy because he convinced himself that it was gonna go through eventually? Yeah, you’re getting the same treatment.

-He assumes you feel the same even if you so much as look at him (I bet he’ll think it’s some ‘sibling secret code’ and look at you in the same way so it looks like he understood).

That isn’t to say he’s ignorant to your emotions though.

-He copies your feelings in a way - like, if you’re sad, he’ll be as well, if you’re angry at something, he’ll be angry, etc.

-He isn’t one for violence but I don’t think he would care if Spiderman webbed/roughed up a few people who were annoying you (I don’t think he’d do much more unless you were in serious danger or he got too caught up into his feelings like in no way home).

I can’t believe I didn’t mention this before but he would be so jealous if you actually had (a) sibling(s).

-Like, he’s supposed to be your brother, but now he has to compete with people who know you so much better than he does? People who get to live with you and say you’re related without getting funny looks?

-(He lied to MJ once and it immediately backfired- he just wanted someone to actually think you and him were siblings, ok? Is that really a crime?)

-I don’t think he would have it in him to be outright mean to them, but he wouldn’t be overly nice either, just neutral enough to hide any jealously and not get banned from seeing you.

He tries not to come across as pathetic (don’t tell him he lowkey is-) but he’s never had much of a family before. Sure, he has Aunt May but everyone else? Dead, just like that.

Siblings is a whole new world for him and he just wants to be there for you, be your role model like Stark is for him, and prove that he can be the best brother ever.

I have re-read this but my tenses might be messed up </3

#RemotePixel #platonic yandere #yandere mcu #yandere marvel #yandere Peter Parker #platonic yandere Peter Parker

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angstasff · 8 months ago

Text

Remember Me Pt.1

🕸an: I'm backk, and what if I told you this came to be when speaking to a Peter Parker Ai Bot... anyways! Part 2 is in the works already, and tbh I don't know how many parts this may be. also gif creds to @mercurysstars

🕸Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

🕸Genre: ANGST, fluff (later)

🕸CW: parent death, no way home ending, kinda not exactlycanon I think

🕸Word Count: 2K

🕸Summary: After Dr. Strange did his memory erasing," the estranged daughter of Tony Stark, discovers she's the only one who remembers Peter Parker. In an attempt to restore their friend's memory of Peter, Peter and Y/n grow closer, but how long can her memory of him really last?

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡

In the heart of New York City, amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life, there was a small diner tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was a place where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of sizzling bacon, and where the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation filled the air.

It was here, in this unassuming diner, that y/n had started working as a waitress, weaving her way through the crowded tables every weekend. She had started working there part-time, while in high school, to help pay for her hopeful future at MIT, taking orders and serving up plates of comfort food to the weary souls who found solace in the diner's welcoming embrace.

It was minutes before she could clock out, and y/n had been wiping down the counter, lost in her own thoughts when the door swung open and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Tony Stark, billionaire playboy and renowned inventor, sauntered into the diner with all the confidence and composure of a man who owned the world. He was clad in a sleek suit that cost more than most people's monthly rent, his dark hair tousled and his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n was confused and nervous. She had seen Tony Stark in the headlines countless times, his face plastered across magazine covers and news articles, but she had never imagined she would encounter him in person, let alone in a place like this.

Tony approached the counter with purposeful strides, his gaze fixed on y/n with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You must be Y/n," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I've heard good things about you."

Y/n blinked in surprise, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I, uh, yes, that's me," y/n stammered, her cheeks flushing with heat. "What can I get for you, Mr. Stark?"

Tony flashed her a curt smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just Tony is fine," he said, leaning against the counter with casual ease. "I'm here on business, actually. I've been keeping an eye on you, y/n. You're smart, you're capable, and you've got a gift that most people can only dream of."

Y/n's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tony's smile faded, replaced by a steely resolve that sent a shiver down y/n's spine. "I want to offer you a job," he said, his voice low and intense. "A job at Stark Industries, working alongside some of the brightest minds in the world. You'll have access to resources and opportunities that most people can only dream of."

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. A job at Stark Industries? It was an offer she couldn't refuse, a chance to escape the drudgery of her mundane existence and step into a world of limitless possibilities. But what about MIT?

But as she stared into Tony's piercing gaze, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of her consciousness—a question she had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to confront.

"I have been saving up for months to be able to get into MIT, Why me, Why now?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Tony's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering behind his eyes. "Because you're special, Y/n," he said simply. "More special than you realize."

And with those words hanging in the air between them, Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, sealed with the emblem of Stark Industries. He placed it gently in y/n's outstretched hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Think about it, Y/n," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And when you're ready, give me a call. I'll be waiting."

And with that, Tony Stark turned and strode out of the diner, leaving y/n standing there in stunned silence, clutching the envelope in her trembling hands.

When she got home later that night, when y/n was alone in her apartment, she mustered the courage to open the envelope and read the letter inside. And as she poured over the words on the page, her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation, she realized the truth that had been staring her in the face all along.

Tony Stark was her father.

The revelation hit her like a thunderbolt, shaking her to her core as she struggled to come to terms with the enormity of it all. Her born from accidental pregnancy? She had always wondered who her father was but could have never imagined she was the daughter of the legendary Tony Stark.

But as she stared down at the letter in her hands, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The strange sensations that had plagued her for years, the memories that seemed to linger just beyond the edges of her consciousness—they all made sense now.

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡

Y/n Stark stood before the towering window of her penthouse apartment, the panoramic view of New York City sprawled out before her like a glittering tapestry. The fading rays of the setting sun bathed the skyline in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the urban landscape. From her vantage point high above the bustling streets, y/n could see the city pulsating with life, the steady flow of traffic like blood coursing through the veins of a living organism. It has been two years since Tony died, and she is still left with so many questions about herself unanswered.

Before Tony had died, he confessed to her, her real lineage. Her mother was not her mother. Her mother is dead and died when she was little. Tony revealed who your mother was. It was all too much. Of course, y/n believed him so he showed her. An image of her mother, and in an instant memories resurfaced.

In the faded image, y/n saw herself as a young child, cradled in the arms of a woman whose face was obscured by the passage of time. But it wasn't the identity of the woman that caught y/n's attention—it was the glint of recognition in her own eyes, a spark of familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine.

She remembered a time when she had been just a young girl, no older than five or six, playing alone in the sprawling gardens of the Stark mansion. The sun had been shining, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow across the lush greenery, and y/n had been lost in a world of her own imagination.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she had seen something—a flash of movement, a figure lurking in the shadows. Intrigued, she had followed the mysterious presence, her curiosity leading her deeper into the labyrinthine maze of hedges and shrubbery.

And that's when she had found her—her mother, standing amidst a grove of ancient trees, her hands outstretched toward the heavens as if invoking some unseen power. Y/n had watched in awe as her mother's form seemed to blur and shimmer as if she were weaving a spell of magic that transcended the boundaries of reality itself.

At that moment, y/n had felt a surge of energy course through her veins, a tingling sensation that left her feeling both exhilarated and afraid. It was as if her very essence had been infused with the power of the universe, awakening something dormant and long-forgotten within her soul.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment had passed. Her mother had turned to face her, her eyes shining with a mixture of love and sorrow, before fading away like a wisp of smoke on the wind.

But the memory had lingered, etched into the fabric of y/n's consciousness like a scar on her soul.

Hours were spent conducting experiments and research, exploring the limits of y/n's abilities, and pushing the boundaries of what was possible. But as the days turned into weeks, and Tony became increasingly preoccupied with other matters, their investigations were pushed to the side, left unfinished and unresolved.

And now, with Tony Stark gone and y/n left to grapple with the truth on her own, she was faced with more questions than answers. What was the true extent of her powers? How had she come to possess them in the first place? And what did it all mean for her future?

The truth is that it didn’t matter. Tony was gone, and she now was accepted into MIT, she had other things to worry about now. Well, at least that's what she thought until the “shift happened”.

It was morning, a week into winter break when she felt it—a strange, disorienting sensation that washed over her like a sudden gust of wind. It was as if the very air around her had shifted, leaving her feeling unmoored and adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

At first, y/n had dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the mind, a fleeting moment of vertigo brought on by exhaustion or stress. But as days went by she knew something was terribly wrong.

It all started when she turned on the TV and the channel "The Daily Fix" hosted by the nosy and annoying J. Jonah Jameson was on. Y/n didn’t care for the usual news but kept it on as she made her morning coffee. She was mid-coffee pour when she heard Jameson criticizing Spider-Man once again, claiming he was a coward for hiding his identity. But that didn’t make sense because he was just the one outing Peter Parker as Spider-Man, so how could his identity be hidden? It didn’t make sense, but honestly, she was too happy about her acceptance to look into it. In fact, that reminded her that she meant to gush to MJ about it.

Y/n called MJ, and they expressed their secret excitement for MIT.

"Ugh, the fall is going to be so fun, MJ. I literally can’t wait. Did you ever find out if Ned and Peter got in?"

"Oh yeah, Ned got in, but uh, who’s Peter?"

"Ha ha, very funny, MJ. Did you guys get in a fight or something?"

"No, what, Y/n?"

"Peter. Peter Parker. The nerdy guy you are like totally in love with…"

"Y/n, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I have to go. I’ll see you later. Be safe!"

"Uh, okay, bye, see you later."

Why is MJ acting like she doesn't know Peter? Y/n dialed Ned's number, her mind racing with questions and confusion. As the phone rang, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness.

"Hey, Y/n, what's up?" Ned's voice crackled over the line, filled with warmth and familiarity.

"Ned, it's me," Y/n began, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I just talked to MJ, and she acted like she didn't know who Peter was. She said she doesn't remember him at all. Do you know what's going on?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

“Peter?”

Y/n felt her heart drop.

“Ned, is this some kind of prank that you two are pulling on me? Cause it’s not funny, everything has been all weird lately and-”

“Y/n, I have no reason to prank you, I have no idea who Peter is.”

“Oh- Okay pretend I never asked, also congrats on MIT, I have to go but ill see you soon.”

“Okay see ya, I hope things get better!”

As y/n hung up the phone, her mind raced with a whirlwind of questions and confusion. Why did MJ and Ned act like they didn't know Peter? And what was going on with the strange shift she had felt in the air lately? The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together, leaving her feeling more lost and bewildered than before. But amidst the chaos of her thoughts, one thing remained clear—she needed answers. And the only person who could provide them was Peter Parker himself.

∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩彡🕸🕷🕸彡✩∘․‧₊˚∘․‧₊˚✩

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