#tasm peter parker x oc!mj

[liz-allyn]

cw: real life tragedy, immediately followed by fake spiciness

It’s been a long time since I posted anything original. But I’m trying.

I have a ridiculously long peter x honey smut tale about 90% complete. I started writing it in July. Real life is getting in the way.

A friend of mine died a week before Halloween.

My dog died three days after my birthday.

My family’s dog died on Christmas.

Almost a week ago, I found out that my estranged biological mother passed away in a hospice clinic. A medical examiner gave me the news six days after she died. I think the last time I spoke to her was 2017.

All this is to say, I’m having a rough time. That’s a shit ton of unfortunately timed trauma.

But I’m still here, trying to get through one day at a time. One paragraph at a time.

Speaking of which, a sneaky peaky… please enjoy.

@sincericida @moonyslove78 @blooming-violets @withahappyrefrain @mrshipsmcgee @rae-gar-targaryen @p3mybeloved @drew-garfi

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. She was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him.

Her hands then went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving red trails on his creamy skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss. Her teeth tore at his lips, and he groaned into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backwards a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the gap they created. An eerie calm settled over them, like the barometric pressure plunging right before a storm.

Honey blinked at him owlishly, mouth open and her palm throbbing.

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess; hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin. His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dapped his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquiste lines of his face were stained pastel pink. His eyes were black as night.

Peter watched her, pupils dialating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

[mjmikaelson]

POLIN MODERN AU — SPIDERMAN🕷️

— Colin Parker and Penelope Watson

[multiverseprincesswatching]

i really wanna write but I'm like super sensitive to criticism and am an attention whore so like- what do I do? where do I start?

[gredandforgeweatherby]

The Girl One Floor Below

Marilyn Jean

series masterlist

Summary: Peter is awkward while trying to talk to Marilyn

WC: .9k

Warnings: talk of Gwen, kinda rushed writing

Authors Note: I know it's been forever but I was so blocked on this story. Hopefully this short chapter will help me!

Peter hadn’t seen Marilyn again.

Granted, it had only been six days since he had helped her move in. He was sure she was up to her neck in unpacked boxes and messily placed items; he knew he was when he moved in. Hell, Peter's apartment had been filled with boxes for a month after he had first moved in, him not being able to find time to unpack between his new job at the bugle, wallowing in self-pity, his spider-man duties, and trying to maintain his own survival. He knew it would take some time for her to settle in and maybe, he thought, he could be of assistance.

You know, to be neighborly.

But Peter just could not gain the courage to knock on her door and once again offer his help. Each time the idea would pop into his head, his own mind would give him a reason as to why he shouldn’t, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his mind was right.

Another eight days had passed (no, Peter totally wasn’t counting) and he still hadn’t talked to her. Not only that, but he hadn’t seen her at all. He knew it was irrational for him to worry, as the amount of time he spent passing between the halls and lobby was very small, but still, he was. I mean, had she even left her apartment? When Peter was moving in he wanted to be in his apartment as little as possible, but that might just be his wish to not be alone with his thoughts combined with the procrastination to not unpack. Still, he was worried that this girl he had met already found a terrible end because of her acquaintanceship with him. 

Could he call them acquaintances?

Anyway, Peter was worried that the woman had met her end just because she met him.

This worry was what finally got Peter one floor below.

He found himself in front of apartment 3C, slightly jittery, building up the strength to raise his fist and knock. Finally, he found himself quietly rapping on the door, part of him hoping it was too quiet for her to hear or that she wasn’t home but was soon face to face with her.

“Oh, hey Peter. How’re doing?” She greeted him with a smile.

“I'm doing great, I actually came by to see how you were doing. You know, settling in and everything?”

The small she greeted him with widened a bit before she answered. “Yeah. It’s a little annoying to unpack, there’s a huge part of me that to just say “That’s future me's problem” and stop but,” she paused, shrugging her shoulders and clicking her tongue, “unfortunately I really can’t.”

With that information swimming around his head, Peter spoke. But, it seemed his mouth and brain were detached, as the words that spilled out of his mouth were not in his head, and like his speech had a mind of its own.

“Well, I could help…” Peter trailed off realizing what came out of his mouth. “... if you want. I could help if you want.” Peter wanted to smash his head into the wall.

“I appreciate that, but I was actually gonna turn in for the day, get cleaned up, maybe eat something, but thank you,” Marilyn replied, a slight chuckle escaping her lips at the look on Peter’s face. She had a small feeling he didn’t mean to offer his help.

Yeah,” Peter started nodding his head (maybe a bit too rapidly). “Yeah okay, well, uh, you’re welcome. The offer will stand tomorrow, and the day after, just,” he paused, trying not to ramble while Marilyn stood in front of him with a small smile dancing on her lips, “You know where to find me.”

Marilyn nodded, “I do, thank you, Peter. I appreciate it.”

Bidding her a quick goodbye, Peter made his way back up to his apartment. Once inside, he stooped his head, heaving a quick sigh at himself before moving toward the kitchen.

───────────────────────────────────────────

A few days had passed since Peter offered his help. Part of him was a bit sad she hadn’t come up to his apartment and asked for it, while another part was a bit grateful. After that interaction, Peter stood at his kitchen counter for a few minutes, staring down at it and zoning out. He replayed their conversation in his head, cringing at how he responded. He had certainly lost his touch.

It wasn't that Peter ever really knew how to talk to girls, he just wasn’t the suave man that was able to seduce a woman. He was charming and charismatic, he knew that because if he wasn’t he never would have been able to get with Gwen.

Gwen.

After Gwen, Peter lost whatever touch he had. He had gone on about three dates since her death, and any time he’s tried to talk to a girl he failed to do so. He flubs, and stutters, and says things that he didn’t even think were floating around in his head. Marilyn was just another example of that.

Peter shook his head to clear his thoughts, though when that didn’t work he went with something he knew would. He rushed to his room and hastily stripped himself of his clothes before quickly putting on his suit–well, as quickly as one could pull on a spandex suit while also beginning to sweat from the sudden movement and exertion. Pushing up his window and climbing onto the fire escape, he swung into action, thanking the universe that he had the day off.

Taglist:

@whatareyouhidingpeter

[railingsofsorrow]

RAILINGSOFSORROW'S FIC RECS (0.2)

2nd part of the recommendation list from my fav fics! (i had to split in two because tumblr was being a nightmare) have it in mind that they can either be on tumblr or ao3.

the (+) means it has a smut masterlists: [0.1] [0.2]

↯

━━ OBX 

↬ little village by @thegreatestofheck (jj x routhledge!oc) 

best thing that's ever happened to me.

↬ whipped by @ptersparkers (jj x reader) 

↬ wake by @obxsummer (jj x reader) 

↬ aftermath by @maybaenk (jj x reader) 

↬ once a cheater... by @sl-ut (s.cameron x fem!kook!reader; t.thornton x platonic!reader) 

↬ lucky by @↑ (k.carrera x f!reader) 

↬ two of the same by @jjmaybud (k.carrera x f!reader) 

i, too, want to get married with kiara carrera.

↬ skin by @↑ (p.heyward x reader) 

↬ kie loves you... but you're not hers by @infictionalwonderland (k.carrera x f!reader; jj x f!reader)  

↬ angels like you by @cryonme (p.heyward x reader) 

↬ the 7 times he realises he loves you by @fandomtravels (I can't tag this acc :/ it's glitching) (r.cameron x reader) 

彡 

━━ MCU 

↬ one heart by @ichorai (tasm!single parent!p.parker x single parent! x reader) (major angst!) 

ok so I stumbled upon this while I was in class and I was bored so I thought let's give it a go until I get to go home. terrible idea because I was holding my cries, can you believe it? this fic stole my heart and it's so well-written, I don't think there's anything like it, it talks about loss and grieving in the most realistic way possible, I almost felt inserted into the story. plz go read it it will be so worth it.

↬ on thin ice by @leahsficemporium (peter parker x reader)

learning how to skate with peter <3

↬ like slow-slipping redemption by artist_artists (ao3) (tasm!p.parker × male mj) 

I don't understand how this one doesn't have more recognition. I was craving for a bi!peter fic and I found it's the best piece of work I've read, it played with my emotions and left me of the edge of my seat. it's set on a post-no way home universe and it features tasm!peter x male mj. it's a happy ending!!! plus it's not long, only 3 chapters.

↬ getting old by @kiss-inthekitchen (husband!tasm!p.parker x reader)  

↬ peter parker can't flirt by @curseofaphrodite (tasm!p.parker x marauder!reader)

it's a crossover btw marauders era + the amazing spiderman universe.

彡

━━ TVD/T.O 

↬ apotheosis by atriums (klaus mikaelson x reader) 

it's finished and it has a sequel called alkaline.

↬ familia supra omnia by IAMiniquity (poly!mikaelsons x oc) (currently being updated) 

the best thing I've read in the originals universe, spent less than month reading it and I keep craving for more.

↬ treading on thin ice by @fitzs-trained-monkey (kol mikaelson x reader)

they write the best kol fics istg.  

↬ wasteland, baby! by trustsalvatore (kol mikaelson x oc) 

incomplete since 2020 :(((

彡

↬ coming home by @acourtofwhatthefuck (azriel x reader) (series)

━━ MISC 

↬ troublemaker by @itsapeterthing (druig x avenger!reader)  

I will tell you one thing: I wasn't into a court of thorns and roses until I stumbled upon this one. yk when the writing grips you and chains you in a way that you can't leave? that's what happened to me. I was so addicted I read this whole series in three days at most. then I proceeded to read all of their work, you should do the same, you won't regret it it's so good. 

↬ resident healer by @15-dogs (newt scamander x reader)  

↬ no one knows by @pillow-titties (billy russo x reader) +

↬ no one knows p.2 by @↑ + 

↬ by your side by @alaynes-writings (paul atreides x reader)  

↬ stormy nights by @marvelmusing (aleksander mozorova x reader)  

[prettylittlewrites]

Time Aligns

TASM!Peter Parker x OC

Returning back to his universe after leaving his new found brothers Peter was hopeful. But nothing changed. Gwen was still gone, Harry was still in custody, the bad guys hadn’t been fixed. Nothing had changed. But what if time was finally aligning in his universe to match the other Peters?

It had been a week since Peter had returned home from the other universe. It had been a week since he left the other Peter’s at the Statue of Liberty after curing all of the villains. Peter had come back with the hope that it would be different now that Maxx and Dr. Connors had been cured and maybe Gwen was alive and waiting for him in his little one-bedroom apartment in Queens.

But that wasn’t the case. Everything and everyone was exactly how he left them. The only difference was he didn’t feel the weight on his chest anymore. The crushing pressure since he lost Gwen, was lighter.

It wasn’t fully gone. It never would be. Losing your first love, feeling, and hearing their heart stop, he would always carry that with him.

But he felt lighter, he had been able to save MJ. His little brother's first love. He had been able to save her in a way he hadn’t been able to save his own. He felt like he could finally move on. He finally felt closure after 8 years.

He went back to patrolling the streets. Pulling his punches as he put away criminals, his wit had come back full force and he was back to having a skip in his step whenever something good happened. He was beginning to feel normal again.

It was around 2 am when Peter stumbled into a 24/7 coffee shop. His jaw a bruising red and his knuckles slightly raw from stopping a burglary just up the street but they would heal in an hour or two.

The coffee shop was deserted besides one girl behind the bar and a cook in the back. The soft jazz music played in the background and the yellow stained lights gave the quiet shop a warm, cozy feeling. One that Peter desperately needed, as the winter storm raged on outside.

The girl behind the counter looked up, her eyes drifted to him from the textbook on the counter. Peter nodded his head as he strolled up to the cash register as the girl slid behind it on the other side.

Peter took a second to run his eyes over the girl. She was younger than him, at least by a couple of years. She was on the shorter and curvier side. She had brown almost black hair that stopped at her shoulders and bright blue eyes. She was cute, and her friendly smile caused him to smile back despite the aching of his jaw.

“Hey Honey, what can I get ya.” Her slight southern accent startled him, he was used to the distinct accent of New York and New Jersey so hearing the draw of a southerner had him blinking at the girl for a split second.

“Uh, just a, just a cup of coffee, please. Black.” Peter stuttered as he nodded his head and tapped his fingers on the counter.

“Okay. That’ll be $3.48. Can I get a” The girl trailed off abruptly. Almost like she was about to say something she shouldn’t have. Peter smiled slightly nodding his head and pulled out a crumpled $5 from the front pocket of his backpack.

“Peter” he gave her a knowing look and her cut off of her memorized check out script. “and ah, Keep the change.” His eyes flew to the name tag on her apron. “Maddison.” The girl smiled brightly at him in thanks for not making her muscle memory awkward, as she got to work on his coffee. Peter took a step back and let his eyes run over the quaint place.

The booths looked slightly lumpy but there were outlets stationed at every table, and posters for Columbia, Empire State, NYU, FIT, Juilliard, and just about every college in the state of New York hung on the walls. The coffee bar wasn’t far from NYU so Peter assumed it was a popular study spot.

Peter quickly pulled out his cracked phone from his back pocket and sent off a quick message to Aunt May letting her know he was done with his route for the night and would be back in his apartment soon.

“Peter, Your coffee is ready” Maddison called out softly pushing a red paper cup on the counter towards him. Peter quickly grabbed the cup and took a seat on one of the many bar stools that overlooked where they made the coffee. Maddison whipped up the counter before pulling her textbook over to where she was standing in front of Peter.

“What are you studying?” Peter asked as his eyes caught sight of a color-coded diagram of the human brain.

“Oh, well this is for my Child Developmental class. But I’m Majoring in Psychology, and minoring in Criminal Justice. I’m a senior at NYU.” Maddison responded, tapping her blue highlighter against her book. Secretly relieved for an excuse to not study. Peter felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Well, I think you are in the right city for criminal justice,” Peter muttered as he took a sip of his coffee, allowing the scalding liquid to burn his tongue and throat.

Maddison chuckled lightly and opened up her mouth to respond when the sound of a bang startled both Peter and Maddison. Both heads whipped towards the front door and as it burst open and a baby-faced boy walked in.

“Maddison!” the boy yelled with a wide smile on his face.

“Thomas,” Maddison called back, significantly less excited. As the boy made his way over to the kitchen door disappeared, scoffing and rolling his eyes dramatically as he went.

Peter gave Maddison a look but she just rolled her eyes and shook her head. There was a loud clatter from the back followed by yelled cursing.

“Ignore him. He likes the attention, the more you give him the worse he gets. He’s a bit of a drama queen.” Maddison looked at Peter with a small smile on her lips. Peter smirked in return hearing the boy's dramatic gasp from the back before bursting through the doors.

“How dare you call me a drama Queen! I react a perfectly fine amount of drama!” He declared with an appalled look on his face. “And I’ve told you before, I don’t like my government name MJ.” He popped back into the back before sticking his head out again. “Also I’m covering for Luke btw little Addy’s first day of daycare is today.” Thomas disappeared back into the back again for good. Clocking in and beginning to work on breakfast prep.

The nickname MJ rang loud in Peter’s ears. His mind flashes back to the Younger and Older Peter. Both of them had an MJ. Was this his MJ?

“Sorry about him.” Maddison blushed slightly, looking apologetic before turning back to her book.

“MJ?” Peter finally gained the courage to question the brunette, his face had gone pale and his words sounded choked up.

“Yeah. It’s my nickname. There were like 5 Maddisons in my kindergarten class. My middle name is June. Being one of the last letters in the alphabet all the other girls got to pick the cute nicknames. I didn’t wanna be called June or my last name Walker so my teacher suggested MJ. And it’s stuck ever since then.” She explained, her eyes distant as she reminisced on her younger years. But Peter couldn’t stop his mind from running into overdrive.

Was this supposed to be his version of MJ? Or was it just a coincidence? Was he meant to be with her, all the other Peters were in love with their MJs. But there also wasn’t a 4 or 5 year age gap with them.

Peter began to feel panic at the thought of being in another relationship. Sure it had been 8 years and he’s had a couple flings, but nothing serious. Besides Aunt May and the other Peter’s he really didn’t have anyone. Not even a best friend anymore. Not after Harry at least. He couldn’t afford to trust people like that anymore. The panic caused him to convince himself to leave abruptly.

“I like it. MJ is cool.” Peter half-smiled at the girl chugging the rest of his lukewarm coffee before standing up. “It was nice meeting you MJ. But I gotta get home. Have a nice night.”

“You too Peter!” MJ waved goodbye at the slightly older man and cleared his cup from the counter. Peter waved goodbye before stepping out into the freezing New York air. His mind stuck only on Maddison and her infamous nickname.

[dancingsunflowers-ocs]

𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙋𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝘽𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙨

Disney's Descendants ✸ Kimberley Bjorgman

-Daughter of Anna x Kristoff (Frozen)

-Mal Bertha Love Interest

-Autumn Aesthetic; her fashion embraces the cozy and warm elements of the season

-Loves hot chocolate!!

-Clumsy and Reckless; like her mother!!

-Has a pet husky named Oakley

The Young Girls of Rochefort ✸ Clara Blanchet

-Yes!! I'm now creating ocs for Niche fandoms/characters haha!! (I've been obsessing over this French musical… so I decided to make an oc for it)

-Maxence Love Interest

-Works as a waitress in a cafe/bakery in Paris

-Dreams of becoming an actress

-Soft, sweet-natured and romantic, but don't get on the wrong side of her!!

The Amazing Spider-Man ✸ Clio Andersen

-Clio’s TASM counterpart

-Peter Parker Love Interest (obviously!!)

-Brotp with Michael ‘MJ’ Jones (see what I did there 😉) and Gwen Stacy

-Journalist with dreams of becoming a doctor

-Sassy yet sweet, academic, and traditionally feminine

[findroleplay]

21+. She/Her. Looking for some Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) roleplays with a big desire for Daredevil at the moment (note: I'm in the process of watching that show and am almost finished with season 2).

I can write on Discord or through Tumblr messages. I like to plot on Tumblr but, if that's a no-go for you, we can move over to Discord sooner. I write in third person, past tense. My usual length is 2-4 paragraphs. Sometimes more. Rarely less. It all depends on how much I have to work with. I can't guarantee daily replies because I work full-time during the week. My usual response time is ~2-3 days. I like communicative writing partners. That means, when we're plotting, I'd like to hear back within 2-3 days so plotting doesn't take weeks to do. When writing, I'm fine with as little as one reply a week. Ideal wait time, though, is no more than 3-5 days. If it's going to take you longer to get back to me, please let me know. I'll do the same.

I'm mostly interested in canon x canon pairings (MxM or MxF). I might be talked into some canon x OC ones (MxM only). I like canon or canon divergent plots the most or straying off the path with our own unique plots that still fit well within the Marvel universe. I lean towards romantic ships and writing smut. Those aren't requirements, however. If we keep things clean, I'm okay with writing with 18+. If you'd like smut, please be 21+.

All characters will be 18+!

I'll be listing the characters I'm most interested in writing as (there are more I can write) and some of my favorite ships. I'm open to discussing others.

For the ships: Bold = I'd like to write as that character ; Italics = I have a slight preference for that character ; Nothing = No preference

My Muses:

Bruce Banner

Bucky Barnes

Eddie Brock

Frank Castle

Harry Osborn (James or Dane's versions)

Helmut Zemo

Loki Laufeyson

Matt Murdock

Nathan Summers/Cable

Norman Osborn (Dafoe!Norman only)

Peter Parker (Andrew!Peter only)

Tony Masters/Taskmaster

Tony Stark

Vladimir Ranskahov

Wade Wilson

Yon-Rogg

My Favorite Ships:

Bruce x Loki

Bruce x Tony

Bruce x Thor

Bruce x Natasha

Bucky x Zemo

Bucky x Steve

Eddie x Andrew!Peter

Eddie x Wade

Eddie x Venom

Frank x Matt

Frank x Karen

James!Harry x Tobey!Peter

Dane!Harry x Andrew!Peter

Loki x Taskmaster

Loki x Wade

Loki x Mobius

Loki x Thor

Matt x Andrew!Peter

Matt x Taskmaster

Matt x Wade

Matt x Vladimir

Matt x Foggy

Matt x Wade x Andrew!Peter

Matt x Elektra

Cable x Wade

Norman x Otto

Andrew!Peter x Taskmaster

Andrew!Peter x Wade

Andrew!Peter x Tobey!Peter

Andrew!Peter x Gwen

Andrew!Peter x the male MJ Andrew wanted if TASM 3 had happened

Taskmaster x Wade

Taskmaster x Sandi

Taskmaster x Eric

Tony x Tom!Peter

Tony x Strange

Tony x Pepper

Wade x Logan/Wolverine

Wade x Dopinder

Wade x Weasel

Wade x Vanessa

Yon-Rogg x Carol

If interested in working something out, please like this and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Please only like this if you intend on getting back to me!!!

-

[itzagothamcitysiren]

His MJ, Master list

After being roommates for nearly a year now, MJ grew accustomed to Peter Parker’s weird antics, like using windows over doors to enter their apartment at night. He was a great guy, paid his half of the rent on time, and he wasn’t too hard on the eyes. 

But there were still moments were even his good looks couldn’t get a pass from her.

“You’re my MJ.” 

His muttering of the phase repeated, his eyes continued to stare at her as if he just saw a ghost, as if he wasn’t sitting on their couch, face and body all bruised up after going missing for almost two days. 

MJ looked at him, his words echoing in her own head, as she fretted over him. 

His MJ, 

Chapter 1- Her Weird Roommate, Peter Parker

Chapter 2- the Mary-Janes

Chapter 3- This is Why Multiverse’s are Confusing,...

Chapter 4- Coming Soon....

tag list:

@cosmistake @ashley13s​ @jasontoddthezombie @bitch—stillabitch  @polireader  @xbriix​ @ impossibelle 

[mitraavrs]

MJ weds Peter

yes, its a south indian wedding because mj is south indian in my fic because im south indian , kerala weddings are beautiful <3

[saturnville]

another shot at love.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x black!oc

warnings: nwh spoilers. fluff, angst, kinda lengthy.

content: peter decides to take advice from the wiser version of himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics

There was an eerie silence that surrounded him. So quiet, yet so loud. The stillness grabbed him by the throat and squeezed tight, exhausting him indefinitely. A horrid cough crawled from his throat. He longed for a noise, a sound, a bump, a squeak. Still, he was met with silence.

He despised the drip drip drip of the liquid IV pumping fluids through his weak body, the creaking of opening and closing doors, the muffled voices of doctors using words a common Joe wouldn't comprehend, and the blinding lights that shone on the pasty walls.

He craned his head to the right, slowly and with precision to not aggravate the broken bones of his collarbone. The view outside was drastically depressing. A blanket of gray covered New York City, but wasn't instrumental in providing warmth. People sulked the streets in thick coats and hats and gloves. Red faces and chattering teeth, spilled hot chocolate cups, and sprints to the nearest place of warmth. He'd only assumed it was because the sun wasn't out, his sun wasn't out.

No longer did her rays brighten the world, provide warmth and growth to those around her. Instead, she'd been dimmed, tucked six feet under gravel and filth, unable to return. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach...again. Part of him felt bad for his nurses, having to clean up such a repetitive accident. He shrugged to himself and sniffed.

It'd been twelve hours and it felt like twelve years. Her face haunted him and he was sure it would haunt him forever. The striking blues that cried out when her mouth couldn't. The God-awful sound that emitted when her head cracked against the concrete. The blood that seeped from her button nose. He shook himself.

It was over and done with. She was dead, lifeless, and cold. He was alive, and he hated it. There was nothing to do about it now.

Somehow, he was thrust into a universe different than his own. There was no Gwen, no Uncle Ben, rather than an MJ and an Aunt May, who’d unfortunately lost her life.

He’d been asked by an…older sibling, he’d prefer to say, if there’d been a someone. He despised the flashbacks that clouded his visions. The striking blues that cried out when her mouth couldn't.

“You can try again…in due season. Whenever you’re ready or whenever the world senses you are.”

When he’d returned back to his universe by the hands of Doctor Strange, he attempted to have a more open and accepting attitude toward it all. He didn’t expect love to fall out of the air and into his lap, but he also didn’t expect it to come either. However, he struggled with it all.

All over again, everything reminded him of Gwen. From the blue skies that were dull in comparison to her eyes to the sunflowers that’d recently blossomed. They were her favorite.

Sunday mornings in New York were the ones he preferred. The streets were empty and the shops were bare. Most people spent time in their homes sleeping off the atrocities from the weekend and preparing for the upcoming week.

Peter took slow, deliberate steps toward the coffee shop around the corner from his apartment. With a book clutched in his palm, he pulled back the glass door and stepped inside.

The intense smell of caffeine swirled through his nostrils. He breathed in heavily and eyed his surroundings. The coffee shop was fairly empty, save for two baristas and a handful of customers; a young student cramming for an exam on the left side of the cafe, and an elderly couple splitting a pastry to his right. He found himself trying to smile and the view.

He ordered his usual—a black coffee with two creams and three sugars. Gwen told him his choice of black coffee by itself was "ungodly." He chuckled to himself at the memory.

Peter perched himself by a nearby window. The view of the wind blowing a garden of flowers just across the street was a view he'd appreciated. Much better than the horrors and terrors he'd witnessed over and over in the past.

In the other universe, MJ recommended a book to him. The Song of Achilles. She said it'd stroke the piece of him infatuated with mythology and magic. He found it in a local library and decided to spend his days diving into it. It was a fascinating story, he reveled. So addicting that he hadn't realized he'd managed to read half of the book in one sitting.

His coffee had lost its warmth and was only half drunken. Peter pushed his glasses further upon the bridge of his nose and turned the next page anxiously.

"That's a good book, very well worth the read."

Peter raised his head quickly, meeting the eyes of an unfamiliar individual. He lowered the book slowly. Before him was a woman he'd never seen before, but she was prettier than anything he'd seen before.

She was tall. He was sure they'd be eyelevel if he stood to his feet. She had a rich complexion that glistened beneath the winter sun. There were no long tresses of hair that flowed with the wind, rather than thick, dark coils that sat just below her chin. Thick eyebrows, doe-like brown eyes covered by almond shaped eyelids and full cheeks caressed by long lashes. Full lips, pretty full lips painted in brown gloss.

"Uh, yeah, i-it is," Peter stammered, ultimately in awe of the woman in front of him. "A friend suggested it."

"That friend has good taste. Mind if I sit?" He had no chance to respond before she pulled out one of the matte black chairs and sat. Peter whispered out an "of course" anyways.

"My name is MJ, by the way," she introduced. Peter's ears perked up and he looked at her with full blown eyes. MJ raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I, uh, I have a friend named MJ, Michelle Jones."

"I bet she's dope, especially if she was the one who recommended that book. But, specifically, my name is Mariah Joy, preferably MJ."

"I'm Peter Parker."

MJ smiled and nodded. She had a beautiful smile, he noted, very pretty. "Nice to meet you, Peter Parker."

They spoke for hours, up until the little coffee shop closed for the evening. It was around five in the evening when they parted ways, the sun long gone and the moon replacing it as the provider of light.

"I haven't spoken to someone like that in a long time. You're a great conversationalist," Peter commented with a small chuckle. MJ laughed and nodded. That was true; she told him light details about her childhood, her college days, and the adventures she'd went on as child in exchange for hearing childhood stories about his parents and his love for science.

"I appreciate that. You are too, Parker."

A silence fell over them for a few moments before Peter spoke up. "It's getting dark, can I walk you to where you need to go?" MJ smiled softly and nodded, informing him her apartment was only five minutes away.

They walked together in silence, one that was comfortable. Their hands brushed against each other as they pittered down the cracked concrete sidewalk with minimal space between them. When they arrived at her building, Peter couldn't help but feel saddened that she had to go.

"Thank you for walking me, I appreciate it."

Peter waved her off and smiled shyly. "It's no problem. Thanks again for today, I needed it more than I'd like to admit."

"You and me both, Peter."

"Um," Peter cleared his throat. "I planned on going back tomorrow if you wanna maybe come with? Or meet there, whatever..."

"Are you asking me out, Peter Parker?"

A series of stammers and stutters came from him and MJ smiled like it was the most entertaining thing she'd ever witnessed, from the tint in his cheeks to his hardly being able to meet her eyes. "...yes."

"Pick me up at 12?" MJ pushed open the lobby door. Peter nodded fervently. "Great, see you then." She pressed a small kiss on his cheek and swiftly entered her building.

"See you then..." he replied breathlessly.

Quietly, those words rang through his ears, “You can try again…in due season. Whenever you’re ready or whenever the world senses you are.”

[liz-allyn]

bittersweet: sugar + vice vol. 2 (pt 2) [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: "okay. about last night..." [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] continued immediately from part 1 "Love on the Brain").

words: 5.6 k

tags: fluff and angst, my favs. food. stupid wealthy person antics, jealousy, boundaries, some world-building, PG-13 references to spicy memories from Pt. 1.

Part 2 - Bittersweet

The doorbell chiming yanked Honey unceremoniously out of her morning grogginess as she exited the bathroom. The bell tolled through her throbbing headache, causing her to squeeze her still-gummy eyes tight. She could only think of one word.

Peter.

Honey felt slightly guilty for throwing him out of his house last night. Even if it was an extravagant house. Even if it was at the top of an unconscionably expensive, 5-star hotel, where he could easily afford another place to stay. 

Very slightly.

Even if she threw him out immediately after the most outstanding sex of her life.

Worrying her lip, she debated her next move. She let out a long sigh, tugging on the lapels of the spare bathrobe she'd found. She forced her legs to move, retracing the steps buried in the lust-filled haze of her memory. 

Impatient, the door chimed again.

Her gait was more of a ginger waddle, and every muscle beneath her neck felt like it was made of jelly. Her body beneath the waist hummed. She could describe it as falling between a tender tingle after a deep tissue massage and the aching burn she'd imagined would follow a CrossFit session at the top of Everest. 

Images from last night flooded Honey's brain. How Peter had pleasured and defiled her. He bent her body deliciously, fitting her to and around all of his aching needs while elevating her toward a new stratosphere of ecstasy. 

She stowed those thoughts away. There would be a time for them later. Probably later that night. Maybe even in a week, after her body finally recovered.

For her own dignity's sake, she would not let the morning after Peter Parker walked back into her life be that time. 

She stepped towards the entrance and saw the tattered remains of the clothes she wore last night scattered in the dining area. Shredded like a wild animal had gotten to them. 

She averted her eyes, grinding her teeth as the door chimed again.

"Alright!" she hissed. "Hold your horses––!"

She gripped the doorknob and swung open the door, clipping her tone immediately.

A wide grin beneath a thin mustache and furrowed, silver, bushy eyebrows greeted her.

"Good morning, madam," the older gentleman stated.

He wore a crisp, fitted white uniform and a pleasant smile. She blushed immediately, gathering her bathrobe tighter at her chest, and gawked at the seven uniformed hotel staff in the hallway. 

The man who greeted her had a warm, olive complexion with bronze freckles. Sunspots dotted his face, blended together the tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. "Pardon our intrusion."

Honey jumped out of the way without much time to react as the gentleman dutifully led the staff into the penthouse. Wide-eyed and tongue-twisted, she stared with wide eyes as the man motioned for his staff to follow. 

The scent of coffee filled the entryway as a young man rolled in a cart. It was stacked with an impressive display of cream, sweeteners, and tea bags circling two gooseneck, stainless-steel coffee pots. Her eyes followed the kid as he passed, her stomach growling at the familiar aroma of fresh Colombian coffee beans.

Honey opened her mouth to speak but hushed again as a middle-aged woman in a double-breasted white uniform pushed in another cart stacked with silver serving platters with cloche dome tops.

She could feel the steam wafting off the cart and had just enough time to move as she saw two more women, each with their own cart of linens and sizzling serveware, following behind. 

Honey's stomach growled while her gaze followed. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short again. Two more uniformed women walked in wearing matching steel-gray housekeeping dresses. The sleek dark fabric was contrasted with white cotton trim on the short sleeves and the high, Peter Pan collar of the dress.

They moved like a rising surf—fluid, swift, and unstoppable—as they crested and split in opposite directions. They were gone again in a flash. 

Honey barely had enough time to see them disappear before the heat of the subsequent presence was at her back. Her head snapped to the open doorway, and immediately, her face fell flat.

Peter.

His lithe form leaned against the doorframe, and she was sure he would've occupied the entire space had it not been an oversized 8-foot door.

Peter's presence came with a lightness Honey was unused to. Specifically, the light beige Ralph Lauren suit over a lilac button-up.

"Mornin,' sunshine," he drawled through a lopsided smirk. 

The sunshine seemed like it was radiating from him. Sun rays reflected off the linen of his suit. A quick coy smile revealed a flash of his white teeth. His eyes glowed warm amber hues, highlighting the roasted chestnut of his hair. Despite it being freshly cut and combed and his waves being tamed with hair product, a stubborn curl peeked over his forehead, like a flower leaning towards sunlight.

Like the flowers in his hand. He held a thick bouquet of mostly yellow daisies and ivory roses. In between the perfectly crafted arrangement, stalks of delicate, purple flowers protruded from the thicket. They brought out the lilac in his shirt.

She reexamined it again.

Not lilac. 

Lavender. 

"M'surprised you're up this early," Peter dreamily murmured, observing her with starry eyes.

Honey looked down at the flowers pressed against his chest, then back at the gold in his gaze. She observed the gentle curve of his smile.

Honey's face was the polar opposite, with icicles to prove it. "I'm surprised it wasn't the cops at the door." 

It was like popping a metaphorical bubble. Or one of his lungs.

Peter's eyebrows dipped as he pulled his lips into a frown. She turned her back to him smoothly, letting the door swayed open behind her. The door creak followed the sounds of her retreating steps.

Peter shot a quick glance toward the sky. He dragged in a breath and let his shoulders sag. Somewhere in his mind, the phrase 'Well, what did you expect?' echoed. He let the air out of his lungs, and turned on the unflinching charisma.

He followed her— because, of course, he did— meandering in with something of a swagger.

"Y'know, that's a good point," he said matter-of-factly, "now tha'cha mention it." He studied her from behind, watching her pad through his home, searching for the rest of her clothes. 

Peter continued, slyly. "I'm surprised they didn't show up last night. All that screamin' you did when you were ridin' me..."  He couldn't see the embarrassment on her face, but he noticed the way her back stiffened. "Surprised they didn't think a wild animal was on the loose," he added, lips curling with satisfaction.

"Congratulations!" she replied, her tone bright with feigned enthusiasm. "You went thirty whole seconds without bringing up your dick! What. An. Achievement." She pointed expectantly towards the dining area. "Are you hosting a party to celebrate your success?" 

She observed the kitchen staff curiously. They were in prime form, quickly and quietly retrieving plates, serve dishes, cutlery, and linens from the cart. They flowed through their movements, like synchronized swimming. Her gaze drifted towards the housekeepers spraying and wiping down the table surface with cleaner. 

Heat spread across her skin as she recalled how they had desecrated that spot just hours ago.

Blinking the memory away, she watched the servers step in place of the housekeeping staff. They tossed a linen tablecloth flat over the surface, setting the table for a fancy breakfast.

"Brunch for the Royal Family?" she commented.

Peter peeked over to see the flush on her cheeks, the way her skin heated up as she looked away from the dining table. Setting the bouquet down, he smirked. He knew exactly what was on her mind.

"A queen, actually," he shrugged, suppressing the faint curl of his lips. He wasn't here to gloat. "More of a date, really." He watched her next move intently.

"Well, that's my cue," Honey muttered. "I outta get going. Especially if you plan on eating anyone else out at the table." Her chin held high, she turned her back to him once again.

A strangely familiar sound— like a sharp, slick whipcrack— echoed from behind. She felt a tug on her midsection, then went flying backward. The force yanked Honey off her feet—just as it had the night before. She landed in Peter's arms with a shocked squeak.

"What the fuck?" she shrilled, grasping at the foreign substance on her back. It suddenly occurred to Peter that they hadn't discussed what Peter was using to reel her in, like many aspects of his complicated life.

He turned her towards him like manipulating a doll. Smugness and affection layered on his expression, like the cat that ate the canary.

"What is that?" Honey gawked. As she pulled her hand away, she inspected it closely this time. Shimmery, silver twine made from gossamer threads tangled around her fingers. "Jesus— is that... coming out of you?"

"No," Peter chuckled, amused by her horror.

She observed him, confused by his immunity to the web's stickiness as he casually tossed the string aside. While she was distracted, he gathered her close to his chest. At any other point, she would've fought him—because, of course she would. Her curiosity drove her attention.

Her eyes were on the black leather cuff around Peter's wrist. He'd worn it many times before. Honey just assumed it was an odd piece of jewelry. Maybe he didn't like the feeling of $30,000 designer watches on his skin. 

Now, the glint of a tiny metal device hidden beneath the leather caught her eye. Her eyes darted to his other wrist, spotting another device as his fingers enveloped her shoulders. 

She blinked curiously between the balled-up silk, to the leather cuffs, and to the hotel employees. They didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were likely instructed not to see anything.

Eyes still wide, she blurted, "Seriously, what the fu—?"

A fierce kiss silenced her. Peter smashed his lips to hers, capitalizing on the slight part of her mouth, and slipped his tongue inside. If he could've inhaled her into his lungs, he would have. He noticed faint pressure from Honey's palms against his chest, stubbornly resisting, as usual. The tension drained slowly as she succumbed to his grip. 

Maybe she quit wanting to escape him. 

Maybe she realized he was inescapable.

Peter was the one who couldn't escape Honey. Nor did he want to.

Seconds turned hazy. Peter was dragged deeper into a maelstrom. The longer he tasted her tongue, the more his blood surged like the swell of the tempestuous ocean against a sea wall.

Lust filled his lungs and his brain with gale-force winds. 

Peter remembered last night, too. God, he was already half-hard just thinking about it.

Before he melted from the memory, he pried his lips away from hers. The act took all of his power-of-will. The most he could manage to sacrifice was a couple of inches of distance apart. Peter was already a mess, chest heaving. Honey looked just as wrecked—swaying unwittingly with shaky breaths.

Peter whispered to her, his voice dark, "You're outta your mind if you think I'm lettin'ya walk away." 

A pulse-pounding shudder racked through her body. Peter swore he could feel her pelvic muscles flutter in response. It triggered a sick feeling of validation of the sinful desire polluting his mind. For a moment, he felt free to wallow in its toxicity.

That voice always managed to subdue her. Peter locked this information away for later. 

He was also aware that he needed to touch her. He craned his neck a little further until his nose kissed hers. The action grounded them both. A flicker of levity broke through the lust, and his familiar smirk returned. "And you're batshit crazy if ya think I'm here for anyone else but you."

Honey gazed up at him owlishly, still locked in a haze. She only vaguely registered the breeze as the staff rushed past them. Her cloudy eyes found their way over to the dining table, now fit for a queen. Or a Good Housekeeping magazine cover. 

The door slam pulled her back to the present.

"I thought I made myself clear last night." Peter bit his lip as he said it, holding the sides of her face as he oozed with charm. His sultry eyes fawned over her. "M'not lettin' you go. Not again."

"Let me go, Peter." Honey's voice was firm with a stone expression.

Immediately, Peter's shoulders dropped a full inch, and his voice pitched into a whine. "Will'ya stop being so stubborn—?"

"Let me go, Peter."

"Fine. You're mad at me—Y'made'ya point. Now, can we just talk about this? Like adults? Just sit down—"

"Let. Me. Go. Peter."

Honey's voice seemed to echo as she said it, charged with an electrical current threatening to fry him alive. It was more than a sneer; it was an ominous rattle before a bite. 

Instantly, the teasing nature of their banter evaporated.

Peter blinked several times, like he'd been sucker punched. He was unsure of how to respond. A tick formed in his jaw as he observed her, watching intently, gears turning. Lips pursed together into a thin line.  

Seconds stretched out uncomfortably as she just stared back.

Honey's spine as she stood in front of him—stood up to him—was steel. The little line between her brows popped out like a switchblade, her eyes skewering him just as deeply.

If she was afraid of Peter's unreadable expression, she didn't show it.

Seconds ticked on in their stalemate, during which dozens of scenarios played out in Peter's mind. At least a dozen of those scenarios were inappropriate ways of... making her do it. 

Didn't matter what it was. 'It' could easily be anything Peter wanted. 

He had the power—not just metaphorically.

Peter had enough strength in the upper half of his pinky to simply bend her to his will.

Peter's throat felt so tight it began to ache. A dry swallow rippled through his neck. Then, he made his choice.

His hands opened, releasing her with a forlorn expression. The moment he did, Honey took a giant step back—a recoil. He could've sworn he heard a faint gasp fill the gap they formed, like she'd been holding her breath.

In terror, he realized with disappointment.

Honey curled her arms around herself. His eyes dropped to the floor. 

That look cut him deeper than any blade could. 

"Honey," he said softly, emotions lodged in his throat. Burning mist clouded his vision. He wasn't here to cry, either. But his heart felt heavy all the same. "I just wanna talk."

"I thought you wanted to have breakfast with me."

"I do—!"

"Then ask me!" she snapped, frustration heating up her words. "Ask me! Instead of dragging me around like you're some…some caveman!"

Peter glanced up. The way she spat out the last word gave him pause. 

He studied the pout on Honey's lips. The angry scrunch in her nose. Arms crossed, jaw firm. She glared up at his tall stature, looking courageous and formidable. At the same time, her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. She was desperate to be heard.

Honey had demolished every obstacle placed before her. Even if the obstacle was him, she made it look (and him feel) three inches tall.

The ferocity of her gaze could intimidate a tiger.

Simultaneously, the butterfly wings of her lashes could charm a viper. 

The bow of her lips could force a king to his knees.

How can she not know this? Peter mused with wonder. How on earth was she unaware of how much power she possessed?

Significantly more than he could ever have.

Honey could make Peter do anything.

"If I had five minutes left on this planet," he began, eyes brimmed with an ocean of unspoken words, "I would want them to be with you."

A pause filled the room, consuming all of its oxygen. Peter held his breath in anticipation.

A surge of terror tightened in his chest, but it was tangled with something deeper—an overwhelming sense of adoration. To the outside world, they were two halves of the same sunset, golden rays that kissed a dark, cold earth. 

Honey gazed at him intently. "I would like that," she said.

And he finally could breathe again.

"—But I can't."

Honey stated it matter-of-factly. As if she didn't just reverse the planet's rotation. Peter's gaze dropped to the floor as his heart shattered. He was close to falling apart entirely.

"I can't… I-I…" her words trickled out, trying to support her stance with a lack of conviction. Or direction. Or sense. "I have things to do." 

That sassy tone of hers was back. Peter lifted his eyes to hers, "Oh?"

She shrugged, "Important things."

"Oh," he nodded along, furrowed brows in a serious expression.

"Yeah." She mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. She fidgeted with her fingers, threading them together, until finally, she grasped her arms into a comforting hug. "Like normal people."

The last part was meant to be a jab. "Normal?" Peter replied with decorum.

"Like… taxpayers."

"Hmm."

"—and moms…" she gulped dryly, "on TV." 

Peter nodded conspicuously as if he were fully supportive of her bullshit. His patronizing politeness only frustrated her further.

"Okay, like most people have things to do," she argued harshly, "like bills to pay, people to see—

"Bills."

"And chores! Tasks. Responsibilities."

Peter snorted with feigned enthusiasm, "Wouldn't know anything about that."

"Well, I have a job to get to," she blurted, solidifying her position. "I need to go home and shower and empty my dishwasher, bring my clothes to the laundromat—"

"Uh-huh."

Frustration carved out her tone. "And you know what else? You don't get to hijack my whole day just because you found a couple of hours in your schedule, Peter!" 

He had nothing to say to that.

"And before you ask," Honey pointed a polished fingernail at him, "don't get hung up on last night! You're still in the dog house." She turned to leave but stopped to add, "Or… people house!" 

A moment passed, but she still wasn't done.

"If I had a dog, you would be it!" she growled. "Outside, in the winter, in a tiny wooden shack of shame!" 

Then…

"–Not that I would ever do that to a dog, but maybe a-a cold-blooded— if you were a turtle, or…wait, that doesn't work— A fish! You'd be on your ass! Or fin— is that Portuguese linguiça sausage?" 

Her demeanor had flipped like a switch, from cold to curious, as soon as the smell of food hit her. It was as if the entire conversation had never happened until that point.

Peter couldn't help but smile. "From that place you like," he confirmed, his tone enticing. 

She paused, silent.

Mused.

Deliberated.

"Alright. First—sausage," Honey blurted out, 

decision made. The irritation in her tone seemed directed at herself.

"Then," she warned, "you're in the turtle-fish house!"

She spun on her heel and sauntered towards the buffet as if she'd dropped a mic.

"Okay, so hit me," Peter said.

Honey glanced up at him. The look she gave suggested she was willing to do exactly that.

They sat at opposite ends, so far apart at the dining table that it was almost comical. Only a few minutes had passed since they agreed to sit and eat together. It might as well have been years. Every moment was packed with awkward silence.

Straight-faced, he lifted his arms, extending them in a welcoming gesture. "Let's hear it. I know you got questions. I got answers. Let's go."

"Oh?" she lifted her eyebrow as she pinned him with a mocking glare. 

"Yep," Peter shrugged, maybe a bit too aggressively. "Let's hear 'em. Fire away."

A tension-filled moment of silence settled between them. The whole time, Honey skewered him with her glare. Then—

"Where should I start?" she spat hotly like lava erupting from a volcano. "Should we start from the top? Gimme three hundred words on how you spent your summer vacation." Each word sizzled off her tongue. "Or should we rewind a bit and talk about the ropes of glue shooting out of your body?!" 

An amused laugh burst from his lips, his teeth flashing wolfishly. "I mean… yeah—" he smirked. "When ya put it like that, I'd be willin' t'give you a demonstration—"

"Grow up, Peter!" Honey snapped, her fork clattering on the china.

The accused straightened his shoulders and mouth into a line. 

Contempt filled her incredulous glare. "Y'know what? Let's talk," she sneered, her anger releasing. "Let's talk about you since you're the center of everyone's universe. You, right now. Peter Parker, the Boss." She was flippant, each word intended to pierce his prideful armor. 

"What's been goin'on in your world, huh?" she questioned, pleasant in her tone. "How's crime?" She said it like referring to a common relative.

Peter shot her a brief glare, only encouraging her patronizing. 

"Must be good," she remarked. "What's the mortgage on a ten-thousand-square-foot condo in Manhattan nowadays?"

"Wouldn't know," he shrugged, picking his fork back up to take another bite. He pondered quietly as he chewed. "I bought the whole building."

The crassness of his declaration gave her pause. Honey hated how cocky arrogance looked as good on him as one of his Ralph Lauren suits.

"You bought— a hotel?" she asked in confusion.

Peter's eyes slid over to hers, looking like the devil as he brought a coffee mug to his lips. His eyes were twin flames, burning into her like he was trying to ignite a fire in her belly. Sipping a hot beverage seemed like a lewd act. 

Depraved thoughts filled his skull as he laved his tongue across his scorched lips. He pulled the mug away, and his mouth glistened. He watched Honey's reaction expectantly. 

"Yup," was all he said.

She stared at him, face unreadable. Not the kind of way she stared at his hands or his mouth.

"I suppose…" she crooned in a silky voice that edged on seduction and trepidation. For a moment, Peter's belly flipped with the excitement of a fisherman sensing the first slight tug on a lure. "The fact that Wilson Fisk used to own it had nothing to do with that decision?"

A bucket of ice water had been dropped on him. Coldness stabbed his heart and splintered his bones. 

That name.

The name that paralyzed him. Made his hair stand up on end, even after all these years. She exposed a nerve with just a couple of words.

"Oh," she said knowingly, reading him like a book. "Are we still afraid to say his name?" 

Peter's own words echoed back at him.

"...We don't say his name..."

Peter traveled to the day he rescued Honey from Fisk's men. He remembered inexplicably snapping at her, his hackles raised at the thought of what Mayor Wilson Fisk could do—what he had already done—to Peter's family. What depraved violation he would have done to this unassuming, bright-eyed girl. 

Unassuming, only because she had no idea at that point that she was his. 

The memory blurred and morphed into a twisted reflection of the current moment. 

Innocent. But smart.

Trying to ignore the sudden pulse behind his eye socket, he lifted a shoulder and dropped it. Peter's practiced indifference returned to his face. He returned to his plate, calm and collected. "I'm layin' down plans—"

"With Carol?" Honey finished, eyes narrowed into slits.

Peter's eyes shot to hers, and he looked truly confused momentarily. His expression only seemed to anger her further.

"Is that who you're 'layin' down plans' with?" she asked lividly. There was no concealing it. Honey's eyes were sharp enough to cut his throat.

"What?" Peter blurted out. "Carol??"

God, he hoped he didn't look as stupid as he sounded.

"Yeah!" Honey hissed back, hopping to her feet. The chair creaked loudly across the marble floor as she shoved it away. “Carol. Fucking. Danvers.”  Honey spat each word out like they were sour. "I believe that's her full name, no?"

Peter's brow arched, bewildered. Confused.

"'America's Sweetheart'!" she added through gritted teeth, pushing her fists into the table. The plate clattered at the impact. "Captain America?" she said as if to aid his memory. "You know?"

He blinked. 

She bordered on shrill. "The one with America's Ass?"

Of course, she referred to the former Air Force pilot who became a TikTok sensation, a pop star, a fashion model, and a feminist icon. Everyone's favorite.

Typically, Honey wouldn't resort to bashing another woman, avoiding the "cycle of patriarchal misogyny which pits women against each other," to quote her sister. But deep within her fiery eyes, jealous voices conspired against her rationality.

Meanwhile, Peter's eyebrows squished together, as if he couldn't quite grasp what language they were speaking. "Wha-What're we talkin' abo—?"

Her glare was razor sharp. "What's Carol laying down, huh? What's she like?"

Peter stared back with eyes like saucers and an empty thought bubble next to his head. "She's… Fine?" 

It took less than one second for him to deeply regret his answer. 

"Oh, I'll bet she is!"

Something wild sparked in Honey's eyes like a crackling bonfire. She rounded the table marching towards him. "Y'think I'm stupid? I follow Deuxmoi, asshole!"

Peter let out a long groan, practically dragging his fingernails down his face. "Honey—"

"Don't 'Honey' me!" she sneered, adding a mocking dramatization of his voice. She threw her hands up in front of her face as if waving them at an invisible breaking news chyron. "'Carol Danvers spotted at 1Oak last night with alleged Syndicate crime boss Peter Parker... Is Captain America About to Break Bad?'"

Frustration filled his tone, "That's—! That was noth—"

"Oh, don't gaslight me, Peter!"

"I'm not!" 

"Don't gaslight me about gaslighting me!"

"That was all TMZ bullshit, and you know it!" Peter shot back, now on his feet as well. She pursed her lips together, shaking her head in disbelief. Peter took a steadying breath. "Yes," he admitted, more composed, "I met her at a club, yeah. Because that's where she wanted to meet! I had a business proposition–"

"Business?" she bitterly laughed, crossing her arms. "You two goin' in on a new restaurant? Hipster gastropub called Peter's Cockpit?"

"Jesus Christ, Honey, I didn't fuck her!" he exclaimed in a near whine, waving his arms like a windmill. "It was—" he fumbled over his tongue. "Nothing else happened! No one is in anyone's… cockpit…" 

He winced at his own words. Raw memories from last night flared up in his chest. "Where d'ya get off accusin' me, huh?" he interrupted, suddently. "What about you and Pedro, eh?"

Honey's eyes bulged out of her head in shock.

Peter was referring to, of course, the sexy, hazel-eyed waiter that flirted at the restaurant the night before. Clearly, Honey didn't see the correlation. 

"Pedro!?" she bellowed in disbelief.

"Pedro!" Both of their voices echoed off the stone of the lavish suite.

Honey groaned so loudly, it was a roar. "Pedro's gay, you dunce!" 

Peter's brows furrowed as he considered this. "Come again?" 

"I've known him since junior high! He helped Becca get her first job when she was 15. At that very restaurant!" 

Silence.

Peter blinked, a trench forming between his eyes. 

More silence.

"So. You're... not... ...into him?"

Honey scoffed at the question with a rueful chuckle. He sensed she would've laughed if she hadn't been so furious. "Seriously? I've seen rainbows that were straighter!"

He felt his skin fluster. The thumping percussion inside of his chest leveled out to a dull thud. His heart ached all the same.

Peter's eyes rested on her. She stayed rigid, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a way that reminded him of a tree fighting to remain upright in the wind. A cherry blossom braving an early-spring cold snap.

Her eyes were cast to the side, and filtered sunlight gave her an ethereal glow. Anxiety reflected across the color of her irises.

"Did it hurt?" Honey asked, barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head at her question, glancing briefly at the shimmer resting on her lower lashes. Her voice was meek but raw with unspoken emotion, like a wave of tears being held back. "Thinking I wanted him?" He recognized her attempts to look anywhere else but at him.

Peter's chocolate eyes softened. "Did you want it to?" he questioned gently. Not an ounce of judgment thrown her way. "Hurt me?"

His beautiful girl swallowed dryly, blinking the shimmer away. Her eyes wandered to the floor. "Maybe," she replied thoughtfully, discovering it herself. 

Peter hadn't expected her honesty but wasn't surprised. If anything, he found it disappointingly refreshing. 

He watched her fidget with her hands. "Regardless," she said, clearing her throat. "I guess now you know how it feels." 

Shame brimmed her gaze as it bounced off the walls and floor. Peter considered her expression, silently reading all the emotions she could not conceal.

"Carol isn't what you think she is," Peter said, matter-of-fact. His ferocity had calmed, and his arrogance had dissipated like a storm cloud. Tiredly, he ran his hand back through his hair. "Matt heard that she might be making the leap into politics. People are saying she could make a play for Congress. Maybe even the governorship." 

Honey stared at him in silence. Waiting.

"I was hopin' I could convince her to stick a little closer to home," Peter sighed with a half-shrug and a dim spark of hope in his smile. "Somewhere... maybe like City Hall."

Honey arched a brow, processing. "Mayor," she said, contemplative. "You want her to run against Fisk." 

He looked sheepish now, pocketing his hands. "Lotsa people think she could win."

Honey's eyelids narrowed. "Do you even vote?" 

"She'd have mine," Peter replied without hesitation, then his eyes snapped to hers. "And no," he added, muted but coy. "Before you say anything, that wasn't a euphemism. Or an objectification of any of her..." The words dwindled as he struggled to form the right word. "...Assets."

Peter cringed after saying it, and he could've sworn that her eye twitched.

"I wasn't lying, Honey," he added. His heart was in his throat. "Last night. When I said, 'There wasn't anyone else for me.' I meant it."

She was silent momentarily, but a million words bubbled up behind her glassy eyes. "There has to be something else for me," she whimpered, vocal cords tight. 

Her vulnerability was in plain sight. No further posturing. The heartbreak in her voice felt like a knife jammed between his ribs.

"I can't—I-I just can't..." Honey struggled, losing her composure. 

"I don't…" Peter muttered half-consciously. Terrified at the realization. "What-what are you saying, you-you don't wanna be with me?" 

The tears bubbled up again on her lower lash line. Her plea ground out miserably, voice breaking, "There has to be more to me, to my life, than just being… yours."

He blinked at her, confused.

"I can't belong to you, Peter," she replied. Tears glided down her cheeks, now flooded with raw emotion. "I can't belong to anyone else." 

His Honey shivered before him, choking back sobs. She barely looked strong enough to stand.

And that's when it hit him.

The sharp contrast between the woman who stared him down and the shivering girl before him became apparent. It was day and night, fire and fear.

Fear.

"Mari."

The word snapped her out of her downward spiral. Wide-eyed and caught off guard, Honey's gaze flicked up to his.

Peter gazed at her with a worried line between his brows. He focused on her eyes, made impossibly brighter from tears. The sight broke his heart.

Peter took a careful step forward, the way one would approach a wild horse. The slightest twig snap might send her running.

"I'm not trying to put you in a cage," he offered gently. Saying those words were painful, in a nauseating way. "Not again."

The gentle relief he spotted in Honey's gaze tore through his sternum. Peter couldn't decide whether he would rather bleed out or trap her away beneath his ribs.

Peter's hands itched, desperately wanting to close the gap between them, wipe away her tears with his thumbprints, and blanket her with his hold. Vigilantly, he kept his heels glued to the floor. He'd like to think he did so out of respect for her wishes and not with fear that she'd run away from him.

"I'm— I'm not," he babbled, dread filling him. Everything felt suddenly upside down. Reversed. He was a stranger again, with a frightened girl trembling in his bathtub. The thought terrified him. "If-if-if that's what you think—"

"I love you so much," Honey declared, clear as a bell. His heart was in his throat again. He swallowed it down, afraid he would empty his stomach in front of her. "I really do."

The opposite emotions tugging at his psyche felt like an ax swinging downwards, severing thick brush with a satisfying whistle. They culminated in a wet chopping sound—the split of his heart in two pieces.

"It's the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think about at night." She dabbed at her chin with the back of her hand, taking a measured breath. "Sometimes I think that it's all I have left."

His heart sank. "But it can't be, though. " 

The knowingness of his voice pierced her further. "It can't," Honey replied gently. Sorrow weighed down the corners of her mouth, though he could tell she was still trying to smile. "I need to love myself." The last word had her lip wobbling.

Peter tightened his jaw, trying to channel the energy of his agony into something other than tears.

"For now," Honey added. The soft reassurance flickered like candlelight, providing the only warmth he could hold onto.

Peter locked his jaw and nodded slowly, understandingly. The more he thought about the equation, the more sense it made to him. 

It wasn't about him.

He declared, resolved. "You're the boss."

A/N: Go ahead. Let's hear it. If you loved this, reblog. If you thought it could be better, give it a like. If you hated it, do nothing. Thanks to my muses, now and forever. 🦌 Back to S&V Masterlist • Back to Main

Thank you for supporting fanfic authors by reblogging and keeping the community healthy. ♥️

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

In Another Life Part 1- TASM! Peter Parker x OC

TASM! Peter Parker x Maeve Nadine

Description: Sometimes finding true love means going to another dimension.

Word Count: 2.1k

The dawn finally began to rise as Maeve watched Peter - her Peter, Peter 1 - finally stab the Green Goblin with the anti-serum in the neck from her place beside MJ, Rosemary, Ned and Doctor Strange. A quiet gasp left her lips, though it was drowned out by Norman’s own gasp as he staggered. The group watched as the man fell back on his haunches, a look of recognition on his face.

“Peter?” He questioned softly before his eyes landed on Peter 2. “What have I done?” A relieved laugh left Maeve, MJ, Ned and Rosemary as they watched the man basically surrender to Peter 1. Maeve watched as Peter 3 rushed to Peter 2’s aid, crouching by his side and pressing a hand to the latter’s back. It was probably to feel the stab wound’s severity.

“Maeve,” Rosemary called, effectively catching the girl’s attention. “Can’t you replicate Amy’s power to heal?” The girl thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t know if I can do interchanging powers, but it’s worth a shot,” she answered before sprouting wings from her back (likely mimicking some sort of angel) and flying down to meet the three Peters. The three of them looked up as she approached and they all offered her relieved smiles, though for different reasons.

“Maeve,” Peter 1 greeted, meeting her as she landed.

“How bad is it?” She asked as he led her closer to the other two.

“Pretty bad,” the boy answered anxiously. Maeve’s gaze landed on Peter 2 as her wings disappeared from behind her.

“It’s really not that bad,” the older Peter attempted to soothe as she dropped to her knees beside him. Nevertheless, he turned with Peter 3’s help to allow her to examine the wound. The girl glanced at her hands after looking at the stab wound, then took a deep breath.

“This may feel uncomfortable,” she muttered before pressing a hand to the wound. She offered him an apologetic look when he hissed in pain before focusing her energy on mimicking Amy’s power. After a moment a small glow emitted from the wound and she pulled her hand away. Everyone marveled at the now smooth skin; there wasn’t even a scar to be seen.

“How does it feel?” She asked Peter 3 anxiously. The man reached back to run a hand over where the wound used to be then laughed in disbelief.

“Good as new,” he answered, which made the others breathe a sigh of relief.

“How did you do that?” Peter 2 asked, shock and amazement evident on his face. Maeve shot him a shy smile.

“I can recreate people’s powers by just thinking of them,” she explained.

“That’s so cool,” he breathed out. The two of them shared a smile before a deep and chaotic rumbling was heard. They turned their attention to the sky only to see shadowy silhouettes forming above.

“Is that really happening, or am I dying?” Peter 2 questioned from beside them as all four of them slowly stood up.

“Oh, yeah, no. That’s happening, that’s real,” Peter 3 answered distractedly. Maeve’s gaze went from the sky to where Doctor Strange stood. She watched as he trembled, seemingly attempting to hold the universe itself together.

“Peter,” she trailed off, nodding towards the doctor when Peter 1 faced her. He seemed to understand what she was saying because he nodded then webbed over to him. Peter 2 followed after him, then Peter 3 wrapped an arm around Maeve and followed suit.

“What’s happening?” Peter 1 asked worriedly once they were all there.

“They’re starting to come through, and I can’t stop them,” Strange responded a bit distractedly.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Maeve said worriedly.

“Can’t you just cast the spell again? But the original way, before I screwed it up,” Peter 1 continued desperately. Strange just shook his head.

“We’re too late for that. They’re here! They’re here because of you.” Maeve bit her lip anxiously, barely missing when Peter 2 grabbed her hand and offered in a comforting squeeze. It wasn’t fair! They’d only just defeated those multiverse villains and now they had to deal with this. She wanted to cry, in fact she had already been tearing up when-

“What if everyone forgot who I was?” Peter 1 questioned.

“What?!” Strange and Maeve yelled in unison.

“They’re coming here because of me, right? Because I’m Peter Parker?” The boy continued. “So cast a new spell, but this time make everyone forget who Peter Parker is. Make everyone forget... me.” The doctor immediately refused, much to the girl’s relief. But the youngest Peter persisted.

“But it would work, right?”

“Yeah, it would work. But you gotta understand that would mean that everyone who knows and loves you, we,” Strange paused when his voice caught in his throat. “We’d have no memory of you. It would be as though you never existed.”

“I know,” the boy nodded, looking resigned. “Do it.” After a moment, Doctor Strange reluctantly nodded.

“You better go and say your goodbyes. You don’t have long,” he muttered. Peter thanked him then moved to leave, but paused when the man spoke.

“Call me Stephen.” Peter stopped, then faced him.

“Thank you, Stephen.” The doctor smiled.

“Yeah... still feels weird.” Peter smiled back, then moved towards the other two Peters and Maeve.

“Hey! Uh... I think this is it. I think you guys are about to go home,” he muttered, which reminded Maeve of the harsh reality. Peter 2 wasn’t from this universe, she would never be able to see him again. It seemed that the man also realized that because he squeezed the girl’s hand once again as he responded.

“Alright,” he muttered.

“Okay,” Peter 3 responded at the same time.

“Um, look, I, uh... thank you! I just want to- I want you- I want to tell you that... I really don’t know how to say this, I-” Peter 1 stumbled, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say to the other two Peters.

“Peter…” Peter 2 was cut off by the youngest.

“I want you to know that I’m-” he continued, which made all three of them smile.

“Peter,” Maeve caught his attention.

“You know. It’s what we do,” said with a knowing grin. Peter 1 returned his smile.

“Yeah. It’s what we do. Um... Right, I gotta find Rosemary, and Ned and MJ,” he spoke, moving to turn away. He quickly turned back around and hugged the other Peters, thanking them profusely. Once they pulled away, Peter 1 faced Maeve. She offered him a teary smile and let go of Peter 2’s hand to pull the younger boy into a tight hug.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she muttered, voice cracking. Though she’d only known Peter for a few years, she couldn’t deny their sibling-like bond.

“I know,” Peter muttered quietly as he hugged her back. “I’ll miss you too.” After another minute of holding onto each other, they pulled away and she wiped away her tears.

“You should probably go find your friends,” she muttered, earning a nod from the boy. After offering her one last hug before jogging over to his friends and Rosemary. Once he was far enough from them, Peter 2 looked at her and Peter 3.

“I’ll give you guys some space,” he said before webbing back over to where Norman sat now with Doc Ock. Maeve’s eyes stayed on him for a minute as she debated on what to say to the boy beside her.

It was no secret that they’d gotten significantly closer since they’d met in Ned’s grandmother’s house. Before meeting Peter 3, she’d never believed in the concept of ‘love at first sight.’ But, to be fair, she didn’t know if it counted as such. Sure, she found him attractive when they first met, but it was just that. Then she watched him sympathize with her Peter, something she had experienced since she had been close with Tony Stark. That’s when it felt like something more. It was obvious that he felt the same way, though it wasn’t shown until they’d arrived at the Statue of Liberty. Now, they were faced with these feelings and the fact that they might never see each other ever again. It felt like there was so much she wanted to say, yet not enough time.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Is what she ultimately settled on. She knew it was lame, but that was honestly the best she could come up with.

“Yeah,” Peter 3 replied. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was very unsure. Maeve nodded, offering him a weak smile when he looked at her. They stared at each other for a split second, then in the blink of an eye they were hugging. She could tell that he was trying not to use all his strength to hug her at the risk of breaking her back, but his grip on her was pretty tight. It wasn’t like she could say anything though, she was hugging him with the same amount of pressure.

“It was amazing to meet you,” she said softly, holding him tighter (if that were even possible at this point. “I’ll never forget you, Peter Parker.”

“And I will never forget you, Maeve Nadine,” he muttered into her ear. “Of course mine will actually be true because my memory won’t be erased or whatever that doctor is about to do.” That made Maeve laugh. It was a bittersweet, almost sad laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. When she lifted her chin from his shoulder their heads drew closer until their foreheads touched Maeve was ready to cry again as she stared into his deep brown eyes, she didn’t want to have to say goodbye. It felt like the multiverse was offering her everything she wanted then ripping it away as if it were some sick joke. Her eyes fell closed in an attempt to prolong the tears waiting to break loose. It wasn’t until she heard Rosemary speak that she opened them again.

“Isn’t there anything you could do?” At first she assumed that the girl was talking about Peter 1’s situation, but that was thrown out the window when Strange answered.

“It’s too dangerous, especially after all that’s happened. I’m already sending those guys back to their universes, it’s too risky for Maeve to go with them.” His response broke the girl’s heart, and she found herself holding on tighter to Peter 3.

“Please, doctor,” the younger girl begged softly. "If the person you loved was forced to be apart from you, wouldn't you try to do anything to be with them?" The man sighed and finally looked away from the sky long enough to look at Peter 3 and Maeve. The girl knew he was thinking about Ingrid, and he was putting her and himself in the situation. Strange sighed deeply.

“There’s a split second between when the spell is cast. If I’m quick enough I could probably open a portal for her after everyone else goes back to their universe,” he ultimately answered. Immediately hope shot through Maeve and she quickly pulled away from Peter 3.

“Are you serious?” She asked hopefully, earning a nod from Strange as he faced her.

“Yes, but there’s a catch.” The others groaned internally. Of course there was.

“What is it?” Peter 3 asked hesitantly.

“Because you’re not from this universe, you won’t be affected by the spell, but Maeve will be. I’m opening the portal after everyone but me loses their memories about our Peter. There’s a high chance that she won’t remember you. If things go right she’ll regain her memories when she sees something and/or someone familiar, like you. It’ll be up to you to find her though. Do you understand?” Peter 3 nodded immediately, a wide smile already on his face.

“Yeah, I got it.” Strange nodded at him, then his eyes landed on Maeve.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Once you’re in his universe, I won’t be able to bring you back. Especially with my memories replaced,” he questioned. The girl didn’t think twice before nodding.

“I want to do this,” she answered without hesitation, taking Peter 3’s hand. Strange nodded, then offered her a small smile.

“It was nice knowing you,” he spoke sincerely, offering her one more acknowledging nod before continuing the spell. Upon facing Peter 3 again she was pulled into another hug.

“I’ll find you, I promise,” he muttered into her shoulder.

“You better,” she jokes weakly as they pull away. She could already see the multiverse villains beginning to fade away behind him. As if sensing that their time was coming to an end, Peter 3 began leaning in. Before his lips could touch hers, she pressed a finger to them. He looked at her, confused, but she just smiled.

“Save it for when you find me,” she practically whispered. The boy laughed quietly and nodded before settling on kissing her forehead just before he finally faded away, leaving her standing alone. Everything went black for Maeve after that.

[gredandforgeweatherby]

The Girl One Floor Below

Apartment 3C

Summary: Peter Parker helps a girl move in

WC: 1.3K

warnings: A singular swear word, talk of Gwen's death and its effect on Peter (recurring theme throughout the chapters) Not edited because I wanted to pot it today and written over the course of one day so my crappy writting. Takes place after NWH so spoilers if you haven't seen it.

If you haven't seen it go watch it right now, like literally close tumblr and go watch it. It's life changing.

      Peter Parker was tired.

       He was tired of the project Jameson had made him redo multiple times (4 and counting!), despite the fact that he thought it was perfectly fine. He was tired from his multiversal travel, even though he has been back in his own universe for three months now. And he was tired of being alone.

     Now don't get him wrong, he was totally fine with living alone – he had for several years now. He was fine with maybe not getting out as much as he used to or seeing people outside of his work (willingly). The thing that bugged him was – well, it was a combination of things.

Landing in another universe changed him for the better. Seeing the two others Peter’s living their lives happily, or as happily as they could being a superhero, with someone sparked a bit of hope in his heart. They had time for Spider-Man, and they had time for Peter Parker. He hadn’t. Ever since that night in the clocktower, once he managed to drag himself out of the pit of despair, depression, and guilt that Gwen’s death had catapulted him into, he didn’t make time to be Peter Parker. Just Peter Parker. He left the city on its own for a while, and came back more brutal than before. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but he’s afraid he lost that title years ago.

Gwen was his one – his soulmate, his person, the one he was destined to spend forever and longer with. That’s what he thought at least. But he was older now, twenty-seven going on twenty-eight, and he no longer believed in that. He believed he was meant to fall in love with Gwen, become enamored by her, and then have her ripped away from him in the most gut wrenching way he could have possibly imagined (if he ever imagined it, which he didn’t), and then spend the rest of his life living with that knowledge. The knowledge that as every year passes, he grows a year older while Gwen is forever nineteen. That he lives with the guilt and pain about what happened that night. He believes he was meant to be alone, that the universe wanted to give him a taste of what a wonderful life he could have had if maybe he had never been bitten, or been so selfish, or maybe hadn’t been born with the name of Peter Benjamin Parker. 

The universe could be a real bitch.

But part of him, a small part of him, had been healed when he saved his younger brother’s MJ, preventing him from living the life he had for almost eight years. Peter had found solace knowing that he prevented the youngest Peter from losing his twin flame, and that helped him heal. That had been the first true step in his healing journey, he realized, as nothing he had done before had really helped. The burning pain he once held in his heart and head had become a dull ache spread across his entire body over the years, but a trip to another universe had helped that ache subside just a bit. And for that, he was thankful.

Nine months out from a quick trip of meeting two other versions of him, he was healing. He was getting better. Peter blamed himself less than he had for Gwen’s death, the dull ache had subsided more, and although he knows it will never be fully gone, he’s glad it can become duller and duller until it’s almost absent. He was taking better care of himself, stopping in to see May more and staying longer for visits. Jameson finally accepted the project that had been causing him a substantial amount of grief since he had come back. (He had to do it over five times before Jameson finally deemed it acceptable, although at that point Peter had gotten tired of his shit and just submitted his first version again and Jameson didn’t even know.) He was trying to leave his apartment a bit more for things that weren’t work or errand related, and began decorating his apartment a bit nicer to hopefully bring some light into his life. He was on his way back from the bugle, and was only a few steps away from the elevator of his apartment building when he took a quick look to his left. 

A few feet from his left was a woman close to the same age as him. She was obviously moving in as she had two moving boxes with her, although she was slightly struggling to get a hold on both of them. Her hair was short; dark brown cut to sit a bit above her shoulder, yet most of it was up in a ponytail, the rest sitting against the base of her neck, lightly damp with sweat. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, as it was now July and the heat was brutal, and he could see small beads of sweat collecting at her hairline. Nonetheless, Peter thought she was beautiful.

Looking at her made his heart race, made him feel nervous like he was back in highschool talking to Gwen again. He noticed his palms beginning to sweat and wiped them on his jeans as he debated going over to talk to her. He had almost decided on no when he had thought back to what the eldest of the Peters had told him.

He was going to make time for Peter Parker.

With that thought, he wiped his palms on his pants once more before going over to her.

“Uh, hi.” He greeted her with a small smile and wave before clearing his throat because he knows he sounds like a prepubescent teenager talking to his crush, and continued. “Hi, I was passing and saw you were moving without any help and was wondering if I could offer some.” He internally cringed at how he was talking to her, he was admittedly out of practice.

She smiled lightly while nodding her head. “That would be great actually. I’ve been struggling with these boxes for a bit, thank you.”

Peter nodded at her in response before picking up one of the boxes. “Lead the way.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

They made their way to the third floor before she stopped, put her box down, pulled out her keys and unlocked her door. She stepped out of the way to let Peter inside first before making her way inside with her last box.

“You can put it anywhere, obviously I’m not very particular about box placement.” She placed her box on the kitchen counter as she voiced this to Peter, and he made his way over to her and put his next to it.

He looked back at the various boxes scattered about the room before speaking. “Did you move all of these up here by yourself?”

Letting out a light laugh she responded. “Yeah, I didn’t have anyone helping me so it has taken me way too long. I was planning on unpacking some tonight but that is not gonna happen now.”

“I could help if you wanted.” Peter offered, part of him hoping she’d say yes, but another part hoping she’d say no.

“Oh no it’s okay. I feel bad I even took up the whole six minutes of your time already so you’re free to go.”

She and Peter walked to the door and he noticed the number emblazoned on the door. “3C, I’m one floor above 4C if you ever need anything. I know it’s always nice to have someone just in case when you’re moving in. I didn’t have that, all I had was this crotchety old woman who hated my guts so..” he trailed off while looking away, really wishing a hole would just swallow him up on the spot for being so awkward. But instead of grimacing or cringing, the woman smiled and thanked him.

“I’m Peter, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.

“I’m Marilyn.” She took his hand and shook it, before saying goodbye and seeing him off.

Marilyn.

Peter never thought a name would ever sound so sweet on his tongue.

series masterlist

[punchdrunkdoc]

Given To Fly

Chapter 14: The Girl On The Other Side Of The World

Masterlist here

TASM! Peter Parker x Original female character

Summary: After the events of Spiderman: No Way Home, Peter 3 is determined to make some changes to his life. It starts with a new job, and a chance meeting with a beautiful stranger in a bar.

Notes: The lonely, somewhat tortured TASM!/Andrew Garfield version of Peter Parker in Spiderman: No Way Home broke my heart a bit. This is my attempt to give him his happy ending.

I can’t say too much, as there’s a mystery at the heart of this tale that I don’t want to spoil.

But I can say this will be an 18-part story with a slow burn, enemies-to-lovers romance with an OC character (the x reader format doesn’t work for this particular story - sorry!)

Also available on AO3

5 months later…

MJ sat in the small boutique and stared out at the rain-streaked city between the wedding dresses displayed in the window. 

The scene beyond the warm, cozy store was a patchwork of grey.  Dark clouds blocked the anaemic sun and belched rain onto the dreary concrete streets below. The people passing by the window huddled from the weather under black coats and black umbrellas. 

The world was dark and miserable. 

She felt right at home. 

“What do you think?” Mel’s bright voice interrupted her maudlin thoughts. MJ turned away from the window and plastered a fake smile on her face. This was a big day. Wedding dress shopping with her little sister. 

She had to make an effort to share in Mel’s joy.

Seeing her sister’s beaming face as she modelled the first dress made the effort a little less…effortful. Her smile turned real, her mood lightening a bit as appraised the gown. The white silk was unadorned. Simple, but elegant. And the bias cut provided the illusion of curves on her sister’s still too-thin frame. 

The serum had worked its promised miracle. The first injection had brought Mel’s out of her coma. The second injection had given her the strength to leave hospital. The third had helped her regain all the power in her legs, restored the damaged neurones in her brain and completely reversed all the effects of the genetic disease. 

She was completely cured. 

Mel did a twirl - showing off the daring back of the dress - and repeated her question. “Well, do you like this one, Emmy?” She asked, using her childhood nickname. 

MJ swallowed and suppressed the tears gathering in her eyes. She got choked up every time she compared this new version of her sister - the healthy, glowing one, so full of vitality and life - with the one she’d discovered five months ago on her return to England. 

She’d stumbled into the ICU bay straight from the airport, the precious vials of serum concealed in the luggage she dragged behind her. She’d passed a fast-asleep Jack in the corridor outside, meaning her sister was alone when she found her. Tape covered her eyes; a breathing tube was secured to her face and multiple lines wove around her to connect to the machines standing guard. Instead of an excited ‘hello’ she was greeted by the beeps and hisses from that machinery, her sister silent and near death-

“Earth to Emmy!” Mel called, hands now on her hips in frustration. 

MJ cleared her throat and banished the memory of that night. “You look amazing, Melly,” she said, truthfully. “It’s a winner.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “It’s only the first one! I’m not going to buy the first one I try on, not after waiting so long for this. When I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off and her smile dipped. 

‘When I didn’t think I’d ever get this chance.’ MJ finished the sentence in her head. She rose from her seat and joined Mel in the little fitting area. She took her sister’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “Then we’ll go to every shop in this city and you can try on every dress they have until you find the one.”

Mel nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What are sisters for?”

 ———

 Later that day, exhausted from dress shopping and full from dinner at one of their favourite restaurants, they collapsed on the sofa. 

“Dessert may have been a mistake,” Mel said, rubbing her stomach. 

“It didn’t look like a mistake when you were wolfing it down earlier,” MJ teased, bringing her slipper-covered feet up on the couch. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I can’t seem to stop eating.” 

“You’re making up for lost time. You never had much of an appetite these last few years.” MJ explained. “Either that, or you’re knocked up.”

Mel threw a cushion at her. “Don’t even joke about that! My friends all think I’m crazy getting married so young, let alone becoming a mum.”

MJ broached the subject she’d been skirting around ever since the engagement was formally announced. “Are you sure? About the getting married part? I know you love Jack, but you guys talked about marriage when you were sick and-“

“And now there’s no expiration date on it?” Mel finished, nodding. 

“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you now - you could do anything.”

“And I will do anything. And everything. With Jack.” She shrugged. “He’s the one for me.”

“You sound so sure.”

Mel plucked at a stray thread on the cushion in her lap. “I don’t have a lot of memories of Maman and Papa, but I remember how they used to be around each other. That connection they had. How in sync they always were, finishing each other’s sentences, and having whole conversations with one look. They were like a fairytale Prince and Princess to me, and I remember always hoping to find that myself. And I have, with Jack.” She shrugged again. “We complete each other.”

MJ nodded, lost in her own memories of her parent’s relationship. It really had been something special…

“Emmy?” Her sister’s voice was hesitant. 

“What?”

“Will you tell me? About Peter?”

She shook her head - the motion instinctual and automatic. But Mel persisted. “Please? I think you need to. You’ve been so depressed since you came back-“

“I haven’t been depressed. I’m so happy for you, and I love seeing you so healthy. It was all worth it.”

She’d told her sister everything a few months ago. Well, almost everything. She’d told her about her powers. About the real reason she’d been in New York. About how she stole the serum and how Allard was now out of their lives. 

Mel leaned over to grasp her hands. “You have no idea how grateful I am. All those things you went through over the past year…living that double life, being so alone, putting yourself in danger…and it was all for me. I can never repay you-“

“You don’t have to repay me. I did it because you’re my sister and I love you.”

“Well, you’re my sister and I love you, and I want you to be happy. And I think Peter makes you happy.”

Peter had made her happy - deliriously so. She’d only known him a matter of months, but she felt that connection Mel spoke of. That he was the only one meant for her. Meeting him had felt like a moment of clarity and revelation. As if she’d been waiting to find him her whole life. As if everything that came before him was just a prelude. 

Her life could be divided into ‘before Peter’ and ‘after Peter’.

And the ‘after Peter’ part really, really sucked.

But she didn’t deserve him. He was better off without her. 

MJ shook her head and smiled sadly. “He did make me happy. But it’s over, Mel.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” her romantic, overly optimistic sister replied. “If you just explain everything to him-“

“He already knows. I told him everything - about you, the serum, my powers. But it was too little, too late. I lied to him for so long.”

“But there were extenuating circumstances!” Her sister cried, becoming frustrated. “If he knew the kind of person you really are, the person you were before all this-“

MJ laughed bitterly. “That person doesn’t really exist anymore, Melly. The last year changed me. The things I had to do, the choices I made…they changed me.”

Mel looked on the verge of tears. “I feel so responsible. You did it all for me-“

“Yes, and I don’t regret it. I don’t want you to feel guilty, ever. I made those choices because I’m selfish. I just… I couldn’t lose you too. It’s not your fault, OK?” 

Mel nodded, looking somewhat reassured. 

And MJ realised she felt a bit better too. Maybe Mel was right - she did need to talk about Peter. She’d been bottling this all up for so long…

“I showed Peter the real me all along,” she explained. “I may have had different faces and names, but I was always me. I never put on an act with him. The problem is, he doesn’t believe that. He thinks I’m a stranger now.” 

“So convince him he’s wrong.” 

She shook her head. “He doesn’t trust me anymore, Mel. I don’t think he ever will. I deceived him too much, about too many things.”

Mel sat up straight, her stubbornness kicking in. “Well, you’re never going to change his mind all the way over here.”

“My life is here,” she protested.

“What life?” Mel scoffed. “You’re bunking in my spare room. You have no friends except me and Jack and you do nothing but go to work, eat and sleep.”

“Hey!” She lightly punched her sister’s arm. “I’m just trying to work out what I want to do now. I feel like…”

“What?”

“That I want to do more with these abilities. Somehow. I was inspired seeing how Pe-“ she caught herself just in time - that wasn’t her secret to share. “Spider-man helped people. He was gifted with unexpected powers too-”

“Yeah, but his helps him fight crime. You can just heal yourself and change your face. Speaking of which….” She looked excited now. “When do you think my powers will kick in?”

MJ laughed. “It took a while, so don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“I can’t believe you kept it from me all these years,” she said, punching her back. 

“I didn’t want to rub it in your face!” 

The sisters teased each other and laughed for the rest of the night before turning in. MJ’s smile was real as she hugged her sister good night, feeling a respite from the numb detachment she’d felt since returning to England. 

But she dreamed of Peter. 

Of the hurt on his face and the pain in his voice during their confrontation.

Of him leaving her. Swinging away into the distance.

And when she woke…the world was grey again.  

 ———

 Peter wearily trudged up the stairs to his Aunt’s house, trying to ignore the twinges of pain from his middle back. He pulled the door handle, grumbling under his breath when the door swung open. “May!” he called walking down the hallway. “Why is the door unlocked? You know its not safe.” 

“Don’t take that tone, young man,” she replied as he entered the kitchen. “I knew you were on your way. It would be locked otherwise.”

Abashed, he bent down to kiss her cheek in greeting. “Hi.”

She caught him by the shoulders and inspected his face for a long moment. “You look terrible.”

“Lovely to see you too,” he joked. But she was right - he looked like crap. Every time he glanced in a mirror, the lines on his face seemed more ingrained, the circles under his eyes darker. It had gotten to the stage that he avoided his reflection as much as possible. 

“Peter…” She sounded worried, so he tried to reassure her. 

“I just haven’t been sleeping much lately. It’ll get better.”

“Honey, its been almost six months since Jane-“

“Its got nothing to do with Jane,” he snapped. “I’ve just been busy with Spider-man stuff.”

It was true. He’d been spending more time in the suit lately than out of it. Hence, the back pain. 

But why not? It’s not like ‘Peter’ had much of a life to keep him occupied. No job, save the occasional freelance photography gig; no friends; no girlfriend…He’d even been avoiding his weekly dinners with May, until she’d put her foot down and insisted he show up tonight. “And her name is MJ, remember?”

“I remember,” May said harshly, taking a casserole out the oven. She hadn't taken the news of MJ's lies well. “But whatever her name is, you obviously miss her and-”

“No,” he said firmly. “MJ is a stranger to me, and Jane was a figment of someone else’s imagination. I can’t miss someone I never knew.” 

He was trying hard to stay deep in the denial stage of grief over the end of their relationship…and he didn’t appreciate his Aunt’s attempts to drag him out of it. “How’s work going?”

May frowned at him. “We can change the subject after I get one thing off my chest.”

He sighed in resignation. There was no stopping her in this mood. “Go on.”

“After Gwen died, you were a shadow of your former self. For years. There was always this darkness hanging over you. Jane - or MJ, or whatever she was called - lifted that darkness. You were so happy with her…it was like I’d gotten my Peter back.”

“May…” Peter said, not sure he wanted to hear this. 

She carried on. “I don’t want you to retreat back to that darkness. I can see the signs of it - the bruises on your face, the fact that you’re out as Spider-man all hours of the day and night…and it scares me.”

“May, I’m OK.”

“You’re not okay,” she said, taking his hand. “I was so proud of you for opening yourself up and taking another chance on love-“

“Yeah, and look where it got me,” he said, bitterly. 

She sighed. “Please, don’t be like that. I want you to be open like that again in the future.  You deserve to be happy, Peter. 

He looked away and tried to tug his hand free, but her grip was tight. 

“No, Peter. Look at me.” 

He did, and saw the sorrow in her eyes. “Don’t use this experience as an excuse to shut yourself away again. Learn from it, and move on from her. I know you’ll find the perfect person for you one day. Someone better. And-”

“I thought there was just gonna be ‘one more thing’?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood.  

“Well, maybe if you came to visit more often I wouldn’t have to save all these things up!” 

He managed a chuckle and gave her a contrite look. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “All I was going to say was, please be careful out there. I don’t like the idea of you putting yourself in danger when you’re not in the right headspace.”

Peter smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I am being careful, I promise.”

She seemed placated by that and they enjoyed a relaxed dinner together, with her doing most of the talking. He didn’t stay long afterwards, making an excuse to leave earlier than usual. May waved to him goodbye as she stood on the stoop and he smiled in return as he walked to the subway.

But the moment he was out of sight, his smile dropped and he sighed. 

He hated lying to his Aunt. 

But that’s what he’d done. 

 ———

 The truth was…he wasn’t being as careful as he should be as Spider-man. 

Often these days, his actions were bordering on the down right reckless. In the pursuit of pushing his body into the exhausted state he needed to quiet thoughts of MJ…he wasn’t being as vigilant or cautious as he should-

Peter’s head snapped to the side as the punch connected. 

Case in point.

These assholes should not have been able to get the drop on him. 

He was on the trail of the bus bomber he’d encountered the previous summer. Since that day, the bomber had successfully hit two more cities across the country, killing several people in explosions after first being paid ransom money. 

But now law enforcement were on to him, and the ransoms had stopped. 

So the bomber had upped his game. 

Director Fury had contacted Peter a few weeks ago to warn him. SHIELD suspected the bomber had gotten hold of some chemical material, so Fury had asked him to keep a look out and report any suspicious activity in New York. 

But Peter wasn’t used to working as a team, his brief foray into the multiverse not withstanding, and when he’d caught sight of some “suspicious activity” by the docks, he’d investigated himself. And discovered that an old fishing trawler was serving as the bomber’s base. 

So tonight he’d snuck aboard. 

His footsteps light on the ladder, Peter had descended to the lower decks, his senses alert for any crew-slash-gang members. Because, as he’d also discovered, the bomber had a following - acolytes in his mission of chaos. 

An eerie glow had greeted Peter as he reached the floor level, and it led him to the cargo hold. Instead of bomb-making equipment, he'd found dozens of canisters secured to wire shelves.  Each contained a bright purple gas that swirled and shifted inside the glass tube. 

Well that’s not ominous at all, he thought to himself.

Peter surveyed the scene with dismay. There were too many canisters for him to carry out safely. And he couldn’t destroy them without knowing what they contained...

He would have to call Fury after all. He turned to leave and suddenly ducked, his spidey-sense alerting him to the tire iron being swung at his head. He spun in a crouch, seeing three guys in front of him.

And they were wearing yellow Hazmat suits. 

No, not ominous AT ALL.

“I know you guys are evil henchman, but don’t you think the minion costumes are a little on the nose?” Peter quipped.

The hulking brute on the right - the one clenching the tire iron - came charging. Peter backflipped out of the way and that’s when the fourth member of the gang - the one who’d appeared from behind the shelves - sucker-punched him.

Peter’s head snapped to the side but he recovered in seconds, knocking the guy unconscious with his return punch. Tire Iron Guy swung again but Peter caught the weapon with a web and sent it flying. He heard it clatter to the concrete floor as he strung up the brute with more webs. With him incapacitated, Peter launched a web at the ceiling and swung, using the momentum to kick the other two in the head, taking them both down simultaneously. 

He grabbed a canister - evidence for SHIELD - and raced back up the ladder. He sprinted down the deck, the gangway off of the ship getting closer and closer. But just as he reached it, a shot rang out. The canister in his hand exploded into a plume of glass and purple vapour. The wind whipped the gas up and right into his face. 

He leapt away from the toxic fumes, back towards the centre of the boat. The gunman descended slowly from the flight deck and Peter recognised his face from SHIELD’s dossier. 

It was the bomber. 

“I have to do everything myself around here,” the man muttered.

Peter opened his mouth to reply, planning to stall for time while he sorted out his exit strategy…but what emerged was a wet-sounding cough. The copper-rich taste of blood flooded his mouth as he staggered to his knees. 

“What you’re experiencing,” the bomber explained, stopping a safe distance away, “is the first stage of acute radiation poisoning. The symptoms normally take a couple of hours to manifest, but I devised a way to accelerated the effects. You’re a dead man swinging, Spider-man.” He chuckled at his own pathetic joke.

Peter collapsed to the ground. Pain ripped through his chest, his lungs on fire.  

“What should we do with him, boss?” One of the recovered henchman asked. It was the one who’d sucker-punched him. 

“Push him overboard. We need to leave in case that gas drew any attention.” The bomber motioned to the purple mist which was now dissipating in the air. 

Peter’s vision blurred as the Hazmat suit came closer. He tried to crawl away from him but he had no strength in his limbs. He felt a hard kick in his side and it propelled him off the deck. 

The shock of the freezing water temporarily revived him, the fog of pain clearing for a brief moment.

And that clarity brought only one person to mind. 

MJ.

Then agony reared its head again and took him under. 

 ———

 “And finally, Bed 2 needs a new cannula.” 

MJ finished the handover from her night shift and left the doctor’s office, dragging her feet down the corridor to the changing room.  She couldn’t wait to swap her scrubs for her jeans and get the hell out of this place. She was coming off the back of a series of nights and she was wiped. She could have used her abilities to boost her energy…but the energy that would take would defeat the purpose. 

She’d have to recover like a normal person - with a greasy breakfast and a lot of sleep. 

She had no one else to blame for her exhaustion. She was working as a locum doctor and controlled how many and what kinds of shifts she volunteered for. And she’d chosen to volunteer for all of them. Work kept her busy, and busy was good.

Busy was safe. 

When she was busy, she didn’t think about him as much.  She didn’t wonder how he was doing and if he was being safe and if he was thinking about her and-

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts.

It had been six months. She needed to move on. Get her shit together, and her life in order. 

It was true what she’d told Mel - she did want to use her gifts more. To make a difference, like Spider-man. Like Peter. 

But it was easier said than done. Each shift she would try to use her abilities to heal someone on the ward, like she had with Peter. 

But she could never get it to work. She could never manage to forge that connection between her mind and someone else’d body.

Why could she only do it with Peter?

She was still a good doctor, regardless - there wasn’t a physician dead or alive who had more of an understanding of how the body worked on a cellular and molecular level. But she couldn’t heal anyone. 

It was so frustrating. 

She wanted to use these powers for good. To atone for what she’d done in New York, to Peter and to others. The people she’d tricked and used. 

The poor victims of Allard’s illegal trials, whom she’d allowed to suffer while she waited for the right moment to take Allard down. 

They haunted her the most. 

During the odd moments where she was feeling charitable to herself she tried to reason that she couldn’t have saved them all. It had taken her a long time to amass enough evidence on Allard. But that reasoning never stuck. Because there had come a point when she had enough evidence to hand over to the authorities…and still she’d waited. Because she needed the serum first. 

When she saw her sister - the spark of life in her eyes, and the healthy glow to her skin - it felt like the ends justified the means. But living with those means on her conscience was hard. 

MJ glanced up at the large TV screen in the waiting area as she passed, the giant red ‘Breaking News’ banner catching her eye. Then she jerked to a halt, her heart lurching in her chest as she saw the shaky phone camera footage on screen.  

It was of Spider-man on the deck of a ship. 

Being engulfed in purple gas…

…falling to his knees…

…being pushed into the sea…

…and swallowed up by the inky-black water.

She gripped the back of the chair in front of her, her legs weak with terror.  She tried to focus on the news anchor’s words through the buzzing in her ears. “That shocking footage was taken by an eye witness to Spider-man’s poisoning. New York’s famous superhero was engaged in a fight with Benson Shepherd - the mastermind behind the recent spate of bombings across the country - when he as exposed to a radioactive substance. He was rescued from the water shortly after and transported to a medical facility in the city, where he is reported to be in a coma due to the effects of acute radiation syndrome. Shepherd’s boat was commandeered by the US Coastguard minutes later and he was taken into custody by….”

MJ dropped to her knees and sobbed with relief. 

Peter was alive. 

He was alive. 

“Are you alright, Dr Watson?” A gentle hand landed on her shoulder.

MJ glanced up at one of the porters that worked on the ward. She wiped her eyes and got to her feet. “Yes, thank you, Sam. I’m just a bit tired.”

Sam looked at her sceptically but nodded and continued on his way.

MJ turned back to the TV screen, and read the updated banner: ‘Spider-man in coma.’

He was in a coma.

She knew first hand how advanced his healing abilities were. For him to be comatose, the situation must be dire. 

And there was no treatment for radiation sickness. No cure.

No cure…except for her.

She needed to go to New York.

NOW.

CHAPTER 15

[whentheresnosuchthingastime]

i’m sorry, what?

~2.3k, tasm!peter x oc, set a few weeks after the events of nwh, warnings: mentions of fire and death but it’s mostly just banter and emotions

kind-of-starving artist and chronic overthinker maria jeanquart runs into an old acquaintance in possibly the most unexpected of ways.

(and yes of course i’d love andrew’s mj to be a guy, this is just a product of college tiredness and the need for escapism)

maybe i’ll write more of this who knows!!

By the time her brain had stopped screaming long enough to actually take in her surroundings, only one thought could squeeze through:

If I was on a TV show, they’d freeze-frame this moment and throw in a “yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

One second, she’d been eating a box of mac and cheese straight out of the pot; her mind must have shut off out of panic after the first scream of “fire”, because she barely remembered a thing between then and now. Now, the next moment, during which she was whipping through the New York sky, watching as her floormates and the other residents-having presumably also been saved by the masked boy she was currently clinging tightly to, the man she’d thought was a tabloid myth-ran to safety.

Her brain may have stopped screaming, but she didn’t realize until she was set on a rooftop that her voice had kept right on going until she was finally stable.

“...Sorry about that.”

“It’s no problem,” the apparent Spider-Man responded. “That was an impressively solid E flat, by the way.”

She laughed, attempting a mock bow-wait I still don’t have equilibrium not a good idea NOT A GOOD IDEA-and managed to catch herself before she fell.

“Well, thank you. For the whole, uh…saving lives thing. Just-where exactly are we?”

“The top of-well, I’m pretty sure this is a library-”

“Oh, good,” she interrupted, looking around to get her bearings. “I think I remember this now; I used to work here in high school. There’s a way to get down into the building from here.”

“Great,” he said, walking backwards toward the edge of the rooftop. “In that case, I think I’m gonna go.”

“Wonderful, thanks. Have, uh…have a good day.”

I’m really talking to someone who saved my life as if he’s offering me a coupon at a grocery store…but there’s some sort of weird familiarity. Well, this was definitely an interesting encounter. I’ll have a story for sure.

But he hadn’t actually left yet. He’d been looking out at the city, seeming about to swing off of the roof, but stopped for a moment, his head cocked to the side.

“What is it?”

He turned for a moment, lost in thought, and shook his head.

“Nothing, it’s just-I could swear I recognize your voice,” he said.

Her heartbeat was finally starting to slow back to normal, and she caught her breath as the conversation-along with a realization-gradually caught up to her.

There was a reason he didn’t seem like a stranger.

“...And I could swear I recognize yours.”

Peter Parker.

At her words, the eyes of the suit almost seemed to widen as if comically saying I shouldn’t have said anything. Stepping further backwards with a wave, he rambled something about how he really should be going just as a flock of birds flew directly in his way. He stumbled forward, trying to make the movement seem intentional, and looked at her again.

“Yeah, that’s-then-that’s probably because I’ve talked on the news sometimes, you know, trying to help the city and all that-but, uh, are you a singer or something? Because that’s probably why-”

“Kind of,” she said with a smile. “I was lucky to get an off-Broadway job a year out of college, and since then it’s been the whole show-to-show, not-completely-starving-artist thing. I did a lot of theatre in school, too.”

“That’s probably it, then,” he said offhandedly. “I don’t really get out much otherwise.”

As she gave a nod of understanding, a slight smile started to make its way onto her face.

…I’m gonna figure this out.

“Yeah, high school was really something,” she sighed, sitting on the edge of the rooftop and patting the space next to her, where he sat after a moment of consideration. “I went to, uh, Midtown Science High. Not exactly well-known for its arts programs, obviously, but it didn’t have that name until my sophomore year, and by then I was kind of stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Yeah, my family couldn’t have afforded any of those big performing arts schools. I wish I could have just enjoyed the ‘teenage experience’ more, but I used to watch the Jimmy Awards on TV and cry because I wasn’t there,” she said with what was almost a laugh, staring out over the city before remembering why she was telling him this in the first place. “Sorry if that’s a bit too personal.”

“No, believe me, I’ve heard stories a lot more personal than that,” he said. “I get it, though. That feeling of not wanting to waste your youth, yet knowing there’s something else calling you?”

“...Exactly.”

A short yet strikingly comfortable silence passed, and she looked at him intently.

Even if this isn’t who I think it is, at least I kind of made a friend today.

It’s nice, the chance to be reminded that I can understand someone.

“But you were good in those shows,” Spider-Man said, “at least, I’m sure you were.”

“Judging by my previous screams?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he laughed. “How was, uh, what was that high school theatre experience like?”

Okay, this is how I find out. I’m sure I’ll be able to tell his reactions through that mask…somehow.

“Well, it was definitely chaotic. Lots of stories, lots of memories, lots of long rehearsals.”

She looked over to see that he was nodding, staring straight ahead into the sky as if overthinking every word of the conversation.

Here we go.

This is…not at all how I used to imagine telling him, but here we go.

“I always looked forward to, uh, photo call rehearsals the most.”

His head turned sharply toward her, and it took every ounce of her years of acting training to keep back a smirk.

“Why is that?”

“There was this boy they often sent over from the yearbook.”

…Yeah, there’s no point in trying to study his face. He’s expressive, but there’s only so much one can tell with a mask.

I guess that’s the point.

Anyway.

“He’d literally come skateboarding down the aisles to get the best shots, camera in hand, and the director used to stop rehearsal to yell at him,” she recalled fondly, dropping the act and nearly allowing herself to slip into the memory.

“Tell me, uh-tell me more about this guy.”

“Well, he was very awkwardly eloquent, and he had these big, soulful brown eyes, and I never told anyone, but I had such a crush on him. Didn’t do anything about it, though. We were acquaintances, talked a few times, but generally ran in different circles-not to mention that he had a girlfriend by senior year, of course, this fantastically smart blonde who’s probably out somewhere kicking ass with sciency stuff. I haven’t thought about all of this in so long-I should look her up, see what she’s doing now,” she mused, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Okay, Google search results, what have you got for me-

Gwen Stacy.

Gwen Stacy valedictorian.

Gwen Stacy future career.

Gwen Stacy death.

…Oh, my God.

She stared unblinkingly down at her phone as she clicked through articles, feeling like the wind was knocked out of her all over again.

Gwen, brilliant Gwen, the girl she never knew well but who was genuinely kind to every single person, the girl she’d always admired and even envied, the girl who’d cried with her once in the school bathroom during college applications near the end of junior year. They’d talked about their parents, about the endless pressure and expectations; that one conversation, that one assurance that she wasn’t alone, had carried her until graduation.

And now that assurance, that radiance…

Now she was gone.

“Peter, I…I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head for the first time in what felt like ages and looked over at Spider-Man, who seemed to have been slightly deflated.

His voice came out in a whisper.

“Peter? I don’t know who-I don’t know what you’re-I’m sure she must have been very nice, but…goddamnit.”

He stood up without looking at her and moved toward a crevice in a metal structure on the roof, somewhere he couldn’t be seen, and she followed him without quite knowing why. Once safe from the outside, he pulled off his mask, revealing those amber eyes that she recognized in an instant.

All she could do was whisper through her tears.

“Peter.”

“Maria Jeanquart,” he said with half a smile, meeting her gaze for the first time.

She practically melted at the sound of her name, launching into a panicked explanation and apology.

“I am so sorry. I really didn’t know, I should have tried to keep in touch with her, and I should have known, but I was trying so hard to get away from high school, and-and I shouldn’t have brought any of this up at all, my brain wasn’t quite present because, you know, my apartment caught on fire, but that’s not an excuse, and I was excited and I thought it was you and I shouldn’t have pushed you and-oh, God, you must think I’m so insensitive-”

“Hey, hey,” he said, cautiously bringing his hand to her arm. “That’s another reason I recognized you. You’re always apologizing.”

She blinked, slightly struck.

“You’re not wrong.”

More silence passed, understandably a bit more fraught this time, and she watched as he stared upward, trying to blink away a few of his own stray tears.

“I’m really…” she began and trailed off before clearing her throat, “My deepest sympathies for your loss.”

He nodded, still looking at the sky.

“Yeah,” came his voice after a moment, pensive with a slight rasp of emotion. “It’s been a few years. And it’s been hard, really hard, but recently…”

She tilted her head to the side, a compassionate curiosity taking hold as he continued.

“Recently I got the chance to redeem myself, and I finally took it.”

“What do you mean, redeem yourself?” she asked softly.

Even more silence fell, followed by a deep breath from Peter before he spoke again.

“I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Gwen, and it’s because of me she was in danger in the first place. That’s why I try-key word, try-not to tell anyone anymore, that’s the real purpose of the whole secret identity thing, but-whatever. A while ago, a similar situation was about to happen to someone who was practically my brother; he was about to lose someone he cared deeply for. And I…I was able to save her.”

He paused for a moment, blinking away the last of his tears.

“Along with the very fabric of the universe, but that was really more of a group effort.”

A fully unexpected laugh burst out of her, and it was joined for a beautifully cathartic moment before dying down again.

“Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah. It feels like I’m…getting back to myself.”

“Good.”

If this was still a TV show, the title of the episode would be some sort of pun relating to prolonged silences…

“Do you want to get a coffee sometime?”

…and the subtitle of the episode would be something to do with surprised blinking.

“Um-actually?”

“Yeah, I mean-yeah. Like I said, the last thing I want to do is put anyone else in danger, it’s part of my responsibility as Spider-Man, but the thing is, I…”

Seems we both ramble too much.

“You want to try being Peter again?”

He nodded, a very real smile hinting to break through. For a moment, she was almost transported back a few years, and she allowed herself only the slightest flutter of excitement before responding to the initial question.

“Of course. I’d love to hear about the very fabric of the universe.”

“And I about your off-Broadway escapades.”

“Basically super equal experiences.”

“Both extremely exciting.”

“Absolutely.”

Although his tone was light, there was something so earnest in the way he talked, something that almost convinced her that he was equally as genuinely interested.

The very fabric of the universe had been at stake, and now they were going to get a coffee sometime.

“I do have to get going,” he said as he put his mask back on, and she nodded.

“Gotta get back to saving the world, I’m sure.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“And, look, I really am sorry about everything I said-”

“Maria.”

…God, having this name never gets old.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned-well, scratch that, if there’s one of a million things I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that what we perceive as our failings don’t define us.”

“Right, yeah,” she said as they made their way to the edge of the rooftop. “And what really matters is what we do with it. How we make things right.”

“How we take responsibility,” he finished, a jokingly pompous accent masking the genuine wisdom he’d grown into.

“Spoken like a true hero,” she said with a lopsided, still slightly disbelieving smile.

“And where are you off to next?”

She let out a breath as she looked around the city once more.

“Well, it’s just at this moment hitting me that I don’t have a home right now.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We’re not that far away, it looks like the firefighters have long since put the thing out by now; if you want, I could swing you over there and try to help with the damage, you could see how much of your stuff was salvaged, etcetera.”

“That would probably be best, thanks.”

“Okay, hang on.”

It was a blur how she’d grasped onto him the first time, given that most of her brainpower was put towards not being consumed in flames, but now there was a bit of awkward awareness in the close proximity, and she could almost sense his smile through the mask.

“Tell me again how you had such a crush on this photographer?”

“Oh, shut up,” she grinned, the last word sharply upticking in pitch and turning into a whoop as they took off and swung into the skyline.