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waspenned · 3 years ago

Text

atomic • peter parker (18+)

it's not like you actually think peter parker is stupid, you just know he likes it when you call him names • 2k

warnings: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!! sexual content, sub!college!pete, that beautiful balance of degradation and praise, a splash of mirror kink, pete recieving oral, gender non-specific reader !!!! light choking

now playing: atomic by sleeper

a/n: this is my first foray into smut to please forgive me for the cringefest ur about to attend anyway sub Peter rights and anyone with any genitalia can read this because I believe in smut 4 all !!!! this is also dedicated to @subspider for the masterpiece, my pillar, my bible, wolf-teeth. title inspired by atomic by blondie but specifically the sleeper version bc its hornier. im still taking requests and now have a taglist to join if you'd like to be told when I upload fic :)

slow and steady, his hand inches towards you like a spider, trekking the hills and dales of his striped note sheets before resting beside yours; his index finger scratching at your knuckle. there’s a long moment of silence between you as he scratches away, before he eventually evolves to poking.

“hey bestie.” he prods, like you haven’t already made it obvious you’re ignoring him. usually, studying with peter isn’t an entire pain in the ass, but he seems to be hellbent on distracting you today, jostling you with his shoulder and bumping you with his knee. any other time, you would have been happy to play along - it wasn’t like you were above doodling on his paper when he was distracted - but nothing was fun with the threat of midterms hanging over your heads.

outside, the pigeons coo and rustle in the nest near his dorm room window, the general hustle and bustle of campus droning away three stories beneath you. the two of you are poring over study notes at his desk, buried under reams of worksheets and notes and hand-outs, and when you look up at him he’s got that sappy look on his face, like you can take the pain of schoolwork away. if only.

“i��m studying, bestie.”

“i’m bored.”

“good for you.

“my brain hurts.” he’s whinging now, scratching and scratching at you, a feather-light touch, until you drop the biro from your lips and look at him, unimpressed. peter is pouting at you, his bottom lip set into a jut, feigning a tremble. “what?”

“we have midterms, pete.”

“it’ll be fine!”

“yeah, you’ll be fine. we’re not all midtown tech prodigies.” you stick your tongue out at him, and his face crumples for real now, his eyebrows furrowing into an unhappy knot. “what is it?”

“don’t say that. you’re really smart - smarter than me.” it’s a blatant lie - it’s not like you’re an idiot, but only one of you manufactures spider-web technology and takes down supervillains in between classes, and it’s certainly not you. you can see what he’s trying to do from a mile away, his head cocked keen like a flower turned to the sunlight, but you don’t have time for what you know he wants. instead, you roll your eyes at him, but it only seems to goad him on.

“shut up.”

“you are!”

“i’m not doing this right now, pete.” he’s playing dumb as usual, but he can’t stifle the smile that tugs at his mouth, breaking into a sheepish grin. you should have anticipated it really, he always gets like this around exam season; you’re not really sure what it is, but you suppose the expectations get to him. he spends most of his time stressing over his grades, and his aunt, and whether or not manhattan will be intact when he wakes up, that you guess he just enjoys a little simplicity - for someone else to be in charge for once.

it started off as simple sex last year, nothing complicated, just as a stress reliever and a wind-down to a long day of studying. ‘simple sex’ quickly snowballed into something else after you’d accidentally lost your balance while riding him, your hand slipping to his throat to catch yourself. it had wrenched a groan from peter that was so embarrassingly loud, he had to hide in the bathroom for ten minutes, stewing in shame until you coaxed him out again. now, you were at a stage where he enjoyed the embarrassment of it, sought it out. it made sense really; he spent all day having to be so smart and responsible, that all he wanted when he saw you was to switch his brain off and be treated like an idiot. he spends most of the run-up to exams as putty in your hands, and usually, you’re perfectly happy to take the pressure off of him; it’s just that you’ve now got an entire semester’s worth of material to study, and not a lot of time to actually study it.

“doing what?” scratch scratch scratch. you’re quickly fed up with it, your hand snapping and suddenly his wrist is locked into your grasp, pinned against one of his hardback textbooks with a light thud. the room falls into a lull, the november gale dropping to a whisper and stilling the planetrees outside. some wild glint is sparked in his eyes like a flint - you’re both the steel and the tinder, igniting and fuelling it.

“peter.”

“please.” the lilt in his voice seems to seal the deal, every atom in his body thrumming at the cadence of you, ringing like a tuning fork. he’s got that look again, the one he knows melts you, and something gets you by the throat. not peter, no, but perhaps the situation of it all.

ah, fuck it. he needs it. you need it.

in an instant, you're both up on the desk and you’re pushing him across the cool surface, your arm on his chest forcing him down, down, until he’s pressed to his notes on metaphysics. he’s absolutely delighted, a breath tugging itself from his lungs in an ecstatic huff.

“is this it? is this what you’re so desperate for?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“don’t be so fucking stupid, parker.” he fidgets under your lap, eyes blown wide and dark, hands grasping reflexively at your thighs, using them as leverage to rasp his hips into yours. you rise up on your haunches, denying him the sensation, and he whines, his voice small, a low and gentle murmur.

“say it again. please.”

“don’t beg, it’s pathetic.” his back arches with your tone, his nails skimming your skin. peter is settling into this character far too well, leaning into your touch as you grasp his jaw, mouth lolling open. you adjust your grip, pressing your palm to his cheek and forcing his head to the side, sinking him into his ruffled chemistry notes. his face is turned to face the mirror on the wall parallel, but he’s just looking at you, legs scrambling on the oakwood in search of purchase - his hips canting up, up, up.

“stop moving.” there’s a small whine, the crack of a whip in his throat, and he freezes. your fingers crawl, moving, wrapping, holding a grip around his throat, pinning him in place - peter is thrilled at the sheer force of it, gasping. “look at you. there’s nothing in that pretty little head, is there?”

there's an attempt made to nod his head, but your hold on him tightens at the movement, a breath hanging in the air, his adam’s apple bobbing beneath the heel of your hand. his flesh is warm and pliable beneath you, but the hair he hasn’t had a chance to shave yet scrapes against your palm as he flexes his jaw. the way he’s staring at himself is almost criminal, lips parted as the flush on his face spreads like fire to his neck and ears - burning your fingertips.

“harder.” peter whispers, and you squeeze, his body curling up, straining, strung taut. his hand reaches for you, tracing the pad of a trembling finger over the slope of your cheek, outstretched like michelangelo’s adam. “harder, pleasepleaseplease.”

“jesus christ.” you breathe out, watching a smirk tug at his mouth, head thrown back as he watches you in the mirror. his hair spills into the stacks of your notebooks, splayed out, a chestnut halo. dropping your hips, he jolts like something’s shocked him, grinding up and into you with a groan. he’s hard and hot against your thigh, the weight of him caught between you and the plane of his stomach, your hand sliding up his throat into the dip where his neck meets his jaw, tipping his head back. between gasps and semi-desperate rutting, he still has time for sarcasm.

“my name is peter.”

“shut up.” you want to tighten your grip, to punish him, but he’d probably like that. instead, you indulge him, working the stress and tension out of him like a knot, shifting down his body until the drawstring of his sweatpants is in your sights. they’re shucked down his hips as he lifts them for you, releasing him from the confines of cotton and polyester, swelling against his happy trail. there’s no hand on his neck anymore, but he stays where you put him, willing and obeying with every fibre of his being. as he turns his head, you see an smudged equation printed in blue across his cheek, pressed there by freshly-written ink.

“you wanna ask nicely for me, or did you forget how?” you ask, and he keens at you, shifting under your weight, desperate, until you pin his hips still, thumbs stamping bruises into the peach-soft skin in the dips of his pelvis. you want something akin to devouring him, digging in your teeth, sinking in your nails, tasting him on your tongue like syrup and grenadine. “come on, show me there’s a brain in there, sweetheart.”

“will you go down on me? please. please.”

“good boy.”

his honeyed gaze is fixed on you through the mirror, watching you as you take him into your mouth, and the gasp that hangs in the air seems to be the only sound in the world; pealing like a church bell from saint patrick’s. it sinks quickly through his chest into a moan, sweetness mixed into the timbre of it, like the bursting of pomegranate seeds from hades itself. his chest heaves, rising and falling under his university hoodie, sweat beading at his temples. hair falls over his forehead as he tenses, shoulders curling in on himself, brows furrowing. your tongue slides over him, drinking up what beads at the tip as if it were ambrosia, and the sounds he produces are nothing short of illegal. you feel every vein and ridge of him, the plush slit at the tip, the petal-soft velvet of his skin.

“love you.” peter huffs, head lolling back and exposing his rosied neck, stumbling over his words. his hands flutter over you, moths to the flame, before settling into your hair, pushing it from your face and exposing it to the plane of the mirror. you watch each other in its surface, his eyes starried and captivated by your ministrations, like narcissus in the pond. “so hot."

you leave him with a pop, spit slick, and smile at the acme of him, your lips brushing the taut skin at the underside.

“is that all you can manage?”

“while you’re doing tha- that-” you’re moving again, his speech juddering to a stop, a moan stuttering out of him. he curses once, then again, hands fisting in your hair as you increase in speed, tongue flat against him.

“fuck, i- 'm gonna-!” he cuts himself off with a hitch of his breath, hands pulling his practice chemistry exams into tense fistfuls. your response is a low hum, your mouth full - ‘already?’

it’s only when his come pools in the fold of your tongue like oyster pearls, strings of your name falling from his lips like a rosary, that you realise he’s sprawled over all of your test notes, crumpling them. you swallow him down, and he falls back, spent.

“if you’ve ruined any of my notes, parker, i’m blaming you for my grade.”

“you can blame me for anything you want if it means you do that to me.”

“no,” you muse, swiping your thumb at the corner of your mouth, and then his cheek, marring the ink into a blue stripe. his nose is smushed against the wood, eyes closed in bliss as he stretches out like a cat that got the cream. “that’s only for when you’re being annoying.”

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tommyparkerr · 3 years ago

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Bad Timing | Peter Parker x Reader

It’s been awhile. I missed y’all. Life update: I’m now obsessed with Andrew Garfield (again), but who isn’t. I may or may not write specifically for his Peter Parker in the future. I have ideas.

Warnings: Cheating, a tiny bit of violence

Words: 7.2k

-Masterlist-

B A D T I M I N G :

“I don’t care! They’re my friends, Brad. What do you expect me to do?”

There were better places to fight than in the Midtown Tech parking lot. You were sure more than one person was listening in.

Brad rolled his eyes. “Stop hanging out with them!”

“You’re serious?” you laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not choosing between you and them, Brad. And if you think for a second that I would choose you over them, you’re sorely mistaken. So you might as well get used to them being in my life.”

You turned and walked away before either of you could say something you’d regret. On your way into Midtown, you tried your best to cool off and ignore the dozens of eyes following you. Still angry but feeling less heated, you walked to the hall where you knew your friends would be.

MJ was the only one there. One of her brows popped up as you rather forcefully ripped open your locker.

“So” she said, dragging out the ’o’, “wanna tell me what that show was all about?”

“You didn’t stick around and listen in?”

MJ scoffed. “You know I love spying, but not on my friends’ relationships. If there’s something wrong, they can tell me themselves. Plus, I have better things to do.”

“Fair enough,” you reply, relieved she hadn’t heard the argument like everyone else.

“So?” she prompted. “What happened?”

You signed, shutting your locker. “Nothing happened. It was just a fight over something stupid. Where are Pete and Ned?”

MJ picked up on your hurried change of subject, but she was merciful enough to let you get away with it.

“They’re in class already. They didn’t hear it either, by the way.”

You breathed a little sigh of relief with that additional news. A small, genuine smile made its way onto your face. “Those two boys are the nosiest people I know. How’d you manage that?”

MJ smirked, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it.”

You laughed and started walking to class, MJ by your side. “Well, however you did it, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

XxX

To your surprise, neither Ned or Peter had asked any questions regarding Brad or your rather public fight this morning. You wondered if that had something to do with MJ as well.

Brad hadn’t spoken to you all morning, but you could say the same. You’d decided on the silent treatment until he bucked up and apologized. Until then, acknowledgement didn’t seem too pressing. Not even at lunch when you could feel his eyes on you, silently stewing over your decision to sit with your friends instead of his. Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice—you just hadn’t planned on bringing it up. But MJ couldn’t keep Ned and Peter quiet forever, no matter how terrifying she could be.

“Uh, Y/N?” Ned asked, very obviously pointing to Brad. “Your boyfriend is staring at us. Or you. Or me. Wait, is he staring at me?”

“Trust me, it’s all of the above,” you snapped, making Ned awkwardly drop his finger and shift around on his seat. Peter looked like he wanted to smile at his friend’s response but was fighting it due to the inappropriate timing. He wasn’t doing a very good job, though, which made the situation slightly more amusing and caused an apology to erupt from your mouth. “It’s not you, Ned. I’m sorry. Brad just needs to get something through his thick skull, and until he does I’m rather ticked.”

“I’ll say,” Peter murmured under his breath, causing Ned to let out a giggle and MJ to kick him under the table.

“It’s fine, MJ,” you say, waving a hand with a smile on your own face now. You shook your head, going back to stabbing at your lunch. “But I commend you for upholding girl-code.”

“I abide by no such code,” MJ lightly argued, flipping her book open again.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that, big shot,” you reply, making Peter and Ned chuckle. “Hey, Pete?”

Peter stopped laughing and turned his full attention to you, looking like a deer in headlights. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Relax, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to ask if you’d mind if we made a stop at the library before walking home today. I’ve got some reading material to check out.”

“Oh,” Peter said, still processing your words. When he finally did, he looked slightly relieved and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Sure.”

“Great!” you exclaim, waiting for Peter to take a drink of water. At the perfect moment, you smirked and added, “It’s a date.”

MJ was a wonderful actress, pretending to be furious when Peter’s spit take landed some half-water, half-saliva droplets on her book, but you could see the hidden amusement in her eyes and considered your mission successful.

XxX

“Really, Parker?” you asked, holding up Biochemistry for Dummies—the book he had chosen to check out.

“Oh, get it out already. I’m such a nerd, why would I study biochemistry for fun-“

“Actually,” you interrupted, bumping him with your hip as you walked to the front desk, “I was going to ask why you were wasting your time on it. We both know you can recite everything in that book, inside and out. You’re no ‘dummy’ in the subject.”

Peter looked sheepish (and a tad embarrassed if the red on the tips of his ears meant anything), rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s good to go back to the basics every now and then.”

You rolled your eyes with a snort. “Uh, huh.”

When your books were all checked out and put in your bags, you and Peter started your walk home. You didn’t live in the same apartment building, but his just so happened to be within two blocks of yours which made it rather convenient to implement the buddy system. You’d been doing it for years now, ever since junior high.

Apparently Peter had something on his mind today, as he was pretty quiet other than to give the bare minimum response to anything you said. You were used to it, though; he wasn’t often like this, but whenever he was it meant he was either dealing with a situation at home, at his ‘internship’, with his friends, or sometimes just random strings of thought. It was fine, anyway. His silence gave you more time to think about what had happened with Brad. There wasn’t a whole lot to go over, as you’d had the same fight what had to be four times now, but it still made your blood boil.

He was going to apologize like he always did. But you had no problem making him sweat until he did.

“Hey, Y/N? Can I ask you something?”

You blinked a couple times to reacclimate yourself with the outside world, then said, “Of course.”

Peter hesitated. “I overheard a couple of girls talking about you and Brad’s fight this morning. I...I know what it was about.”

You pursed your lips and tucked your thumbs behind your book bag straps, your mood suddenly more sour than before. “That’s not really a question.”

“Y/N, I-“

“Look, Peter,” you sighed, stopping in your tracks to turn and face the brown-eyed boy. “This isn’t the first time we’ve fought about this. He just gets pestered by his friends occasionally about why his girlfriend hangs out with the school losers and falls into peer pressure, and then he drills me for the sake of his friends. He’ll apologize within the week-“

“No, that’s-that’s not what I was going to ask,” Peter said, stopping you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Then what were you going to ask?”

He sighed, hanging his head. “Maybe he’s right. I mean, you are his girlfriend. Maybe you shouldn’t be hanging out with us so much. Maybe you should sit with him at lunch sometimes, or even ditch us completely. I don’t want to be the reason your relationship is in hot water all the time, and I’m sure MJ and Ned would agree-“

“Peter-“ you tried, more than a little surprised by his disclosure.

“I guess what I’m asking,” Peter hurried on, getting to his point, “is why do you hang out with us still? Despite your boyfriend and his friends and practically the whole school disapproving?”

You scoff. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Peter blinked, then pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Well, I thought I already listed several reasons just a few moments ago, but if you’d like a recap-“

“No, Peter,” you sighed, grabbing his elbow to turn him and resume your leisurely pace. “What I meant was why would I hang out with people who only like me if I’m dating the popular guy? I’d much rather hang out with people who have known and loved me for me since the sixth grade than have fake friends who would ditch me at the drop of a hat.”

“I…” Peter shook his head, looking a bit guilty. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I’d hate to lose you, I just didn’t want to be the reason you were unhappy.”

“Au contraire, mon frère,” you say, offering Peter a soft smile. “You’re one of the reasons I am happy. You, and Ned, and MJ. And Aunt May’s date loaf.”

That got an actual smile out of Peter. “You know, you keep saying things like that and she’s going to love you more than me.”

“I hate to break it to you, Parker, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure she already does.”

He laughs, giving you a look you can’t quite place. “I don’t doubt that.”

You finish the remainder of your walk in a comfortable silence, neither of you opening up your mouth again until you reach your apartment building. Peter looked a bit awkward—probably from your heart-to-heart not too long ago—and not sure what to do. So you stepped in, slipping your arms between his back and backpack.

“You’re the best, Peter,” you murmured as he hugged you back.

“Yeah,” he said half-heartedly. “I...I try.”

You pulled away with an appreciative smile. “Now, if you ever suggest something as stupid as you did today again, I will hurt you.”

Peter’s lips curled upward and he faux-saluted to you as he walked backward. “Yes ma’am.”

You saluted back with an amused grin, watching him until he disappeared into the crowded New York streets.

XxX

You were right. It only took a day and a half before Brad came up to you at lunch—with an unimpressed look from MJ, an uncomfortable shuffle from Ned, and the classic eye-contact avoidance from Peter—and apologized quite profusely. You weren’t stupid, though. It took quite a long discussion before you were convinced he wouldn’t pull the same stunt again and that he was being sincere.

For the most part, he stuck to his word. You never fought about your choice of friends again, but he’d occasionally make a snide comment regarding one of them; it only took one look from you to shut him up. And you were happy. You both were. You’d gone back to your normal routine of his arm around your shoulders, morning greetings at your locker, and Friday date nights.

Midterms rolled around, and you split your time between studying with your boyfriend and each of your three friends, all of you acing them, and then it was the last football game of the season, and then it was fall break, and then it was the dreaded finals season. You and Brad hadn’t had any major disagreements since your parking lot debacle at the beginning of the year, and he kept quiet for the most part when it came to you spending time with your friends. You had fun, you laughed, you made memories together, and it was good.

Which was why something had to ruin it. You were Y/N Y/L/N, after all—nothing ever stayed perfect for long.

It was a wonderful, sunny, Monday morning when the bubble burst. Brad was at your locker like he was every morning, asking you about your weekend and what all you did, but before you could continue the conversation MJ appeared beside you.

“Hi. Can I talk to you?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer before MJ was dragging you away by your elbow to the girls’ restroom. She did a quick scan of the area, making sure no one was there.

“Why, yes, MJ,” you drawled, “I would love to speak with you.”

Satisfied that the stalls were empty, MJ pulled an ‘Out of Order’ sign from her bag and stuck it to the restroom door.

“Should I even ask where you got that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, letting the door fall shut again.

“Then can I ask what all”—you gestured to the room you were in—“this is about?”

MJ took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something, and you aren’t going to like it.”

You gave her a questioning look. “Okay…? What, did someone slash my tires? Smash my bumper? Break a mirror?”

MJ paused, looking confused for once. “You don’t have a car.”

“Indeed I do not,” you said with a mischievous smile. “I just like to make you doubt yourself sometimes. You see, you get this look on your face, like you’re not quite sure whether or not to believe-“

“Brad cheated on you.”

Your face dropped along with your heart. “I...what?”

MJ sighed and ran a hand down her face. “At a party this weekend. I was there because I rather enjoy crashing parties and making rich kids uncomfortable, but apparently Brad didn’t see me. I saw him, though, dancing with and kissing a random blonde chick.”

You shook your head, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”

An almost sympathetic look formed on MJ’s face. She even looked a little guilty. “I’m sorry.”

You continued to shake your head, your eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you tell me right away? You know where I live, you have my phone number-“

“Yeah, well, I was grounded because I missed my curfew and I figured this kind of news would be best delivered face to face.”

Doubt and anger were overtaking you. “Look, I know I cracked and told you and Ned about Brad not liking me hanging out with you, but don't you think this is a little too far?”

“Wait,” MJ said, holding up a hand. “Are you implying that I’m pulling this out of my ass?”

“Way to connect the dots,” you sarcastically praise her. “Maybe now you can even move onto coloring inside the lines!”

MJ didn’t look angry, to your surprise. She simply looked shocked that you didn’t believe her. “Y/N, look, I’m sorry for being so blunt but what I’m telling you is the truth-“

“I have class to go to and a loyal boyfriend waiting for me at lunch. I’ll see you around, MJ,” you said dismissively, not allowing her to get another word in before pushing past her and exiting the restroom, tearing down the ‘Out of Order’ sign as you went.

XxX

“So…”

You sighed, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk several feet away from you. “So, what?”

Peter took a few moments. “Can I ask why you were sitting with Brad at lunch instead of us and why MJ looked positively murderous?”

“She didn’t tell you?” You laughed, but it wasn’t particularly humorous. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“So…” Peter said again, obviously unsure of where to go from there. You rolled your eyes.

“We had a…disagreement.”

“I gathered that much.”

“Then why did you ask?” you asked, slightly annoyed.

“Because you and MJ have never fought ever, so it had to have been something pretty serious to make you both like this…at least, I think?”

A sigh escaped your mouth when you heard the timidity in his voice. You knew how quickly and easily the boy could shut down, and you didn’t want to push him away. “I’m sorry, Pete. I’m not mad at you, I swear. If I were, I wouldn’t be walking home with you.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for asking. It’s none of my business anyway.”

“No,” you disagreed, “it totally is. You deserve to know.” Peter stayed silent, patiently waiting for the explanation you felt obligated to give him. “Long story short, MJ told me Brad cheated on me at a party this weekend. I told her recently that Brad didn’t like me hanging out with you guys, so she practically despises him anyways, but then she goes and pulls this? I never took her for a liar before, but I guess true colors and all that.”

Peter was frowning, concern in his eyes. “Y/N, are you sure she was-“

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just that I don’t think she’d ever lie about something like that, even if she did hate-“

You glared at him. “Brad would never cheat on me.”

Peter wisely shut up, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He let himself get lost in thought for a few minutes—you could tell by the way his fingers were twitching—before he spoke up again. “Coffee?”

“What?” you replied, blinking a few times.

He pointed across the street to a little coffee shop. “Wanna go get coffee? We can even do some homework together there. It’ll be good to get your mind on something other than MJ or-or Brad.”

You smiled and let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

Peter only offered a small smile in return before grabbing your hand and running across the street with you. When you got into the store, Peter put you in charge of choosing a table and watching your bags while he went to order. He came back with two coffees and a chocolate chip muffin, sliding the muffin to you without a word. You didn’t know if the muffin was a peace offering to get him on your good side or just something to cheer you up, but either way you appreciated it.

“So, ignoring the whole MJ thing, how was your day?”

You sat like that for much longer than you probably should have, doing homework, sharing your muffin (at your insistence), and talking about nothing and everything. It was nice having someone to talk to after the day you’d had. You’d never admit it, but you regretted sitting with Brad and his friends. For one, you didn’t feel comfortable around any of them, and two, now that you had you couldn’t go back to your normal lunch table without working things out with MJ. And that most definitely was not going to happen.

It was a while later when you checked your watch and sighed, starting to pack up your things. “It’s already almost five-thirty. My parents will kill me if I’m not home by six.”

Peter blinked, pulled from his own world of studies, and then began packing up his things as well. “Good call. May would kill me, too.”

You laughed a little. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, acknowledging you. You headed to the opposite side of the shop where the bathrooms were at and had to wait a good minute before it opened up. After that, you hurried as fast as you could, not wanting either you or Peter to get home late. It was why you practically hit the ground running when you were done and why you didn’t see Peter waiting outside the door until he was pulling you back behind the corner.

“Peter?” you said, confused as to why he was over here. “Do you need to use the bathroom too?”

You didn’t like the look he had on his face, full of panic and sympathy and anger. He peeked around the corner, staring at something, but when you tried to join him in seeing what he was seeing, he pulled you back again.

“Peter, what’s going on?” you demanded, trying to get another look into the cafe.

“I-“ He swallowed, his eyes darting back and forth between various places before settling on you. His shoulders slumped. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Sorry for what?”

Peter bit his lip like he always did when he was nervous, then carefully led you to the edge of the wall and pointed a weak finger close to where you’d been sitting. You immediately understood.

MJ hadn’t been lying after all. She was right, all the way down to the girl being a blonde. They were holding hands across the table and Brad was kissing her like he kissed you. Your stomach turned.

Before you could think it through, you marched back to yours and Peter’s table and grabbed your bag, Peter frantically scurrying after you. You saw the moment Brad saw you, his eyes widening in realization and shock.

“What?” you spit. “Didn’t expect to see your girlfriend at the local coffee shop?”

You had to give some credit to the blonde who, upon hearing the word ‘girlfriend’, dropped her jaw and pulled her hand from Brad’s. She was just another unknowing player in his game, apparently.

“How many, huh?” you asked, your blood boiling. “How many girls in the past six months? Two? Five? Twenty?”

The blonde made a disbelieving noise and got up from her chair. “My mom was right. Men are pigs.” With that, she quickly left the shop—much to Brad’s dismay, though he clearly tried to hide it.

“You know what?” you said, following the other girl’s timely exit. “Never mind. I think it goes without saying, but we’re done. This little ‘game’ is over.”

Brad stumbled out of his chair as you started making your way toward the exit as well. “Wait, Y/N—it’s not what it looks like!”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, spinning on your heel to get a good look at him. You knew the entire cafe’s eyes were on you, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. “Then, do tell, what should I be seeing?”

Obviously not prepared to answer that question, Brad stumbled over his words like a bumbling idiot.

“You know,” you said, taking one step closer and narrowing your eyes at your now ex-boyfriend, “MJ told me you cheated on me at a party this weekend. I didn’t believe her. I told her my boyfriend was loyal. I believed in you, Brad.” You shook your head, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you spoke your next words. “That’s the worst part.”

You had to admit, he played the part of the guilty ex really well. If you hadn’t known better, you might have actually believed the tears in his eyes were real.

“Goodbye, Brad.”

With Peter still right alongside you, you turned to walk away again only to be stopped by Brad‘s grip on your forearm.

“Wait, Y/N-“

You shook your arm, trying to get him off. “Give it up, Brad!”

“I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “You’re only sorry because you got caught. Now let me go!”

Brad’s eyes hardened and his hand visibly and painfully tightened on your wrist. “Don’t you dare walk away-“

Suddenly the grip on you was broken and a fist was crashing into Brad’s face, causing a mix of gasps and cheers to ensue throughout the cafe.

“Don't you ever touch her again,” Peter said, his voice like steel and his face tinged red with anger.

Brad groaned, holding his cheek. “I think you broke my jaw!” he whined.

You rolled your eyes, knowing if it was broken then he wouldn’t be able to speak. Peter may have had superhuman strength, and he may have had stronger reactions than most to certain situations, but you also knew he wasn’t stupid enough to unleash his full strength on him—not for someone as pathetic as Brad.

“Yeah?” Peter said, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “If only I could break your heart the way you just shattered hers. Maybe then you’d feel a single ounce of the pain she does.”

You pulled your arm into your side, simply watching the scene in front of you unfold while your heart beat wildly in your chest. Then you turned around and started walking.

Surprisingly enough, no one stopped you or Peter from leaving. It might have had something to do with the sympathetic looks from the staff and more than a few of the women in the café clapping. You wanted to feel proud for standing up for yourself in a way that obviously won the approval of many strangers, but now that you were out of the active situation it was all you could do to hold yourself together. Peter was a blessing as you walked home, never once pushing you to talk or even asking you about your wrist (which was completely unharmed, thanks to Peter’s quick reaction time).

Tears were blurring your vision much sooner than you would have preferred, but you repeatedly blinked them away, knowing you couldn’t break yet. When you finally reached your apartment building, you could see Peter hesitating as to whether or not he should go with you. You knew Aunt May would worry if he didn’t come home, but you also wanted the company. Your parents wouldn’t be home until late that night, and while you never normally minded the occasional late nights, you didn’t want to be alone.

You went inside without a word. When Peter followed you up the stairs, you were more than a little relieved.

Your fingers shook as you got out your keys and attempted to unlock your apartment door—so badly, in fact, that Peter ended up taking them and unlocking it himself.

As soon as the door was shut behind you, Peter removed both of your backpacks and carefully wrapped you up in his arms. That was when the dam broke, tears flooding out of your eyes and ugly cries escaping your mouth. But Peter didn’t falter, pulling you even closer. Your fingers were tangled in his sweater and his were pressed firmly against the small of your back and the base of your neck. He made no effort to shush you or tell you it would be all right; he knew it wasn’t what you needed at that moment.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered instead. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You stayed that way for a while, but then a thought popped into your head that made you jolt out of Peter’s hold on you with wide eyes.

“Peter, your internship! Your actual internship! You have to be so late! I’m so-“

Peter reached out and tenderly wiped your cheeks that were wet with your tears. His thumb moved slowly across your skin, gently caressing it. The action combined with the softness in his eyes made your speech falter. It took a few blinks and a hard swallow to get your mind to think coherently again.

“Peter,” you said, your voice cracking. There was something else in his eyes that made some place deep inside of you come to life. It unsettled you, but not necessarily in a bad way. “The internship…”

Peter hardly seemed to be paying attention to your words, but he must have registered them enough to come up with a response. “It’s okay. I already texted Tony earlier and told him I wasn’t going to make it in because something had come up.”

You frowned a little. “You’re not in trouble, are you? Because if you are-“

“No,” he said, chuckling softly. He let his hand fall from your cheek finally, and even though you had just been so terribly hurt by your now ex-boyfriend, you missed Peter’s touch. “Well,” he corrected, “I’m not in trouble on the condition I tell him everything when I’m there next.”

“Wait,” you said, taking the slightest step back. “Are you serious? Tony Stark actually said that?”

Peter grinned, laughing a little. “I'm telling you, he’s the biggest gossip I know. He always has his nose in places where it doesn’t belong.”

You shook your head, Peter’s smile infectious. You couldn’t help but be amused at this new bit of knowledge. You’d always imagined gossips to exclusively be old ladies and teenagers who had nothing else better to do. Throwing Tony Stark—a literal superhero and billionaire—into that same mix seemed out of place in more ways than one.

“How about you get changed into your PJ’s and I’ll turn on a movie and break out the ice cream?” Peter said, getting a bigger smile out of you.

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, reaching out to squeeze his hand before traipsing back to your bedroom.

By the time you were dressed and back out in the living room, Peter had managed to get everything ready. Ice cream was sitting on the coffee table by the pint, spoons sticking out of the tops. Star Wars was on, although you weren’t sure which one since it was paused. He’d somehow already made an intricate fort out of the space, but a quick glance around showed it was most likely due to the webbing holding the blankets to the walls.

Peter turned around and grinned as if it was just a normal movie night, offering you a pint of your favorite ice cream. “We haven’t done this in awhile.”

Guilt flooded through you at his comment, even though you knew it wasn’t his intention. Brad was the reason you hadn’t had a movie night alone with Peter in so long; he never liked it that Peter was your best friend, and you were stupid enough to let him take so much of that time from you both. But instead of letting on what you were feeling, you gave a small smile back and took the ice cream from Peter’s hands.

“No, we haven’t,” you replied, ducking under the entrance to the fort so you could make your way beside him. He had pillows set up inside as well, which you used to prop yourself up. You wanted to tell him thank you—not just for the ice cream, movie, and fort, but also for his help with the whole Brad situation earlier—but before you could come up with the words Peter raised the remote and pushed play.

You tried to pay attention, you really did, but the thought of Brad still hung in the forefront of your mind. Sometimes it was easy to forget, like when Peter finished his own ice cream and wrapped an arm around you in silent comfort. But in the end, the ice cream could only numb so much.

Tears filled your eyes but you desperately tried to fight them off with another mouthful of ice cream and a renewed focus on the movie. You’d seen it probably twenty times with Peter and knew pretty much every line, but now you could hardly make out a single word and everything on screen seemed to blur together into one singular color.

Peter was quick to notice your newfound tears and didn’t even bother to pause the movie before reaching to wrap his other arm around you too. You shook your head and shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth and mumbled, “I’m fine, really,” but it was an obvious lie even to your ears.

Peter took the pint from your hands and put it back on the coffee table, and you didn’t fight it this time when he went to hug you again. You let yourself be tugged practically into his lap and let your head fall onto his shoulder. He quietly shushed you as you truly felt Brad’s betrayal for the first time.

“It’s so stupid,” you cried, your voice muffled by his sweatshirt. “I didn’t even love him and I’m crying over him again. The boy who’s been cheating on me for who knows how long or with how many other girls.”

Peter raised a hand to your hair and combed his fingers gently through the knots. “It’s not stupid at all. Regardless of whether or not you loved him, you trusted him and he broke that trust. That hurts just as much as a broken heart.”

You didn’t say anything, but you slowly untucked your arms from their place against his chest to wrap around his back. You clutched the fabric of his sweatshirt between your fingers just to hold onto something real and soft and warm—to ground yourself to one of the only people in your life who you know would never break your trust or your heart.

Your tears started to subside but neither Peter’s nor your hold loosened. “You deserve better, Y/N,” Peter murmured, his voice vibrating in his throat.

“Thanks, Pete,” you whispered. With a watery, humorless laugh you added, “I just wish I listened to MJ.”

You could feel Peter smile and simply waited for whatever he was going to say to lighten up the mood. “Yeah, now you’ve gotta apologize to her and tell her she was right. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes solely for that reason. She’s terrifying.”

A genuine laugh escaped you and you lifted your head from his shoulder. “I’m also pretty sure she’s still mad at me, so I’ve gotta deal with that too.”

You went to wipe off your cheeks but Peter beat you to it, his thumb gently wiping away any traces of your tears. His beautiful brown eyes made contact with yours, and the atmosphere shifted. Your heart jumped and you couldn’t look away from the boy you called your best friend, and suddenly you were made aware of how close you were.

Peter’s hand still rested on your cheek. His eyes parted from yours for just a moment as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his tongue wetting his lips the way he did whenever he was nervous.

You were still looking at him when his eyes met yours again, and he sighed and frowned. “Y/N, you can feel free to slap me or kick me out or never speak to me again, because I know this is the worst possible time that I could ever tell you this, but…” He took a deep breath. Your mouth was dry. “I like you. I have for a long time but I was too afraid to do anything about it, then Brad asked you out and you were so happy about it I couldn’t say anything to ruin it and-“

He cut himself off and broke eye contact with you, pulling himself out of your reach. His head heavily fell into his hands as he shook it and mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch. The next part, however, you did.

“I’m so stupid, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“You like me?” you interrupted, not being able to help the slight hope that bled into your tone.

Peter turned his head just enough to peek at you out the corners of his eyes. You were alarmed to see the beginnings of tears in them, so you scooted closer and ducked your chin slightly to meet his gaze more head on.

“I…” He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Like, like me, like me?” you repeated.

“Yeah...I-I like you, like you.”

You paused for just a moment, the words spilling out of your mouth before you could think them through completely. “Not that it’s your fault that Brad is a pig, but I really wish you would’ve asked me out before him.”

Peter blinked a few times, trying to process what you’d just said to him. “Wait—what?” he said, eyes blown up wide. “Wait, wait, wait, you liked me?”

You ran a hand over your face and flopped back onto your pile of pillows. “Yes, I liked you, you twerp! I don’t think I could’ve made it any more obvious than I did. I mean-“ You gave him an exasperated look. “Peter, I asked you to prom.”

“I didn’t know!”

“How did you not know?”

Peter threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know, I just thought we were doing a double date thing with you and me and MJ and Ned!”

“No, you dork!” you exclaimed, swinging a pillow his way. He didn’t even try to dodge it. “Ned and MJ only went together after that because you brought up the double-date-friend thing at lunch the next day!”

Peter’s eyes comically widened at what you were insinuating. “You thought I said yes to going out with you!”

“Of course I did!” you said. “We all did! But after it was obvious that you thought I’d asked as a friend, I just thought you didn’t like me that way and I’d misread you!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were asking me out out?!” Peter sputtered, shocked by that turn of events.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “I don’t know, maybe because I literally asked you out?”

“But you never specifically said you were asking me as more than friends!”

“I thought I’d made it pretty clear with the poster!”

“Well, it didn’t exactly say ‘Hey, Peter! I know we’ve been friends for years but do you wanna go to prom with me as more than that?’”

“I didn’t think it had to! People don’t make posters just to ask their friends to prom!” you pointed out. “Besides, I spent time on it! If I was asking you just as a friend—first off I wouldn’t have made a poster at all, but if I did—I wouldn’t have stayed up all night making it!”

“You stayed up all night making a poster for me?” Peter questioned, somehow much closer to you than before. You faltered in your retort, staring at your best friend who was mere inches from you. You could feel his breath as he exhaled, big doe eyes waiting for your response.

“Yeah,” you eventually responded in a whisper. “I had to start over, like, four times.”

Peter’s eyes flicked down for just a second, and it took you a moment to realize where he’d just looked. Your lips.

“You don’t have to try so hard for me,” Peter whispered back. The atmosphere was changed again, the air thick and time slowed. Not even the noise of the city could be heard.

You swallowed, trying to squash your nerves. “That’s not entirely true since you didn’t end up getting the hint.”

Peter started to say something back but you didn’t hear, your eyes now having gazed downward to look at his lips too. They stopped moving when he realized you weren’t listening and waited a few seconds before they parted around your name.

“Y/N?”

You looked up again, blushing at having been caught. His eyes searched yours, looking for something.

You didn’t know who made the first move, only that you were kissing Peter after what felt like decades of only dreaming about it. His lips were soft against yours, gently pressing them apart to make room for his own. Your noses brushed as your heads tilted to fit together like a puzzle you had both done a thousand times. It felt so familiar, so easy, and so…right.

You lifted a hand to cup his cheek, not wanting him to move. He followed your lead, tangling one of his hands into the hair at the base of your neck to hold you in place.

You didn’t know how long it lasted or what was happening outside of Peter’s touch, but you did know that when his lips finally parted from yours it was too soon.

And then reality hit. It didn’t hurt like you thought it would, but there was still the matter of Brad and the mess he made that you had to clean up. So when you opened your eyes to meet Peter’s softened gaze, you knew exactly what to say.

“I really, really would like to give whatever”—You gestured between you—“this is a try, but…is it okay if I take just a little bit of time first? I-I want to continue this, I really do, but I still have to work things out with MJ and deal with all the texts I’m bound to be getting, and I don’t think I’m quite ready to walk into school Monday holding your hand.” Realizing how that sounded, you were quick to backtrack. “Not that I’m ashamed of you or anything! I just want Brad to get what he deserves and I don’t want people to think I was the one cheating or that would defeat the whole purpose—not that it even should matter what other people think because I know my friends believe me and have got my back but-“

Peter covered your mouth with his hand to stop you, a faint smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “I know what you mean, Y/N. It’s okay.”

He slowly removed his hand to let you speak again, hopefully without trying (and failing) to explain yourself to him this time. You took a deep breath and studied him carefully to make sure he wasn’t lying for your benefit. “You’re sure?”

He kissed your forehead. “Take as much time as you want,” he assured you. “I’ve waited for you for this long, I don’t mind waiting a little longer. We can go as slow as you need. I won’t do anything you’re not ready for, Y/N/N.”

You had to bite back tears at his sentiment, already having done more for you in ten seconds than Brad had in six months. A soft breath of relief escaped you when you realized there wasn’t a drop of doubt in Peter’s voice—that he truly meant everything he was saying.

“Thank you,” you said softly, still looking into his eyes. He smiled in response which made you smile too. You hesitated but leaned forward to kiss his cheek anyway. You pretended not to notice either of your blushes that followed and sat yourself back on top of your pillows.

The movie was still playing, so you pretended to turn your attention back to it. Really, it was impossible to do such a thing after kissing your best friend, so you were well aware of when Peter was staring at you instead of the TV and when his fingers subtly raised to touch his lips. You could just barely feel the ghost of his lips on yours still, making you smile from the memory. Peter’s hands were twitching, as if he wasn’t sure what to do in this new territory.

Deciding to put the both of you out of your misery, you started to lean toward him. The gap between you closed as your side rested against his. He looked down at you in surprise, but you were focused on the screen in front of you. You could still sense the smile that followed as his arm found a place on your waist and tucked you further into him. His scent filled your senses and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at this new feeling.

Brad’s hands never felt warm like Peter’s, or even half as secure—not even on his best days. But in that moment, without anything in your life left even remotely unshaken, you felt the safest and the most secure you ever had.

Permanent Tag: @starsholland @spideygirl2003 @dahliaspidey

Peter Parker: @captainstartights @quaksonhehe

If you don’t see yourself on here when you were before, it’s because I recently scrapped my entire tag list and started over:) You can join my taglist here!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker au #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #marvel #mcu

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angelixxsstuff · 3 years ago

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Irondad & Spiderson Fic Masterlist Pt 2 🕸🕷🖤

5 Things That Change for Peter After The End of The World by ironspider

and one thing that always remains the same. The specific one I love to read is the one where Peter and MJ prank Tony, funniest shit ever. Lol ♥️

A River To Skate Away On by frostysunflowers

Peter has survived a spider bite, a building falling on him, turning to dust and being a teenager. He can handle anything. Except being forgotten.

Perfectly Parental by Bergan

Peter saves a little bit from drowning, and in the rush of it all, causes a little misunderstanding.

With Kind Regards and A Completely Serious Warning by Jennylarner

When shots are fired at Midtown Tech during the school's fortnightly assembly, Peter knows (or, is reminded by Ned) who he needs to call. Leading to everyone finding out just what Tony and Peter's relationship really looks like.

Downfall by ardett

Peter is being abused. Tony finds out in the worst way possible.

5 Times Peter Parker Pretended To Be Asleep by blondsak

Hearts Are Empty by Jwc

Peter is injected with Tetrodotoxin B.

Somebody Catch Him by wordscorrupt

Peter’s falling, and Tony has to catch him before it’s too late.

Infinite by wanttoread234

After being kidnapped Tony Stark is given the choice between saving Morgan or saving Peter. It's not hard to guess what option Peter encouraged.

A True Hero by stereks_fifth_nipple

Peter gets Tony something for Father's Day. Tony got him something as well... Sort of.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

Did We Come Close To Having It All by forthenight

“What’s wrong, Mr Stark? What does it say?”

Tony didn’t respond. He didn’t even twitch. He just stared at the screen in front of him. There was no ransom note under the photo. No ploy or negotiation, it simply stated ‘Pepper’s life for Spider-Man’s.’

All Good Things Fall Apart by forthenight

"I have something of yours"

It took those five words to flip Tony's world upside down, but when he finds Morgan safe at school maybe all isn't as lost as he thought. Maybe.

More Than Okay by Icylightning

Peter cleared his throat "Mr Stark I..."

Tony raised a warning finger "Not. A. Word. Kid"

Peter sealed his lips lightly. Steve noticed this and wrapped an arm around the boy and frowned at his friend "Tony you're scaring him" he said protectively

"Good!"

Bullet Holes In My Spiderman by wolfpuppypiles

Tony shoots Peter, that’s it.

Every Fifteen Minutes by amatterofloyalty

Peter Parker was in a car crash—except... he wasn’t. One forgetful Spider-Kid, one sleepy best friend, and one misleading post on social media all lead to a disastrous turn of events, culminating in the arrival of an unexpected guest at Midtown High.

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racefortheironthrone · 3 years ago

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Any thoughts on No Way Home?

So my overall take is that this is quite a good Spider-Man movie, arguably the Spider-Maniest Spider-Man movie since Into the Spiderverse.

More specific thoughts below the cut.

So my main thought about No Way Home is that what works best about it - the reunion of supervillains and superheroes from past Spider-Man franchises, the adaptation of Uncle Ben's "with great power there must also come great responsibility" dying words to Marisa Tomei - is like an amazing magic trick that works only once.

Both as spectacle and as moments of heightened emotion, these things were so couched in suprise and shock that they can't really be replicated in future Spider-Man movies. Leaving aside the fact that characters who have been killed off can't easily be brought back, I don't think there's a way to go bigger when it comes to bringing back old favorites, given how deep the bench was on this one particular film.

I don't think that's a bad thing at all. Ironically for a movie about retconning the big status quo change from the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home, this film has rather emphatically moved Peter Parker into a new status quo. Peter has been forced to flee his old apartment in Queens for a new place in Manhattan; his supporting cast (Aunt May, Happy, Ned, MJ, the folks from Midtown Science and Tech) are either dead, have gone to MIT without him, or no longer remember who he is. I would be very much surprised if future movies didn't revolve around Peter attending Empire State University while supporting himself as a photojournalist with a whole new crew of supporting characters (the Daily Bugle crew would be a natural place to pivot to).

I also think the movie did a great job with the Marvel of it all, letting Doctor Strange be a supporting character (and giving Daredevil a nice little cameo) without overwhelming the movie. Then again, I didn't have as much of a problem with the Iron Man stuff from Homecoming as other people did (although I had more of a problem with it in Far From Home), so I might not be the best weathervane for that particular issue.

#marvel #marvel meta #spiderman #no way home #spoilers

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

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Where We Start Again - 4

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: how do you fake date someone you have real feelings for?

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

Playlist by @tiny-friggin-human

“Wasn’t lunch crazy today?” Your friend Naomi giggled shortly as she leaned against the locker next to yours. You made a face as you finished putting your books away and hoped she didn’t catch it.

“I wasn’t there. I haven’t sat with you guys since Monday.” You told her, a little offended that she didn’t notice you were gone.

“Really? Huh, I didn’t realize.” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Anyways, Colin and Henderson were flipping water bottles without the caps on and it was the funniest thing. Until Colin got Abby’s hair wet and she told him his girlfriend was cheating on him with Henderson. It was so funny.”

“Sorry I missed it. Is Colin okay?” You asked her and she snorted.

“Who cares?” She replied and you figured you should have seen that answer coming. “Anyway, are you coming tonight?”

“Tonight?” You shut your locker and turned to her.

“Fallons party. He just texted it in the group chat.” Naomi explained and you briefly thought back to the groupchat you never checked. “And I heard from Effie who heard from Lacey that he specifically asked if you were going to be there. He totally wants you.”

“I can’t tonight. I have plans.” You gave her a falsely sympathetic smile and hoped she’d drop the subject.

“What could possibly be more important than Fallon’s party?” She asked like the thought was impossible. “He said he got like, six cases of White Claw and his parents are away. You have to be there.”

“Sounds like fun.” You lied. “Sorry I have to miss it.”

“But Y/n!” She whined and you sucked in a breath. “There’s no laws when you’re drinking Claws. You have to come.”

“I have the science fair and then I have plans with Peter and Ned. I told you yesterday, remember?” You asked her but her face showed no sign of recollection. From the other side of the hallway, Peters ears perked up from the other side of the hallway at the mention of his name. He used his advanced hearing to listen to your conversation after hearing the tension in your voice.

“Who’s Peter Annid?” Naomi scoffed and you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming.

“Peter and Ned.” You corrected her sharply. “Peter Parker and Ned…I don’t actually know his last name. But I’m hanging out with them.”

“Omg, ew why?” Her nose scrunched you in disgust. Peters face fell upon hearing this, reminding him that you and him lived in different worlds. You looked at her for a moment before deciding what to say next.

“Because I’m dating Peter and friends with Ned. Ned Leeds.” You stared firmly as you remembered his last name.

“You’re actually dating that guy?” Naomi grimaced. “I thought that was just a mean rumor Flash started.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and laughed in disbelief. You made eye contact with Peter from across the hall and he gave you a sympathetic shrug.

“It’s not a rumor.” You snapped. “Peter makes me really happy. And I have to be at the science fair to see him win.”

Peter smiled to himself at your words and started walking over to you.

“Y/n, people like us can’t be seen with people like them. We definitely can’t be cheering them on at the nerd fair with all the other nerds. What if someone sees you?” She looked genuinely worried for you and your jaw clenched in frustration.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked as he came behind you. He put his hands on your shoulders and rubbed your arms to calm you down, immediately feeling the tension leaving your body. You leaned your back into Peters chest and looked at Naomi.

“Then they’re gonna see a supportive girlfriend cheering on her genius boyfriend. Enjoy the party, Naomi.” You smiled at her and took Peters hand. “Let’s go, baby.”

You walked down the hall together, away from Naomi’s dropped jaw. Peter couldn’t wipe the smile off his face from you standing up for him.

“What was the about?” Peter asked you once you were far enough away from her.

“Nothing.” You answered. “Conversations with her are never about anything.”

“Are you okay?” Peter could hear the annoyance in your voice lingering from your conversation with Naomi and wanted to help you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” You stopped walking and turned to Peter, still holding his hand. “Don’t worry about me. You need to focus on your acceptance speech when you win the science fair today.”

“You don’t get to make an acceptance speech. You get a sweaty handshake and a firm, passionate pat on the back from the principal.” He told you and you laughed happily.

“That’s kinda hot. Are you cheating on me with Principle Mendoza?” You teased him.

“I’m sorry. I have a thing for spider veins and your legs are too perfect.” He played along, making you look down at your legs shyly.

“I hate you.” You shook your head and continued to walk to class. “I’m gonna fake break up with you just for saying that.”

“But I cant fake live without you, baby girl. Can you give me another fake chance?.” He pouted. You giggled and wrapped your arms around Peter, pulling him into an unexpected but welcomed hug.

“I’ll give you a million fake chances, baby.” You mumbled into his ear before pulling away. “But I’m about to be late for real math. I’ll see you at the science fair.”

“Okay. I’ll see you there.” Peter smiled in content as you squeezed his hand and walked away. It had been five days of fake dating. That meant there was only more week to go. As much as Peter loved the time you spent together, he couldn’t the shake the fact that it was ending soon. The moments he had with you felt real, but that didn’t change the fact that they were rooted in a lie. Still, you had chosen to blow off a party to come to the science fair with him. That had to mean something.

It meant something to him, at least.

“Look at you with your informational poster.” You smiled fondly at Peter as you walked up to his table. The LEGO lamp you had glued together sat in front of a poster about the science behind solar power. Peters eyes lit up at the sight of you and he stepped aside so you could get a full view of his presentation.

“Thanks for coming, daisy.” He grinned and pulled you into an embrace. You were surprised with him taking the initiative to show affection, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“I’ve been walking around and you definitely have these people beat.” You said as you squeezed his arm for good luck. “One kid just had a baby carrot taped to a battery.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t actually go to this school.” Peter told you. “They tried to kick him out but he started barking so they let him stay.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the judges have made their final decisions for the winners of Midtown Techs 75th annual science fair.” A teachers monotone voice came through on a microphone. Ned joined you guys with a box of popcorn, holding it out to you to offer you some. You and Ned stood on opposite sides of Peter as you impatiently waited the heat the winners.

“Let’s go, baby. This is all you. All you, baby, all you.” You mumbled just loud enough for Peter to hear. He chuckled and looked at you from over his shoulder.

“I am so scared of her right now.” Ned whispered to Peter.

“I know.” He whispered back. “I am so turned on.”

“In third place, Madison McDermott.” The teacher announced. Scattered claps sounded from the crowd.

“Madison has nothing on you, baby. Nothing!” You said into Peters ear as you bounced up and down.

“Second place, Chirag Saini.” The teacher said, earning more claps.

“Chirag wishes he was you right now baby, he just wishes.” You hyped him up and rubbed his shoulders.

“And in first place, Peter Parker.”

“AHHHH!” You screamed, wrapped one arm around Peters neck and pointed to him with the other. “That’s my boyfriend! That’s my boyfriend!”

Peter laughed happily and hugged you back, more excited to be holding you than to win the science fair. You buried your face in his neck and squeezed him tightly before running away to collect his trophy.

“She seems excited.” Ned commented with a knowing smirk.

“I have never felt this loved.” Peter squeezed Neds arm in excitement as he watched you bounce around.

“MY BOYFRIEND WON THE SCIENCE FAIR. FUCK YOU CHIRAG - I don’t mean that though your model of the universe is gorgeous- BUT YEAH PETER.” You ran back to Peter and threw your arms around him again as he lifted you off the ground.

“Remember, all I get is a sweaty handshake and a pat on the back. It’s not that big of a deal.” He tried to tell you but you didn’t listen.

“This is the hugest deal!” You grabbed his face and shook it. “You won the science fair four years in a row. And you did it after everything you’ve been through. I’m so proud of you.” You said sincerely and Peters heart melted.

“Meet me outside in five minutes.” He said as he rested his hands on your waist. “I have to show you something.”

“Okay. What’s-“

“Mr. Parker, you’re needed for a photo.” Principle Mendoza called for Peter.

“Go take your picture. I’ll see you outside.” You assured him. Peter kissed your forehead before he lost the nerve and went to get his picture taken.

As the camera flashed, Peters eyes drifted to you. You had your hands clasped together and a proud smile on your face as you bounced on your heels. It almost made Peter emotional to realize he had never been looked at that fondly. In the moment, he knew the truth.

He loved you.

He had developed real feelings for his fake girlfriend.

After waiting the allotted five minutes, you went outside to see what Peter had to show you. You walked slowly, taking the time to think about the past week with Peter. Even you didn’t know why you were so happy that he had won. Something about getting to know him gave you a newfound need to see him happy. As much as you liked spending time with him, you regretted getting attached. You only had a week left of your fake relationship and once it was over, you’d be left crushing on a guy who only saw you as a way to get Flash off his back.

You rounded the corner and saw Peter standing in the courtyard holding a bouquet of daisies.

“What’s this?” You asked curiously and he gave you a bashful smile.

“Will you go to the dance with me?” He asked as he held out the bouquet. You stepped towards him and accepted the bouquet with a confused leer.

“What?” You chuckled shyly.

“I know were already going together but you still deserved a proposal.” Peter explained. “You Flash this is how I asked you and I know you like daisies and I-“

“I would love to go to the dance with you.” You cut him off and sniffed the bouquet.

“We love to see it.” Peter used your own words and made you laugh.

“You are such an idiot.” You shook your head. “Can we go get that sandwich now?”

“Hola.” Ned bellowed as the three of you entered Delmar’s sandwich shop. “Do you know what today is?”

“Oh no.” Delmar gulped at the sight of Peter and Ned.

“Peter won the science fair!” You held up Peters trophy and screamed. Ned started pumping his fist and grunting while Peter hid his face behind his hand.

“Por favor, don’t make me make this sandwich.” Delmar pleaded. “It hurts me as a chef.”

“We’ll take one sandwich which every ingredient please.” Ned ordered and Delmar shuddered.

“Can we get it on whole grain bread?” You asked the boys and Ned gagged.

“Sure. Anything for my girl.” Peter touched your chin fondly. Delmar noticed the display of affection and folded his arms.

“Su novia?” He asked Peter, who looked at you in confusion.

“I’m sorry?” Peter stammered.

“Sí. Muchas gracias.” You smiled politely at Delmar as you dropped a five dollar bill in the tip jar. Delmar smirked at you and held up his hands in defense.

“Fine. I’m make it.” He agreed. “But only because I’m happy for you, niño.”

“His name is Peter.” Ned deadpanned.

“It means kid.” You told them. “You’ve been in my spanish class all four years, Ned.”

“I know.” Ned sighed dreamily. “I love that class.”

“Hey. Quit staring at my girlfriend.” Peter snapped his fingers until Ned stopped gaping at you. You smiled proudly at Peter calling you his girlfriend and wrapped your arms around his torso.

“She’s your fake girlfriend.” Ned reminded him. “Why do you care?”

“Because she’s right here. And she can hear you.” You said sarcastically as Peter wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Here. I made your disgusting sandwich.” Delmar slammed the sandwich on the counter angrily and Ned paid him.

“Grassy ass. Me gusta el sandwich.” Ned took the sandwich and bowed.

“Get out of my store.” Delmar ordered. You and Peter stayed in each other’s embrace and you left the store.

“We usually eat it on the rooftop of my apartment building.” Peter told you as he squeezed your shoulder.

“Let’s go. I’m hungry and it almost smells edible.” You quipped.

Ned watched curiously as you and Peter walked in front of him to Peters apartment. From his perspective, you looked like an actual couple. And with Flash nowhere around to see you faking, he wondered what you were doing it for.

As he heard you laugh loudly at a joke Peter said that couldn’t possibly be as funny as you made it seem, he realized something.

You liked Peter.

“Haha, just kidding”, he thought, “…unless.”

You got to Peters apartment and rode the elevator to the rooftop. Peter laid one of the towels down so you all had a place to sit. You took a seat next to Peter and put your feet in his lap.

“Y/n should have the first bite since it’s her first time.” Ned declared as he unwrapped the sandwich.

“You are going to love this.” Peter grinned as he handed you the sandwich. “Here.”

You took a bite and chewed it slowly. You could taste the mustard, salami, and peanut butter with the first bite. Your face twisted in disgust as you painfully swallowed the sandwich.

“So what do you think?” Ned nudged you.

“I think that’s the grossest thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” You whispered hoarsely.

“Well you haven’t been dating Peter for that long so-“ Ned began until Peter smacked him.

“Ned!” He scolded and Ned retreated.

“It’s making my eyes waters. Are my ears supposed to be ringing?” You looked at them for answers.

“That would be the jalapeños.” Ned nodded in approval.

“Here. I can’t have this near me. It’s making me hate myself.” You handed it off. Peter took the sandwich and took a bite, wincing as it went down before passing it to Ned.

“This was the last science fair. That technically means this is our last sandwich.” Ned said after he swallowed. Peter realized he was right and felt a sadness settle into his tummy. You noticed Peters face and interlocked your hands.

“It doesn’t have to be.” You piped up. “We could come back and do this every year. On this exact date.”

Peter stopped sulking when he heard your suggestion. You were already planning ahead for your future. And by some miracle, it included Peter.

“I like that idea.” He told you. “I’m not planning on leaving New York. Mr. Stark said I could work for him during and after college so I’ll be around. Where will you be?”

“I’m not sure.” You answered. “Anywhere but here, hopefully. I want to go somewhere where not one person knows me. I just don’t know where that is yet.”

“Well what about that Harvard application on your kitchen table, says your friendly neighborhood stalker?” Peter quipped.

“I don’t know, it’s a long shot.” You shrugged it off. “I probably won’t even apply.”

“I think you should.” Peter encouraged. “They’d be lucky to have you.”

“Maybe.” You smiled softly at him.

“Guys, what does GYHAHN mean? My mom just texted that.” Ned asked in a panic as he looked up from his phone.

“No idea.” Peter shook his head as he rubbed soft circles into your hand with his thumb.

“Get your Hawaiian ass home now.” You translated and got puzzled looks from Ned and Peter. “What? I speak angry mom.”

“How’d you know she meant Hawaiian?” Peter wondered.

“I took an educated guess.” You replied. “Why does she need you home?”

“YGFL?” He read the follow up text out loud.

“You’re grounded for life. Here.” You handed him one of the daises from your bouquet. “Give her this and tell her you were helping Peter carry his giant science fair trophy home.” And tell her you appreciate her waiting.”

“Okay. Me appreciate.” Ned nodded. His face faltered when he realized what he said. “Why does this always happen? Bye guys. And congratulations Peter.”

Ned picked up his bag and did an elaborate handshake with Peter before leaving. You fell into a comfortable silence with Peter following Neds absence.

“I hope you don’t mind that I spared a daisy.” You said as you scooted closer to Peter.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “Thanks for helping him. I promise he’s cool when he uses full sentences.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” You chuckled. “I still like hanging out with you guys. Even if you made me eat that sandwich.”

“Hey, you wanted to come.” He reminded you when you insulted the sandwich. You smiled softly and looked down at your intertwined hands. “Are you really not going to apply to Harvard?”

“I mean, yeah it’s my dream but what if that’s all it is? Just a dream that isn’t supposed to come true.” You shook your head. “As long as I can start over somewhere, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well I hope you change your mind an apply.” Peter told you.

“Peter?” You said after a beat of silence.

“Yes?”

“Today was the most fun I’ve ever had in high school.” You told him honestly. A grin broke out on his face when he realized the same could be said for him.

“I thought you were a party girl. Are the popular kids really that bad?” He teased you. He thought it would make you laugh, but it caused a sad expression to cloud your face.

“Do you want the truth?” You asked quietly.

“You can tell me.” He leaned forward when he saw how vulnerable you looked.

“It’s like they’re not even people. They’re all just a collage of different personas they put on so people like them. And they need people to like them. It’s like an addiction. And yeah, people like me but, but what if I don’t like me?” Your voice broke as you looked to Peter for answers he didn’t have. “What if they’re following around a leader who isn’t all that great?”

“It doesn’t have to be such a bad thing. They follow you because they like you.” He tried to make you feel better but you shook your head.

“They don’t even know me.” You said in exasperation. “I haven’t been myself for one second in that building. I was too busy trying to please everyone. And for what? Once high school is over and we all get out of here, what will it have been for?”

“I don’t think people are thinking that far ahead. I think they just want to be the center of attention in a given moment.” Peter reasoned.

“But that’s not what I want. I want weird, kinda unsanitary traditions with friends and people to talk to when I’m sad.” You laughed sadly. “I want people who notice when I’m missing. I want- I want…”

“What?” He asked.

“I want to be loved.” You confessed. “You and Ned love each other so much. Any idiot can see that. No one loves me like that.”

“But you have all those friends.” He wondered.

“I have followers.” You corrected him. “I don’t have any friends.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you have two and a half friends.” Peter tilted your chin up so you had to look at him and your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Half?”

“Ned isn’t a full person yet but he’s so close.” Peter explained and you laughed spritely.

“This is why I can’t wait for college.” You sighed. “I can start over and finally be myself.”

“At Harvard?” He smirked.

“I would never get into Harvard.” You laughed softly.

Peter let go of your face, content that he had made you smile until he remembered something you had said.

“What did you mean before when you said you didn’t like you?” He asked and your smiled faded. You took your hand out of his and picked at your nail polish nervously.

“I know you think it’s hard to be you, but it’s hard to be me too. I wake up every day terrified that people are gonna realize I’m nothing special.” You looked up at him with watery eyes. “Everyone wants something from me and they don’t even know why. And I’m scared that once they really think about it, they’ll realize I’m not good enough. That I’m a fraud. I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“You can breathe with me. It’s okay, daisy.” He pulled you into hug and rubbed your back as you nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s so much pressure. They want me to be this perfect, happy girl but I’m not.” You sniffled. “It’s so hard to look at yourself and not be able to find anything you like. I threw myself into planning the dance but when the planning was done I was left empty. I thought I was going to lose my mind and then…”

“What?” He pulled away a little to look at you.

“I saw Flash picking on you in the hallway.” You smiled. “And I made a split second decision to pretend to be your girlfriend.”

“I knew you didn’t think it through.” He chuckled as you confirmed his suspicion.

“Maybe not, but,” you shrugged, “four years of high school and I finally found someone I actively want to be around. I wish I started pretending to be your girlfriend freshman year. I would’ve been so much happier if I had.”

“Let’s go to that party tonight.” He said suddenly. “The one that girl was talking about. You seem like you need a party.”

“We don’t have to. I know you’re not really a party person.” You scrunched your nose.

“Well I can’t know I’m not a party person until I actually go to a party.” Peter pointed out. You pulled away from Peter and took both his hands in hours.

“Peter Parker, would you be my date to the party?” You proposed.

“Daisy, I’d be honored.”

Tag List 🏷

@a-villain-vying-for-attention @wendaiii @dorbiksbitch @t-monosapiens-h @badhollandfluff @silteplaittais-toi @thisisthebiplace @seasidecrowbar @spideygirl2003 @5-seconds-of-mendes @bitchylittleredhead @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @everydaymj @write-from-the-heart @blackpetalsmeandeath @electraheart-3174 @shawni-h @peterparkoure @sleepythighsweat @steebbb @traveleraroundsworld @averyfosterthoughts @bralessandflawless @viwihere @eridanuswave @the-greatt-perhaps @spidey-lillies

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x popular!reader #peter parker fake dating #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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thepatricktreestump · 4 years ago

Text

whatever you say - peter parker imagine

A/N: I don’t normally write nsfw spidey things but my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing so please do forgive me… not any actual smut, just lots of flirting and implications of sexual favors

It was strange, but for some reason, you found complete comfort in the simplicity that was Peter Parker. He lived in a small apartment with his Aunt May in Forest Hills, went to Midtown High, and at first glance, seemed like your typical teenage boy. May worked as an ER nurse and Peter kept up on his studies, proving to be a straight A student who succeeded not only in school, but in extracurriculars and academic teams as well. He liked science and math, he was really good at building robots, and he thoroughly enjoyed memorizing equations. When he wasn’t acing his tests, he spent his free time building LEGOs and watching Star Wars in his apartment or walking through town and debating between eating pizza or sub sandwiches. He had a messy bedroom cluttered with dirty laundry, an assortment of different computer parts, and countless science textbooks and academic journals. Three months ago, when you first started dating Peter Parker, this is the boy you thought you knew.

Your life, however, felt like the complete opposite. Being the daughter of Tony Stark, your day to day was far from simple. You lived in Stark Tower with Tony, cooped up on a floor with everything you could ever want or need, a master bedroom with a flat screen television, personal jacuzzi, walk in closet, arcade- you name it, Tony had it. School proved to be a breeze, and you had your MIT valedictorian of a father to thank for that, leaving you plenty of time for your own sort of extracurriculars. Rather than hang out at school and build lousy robots with Peter Parker, you’d much rather go to the lab and work on some high tech AI coding, super suit dynamics, or machine prototypes with your dad and the other avengers. He often urged you not to get too involved for your own safety, but you found yourself growing close with Bruce and Sam, bonding over your shared love for innovation. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take after your father.

However, months passed, and the more time you spent with Peter Parker, the more you caught onto the fact that his life might not have been as normal as you initially thought it was. He kept disappearing randomly, ghosting you on planned dates, or not showing up at school. At first you thought he was just nervous, or maybe he didn’t really like you, but upon further investigation, it was evident. His life was just as crazy as yours. Although you thought it was weird that he never bothered telling you he was Spider-Man, and even weirder he didn’t inform you that he previously knew your dad, you almost liked the fact that you could share your secret world of superhero knowledge with him. You found yourselves relating to each other by joking about Steve’s old fashioned manners or Natasha’s resting bitch face. Although, other times also through confiding secret fears or discussing worst possible outcomes.

Tonight was one of the latter, you and Peter talking on the phone despite the time reading two in the morning, him trying to ease your anxiety. “It’s just been a couple days and Tony’s still not back yet…” you sighed, shrouded by your blankets, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the dark room. “He’s with Sam and he’s probably going to be just fine, but I’m still scared. And I know, I know. I’m not supposed have knowledge about those affiliated with the mission or his location, but sometimes I just can’t help but worry.”

“It must be hard,” Peter hummed in sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. May feels the same way about me.”

You paused for a moment. “I know it’s a horrible thing to think, and I’m probably just psyching myself out but-” your voice caught, shaking your head, closing your eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what if one day he just doesn’t come back.”

“Hey,” Peter hushed. “Try not to think about that, okay? He’s Iron Man, y/n, he’s fought alien monsters and literal gods, he should be just fine. Mr. Stark never goes down without a fight, he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

“I just can’t sleep not knowing,” you confessed, feeling sorry for dragging Peter into your own personal troubles. “I don’t know, I’m sorry… I’m probably keeping you up, and you have a calc test tomorrow-”

“No, no, don’t apologize, you’re okay,” your sweet boyfriend insisted. He paused, listening to your heavy breathing. “Do you want me to come over?”

“W-what?” you asked, confused.

“I know it’s late but if it would make you feel better, I can come over,” Peter offered. “I’ll just come to your window and you can let me in that way. I can keep you company, you can talk to me, or we can watch a movie to get your mind off things, I don’t know. Only if you want to.”

“You’d do that for me?” you wondered, growing soft at his words.

“I just don’t want you to be sad,” he explained. “And I know it’s hard with your dad being gone and all, and sure Pepper’s there, but I know you’ve never really been that close with her, and I just- I don’t know. I feel like you’re lonely, and I want to help.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you gave a soft smile. “I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t fight you on it.”

“Just be sure to disarm FRIDAY before I come,” he reminded. “I don’t need your dad putting bars on your windows the next time I try to visit you like this.”

“Oh right!” you suddenly came to the realization. “Smart. I’ll go do that now.”

“Cool, I’ll see you in a few. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased.

“Hey, be safe! No texting and swinging!” you reminded playfully as you hung up and instantly got to work, shedding your sheets and grabbing your laptop, sliding back into bed and working out some coding.

Just as Tony had previously set up a baby monitor protocol on Peter’s suit, he had likewise set up parental controls through FRIDAY on all of your tower floor. You learned this when you tried to sneak out to a party Tony specifically forbid you from going to, and when you finally reached the elevator doors, FRIDAY locked you inside and you had to wait for Tony to come and get you. Since then, you’d been smart enough to disarm the system anytime you left your room after curfew or got into any other business Tony would obviously disapprove of. Spider-Man sneaking through your window at two in the morning to give you comfort cuddles? Probably something your father would disapprove of.

Peter tapped twice and waved, you rolling your eyes and laughing, motioning for him to come in before he slid up the glass of your window and crawled through, brushing off his suit and tugging off his mask, smiling once he clearly saw you sitting in bed, wearing one of his hoodies, grinning back at him.

“Hey Spidey,” you beamed, watching as he walked over towards your bed, kissing you softly. He tasted sweet, like candy, and you melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of his head and staying there for a moment before pulling away. He gave the best kisses.

“Heard someone needed some cheering up,” he whispered, tossing his mask on your night stand as you made grabby hands begging him to crawl into bed with you. He chuckled, giving in and situating himself underneath your covers awkwardly. You laughed alongside him, tugging him closer, pulling the sheets up over both of you, initially wincing at how cold his suit was when you went to wrap your arms around him.

“You’re freezing, Peter,” you hissed and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“It was windy outside, alright?” he sighed. “Come warm me up.”

“Well come closer, doofus,” you chuckled. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, arm draped over his chest, fingers playing with locks of his hair. Your voice grew to a soft whisper. “Thanks for coming, baby.”

“Anything for you, love,” he insisted, his hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. The room grew quiet, his hands trailing up and down your back, your fingers brushing through his messy brown locks, both of you simply enjoying each other’s company. At some point you both fell asleep, soft snores dissipating throughout the room, holding each other.

In the morning, Peter begrudgingly convinced himself he had to get up and get ready for school, kissing you on the forehead and reassuring he’d see you at lunch later that day. You groaned yourself, realizing you should probably get up and resume FRIDAY’s commands before Pepper or Happy got suspicious as to why she wasn’t giving them any updates on your morning status. You took a shower and threw on some clothes, getting ready for the school day, smiling once you saw Peter waiting for you by your locker, a Starbucks cup in his hand.

“What’s this?” you couldn’t help but laugh in surprise.

“Well I know you were sad last night and again, I just wanted to cheer you up,” he shrugged, and you found it adorable that you had been dating for going on four months now and he still got flustered being around you. “I know you like the pink one with the strawberries and the coconuts, but they were out, so I got you a peach lemonade instead, I hope that’s okay-”

“It’s wonderful, Peter,” you insisted, taking a sip and smiling fondly at your boyfriend. “Thank you. For everything. Really.”

“Damn Peter, you’re buying y/n Starbucks now?” Ned approached both of you. “You never buy me Starbucks.”

“I’m not dating you, Ned,” Peter narrowed his eyes, laughing.

“You don’t have to kiss me to buy me a cold brew,” Ned sighed.

“Anyways,” you rolled your eyes at the two boys quarreling. “You ready for that calculus exam?”

“I studied all night,” Ned smiled. “I’ve got this one down. How about you, Parker? I bet you were up late last night studying too, huh?”

“Up late last night,” you agreed. “I don’t know about studying though.”

Ned’s eyes went wide and both you and Peter laughed, the bell ringing and all of you walking to your classes. As they day went by, you started to find your mind lingering back to your dad. As much of an asshole as he was sometimes, and as overbearing and overprotective as he could get, you really did love him and care about him. Others would probably call you lame, but you really did see Tony as one of your best friends. He helped you build amazing inventions, supported you in all your academic endeavors, and did his best to look out for you. Whenever he was gone on missions for longer than a week, you always started to get worried as far as whether or not he would come back.

Peter could sense your anxiety, trying to lighten your mood with jokes or place a hand on your shoulder as a sign of affection. Afterschool he approached you, clutching onto the straps of his backpack, seeming nervous. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough day. I was thinking we could take your mind off of things and you could spend the night at my place tonight?” he offered.

“Really?” your eyes lit up, thinking how you would love more than anything to get out and do something tonight. Nothing was worse than staying at home and wallowing in your feelings.

“Yeah,” he gave a soft smile, thinking about how adorable you looked when you got excited. “Aunt May is working night shift so maybe, if it’s cool with you, we can grab a pizza, play some video games, and then watch a movie?”

“Of course,” he insisted. “And we can stop somewhere on the way home to grab some snacks too.”

“I’ll give Pepper a call and ask if I can stay over tonight, I’ll probably just say I’m with Gwen or something,” you grinned. “She’ll say yes, she usually lets me have free rein whenever Tony’s out of town.”

“Awesome,” Peter beamed.

Sure enough, you found the two of you hours later on the floor of his bedroom, eyes fixated on a television screen, playing Mario Kart and chowing down on some pepperoni pizza and cherry slushies. It was practically a ritual for you to hang out with Peter on weekends. As long as he didn’t have an academic decathlon the next morning, Aunt May let you stay as late as you wanted on Fridays. Saturdays you spent fooling around in the lab working on suit modifications, recalibrating certain machinery, or working on new projects. Sundays were official lazy days, both of you usually sleeping in and meeting up midday to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, usually wrapping up with finishing your weekend homework over facetime. However, on the weekends in which Tony or May were out of the house, the two of you liked to have sleepovers. Usually at Peter’s for the sake of having to navigate FRIDAY’s complicated algorithms.

It wasn’t like anything particularly steamy happened between the two of you. You had been only dating for a handful of months now, and you were both in high school. Sure, you and Peter liked to cuddle a lot, and hold hands, and play with each other’s hair, but that was simply just affection. And of course, you loved kissing each other, especially when nobody else was around to make fun of you or scold you. Sometimes you found yourself getting into make out sessions, pressed up against each other and finding it hard to catch your breath, hearts racing and desperately clinging onto each other.

Occasionally it would heat up a little bit more than that, some grinding and groping and moaning, and a handful of times Peter’s taken his shirt off, but that was about it. You hadn’t even really reached second base with him yet. And you weren’t complaining, you were glad you were taking things slow. But at this point, you were ready. It just felt like it was time. But you knew this was Peter’s first serious relationship, and you didn’t want to put any pressure on him or rush him into things, so you were complacent with playing Mario Kart and eating pizza in the meantime.

“I am sooo going to kick your ass,” you warned Peter, pressing down hard on your Wii remote and hitting him with a red shell as your character zoomed past him on the race track, and he simply just laughed.

“Yeah? Wait till I break out Rainbow Road,” he insisted.

“Are you actually Satan or do you just hate me?” you narrowed your eyes. “There is no way I’m playing that shit, I think I’d rather forfeit.”

“It’s all about strategy and focus,” he argued, knocking Luigi out from second place, tailing right behind you, eyes glued to the screen.

“Strategy? You sound like Ned,” you snorted, drifting a curve and heading towards a shortcut. “That racetrack is nothing but a holographic highway of death.”

“If we had it your way, we would be playing Moo Moo Meadows on an endless loop,” Peter teased and you gasped playfully.

“What? It has fun music and I like looking at the cows,” you whined and he laughed, passing you at the last minute and scoring first place, making your jaw drop. “What the hell? How?”

“What can I say? You’re dating a winner, baby,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head and taking another bite of your pizza.

“I’m dating a jackass,” you joked. “You can’t let me win just once? Come on, be nice.”

“I used to do that, and you made fun of me for it,” he pointed out. “Remember the first week we started dating?”

“You literally used to go in reverse until I caught up with you,” you replied flatly. “It was ridiculous, Peter. It’s not like you made it subtle that I happened to suck at the game or anything.”

“I just didn’t want you to feel bad,” he reassured, and you chuckled, taking a sip of your slurpee and sighing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“So another round or are we going to move onto Smash Bros?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Up to you,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his pizza as well.

“How about we play another round of Mario Kart,” you suggested. “But whoever wins gets a prize.”

“Like what?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the mischievous grin on your face, doubtful.

“I don’t know, a hoodie or something,” you perused innocently and he let out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve already stolen all of mine, so I’m not sure I’d have another one to give you quite honestly,” he admitted and you smiled, mind wandering elsewhere.

“What about…” you pouted your lips, trying to think up something good. “What about if I win, I get to do anything I want to you? And if you win, you get to do anything you want to me. All within reasonable boundaries of course.”

“Woah,” Peter’s eyes widened. “Is this the part when you tell me you actually work for Hydra and you gut me like a fish or something?”

“Pshh no that’s ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“What do you mean ‘do whatever you want to me?’ Huh?” he inquired, mischievously raising an eyebrow. “This seems oddly torture-like.”

“It’s not going to be torturing,” you stared at him, unamused. “I could never hurt you.”

“Then what could you possibly want to do to me?” he sighed, looking at you, entertained with your shenanigans, taking a sip of his cherry slushie.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, stirring your straw in your cup a couple times before casually telling him your suggestion. “Suck your dick I guess.”

He instantly spat out his slurpee, eyes widening, shocked. “E-excuse me, what?”

“I said if I win, I’d probably suck your dick I guess,” you shrugged again and he blinked at you, entire face flushed red, stuttering and stunned all at the same time. Your lips curled up in a small smile, thinking of how much you loved to see him like this, a literal blushing virgin. He was adorable, really.

“Well gosh, I uh…” he looked down at the red icee he had spat all over his t-shirt and then up at you, still at a loss for words. “You don’t really have to beat me at Mario Kart to get my permission to do that, you know.”

“Yeah, but this way makes it a lot more fun, yes?” you smirked and he swallowed awkwardly, absolutely frazzled.

“S-sure, I guess you’re right there,” he nodded slowly, still staring blankly at the slushie stains. “How do you know I’m not going to just let you win?”

“Because…” you drew out, looking at him, still smirking. “If you win, then you get to do whatever you want to me.”

He paused, turning towards you, breath hitching. “Anything?”

“Well again, no torture or killing or whatever but-” you clarified and he laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, of course, but uh…” he got lost staring at you again and you couldn’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking of. “Shit, I’m in.”

“Really?” you bit down on your lower lip, almost too excited for this bet.

“Definitely,” he nodded, feeling a bit more confident. “Just give me a second.” He slipped off his t-shirt and you watched intently, noting how built and lean he was. There were certain perks to dating Spider-Man, and it was moments when your boyfriend was sitting in front of you shirtless like this that you were ever most grateful for them.

“Well shit, Parker,” you laughed to yourself and he stared at you, confused.

“What? My shirt had slushie all over it,” he insisted and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Uh huh…”

“No for real!”

“Totally not trying to tease me or anything over here.”

“Oh whatever! Just start the game.”

“Give me a second,” you insisted, reaching down and deciding to take it one step further, slipping off your own sweatshirt and revealing your bra underneath, looking at him, anticipating his reaction. Seeing him like this, you wanted to take a picture and capture it forever. He looked breathless, staring at you, his eyes dark and fixated, his lips parted, mesmerized. You couldn’t help but smile. “See something you like, Spidey?”

“Yeah,” his eyes flickered up to yours, still blushing. “You.”

Grinning, you leaned over to kiss him, then pulled away, picking up your Wii remote and selecting your favorite racetrack. “Good luck,” you winked.

“Good luck yourself,” he laughed. “Seeing as the only time you ever beat me in Mario Kart is when my controller dies, I think you’re the one who’s going to need it.”

“Fine, to hell with luck,” you rolled your eyes as the countdown started. “Maximum effort.”

Both of you pressed down hard, zooming through the track, eyes fixated on the screen, cursing and screaming and hooting and hollering as you gained power ups and got knocked off the road by each other. By far, the most intense game of Mario Kart you’ve ever played in your life. Each round you seemed to egg each other on more and more, and although you clearly knew how this was going to end, you couldn’t help but at least try your very best. First place trophy spinning on the screen, Peter’s tongue ran over his lower lip, glancing over at you as nervousness flowered in your chest. What did he have in mind?

“I don’t think either of us saw that coming,” he stated sarcastically and you looked at him incredulously.

“Alright then Peter Parker,” you hummed lightheartedly, shutting off the television and setting your controller down, sighing as you leaned back and rest your weight upon your backwards palms. “What do you have planned for me?”

“Well…” he looked at you shyly, almost hesitant, and you began to grow even more curious. “I know you said ‘anything I wanted’ or whatever, but I want to make this enjoyable for you too, and that sure you’re okay with everything I’m doing.”

“By all means, don’t stop for me,” you insisted, small smile tugging on the edge of your lips. “If you say or do anything I don’t like, I’ll speak up. Don’t worry.” He hummed softly in acknowledgment, nodding as he looked towards the floor, still nervous, then cleared his throat.

“I think seeing as your intentions were to seduce me, I guess I have no choice but to go along with the theme,” he rolled his eyes playfully, slowly gaining confidence and crawling closer to you, making your heart beat twice as fast. He kissed you on the lips, soft and sweet and slow, and then pulled away, lowering his face so that his mouth was barely brushing up against your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper. The entire mood of the room shifted, into something more serious. “So, I think you should lay on the bed for me.”

“Whatever you say,” you smiled sweetly, trying to hide your nervousness and doing as told, getting up and making your way to his bed, laying down on your back, watching as he stood at the end, looking you up and down, licking his lips. You could tell something inside of him changed. He didn’t seem so timid anymore, afraid to suggest something or speak up. His shoulders rolled back, his feet planted solid in the ground, his entire stance exuding confidence. It was different, dominant and alluring, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it. He was entrancing like this, dark eyes gazing over your body, shirtless, hands dipping down into the waistband of his jeans, brows furrowed, pondering what to do with you.

“Hands up. Against the bedframe,” he ordered, and you looked at him, trying to analyze what he had in mind as you tentatively did as instructed, positioning your arms above you, against the wooden frame. In what seemed like an instant, he suddenly flicked his wrists outward, webs springing from his fingers and you gasped as the sticky substance pinned your hands above you, a mess of webs fixating them to the wooden plank. You eyes widened and then narrowed.

“Didn’t know Spidey was into bondage,” you bit down on your lower lip, aroused by his dominance and playfulness all the same.

“Didn’t know you could be so naughty,” he quipped back and you blushed, trying to look away, shy.

“Nuh uh, none of that,” he argued with a chuckle, crawling on top of you and raising your face to look at him with one of his hands, making your eyes meet. “If I do recall correctly, you were offering to suck me off a moment earlier. Seemed pretty eager too.”

“Still am if that’s what you fancy, Peter,” you suggested, eyes twinkling with a glint of naughtiness, but he just shook his head, smiling.

“I think I have other plans for you tonight,” he insisted, kissing you again this time, but rougher, his tongue sliding in between your lips and up against your own, then retreating to have his teeth catch your lower lip, dragging it between them before he pulled away, devilish smirk on his face.

“Mind filling me in on the agenda?” you asked with a breathy voice, fluttering your eyelids and parting your lips, bucking your hips up to meet his.

“It involves your pants off, and my head between your legs, and you moaning my name,” his eyes flickered up to meet yours. “And then me fucking you into this bed until those moans turn into screams.”

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, eyes glazed over, staring at him, practically speechless.

“Sound good to you, sweetheart?” he hummed, fingers tracing over your stomach, playing with the hem of your waistband.

“Shit…” you laughed to yourself quietly, eyes still fixated on him, feeling unbelievably flustered. “I think I ought to up the ante on Mario Kart wins a whole lot more from now on.”

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years ago

Photo

In the Arms of the Anus

Fandom: Spider-Man, Thor Pairing: Roger Harrington/Grandmaster Rating: T Word Count: 8883

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @spiderman-homecomeme!!!

Summary: While people all over the world are finding their soulmates, Roger Harrington can barely find time to grab a sandwich. Clumsy, anxious, and stagnating in a mediocre marriage, it's a miracle that he still believes in love.

Today's the day the universe rewards that belief.

Three things about Roger Harrington: he’d just tripped on the sidewalk, he worried daily that he was developing a bald spot, and, at the age of 36, he felt he still believed in love as strongly as did the little girl in his building who’d made all the residents Valentine’s Day cards the year before.

The cards—which Roger had found endearing while his wife had been baffled to the point of annoyance—had been wedged into everyone’s mailbox sometime on the afternoon of last May 19th, and maybe that was why he thought of them today, exactly a year later.

It was helpful, he found, to consider love in markers of time passing, or just numbers. The anniversary of those Valentine’s cards would always be 271 days early, leap year or not. Roger had been married twice, longer the second time. He had zero children, and that was alright with him because he wasn’t totally sure that he did want kids and, anyway, he was too profoundly stressed about the welfare of the teenagers he taught at Midtown to comfortably imagine himself as a fulltime parent.

His wife was cool. Significantly cooler than he was. She drove out of the city to hike every other weekend (he had never joined her and hoped to never be called upon for woodsy companionship), had once performed an emergency tracheotomy on a friend at a dinner party, and had a tattoo on her hip that predated their relationship, which made it consequently, eternally, enigmatic, no matter how many times she told the objectively trite story of its acquisition. Also, she was a casual shoplifter, which made him very, very nervous in a way that he found difficult to differentiate from how he felt when he was turned on.

He was the kind of person who consistently forgot to take his glasses off before stepping into the shower. She was the kind of person who would run into and recognize a famous race car driver at Whole Foods (that had happened) or fake her own death (that had not happened—knock on wood!). Essentially, what and who his second wife was was the natural successor to his first wife (the reckless young bride to his insomniac young groom), who had in turn been the natural successor to the only other romantic encounter of his life worth mentioning: a kiss on the cheek at a birthday party on the day the Berlin Wall fell. Roger had been seven.

So his romantic history was speckled and, in two out of three cases, spoke a little too loudly of a need for legally-recognized codependence. So he didn’t feel like a man anyone would ever get a tattoo in honour of. So his wife had been a little unkind in the long pause before her negative when he’d asked her if she thought he was getting a bald spot. Roger still felt that love was going to happen for him. Hopefully sustained in his current marriage, but if not, there was always what Julius Dell had taken to (highly unscientifically) calling the Love Wave.

If Roger decided to be really delusional, he could pretend that the Love Wave was to blame for his stumble over uneven concrete on his way to grab lunch. That he was finally feeling its cosmic tug. Not that he would be the last to sense it—the inexplicable force that had lately begun guiding people the world over to their new partners—but every day that he didn’t, he feared his wife would feel it first and go careening out of their life together in a Thelma and Louise-style launch that somehow left her intact and him feeling like he’d plummeted to his death at the bottom of a canyon. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he imagined feeling that impulse to go to this destined soulmate and pictured it leading him home. Not in some metaphorical way, but literally home, to the apartment he shared with his wife, to find her arriving at the same time, the two of them matched up, the universe endorsing their marriage.

The reality was that he was a man with clumsy feet (and knees and elbows) who’d forgotten to pack himself a lunch and had just enough self-awareness (though probably not dignity) not to believe that eating in the cafeteria with his students was something he would be able to socially recover from.

He thought about a poorly-cut-out pink heart glued to a fold of red craft paper. He went to buy a sandwich.

At the deli, Roger waited in line and didn’t so much allow his mind to wander—like a dog off-leash in a dog park—as feel his mind jerk insistently away—like a dog on-leash, trying to snap a dropped slice of pizza off the sidewalk. He was violently not present as his thoughts migrated from Valentine’s Day cards to lesson plans to the anxiety he always felt over the fact of never seeming to have enough power to go with the tremendous sense of responsibility he felt for all situations in which he was even remotely involved. He would have, should have, continued to shuffle vacantly forward in line, except that the man ahead of him grumbled something that drew his focus.

What he grumbled was: “Even the Sorcerer Supreme should be able to spare a minute to decide what kind of sandwich he wants.”

Now, Roger Harrington was a man of science, but he was also a man who had previously enjoyed a close friendship with the Hulk (and if anyone challenged him on specific parameters within that assertion, Roger knew that he would cry). Aliens swarmed the sky like clouds of bees. There were compilation videos of Spider-Man nearly getting hit by city buses that could’ve been designed expressly to see how hard Roger could flinch. For a clumsy man with the unathletic, knock-kneed gait of Pippi Longstocking, Roger did his best to roll with the supernatural punches. Hey, this was how science worked too: just because there wasn’t a precedent yet didn’t mean there never would be. Just because he couldn’t explain something didn’t mean no one could. Sorcerers? Alright. There could be sorcerers.

“Sorcerers?” Roger blurted to the man, overeager to expel the word.

All other words had fled to the back of his mind, twitching in an agitated cluster, leaving just the one to be snatched frantically from the surface. Like fishing. (Roger had never been fishing. One of his greatest fears was having a live fish somehow jump into his shoe and stepping on it by accident.)

“Uhhh,” the man droned. He looked uneasy. If Roger knew how to make his eyes a little less wide in situations like these, he would’ve done it.

“No, yeah, sorcerers, sure,” Roger swiftly backpedaled. “I’m a teacher.”

As if being a teacher equaled knowledge of sorcerers. As if that were a normal unit of the high school curriculum. Roger’s understanding of sorcerers began and ended with Mickey Mouse in a blue wizard’s hat. He wondered if that was sort of the standard look.

The man did not appear reassured. Roger thrust his hand forward.

“Roger Harrington, Midtown Tech.”

Face still wary, his deli companion shook hands.

“Wong.”

“So, this sorcerer of yours didn’t pick a sandwich?” The line shuffled forward and, now in reach of the long glass case of food, Roger attempted to lean his elbow casually against it, misjudged the distance, and jerked back upright again before he could fall over.

“No… You heard that part too?”

“If I could hear the part about the sorcerer, why wouldn’t I be able to hear the rest?”

“I think most people would’ve been so fixated on the sorcerer thing that they wouldn’t really absorb the part about the sandwich.”

“Just got sandwiches on the brain, I guess,” Roger said.

God, if Wong knew a sorcerer, odds were that he was a sorcerer too. (Roger based this on being a teacher with almost exclusively teacher friends and acquaintances.) He was making it sound like he cared more about sandwiches, he knew he was. He stared silently at Wong for a few painful seconds and wondered if the man could tell that he had worked for a sandwich shop as a teenager—the role of wearing a full-body sandwich costume and standing on the sidewalk, trying to attract people into the shop.

But Wong surprised him by nodding.

“You could get one of everything,” Roger heard himself suggest.

He was not typically one to make suggestions, but rather one to panic when other people did and he was in the position of having to choose between them. He could never decide on a restaurant for he and his wife’s now few-and-far-between date nights, or provide straightforward feedback when she asked for his opinion on her clothing choices… which movie they should see… what they should buy for her friend’s sister’s housewarming gift...

Oh god, she was probably going to fake her own death and his biggest anxiety was knowing that someone would ask him to choose the casket!

“I have like…” Wong jingled his pockets and extracted a fistful of coins that, when he opened his hand, Roger saw belonged to several different currencies. “…six bucks.”

Like a mirror with a delay, Roger patted his own pockets to locate his wallet. He flipped it open to reveal something promising and terrifying: he’d forgotten to return the school credit card after the last field trip he’d chaperoned. He shouldn’t, but… sorcerer.

“I think this’ll cover it,” Roger said. “It’s for emergency expenses.”

“Like lunch?” Wong asked doubtfully.

“I could be very hungry.”

“They sell seventeen different types of sandwiches here.”

“I could be very, very hungry.”

Wong shrugged in evident acquiescence and Roger marvelled that it was so simple for him to accept this act of generosity. Roger couldn’t recall the last time someone had been as generous towards him. Wait, yes he could. The Valentine’s Day card. Well, handing over a credit card that wasn’t technically his didn’t exactly equate to presenting his ticket at the Love Wave gates (not that there were such things—not that he’d know), but he was hoping to trade this generosity up for a different magical experience in the near future.

When they reached the front of the line for service, Roger ordered a total of eighteen sandwiches. (And received an undisguised groan of complaint from the people still in line behind himself and Wong.) While they waited, Roger buzzed like the posterchild for over-caffeination, doing his best not to let his excitement translate into erratic movements.

Of course, once the sandwiches were presented and paid for, it only made sense for Roger to help Wong carry them all. His own ham-and-Swiss was stuffed into one of the three bags and they were all bulging, threatening to spill. If one of them ripped on Wong’s journey back to wherever he had to take them, who would be there to gather the sandwiches into their arms so that Wong wouldn’t have to leave them on the ground? Roger was clearly the best (only) person for the job.

And if they talked on the way? That would be natural. If Wong stared at him with abrupt, unyielding suspicion the instant Roger attempted to negotiate a visit with this ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ in exchange for buying his lunch? Yeah. Yeah that suspicion would be fair.

“Not for my sake!” Roger defended as Wong blinked back at him. “For the kids!”

“The Sorcerer Supreme isn’t a birthday party magician.”

“No, I would never imply that! These are bright kids. They’d be there to learn, respectfully. They’ve had their own traumatic encounter with Spider-Man already so there wouldn’t be any clambering to meet another person with superhuman powers!”

“What did Spider-Man do to traumatize them?”

Wong looked interested now, in an entertained sort of way. Meanwhile, Roger was having a flashback of his life flashing before his eyes inside the Washington Monument.

“Actually, he saved us,” Roger explained. “That’s not the point. It would be purely educational. You and the Sorcerer Supreme would call the shots. As long as it wasn’t anything dangerous.”

“Dangerous? We would never put children at risk!”

Roger was about to clarify that he hadn’t meant to imply that they would when he realized Wong seemed to be taking this as a reason to prove himself, or to make the other sorcerer prove what he’d just said.

“I would hope not,” Roger said carefully, “because not all of the children I’ve taken on field trips have come back alive and that haunts me.”

“Well, what haunts me is everything I’ve seen and learned from in order to become someone who could now guarantee a safe field trip environment.”

“Well, that would be great.”

“Well, good,” Wong concluded.

Roger looked down at the bag he was holding as he dug out his sandwich. His wrist twisted and he caught the time on his watch. Oh wow, oh no, his lunch break was almost over.

“Ok, deal,” he said quickly. “We’ll come by next Tuesday!”

“I’ll be out here to let you in!” Wong agreed with a parting wave.

Roger took off running in the direction of Midtown and when that got too awful, he wheezed like an asthmatic and waited at the closest bus stop.

—

Roger had expected Principal Morita to say there was no room in their budget for this trip. That they were nearing the end of the school year, that parents and guardians would be reluctant to sign another form for an excursion that Roger could only give a vague, stammering explanation of. At the very least, he’d anticipated the journey via school bus in lurching, stop-and-start traffic to take so long that the kids would revolt; Flash Thompson would lead the complaints that they could’ve walked to their destination faster than the ride took and Roger would feel the primal horror of a confrontation with a self-possessed teenager who wielded the kind of peer influence Roger could only have dreamed of when he’d been Flash’s age.

But no.

Highly improbably (Roger didn’t like to consider it miraculous), things went smoothly. The trip cleared the budget assessment on zero notice because, besides renting the single bus to transport the students, their outing didn’t actually have any costs. Permission slips came back signed. Traffic was light. And dear, dear Flash��who usually gave Roger so much anxiety—slapped the hand Roger raised to shield his eyes from the sun as his students disembarked from the bus, rewarding him with a surprise high-five for getting them out of the classroom on a Tuesday afternoon. It almost knocked Roger’s glasses off.

They were ushered inside by Wong, who was now laying the mystical solemnity on pretty thick. He certainly wasn’t talking about sandwiches or complaining about the Supreme Sorcerer under his breath.

Before Roger could feel too good about himself though, he realized he’d had time to run through his headcount of the students three times without interruption. Normally, something would happen partway through his first count and he’d be uneasy for the rest of the day, sure that one of the kids had fallen down a manhole or been stampeded by a dog-walker’s unruly canine swarm. The universe shoved teenagers into the path of bike couriers with one hand and paired up soulmates with the other. That was just how things went! However, inside this house (or, no, Sanctum, Wong had called it), the air was still and quiet.

“Do you think he’s gonna make himself appear out of thin air?” Roger heard Ned ask at a whisper. “Or out of a wardrobe, or a trapdoor, or one of those boxes people get in to get sawed in half?”

“Those are cheap tricks,” Wong said loudly. He stared unsympathetically at Roger’s motley group, hand closed around his opposite wrist to maintain a serious pose. “The man you’ll be meeting shortly has capabilities that far outstrip those of the kind of magician-for-hire you’d find in a phonebook.”

From behind him, Roger heard Peter ask Ned what a phonebook was.

“What kind of capabilities then?” Flash demanded.

Roger sighed and was turning to reprimand his student when Wong said, “Like this!”

The man faked a sneeze of horrific volume and range, doubling over and cupping his hand around his mouth and nose. When he straightened up and presented his open palm, there was a raspberry sitting in it.

Roger closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and his teaching career played on a fast-forwarded film reel behind his lids. The Sorcerer Supreme was a no-show; all Roger had accomplished was taking the kids to a weird building to witness a man pretend to sneeze out a raspberry. Midtown Tech was going to fire him. His wife would recognize his unemployment as a reason to leave him. Depressingly, Roger was thinking about how that would almost be a relief—an end to his incessant worrying that they were really kind of a mismatch—and he was thinking it while he blankly watched Wong eat the raspberry he’d just feigned dislodging from his nasal cavity.

He was really unprepared for a different man to come sweeping down the stairs, motion with his hand, and have a red sheet come whizzing down after him to settle itself on his shoulders. Roger blinked. He heard the mixed noises of fright and appreciation from his students.

Then Flash piped up with, “That’s just a trick. It’s wires or something.”

Roger backed into the cluster of his charges and, without taking his eyes off the obvious Magical Guy in front of him, reached over and placed his hand across Flash’s mouth.

Unfortunately, his censorship seemed to be too late. The Sorcerer’s narrowed eyes zoned in on Flash.

“Oh yeah? How ’bout this? Is this just a trick?”

Fingers splayed, the man moved his hands in a precise, practiced way and a window opened up in the middle of the room. No, not a window, but Roger was having a tough time wrapping his head around it. What this non-window showed was something that wasn’t the room, that wasn’t a view of the street, that wasn’t anyplace in New York, if he had to guess.

“You can’t just do it like that,” Wong said wearily. Roger felt himself and his students look from one of the men to the other as though watching a tennis match. “There should be a little more finesse.”

“Look,” the Sorcerer told him. “You don’t get to spring this on me and then expect me to ham it up for the kids. This isn’t a David Blaine show.”

“Maybe you should watch one. You might learn something about showmanship.”

“So, it’s fake, right?” Flash checked.

Dammit, Roger had dropped his hand, distracted as he tried to make out what he was seeing through what he was becoming increasingly comfortable with calling a ‘magic portal’ in his thoughts. He scrambled to take hold of Flash’s shoulder—yanking him back would be bad, but dealing with the fallout of him pissing off somebody who could make magic portals would be much worse—but Flash dodged him, swaggering forward to inspect the Sorcerer’s work.

“What is it? Mirrors? Greenscreen? You buy your tech from Stark?”

“Stark?” the Sorcerer spat out derisively.

Overcome with the terrible feeling that he was about to find out what it looked like when a wizard put a curse on a child, Roger sprang forward. As he did, three things happened: the Sorcerer rotated his wrist slightly, the scene on the other side of the portal changed, and Flash turned to the side.

Without a student to grab onto and pull to safety, Roger’s momentum sent him hurtling through the gateway currently connecting Midtown to parts unknown.

Of all the times to trip, he thought.

—

The world was bright and fast and bad. Actually, Roger was almost positive that what he was seeing wasn’t the world at all, but he couldn’t put a name to where he was any more than he could think of better adjectives to describe it. Unless the Sorcerer Supreme owned a magical slip ’n’ slide that operated at speeds designed to train prospective astronauts for space travel, Roger was no longer in his building.

The colour of the tunnel of light surrounding him turned from something like the intestinal track of a unicorn who ate lightning and nebulas to a dangerous, broiling red. Roger kept waiting for his skin to bubble, his face to melt off. Maybe he was the fabled frog in the pot of boiling water and had failed to notice the heat steadily increasing. Because he didn’t feel hot. He couldn’t tell whether or not he felt cold either and before he could work it out, he finally landed.

It was rough.

He curled his arms up around his head, protecting his face. He hit and tumbled, hit and tumbled, banging his shins and elbows, setting off a series of metallic clangs and thwumps like his body was playing drums made of the contents of somebody’s recycling bin. Roger could see—once, shaking, he was able to lower his arms and open his eyes—that his imagination hadn’t been far from the mark: he was lying in a heap of trash.

Trembling like a baby deer, he got to his feet and assessed his surroundings. There were piles everywhere. Piles of stuff. Roger could identify some of the battered objects, but most were utterly alien to him. This was like the time he’d found his wife’s sex toys all over again.

“Hello?” he called out, because he seemed to be alone. “Hel—”

His throat closed off abruptly when he swiveled in place and noticed the sky. His mouth fell open. Was that what he had just come through? That furious-looking, billowing, volcanic, enormous… disturbance? Weather pattern? Entrance to hell, if hell were a mountain of trash?

Oh man. Where was Spider-Man this time? Roger didn’t know which would come first, but if something distinctly reassuring didn’t happen in the next 30 seconds, he was going to either burst into tears or pee his pants. His cool wife was going to be so bummed to have to declare him dead instead of faking her own death. And his students would be traumatized, having just witnessed their teacher disappear before their eyes. He spent a frantic 17 of his 30 seconds wondering if this were Jumanji and he’d started a game without realizing it; being sucked into a board game was another of his greatest fears, ever since he’d watched the chilling horror film Jumanji in his teens.

“Hello?” Roger croaked a final time.

Some other scientist—a Tony Stark type—would thrive in this scenario, Roger knew. They would scavenge the surrounding mounds of metal, collecting and assembling pieces into some sort of technology that would either get them home or enable communication with a rescue team. Would there be a rescue team for Roger Harrington? Would anyone even try to get him back?

The cry/pee conundrum was looking more like cry with each passing second until suddenly, amongst the broken things Roger was aggrieved to consider the lone sentinels of his demise, some kind of spacecraft touched down. Based on his recent luck, whoever was at the helm was likely here to kill him, but he immediately elected to throw himself on their mercy, whether that meant rescue or just a swifter snuffing out of his life than he would otherwise experience on this sad island of garbage as he died from dehydration, starvation, and exposure to that infernal gateway in the sky.

He mouthed the word “help” more than said it as he staggered forward on legs he could hardly feel. A door in the side of the spacecraft slid smoothly open and party music blared out. Roger flinched back as though he had not heard the sounds of civilization in years.

A woman exited the craft. She wore an expression about as kind as the murderous upside-down mushroom cloud in the sky and when their eyes met, she barked, “Back!”

Roger executed an awkward reverse lunge, pleading hands raised. Ok, now that his time had come, he didn’t want a quick death. Put out of his misery? No, he would learn to live with his misery, the way he’d learned to live with his college roommates, or his wife’s collection of handmade bowls! With food and water to sustain him, he was suddenly confident that he could be successfully miserable for years if this intimidating woman would just leave him to his own pathetic devices.

But then, like a visitation from a tan, eye-liner-wearing angel of indeterminate age, a man in gold robes emerged from the vessel. He beamed like he had always been beaming, and always would be.

Just like that, Roger Harrington got it. He got what Hot Chocolate meant when they sang that they believed in miracles. He got the meaning of Kylie Jenner’s year of realizing stuff. He got why a child would send out Valentine’s Day cards in May and why his wife was so dedicated to her hiking group and why he was here.

“Now, what did I say about that before we left?” the angel seemed to be asking his companion, though he’d locked his eyes on Roger. “Did I say to harass our visitor or did I say to be nice?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Roger, which he felt more than saw; it was possible that he was crying after all. Tears of joy.

“Harass,” she answered flatly.

The angel chuckled.

“You know, I do like having you around. Before you, I said to myself, ‘Next time, get an enforcer with a sense of humour.’” He sighed as his laughter dwindled. “But you can, uh, skedaddle back onto the ship now. That’ll be all.”

“What if you want to melt him?” she queried.

That was enough to tear Roger’s gaze away from the man and send it zipping nervously to the threatening almost-smile the woman was now directing his way. He’d preferred the murder face.

“Melt him!” the angel said, in a tone that implied her suggestion had been ridiculous. (Roger relaxed. A little.) “Topaz, don’t you realize who this is? Don’t you know?”

She shrugged.

“Trash.”

“No, he’s not trash! Do you think I would’ve left the Grand Arena to retrieve a new gladiator by hand? All those Scrappers don’t do my bidding just so I can dig through the garbage looking for fresh challengers for my champion! I wouldn’t even assign Scrapper 142 this task, and you know she’s my favourite!”

When the woman only grumbled, the man pressed, “You have an unbelievable poker face. Do you really not know why I flew all the way out here for this guy?”

“I’m his soulmate,” Roger blurted, because that was the one thing he did know.

He had no idea what a Scrapper was, or whether the man in front of him was more or less important than the ‘champion’ he’d mentioned, or how his homicidal sidekick planned to melt Roger, but he understood what was happening here. Forget the Love Wave—what had come for him had yanked him violently across solar systems, maybe galaxies. He’d been sucked under by the Love Riptide.

The angel pointed at him and proudly proclaimed, “Correctamundo!”

Then he strode forward and folded Roger into a hug. Roger thought this must be what it was like to be a piece of antique furniture, tenderly wrapped in gold leaf.

“I’m the Grandmaster,” he said.

“Roger Harrington,” Roger offered, feeling that his life was entirely surreal as he cautiously returned the hug.

“As soon as I felt you land on my humble little planet here, I came looking. My orgy guests were disappointed, naturally, but I had to put my interests first. What was I, elected? If they wanted a leader who would pretend to care about everyone equally, they should have organized themselves into a viable political party capable of rivalling my dictatorship, am I right?” He drew back slightly and laughed. “You should see your face! I’m kidding. I would’ve had anyone involved in such a thing put to death. Don’t you worry, Hairball.”

Roger cleared his throat. He’d learned so much in the last few sentences alone. Death. Dictator. Orgy. Any one of those things was a lot to confront and yet… he was calmed by the Grandmaster’s presence. He was alive and unmelted. He’d managed to find his soulmate—a man he’d been almost certain to never meet as things stood with Earth’s individually-impressive but cosmically-insignificant progress with space travel. At long last, the universe had smiled on Roger Harrington.

“Just Roger is good,” he said. If last names ever came up again, he would tactfully correct his soulmate, but with a name like ‘the Grandmaster,’ he doubted they ever would.

“Roger. Anything you say.” Gripping Roger’s shoulders, the Grandmaster leaned in and planted a sound kiss on his forehead with a loud, “Mmmwah!”

He asked Roger if he would like to go aboard his ship, apologizing that it wasn’t the one where he’d just been having the orgy and appearing to check Roger’s face for disappointment. Roger didn’t know what the Grandmaster saw in his expression, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Inside the spaceship, Roger looked around with huge eyes. He hadn’t felt this kind of wonder in a room jammed with so much beyond his understanding since the first time his mom had taken him to the New York Hall of Science as a kid. Everything was bright and white and immaculately clean, and Roger could concentrate on all of it because the Grandmaster had Topaz drop the volume of his party playlist until it was just a low pulse of background noise. Seemingly amused by his awe, the Grandmaster allowed him a peek at the controls before gently herding him into a chamber with seating arranged for socializing. A pneumatic hiss sealed them safely inside and away from the woman’s scowl.

“I really just wanna sit here and, uh, just look atcha, but that look on your face tells me you’ve got about a million questions.”

The Grandmaster settled back into the bench seating, resting his long arms along the top of the seat. Across from him, Roger fidgeted, experiencing sensory overload. Soulmate. Spaceship. Alien planet. He found it hard to decide what to ask first. Was that even polite? Was the Grandmaster just saying that Roger could ask questions when he really wanted Roger to say or do something else? There was an awfully flirtatious look in his eye, the likes of which Roger hadn’t seen directed towards himself in several years.

“What is this place?” Roger asked before he could stop himself. “Where am I?”

“Oh! This is Sakaar! Are you saying you didn’t come here on purpose? I figured you weren’t aiming for a pile of trash, but you really didn’t know where you were going at all?”

Roger shook his head so hard that he had to nudge his slipping glasses back up his nose.

“It was an accident. I fell through a wizard’s—uh, I mean, a sorcerer’s—magic portal. That kind of clumsiness must sound pretty farfetched to someone who’s so obviously…” Roger motioned spastically towards his soulmate, the dictator, with both hands. “…in control of their life.”

The Grandmaster laughed, transparently pleased and preening.

“Oh, Roger, you flatter me.”

He stretched out his leg to playfully tap his shoe (gold) against Roger’s (plain, brown, frayed shoelace). Roger jumped, giddy from an alteration in sea level, possibly, plus life-changing events.

“But it really isn’t so uncommon for people, beings, things… to end up here without meaning to,” the Grandmaster went on. “A lot of junk passes through the Anus. Not that you’re junk, obviously.”

With a winning smile, Roger’s soulmate leaned forward and patted him on the knee. He was a touchy-feely guy, it seemed, and it made Roger cognizant of how very lonely he’d been in his marriage, in the last year especially. How skittish around strangers, how unaffectionate with his friends. This was what he needed, and the universe had understood that.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up with what his soulmate had said, distracted by the comfort he was taking in his easy warmth.

“The Anus?” Roger asked in a choked voice.

“The Devil’s Anus, to be exact. That enormous, horrifying wormhole out there in the sky!” the Grandmaster explained, gleeful. “Best I can guess, it acts as a funnel for accidental travelers, like yourself. And boy, are we ever grateful for that thing. I’ve never had to post any ‘Help Wanted’ flyers, I’ll tell ya that. We need more people serving drinks? Boom. More entertainers? Boom. More lubricators for the orgies? Boom, the Anus provides, baby.”

Roger didn’t inquire what the duties of a person with the job title ‘orgy lubricator’ entailed; it seemed sleazily self-explanatory. He just nodded.

“And now,” his perfect, golden match continued, “the portal brings me my soulmate. I love that thing. It’s really somethin’, huh?”

“It’s really something,” Roger agreed. “Really, really something.”

“You’re looking just a little stunned there, Rodge. Can I offer you something to eat? A drink? I promise, I’m usually a much better host. I feel like I’m positively, uh, bumbling right now.” He beamed.

This man was so many things at once—possibly too many—but bumbling was so far from being one of them that Roger actually laughed weaky in his state of happy, semi-delirium. He accepted the cold glass that was pressed into his hand, the brush of the Grandmaster’s warm palm across his forehead. He had moved to sit right next to Roger.

“You can get used to this place at your own pace, within reason.” His soulmate chuckled. “Heck, we can stay right here a day or two. My plans are cancelled, and when I stop, the world stops. That’s how it is, being the Grandmaster, and that’s how it’s gonna be for you too. You can give all your worries a big, wet kiss goodbye, my love. You’re living a life of luxury now. A court of sycophants, fights to the death in the evening, orgies on a lazy afternoon. I’m talkin’ a life of pure class—”

“Class!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I said.” The Grandmaster was wearing a languid smile as he traced the back of his fingers along Roger’s jaw.

But Roger was suddenly too alert to be lulled by welcome caresses and delicious, exotic beverages.

“I was teaching a class before I fell through the portal,” he said. “I’m a teacher. My students are probably terrified. Some of them might be messed up for life after watching me disappear right in front of them. What have I done…”

“So you gave them a cool story to tell their friends! You don’t need to think about that anymore. Now that you’re living here—”

“I can’t live here!” Roger said, seizing the Grandmaster’s hands in his as he tried desperately to explain. “I have responsibilities as an educator! Jesus Christ, I’m married!”

“Roger. Rodge. Rodge. Hey,” his soulmate said, finally disrupting Roger’s spiral of panic. “That’s all in the past. Do you know how many creatures from just, uh, every darn corner of the universe I’ve made slaughter each other for my entertainment? Thousands, Roger, ok? Thousands. And it’s taught me oodles about life. What I’ve learned is that love is the only thing that matters. What all of those poor bastards scream for in the end is their mom, their partner, their best friend. Now, that doesn’t help them, but it helps us. It helps us understand that we’ve done it—we’ve achieved the one thing in our lives that was worth a damn to achieve. I’m not gonna, gonna now be parted from you, sweetheart. You are the point of me.”

Roger felt himself growing teary at the speech. Yes, this had been a whirlwind—they’d met no more than 15 minutes ago—but he was feeling something just as deep as the love the Grandmaster described. It was a fantasy in the best way, the life his soulmate pictured for them (most of it… maybe not the part about slaughter). But it was a fantasy in the worst way too, something so impossible that Roger felt sick for getting as attached to this man as he already had.

“I can’t,” he said softly. He let his head hang down, solaced when the Grandmaster guided it onto his shoulder and wrapped a protective arm around him.

“Can’t you? For me? Roger, if I put you on a ship and send you back through the Anus, we may never meet again.”

Roger squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be selfish, but there were people he couldn’t leave in the lurch. People who maybe didn’t care about him in a way that was equal to how he cared about them, but that was how any kind of relationship was, apart from soulmates. There were imbalances. He knew he might not be the most brilliant scientist, the most inspirational teacher, the husband a woman would prefer over the outdoorsy hunk in her hiking group, but he knew who he was: he was someone who couldn’t just walk away.

“We’ll be together again,” Roger said, clutching the Grandmaster’s robes. “After.”

Though he didn’t yet know what ‘after’ would mean.

—

It wasn’t as unexpected as it could have been—Roger had always had a feeling he’d die on a school bus.

The difference between his fears and reality was that he wasn’t departing this world in a fiery crash or zooming out of control between the steel trusses and into the East River. There was confusion, there was chaos, there were screams and the violent honking of horns, but there were elements he couldn’t have predicted. Primarily, the giant alien spacecraft hovering over the city. The ship immediately moved into first place of the most ominous rings in his life (he and his wife were not in a good place). Since its sighting, things had quickly spiraled out of control. Julius had radioed Roger from the other bus of students they were chaperoning to MoMA to report that Ned Leeds had ‘flipped his shit’ and Peter Parker was currently missing. Roger had nearly passed out. The only thing that had kept him conscious was his jittery concern for the rest of his students.

At Midtown Tech, they had drills for almost every eventuality. As of 2012, hostile outer space invasion was actually part of their repertoire, but it had always been assumed they would be at school when it happened, not out on a field trip. The most Roger had been able to think to do was get the kids to a secure location. Which meant getting the buses to a secure location. But the buses were on the bridge, and all over the bridge drivers were panicking, mindlessly stomping on the gas and attempting to swerve around the rest of the vehicles. Above the blood rushing in his ears, he’d heard crash after crash, until their bus was hemmed in and, through the smoking, crumpled hoods of their fellow commuters, the alien ship hung stationary in the sky. Disturbingly tranquil as New York City went to pieces to the tune of apocalyptic dissonance just below.

In the end, the spaceship hadn’t stayed put, but Roger had. The lanes around them were crowded with smashed cars. Glass from shattered windshields glittered on the pavement. Still, more vehicles surged forward as drivers attempted to use the bridge to flee the city; this wasn’t NYC’s first alien rodeo. He hadn’t attempted to force any of his students to remain on the bus—they were some of the smartest and the best of their generation, and he trusted their survival instincts far more than his own—but he did direct the ones who fled to first climb up onto the roof of the bus instead of dropping directly down onto the street and risking injury. Yes, he worried about minor cuts and bruises. Even now.

He thought that Flash was staying with him, and was touched. But then he realized Flash was just gripping his shoulder for leverage as he jumped and grabbed for the emergency roof hatch with his free hand. Roger knew the boy was somewhat neglected by his parents, and so, for the first time, he was happy go hear ‘Hotline Bling.’ It was Flash’s ringtone and it played incessantly as his phone rang and rang until the song, and the sound of Flash running, faded into the distance. Somebody wanted to see that he was safe. Somebody cared about him.

Alone, Roger hunkered down between the seats, knees bent in front of him. He scraped one hand anxiously through his hair and gripped his phone in the other.

He should call his wife. He knew he should. Only, he was afraid that she either wouldn’t pick up or she’d answer and be with the guy from her hiking group. Roger wasn’t even upset; he was glad she had someone, if this was it.

Ever since he’d returned from Sakaar, he’d been different, he was aware that he had. In the past, his wife had been largely responsible for the sundering of their marriage, but Roger knew that he was now pulling away too. It had begun inside him—the tear. He wanted to be with two people for two different reasons. In two places, on two worlds. Commitment clashed with longing. Logical rightness fought emotional rightness. He’d been weak, persuading himself daily to tough it out with his wife (even as he slept on the couch every night because lying beside her made him unhappy), when, for once in his damn life, he wanted to be fulfilled. Somewhere out in the stars, there was a man with blue eyeliner and an entire planet at his capricious command and he was the person for Roger.

If only, he thought, picturing the face he shouldn’t have been able to recall so clearly for the brevity of their encounter months ago. Roger shut his eyes to better remember the Grandmaster, and so he wouldn’t have to see his phone clatter to the bus’s dirty floor when the hand that held it turned to dust.

—

As with his life on regular, non-apocalypse days, not much happened to Roger. Despite his paralyzing breakdown on a school bus, he wasn’t among the billions scattered to the wind like sentient dandruff. He picked himself up and went home. Sure, he was shivering almost out of his skin from the shock, but he didn’t collapse into wracking, snotty sobs until he was safely in his living room, listening to his neighbours’ wails through the condo’s walls.

Roger’s wife wasn’t there, didn’t answer when he called her, and, three weeks later, still hadn’t made contact. It took another two months to hold her wake; the funeral business was booming. Never had so many words been spoken over so many vacant graves. Some members of his wife’s hiking group attended, some had even helped him select the right music and flowers beforehand. They knew her preferences. It felt surreal to be burying a person he couldn’t prove—in any meaningful way—that he’d really known.

With a queasy sense of being very lucky, he accepted that, apart from his marital status, his life hadn’t been upended. His windows weren’t broken, his car wasn’t stolen, the few family members he was out of touch with anyway had also survived. He went back to work before anybody called him in. There weren’t any students at first, just the echo of Roger’s clumsy footsteps tripping over the rug in the staffroom, half-solved equations on the whiteboards in the math classrooms, and the unholy stench of unwashed pinnies when he poked his head into the gym storage room to see if Coach Wilson was around. One day, Roger tipped back in the chair at the front of his own empty classroom and spotted a gigantic cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. It made him think of Spider-Man. He guessed that guy was gone too.

The most important thing for keeping sane was establishing a regimen. Work was a big part of that, but Roger also traveled daily into Manhattan to visit the Sorcerer’s place. It became a kind of pilgrimage. Early on, Wong would come out to say hello, but it was eventually less about commiseration and more of a perfunctory thing. Roger knew (assumed, hoped) that if the Sorcerer ever did return, Wong would let him know and welcome him inside. And then… a portal? And then the Grandmaster? He tried not to think about it too hard. Yearning took up a lot of energy and, when his students began to come back to school in distressingly low numbers, Roger needed to reserve that energy for teaching.

Everything was the same, every day, until it wasn’t.

For a reason he couldn’t rationally explain, Roger knocked on the Sorcerer’s door. While he was waiting—just a few seconds, he planned—a man materialized on the sidewalk right next to him. He tottered and Roger reflexively said, “Whoa!” and grabbed his shoulder to keep him on his feet. Before Roger could hypothesize or ask the man any questions, a teenage girl returned to existence a few feet away. Then a woman holding a toddler tightly in her arms. A little boy. A man with a dog. A bicycle-less bike cop, still wearing his helmet. Releasing the man, Roger spun and pounded against the door with his fist.

Still, no one answered.

Fighting the urge to show up at Midtown Tech, Roger made himself stay put, right there on the Sorcerer’s doorstep.

He waited a long time. As the sun set, New York City rose around him. He watched people hugging, running home down the middle of the street. He fielded unfinished questions as the newly returned began to ask him what had happened, what time it was, what year, before jogging away, more purposeful with every step they took. Roger’s foot began to bounce on the sidewalk and his clammy hands twisted fretfully. It was still another 12 hours before the door opened.

Roger fell backwards into Wong’s shins, delirious from the sickening seesaw between urgency and exhaustion. Everywhere, people were reconnecting. He scrambled to his feet because he wanted to be one of them.

“Is he here?” Roger demanded.

Wong narrowed his eyes slightly, holding the door so it couldn’t be pushed open further.

“Might I remind you that it’s me you’ve been seeing here the last five years.”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed, trying to see past.

“I thought we had developed a rapport.”

Finally, Roger met Wong’s eyes, his own pleading.

“No, yes, you’re right, we have,” he babbled.

“We’re friends.”

“Yes, of course, we are friends. Definitely.”

“So when is my birthday?”

Roger’s mouth hung open as he searched his brain for a piece of information he knew wasn’t in there. A few seconds later, Wong turned mirthful.

“Did you spend the Blip hiding under a rock where there are no jokes? Come inside. We just got back.”

None of the thousands of times he’d come to the door mattered—Roger hadn’t been inside the Sanctum since that first time. He hoped the Sorcerer remembered him.

When he saw the man, Roger’s steps stuttered. The Sorcerer appeared grim and wiped out. He was dirty and he looked older, though Wong whispered to Roger that the Sorcerer had been among the Snapped. Roger understood that, for something to go right and bring everyone back to life, something else had gone wrong. He could dwell on that and awkwardly bow his way back out of there, or he could convince himself that things had gone wrong for him too, and that he’d like them to be righted. He remembered that his soulmate was a dictator and tried to channel that sense of entitlement.

“What do you know about the Anus?”

The Sorcerer blinked.

“What.” The word came out perfectly flat.

“The Anus.”

“I wasn’t that kind of doctor.”

Roger strode eagerly towards him, hands gesturing before his words caught up.

“When I was here about, um, five and a half years ago, I fell through your magic portal—”

The Sorcerer snapped his fingers in recognition and turned to Wong.

“Oh, that’s who this is. I always wondered what happened to that guy.” He looked at Roger again. “How did you get back to Earth?”

Roger hadn’t been prepared to answer this question, just make his demands, and he began to explain what had happened to him, all out of order. The words ‘orgy ship’ had barely left his mouth when the Sorcerer was waving him into silence. His expression told Roger he was sorry he’d asked.

“So you went through the portal…” he prompted instead.

“That’s right! And for a while, I was just falling. I don’t know where I was.”

The Sorcerer stroked his chin.

“The connection must’ve been unstable. I know—one of your students distracted me.”

“That’d be Flash,” Roger said.

“Jesus. This is why I prefer not to be a field trip destination. Normally, the portal would allow you to pass cleanly through one place and into another.”

“And instead he passed cleanly through the Anus,” Wong summarized.

“…Yeah.”

Roger glanced from one man to the other.

“So,” he said, “could you do it again?”

The Sorcerer stared at him.

“The short answer is no. The long answer is also no, but it contains a great deal of vernacular to do with the Mystic Arts, so I’ll save us both some time.”

The last time Roger had defended his intellect and qualifications had been years ago, and he was out of practice. Anyway, he didn’t want a lengthy debate.

“Can’t you just open a portal and shove me through?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a lot going on today. I’ve only entertained you this long because you and Wong seem to be friends. I’m not just going to mess around to humour you.”

“What if you had to do it?” Roger asked quickly, beginning to feel desperate and preparing to metaphorically jam one of his clumsy feet into the closing window of opportunity.

“Uh, let me think about that,” the Sorcerer droned disinterestedly. “No.”

“What if I attacked you and you opened a portal in self-defence?”

The Sorcerer squinted at him in disbelief and befuddlement.

“What?”

But Roger was already gracelessly throwing his weight into a wild, uncoordinated punch.

For once, he didn’t think critically of himself; he told himself that the Sorcerer’s portal sparked up between them because he was intimidated by Roger’s tenacity. And that it didn’t show a clear destination because the Sorcerer’s reaction speed was no match for Roger using the element of surprise. And that he dove purposely through the portal—on a mission for love and science and the unknown—instead of tumbling into it sideways because the momentum of his unpracticed punch had gotten the better of his balance. It didn’t matter. His feet went out from under him and he was on his way.

Roger had forgotten how intense the trip was, but he completely recalled the rough landing, bouncing down through a stack of the universe’s lost garbage. He shut his eyes to the whooshing and the brightness and braced himself (probably too early, but he didn’t think he could be too careful on this reckless endeavor).

He felt his body hit open air and gasped as he fell, trying to keep his limbs tucked in. The hat he’d been wearing was torn from his head. Didn’t matter; it wouldn’t have offered much protection anyway. At any moment, his poor elbows and knees would be battered by space junk. Between his velocity and his fear of the coming impact, Roger could hardly breathe.

Music. A familiar voice singing, It’s my soulmate! made his eyes fly open. Right in time to land on his back. Whatever was beneath Roger was soft, but he’d still had the wind knocked out of him and was struggling to fill his lungs. His eyes clamped shut as he began to cough.

“I have no idea how you survived that thing twice, but I sure am glad I caught ya.”

Finally sucking in a stronger breath, Roger opened his eyes and looked up. His glasses were askew. Above him was the opening in the ceiling of a hovering spacecraft, but closer than that, leaning over him, was the face of the Grandmaster. He was beaming.

“Any trouble with the Anus?” he asked.

Roger grabbed for the hand his soulmate had rested on his shoulder and moved it to his chest, right over his heart.

“The asshole who got me here will probably be thrilled to never see me again, but the Anus treated me just fine.”

“Ha!” the Grandmaster barked. His free hand lovingly patted Roger’s windblown hair back into place. “Welcome home.”

#my writing #MCU #spider-man #thor: ragnarok #Roger Harrington #En Dwi Gast (the Grandmaster)#their ship name is Mr. Master and they're what G deserves on her birthday

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spideyssunshine · 4 years ago

Note

Hey since I saw that you take requests could you one with Haz kinda where they finally say I love you? It can be steamy if you want 😊

my div

harrison osterfield x fem! reader

wc: 0.7k

warning: just fluff, a few curse words, mention of smut towards the end

summary: in which Harrison admits his love for the reader

:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

You and Harrison laid cuddle up on the couch watching a cute Christmas film. He wanted to get in the mood for Christmas even through it was only mid November. Your hands were wrapped around his toned torso and your head on his broad shoulder. His sandy blond hair was messy just how you liked it, and your (h/c) hair was tied into a messy bun.

Harrison looked at you, fighting the feeling to just tell you how he felt. He realized long ago that he loved you. He had a plan, on your 10 month anniversary to tell you. He hired Sam (and by hired, paid him £20 to make you an extravagant meal), followed by a romantic car ride down by the lake. He imagined it very romantic, he was a ladies man after all. Moon Glistening over the lake, Him dresses up in the new suit Joshua Kane had designed just for this special occasion, and you, looking even more gorgeous then usual. He would wrap you up in his suit coat, because he knew for a fact you would be to stubborn to bring a coat. And then finally, express his feelings to you.

He kissed your head, pushing his plan for the next week to the back of his head, focusing on you, and the film playing on the television. He looked at you, wrapped up in sweat pants- his sweat pants to be specific and a midtown tech sweatshirt from the Homecoming days. You looked up at him, smiled lazily and ruffled his hair.

He grinned and did a Harrison face which made you giggle, and lean back onto his shoulder. Without thinking, he blurted out, “god I love you.”

Your eyes widen, first in shock, then in realization, then in bliss. Harrison immediately realized what he said, faced palmed himself, only to hurt himself with the bridge of his glasses digging into his nose.

“Oh my, (Y/N) I- I, uh, I didn’t mean to- fuck I had this whole stupid plan- I was gonna- well it doesn’t matter now does it- I’m sorry I don’t wanna pressure you I don’t expect you to say anything back I-“ Harrison stammered a long as he fumbled with his hands in his lap. you finally had a enough and put your finger to his pink lips.

“My gosh Harrison please shut up, I swear your turning into Tom.” You said trying not to sound to harsh as you removed your finger from his lips.

“Darling I just, I didn’t want to say you know uh- what I said without you being prepared. I mean look at me” He said pointing to himself. Some champion Sweatpants with no shirt. Hickeys littering his neck from last nights activity’s . “I wanted this to be special you know, it’s a big moment in our relationship.” Harrison said looking kind of disappointed. You noticed this and immediately caressed his cheek.

“Oh baby, Come here.” You said opening your arms as he fell into them. You wrapped him in a loving hug, kissing his messy curls. “I love you too hon.” you said gently as you tightened your grip around his tummy letting you know you mean it.

“Really?!!” Harrison exclaimed, his baby blues lighting up like a lad in a candy store.

“Oh Harrison you big div of course I love you! I’ve loved you since you tripped me in a pile of freezing cold snow. I’ve loved you ever since I laid my eyes on your gorgeous face. I’ve loved you hell ever since we got drunk with the twins and Harry called you an oager and i slapped him in the face and got us kicked out. I loved you then, and I loved you now, and I will love you forever. You may be the biggest div in all of Europe but your my div and I love you for that.” You expressed trying to hold back the tears of your eyes from your new found confidence to show your emotions. Harrison was grinning like he just won the lottery, but he did. He won the lottery of your love.

Harrison immediately kissed you, not hard, but full of passion and affection. You wrapped your arms around his head deepening the kiss. He felt you smile, and he knew, ‘this girls a keeper’

You only pulled away to say, “How about I show you how much I love you?” With a grin and a hint of lust in your eyes. Harrison smirked, nodded his head, and quickly scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fluff

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im-a-simp1 · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Meets The Eye: Part 1: Esmeray

Summary: Y/n goes to Midtown Tech for her first day of school but that is not the only first that happens to her

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Cute awkward teenagers, there are some subtle hints of male dominance(no abuse actually happens but there could be some triggering to people so please beware of that)

*I know I haven’t posted this part in awhile, I just finished finals which were a pain in the butt

Series Materlist

Masterlist

Y/n POV

I take a final look at my outfit for my first day of school at Midtown Tech. It’s been weird that I haven’t been at school for about 5 to 6 months, well my dad says it’s because of my powers. He said that after curing me, it gave me powers as a side effect. I had the ability to poison anything at the touch of my hand. Before I could go anywhere, I needed to learn to control it. I had to learn how to touch things without poisoning them. After months of practicing controlling it, I finally got it under wraps, for the most part. As I looked at the mirror, putting the final touches to my outfit, I was ready. I had my hair curled, wore my favorite oversized crew neck that was a basic dark green crew neck but it was super comfy. I wore my ripped jeans to match with it. With just a light makeup look of some foundation and mascara, I was set. I grabbed my backpack and started making my way down the stairs, my dad meets me at the bottom.

“Are you excited for your first day of school?” He asks

“I am. More importantly I’m ready to get out of the house. I feel myself going crazy looking at the same walls.”

“I know you have been patient and have been working really hard on controlling your powers” I look down at my hands, I am praying that they don’t fail me today. If I mess up, I am most likely never leaving the house ever again.

“Oh speaking of I got something for you” he turns around and grabs a pair of black gloves and hands them to me.

“You're joking right?”

“I’m sorry Y/n but you have to wear them. They are designed to help control your powers. It’s just for safety precautions”

“But dad, no one wears gloves. Everyone is going to think I’m weird and that’s not really the reputation I am going for”

“And no one else else has powers like you do so you are going to wear them even if they aren’t cool” he put air quotations at the last word there.

I groaned at him. I get that he is trying to protect me but this is going to be a problem at school, people are going to ask questions.

“How long do I have to wear gloves for”

“It is just till when I think it is safe enough”. Wait hold on. Um how will he know when he isn’t even there to see if it is “safe”.

“And what will I say if people ask why I wear gloves? Because people will definitely will be asking”

“Just come up with something like oh I don’t know, maybe you burnt your hands recently I don’t know and I don’t care and all I know is that you are wearing the gloves. End of discussion” He said the last part more sterningly. I knew that I wasn’t going to win this argument.

I rolled my eyes and put on the gloves. Thankfully they were actually pretty comfortable, hopefully they stay that way for the rest of the school day. I get them on and my dad and I walk to the car.

“Hey where’s Harry?” I asked Dad

“He is going to a boarding school this year”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it kiddo”

It was odd that Harry was going to boarding school, he is a nice well behaved teen, well it seemed like it, I didn’t really know to be honest. Harry and I barely even talked, Harry didn’t seem like he was a big fan of me. Every time he saw me enter the same room as him he would roll his eyes and walk out of the room and times where he is forced to be in the same room as me, he barely looked or spoke to me. Did I do something that offended him? I know I’m adopted and that I’m not his sister biologically but he acts like he disgusts me. Even if I had done anything to him I wouldn't have remembered. Dad said that when he cured me, apparently one of the side effects was that I don’t have any recollection of my long term memory before waking up in a chamber. Another side effect was that when I touch things, they die. I hate it so much, I couldn’t touch anything for the longest time. When I touched a plant, it died. When a butterfly landed on my hand when it flew into my room, it died. I even almost killed someone because I forgot about it and went to shake someone’s hand once but thankfully my dad stopped me. After months of learning how to control my powers, I got it under control, for the most part. Sometimes I lose my focus and slip up. I hate when slip up happens. Not only do I get mad at myself but my father gets mad at me too, which is ten times worse. Maybe it is a good thing to wear these gloves, I don't want people to think that I am going to kill them with the touch of my hands. Dad’s chauffeur, George, met us at the car. He opened the door for my dad and I and we got in. I was fortunate to live in a home that was wealthy enough to help me save from my sickness and have resources to help me control my powers. We were silent the majority of the time as Geroge was driving us to my school.

“Hey Dad, you talk about how I had this sickness when you cured me, which I am grateful for but what was my sickness again”

He turns his head slowly towards me and looks at me for a moment. I can see the deliberation in his eyes.

“It was a rare disease that they had recently discovered. With it being recently discovered, the doctors had no cure for it, that is when I took on the challenge. I created the cure but it came with some big sacrifices.” He took my hands into his. I knew what the sacrifices were, he didn’t need to tell me.

“Thank you, for telling me and saving me”

“Of course, anything for you” He leans and kisses me on my temple. We pull up to the front of the school. As I was about to get out of the car, my dad grabbed my arm stopping me before I could get out.

“Oh and Y/n, one more thing”

“Yeah what is it?”

“People can’t know that I am your father”

“And why is that?”

“Let’s just say that kids would treat you very differently if they found out that you were my daughter”

“But I have always been your daughter, won’t people have already known that? I know I may not remember but they will. I mean didn’t do junior high with them?”

“Y/n we moved here not too long before you got sick. So no one who you are because you didn’t grow up with them or that you are my daughter.”

“So no one knows that I am a daughter of a multi millionaire?”

“Nope” he said with a little too much joy from what I saw. “Your new last name is y/l/n. I have already taken care of your records at the schools office. Trust me you don’t want people knowing I’m your dad. It’s for the best.”

“And why is that?” I questioned him, wanting a more specific answer. I have always gotten vague answers from him whenever I ask questions and I am getting sick of it.

“Someday you will know why but for now people can’t know okay?” His grip on my arm gets a little bit more strong.

“Okay fine. I won’t” I rip my arm out from him. I exit the car before he can tell me anything else I can or can not do, the do’s and don’ts list keeps becoming bigger and bigger.

“Have a good day!” He shouts as the car leaves.

I turn around to face the school. All of a sudden my nerves kick in all at once. I am going into this big new school. Knowing that I will be the new girl that has no friends, no guidance. I hoped that Harry could give me, obviously that didn’t work out. Even if he was here I don’t know if he would help me. He would have been nice enough to at least tell me where the office was but no he wasn’t here. I entered the school and was immediately overwhelmed with how many students there were. It seemed that people were constantly bumping into each other as they passed people in the hallway. I looked around to see any kind of guidance of where to go and saw a sign that said office with an arrow sign right next to it. Well that’s a good start.

Peter’s POV

I was walking with Ned through the crowded hallways on our way to our first class.

“How was your weekend” Ned asked

“It was alright, didn’t do a whole lot. Just homework and stopping criminals” I smiled. Even though Ned accidentally found out about my secret, it has been nice to talk to someone about it.

“I heard, the robbery you saved was all over the news.”

He replied as we were stepping into our class. I didn’t even get 3 steps into the class when Mr. Harrington stopped me.

“Peter I need you to go to the office for me. There is a new student today and you have been asked to guide them today.”

“Isn’t that like an ASB president job or something? ”Mr. Harrington looked at Peter confused, with the comment that was so not like Peter.

“It’s not that I am trying to be rude or anything I really not but I’m not the best person to show people around the school.” Plus I really don’t need someone to tagging along with me watching my every move, I am fearful enough that someone else is going to figure out my secret.

“Well that is true, about the ASB part, and maybe a little on you not being the best guide but they have most of their classes with you and I have already volunteered you so you have to do it” Mr. Harrington replied.

Great.

I walked out of the classroom and made my way down to the office, the hallway was getting less crowded with people slowly entering their classrooms. As I was making my way down, I realized that Mr. Harrington said the new student had most of my classes, not all. As long as we don’t have chemistry together, we will be okay. I needed to make web shooters today and that wasn’t going to happen if the new student was nearby, watching my every move. As I entered the office, I was greeted by the receptionist.

“What brings you in here today?” The lady said with a very monotone voice not even looking up at me.

“Um hi, I am here to show the new student-“

“Peter!” The principal came around the corner, catching me a little off guard.

“Principal Morita! You scared me there for a second.”

“Oh sorry about that Peter. Anyway I wanted to introduce you to our new student y/n y/l/n.”

Oh. My. God.

I was speechless. Noises around me were drained out as I stared at her. She is one if not the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She has the most beautiful y/e/c, they literally sparkle and y/h/l y/h/c is gorgeous soft looking hair I have ever seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I started to hear faint noises that were trying to catch my attention.

“Peter… Peter are you with us” was I heard from Principal Morita that caused me to snap back to reality.

“Um yeah I um I’m here” looking at the principal to clarify that he was with them. I can feel the redness growing on my cheeks. Great.

“Good I thought we lost you there for a second” he chuckled as I felt my face turn even more red than before. I realized I haven’t even talked to her yet.

“Um yeah sorry I haven’t introduced myself I’m Peter Parker” as I reach my hand out to shake her hand.

“Hi Peter, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you” as she reaches for my hand, she seemed a little hesitant at first but once we made our hands touch she seemed to be relieved. I noticed that she was wearing gloves which I thought were old but it seemed inappropriate to ask her about it right now.

“It’s nice to meet you t-too” he starts to stubble on his words. This usually happens when he gets nervous.

“So um shall we get to class? I think classes may have started” she more asked then stated.

“Oh yes you two go on, don’t want to be more last then you already are” Principal Morita says as he is shooing is out of his office.

“I g-guess we shall,” I replied as we start walking to class.

“So um y/n what classes do you have?” I asked

“Um let’s see” as she pulls out her class schedule. I looked over to see what her schedule looks like to see that we don’t have chemistry together.

Well that’s good.

“So it looks like we have every class but chemistry together”

“Oh okay. So we have calculus right now with Mr. Harrington?”

“Yes you are correct”

“How is he, you know, as a person and a teacher”

“He’s um, a nice guy. I little oblivious but he’s nice”

“How so?”

“Well one time we decided to pull a prank on him and we changed his computer screensaver to a Bernie Sanders meme where he was sitting on the bench and apparently Mr. Harrington didn’t even notice it till the next day.” I guess it was pretty funny to her because I see her start laughing about it. She has the cutest laugh.

“Oh my god that is so funny. He didn’t notice till the next day?!” She says as she is laughing even more.

“Yep. Told you he is oblivious”

“Yeah sounds like it”

We arrived at our first class and all of the eyes of the class shifted to us as we entered the room.

“Ah welcome! Everyone this is our new student…” he waits for her to say her name. She realizes what the teacher was doing after a couple of awkward moments.

“Oh it’s y/n, y/n y/l/n”

“Welcome y/n, go ahead and take a seat”. Unfortunately the last two spots in the class were not next to each other so you guys couldn’t sit next to each other. I sat at the desk that was more towards the back where she sat more towards the middle of the room, then I realized she was sitting in the middle of the room, rightfully so. She has this appearance of her that makes her glow. It wasn’t necessary her looks, well she was gorgeous, but it was more about the way she carried herself. She was confident, happy, and seemed to be joyful all round. Peter really hoped to get to know her more. Even if this stupid little crush didn’t go anywhere he still wanted to be her friend. He found himself looking at you more than paying attention to what Mr. Harrington was saying. With that said he realized that looking at you this long was probably creepy but he was just caught up on how beautiful you are. He was snapped back to reality when the bell rang ending the class. He grabbed his things and walked over to y/n who just finished collecting her things and putting them into her backpack.

“Ready for our next class?” I asked her

“Yeah, what’s next again?”

“Spanish” I replied as we started to class

“Peter! Wait up!” Peter hears a familiar voice behind him. He honestly forgot that Ned was in their last class.

“Oh hey Ned! Ned, this is y/n and y/n this is Ned. He’s my best friend”

“Nice to meet you Ned” y/n shook Ned’s hand

“You too! I’m sorry if I sound rude but why are you wearing gloves?” Peter looked at Y/n’s hands to see what Ned was talking about. Peter took another look at her gloves and found them rather odd. They weren’t your average cotton gloves, they seemed to be custom made, expensive gloves.

“Oh yeah um I was in a house fire and my hands got burned really bad. That’s kinda why my dad, my brother, and I moved. Though my brother is at boarding school so it is just my dad and I now. My hands are currently healing right now from it but I have to wear there’s gloves till they are fully healed”

“Well I’m glad you are okay. What’s your next class?”

“Spanish”

“Oh cool okay I got to go to English but I will meet up with you guys at lunch” Ned’s tone was more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah sounds great Ned” I replied to him. I wasn’t going to force y/n to sit with us at lunch so I answered more for myself. She might make some friends before then and would rather sit with them than us.

“See you at lunch Ned!” She shouted at him as he was heading to English

Not too long afterward we started to walk to class and she spoke, “Ned seems really nice”

“Yeah he is. He can’t keep a secret to keep his life but yeah he is a great guy”

“You both seem like nice guys” I smiled with a slight chuckle.

“Thanks,” I reply. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t Ned and didn’t call me ‘penis parker’. I really do hope y/n and I become good friends.

It was lunchtime and y/n, Ned, and I were sitting at the cafeteria getting to know each other well more of Ned and I getting to know Y/n and Y/n getting to know us. She was kinda vague about her background, just that she was in a house fire and that her family moved here recently but I didn’t press onto it, I didn’t want to push a subject that she seemed she didn’t want to talk about. She also talked about how she got really sick and how her father was able to cure her before doctors could, apparently her doctors gave up on trying to cure her but her dad didn’t and was able to. Which is quite impressive for a new disease that was just discovered.

“Wow that’s amazing! How was he able to do it?”

“Well um he never really told me what he gave me but it worked and I didn’t question it. If it works it works.”

“And what was it actually? How did the disease affect you?” I asked.

“Well um, I kinda really don’t know, I lost some memory during that time which was one of the side effects of the cure. My dad didn’t really say to be honest. I think he just likes to forget how painful it was for him”. This just seemed weird. Her dad seemed very vague with her.

“Well enough about me, what about you guys? What do you guys like to do for fun?” You could tell she was done talking about herself

“Well we-” I started out, trying to think of something cool.

“We do a lot of Star Wars stuff,” Ned said confidently, interrupting me.

“Dude, come on” I turned to Ned in disbelief he just said that to a girl he wanted to impress. Most girls run the other direction when they start talking about Star Wars.

“I... love... Star Wars”

We turned to look at her in awe. We never encountered a girl who liked Star Wars. To my surprise, it seemed that she looked surprised with herself. I don’t know what she was confused about.

“You like Star Wars?” I wanted a clarification that I heard her right.

“Yeah...Yeah I do like Star Wars” she sounded like she was giving herself clarification.

“Hey well if you want to you don’t have to but do you want to come over and build the millennial falcon together? I just got it for Christmas and haven’t built it yet”

“Peter what about the Stark internship?” Ned bogging me in the gut, causing me to release a small groan from him just elbowing me in the side. Ned loons I’ve to me and tries to whisper to me under his breath so that only I could hear him. I reassured Ned of my plan.

“Do have that today but afterward, maybe around 6:30ish? Y/n would you be down for that?”

“Um yeah I would. Would you guys give me a second I need to go to the bathroom” she got up before we could say anything to her. I hope she is okay, I could tell her heart was beating a little faster then before.

Y/n POV

I just needed to get away for a moment, I just had the weirdest moment of my life happen to me. I have never heard of let alone talk about Star Wars till today. When Ned mentioned Star Wars, I had this rush of memories come back to my head of Star Wars and what it was about. And not only my knowledge of it but the emotions I had for it. It all rushed to me. I have never had this happen to me before. I just knew I felt overwhelmed and just needed to get away for a moment to take it all in. Was my long term memory coming back? If that is what this is, which is what I am hoping for, I will get my long term memories back which will be great, I would get to feel like me again. Not remembering my past has made me feel like I just appeared out of nowhere. It made me feel like I was a robot, with no background. But after this gave me hope of getting back to the way things used to be. I headed back to the cafeteria where Peter and Ned still were, you were glad you got lucky to meet Peter and Ned on your first day here. You knew you would be grey friends with them from here on out. Plus Peter wasn’t too bad to look at. He gets so cute when he gets nervous. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have him as my guide for school today. All of a sudden, your hands felt the urge to touch something, with your bare hands. You had to push this feeling down for now. The powers like to have a mind of their own but I had better control than that. Taking deep breaths and focusing on anything besides your hands was the way to settle the urge. I started to think about how I had plans with my new friends that invited me to go build a ship from a franchise that you all of sudden fell in love with. You were excited to have friends in general. Dad has always kept me from others so I didn’t really talk to a whole lot of people, really him and Harry, well only if Harry takes to me. But I was glad to have friends who liked me, at least I thought they liked me. No had had to think positive thoughts and only positive thoughts to keep the urge away. Yes they do like me or they would have not invited me over, they do like me, they do like me, they do like me. It was what I told myself as the urge started to go away, for now. Thankfully I got rid of it in time once I was fully returned to the urge. The bell rang for lunch to be over.

“Well I will see you guys tonight?” Ned asked. Again clarifying if we were on the same page.

“Yes see you tonight at Peters!”

The school day was officially done. I had gotten Peter’s number after last class together for him to text me the address to his apartment. The last class of the day, the only class I didn’t have with Peter, was lonely. Just with me being so nervous and being my first day, Peter just brought this comfort essence that made me feel okay. But now without him, it wasn’t the same. No one was as welcoming as him, this girl in the corner drew a picture of me saying that she draws people who look like they don’t belong, which was weird but kinda oddly charming at the same time but it was weird. Once the day was done I checked my phone to see if my dad texted saying if he was here to pick me up, to be honest I didn’t know if he was going to text me. Fortunately he texted me, unfortunately he said I had to walk home. I groaned at the text message. Thankfully it was only a 20-30 minute walk from the school to the apartment but still you really weren’t in the mood for walking. Eventually arriving at the apartment you walk in and see my dad cutting up lettuce, from the looks of it getting dinner ready. Wait why couldn’t he pick me up? But I knew better than to ask. You didn’t feel like getting into an argument right now.

“Hey dad”

“Hey honey how was school?”

“It was good, I made some friends!” I said with a little bit more excitement than before.

“Oh that’s great honey” although he didn’t seem to really mean it. He hasn’t even looked up at you since you walked in and his tone was dull. He didn’t really seem like he cared.

“I’m going to my room to do some homework”

“Alright dinner will be around 5:00”

Once dinner time rolled around, we were quiet for the most part. We made some small talk but never turned into a conversation. I was going to tell him about the weird emotional moment I had today but after the way he was acting today I didn’t really want to tell him. Around 6I started to get ready to go to Peter’s. I figured I would leave around 6:30 to go to his place seeing that it would take me about 30 minutes to get there. 6:30 rolls around and I start to head out. My dad was on the couch when I was heading toward the door.

“Bye dad I’m off to my friends?”

“Excuse me what?!” He looked up from his newspaper to look at me.

“My friend invited me to go over and hangout. Don’t worry I will be back before 10”

“Y/n it is a school night”

“But I will be back around 10, having me plenty of sleep for school tomorrow”

“You are not going”

“Why not?” Getting frustrated at this point. You have never really had friends before and now that you have and you want to hangout with them, you dad decides to say no, after not letting me see people for months!

“Because I said so” he said with his firm dad voice. But you weren’t going down without a fight this time.

“No you need to give me a reason”

“I don’t need to give you anything”

“For the first time in months I found people who like me and want to be around me and you say I can’t see them just because you said so? Yeah no I’m sorry I will see you at 10 then you can ground me” I turned to the door and as I grab the handle I feel this electricity go through me. Then I felt nothing, everything went silent, and everything went black.

3rd POV

“Raise Esmeray” Norman spoke once Y/n body was still. As Y/n’s alter ego was turned on by his simple words, her eyes opened and she stood up from where she had fallen. Once she was standing she was standing tall there, waiting for her commands to be given from her master.

“I am ready for further instruction sir”

“Good. Now the real reason why I couldn’t let you go was that I need you for tonight, I need you to hit a target for me tonight. Tonight I need you to visit an old friend of mine that owes me money. If he does not have it” he stopped as he removed Esmeray’s gloves “touch his throat with your hands. If he does have it, make sure he gives it to you and then touch his throat with your hands. Do not leave the target till he has died”

“Yes sir” had been Esmeray’s response. It didn’t even sound like Y/n at this point. It sounded like a robot that took over her.

“Now go get ready, once you are I will give you the name”

Esmeray just nodded and went to go change for her mission.

- Thank you so much for waiting so patiently. I was finishing up finals this week and I plan to post part 2 later in the week!

- In the future chapters when y/n is in their alter ego stage where Norman has control over, I’m going to reference them as Esmeray.

Esmeray means dark moon btw🌑

-Thanks for reading 😊💖

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman fic #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #series #part 1 #part 1 of many #esmeray #more than meets the eye #part 2 coming soon

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