#peter parker x reader soulmate!au

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[unpublishediary]

Focus On My Heart (peter parker)

INTEREST₊˚ Peter Parker X Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Reader also gets bit by a radioactive spider a bit later and goes through sensory overload during school, Peter comforts them through it.

WARNINGS(S)‧₊˚ Sensory overload

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You gave the person behind you ten seconds to stop clicking their pen right behind your head. When you got to ten, you turned around to tell them to stop, but it wasn't them. Confused, you looked around, still hearing the sound, but the person behind you was asleep.

Your breathing quickened when it continued. Other sounds started to force their way through your ears. Someone was drumming their nails on the desk, the crinkling of a water bottle. Your breathing quickened when it continued, the ticking of the clock, then, worst of all, the bell.

The bell was defining. It rang through your ears aggressively, signaling it was time to leave and leaving you to stumble through the door.

The world was too loud, you could hear way too much. Every heartbeat, every whisper, every breath, every footstep, and more traveled through your senses at once.

Thump.

You covered your ears and could feel the tears in your eyes despite them being clenched shut. It was overwhelming your senses. Your heartbeat the fastest of them all. You could hear the blood rushing through your head and body.

The fly was buzzing across the hall, the sound of the lightbulb as the energy zapped rapidly, every footstep, every scratch, every heartbeat, every breath, every-

"Hey," a panicked voice stood out in the sea of noises. You tried to calm down, not wanting any attention, but you couldn't steady your breathing; it was out of control.

Scratch.

The feeling of hands on your shoulders shook you into a panicked state, the friction against your clothing onto your skin felt suffocating.

Thump

"Hey, it's ok," It was the voice again. Attempting to steady your breathing, you listened the best you could, "I know it's hard, and it feels like everything is overwhelming, but I need you to focus on my voice."

You clenched your fists, trying your hardest to focus.

Tick, tick, tick…

"Please," they said, pulling your hands out of their clenched form and holding them lightly. "Focus on me, find my heartbeat." They brought your hand to their chest.

The second your hand touched their chest, you felt everything inside: heartbeat, breathing, the blood running through their veins, everything. You couldn't do it. The best you could do was shake your head. You couldn't; there were too many people, too many sounds, too many everything.

"You need to focus, their voice grew desperate. "You can feel everything, and I know, but your hand is directly on my heart, find it and focus, it'll help."

In all of the chaos going on inside your head, you directed all your energy to your palm through your pounding headache. You had to find it, to focus.

Tick, tick…

Scratch…

Buzz…

Thump,

Thump, There.

The fight to slow down your breathing became easier every time you sensed a beat.

"That's it," you then recognized the voice as Peter. "Stay focused on my heart."

You would never tell him, but his voice calmed you down more than the sound of his heart ever could.

"Breathe with me." He whispered, “You can open your eyes, the lights are off.”

The thought of opening your eyes terrified you, to go through the same thing again. You shook your head slowly in protest, trying to keep the composure you fought so hard to gain.

You felt a hand cup over your eyes, "Start small."

Your eyelashes brushed Peter's palm as you opened your eyes, through a small crack of his fingers, you could see his brown eyes full of concern. How did he know what to do? So many questions filled your brain as you became more aware of your surroundings. You were in a dark and empty classroom.

Peter noticed that you were trying to look around, "I'm gonna bring my hand down."

You nodded, and he took it down slowly. His eyes met yours in the dark. His hair was slightly messed up. His facial expression was twisted into something you've never seen on him, before you could figure it out, he looked down.

You almost laughed at the possibility of someone walking in and seeing this; they would definitely get the wrong idea. But your smirk fell once you followed Peter's gaze to his now bloody shirt.

You looked down at your palms, and blood flowed out of indents made by your nails. You didn't notice that you were crying until he brought his hand to your face to wipe your cheek. Looked up again, his face read all of the unanswered questions you had. "Later," he dismissed it. "The nurse is out so let's get this clean,” he touched your palm softly.

You didn't like the way his voice spoke to you like you were about to break. You hated seeming vulnerable, but you do owe it to Peter for helping you. You didn't know what you would have done without him. You appreciated it so you said nothing while he pulled out a small kit from his backpack, unraveling the supplies.

"Breathe for this," he warned. The cleansing wipe was centimeters away from your skin, and you nodded.

It stung, but you were too exhausted to show it, the earlier events taking its toll on you. Peter cleaned the small indents out like he had years of experience doing this with unusual gentleness.

When he was done, it seemed like he wanted to say something. You nodded your head to encourage him to speak up.

"Do you- Do you want to talk about it?"

You eyes snapped to his, “No," but he gave you an unconvinced look back. You took a deep breath and looked at him, your voice trembling slightly, "Yeah, I think I do. It's just… I don't even know where to start. It's like everything suddenly became too much, and I couldn't handle it."

Peter nodded, understanding, and put away the first aid kit. He sat down beside you, and you felt a sense of comfort in his presence. "It's something I went through a while ago," he admitted gently. That sentence left you with so many questions, but you decided against asking them at the moment. As you sat there in the dimly lit classroom, you couldn't help but feel more than grateful for Peter. He had a way of calming you down and making you feel safe that didn't make any sense. The episode had left you drained, but you knew you weren't alone, and you didn't have to face it all by yourself.

A comfortable silence washed over the dark room as you leaned on his shoulder, falling into a comfortable sleep.

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[thewriterg]

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞.

pairing(s): peter parker × fem!reader, peter parker x poc! reader, tony stark × fem!reader, guardians × fem!reader

summary: you and peter always argued about which one of you had to go first when the time came and it was too soon for you to finalize your decision

word count: 3.0k+

warning(s): soulmate au, death, crying, soul bonds dying, pet names, suicidal thoughts, Thanos, injuries, infinity war, descriptions of violence, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @that-bi-multifandom-mess & @galaxygifs— So when I thought of the reader screaming for when she’s in mourning I though of these two audios so use it don’t use do as you please

“You’re much more of a Thanos” You heard Strange say from the dimension he had You, Tony, Mantis, Nebula, Drax, Quil, and Peter in waiting for the opportunity You and the brunette sat close to each other hip to hip hand in hand reading one another’s thoughts without even trying but it was always that way

It’s what happens when you’re soulmates.

“Hey I love you, you know that?” The vigilante spider talked to you through your soul bond something that you had both learned to do a little more in vain than you both wanted

Peter didn’t expect for the first time his soulmate was talking to him telepathically was to be stuck under a pile a rubble in the midst of a panic attack trying to push his was out

“Peter, stop talking like that.” You hissed out loud even though he didn’t take it to heart you were uneasy everyone was but he felt a fraction of it and anyone could visibly see it you’re eyes were flicking a bright white and your hair started to sway softly in different directions

“With all six stones I can simply snap my fingers, they would all cease to exist and I call that… mercy.” The tone the alien of a man had could make anyone shiver instead it just made you angry

“Then you’ll find our will equal to yours” The sorcerer tapped his wrist together his sparking plates coming to form in front of his fist as a deserted and broken down quinjet came crashing from the what seemed to be thin air on top of the purple being

The portal opened as the guardians other than Mantis began to step out of the circle already on defense and as you began to walk up to the sparking source ready to jump out of and iron fist grabbed your arm

“Hey! You’re not going need you for the finale with antennas over here” Tony spoke to you as you snatched your forearm away from his grasp

“You’re insane if you think I’m not going” You seethed at the billionaire

“Mr stark she's my mate she has to come with me” Peter spoke wearily steeping in front of you a little to the side of Tony as you squinted at the pair beginning to take a step in front of them both before an iron hand had you flying backwards until you dropped on your ass and before you could get up your wrist were tied together with sticky web fluid

“No hard feelings kid” The brunette hummed calling back his metal hand as it connected back to his suit while Peter winced at your swearing protest

“Peter, I swear to God when I get ou-!”

“Sorry love!” He had stepped out of the portal before he could here the rest of your threat watching as Tony was forced back by a group of debris and rubble as he swung by his webs using his web shooter to aim at the Titans eye before throwing a punch to his jaw and Drax ran at him slicing the back of his calves with his swords

You groaned while white electricity surrounded you melting the spider fluid around your hands and you felt a hand on your shoulder before you shrugged it off getting back up on your feet hearing Mantis gasp in amazement

“You’re vibrations are so powerful!” The empath stared at you with wide black pupils in awe as you rolled your eyes it what happens when you were eight years old injected with a poison to make your heart pump rapidly while being strapped down to strapped down on a experiment table with hydra scientists thinking it would be a great idea to shock your chemical filled body with a hundred watts of energy

Instead of you heart stopping it just regulated and the electricity mixed poorly with the chemical and suddenly you could draw power from earth's electromagnetic field

You approached the sparking portal and it closed to a small circle in front of you and you tried not to scream in frustration before casting your palm out to it as white strikes of lightning and sparks of electricity mixed with the yellow and orange it rejected it as you tried to force it open to no avail

“FUCK!”

“Fuck!” Mantis repeated carefully clapping her hands together at her success and you were on the brink of whiplash as you turned to look at her with wide alert eyes

“No Mantis don’t say-”

“Fuck!?” Great, you were left to babysit.

“Mantis you don’t say fuck. Fuck is a bad word. You. don’t. say. fuck.” You stated sternly watching as her antennas dropped almost like a puppy’s ears as if it was sad and lost

“Humans way is so complicated” She muttered into the open

“Yea tell me about it” Suddenly the portal opened from under you both and you were dropped onto either one of Thanos shoulders the suddenness of it all shocked you both before you shook the feeling from your shoulders pressing your fingertips onto the titans temple a small gasp leaving your lips as Mantis did the same

Strange had sparking whips around one arm, while one of Peter Qs taser pads kept the same one in place for good measure, Peter Ps webs wrapped around his torso tugging him to his knees extra vibranium spider like legs sprouted from his back helping him stand firmly tugging on the spiderweb that kept the captivator down and Tony struggled to take the garment off his other hand that wasn’t under attack as he screamed continuously in agony before finally falling silent

“Is he under? Don’t let up.” Tony quipped struggling to loosen up the garment and Peter looked at you gaze holding concern as you head slightly twitched while you let out soft grunts and moans in discomfort he hated that you were even that close to this imbecile

“Be quick he is very strong” Mantis answered for the both of you she had more experience in the mind control department than you did but was still uncomfortable nonetheless the brunette couldn’t take his eyes off you however your hair pure white, the air becoming windy around them all, your eyes white with a soft glow behind them while you looked far away in your own mind, electricity sparking all around you but your fingertips were its main source as his soul bond screeched at him to take you far away from there

“Parker hello!? A little help get over here they can’t hold much longer” Peter didn’t waste another second before he was suddenly next his mentor gripping and pulling on the gauntlet with a groan as it loosened little by little

“I thought you’d be hard to catch, for the record this was my plan” The vigilante could’ve rolled his eyes at that You and him made the most important parts of the plan the only thing he made up was Mantis putting him to ‘sleep’ even though she told him it didn’t work that way

“Not so tough now huh? Where is Gamora!?” He questioned glaring at the titan as he crumbled on his knees

“Oh bullshit! Where is she!?” He repeated

“He is in anguish! He mourns!” Mantis whimpered

“What does this monster have to mourn!?” Drax wheezed out Peter‘s gaze immediately shifted from the tin glove to you as you suddenly gasped out of your trance before moaning heavily in pain

“Tony I can’t hold it” You cried out the most vulnerable the billionaire had ever seen you despite his few years of knowing you as he cursed under his breath Peter however couldn’t relate when it came to the subject his grip loosening on the gauntlet beginning to turn towards you

“Shit kid I know just two minutes” The brunette couldn’t tell if he was talking to You or to Peter so he settled on both and Peter was determined as ever to get this the hell over with as he tugged harder on the base of the gauntlet

“Gamora, He came back with the soul stone but she didn’t” Nebula answered suddenly and Quills attention immediately shifted towards her urging her to go on his blood running cold as she finished her sentence

“Okay Quill, you gotta cool it right now You understand? Do not, Don’t engage we almost got this off!” Tony yelled the victory so close he could taste it on his tingue

“Tell me she’s lying. Asshole! Tell me you didn’t do it” Peter screamed Tony’s yelling white noise in the background while Nebula put her head down in defeat

“I had… to” Thanos muttered and the brunettes eyes started to water his voice cracking as he spoke

“No you didn’t, No you didn’t” Suddenly his quad blaster was connecting to the titans temple Tony rushed to his side wrestling his arms above his head You and Mantis both gasped in pain taking your palms away from the beings temples as if you touched a hot eye on the stove before placing them back pressing down even firmer trying not to let the control slip

“It’s coming! I got it! I got it!” Just as the gauntlet sipped from the being fingertips he was out of the mind control head butting you with a sickening ‘crack’ you’re eyes rolling in the back of your head as he then took you from his shoulder with a crushing grip throwing your unconscious body with harsh intentions Thanos than snatched the tin glove back into his grasp causing Peter to repel backwards before quickly getting back onto his feet his senses going off like crazy

“I got you!” The vigilante made a long leap as you flew over his head catching your limp body into his arms his iron spider legs making a cage around you both blocking your body’s from the hard fall he held your firmly his hand resting on the back of your head pressing it into his shoulder panting heavily he watched as suddenly craters of the moon flew down around the both of you too close for his liking before he was back off the ground swinging through mid air fire flying past your bodies burning through old ships

“Come on sweetheart wake up, come on baby” Peter stressed yet his tone still sweet as he made the most out of his one web shooter wrapping up the unconscious guardians in the tacky web fluid one by one you still being pressed into his chest enabling him to use his other arm

“Dammit please, wake up! ” Suddenly you gasped awake lightning striking through the air creating a type of force fields around the abandoned ship Peter had found a temporary shelter for you to all settle on Your eyes and hair were pure white as you sucked in a deep breath pushing off of the brunettes chest standing on your feet tornadoes began to form whirling outside around the makeshift pod surging in the craters and extra pieces of rubble into their harsh winds you closed your eyes focusing on the biggest unfamiliar vibration before finally breathing out and as if it were an explosion Peter watched in awe as the winds traveled blatantly within a blink of an eye across the field into Thanos’s path sending him flying backwards as Tony flew after him he didn’t dawn on the fact too long his eye’s immediately darting back to you as your legs wobbled and before you could fall he was by your side gently lowering you to the ground taking your face into his palms pressing a kiss to your forehead squeezing his eyes shut tight as they watered

“I’m so glad you’re safe, im so glad you’re okay, you’re so strong, I love you, please be okay, please don’t scare me like that again, I love you.” The brunette muttered over and over pressing his chin into the crown of your head and pressing another kiss into your hairline

“I wasn’t strong enough” You whispered and Peter brung his head back to stare at you in disbelief both palms of his hand pressed to you cheeks your nose dripping a bit of blood your body slightly trembling you probably had a concussion maybe even blunt trauma

He wasn’t there in time

Now you were hurt

He failed you

His fault

It's all his fault. It's all his fault. It's all his fault. It's all his fault its all his fault all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault its all his fault-

“Peter it’s not your fault” You whispered pressing the palm of your hand to his pale cheek and he kicked himself he hated when you read his mind at the worst time and even more than now because You we’re the one hurt

“Okay, okay. Can you stand?” You nodded shakily and the brunette helped you up to your feet as you looked over to the unconscious guardians taking a small step forward and Peter grabbed your arm

“Hey if you can’t hold it, you let go.” He remarked and with a stiff nod in agreement like a silent promise you crouched down to them all pressing your palm down flat on the ground and Peter watched to carefully as small surges of electricity traveled around the floor surging into their limp bodies causing them to softly jerk until Quill woke with a loud groan his body aching

“Yea you may of hit a couple of things on the way down, not actually my fault your just super heavy” The brunette looked at the teen with an offended look before he was telepathically through across the surface of the making a dent into the metal with another harsh noise of discomfort as you fixed him with a harsh glare

“Yeah probably deserved that one” He wheezed as Drax helped Mantis to her feet and Nebula sat up where she had once lied the rage suddenly hit the Star lord like a bus and in the blink of an eye he was gone his mask over his face the sound of his quad blaster shooting freely

Peter went to wrap an arm around you putting forward his wrist to shoot a web to swing on as the guardians followed you could fly yes but he didn’t want to risk it and when you were up close like this buzzing with electricity he could feel you it gave him a sense of comfort

You all made it to where Tony barely stood injured and Peter landed you both at his side helping him stand up right as the air chilled around you yet you didn’t have a need to start a blizzard

“Somethings happening” Mantis whispered suddenly not more than a second later she faded to dust right next to where Quill stood while Tony took a careful step forward a small gasp resting on his lips Drax was next to go wheezing breathes on his lips and suddenly your heart was slowing little by little beat by beat 

“Steady Quill” The billionaire demanded

“Awh man” He whispered before he was gone into the wind as the other and Tony’s eyebrows furrowed his chest beginning to tighten yet not with death he had felt that too many times and this wasn’t it

“Tony, there was no other way” Strange called out until the billionaire looked at him before continuing and once again he was gone

“Mr Stark, I don’t feel so good” It was your turn for you chest to tighten as you whipped around to look at Peter not being able to focus on the dizziness from the sudden movement your soul bond felt weak you couldn’t channel him like you usually did

“You’re alright” Tony said firmly like he wasn’t leaving any room for arguing

“No Peter.” You rushed to his side just as he beginning to lower to the ground you pressed your palms to his cheeks and the brunette felt a small buzz around his whole body while Tony and Nebula watched you both young love wilting to a perish

“Please come on. Don’t- DONT DO THIS TO ME” Your voice raised as the small time frame windows passed you and all the vigilante did was smile at you

“I love you, so much. You have to let go now come on you promised.” You shook your head thick tears rolling down your cheeks your chest tight and aching as you tried to delay death with only your palms

“I can feel you, Peter. I-I can feel you, I can.” He nodded at you in reassurance turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your wrist placing a hand over yours before quickly flinging you arm away as he collapsed to the floor and as you went to rush towards him Tony’s arms were wrapped around you arms and waist as you thrashed around in his hold as you watched the other part of your soul turn to dust and ash before your eyes

“I love you” He whispered before he was gone. Your scream traveled across the field pleading to whatever gods were willing to listen but none did you chest felt empty and your will to live was gone

“Please kill me Tony, please kill me. please” You sobbed and the older man turned you around to press your head into his shoulder his hand rested on the back of your head into your thick hair and suddenly he was holding onto to nothing as you began to fade away your bond felt tighter as if it was resurrected and you took it as Peter calling you home now before you were finally gone

Tony collapsed opening his arms before claiming them back down as if he was trying to grab onto you but to no avail

“Oh kid.”

💌💌💌💌

Honestly not my best work but something to work me out of writers block 😊

maybe a part 2?🤔

For now my request are closed but will open back up hopefully before the month is over

THE NEW SPIDERMAN MOVIE!? LOVE IT. Hobie and Miguel the lomls I can’t wait to write for them

please answer this poll below —if you don’t I will find you 😡👹🔪—

[nessieart]

A story of finding yourself and finding love and friendship along the way. Navigating a world you've known all your life to a world of superheroes and foes alike.

A Tony Stark x Shifter!Reader story. Supernatural/Soulmates AU.

-*- COMPLETED

One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen || Fifteen || Sixteen || Seventeen || Eighteen || Nineteen || Twenty .

*-*

Part 2 AoU

One-shots:

What If...?

***

Tony and Poppy will return!

[justsomerandomfanfic]

My Sky Of Gray - Peter Parker X Female Reader

Title: My Sky Of Gray

Peter Parker X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother (Sarah) and Aunt May

Requested by Anon!

WC: 2,191

Warnings: Soulmate AU, slight angst, nervousness, anxiety, crying, heartbreak, mentions of killing, and fluff

Slamming the door shut, you rushed to take your shoes off, stumbling slightly as you made your way down the hall and up the stairs. You slid off your backpack and pushed open your bedroom door before dropping your bag haphazardly and running to your bed. The mattress bounced as you landed on your stomach, pulling your phone out of the back pocket and quickly unlocking it. You ignored the notifications as you tapped open your messages. A smile lit up your face as you saw the new text from your best online friend, Peter. It had been almost a year since you first met him playing video games. You forgot how it all happened but soon enough you were talking to each other in the gamer chats. Which then led to both playing Minecraft together on your switches, and that led to having each other's numbers. 

You texted each other almost every day. About everything and anything. Peter would send you funny scientific memes that you didn't understand and even random facts. Most nights you spent hours and hours just talking, whether that be texting or calling. You'd take until your phone was on the brink of death before you would take the time to find the charger. You really liked Peter. He was funny, sweet, charming even. He was kind of a nerd too. His interests consisted mainly of sci-fi and science theories, while yours was more of fantasy RPGs and gaming theory. He had always told you that you were his favorite gamer, which always made you blush. And on especially bad days, he'd always make you feel better. No matter how sad you were, he always made you smile. He'd send you funny videos from Tik Tok, even one time sending you a picture of a duck he saw on a walk home from school. You loved that about him; how caring and understanding he was. 

And, against your better judgment, you were falling in love with him. Every day, it seemed more and more difficult to push away the butterflies in your stomach when you heard his voice, and laugh at his jokes. He made you feel happy and safe, despite how strange it felt. He made you want to tell him how you felt, but what if he didn't like you back? What if he wasn't your soulmate? That was another issue, what if he wasn't your soulmate? Oh, how you wished he was. To meet him in real life and look into his eyes, finally seeing color for the first time. You'd wonder what his hair color would be, or his eyes... From the pictures and selfies he'd sent, his hair was a dark gray. 

Tapping on his recent text, you sighed happily, gazing down at the words on your phone. 

'Hey cutie pie! Just got back from school. You free to play tonight?' 

You frowned, turning to see your backpack on the floor, before typing away, 

'I can't. I got tonnns of hw but I wanna talk to you.'

You watched with a skip of your heartbeat as the texting bubble popped up before his text appeared.

'Bad day?'

Your fingers trembled as you wrote,

'Yeah. I'm okay tho! Promise. I just hate hw lol'

'ok, do you wanna talk bout it?'

Hunched over his desk, arms acting as a pillow for his head; Peter bit his lip as he stared at his phone screen. There was a lump forming in his throat as he waited for your reply. He hoped that you were really okay and that nothing bad happened. Peter didn't realize until recently that he more than liked you as a friend. Ever since you two started talking online, he found himself spending so much time with you. He never knew he'd grow a crush on you. You; funny, smart, sassy, competitive... You... The thought of something happening to you made his insides squirm uneasily. And the fact that he couldn't be there in person to help you with anything made him even more anxious. He wanted to be there for you. He needed to be there for you. So why did he still feel nervous? Why did it feel like his heart was trying to escape his chest? And why did he keep rereading your message over and over again?

'I just failed my test. Have to come in and retake it Saturday.' You answered as Peter grabbed his phone, staring at the screen.

'That was going to be our game day...' He replied back before adding to that, 'We could move it to Sunday?'

'I can't, mom taking me to Queens sunday, something about visiting an old friend of her from high school...'

Peter frowned, Game Day Saturday was what he always looked forward to, the first being able to hang out with you.

‘oh, ok.’ He sent, before cringing and quickly typing more, ‘do you wanna call? I could help you with your hw if you wany?’

You sputtered a laugh as you replied,

‘wany? Yeah, i’d like that.’

~~~

You leaned your head against the passenger window, watching as the houses, apartments, and other buildings flew by. You were excited to meet your mother’s friend, but you really wished you could’ve stayed home and spent time with Peter. You wished you were at home, leaned back in your spinny chair, playing Minecraft on your Switch or even playing Bigfoot Multiplayer with him on your computer. But, you know it was the polite thing to do. 

Pulling up into a parking spot on the side of the street, you hopped out of the car and stared up at the apartment building in front of you. Your mother led you into the building and up the stairs, where you waited behind her as she knocked on the door. Waiting for a moment, you heard the pitter-pattering of feet before the door opened. There, at the door was a woman, long hair, wearing a cute sweater, you noticed. She smiled, stepping out of the way to let you both in.

“Sarah! Oh, it’s been years! How are you?” The friend of your mother asked, as she pulled her into a hug.

“I am perfect, May. How are you? Are you still raising your nephew?” Your mother asked, pulling back from the hug. 

May nodded, gesturing her head to the side, “I’m good. And yes, he’s still in high school, so he’ll be here for a while.” She then turned to you, giving you a caring smile, “And you must be Y/N. You can call me May.” She spoke before pulling you into a hug as well. You awkwardly hugged her back, before she pulled back. “I’ll go get Peter. You and him can talk while the grown ups do.” She spoke, and the moment she said the name ‘Peter’ you froze up. Your heart began to beat and you held onto a sliver of hope that this ‘Peter’ was your ‘Peter’.

Your mother must have noticed your expression as May left because she placed a hand on your shoulder, “Sorry, she’s a hugger.” 

You pursed your lips, giving your mother a nod before you clasped your hands together in front of you, fiddling with your fingers anxiously as you waited. Eyes staring to the hall where May had disappeared into. As your heart swelled with anxiety and nervousness, along with doubt that this was your Peter and that he was your soulmate… Your soul hoped that he was. 

It was like you were in slow-motion when he stepped out. Donning sweats and a plain t-shirt, hair slightly ruffled as he ran a hand through it. He’s gorgeous, was your first thought. Please, look at me, was your second. Slowly, he looked up, eyes widening as he looked at you. You were ready for your world to brighten. You were waiting for the world to burst into color as you stared into his eyes… But… No… The world around you was still as gray as can be. You felt immediately chest-fallen, you felt as if your soul was snatched from you body, leaving you completely breathless; gasping for air. 

He wasn’t your soulmate. Peter wasn’t your soulmate.

You noticed as you stared at Peter, that his eyes seemed to widen as he cast his gaze to the ground briefly. Was he hoping for the same thing you had wished for? No? Maybe? But, it didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t meant to be yours. You gulped, gaining the courage to speak. You didn’t want things to be awkward. Peter was still your friend. And that was enough.

“Hi, Peter.” You spoke up softly, as May and your mother turned to look at each other confused.

“You know each other?” May asked and Peter nodded, turning to his aunt.

“We met through video games.” He finally spoke up as your mother huffed, crossing her arms.

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes playfully, “She never gets off that Switch thing.”

May gave you and her nephew a smile, “Well, that’s lovely. You two go play some video games then. Your mother and I are going to catch up.”

You gave her a nod before following Peter awkwardly to his room. Shutting the door, Peter shifted his gaze around his room as you stuffed your hands in your hoodie pockets, looking at the floor. The tension between you could have been cut with a knife. The air felt warm and suffocating as you fidgeted in your spot. 

“Uh… I…” Peter began, grabbing your attention and glancing up at you. “Uh… So, how are you?”

You glanced around the room, spotting the multiple Star Wars posters and merchandise, “Good.” You said shortly, “Uh, how are you?” 

Peter nodded, giving you a sheepish smile, “Good, uh, good. Uh… This is cool… My aunt knows your mom.” He stated and you nodded, finally looking back at him.

“Yeah, it’s… It’s cool.” You agreed, smiling shyly as Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, so I’m just going to say this because I don’t know how to say this in the first place and this is already awkward but… We’re soulmates.” He chuckled awkwardly, making you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“What?” You asked as Peter nodded.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to freak out because my aunt May would make a big deal about it and probably post about it on her Twitter but we’re soulmates.” He laughed out breathily, “I can’t believe it. I mean, I was hoping you’d be my soulmate.” He looked up at you, “I mean, this is awesome. I have you as my soulmate and see colors.” He ranted, making you more and more confused.

“Uh… Peter… We’re not soulmates.” You interrupted him, making him frown as he grew confused too.

“What?”

“We’re not soulmates.”

Peter shook his head, cracking a nervous smile, “No, we are.” He tried to insist.

You shook your own head, “Last time I checked… I still see grayscale.” You sighed and Peter pursed his lips.

“So… You mean… Wait, that doesn’t really make any sense. I can see colors and you can’t? What does that even mean?” He asked as he began to pace his room.

You followed him with your eyes, growing more and more disappointed, “I’m your soulmate… But you’re not mine.” You muttered out, shoulders slumping as you dropped your eyes to the ground.

Peter shook his head rapidly, pausing his pacing to turn to you, walking over and pulling you into a hug. You squeezed your eyes shut, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you dug your face in his shoulder. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you pushed them down. You held onto Peter as if you made one false move you would float away. Like an anchor, he held you down. 

“You’re my soulmate. I love you, Y/N.” Peter confessed, shocking you as you felt his tears fall onto your hoodie. “I know I’m not your soulmate, but I just wanted to get this off my chest.” He continued, sniffling as he held you closer.

You let out a sigh, fingers clutching his shirt in a deathgrip, “I love you too, Peter. Ever since I killed you in PvP Minecraft,” You joked lightly, earning a small laugh from him.

“I let you win.” He answered back, “I’d let you win a million times more.”

You laughed, pulling back slightly to look at Peter, his dark gray eyes peered back into yours. You wished you could know what color his eyes were and the shade of his har, but deep down, you didn’t really care. Peter was all you wanted. “We’ll figure something out.” You repeated his words, giving him a smile. “We both aced out Science tests, we’ll do some research.”

“Yeah, maybe this is a crazy once-in-a-lifetime mystical phenomenon.”

You nodded, “That, or the world is messing with us.” You countered as Peter raised his hand to flick your forehead fondly.

“Wanna play some Minecraft? I’ll let you be player one.” He offered as you nodded.

“As long as you’ll be my player two.”

[braveclementine]

Titan

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

Tony was hidden with the others in the ruins of Titan. The purple grape came through a portal of black, blue, and a little white, looking around, and sighing heavily.

"Oh yeah." Stephen said. He was sitting in the rubble, looking almost sexy with his sitting pose. "You're much more of a Thanos."

"I take it the Maw is dead." Thanos asked and Stephen nodded his head. "This day extracts a heavy toll." He walked towards where the wizard was sitting, "Still, he accomplished his mission."

"You may regret that." Stephen replied in a gravely voice, "He brought you face to face with the Master of the Mystic Arts."

"And where do you think he brought you?" The purple grape grew closer and closer to the wizard.

"Let me guess." Strange said, almost sarcastically. "Your home?"

Thanos paused where he was standing propping one leg up on the rock, almost leaning on it, "It was. And it was beautiful."

The world changed around them, almost giving Tony motion sickness. He could even see people walking down where the fountain square would have been. The destroyed machines in the background were flying now in the sky, and the others were large buildings for conventions and such.

"Titan was like most planets. Too many mouths, and not enough to go around. And when we faced extinction, I offered a solution."

"Genocide." Strange finished for him, looking skeptical.

"But at random, dispassionate, fair to rich and poor alike. They called me a madman. And what I predicted came to pass." The illusion dropped, returning to its normal, ruined state.

"Congratulations." Strange's voice definitely dripped with sarcasm this time. "You're a prophet."

"I'm a survivor."

It took all of Tony's strength not to sing, 'I'm a survivor, I'm not gonna give up.'

"Who wants to murder trillions." Strange answered harshly.

"With all six stones, I could simply snap my fingers, and they would all cease to exist. I call that. . . Mercy." Thanos said, demonstrating the snapping of fingers with his ungloved hand.

Stephen stood up then, walking down the steps, "And then what?"

"I finally rest. . . And watch the sun rise on a grateful universe. The hardest choices require the strongest wills."

"I think you'll find-" Stephen clasped his wrists together, "our will-" the orange shields started to appear, "equal to yours."

"Our?" Thanos asked as Tony flew down with the hunk of metal in front of him. He was scanning through it to see his target below him.

"Piece of cake Quil." Tony retorted as it smashed to the ground, squashing the man like a bug.

"Yeah, if your goal was to piss him off." Quil responded, flying in from the other side.

Purple power erupted from underneath the metal and then red glowed as the metal all turned into bats. Tony tried to shoot them, but they swarmed him, flying him backwards, overwhelming him.

Peter webbed him in the eye and Drax leapt down, slashing Thanos across the back of his leg. Strange summoned a blade, but Thanos stopped it, ripping the webbing away from his eye. Advancing on Strange, attempting to kick him as the wizard produced a shield. It blocked the kick, but the force still sent the wizard flying backwards.

Quil and Strange worked together, Quil blasting him with his gun, Stephen throwing magic at the purple eggplant.

Ew. Tony was going to have to stop sending eggplant emojis to Y/N after this.

Quil shot Thanos from behind, causing Thanos to turn. He used Stephen's portals to jump from each of them, flipping behind Thanos, placing a bomb on his back. He turned to face Thanos, disengaging the face plate. "Boom!" He shouted, giving him the middle finger, before falling backwards into one of the wizards' full portals. The bomb went off, electricity crawling over the grapes' body.

Stephen's cloak wrapped around the gloved gauntlet, before the wizard started opening portals and the spider kid started jumping out of them.

"Magic!"

"More magic!"

"Magic with a kick!" he kicked Thanos in the face.

"Magic with a-" Peter was cut off as Thanos grabbed him around the throat, slamming him into the ground. He threw Peter at Strange and the wizard was knocked to the ground, the spider slammed against the metal box.

He ripped the cloak off his hand and Tony took that as his cue, swinging back around, dropping explosions and sending bullets at the standing Titan.

Tony groaned as the Titan sucked the flames up, before sending them at him. Tony cried out, caught up in the flames, getting blasted back into one of the now destroyed and ruined buildings.

Tony made it out to see a blue thing go flying and crashing, before the wizard wrapped glowing red ropes around the gauntlet, pulling. Drax knocked the Titan to his knees. Tony landed, the ropes releasing and he started to pull with all of his strength as Peter started to wrap rope around him.

Stephen opened a portal above his head so that Mantis could drop down and put the Titan to sleep.

They were all grunting, Strange digging his heels in as he used the red ropes on the other hand now. Peter digging the new legs Tony had designed into the concrete. Mantis pressed harder against his temples and Drax kept him down with his arms around his legs. Tony continued to pull at the gauntlet, feeling it give, inch by inch.

"Is he under? Don't let up." Tony commanded.

"Be quick. He is very strong!" Mantis said, her feelers glowing white and she squeezed her eyes closed.

"Parker? Help! Get over here." Tony called out. Peter hurried to his side, "She can't hold him much longer. Let's go. We gotta open his fingers to get it off!"

Quil suddenly landed, almost gloating as he sauntered over, "I thought you'd be harder to catch. For the record, this was my plan. Not so strong now, huh? Where's Gamora?"

"My. . . Gamora. . .?" Thanos groaned.

"Oh, bull–shit. Where is she?" Quil growled. Tony already knew the answer, because Quil had screamed in pain earlier. Tony already knew the answer, because the soul stone was on the glove.

"He is in anguish." Mantis finalized Tony's thoughts. He pulled harder at the glove. Once Quil realized, punches were going to be thrown and he needed the glove off before that happened.

"Good." Quil replied coldly, not realizing what that meant.

Mantis was crying now as she continued, "He. . . he. . . he mourns!"

"What does this monster have to mourn?!" Drax asked angrily.

"Gamora." The blue woman person robot thing whispered.

"What?" Quil asked her.

"He took her to Vormir. He came back with the Soul Stone. . . but she didn't."

"Okay, Quill, you gotta cool it right now, understand?" Tony panicked, warning him. He watched Quil turn to Thanos and pulled harder, "Don't, don't, don't engage, we've almost got this off!"

"Tell me she's lying." Quil ordered. "ASSHOLE! Tell me you didn't do it!"

"I. . . had. . . to. . ." Thanos mumbled.

Quil was starting to tear up, realizing what his past pain meant. "No, you didn't. . . No, you didn't" Quil hit Thanos across the face with his gun. "NO YOU DIDN'T!" He hit again, throwing Mantis' hands off of Thanos, starting to wake him up.

"Stop!" Tony grabbed Quil, trying to get him away from Thanos.

Thanos fought them with an equal strength and Tony saw that Strange actually looked surprised as he was yanked and tossed over Thanos' head. Thanos stopped the blue girl, Quil, and Drax from charging with the power stone.

Tony lunged, bringing his arms down, fighting against Thanos now. The Titan head butted him and Tony went flying backwards, tumbling over backwards.

Tony watched as Thanos pulled power from the moon above them. Tony lunged into the air as it started to come down on Titan. Tony flew up, placing his back against it, trying to boost upwards, but instead, was crushed underneath it, between the moon and the planet.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

Stephen stepped onto a rock as things started to explode on the planet. The young boy was turning out to be useful, saving the others as they were unconscious in the air.

Stephen wasted no time, pulling up his shields and then slamming them into the ground. Thanos managed to dodge them just barely, trying to slam him with a burst of power from the power stone. Stephen blocked it with a mirror dimension, sending it at him.

He managed to suck the mirror dimension into one of the other stones, before sending it at Strange. He created a shield, the power turning into gentle blue butterflies.

Stephen lifted into the air, using his powers to create multiples of him, all of them identical and flowing outwards. In sync, all two hundred of them lashed out at him with their ropes, capturing his entire body.

Thanos used the power stone, dispersing his copies back into his body. Stephen was jolted in the air a little. Suddenly, Stephen found himself flying towards the Titan, into his hand around his neck.

"You are full of tricks wizard." Thanos said, before ripping the eye of agamotto off of his chest. "But you never once used your greatest weapon." He crushed it in his hand revealing. . .nothing. "A fake." Thanos almost smiled. Stephen struggled to get out of his grasp.

He tossed Stephen to the ground and he rolled over until he was on his stomach.

He heard Iron feet hit the ground and heard Tony say rather angrily, "If you throw another moon at me, then I'm gonna lose it."

Stephen almost chuckled.

"Stark." Thanos hissed.

"You know me?" Tony asked.

"I do. You're not the only one cursed with knowledge."

"My only curse is you." Tony responded.

Stephen rolled over in time to see Stark send missiles at him.

"Come on." Thanos growled, lifting his gauntlet to block them.

Tony flew forwards, bashing him in the chest with his feet, doing a back tuck in midair, landing then. His blasters slammed Thanos back into the rock behind him. Thanos reached forward, ripping the head off, going to punch him and did so, just as Tony blocked it with another helmet.

Nanotech. Stark really had outdone himself.

Thanos ripped the lock that Tony had placed on his hand, blasting him with purple aura from the power stone. Tony blocked it with one of his shields. Then Tony flew out from behind the shield, slamming his hand down, locking it with a new prothesis of his foot, his arm turning into more of a hammer shape, slamming Thanos across the face.

"All that for a drop of blood." Thanos grinned.

He knocked Stark to his feet, punching him over and over. Stephen wished he could get up, even though he had seen what would happen, knew Stark would survive. He still wanted to get up.

He had to admit, Stark gave it his all. Even as bits of his suit were destroyed, he sent it to other parts, trying to use his blasters. Switching from his legs, to create a sharp weapon. A weapon which Thanos broke off, and then stabbed through his stomach.

Stephen knew at that moment on Earth, Y/N would scream in pain and know that Tony was in danger. But she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"You have my respect Stark. When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive. I hope they remember you." Thanos stepped back from him.

"Stop." Stephen cried out and Thanos turned, not lowering the gauntlet which he was going to destroy Tony with. "Spare his life and I will give you the stone."

"No tricks." Thanos growled.

Stephen shook his head, heart beating in his chest. Betraying everything he knew. At least. . . at least when it all ended, neither he nor Sam would have to spend that five years without each other. They would both be gone, and then both come back. And they would help each other through that missing five years.

"Don't." Tony choked out as Thanos turned the gauntlet of stones towards Stephen.

But Stephen lifted his hand, revealing the green Time stone. Thanos held his hand out for it and Stephen felt like he was near tears. Yes, he and Sam would survive. But Natasha wouldn't. Stark wouldn't in the end. Even though he barely knew the two, he knew Y/N at the very least. And they had kids. . .

Stephen let the stone go, and it floated towards Thanos. Tony grunted, trying to breathe through the pain.

"One to go." Thanos grunted.

A bullet suddenly bounced off his gauntlet as Quil came flying out of nowhere, shooting at him. Thanos didn't even looked phased, stepping backwards into the same portal as he had come. Quil fell forwards into the wreckage.

Quil got to his feet, dropping his face plate, "WHERE IS HE?"

Tony closed up his wound with sort of icing mechanism.

And then Quil asked, "Did we just lose?"

Stephen heard Tony asked quietly, "Why would you do that?"

Stephen simply said, "We're in the endgame now."

And they would lose.

But they would win. . . with loss.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

Tony was helped to his feet by Peter. Quil had an arm around Mantis' body while Drax and the blue girl came down as well. He noticed that the wizard stayed where he was, beaten, bruised, bloody, defeated.

He remembered on the ship that the wizard had said he wouldn't trade the stone for any lives. But he had traded it for his.

"Somethings happening." Mantis said shakily and Tony watched with horror as she suddenly started to turn into what looked like dust or ash. Maybe even small, curled dead brown leaves. Quil stared in surprise.

They looked over and saw Drax looking down at his arm. And all he did was look back up and ask, "Quil?" Before he was completely gone.

"Steady Quil." Tony said, feeling panicked himself. Was Y/N witnessing this? Or worse- was this happening to Y/N?

"Oh man." Quil whispered, before turning into dust.

"Tony."

Tony turned around to face Stephen. He had his arm propped on his knee, holding the photo of Sam that Tony had given him. Yet, he still looked up at Tony while he spoke, "There was no other way." And he held his gaze until he too turned into dust.

"Mr. Stark?" A pained voice said.

Tony slowly turned to face the kid, heart ramming painfully in his chest. Surely he wasn't going to lose every single one of them, was he?

"I don't feel so good." Peter cried out.

"You're alright." Tony said, almost harshly, more trying to convince himself.

"I don't know what's happening." Peter said, looking down at his hands, stumbling forwards. He tripped, falling into Tony and Tony caught him in his arms. The boy clutched him hard. "I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go. Sir, please. Please, I don't wanna go."

Tony slowly lowered the boy until he could lay him flat on his back. Tony tried to remind himself that even if Peter had stayed on Earth, it would still be happening to him. "Sir." Peter whispered, looking at him, before his eyes adverted to the sky, and he was gone too.

Tony slid his hand into the ash, finding nothing, before wiping his hands. He sat up, curling into himself a little.

"He did it." The blue girl whispered behind him. She sat down, not quite next to him, but close enough.

Tony felt a strange emptiness in him. They had lost. Completely. Yet, Strange had said it was the only way. . . there had to be more.

His hands were covered in blood- his blood. His wound was closed up, his suit was destroyed. And he was left in space, on a planet that he didn't even know had existed, with a girl that looked like she was a cyborg with blue skin.

"Oh God." He whispered. "Oh God." 

[imsebastiansta-n]

Hey guys, so my insta imsebastiansta.n was deleted bc I was apparently ‘impersonating’ Seb when I stated many times I was a fan page but it is what it is.

I made a new account, it’s adorablebucky if you’d like to follow me.

Unfortunately though, my acc was deleted before I could save any of my old posts so I have no idea where I left off on my Bucky story 😩

On the bright side, I can start from scratch and I’ll be more active this time round.

♡

[bountycancelled]

PETER PARKER!

nothing yet!

[xspeter]

goin back to my roots and writing something for my favorite boyfriend 🙌

also pls remember this is pre editing so ignore the spelling mistakes thank u 🙏

[peterdarlingg]

HELLO?? What is this greatness that I just read?? So so good it’s unreal!

my reverie's affinity remains to be you (soulmate!au)

peter parker x reader

summary: in a world where you see ten seconds of your soulmate's life in your dreams, you already knew that spider-man was your soulmate. but what you didn't know, was that you'd be vexed to see who was beneath the mask

word count: 11, 629 (sheesh)

warnings: enemies to lovers, peter and y/n being a huge dick to each other, mentions of violence, angst, fluff, peter being a huge dork and y/n being that different kind of girl again

a/n: this was my first soulmate au and the second longest thing i've ever written. hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

i: when you dream of me, consider it an enormity

You thought soulmates were a myth.

Your whole life, you’ve been told you can love whoever you wanted, for as long as you wanted; you get to choose who you want to be with. Because it’s your choice – your own free will.

But fate had other plans. Fate didn’t want to give that decision to you; fate said fuck you, I choose who you love.

Because now you’re endowed with the worry of who your soulmate is, dreading you won’t love them as much as you wished to adore someone. You’re worried that when you’re in love with someone, they’re not yours to begin with.

Unfortunately, you already know you’re fucked with your soulmate.

Its fate’s rule: you begin at 11. You witness at least ten seconds of their life in your dreams. You don’t see their faces, their relatives. If so, the faces were obfuscated. The only reference you were given were their surroundings – what they liked, what they watched, what room they were in.

You know your soulmate had a mop of brown curls when you dreamt of him in the mirror. His bathroom was blue, his jumper was a darker shade of blue, and he had a weird obsession with Legos.

The first few years, you’d grown fond of the memories you’re given, satisfied with the minuscule albeit consequential fragments. Barring when you dreamt of him at a funeral, and you encounter yourself even closer to your enigmatic man.

Until you dreamt of him swinging around the buildings above the busy streets of Queens the same time Spider-Man started to appear was when you realized there was no fucking way your soulmate was the infamous masked hero.

You’re fucked, you knew it. Though you knew it gave you a better chance to actually know who your soulmate is.

You tried approaching him, calling him. But he was too far away or he pretended to not hear you, straight up ignoring you. Because why would Spider-Man stop his duties for a love-deprived girl?

Every night you dreamt of him – some were the times he swung around the city, or punching people’s faces. Though most of the time you’d dream of him in his bedroom with books and lego pieces scattered around his carpeted floor. If you looked closely, or paid attention to his surroundings, you’d spot a familiar sweater on the corner of his room.

It was enough to enthrall you, to keep you patient. But still, you feel incomplete.

“Maybe he’s closer than you think,” MJ said one time, though suspiciously eyeing the boy across from her. “Maybe you’re just too dumb to notice he’s actually right in front of you.”

You rolled your eyes at her.

But you couldn’t help but think she’s right. Albeit how many boys with a mop of brown curls that you know didn’t hate you, or vice versa?

Three. Two of those were strangers, one of those was unfortunately not.

You observe your graphite stain the paper upon you as you let your wrist cypher your most recent dream – Queen’s sunset. Spider-Man was sitting on the roof, devouring a sandwich, observing the sun vanish behind the edifices. It was a sight to see – a rare one for you because you were consistently busy, so you didn’t pass on the opportunity to sketch and revel in the masterpiece that you seldom encountered.

Peter Parker, the infuriating boy he is, watches beside you with a stare so hard it makes your hand tremble at each breath he takes. And when he continues to watch you you couldn’t help but squeeze the pencil in your hand and sharply look at him.

“Stop staring,” you hiss. Your voice startles him, almost letting out a yelp pass his thin lips.

“Why?” His observing frown turns into an amused one. Placing his elbow on the table, his torso turns so he faces you. “Do I make you nervous?”

“You make me sick.”

“Really? You think I didn’t notice your hand shaking when you realized I was still watching you?”

“It was only shaking because I had to stop myself from punching you,” you snap, leaning closer. “Don’t flatter yourself. If anything, you make me mad. Not just sick. Mad.”

“Madly in love, for sure.” He lets out a teasing scoff. And god if that wink didn’t make the frustrated ache in your chest burst into warmth, you might have stabbed him in the eye.

You snicker. “Oh yeah. Me. In love with Peter Parker. What’s not to love? Your big ears? Your prepubescent voice cracks? Your hairless legs? Your cute curls?”

You mutter the last part and for your sake, Peter pretends to miss it. “Gee. Didn’t know you loved my hairless legs. Would you like to ride my hairless thigh? Make me cry?”

“I’ll give you something to cry about when I shove my foot up your ass.”

Peter gasps quietly, placing a hand over his heart. “No need to be so morbid, Bob Ross. Stop storing your anger in that big forehead of yours.”

“Maybe I could solve my morbidity when I break your nose with my large forehead.” you mock him, the scarce, sweet forced tone contrast to your usual sharper manner.

“Please. The only thing you’ll be breaking is your bruised ego.”

You flick him on his forehead, closing your notebook shut the second the class ends. Peter’s disgruntled by your action and kicks your shin to stumble you over.

His assault taints your shoes, one you recently bought after Peter had “accidentally” spilt coffee over your white sneakers. But this time you were sure he didn’t do it by accident.

“Why, you little-” behind his eyes show no ounce of regret, but rather amusement. Yours, however, possesses its usual burning anathema towards—what you always call him—the hybrid; but this time his stain adds fuel to the fire, your hands reaching out to scorch his skin.

Peter’s hand blocks you by abruptly placing his palm on your forehead, keeping you away by arm’s length as you flimsily try to reach for his collar. His laugh, like a fork on a chalkboard, stings your ears sadistically.

“Come on, Grumpy,” he teases, “you can do better than that.”

Aggravated, your nails scratch on his exposed forearm, scouring them to his skin. Peter yells in shock, declining his hand to probe his mauled organ. You wipe your hand over your skirt as if his skin was the grungiest thing you’ve ever touched (but really, it kind of surprised you how his skin was the clearest you’ve ever seen when his mind was literally a dumpster).

“You little shit,” he seethes, looking down at you. “What was that for?!”

“You stained my new shoes!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Your Majesty. Do you want me to clean your shoes with my tears?”

“I want you to choke on my shoe and die!”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Ned tuts. “Let’s go before the pizza runs out.”

Peter shoots you one last glare before he turns around. It would have been a dramatic exit if you weren’t friends with Ned (plus MJ) and you always sat with them every day for lunch.

“Hey losers,” MJ’s presence surprises you, sitting down on the empty space next to yours. “Hey, (y/n).”

“She’s a loser too, you know,” Peter points out, mouth half full. “She sits with us. So she’s a loser.”

“Yeah but she reads and doesn’t play with Legos like a twelve-year-old.” MJ timidly defends, opening her yogurt. “Get used to it. I’ll always see you as losers.”

“Thanks, MJ,” Ned smiles. Peter gives him a pointed look. “What? I already take it as a compliment. We’ve been called losers our entire lives. It’s like…a specialty.”

“You’re not a loser, Ned,” you awkwardly give him a lopsided smile, fork poking on your plate. “You’re great. You’re fun. You dated Betty Brant!” you encourage. “You also know the entire script to A New Hope. So you’re not a loser.”

“Just a dork,” Peter says. “Take that as a compliment. Also when you’re called a himbo. Everybody loves a himbo.”

You grimace, letting out a silent whine of disagreement.

“Speaking of Betty,” Ned pulls a notebook from underneath the table, slamming it aggressively against the plastic surface. “Guess what I just found out. I dreamt of my soulmate last night, and she was wearing this skirt with like this blue daisy on the corner of the hip.”

He turns the notebook, just enough for both you and Peter to see. Ned had sloppily sketched a pencil skirt in the middle of the plain paper, next to it was a glued printed picture of Betty beside Ned, wearing the same skirt.

“That’s Betty. The same skirt from when we were in Prague. Don’t you think this is it?!” Ned places his hands on Peter’s shoulder, shaking him. “Don’t you?”

“I think it’s just a coincidence,” you murmur, slightly envious and in denial that one of you might have already found your soulmate. Or in this case, already been with their soulmate. “Any girl could have that skirt.”

“Yeah but I saw Betty’s legs in my dream. I know her legs-”

“Creepy?”

“- and she wore this yesterday!” he shoves the notebook near your face. “It’s not just a coincidence, (y/n). It’s fate.”

“Alright,” you grimace, pushing the notebook away. “Talk to her. Or text her? No, no talk to her. Ask about her dream last night. Then you can actually confirm it.”

“How are you so sure that’s Betty?” MJ retorts. “Betty has the same legs every white girl has. Also, I could have sworn I saw another girl wear that skirt yesterday.”

“Because she had that scar on her thigh from when she fell on top of Jason Ionello during gym. Not all girls have a scar on their thigh right thigh.”

“I do,” you say, raising your hand. “Remember when you were playing with that stupid Lego set that was too pointy?”

“In our defense, we told you to be careful,” Peter says, looking down on his food.

Ned nods, almost too vigorous as he sits back down. A drunken smile on his face, as if he’s stuck and mesmerized in his thoughts. “I wonder what happens when I find out that Betty’s my soulmate. Do I still get to dream about her?”

“Dunno,” you answer timidly, your bottom lip jutting out the slightest. “Wonder who my soulmate is…”

“I bet yours is probably a pervert staying in his mom’s basement living on Cheetos and old Mortal Kombat video games with a weird foot fetish.” Peter snorts.

“Oddly specific. Sure you’re not describing yourself?” You raise your eyebrow, snarling at him.

“My parents are dead, (y/n),” he says, not at all phased. “I don’t have a mom.”

“And I don’t have enough nerves left for you to fit your fucking huge ears in, Parker.” You roll your eyes. “Besides, I’m in no rush looking for my soulmate. I’m going on a date later.”

MJ stops reading at this. “A date?”

“Yeah, a date?” Peter tilts his head sideways. “Are you sure you’re not just tutoring them?”

“No. It’s a date.” You correct him. “They asked me out on a date yesterday after school ended. I’m meeting them at that new Thai restaurant.”

“The one Aunt May talked to you about?” Peter asks. MJ furrows her eyebrows, pouting at the question.

“Yeah.”

“It sucks there,” he quickly says. “Don’t go to that restaurant. Or better yet, don’t go on that date at all.”

You bite your lip, glaring at him. “Why not?”

Peter’s face drains its colors, stammering on his words. “So you could spare them the bad date. I mean, come on, who would want to go on a date with you?”

“I would,” MJ leered. “I’d go on a date with her. The person who asked her out would go on a date with her.” She turns to you. “What’s their name again?”

“Denver,” you confirmed, pushing MJ’s hair out of her face before turning back to Peter. “See, even MJ wants to go out with me.”

“Would- would you go out with me?” Peter asks MJ. “I mean, do I look like someone you’d go out with?”

“If you were the last person on earth, I would.”

“Aw!” Peter smiles, but disappears the longer he rephrased the answer. “Wait-”

“Hm.”

“But…I’m the only one left…you’re not-”

“Exactly.”

“I’d go out with you, Peter,” Ned interjects. “If I were a girl, I’d go out with you.”

“Aw, thanks,” Peter smiles, blushing. “I’d go out with you, too.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the unusual interaction, you find yourself leaning closer to MJ and whisper, “this feels like I’m watching an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

She snorts. “Their life is exactly like Boyle and Peralta.”

But Peter’s words clung to your head much to your dismay. His words invariably went in your ear and out the other – a pattern you’d picked up when his words began to bug you even more and more. But the exit was barred, and it clogged up your already worry-filled mind.

It wasn’t that you aren’t used to Peter’s assertions; however, it stung you narrowly, unlike the vitriols he’d thrown that should have hurt you more.

Because you couldn’t help but think he’s right; who would want to go out with you?

Hell you’re not even sure if Spider-Man would want you. He’s got everything he needs.

Disappointment rims the back of your head, alleviation elusive to claim; its overture still going but alas, for you, its ending remains privy.

ii: his cynical intentions cease the misery to summon

Peter’s envious.

Not because of Ned (if anything, he’s proud of him), but because of you.

It’s no secret to anyone, literally anyone, that the both of you are not very fond of each other. He hates you.

He knows it's because of how reckless you are, how you strut down places presuming like you own them; how you like to gloat about your triumphs, how you have that complacent look in your face whenever Peter gets an answer wrong that you irritatingly correct seconds later.

Adding to his list, he also doesn’t like how you purposely make him feel incompetent.

What he despises the most, however, was how incandescently captivating you look while being a fiendish terror.

Peter can’t deny it, but he admits that you’re beautiful. He thinks that you’re attractive even when you have that deviant gleam in your eyes when you know you’re about to overthrow him, or when you scowl when he gets on your nerves.

It’s the way you toss your hair back that retaliates him to his feet, sowing him down to his foundation for you to amble all over him. Your beaut respites him from your cruelty but pushes him to detest you more a moment later.

Apropos, he’s never really cared about situations that concern you. But the irony fills his boat with holes of jealousy when you pierce his barque with the mention of someone else’s name roll off your svelte tongue.

Yet again, he’s doubtful why he’s envious. But he deludes himself, tells himself repeatedly that he’s jealous because you’re out having a good time when you clearly didn’t deserve it; that you’re out there, being happy and unfortunately in love, while he’s out here sulking around.

It’s the smile on your face when you said Duncan’s name that sets him off, standing tall on his feet.

Denver. He corrects himself. Eh. Why bother?

The envy doesn’t last long. Peter thinks of his soulmate, who he’s pathetically already in love with.

He may have found you beautiful, but her beauty was foremost incomparable to yours. Sure, her face was obfuscated, denoting mystery, but it’s the things she has and does that makes his heart swell achingly with longing and desperation.

Books arranged by author, desk tidied whenever she was uneasy, a portrait on top of her bed that he watched her make in ten seconds, papers pinned against a board chronologically by the events of the short story she’s writing – it all immersed him, made him love her more just by the small details.

Peter knows she’s writing a story about a boy who lost everything for the greater good; its protagonist trying to keep his bitter secret from the person he values the most to protect them as he poises his life and responsibilities. And it’s the most captivating story he’s ever read.

He’s seen her write at least five times – two of those he’s seen her type in an unrelated sentence. It seems that she’s trying to write hello, soulmate on her computer but the dream gets cut off before she could finish the word so.

(Fate’s other rule: you’re unable to send a message through your dreams.)

Guilt pangs his chest, though; he also knows that she knows he’s Spider-Man. Those 10 seconds that both of them see could be taken at any time of their days, but when Peter saw her call out Spider-Man with expectancy in her voice, it was enough to prove him right.

The thing is, everyone calls out to Spider-Man, countless people asking for pictures or for help. So he’s not sure if he’s already seen her, or has, by chance, ignored her at every attempt.

“How’d you meet Denver?” he hears MJ ask you. It makes him look up from his plate, seeing your eyes light up from excitement.

Gross.

“We go to the same art club,” you answer. “They, uh, said I’m cute and asked me out on a date.”

Peter snorts, quick to be covered by a cough. You’re oblivious to his retort, ignoring him. But MJ eyes him disdainfully like she always does, narrowing his eyes before turning back to you.

“Wait, are they that person who walks you outside our dorm every Saturday?”

His ears burn in jealousy.

“Yeah,” it’s unnoticeable, but Peter could sense the heat rise up to your cheeks. “Yes,” you correct yourself with the clear of your throat. “Yes.”

“Oh, I like them. They left a huge tip after Sasha spilt coffee over their shirt when they came to visit the café,” MJ says, sipping on her cup.

“I saw them littering the other day,” Peter butts in, avoiding your annoyed eyes. “Yeah they were like drinking a Capri-Sun and straight up threw it on the ground.”

“Capri-Sun?” you repeat. “They told me they didn’t like Capri-Sun.”

“Well they’re a liar. You obviously shouldn’t go on that date-”

“Why are you so eager to convince me not to go?” leering, you accuse him of his persuasive persona. “Are you jealous?”

Peter’s eyes widen in embarrassment and irritation. “Me? Jealous of them?”

“Not them, doofus,” you say. “You’re jealous because I’m going on a date and you haven’t been on one since Liz and you broke up.”

“Didn’t you date Cindy?” Ned interjects.

“You haven’t been on a date since Cindy,” you’re quick to correct yourself.

“So what if I haven’t been on a date in two years? At least I’m not desperate. I’m just telling you not to go so you could spare the poor person a bad date.

MJ sucks on her teeth. “Nah. Sounds a lot like you’re jealous to me.”

“Michelle, I’m not-”

“Oh, for the love of God,” you clean up your tray, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’m going to go. I don’t wanna sit here and watch Parker get jealous. It’s sickening.”

“Your face is sickening.”

Your face contorts into a somewhat expression of Peter, though dramatically exaggerated. “Your face is sickening.”

And then you walk away, with Peter’s eyes on you. This time, though, his eyes remain. As if he’s watching you walk away for the first time.

But the thing is, you walked away from his life more than he could count.

-

He searches desperately for his soulmate.

Peter swings from building to building, arms burning in adrenaline, senses heightened truculently. He yields close alert to her, though he doesn’t precisely know what she looks like even after dreaming of her for at least eight years.

It’s like she doesn’t even look at a mirror.

He’s embarrassed that he’s looking for her after you called him out for being jealous, even though his search for her doesn’t concern you and your date whatsoever.

Albeit it affects his mind and now he thinks he’s looking pathetic for looking for his soulmate while you go out on a date to distract himself.

Though he resents you for your truth, Peter ends up standing at a building across from yours behind the ledge, crouching carefully against the dusted pavement.

You’re by your window, smoking. You don’t tell anyone you smoke but Peter knows you do after catching you by your fire exit during his patrols; he doesn’t call you out for it in front of your friends, but keeps it as evidence for certain situations (cough, blackmail).

Your laptop’s placed on the metal base of the exit, and you’re bedecked up from what he assumes the date. Peter watches you bob your head slightly to the music on speaker, balancing the cigarette between your darkened lips.

If he looks closely, you’re speaking. But Peter realizes you’re reading out loud on your laptop when your eyes dart from left to right, a primitive frown on your face as you do so.

Then your phone rings, making you stand up to your feet, and it’s when Peter sees what you’re wearing.

It’s a simple dress, just above your knees. Its color is a dark shade of blue and it’s decorated by white small flowers everywhere, with the back covered only by two ties.

With your hair down and slightly curled, your ensemble deems you a divine spirit in juxtaposition to your typical vixen mien, hubris amplified in your wanton appearance.

Peter watches you walk to retrieve your bag – that walk that makes his knees buckle, radiating sly innuendos to anyone who watches you.

You answer your phone, holding it in your right ear. “Hey, Karen,” he calls his AI. “Can you help me hear her?”

“Sure thing.”

Your voice fills his ears, like it always does when he’s mask-less. Except this time it’s his choice to hear you rather than suffer in your obnoxiously snobby voice.

“Hey, D,” oh, great. You gave him a nickname. “Yeah. I’m on my way. Just, had to check a few emails, ‘s all. Where are you?”

“On my way,” Peter hears Denver on the receiving end of the line. “It’s a bit of a traffic so I’ll be 15 minutes late to pick you up.”

Always be on time on a date, Peter tells himself. Your fault that you’re stuck in traffic.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just meet you at the restaurant,” dissatisfaction laces in your voice that makes Peter almost huff in victory if he didn’t hate you and have second thoughts on letting you go on the date.

“Just don’t go,” he whispers. “Just stay there. God, fuck, just stay there.”

He doesn’t hear what Denver says next, but your phone closes and he can hear the keys jingle between your fingers while you open your door, closing it gently behind you.

Peter sees you leave the apartment building, which spurs him on to start moving and look for Denver.

He doesn’t know why he’s looking for them. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he finds them. He should be actually looking for his soulmate, who might also be looking for him.

But here Peter is, worried, jealous about your date. And will stop at nothing to do something about it.

He stands from the foundation you tackled him to, and with bleary eyes, he searches for your beguiling hand, trying to pull you away from them.

iii: pretentious hearts make exquisite art, vol 1

They never appear.

You’ve texted and called, none were reciprocated. It renounces you standing outside the restaurant alone with shivering arms, the diluted atmosphere above you rumbling quietly yet the only tears spilt are yours.

Pitying looks is only what you get while you still shelve by the curb with your head hung low. You wait for them still, your heart impatient but understanding. You don't want to prove Peter right – you don’t want him to say ‘I told you so’ the next day after coming home from a bad date.

Or rather, from being stood up.

Ten minutes pass by, and you begin to walk away.

The smell of Thai food makes you uncomfortable now – not because it smelt bad, but because you’ve been smelling it for the past hour and a half while thinking of Denver and the things you’ve done wrong.

Now the smell of Thai makes you wallow in self-pity. And it’s not even their fault.

You walk back to your apartment with your arms around yourself to at least subside the cold you feel. The hushed avenues filled with the soft clicking of the boots you wore, the cars that pass by, and the rustling of the trees.

And you cry.

It’s uncommon for someone to cry while walking down the streets of New York, but this doesn’t diminish the moroseness your heart subjugates, Peter’s veracity angers and saddens you more.

Angry because he’s right.

Sad because he’s also right.

Maybe he’s right – who would want to go on a date with you?

The reasons you list down does nothing to cicatrize the rip in your heart and, even more so, creates a bigger wound. And when you think of Peter, you swore your heart is on the verge of falling apart.

You’re full on sobbing now, and you wonder how the people you pass by aren’t even phased – not even at the snot almost falling down your nose that you keep harshly sniffing, or the heavy heaves you emit like a child, or the hiccups every five seconds.

Your mascara smudges half of your face when you wipe your eyes with the side of your thumb, applying pressure to your red eyeballs. You could hear the faint pings on your phone but ignore it, letting yourself fall in a pit of despair.

Suddenly, a soft thump lands in front of you. The familiar red shoes stop you at your feet.

Looking up, you see New York’s infamous masked hero, looking down at you with his wide, white eyes. You stop crying, jaw slacked.

“Hi,” he says, voice deep, mending into his accent although unusual. “Are you alright?”

Your soulmate’s standing in front of you. You – who’s all snotty and messy and wet from crying – and him – who’s suited up and standing tall in front of you.

You wipe your cheeks with your palm, breathing shakily, and wincing when your voice cracks as you say, “No.”

“Figured.”

You snort.

“I was, uh, watching you walk home because I heard you crying,” He says, scratching the back of his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not that loud. It’s just that my senses are kind of maxed out because I drank like three red bulls and I was testing if it would heighten it or just…kill me.”

You say nothing. You’re waiting for that spark to happen – the spark that ignites your chest in warmth that spreads all over your body. You’re waiting for it to alleviate your spirits, but nothing comes.

“W-what…” you whisper, half at yourself from disappointment that nothing happens, and at him because he just drank three red bulls for a ridiculous theory he made up.

“Just – are you okay?”

“No,” you repeat, shaking your head. “My date stood me up.”

“Oh,” his voice is monotone; nonchalant. “’d you know why?”

You snarl. “No, of course not.” You hiss. “I just got stood up. How am I supposed to know why?”

Spider-Man steps back when you snap at him, hands raising as if you’re about to punch him, but lowers when he sees the tears building again at the corner of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, opening his arms. “Need a hug?”

You’re hesitant. You’d just met your soulmate, and he’s offering you a hug. And you wonder if this ignites the spark; if your lit up match meets his candle and lights it all up.

So you hug him. But the match dies before it meets the candle and the spark doesn’t come, disappointing you even more.

So you cry into his spandex.

He’s unhesitant in hugging you back, wrapping his arms around your shivering body. His suit feels uncomfortable against your exposed skin, but it contrasts to the comfort you feel in your chest when he hugs you.

You feel his cheek rest on your head as you hug him in the middle of the sidewalk while you continue to cry, still sobbing. He gently sways you, rubbing your tense back soothingly and shushes your loud sobs.

“I should have stayed home,” you lament into his chest. “I should have stayed at home, should have written, should have listened. Listened to that bastard. That solipsistic bastard.”

You feel his muscles tense, loosing his grip on you slightly as he steps back to look down at you with his hands on the side of your shoulders. “Bastard?” he repeats, something in his tone signifies faux shock, but you’re too sad to notice.

“One of my friends’ friend,” you don’t call Peter your friend. You don’t know what to call him; seems childish to tell (your soulmate) Spider-Man that you’ve got an academic arch-enemy. “He said I shouldn’t go. I didn’t listen because I never do. Now I shouldn’t have gone.

“Now they’re going to ask me about the date tomorrow. I don’t know what to say,” you sniff, rubbing the top of your finger underneath your nose. “I don’t want him to tell me I told you so and prove him right. I can’t just lie, either. Because they’re going to find out either way.”

You don’t realize you’re walking until he places a gentle hand around your waist when you begin to walk sideways to the road, tilting you back to the sidewalk. Spider-Man listens carefully, nodding at each sentence you finish.

“You’re lucky, huh,” you say after you finish your rant, halfway home. “Got no love problems. Only got villains, no?”

Spider-Man chuckles, its sweet sound already marking your heart. “My life isn’t as glamorous as J.J Jameson makes it look like.”

You raise your brow. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, I haven’t had a good day in a while. Then I realize the bad vibes I’ve been feeling recently are actually severe psychological distress.”

You could see his mask move into a smile when you laugh loudly at his comment, slapping his arm lightly. “People of New York giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, definitely,” he answers. “Never got a break, y’know. Like a proper, relaxing break, never even got the chance to look for…”

He whispers the last part, not enough for you to hear despite being beside him.

“You can take a break,” you offer, hesitant. “I mean. I think New York can survive without Spider-Man for a day. Or for a week.”

“Are you saying that so you can, I don’t know, commit crime?”

“What? No!” You scoff, pretending his accusation offends you. “What kind of crime would I be doing anyway?”

“Being too pretty.”

You can perceive him wince and suffocate at his statement as if it had also caught him off guard. The languidness in his body dissipates, stance turns inelegant and he laughs, mortified, while you stare at him.

You wonder if he knows you’re his soulmate.

“Heh,” you save him the embarrassment when you chortle, continuing to walk. “Is my beauty illegal, Spider-Man?”

He chuckles, scratching over his covered ear. “Yes. I feel like if someone were to die from seeing beauty, you’d be the person of interest.”

“’Person of interest’ is almost too flattering,” you say, kicking a small piece of debris. “Like, if the police were to pound on my door and go, ‘A man has been murdered in your building and you are a person of interest,’ I’d be like ‘Moi? Oh do go on.’”

For the first time that night, Spider-Man doesn’t laugh shyly or chuckles breathlessly, instead, he cackles at your joke that he finds questionably funny. His hand goes to his chest, leaning back, and you can’t help but laugh with him.

“That is kind of true,” he confided.

“The only thing I’ll actually kill are spiders.”

“Ouch?” he touches his heart again. “They’re kind of my cousins.” He says, nudging your shoulder. You feel his hand brush the back of yours, but he pulls away. “Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.”

You look at him, dead on his eyes, or what could possibly be his eyes. “Killed without hesitation.”

“I- n-no…” his voice falters, making you laugh again.

Much to your dismay, you’ve reached your apartment. The smile on your face disappears, and you look at him with a pout.

You nod at your apartment door. “Want to come in?”

iii:pretentious hearts make exquisite art, vol 2

He’s never imagined himself spending his entire night with you.

Peter agreed to join you up the rooftop. But you never let him inside your apartment, telling him to meet you at the fire exit stairs. So he’d only got a short glimpse in your room when you open your curtains with your clothes changed.

Soliloquies after soliloquies, Peter disbursed his hours with you looking out the city, ice cream in hand with his mask pleated underneath his nose. He listened to you – actually listened to you rather than reprimand your words like he used to do when you started to annoy him.

You’ve never conversed in a conversation that mentions his name, merely only your life back in high school, your friends MJ and Ned (he pretends it doesn’t hurt him when you hesitated on his name), why you chose your course, and why you went to MIT.

He wants to know you more, even though he’s had years to do that. He doesn’t actually know things about you when he asks you what your favorite color is, or what flower you liked, or if you enjoyed studying.

Though he feels it’s not enough when you answer his questions with ‘green, sunflowers and lilacs, I’m about to shoot myself in the head, so not entirely’

Peter felt closer to you than he’s ever had half of his life. And he realizes – idiotically realizes – that there’s more to you than he presumes. It torques his heart to you, regarding this impalpable sentiment towards you; at the ridge of your intricate affinity, he considers he became more pseud for you.

But he wants to know more; wants to know what you think about him through his other demeanor.

“He’s, god, I don’t know what he is,” you said to him, waving your hand. “He’s…infuriating. He’s so fucking aggravating but at the same time, he’s so enticing. Like, he’s made my days agonizing whenever I see him but at the same time when he’s not there, I look for him, y’know?

And it confounds me whenever that happens. Like, I hate him, but at the same time, it’s like, seeing him kind of completes my day. I think it’s because he’s always been there every day in my life since I met him. But the thing is, I don’t feel the same for Ned and MJ. So, it’s very, very confusing for me.”

He never thought you felt the same. And it makes him feel guilty for what he’s done that night.

That night, his dream vexed him more.

Peter saw her. She’s on the table, and in those ten seconds, she puts her phone down on her white desk, stands up from her chair, and turns around to her bed where he sees something he can’t fully discern after having only a millisecond glimpse of it.

But it’s the dress that leaves him baffled – aching for her, the truth.

He makes his way towards where MJ works, hopefully neither you nor Ned nowhere to be seen yet. Everything is unusually cold for him but when he touches the doorknob to the café, it burns his palm.

The bell chime is too loud, he can hear every conversation, every word, and he could literally feel the air pushing on his skin – and it hurts.

His senses are overridden.

He’s nervous.

Peter sits down on the chair in front of MJ, where she’s quietly writing. He sees the broken black dahlia hanging on her chest that he got her when he got MJ for Secret Santa last year (the one time he genuinely smiled at him).

“MJ,” he squeaks, voice cracking. She looks up from her notebook, brows furrowed.

“You’re early,” she points out. “And you’re sweaty and you’re voice is cracking. Are you finally going through puberty?”

He huffs out. “Shut up. I’m early because I need your help.”

MJ closes her notebook, placing the pencil on top of her ear. “Is this where you go to walk (y/n) home as Spider-Man and talked to her on the rooftop?”

All the color on his face drains. He feels worse. “What?”

“Oh come on. I know you’re Spider-Man,” she whispers, leaning closer to the point her breath almost fans over his face. “Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not Spider-Man.”

She snorts, leaning back. “Peter, do we really have to do this? I ask – no, tell you you’re Spider-Man, you deny it, and we’re going to keep on talking about it until they come and I won’t have any more time to help you.”

He shakes his head, trying to focus his eyes. “Fine. We’ll talk about it someday with Ned, but right now, I just like really, really need your help”

He never thought he’d give up his persuasion that easily.

“What is it?” MJ leans in again.

“I think,” he falters in his words, thinking before he speaks (something he never does). “I think (y/n)’s my soulmate…”

MJ snorts again, eyes widening as she lets out a comical laugh of relief. “Yeah, she is.”

“I’m serious – wait, what?” he narrows his eyes. “You don’t sound sarcastic.”

“Because I’m not.” Peter pulls his notebook out of his bag, though he doesn’t open it, but carefully places a pen on top of it. “I’m serious, Peter,” she says, shrugging.

“Why?”

“Because (y/n)’s been describing her soulmate to me like every day,” she retorts. “Brown curly hair, plays with legos, notebooks full of weird formulas, small, oh, and he’s Spider-Man.”

“So you knew I was her soulmate because you knew I was Spider-Man, but you never told her?”

“Because I was only 67% sure,” she smiles cheekily, pouring coffee on a cup. “And she needs to figure it out herself. Because where’s the fun in that? The dramatic irony, and all.”

Peter nods, though the frown on his face remains. “I know she knows I’m her soulmate. But she doesn’t know I’m,” he points to himself, “her soulmate. Fuck, why didn’t she say anything last night?”

“Probably because she just got stood up, or she’s wondering why there’s no spark igniting in her chest when she met you.”

“How’re you so sure?”

“I know how her mind works.”

He nods again. “I want to talk to her. Tell her everything. That I’m her soulmate, and I’m in denial about her, and that I’m the reason why she got stood up.”

This, MJ doesn’t know. It’s clear in her reaction when she drops the coffee pot to the table with a slightly agape mouth. “What?”

He blushes. “I was – I was outside her window, and I heard their conversation and, fuck, I just couldn’t sit there and let her go on that date, y’know, so I looked for Duncan.”

“Denver,” she hisses. “Peter! You just hurt her!”

“Yeah but I made her feel better afterwards. It’s the first part of my apology!” he defends himself, taking his cup to take a sip. But MJ takes it from his grasp.

“Nuh uh. You don’t deserve our mediocre coffee,” she seethes, drinking it. “Tell me what you did to them, Peter.”

He gulps, sinking into his seat from her harsh glare. “I looked for their car through Karen, my AI. And they were stuck in traffic. And thank god for Karen because I was thinking of reasons on how to make them miss the date when she told me Denver had like a lot of tickets.”

“So?”

“So I said they're under arrest for not paying,” he sheepishly says, looking anywhere but at MJ. But he can feel her fuming, and doesn’t dodge at her attempt to grab at his ear. “Ouch!”

“Fucking idiot!”

“Stop! I have sensitive ears, please.”

“I’m not helping you,” she steps back, but not without a final flick on his ear. “You solve your problems yourself. You solve this yourself. Fuck. You were like the smartest dude in Midtown. Now your dumb or nothing.”

“Hey,” he’s offended, but doesn’t take her words too deeply. “Please, MJ?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

The bell chiming stops him before he can say another please out of desperation. You slip in past the glass door, Ned behind you with a smile on his face as you laugh. His heart flutters in his chest, torso turning to face you.

What shocks him more is that your smile never leaves even after your eyes meet his for a brief moment before sitting down beside him. “Hey guys,” you greet, placing your bag down the ground.

Ned sits on the other side. “I’ve got great news,” he denotes. “Betty is my soulmate.”

A series of genuine surprise emits from yours and Peter’s lips, while MJ’s was lightheartedly sarcastic, claiming she knew it all along. Peter smiles at his best friend’s triumph, leaning closer and listens to him speak.

“I talked to Betty like you said,” he looks at you, motions his hand towards your figure. “And everything got confirmed when she pointed out that she’d dreamt of Revenge of the Sith like 150 times and when she saw my hat 20 times.”

“150,” Peter hears you whisper. “That’s an unusual amount of times you’ve seen Star Wars.”

“It’s not even close,” he winks. “But anyway. Yeah. Betty and I are soulmates, and we’re having sex tomorrow.”

“Okay! TMI, Ned. TMI,” Peter chuckles nervously.

“I met my soulmate last night, too,” You say, your chin on your palm as you pick up Peter’s pen and open his notebook, writing a small smiley face on the corner of the random page you opened. “He just…doesn’t know it yet.”

“Oh?” MJ’s ears perk up, glancing at Peter quickly before looking at you. “How so?”

Your back straightens, giving MJ a warning look as if to say not here.

Yes here. Peter bemoans on the inside.

“It’s complicated,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “I’ll tell you when we meet again.”

“Wait,” Ned pauses. “Does that mean Denver’s your soulmate?”

Your smile falls, looking down at Peter’s pen in your hand. “No,”

“Aw really?” he gives you a sympathetic pout. MJ gives you a tight lipped smile, pouring another coffee into a cup. “How come?”

Peter’s heart breaks a bit when you spare him a glance, seeing the embarrassment glint in your eyes. He softens, realizing that you’re probably thinking that he’s going to embarrass you.

“They stood me up,” you finally say when you look away from him. At this, Peter feels something burn his fingers. He winces, cradling his hand to his chest as MJ shoots him a glare, followed by an insincere apology as she wipes the hot coffee off the counter.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says.

You look at him, and so does Ned and MJ with stupefaction. He gives you a soft smile albeit it’s loaded with contrite and empathy. For a moment, you determine on giving him a rude comment. But you don’t.

“It’s alright,” you shrug. “Had a good night after, anyway.”

He knows it’s because of him, and it makes Peter smile.

“They don’t deserve you,” Ned says, holding your hand. “You’re really pretty and honestly, they’re kind of mid.”

MJ nods. “Hell, you fix yourself without a mirror and you’re already confident that you look fine. They totally don’t deserve you.”

And then they look at Peter, as if they’re waiting for his words of encouragement. But instead, he sneezes, hard – something he does when he’s really really nervous.

He sneezes and hits his nose on the counter.

“Oh shit!” you gasp, placing an arm around his shoulders, and a hand over his that covers his bleeding nose. “Peter, what the fuck?”

“Sorry!” his voice is muffled by his hand, blood seeping between his fingers. “Fuck. Fuck I sneezed too hard and hit my head on the counter. Fuck.”

MJ’s biting back a laugh, but you don’t – you laugh while holding his hand, feeling the blood stain your palm. She offers you a cold water bottle, and Ned pulls out a packet of tissues from his pocket.

You remove the hand around Peter’s shoulder, making him frown. But he’s quick to comply when you gently remove his hand from his nose and wipe the blood off his skin with the tissue, accidentally smudging your thumb over your drawing on his notebook

He takes the cold bottle from you, placing it on the bridge of his nose.

For a concise beat, he reckons it's only you and him in the café. And you’re preening to his wound, laughing at his vacuity, caressing his nose with such fervency it hurts.

And he looks into your eyes, the first time you peek at the real him without any indignation or wrath that dilates your pupils. The curtains are now open, the window to your soul is seen and he reads it like an open book, leafing through its pages with cautiousness.

And in the end, its ethics are analogous to his – you’re both yearning for the verity. The divulgence of each other.

iv: the truth’s interlude, my pain continues to exude

He’s twitchy.

Peter looks at you, the throbbing ache on his nose now too distant to exist. But you’re not looking at him – you’re laughing at something Ned had said, a radiant smile on your face. (He wishes he's the reason why you smiled like that)

After MJ’s shift, just five minutes after Peter broke his nose, all of you left as soon as she ditched her teal apron, walking home to your place.

It’s the first time he’s seen your apartment adequately. Usually, you all hung out at MJ’s work, or at Ned’s because you all adored his lola's company. But now you’d invited them, and he's hankering to take a look at your bedroom that he's glimpsed almost every day of his life.

His finger twitches and he wonders if you know. Peter wonders, as you sit there, laughing at your young mistakes and mature choices, if you know.

You’re too relaxed – you don’t know.

He’s thinking of excuses that ends himself up in your bedroom (He heard it. That’s not what he meant). Peter just wants to see your room longer than ten seconds, to carouse in the place he’s been longing to be in for a long time.

He wants to feel the pinned compositions beneath his fingertips, glorify your painting, esteem your sterile desk; uncover the pack of cigarettes taped behind your mirror, sit by your window and feel what it’s like to be with you.

But he’s still sitting on your couch, trying to laugh with you. He feels pompous; pretentious – like a liar. But he already is. He’s lying to you, to himself. But who’s he fooling? All he’s done is lie to you about what he felt, about who he is. Why is he so guilty now when he should have been back then?

“He’s like holding my hand and pulling me to his room and he says ‘let’s go to my headquarters,’ and I was like ‘what do you mean headquarters’ and he’s like, ‘oh you know, my blowjob room’”

Peter doesn’t know what’s funny about it, but when Ned laughs and so did MJ, it must have been the jealous that blocks the laughter from leaving him.

“What kind of person calls a blowjob room ‘headquarters’?”

“What kind of normal person has a blowjob room?” MJ grimaces.

Ned nods. “Fair point.”

His eyes meet MJ’s in a call of help. He doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he might be concussed, but he could stand straight and feel things enough for him to feel guilty.

She lets out a long sigh, quickly pulling her phone out, the screen illuminating her face as she types in word after word of execution.

Then she slips it back in, looking at you with feign helplessness. “(y/n),” she pouts. “Come with me to the bathroom? I need to pee.”

You nod, standing up and taking her hand towards where your bathroom is.

Ned’s phone pings, and he looks at Peter before taking a pillow and slamming it on his bandaged nose.

The discomfort outstretches his whole face now, feeling the ache on his eyes and his lips pulsate from the impact, and Peter claims he could feel the blood drip again when he puts his hand over his nose and look at Ned with wide eyes.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“MJ said to hit you in the nose!” he reasons, putting the pillow down. But Peter picks up the pillow next to him, slamming it on Ned’s face. “Hey!” he shouts. “You asked for help, we gave you help.”

“I don’t think hurting me is helping, Ned!” Peter whines, folding, bending down to place his nose at the space between his knees to alleviate his fatigue. “Fuck…dude…” he hisses. “How is this going to get me alone with her?”

“When she sees that your nose is bleeding again, she’ll take you to her room and fix you up. Then MJ and I will make some lame excuse and leave so we’ll leave you two alone.” He explains. Peter nods in discomfort, pinching his nose. “Honestly dude, I don’t know how to help you if you don’t tell her today.”

“I’ll tell her today.” He says. “Fuck. Hit me again.”

Ned complies.

“Fuck!”

The door from the hallway opens and slams shut, a rush of panicked feet making its way forwards to where Peter sits with his nose hidden in his hands. You look at him with wide eyes, rushing to him with open hands.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, lightly cradling his face in your palms. You’re touching his face – he can discern your skin looming over his, almost abutting. But you don’t and it causes him to wish your tinge wasn’t reluctant. “What happened?”

“I saw a spider on Peter’s face,” Ned says, fast, before tucking the pillow behind him. “I didn’t want to touch it.”

“So you hit his face with a pillow?” scrunched nose, a pout on your lips, and a hint of concern in your eyes. Peter thinks you look cute. “You do know it’s only been an hour since he broke it, right? Jesus, looks swollen.”

Peter lets you grab his hand, putting it down to his lap as your fingers caress the crooked shape of his nose.

“Stay here,” you whisper, turning to your bedroom in quick and short strides. He’s no longer in pain, merely in a daze as he looks between Ned and MJ.

MJ cocks her head towards your bedroom door. He stands up, stumbling his way through the hallway to stand by the doorframe.

His eyes wander around your room.

It’s ampler than he thought – a bit bigger than his room, the walls adorned by a myriad of Vinyl and Polaroids adhered to the wall beside the window to the fire escape; your bookshelf is small averse to the bulletin beside it that’s concealed by hand-written chapters of your book, and the desk he sees are…messy.

It’s not pristine like he expected. You uncluttered when you’re tense or stressed – something he noticed even before he found out you’re his soulmate – so this presumably implied that you’re relaxed because of him.

You look up from the ground, a bottle of antiseptic and cottons in your hand. “What’re you doing here?”

“You were taking too long.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’ve only been gone for ten seconds, you trilobite. Be patient or I’ll slam something harder on your nose.”

There she is.

“I’m in so much pain, (y/n),” he whispers. “Don’t add up to it.”

Through hooded eyes, he can see you squeeze the bag of cotton in your hand and clench your jaw. He’s hit a little nerve, and it makes him smile as you push yourself up the ground and pull him to your bed.

“Sit,” you demand. “Before I knock your head against the wall.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He slurs, smiling lightly.

“Hey guys?” MJ calls from the living room. “We gotta go. My car got towed and Ned wants to watch beastiality!”

“Ratatouille is not beastiality, Michelle-”

Peter grimaces at this. “Ratatouille is beastiality?”

You shake your head, dabbing the cotton on his nose. “I think The Bee Movie is- wait, MJ, you don’t have a car!”

The door slams shut and the ripples of the clangour buzz in Peter’s ears, taking him a moment to acknowledge that it’s just now the two of you. You notice this, too, stability stiffened from your capricious emotions.

Your hand appears spasmodic every time you’re tactile with him; he can sense why – you’re nervous. You’re always nervous around him and who is he to repudiate that he doesn’t deem the same?

Had your eyes always looked this captivating?

The curtains are sealed; earlier, he read you, like a child leafing through a storybook heretofore. But the book’s latched and he can’t thumb through the pages, afraid of tearing your susceptible tale. So he’s left to figure you out, right now, through your opaque, locked eyes.

Peter wants to know why you’re suddenly being nice, even before he’d slammed his nose against the counter, but it’s obvious:

You met him your soulmate last night, even though you were incompetent to tell him who he was to you. And you had someone to listen to you, and you felt good being listened to – he can see it. Which was why you’re being quite nice to him.

But still, he tests the suspicions in the back of his head, pushing it forward to his lips as he says:

“Why are you being nice to me?”

You stop working on his nose, your tongue hiding itself back in from losing your concentration as you scoot back, away from him. Sheepishly, you shrug, looking down at your dingers. “Dunno.” You say. “Just…”

“’s it because you met your soulmate last night?”

You nod your head, looking up. “It’s not just that.” You lean closer. “I…I realized something.”

You’re my soulmate he wants you to say. I lo-

“Yeah?”

Peter smiles as you nod again. “I realized you aren’t as horrible as I thought you were,” you begin, picking at your nails. “That- I based you off my judgements rather than allow myself to get to know you. And I realized last night that perhaps I’d judged you too harshly that I haven’t even realized that it’s doing something to me.”

I hate him, but at the same time, it’s like, seeing him kind of completes my day

He repeats your words at the back of his head like a mantra, your voice filling his every time he tries to think from how many times he’d repeated it.

His movements are slow but when his finger touches the soft skin of your chin, heat radiates off his body. Peter tilts your head upward, eyes meeting yours.

The curtains are open now.

And just when he’s about to read you, his senses knock him back to alertness, mouth ejecting a voice of disdain, irritated from interruption. His peripherals make out the disappointment in your face when he drops his hand to his lap.

Peter stands up from the bed, squeezing his eyes shut from the sudden fatigue.

“I’m sorry,” he says, guilty. “I have to go.”

And what happens? When he leaves you with terse words while you were anticipating something imminent that’s not really there; what happens when Peter refracts at the moment you’re about to obtain what you’ve always wanted due to his insolence?

v: unravel the vindication, remedy is revelation

You don’t know how long time passes – but your eyes never left the screen of your laptop an hour after you woke up. And you’re typing, not baring a single glance down your keyboard as you press letter by letter, forming sentences and metaphors from your ingenuity.

You’re halfway done from what you’re writing, on the verge of writing its denouement.

“Look at me. Open your eyes.” I beg her. “I’m right here in front of you. Notice me. Wake up and notice me.”

It’s functioning, your mind; it’s envisioning scenarios you often wished you underwent. It’s your form of coping when you’re having a hard time – you tatter ruminations, delectable dramas from the remnants of each character’s past, and you fill your book with raucous sections of angst and bond.

And then…your mind stops.

Suddenly, you find it hard to form words in your head and this irritate the living shit out of you. Writer’s block – a pain the fucking ass. They’re like a difficult bottle cap to remove and you’re stuck finding ways on how to open the bottle.

You slam your forehead repeatedly on your desk, hopefully triggering at least some simple words to add to your sentence. Skull on the verge of cracking, your phone pings.

You remember your dream.

In those ten seconds, you see him writing down formulae on his notebook, a scrawny smiley face on the corner of the paper with slightly smudged blood on it. You smile when you dream of him again.

It’s been two days since you met him, but you don’t forget the reason you met him in the first place. So earlier this morning, your eyes aimlessly scroll through the list of contacts on your phone until your eyes land on them.

You text Denver.

‘I don’t know what I did wrong, or what happened, but I would really appreciate an explanation.’ It’s followed by or not, your loss, but your thumb presses the delete button repeatedly until that’s all that’s left on the box before you hit send.

You don’t expect them to reply, but you do it nonetheless.

And then you think of Peter.

Yesterday bewilders you, and the day before, and the days before; every day you spent with Peter confuses you and yesterday was no different – because he left you perplexed, again and again, and again.

It’s beginning to irritate you because you know he has something to say. It’s in the look on his face – the same look he has when you let him too close to you. But he’s being a desirous coward and bails every single time, making you more inquisitive, aggravated, impatient.

Peter’s always underestimating you, saying something to Ned about how you can’t possibly handle what he’s about to tell you.

Your phone pings, disturbing you from the hypothetical murder of Peter Parker

Picking it up, your blurry eyes and dizzy state read the message.

It’s MJ. ‘Peter’s coming over. STAY CALM’

As if on cue, your doorbell rings. You push your chair back and make your way to the door, seeing Peter on the other side with a pint of ice cream inside a plastic bag from Delmar’s.

He’s hear, again, and you don’t know why. You’re confused. Is he here to continue your unfinished conversation, or he’s here to lead you on more before he bails once more?

You opt on snarling at him, but you want to play his game – act dumb and innocent and oblivious like he always assumes you are.

“Hey,” you smile. “How’s your nose?”

Peter lightly touches the purple and yellow bruise on the bridge of his crooked nose. “It’s alright. ‘s healing already.”

“That’s good,” you step aside, inviting him in. “What’re you doing in here?”

“We need to talk,” he places the bag on your dining table, giving you a nervous look. “You need to sit down. I need to sit down – we need to sit down for this.”

He’s quick and eager. Peter’s here to finish what he started.

He doesn’t allow you to utter a single word, tugging on your delicate wrist to lead you to your bedroom, sitting you down on the mattress at the same spot he left you hanging.

Expecting he sits down beside you, he doesn’t. Instead, he kneels between your parted legs, head leveled with yours. Peter looks down on your feet, on the fabric over your knees, on your fiddling fingers in front of him – anywhere but your eyes.

“You alright?” you softly say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Peter nods. “Yes. No. Maybe. I-I d-don’t know…”

“What’s up?”

He lets out a quavering breath, eyes buffing. And the sunlight caroms on his glassy orbs, splitting its diaphanous mosaic. Your chest flutters with trepidation, hands opposing to stay put and stop you from running your hand over his hair and pull.

“I haven’t been…honest with you,” he ultimately looks at you, directly into your eyes, your dry sights deviating to his breaking ones. “And, I want you to know that I’m sorry for what I’m about to tell you.”

The sky outside rumbles, a mild thunder before you hear delicate pattering against the metal of the fire escape, muffled by your window. This doesn’t preoccupy you from looking away from his eyes.

Had his eyes always looked this captivating?

“I’m…” he sighs, closing his eyes, and a lone tear is threatening to spill from his eyelashes. And you wait patiently, for the first time. “I’m…you’re so…I’m the reason why Denver stood you up on your date.”

Your face falls, leaning away from him. “Oh.”

You spent hours wondering what you did wrong and what was wrong with you before you met Spider-Man. And you didn’t realize how quickly you got over the temporary heartbreak. And Peter’s truth doesn’t break your heart again, but rather fill it with disappointment instead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you tell him. “Why’re you sorry and why did you do it?”

“Because,” he shut his eyes with a sigh. “I couldn’t just let you go on that date knowing…knowing you’d get hurt one day. And I was…yes I was jealous so I had to do something and I’m sorry because I made you cry and I unintentionally hurt you.”

“Well…you did know I’d get hurt when they stood me up so technically it wasn’t unintentional,” you correct him. “But that’s not the point. And I wouldn’t forgive you if it didn’t hurt me anymore. I’m just upset about it, and maybe mad because you made me miss a date. But guess what? If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have met my soulmate that night.” You smile timidly at him. “Just tell me what you did to Denver.”

Peter sighs again. “I made them spend a night in jail.”

Your eyes widen, letting out a laugh of disbelief. “Peter!”

He laughs lightly with you. “What! I asked Karen for some help and she said-”

“Who’s Karen?”

“-my AI. She said Denver didn’t pay any of the parking tickets so I arrested him!” Peter defends himself. His answer leaves you confused – who’s Karen and why does he have an AI? “Honestly, it’s a good thing I saw you crying home or else-”

Your smile disappears. “What?”

He smiles at you. “What?”

“You said you saw me crying home,” you repeat his words. “Peter, were you following me?” You stand up, stepping away from him. “And you arrested Denver? Peter, you’re not a cop!”

All the color drains from his face, standing up from the ground, wiping his knees though they remained clean still. “I- I think you misheard me-”

“You said you had Karen to ‘help you’,” you point out. “You had Karen, your ‘AI’-”

“AI? Did I say AI. I think I said-”

“Peter.”

“Honestly, (y/n) I-”

You walk away from him, making your way towards your window. Your hands weakly push the exit upwards, lifting yourself up to the exit until you feel the heavy patters of the rain on your skin.

“What are you doing?” Peter shouts over the loud noise. “(y/n)-”

“I’m going up,” you say. “I’m going up the rooftops. And I’m staying there. Because I don’t – I don’t know what to do with you right now because you’re confusing me and I don’t want to be confused right now.”

Your weighty steps stride through the metal stairs, clanging at each stomp. You don’t care if it causes the platform below you to shake, or if it damages your ears. You needed to think about what to do, and what you need to say next to him; you needed to refresh your mind.

Peter follows behind you. “(y/n) get inside! You’re going to get sick!”

“Well, I’m already sick!” you turn sharply, shouting at him. “I’m already sick of you and your lies and your torments and you underestimating me. I’m already sick of your bullshit!”

Peter’s hair is wet, sticking to his forehead. Dismissing the tempest befalling upon the two of you, he steps out into the rooftop to follow you. “Bullshit!” he roars amidst the storm.

“Yeah! Bullshit. That’s what I said!”

He reached out to grab your wrist, wringing you around. You’d been crying, and he hadn’t detected because your tears were combined with the rain simultaneously descending your cheeks. Peter’s face softened, his pique dissolved into the nervous one he felt just before you stormed out.

“Hey,” he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Peter,” you whisper, exasperated. “Just tell me the truth. Please. Please, I’m so tired.”

He nods, hand never leaving yours but the other reaches up to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

You stop crying, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Maybe MJ was right – he was in front of you. You were just too blinded by hatred to notice.

It all made sense – the bloody smiley face on the corner of his paper, the lego pieces, the blue sweatshirt, the brown curls, the funeral, everything.

And you’re in denial.

“No,” you shake your head. “No. No, you’re not,” you push him away, digging your nails to his damp shirt and push him away, eyesight blinded by your hot tears and the bright rain. “Why you?”

Peter’s voice snagged in his throat. “I…I don’t know what you want me to say to that…”

“You made my life miserable,” you hiss. “You made my life miserable, and the dreams – your dreams – are the only things that makes my day better. And – fuck, I just unknowingly told you how I felt about you too! I-”

The revelation renders you speechless. The man who stood before you is your antagonist – and your love, your destined love. And you don’t know how to love him; it’s your fear, that you won’t be able to love your soulmate as much as you wish to.

And now it’s happened. And it scares you. Because now you’re supposed to love Peter Parker, after years of hating him.

“You said your days felt incomplete if I don’t show up,” he says softly, loud enough for you to hear amidst the storm. “Maybe it’s because we’re soulmates. And we complete each other.”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “How am I going to love you like I’m supposed to?”

Peter cups your face, palm gentle against your jawline, thumbs caressing the tears from your cheekbones. And you open your eyes.

His eyes are caring – they mean what they say. And you read his eyes, his soul, like an open book. And as you flip through his pages, there’s a part there; a part that divulges his love for you. And it frightens you. So much

“You don’t have to love me. Not right now. Not immediately,” he says. “You can learn how to love me, (y/n). And I’ll wait for you.”

The words you’ve written earlier, your character’s denouement, appear in your head. “Look at me. Open your eyes.” I beg her. “I’m right here in front of you. Notice me. Wake up and notice me.”

And you look at him. You open your eyes. And Peter’s right here in front of you. But you don’t notice him – not yet.

“I fell in love with you,” you whisper. “But not you.”

He nods, and he’s crying too. “I know.”

“But you complete me,” you tell him, nudging the tip of your nose to his. “I don’t love you yet. But you complete me.”

Love forces you to do ludicrous, heedless things. Whether it was for your good, or theirs. Sometimes you’d have to be stoic to protect something you already have, transgressing the altruistic love you desired to give. Because failing something you worked hard to have will forfeit the trajectory of it all.

It’s what you feel for him – for Peter. And he understands.

“I love you,” he whispers, lips hovering above yours but never touching.

You don’t say it back. You want to, he knows you want to. But understands when you don’t.

You kiss him instead.

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Soulmates with Peter Parker? 🥺💕

.⋆｡Arachnophobia｡⋆.

Peter Parker x plus size reader

Who knew that moving to New York could be just the kick the universe needed to fulfil your destiny?

Warnings: fluff, soulmate AU, explosions WC: 876

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

6k Celebration Bingo

Well this spider doesn’t hate you.

Those were the words that appeared along your collarbone the day you turned 18. The black lettering was just barely visible when you awoke that morning but by lunch time, all of your friends were poking fun at the strange phrase now permanently branded into your skin. You glared at them as you told them to back off and that you at least had an interesting soulmate if their first words to you were as strange as that.

But a nagging part of your mind wondered if they were right, if the person that burned with the same flame as you did was some kind of weirdo. As the months went on, you imagined countless scenarios where those six words would be uttered to you. Maybe at a frat costume party where they would be dressed like a spider. Or they were your next door neighbour and they saved you from a stray arachnid that had made a home in your kitchen. Or maybe they were just really into spiders in general. Needless to say, your obsession with your soulmate's words had slowly developed an aversion to the insects, going completely out of your way to avoid them just in case your soulmate was a weirdo like your friends had predicted.

Three years after you finally escaped the social wormhole of high school, you moved to New York City. With a scholarship under your belt and dreams of going to a college that could handle more than 300 students, you moved into a tiny dorm right at the edge of Columbia’s campus. You were excited to chase your dream but first- you needed groceries.

With headphones fitted tightly against your ears, the deafening sounds of the city blurred around you. You weren’t really sure exactly where you were going but it was early afternoon and your phone was fully charged, so what was the harm in wandering for a while. 

New York City opened up before you, the skyline glittered with thousands of windows and bright lights capturing your gaze no matter where you turned. It was all so exciting and rather distracting. You were ignorant to the commotion building behind you, until a strange heat licked at the back of your neck.

In a second, your world went completely upside down, literally. The only warning you received before the wind was knocked from your lungs was the blast of some sort of explosion and then, the world zipped by you. Someone had a firm hold on your thick waist as dots of light swirled around you. You clung to them, your head spinning as they lifted you higher and higher, until it all suddenly stopped.

Gravel crunched under your shoes as you stumbled forwards. A hand curled around your wrist, keeping you upright. You crashed into his strong chest. Your eyes slowly came into focus as the ringing in your ears faded. Sirens filled the air yet all you could think about was the insignia of a spider splayed across the red suit right in front of you.

“God I hate spiders.” The white eyes of his mask widened comically as you heard his breath stutter. His grip on your waist tightened for just a second.

“Well this spider doesn’t hate you.” The world stilled in that moment. You leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I, I mean I am Spider-MAN and you hate spiders.” Heat crawled up your cheeks while you bashfully glanced away but quickly looked at him as he laughed. Something deep in your chest came to life with his laugh, quickly spreading through your veins and making your heart flutter with a whole new emotion. 

His gloved hands slipped down to the small of your back. You could feel the way his body shook with adrenaline, just the same as yours was. “Maybe I don’t hate this spider.”

“I could be venomous.” You shrugged, your fingers slowly creeping up the expanse of his torso, feeling the toned muscle that lay just beneath his suit.

“As long as you don’t bite, I think we’ll be ok.” His mask scrunched up where you imagined his lips would be.

“I-“ Another explosion rocked the building beneath your feet. He tore his gaze away from you. He sighed heavily and reluctantly took a step back. “I have to go.”

Your touch lingered on him for as long as you could, almost fearful that he would completely vanish the second you let him go. “I know.” The tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of your hips.

“I’ll come back, I swear.” His voice cracked. 

“Go save the world Spidey and I’ll let you take me on a date.” And with a gentle kiss to his masked cheek, you fully broke away from the other half of your soul. 

He jumped onto the ledge of the building you stood atop of. “Just so long as there’s plenty of flies for me to eat.” And as he swung away, your laughter still ringing in his ears, Peter was suddenly glad that there was one person in the world who hated spiders.

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[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → soulmate AU, angst, sadness, fluff

Summary → Peter reconnects with his rejected soulmate, rekindling hope and love.

(gif not mine)

Peter Benjamin Parker, a sophomore at Empire State University, was a lonely soul. Even after spending a year here, he hadn’t made any friends, nor did he want to. The risks were too high, and he couldn't bear the thought of someone else getting hurt because of him.

In a world where almost everyone had a soulmate, Peter was an anomaly. Yes, he had a soulmate too, but the very thought of her made him uncomfortable. The idea of soulmates had lost its charm after Uncle Ben’s death. He had witnessed Aunt May’s slow descent into grief as her soulmate tattoo faded, a painful reminder of the love she had lost.

Peter had met his soulmate just two months after Uncle Ben's death. But grief-stricken and lost, he wasn’t ready for a connection like that. He rejected her without a second thought, without even sparing a glance. She was heartbroken. Unlike Peter, she had always loved the idea of soulmates. The pain of his rejection was unbearable, and she moved away from Midtown High during their sophomore year, thanks to her dad’s job transfer. It was a bittersweet relief—seeing Peter at school, knowing they were meant to be together but couldn’t be, had been too much to bear.

Peter felt guilty after she left, but his apology was never voiced. Over time, with the weight of being Spider-Man and the pressures of his studies, he gradually forgot about her. He dated MJ in their senior year, then came the supervillain chaos, Doctor Strange’s spell, and the aftermath of it all. And now, he was alone.

That night, after an exhausting patrol, all Peter wanted was to collapse into the cramped studio apartment he called home and fall asleep. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, the word "soulmate" and your face unexpectedly floated into his mind. It was strange, after so many years. He drifted off with thoughts of you lingering.

The next day, Peter went to the university as usual, walking absentmindedly through the crowded hallways. That’s when he saw you. Never in his dreams he thought he would see you again, but here you are. You were standing at a corner with three of your friends, laughing and chatting. His breath caught in his throat. You looked the same yet different. Still the same height—Peter had always loved the idea of having a shorter lover. You still wore glasses, but now you looked more mature, more beautiful. A wave of regret and longing washed over him. He hoped, against all odds, that you had forgotten your first interaction. He wanted, no, needed a fresh start.

Without knowing why, Peter found himself walking toward you, his eyes locked on your face in awe. When you and your friends noticed him, you asked with a small smile, "Can I help you?"

"Um—I…" Peter stammered, lost in the moment.

"Are you okay?" You asked again, concerned a bit.

Suddenly, Peter’s grip slipped, and he dropped the book he had been holding. The thud of it hitting the ground broke the spell he was in. Both of you bent down to pick it up, and as you handed it back to him, your eyes caught sight of his wrist. The same soulmate tattoo that adorned your wrist. Time seemed to freeze.

You were shocked, elated. Without a word, you closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, your head resting against his chest. Peter hesitated for a moment before enveloping you in his arms, holding you tight.

"It’s you. It’s really you. I thought I’d never find you after so many years. I thought I’d never meet my soulmate," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. Your friends cheered behind you, their voices distant in Peter’s ears. You pulled away slightly, but your arms stayed around him. Peter gazed into your eyes, tears brimming in his own.

"I’m sorry it took so long," he whispered, apologizing for more than just time. Apologizing for the past.

"You’re so pretty," you said, your voice filled with wonder.

"So are you. You’re beautiful," Peter replied, his voice soft and sincere. He hugged you again, this time with a newfound resolve.

"I’ll never leave you," you promised, unaware of the weight of your words. But Peter felt it. In that moment, he swore to himself that he would protect you with everything he had. He would fight every battle, face every enemy, until his dying breath, to ensure your safety. You were his future, his hope. Destiny, or whatever force had brought you back into his life, had its way, and Peter was ready to embrace it.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[unpublishediary]

You Need to Sleep (Peter Parker)

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Peter notices that you are stressed out and not getting enough sleep. He becomes concerned and determined to help them through it. (encouraging and eventually forcing you to sleep.)

INTEREST₊˚ Peter Parker X Reader

WARNINGS(S)‧₊˚ implied insomnia, stress

| masterlist | requests open—(PLS REQUESTT) |

“No coffee run today?” Peter questioned with a smirk as he watched you rush towards him. Usually you beat him to the train stop every morning with a steaming cup in hand.

“Nope,” you ran your fingers through your tangled hair, slightly annoyed that you didn't have time to brush it before leaving, “I slept through my alarm.”

“That’s unusual for you,” Peter joked, but his face fell, noticing that your usual enthusiasm wasn’t there, “hey you ok?”

“Yeah,” you looked at him, but it seemed that your mind wasn’t completely there, “just an off morning.”

He thought for a bit, “how about this,” he spoke up, “next time text me and I’ll grab something for you.”

You gave him a tired smile as the train approached in your peripheral vision, “you don’t need to do that.”

He nudged you with his side, smiling back at you, “I know.”

As the week went on, Peter beat you to the stop every day. Each time, you looked more and more worn out and still didn’t bring the familiar coffee cup he’d gotten used to seeing.

The first couple days he noticed your tiredness, he thought it was because of the absence of caffeine, but on the fifth day he beat you to the stop, he knew it had to be more than that.

“I know you didn’t ask, but I stopped by and got you this.” Peter’s arm was extended towards you with a coffee cup from the cafe you haven't been able to visit in awhile. He slightly wondered why you never texted him to grab something after he offered.

Confusion was still apparent through your tired features, “For me?”

His face turned red, “Yeah, I walked by and figured you would want something too.” That was a slight lie, because he woke up earlier on purpose to find the shop you visited.

You looked down to see another cup in his hand, and took the cup he held out to you, “thank you Peter, it means a lot.”

He nodded but he wanted to bring up what he’d been noticing lately. “Have you— um, have you been getting enough sleep?” The hesitation was apparent in his voice, “you just seem more tired lately.” His concern increased when he would see you fall asleep in class.

The last couple days you had been more tired than usual. The stress you put on yourself to manage both work and extracurriculars while keeping your grades up caught up to you. Sleep became a sacrifice in order to keep up. “To be honest I need to sleep more, but with so much to do it feels impossible.”

Peter knew that feeling, sometimes managing everything along with his other identity felt overwhelming. Seeing your energy drain day by day made him feel bad, he never wanted that for you and he wished he could lift all the weight off your shoulders.

That night after patrolling, Peter found himself knocking on your window. He could see you at your desk lit up by the faint glow of your lamp, reading the book your English teacher gave both of you that week to finish.

He knocked again but you didn’t look up, almost like you were stuck in a trance… or asleep? He would’ve left you there if you were in your bed, but the position you were in looked majorly uncomfortable.

Peter was careful to open the window and walk over to you as quietly as he could. “Hey,” he whispered, touching your shoulder, “Hey it’s time to go to your bed.” You were leaned over on your desk, one hand propping up your head. He shook you a little more and you shot up. “It’s ok, it's just me.” He let out a rushed whisper knowing he scared you, “I just wanted you to sleep comfortably.”

You looked around confused for a second until your gaze fell onto your clock, “No,” you let out, standing up to find your backpack, “no no no I fell asleep?” You had so much to do and you were more behind because you decided to ‘rest your eyes’ in the middle of reading.

“You can do it tomorrow,” Peter insisted, he didn’t like the way you seemed to panic about stopping to rest, “you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep after I’m finished with—”

Peter grabbed your shoulders so you would stop. Looking into your eyes, he repeated himself again, this time slowly. “You need to sleep,” he enunciated each word hoping you would understand that keeping yourself up wasn't healthy and that you needed to stop and take a break.

You shook your head, “Peter—”

He didn’t give up, knowing you wouldn’t rest until you did something else productive, he came up with an idea.

You were confused when he took the book off the desk and pulled you along with him across the bedroom. After throwing the book on your bed, he took off his suit and got into your bed, “come on,” he patted the empty space near him.

You lazily slid under the covers next to him, and he opened the book to where you previously had the bookmark.

“Where did you leave off?” His fingers brushed down the page, “Here?” He asked, brushing his fingers through your hair. Once you nodded, he started to read to you with your head on his chest.

Every time he flipped a page, he looked down to see if you were sleeping. With drooping eyelids he could tell you were trying hard to stay awake, but after a while he sensed your slowing heartbeat and quieted breathing. As he drifted off to sleep with you, he decided that tomorrow’s coffee run would be his treat.

masterlist <— for more like this

follow for more <3

[agent-tempest]

My favorite fanfics!

Loki Friggason [Marvel]

Dancing in the dark (with you between my arms) by @holymultiplefandomsbatman [Fluff]

Paper rings by @cherryrogers [Pure fluff]

Back in your arms by @sarahscribbles [starts angsty but happiest fluffiest ending]

Remus Lupin [Marauders Era]

I don't want them. I want you by @theemporium [Fluff, Marriage, Drunk!Remus]

You are in love by @starstruckmoony [fluff]

Red by @jamespottersdaisy [Banter, fluff]

Gold Rush by @jamespottersdaisy [pure fluff]

Hiccups and hijinks by @dreaminginpastels [Plus-size!Reader, fluff, mutual pining, mentions of insecurity and self-doubt]

Jealous Prof!Reader by @turvi [Fluff, wife!Reader]

Let me help by @jamespottersdaisy [bad mental health, eating disorder?, angst]

Remus saying "I love you" to the for the first time by @theemporium [xReader, pure fluff]

Remus taking care of Drunk!Reader by @theemporium [Potter!Reader, Drunk!Reader, Soft Remus]

Remus being soft only with reader near fullmoons by @lizard-onawindowpane [Pure fluff]

Calm after the storm by @earthgirl616 [enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds]

Pinky Promise by @jamespottersdaisy [Pre and Post Moon!Remus, Remus and reader have a fight]

Our Band Part 1 Part 2 by @wzrd-wheezes [Marauders Band AU, Barista!Reader]

Kaz Brekker [Grishaverse]

Deadly fever by @webslinger-holland [mentions of severe illness, mentions of traumatic childhood, mentions of needles and bloodletting]

Book Club by @rainydaymiscellaneous [fluff, Kaz is in love]

There was this boy... by @mcntsee [Fluff]

Schon by @mcntsee [Kinda ooc Kaz, kaz is ok with y/n’s touch. Stabbing, blood, killing]

Peter Parker [TASM]

Worth Saving by @fettuccin-e [Hurt/Comfort]

Sirius Black [Marauders Era]

I think he knows by @theemporium [potter!reader, fluff, James being a Mood]

Words that slip through by @padfootagain [Fluff, tiny bit of Angst(?)]

For your family by @padfootagain [Fluff, Arrange marriage trope, Soulmate au]

Forced by @sirisuorionblack [Fluff, Arrange Marriage trope, toxic household]

Sirius wants a hug, but doesn't know how to ask by @gtgbabie0 [Fluff, touchstarved Sirius]

Everything has changed by @once-upon-an-imagine [Fluff, Lupin!Reader, Jilly Wedding]

Sirius being jealous of a cat by @theemporium [fluff, jealous!Sirius and *in steve's voice* Language]

A cozy rainy night with Sirius by @theemporium [pure fluff]

James Potter [Marauders era]

Stop flirting with the nurse, it's embarrassing by @perpetuallydaydreaming [Fluff, Siri & Pete being melodramatic]

First Impressions by @jackie5656 [Fluff, Descriptions of assault and attempted assault]

Just to Kiss by @chrryhrt [Frat!James x Reader, Idiots to lovers, friends to lovers, small mention of alcohol]

Regulus Black [Marauders era]

Coward by @sirisuorionblack [Hurt/comfort, Arrange marriage trope, acedemic rivals]

Moon Boys [Moon Knight, Marvel]

Jake Lockley- Cucumber face mask and fist of vengeance by @wysteria-clad [Fluff]

Jack Lockley- dlz by @ichorai [Angst, mild fluff, marriage au]

Marc, Steven and Jake- Clumsy by @marvelsswansong [fluff]

Marc, Steven and Jake- Secret Identities Part 1 Part 2 by @bensolosbluesaber [Fluff, reader is an Avenger]

Benedict Bridgerton [Bridgerton]

Matchmakers by @siempre-bucky [fluff]

Not for him by @iwritefandomimagines [Platonic!Anthony playing matchmaker, Fluff, slight angst]

Second son by @fayes-fics

Druig [Eternals, Marvel]

Druig x Reader by @siempre-bucky [fluff]

Stephen Strange [Marvel]

July 19th by @frostandflamesfanfic [Fluff, Strange being a dad to America]

[indecisivemuch]

Time wasn't in our favor - Part 4 (Happy Ending)

Pairing: TASM Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Female!Reader

Summary: "Maybe I'll give you another reward if you manage to save my New York city," - What if...your soulmate is from another universe but you didn't know? Soulmate AU. Set during NWH, fluff.

Note: Here's the happy ending, if I am honest, I think I'm better at writing sad endings.

Word count: 1k

Series Masterlist: Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Happy Ending, Sad Ending.

The girl ran through the portal without any hesitation, jumping slightly when she saw it closed straight away. Cautiously exiting the alley, the girl gulped as she realized how reckless she was being - entering another universe with no plan beforehand. How was she going to find Peter?

It has been seven days, three hours and thirty-two minutes since he left his soulmate's universe. 

Right after returning to his own world, Peter checked his tattoo. When he did, staring back at him was no longer the faded gray spider web tattoo. In its place was now a red spider tattoo. It was as if the world hated him, and to show this evident hatred, it made his first soulmate die, and his second from another universe where he could not travel to. Ever since then, the boy could barely have a blink of sleep at night or even function properly in the morning. This meant that his performance at being Spiderman was plummeting, and people noticed.

Swinging along buildings in New York City, Peter sought for any commotion that indicated trouble. That was when he heard it:

“Spiderman,” it was far away, but his heightened sense of hearing allowed him to catch it. He glanced in the general direction and saw a person standing atop his favorite building. “Peter Parker,” that was when alarms rang in his head. Has somebody discovered his identity? He swung towards the building, approaching the person without revealing himself.

“I have like roughly 10 minutes.” He almost could not believe it, hearing her voice. Never would he think of meeting the Y/N from his universe. He peered at her from the shadows and it almost made his mouth drop at how similar they looked. There was nothing different about her, which surprised him considering how different he looked in other universes.

“If I can’t find you, Doctor Strange will come back and drag me back home and I need you to…somehow hear me. Spiderman, Peter Parker, Peter 3, or any other name you go by. I…” she stopped before sniffling.

“I can’t give up now, but at the same time, how do I find you in a New York city that is actually so much different than mine? I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know what to do. Why are you so near but so far at the same time,” she sobbed, feeling helpless. Indeed, time was almost up. Y/N wished she had bargained for more time. She went to many of the locations where she thought he would be. She even tuned into the news for criminal activities and recklessly ran to them hoping that Spiderman would be there. But because of his distracted state, Peter has barely made it to crime scenes, and instead slacked off. 

Realizing that this was the Y/N that he met yesterday - his soulmate, Peter almost lurched forward from the shadow to wipe away her emerging tears. His heart was in disbelief, but he knew it was her.

“Y/N?” he softly spoke, hoping not to scare her with his presence. Nevertheless, she jumped slightly before realizing that it was him.

"Peter...it's me..."

At this, the boy couldn't help but pull her in for a hug, embracing her in his arms and inhaling as he buried his head in her neck. “I never thought I would see you again,” he muttered against her skin, hoping he could remember her scent before she leaves.

Any thought of leaving left her as she felt herself melt into his arms. How could she? Especially when this was the most that she felt like she was home. How could she when she knew how empty it felt without him or the memories of their moments together? She bit her lip as her head and heart started battling each other. But at the end, her heart won, and it ignored any sensibility or logic that her mind was yelling - that Doctor Strange would come and drag her back to her original universe, or the fact that she might bump into herself in this world.

��...Take me around our New York, Peter,” the girl blurted out while in his embrace, referring back to their conversation days ago. She watched as Peter pulled away from their hug and looked at her. There was slight confusion before a look of shock painted over his face instead.

“You’re staying?” he almost yelled, his tone holding some doubt on whether he had read her implications correctly. She laughed at his exclamation before nodding eagerly to confirm. Peter chuckled in disbelief before lifting Y/N up and flung her around in his arms with pure joy. Their harmonious laughter echoed off the building as the two embraced each other.

“But what about…what about your universe? Don’t you have to go back?” he asked, despite hating to imagine that happening.

“Peter…you’re my soulmate. My universe is here with you,” Y/N muttered, grinning up at Peter, who did not reply to this. Instead, he chose to take a moment of silence with her in his arms, and allow his mind to process the thought of having her forever.

“You know I won’t say ‘no’, right?” Peter whispered as he peered down at Y/N. “I won’t say ‘no’ if you say that you’ll stay, and I would not give a damn about the universe as long as I have you” he added, gulping at what was probably the most selfish thing he has ever uttered.

“The world has taken so much away from me, and I just want to be selfish for once in my life, and do something for me…and I want you. I need you. So, if you say you’ll stay, I would never say ‘no’. Never,” Peter rambled. He watched as Y/N’s eyes started to water from his words.

“Y/N, I need you.”

“Have me,” Y/N responded with no hesitation. “Keep me…I would not say ‘no’ to that, Peter,” she added.

He glanced down at her lips indiscreetly, causing the girl to grin. 

“Our New York. I like the sound of that,” he confessed. "By the way, you still owe me.”

Y/N scrunched her eyebrows at this, trying to scour her memory for whatever she was in debt for. Her confusion only made Peter grin. 

"I believe I did save your New York," Y/N's face immediately lightened as she remembered what this was about.

"Oh, my knight in shining armor, Peter Parker! I'm assuming you're here to collect your reward?" Y/N teased, her hand slowly wrapping around his neck. Peter, on the hand, only smirked at her question and did not answer. Instead, he pulled her in, connecting their lips together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

In the middle of New York, a girl entered her favorite sandwich shop. “Hi, can I get a meatball sandwich without pickles and extra cheese, please? Thanks, Richard” the girl ordered.

“No problem, Y/N. How was the shift?”

“Super busy...and depressing. I had to slip away to get my mind off today's surgeries. Everything just seems to fall apart today,” Doctor Y/N L/N answered. Surgery after surgery, the girl has worked for over 50 hours without sleeping. Not only that, but the bus accident has left many in critical conditions.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here, a brownie on the house,”

“Thank you, Richard, I’ll see you soon.”

The girl picked up her sandwich and brownie before heading towards the door. Before she could reach it, her knee gave away. She collapsed on the ground, groaning loudly as she felt an excruciating pain on her wrist, where her soul mark was.

“What’s happening?” she looked down to see her tattoo of a spider with two shorter legs slowly vanishing. 

“Y/N?” the owner called out, coming up from behind her, trying to figure out what was wrong. The doctor, however, only had her eyes on what was happening to her wrist. There it was, a pink scar in the spot where her soulmate tattoo used to be. Without answering the man behind her, Y/N took out her phone and dialed it.

“This is the Palmer-Strange clinic for soulmate care. How may we help you?” a voice answered through the device.

“Get Doctor Christine Palmer on the phone, please.”

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

Anddd that's it for this series. Thank you for reading it. I wrote this pre-"across the spider-verse" so if it doesn't mash well with that, I'm sorry. Miguel would definitely not like it if the events pan out like this ending. The bonus bit is just my imagination spinning and creating a whole universe for this series. Feel free to head over to the sad ending as well.

Series Masterlist: Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Happy Ending, Sad Ending.

[crackedpumpkin]

It's time.

Fic time, to be exact. Well, to decide which Fic I'll write next, to be more exact. This post is for my other fandoms, such as Into The Spiderverse, Haikyuu, Danny Phantom, and Ninjago :)

Here's how it's gonna go: You guys will be the ones to decide the order of which will go up first! So, the number of votes will decide which order they'll go up in (e.g. the most popular one will be started first, etc.)

If you're here in my account for my Leo fics, there's a seperate poll on my Profile just for you. You're gonna be spoilt for choice :)

Here's the Lowdown + Explanation for each one:

Miles Morales x Artist! Reader

Takes place a month after the events of the movie. Moment of Inspo can be found -> HERE!

Warnings: Fluff. Just a lotta fluff and banter. Reluctant Friends to Lovers

He's Spiderman, the local hero of New York City. But ever since he's started carrying on the legacy left behind by Peter Parker, he's been mobbed in the streets for autographs, and even got a few stalkers too.

Then in a moment of carelessness, Miles gets trapped by you, an artist who draws anything that catches their eye.

And your newest muse just so happens to be him.

But no matter how hard he tries, he just can't figure out how you discovered his secret identity.

So, he makes it his newest mission, his most difficult one yet.

Danny Phantom x Superstitious! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Ghosts, Mentions of Violence, Lots of Superstitions, Friends to Lovers

He's the crime fighting, butt kicking hero Danny Phantom, and you're one of his best friends.

Unfortunately, you weren't there when he got turned into a half-human, half ghost.

Now, he has no idea how to break the news to you.

Nishinoya x Manager! Reader

A continuation of my Oneshot: New Manager.

Soulmate AU! Ninjago Cole x Reader

A continuation of my Oneshot: Infuriating Melodies