#they're like multiple octaves in his voice apart

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

in terms of voice and mood, Griffin "play with me!" McElroy is the polar antonym of Griffin "play with the form" McElroy

[hvllanders]

Can you make something were y/n just moved in across from peter and may makes him introduce him and soon they're best friends. But y/n gets abused by her fater and peter does not know. Her father is a assain witch she doesnt know but peter has to stop him while accidentaly reveling himself! sorry that was really long...

hahahaha okay so in my defense this started off really serious and devolved into kinda ridiculous fluff but it was a lot of fun to write and hopefully fun to read as well. 

enjoy assassin fathers + peter parker being a dork + random crossbows that apparently assassins just keep lying around

It’s hard not to contemplate your life decisions when the barrel of a gun is pressed against your temple. Hard not to reflect on what happened. Hard not to think of anything but the sudden recognition of your own vitality, your heart pulsing through your legs, your wrists, your throat.

“You had one job.”

You closed your eyes. You knew this. You knewthis. “Not to tell.” Your voice was a whisper.

“Exactly.”

And yet, what were you supposed to do? It wasn’t your fault that a few months ago a gangly boy with freckles and a gap-toothed smile had shown up on your door, blushing and stammering out a greeting. Wasn’t your fault that his apartment, his aunt, her casserole had become a safe haven from your father’s life of crime. It wasn’t your fault you had let slip that you were scared to come home every night. Wasn’t your fault your dad had drank too much. Again.

The metal dug into your forehead. You tried to stop your breath from shaking. Don’t show fear. Don’t show fear.

“Dad-”

The safety clicked off. You didn’t move. You squinted your eyes closed as hard as you could. Bracing.

Thwip!

There was a crashing noise, and suddenly the gun was away from your forehead, and you were knocked against the ground, eyes flying open.

“What in the hell?” your father roared, because suddenly there was a red and blue clad someone hanging from your ceiling. Your father’s gun in their hand.

Spider-Man, some part of your brain that wasn’t completely in shock registered. You recognized him from some YouTube videos. And one time he had given you part of a sandwich while you were walking home from school.

“Thanks for the gun, man!” the hero said, twisting the weapon in his palms until, with a screech, it was bent in half. “Looks a little bit better this way, don’t ya think?”

Mistake, mistake, mistake, some part of your brain screamed, because you knew your father had multiple weapons lying around, he was an assassin for crying out loud, and in one moment there was a crossbow leveled at Spider-Man.

“Don’t move,” your father growled.

Spidey’s hands raised, since he was still upside-down, towards the ground. “Woah, okay, man. Careful where you’re aiming that crossbow.”

“You caught me by surprise the first time, but don’t try and pull that web shit again.”

“You got it, Mr. Assassin, sir. Absolutely no more web shit. None. I promise.” His head tilted to the side. “You know, I’ve been tracking you for a while now, and I honestly didn’t think you’d live hereof all places. Like, honestly! Just a nice domestic life; you come home, you wail on your kid, you go out, assassinate some folks or whatever it is you like to do to-”

WHAM. You knocked your father to the ground, causing the crossbow to skittle out of his reach.

“Nice!” Spider-Man exclaimed, taking the opportunity to web your father up until he was nothing more than a cocoon on the ground. “Y/N, that rocked! Great timing, would pair up with you again, would recommend, 11/10 teamwork.”

You frowned, hand still clutching the crossbow.

He continued. “So, I’ll, uh, be taking your dad with me, then, I guess. Into custody. So he can’t hurt anyone else. That’s, that’s okay with you right? Oh, this is kinda awkward, I’ve never really been involved in family matters before- sorry if I’m not playing this right.”

“That’s…that’s fine.” You could have cared less about anything involving your dad. “I just…how did you know my name.”

“What?” he looked up from where he was dragging your father’s bound body across the floor.

“You knew my name,” you repeated. “You said, ‘Y/N, that rocked!’”

“I, uh,” he paused, and then his voice deepened by several octaves into a false sort of bravado, “I make it a priority to know all the citizen’s names around this area. Just a part of the job.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Yep. Just a part of the job. I already said that. Right. Well. I need to get going. You know what they say! More crime to stop!” He inched further towards the open window.

“Okay.” Did something about his voice seem familiar to you? “Do I…have we met before?”

“Nope! Nopenope, definite nope, nada, zip, zilch on that one. Anyway, as the kids say, g2g!” He perched on the windowsill, father still struggling under one arm. “Also, completely unrelated, but you should ask Peter Parker to work with you on the history project.” He shot a web onto an opposite building. “I, uh, saw him earlier today and he was talking about it.”

Swinging off into the night, you watched him fall from your window, father in his grasp, and crash right into the wall of the alley across your apartment.

“I’m good!” he called up, before you could ask. “No worries! I meant for that to happen!”

“If you say so,” you called down after him, smiling slightly despite yourself. “Just be careful!”

“I always am!” he yelled back. “And don’t forget! History project! Peter! He really likes you!”

You rolled your eyes. “I won’t forget.”

You really liked him too.

tags: (it didn’t let me link some ppl so if you’re on here but didn’t get a notif, sorry!)

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