Tasm!peter Parker X Reader - Tumblr Posts

another world [1]

after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.

[2] [3]

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

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Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.

We shall meet again.

[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.

"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."

"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."

Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.

"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.

The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."

Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?

"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."

A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.

The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.

"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."

[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."

May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."

As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.

"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.

There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.

"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."

It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.

So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.

May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.

"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."

[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.

"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."

The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.

"I really, really hope you're proud of me."

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It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.

"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."

[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.

She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.

The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.

Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?

The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.

[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.

J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"

That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.

The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."

Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?

The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.

"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.

The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.

[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.

That's wasn't Peter.

Venomed

Summary: What once was a beautiful relationship with Peter, turns quite venomous…

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death.

Notes: Fun fact, I first started this blog with a venom!reader x peter parker story (that I never got around to finishing, whoops) so here’s my attempt at one with tasm! Peter. hope you enjoy ♡

Part 2 Part 3

Part 1

“We can’t do this anymore,” he says.

There's tears in his eyes and it makes you angry because how dare he act like this is hurting him as much as it is you when he’s the one choosing to do this.

“Peter, don’t….”

“I’m not going to go through this again. I can’t go through this again. Please don’t reach out to me. Don’t call me, don’t even think about me. I’m going to stay away and for this to work, I need you to do the same.”

Your eyes are clouded with unshed tears and you dig your nails into your palm to keep them at bay because he doesn’t deserve your tears. Not when he’s willingly putting you through this.

“You…you said you loved me,” is all you let out, and you see the muscles in his neck tense up.

“That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”

A tear falls down his face and you instinctively reach out to him but he immediately steps back.

“I don’t get a say?” you ask and your voice cracks and you curse yourself for being so weak in front of him.

You wish you were stronger. You wish you could be angrier. Anything to show him that you didn’t give a damn about him breaking your heart because someone that put you through this much pain didn’t truly love you and didn’t deserve for you to love them back.

“You get to say goodbye.”

But you were never in control of anything when it came to Peter Parker.

“I can’t leave you without telling you why. It’s selfish of me, but I need you to know that it isn’t because I didn’t love you or because you did anything wrong. I…I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just don’t want your entire life to be spent with me.”

He takes a shaky breath.

“Gwen she….her life was cut short because of me and I…I’m not going to let that happen to you. I refuse,” he says firmly.

You nod slowly, taking in his words.

You’re not going to win this fight. Not when he just admitted that he’s no longer going to fight for you.

“I hate you,” you say surprisingly, eyes locked on his.

He gives you a watery smile but the sadness in his eyes makes it look pathetic.

“Good.”

And he turns around and walks away.

Just like that.

Leaves you alone in front of your favorite Italian restaurant with the take away container of half eaten spaghetti in your hand.

It was your anniversary today.

He broke up with you on your fucking anniversary.

“Asshole!” you scream, but he's completely out of your sight by now and you're not sure if he even heard you and part of you hopes he didn’t because you don’t mean it.

You knew why he was doing this. You knew it was coming sooner or later.

His nightmares were getting worse. He would wake up sweating and shaking and screaming and you would immediately embrace him, rubbing small circles in his back and kissing the top of his head and telling him it was ok because you knew what he was dreaming of.

He never fully recovered from Gwen’s death.

The tenants from the apartment building you both shared had let you know about his high school sweetheart’s passing before you even had a chance to meet him.

“Poor guy, completely devastated about her, even though it’s been two years. Heard it was a freak accident at a clock tower. One of those whackos after Spider-Man. That’s why you shouldn’t get mixed up in that crap,” one of your neighbors, an old man by the name of Charlie, had told you when you first moved in.

You knew Peter Parker was the man who lived right across from you, his mailbox being right on top of yours in the mailroom. You were intrigued by him, only getting to see him when he went in and out of his apartment, never even being able to talk to him. But now, knowing exactly why he was so mysterious, you were completely devastated.

You couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. So, determined to help, you made it your mission to be as friendly and courteous of a neighbor as you could be.

Whenever you would bake, you would leave tupperware filled with cookies or brownies, or whatever it was you whipped up, at his door, with a little note that said “enjoy” accompanied by a little happy face.

He had caught you one day walking back to your door after dropping some off. You freeze, having halfway entered your apartment, eyes on him.

This was the first time you got more than a rushed glance at Peter and your heart beat rapidly in your chest because he was cute. Very cute.

You brought your hand up to signal a greeting to which he mimicked, albeit a little awkwardly, but he sent you a small smile that warmed up your whole body.

Later on that night, when you open the door to head out, you see a collection of your tupperware neatly placed on your entrance rug with a small note on top.

“Thank you” handwritten with a little happy face.

You couldn't stop smiling the entire night.

You both began to talk casually, exchanging small talk whenever you would cross paths while entering or exiting your respective apartments.

Soon enough he asks if he can have the recipe for your brownies and you suggest he comes over so you could teach him in person. Baking together becomes a common occurrence and even though Peter slightly burns everything he bakes, you always say they're delicious because the smile on his face is worth it every time.

You graduate from friendly neighbors to baking partners to best friends, and eventually he even confides in you his biggest secret.

Finding out he was Spider-Man admittedly threw you through a loop, but it didn’t change how you saw Peter. He was still your best friend and your friendly neighbor from across the hall. If anything, it just made your admiration for him grow, realizing just how selfless and amazing he was.

This, unfortunately, also helped you understand just how deeply Gwen’s death affected Peter.

“I killed her,” he had said one night, eyes red and hands shaking.

You comforted him that night. You comforted him every night since. You had a first aid kit on your nightstand, ready for whenever he knocked on your window after a night of patrolling, and hugs and words of love and encouragement whenever he needed it.

His guilt pained you, his confessions of feeling like it was all his fault eating you up on the inside. But you never tired of fighting him on it.

“You do so much, Pete. You always give it your all and I know you did all you could to save her that night. You need to forgive yourself,” you state, tears in your eyes as he sobs into your neck, arms wrapped around you almost desperately.

Peter carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and you tried everyday to help ease the pressure of it all.

With how close you two had gotten and how much you leaned on one another, it was, of course, inevitable that you fell in love with him.

Despite that, you refused to risk your friendship by confessing to him, knowing that he wasn’t ready to date, let alone love anyone else for that matter.

Yes, you loved Peter, but you were more than fine if he couldn’t love you back. You cared so much for him that you were just happy to have him in your life any way you could.

One day, though, he barges into your apartment.

You were in the middle of watching a bad reality show (a Jersey Shore rerun, you remember), when you turned your head to see him entering, rushing over to you.

“Hey Pete, what’s-”

Before you could even finish, his hands cup your face and he crashes his lips on yours. You’re frozen in place, brain trying to register what was happening, but your eyes slowly close and you're surprised to feel yourself kissing back.

When he parts, your eyes flutter open, and your senses finally start working again.

“Wow,” you breathe out.

“Sorry I just….I couldn’t get it out of my head. I needed to know what that would feel like,” he confesses, forehead resting on your’s as he catches his breath.

There’s a look in his eyes that makes your heart race and you suddenly feel shy under his intense gaze.

“Oh…o-ok. Um, how…how was it?” you ask.

“It was amazing, actually. Which is a problem.”

Your brows furrowed, worried.

“How so?”

“Because I want to do it again.”

Which he does.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The rest was history.

You could continue to think about all the good times, all the romantic moments and passionate memories you shared with Peter Parker, but it’s beginning to rain and you're still standing alone in front of the restaurant, container heavy in your hand.

You don’t remember how you got home, but you do, and you immediately throw yourself on the bed, arms grasping at a pillow as you dig your face in it and sob.

Your heart was completely shattered that night.

And though you refused to believe it, Peter’s was too.

As you layed in bed crying, the container of leftover pasta you left on your kitchen counter began to shake. It falls onto the ground and an odd black substance emerges from it and begins to crawl towards your bedroom. It slides under your door frame and makes its way up your bedpost before crawling on the bed and onto the pillow your head lay on.

You had fallen asleep by this point, dry tear stains on your cheeks.

Without stirring you awake, the black substance slithers it’s way into your ear, and you were none the wiser.

At that exact moment, from right across the hall, Peter had jolted awake from his sleep, screaming your name into the dark.

MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH HAPPINESS RN

how about tasm!peter helping reader overcome anxiety, but she has a hard time expressing herself to others, even about anxiety. but peter wants to help comfort her no matter what 🤍 don't need to write this if you don't want lol

AN | Okay, this got away from me, but I think it’s so cute! There’s also a first kiss🥰❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.9k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Parker was pretty. Really fucking pretty. 

That was one of the first things you’d noticed about him freshman year in your early morning biochem class. You learned, later on, that he was also incredibly kind, charming, and ridiculously smart. Like genius level smart. You knew he liked photography, which happened to be a hobby of your own. You wanted to be his friend; you’d thought many times about going up and speaking to him, but always talked yourself out of it.

Why would Peter Parker want to be your friend?

Instead you admired from afar, from a safe distance. But once you both graduated from ESU and went on to getting advanced degrees, you were sure that you’d never see him again. After all, New York was a huge city, and the odds that your lives would be intertwined enough to run into each other on a regular basis seemed slim to none. 

So - imagine your surprise when you started working as a research scientist at Biotech a few years and another degree later and you found that Peter Parker was starting at the same time as you. You’d done so well to keep your distance, to keep your feelings in check by being a silent admirer. But now, not only would you be seeing him every day…you’d be working closely with him in a lab all by yourself. 

You had no clue how you were going to survive, and part of you was tempted to quit and look for a different job, but you’d worked so long and so hard for this position that you weren’t going to just give it up. You were just going to have to suck it up. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And it worked, surprisingly. Peter was nothing if not polite and kind, and honestly he was a dream to work with. The two of you had a certain synchronicity that just was hard to put into words, but you complimented perfectly. Despite your initial fear, working in a lab with Peter went well. The worst part was that it made it all the more easy to fall for him. But you doubted he would ever see you as anything other than the girl at work. 

“Hey,” Peter softly interrupted your silent prayer to release any feelings for him with a soft smile. It was getting later into the evening and you were both getting ready to leave for the weekend. You flashed him a smile in response but slipped on your coat, “I was wondering…umm, do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

No way. No freaking way was Peter Parker asking you to get dinner. Right? Right?

“I-I’m sorry,” you blinked a few times and looked at him with wide eyes. His cheeks flushed a pretty pastel shade of pink as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, “what did you say?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner,” he repeated softly, shrugging one of his shoulders lightly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I just thought it might be nice to spend some time outside of work together.”

“You want to spend time with me?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You needed to make an appointment to get your ears checked. Peter would never want to be with you outside of work. Or, if anything, he might have been so lonely that he welcomed anyone’s company, “me?”

“Yes you,” he laughed softly and it was a sound you’d memorized over the years but still made your knees weak. He took a step closer and bit his lip for a moment, “let me clarify so we’re both on the same page - I, Peter Parker, am asking you, you, if you’d like to go out and dinner.”

“Oh,” every dream you’d ever had of Peter seemed to be coming true then and there. Peter liked you, Peter wanted to spend time with you; maybe you’d never been invisible to him after all. But no. You couldn’t…you just couldn’t. You were sure if anything he’d spend about ten minutes with you alone and he’d grow bored of you and make some excuse to leave. The idea that Peter would end up being bored of you was enough to make you never want to speak again, “umm…Peter, t-that’s really nice of you to ask. But I just…can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” it was laced with disappointment and you could see his face falling. You were pretty sure you’d just made things so much worse than if you’d just agreed on going, “no worries! I just thought I’d ask, it’s no big deal - maybe next time…well, enjoy your weekend.”

“You too, Peter,” you watched as he grabbed his bag and left, pausing at the door to turn around and give you a small wave. You returned and remained rooted in place, regret clouding your mind. If you hadn’t had such bad anxiety, you would have said yes. But the fear of messing everything up had been worse. You sighed at yourself, “pathetic.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was something quite lovely about New York in the middle of the night. The city never quite deadened, but there was a lull to life that made everything feel so much calmer than normal. That, combined with the insomnia you struggled with from time to time, was enough of a reason for you to venture outside. You grabbed your camera and slowly climbed out of your window and onto the fire escape, slowly making your way the several floors up to the rooftop. When you got there, you set out a long exhale of relief as you looked around the space and found the big blanket you stashed up here for times like this. 

It was chilly out, but it was exhilarating and made you feel more alive than you had all day. You walked around the rooftop and looked out into the city, trying to find anything worthy of your attention. After scouring for a few minutes, you found a gathering on one of the nearby streets and decided to capture it. You framed the shot, but before you could even press the shutter, you heard something loud fall next to you, accompanied by a small oof. 

You dropped the camera which was luckily around a strap on your neck and turned towards the commotion. To your surprise and shock you found Spider-Man looking right back at you. You gasped, hands covered your face as you looked at the man in the blue and red spandex suit, “Spider-Man?”

“Hi,” he cheerily waved before putting his hands on his hips and cocking his head to the side, “what’re you doing up here? It’s freezing - and it’s late.”

“What are you doing on my roof?” you asked with just as much surprise. You’d seen him on the news, read about him on the internet, but you’d never seen him in the flesh before, “you’re shorter than I expected.”

He playfully groaned and you were sure that he’d rolled his eyes under that mask, “first of all, I’m patrolling, and I happened to be swinging by. Secondly - I’m above average height, thank you very much!”

“Well, I don’t know, I expected you to be like…6’5 or something,” you shrugged, stifling a laugh at his distress, “aren’t you a superhero and all?”

“I am still a person-”

“With spider-like abilities,” you found yourself grinning in spite of the initial nerves, “so I dunno, I figured you might be tall. The news does you justice I guess.”

“Yeah well…fine,” he huffed lightly as you laughed at him. You could have sworn that he sounded so familiar and you couldn’t quite place it. Part of you was sure that he sounded like Peter, but there was no way that your crush of eight plus years and lab partner was Spider-Man, “but seriously, what are you doing up here?”

“I…I couldn’t sleep,” you found it incredibly easy to talk to him, nerves and anxiety the last thing on your mind. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or the fact that you had no clue who he was, “I go outside when I can’t sleep…it helps sometimes.”

“It’s dangerous,” he reminded you and you shrugged lightly, “you shouldn’t be out alone at night in this city.”

“Well I don’t exactly have someone that’s just available to come out with me at three in morning when I’m dealing with insomnia,” if you didn’t know any better you were sure that he sounded concerned, “it’s not the first time I’ve done this. I’ll be okay.”

“You have someone now,” he insisted and your mouth opened in surprise. When he saw the visible confusion on your face he pointed at himself, “that way I know you’ll be safe.”

“There’s only one problem with that.”

“Which is…?”

“How am I supposed to just call you if I need you?” you asked softly and he chuckled warmly as if there was some sort of inside joke between the two of you, “I don’t think there’s some sort of Spidey Signal or something.”

“I’ll be here,” he promised, “I’ll know.”

“Sure,” you liked the sound of it but you highly doubted he would just show up when you needed him. He had a whole city that he kept safe, and you were just one unimportant, small person among millions, “thanks for the concern.”

“I care about you, you know,” he said it like it was something of some personal thing to him. He must have caught his mistake because he quickly cleared his throat and added, “I care about everyone in New York.”

“Of course you do, you’re Spider-Man,” you gave him a small smile and decided that perhaps it was time for you to go. You were about to turn around and head for the fire escape when he stopped you.

“You have a camera,” you looked down before looking back at him and nodding softly, “you’re a photographer?”

“Amateur,” you confessed with a shy smile, “scientist by day, amateur photographer by night. It’s just a hobby, but it’s stuck with me through the years.”

“Wow,” you could tell that he sounded genuinely impressed. Peter, of course, knew you were a scientist, but he had no idea that you’d shared the same hobby too. It made his heart melt a little more, “that’s really cool.”

“Not as cool as being Spider-Man,” you insisted softly as he made a small sound, “I guess I better get going. And let you get back to work…or whatever you call it.”

“I’d love to see some of your work sometime,” the small that worked its way onto your face was breathtaking and made his knees weak, “if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you nodded with your face warm despite the chill of the late fall air, “definitely. Well…I guess I’ll see you around Spidey.”

“See you around, smart girl,” if he’d had the mask off, you’d have seen the giant, dopey grin on Peter’s face. But he was gone, swinging back into the evening as you stood there and stared after him.

You were pretty sure you had just  befriended Spider-Man. Holy fuck.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You really hadn’t expected to see him ever again. But on your next little, a late night walk through the streets of Queens, he made another appearance. He swung over and gracefully landed next to you, easily catching up to your stride. You couldn’t deny that you were elated to have him there. There was something easy about talking to him, about giving bits and pieces of yourself to him, and taking what he gave back. He was always careful not to give too much away, not to reveal too much of his real identity, but you felt like you were getting to know him. And you really liked him. You spend weeks upon weeks of your evenings with Spider-Man, growing closer than you’d have thought possible to the masked man.

On the other hand, it felt like your relationship with Peter was slowly slipping away. After that first night when you’d turned him down, you created a bit of a divide between the two of you. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to be his friend or even more, it was just that you didn’t trust yourself around him. He made was Peter fucking Parker and you were just…nobody. He never made you feel that way, but that’s just what you had ingrained in your mind. And, to your dismay, Peter slowly pulled back as well, which you took as rejection, when in reality it was him not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Either way, you wished you could go back in time and just say yes to him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Spider-Man seemed to notice your glum mood the next time he saw you. You hadn’t even gone out to the roof or for a walk, but he’d made an appearance at your bedroom window, gently tapping on the glass once he’d spied you sitting at your desk, typing away. When you heard the noise, you turned around and your face morphed into a look of surprise and then happiness. You rushed over to open the window and let him.

“How did you know which window was mine?” you asked softly as he took your outstretched hand and stepped into the room. He set his hands on his hips and looked around your room, taking it all in; your face flushed with warmth as he realized he was getting a glimpse into your most intimate space. 

“I’m Spider-Man,” he said as though that explained everything, “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?” your face softened and he nodded. 

“Can I sit?” he pointed at your bed and you nodded eagerly before plopping back down into your cushy desk chair, “I like your room. ‘s cute.”

“I…I never thought Spider-Man would be in my bedroom, I might have decorated a little more,” you joked and he laughed lightly, but he could see that your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He paused for a moment and you could feel that he was studying you, trying to pull you apart, “what?”

“You seem upset,” he whispered, leaning towards and holding out his hand. He hesitated for a moment, trying to make sure that he didn’t cross any of your boundaries, but when he noticed that you almost leaned, put his hand on the side of your face and gently stroked your cheek, “what’s wrong, my smart girl?”

My smart girl. He had a tendency to call you; you secretly loved it more than you cared to admit. 

“It’s nothing.” you insisted, biting the inside of your cheek in order to keep the tears from welling up. You put your hand on his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. When he made a small sound of concern in his throat, you couldn’t back the tears. A few pearled up and rolled down your cheeks, “it’s my own fault, it’s so stupid. Really, i-it’s fine.”

“It’s making you upset,” you could practically hear the frown in his voice as he used his thumb to wipe away your tears, “it’s not stupid if it’s making you upset. You don’t have to tell me…but I am here for you if you want to tell me. You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just…my friend,” you sighed lightly and pulled back, curling into yourself, “I think he’s my friend, anyway. I feel like I kept pushing him away and now I don’t think he wants to be my friend anymore. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me. We work together, and he almost never talks to me anymore unless it is about work.”

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat as he realized you were talking about him. He felt himself getting choked up as well, “what makes you think that?”

“I feel so dumb,” you shook your head, “it’s just that…I think I like him. I mean I do like him, a-as more than a friend. I’ve had a crush on Peter for a long time. Like eight years, but I’ve always thought I was invisible to him. But he just…he knows all these things about me, and it’s like…it feels like he’s always seen me, you know?”

“Why did you push him away?” Peter’s heart was beating so fast and hard he was surprised you couldn’t hear it, and even more surprised it didn’t just burst through his chest, “what happened?”

“He asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him,” you confessed as if he didn’t know all of this, “and I thought it was just as friends at first but I think he might have meant more…he seemed so upset when I said no. It made me sad to see him like that. I didn’t mean to hurt him or upset him, I just…I got so in my head and let my anxiety get the best of me. So I just said no.” 

“Did you want to say no?” he asked softly as you looked up and met his gaze through the white eyes of the mask. It just felt like he knew you, and that you knew him. There had always been that very familiar air about him, but you’d never been able to quite place why.

“No,” you admitted with a small, bitter little laugh, “I wanted to say yes. I want to spend more time with him and…I really do like him. But I’m afraid he’s going to get to know me more and think I’m boring or lame, or he just won’t like me. I have really bad anxiety and it really gets to me.”

“I’d never be able to guess,” he confessed and you gave him a small smile.

“It’s different with you,” you admitted shyly, “I feel comfortable around you, andI always have. I don't know why, but it’s true. That’s how I feel with Peter too, except that one time I clammed up so much and ruined everything.”

“I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything,” he insisted softly, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, “what’s so funny?”

“I don’t have as much confidence,” you shrugged, “how are you so sure? You don’t know Peter, you didn’t see the look on face when I said no. I…I never want to see that look on his face again. It made me so sad.”

Peter was internally debating on what to do. He could either tell you that it was him and risk the chance that you’d hate him forever for not telling you for so long and getting all of this out of you. Or he could continue on as Spider-Man and never tell you that it was. Or he could tell you tomorrow at work…as Peter. There were risks and benefits from each scenario. All he knew was that he couldn’t lose you; that would be too much.

“You know, Spidey, you remind me of Peter in some ways,” you whispered shyly and his heart plummeted into his stomach, “you sound like him. And you like a lot of the same things and I dunno…I feel the same way around you as I do around him. That’s never really happened with anyone before.”

“Listen-”

“It’s almost like….” you stopped yourself, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you shook your head, “it’s silly. So stupid, really.”

“Tell me,” he asked softly, “please.”

You inhaled softly, your heart pitter-pattering wildly in your chest. It was your turn to hold up your hand and reach over, ghosting your fingertips along his jaw. He leaned into your touch ever so slightly and you could feel the warmth of his skin even under the mask. You closed your eyes for a moment before exhaling shakily, “Peter?”

He paused for a moment before taking your hand and guiding it to the back of your neck where you felt the zip of the mask. You undid it softly, slowly, and when he sensed your hesitation, he helped you and slowly pulled off the mask, revealing himself to you. 

You gasped lightly when you found Peter Parker’s glittering honeyed eyes looking back at you nervously. You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up, and he visibly relaxed when you didn’t get angry. He held up his hand nervously, “hi.”

“This whole time,” you felt your face warm up when you realized that you had basically confessed your feelings to him, “I knew you seemed familiar, Spidey. I should've known that it was you. I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. When it happened with Spider-Man, I didn’t think anything of it. But it was you this whole time.”

“I didn’t know if I should tell you,” he whispered, “but I wanted you to know. And I never meant to make you feel like I was pushing you away. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable….when I had asked you out and you said no, I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way, so I thought it’d be best to back off.”

“It wasn’t you,” you promised, “it never was. It was me. Peter, I meant what I said, I’ve had a crush on you since that first day in biochem. I wanted to be your friend for so long, but just could never bring myself to say anything. I thought maybe I could use the photography thing since that’s something we both like but it just never seemed like a good time. And when we started working together…it was nerve-wracking and wonderful. And when you asked me for dinner, I panicked and thought I would surely ruin everything, so I took the possibility of failure away by saying no and making it impossible.”

“Ever the logical scientist,” he smiled softly, “my smart girl. But so you know, you could never have ruined anything. Do you want to know a secret?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve liked you too,” he admitted and your heart felt like it was going to burst, “since that first day in biochem. But you’ve always been way out of my league, so I never said anything.”

“No way!”

“Way,” the look on your face was both pretty and priceless and he was dying to finally kiss you, “now you know all my secrets.”

“Do you want to know one of mine, Peter Parker?”

“Yes.”

“I thought about what it would be like to kiss you so many times,” you whispered so softly that he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to hear you without his heightened senses, “I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Peter’s eyes lit up and you both leaned in, his lips inches away from yours. After a moment of hesitation, he finally kissed you, soft and sweet. He pulled back much sooner than you would have wished, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure it was alright. Your beaming face told him it was more than alright. 

“Was that okay?” he sounded so nervous it was almost too precious.

“I think so,” you teased lightly, “but I am a scientist and need more data to form a proper conclusion.”

“As a fellow scientist, I’m more than happy to provide all the data you could need,” he was grinning from ear to ear, “if you want that is…”

“Yes, Peter Parker,” you kissed him softly, “I would love that.”

another world [1]

after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

──────────────────────

──────────────────────

Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.

We shall meet again.

[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.

"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."

"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."

Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.

"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.

The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."

Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?

"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."

A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.

The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.

"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."

[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."

May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."

As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.

"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.

There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.

"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."

It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.

So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.

May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.

"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."

[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.

"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."

The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.

"I really, really hope you're proud of me."

──────────────────────

It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.

"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."

[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.

She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.

The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.

Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?

The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.

[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.

J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"

That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.

The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."

Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?

The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.

"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.

The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.

[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.

That's wasn't Peter.

Movie Nights & Makeshift Medics

TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: It’s Thursday, and Peter doesn’t realize you’re in his room until he’s quite literally crawling through the window.

Peter Parker has spotted you as Spider-Man three times in the past week.

Three times that you’ve caught his eye, completely enamoring him even while he’s supposed to be focusing, swinging a hundred feet in the air and yet barely catching the glinting shine of a skyscraper that’s right in front of his face. It’s the only moments where Peter curses his perfect sight, because in a crowd of people denser than a neutron star, you’re the one his senses seem to seek out every time. He’s starting to think it’s some sort of psychological phenomenon that only he experiences, and it’s driving him mad.

Of course, he never despises getting the opportunity to see you. He’s simply not a fan of being that preoccupied on patrol.

Not to mention, he really shouldn’t be this attracted—shit, distracted—by one of his best friends in the first place.

He already gets to spend classes with you on a weekly basis, gets to rest his chin on his palm as you give a brilliant presentation on this literary concept he barely understands but finds fascinating when you explain it. He already knows the way you smile sweetly when you come over to his apartment on Thursdays, how you burst into laughter when Aunt May makes a lighthearted joke at his expense over dinner.

Peter convinces himself that it’s simply his protectiveness at work every time he pinpoints you. Purely platonic. There is no other explanation for why he can find your face in a crowd so easily, so that’s what he settles for.

And now, after an uneventful evening of scouring the city streets for any signs of trouble (save for the one drunken fight that he helped break up on Jackson Avenue, where some dude in his thirties snagged him with a broken beer bottle), Peter finds himself face-to-face with you for the fourth time this week whilst still in his Spider-Man suit. Except this time, he’s crawling through his bedroom window as you prop open his door.

Was it Thursday already?

You gape at him incredulously, an old DVD of Congo clattering right onto the wooden flooring of his room as a rushed string of curse words fly from your mouth. Peter basically freezes in his spot, half of his body already in the apartment when you catch him red handed, his face contorting into a grimace under the mask like he’s just tasted something sour.

“You’re…” you try to fish for words, your hand gripping the door handle like some sort of lifeline, “you just broke into here.”

Peter’s mind goes blank, and he scrambles through the window frame the rest of the way, just barely avoiding falling to the ground with a thud that might have left his poor Aunt May calling out in concern. You, on the other hand, barely have the time to decide if turning on your heel and running is a better option than staying to hear out your infamous intruder. He can see the internal conflict that plays out in your head in a matter of seconds, your hands trembling with pure adrenaline as your lips press into a thin line. Luckily—and to Peter’s relief—you slip past the doorway and swiftly shut it behind you without another sound.

“I can explain,” he starts in a voice almost comically deeper than his own, putting his hands up as he cautiously treads further into the room.

You raise an unbelieving brow at him, although he can see your eyes darting from wall to wall as your brain attempts to process this very new, very unexpected development. “Oh, can you?”

He feels the rapid beating of his heart as it prattles against his ribcage, blood pumping heavy in his ears as you anxiously await an explanation. “Peter—you see, your friend Peter and I are acquainted.”

Acquainted? Who the hell uses that in a sentence regularly?

Your nose scrunches up, just like it does whenever you’re thoroughly confused on those statistics problems that Peter always helps you work through. “You know Petey?”

The nickname makes his stomach churn with something like guilt. “Yeah, we’ve met a couple of times.”

All of a sudden, you start to pace around the untidy room, narrowly avoiding the heaps of workbooks and the strewn about photographs that litter the floor. Your gaze flickers from his still-masked face, to the posters hanging on his walls, to the half-ajar closet door. And then without warning, your mind seems to click into a sense of understanding that leaves Peter’s hands fidgeting with nothing but the stilled air around him.

“Is this why he always seems to have those first aid things hidden in here?” you gasp, running a shaky hand through your hair at this apparent revelation. “He helps patch you up sometimes, doesn’t he?”

Peter nearly collapses where he stands.

All the immense pressure that had been building up in his body since the moment you spotted him is taken off at once, and he finds himself nodding enthusiastically with your absolutely oblivious proposition. Thank the stars that you even noticed a fact so minuscule, or else he would’ve had nothing else to go off for an explanation besides a prayer.

“Yup, he’s my guy, that’s for sure!” He hurriedly agrees, shooting you a thumbs up that makes him want to disappear into a dark hole for eternity. “He’s fixed me up a couple times—just small things! But he’s always a big help, you know.”

“God, I can’t believe it! Peter knows the actual Spider-Man. And he didn’t even tell me! For how long? I mean, if you don’t want to say that’s fine too, it’s just…this is so crazy.”

The boy in question watches on quietly as you start firing off your thoughts one by one, a low chuckle escaping his lips at your mindless rambling and incessant theorizing. You pick up on his staring after a few minutes, however, and a sheepish look quickly overtakes your features as your gaze returns to him.

“Sorry,” you cough out, unconsciously wringing your hands together. “Peter isn’t here at the moment, but he’ll probably be back soon if you need something. I can call him if it’s urgent. And I won’t bother you, promise.”

A rush of warmth floods his chest at your gentle concern. “Oh, it’s alright. If he’s not here I’ll just, ya’ know…get myself sorted back at home base.”

“Are you sure? It feels like you wouldn’t have stopped in if it wasn’t necessary.”

He panics, waving his arms around. “I’m sure! Just a cut or two, but nothing I can’t handle.”

As soon as the word cut leaves his lips, Peter knows he’s screwed up. Your eyes flash with that all-too-familiar empathy, and all of a sudden you’re approaching him, closing the distance between you to just a few feet.

“Listen,” you sigh, and he already knows where you’re headed, “I can help you, even if they’re just small injuries you need looked at. Stick around for a bit, at least? Even just to rest?”

Every bit of hesitation in him dissipates at your sweet insistence, and the way your face lights up at his reluctant nod makes it all worth it in the moment. You beckon him over with a small wave, taking a gentle hold of his arm and sitting him down on the edge of the bed—his bed, to be exact. As you settle down beside him, a hint of nervousness ever-present in your features, the smell of your body wash hits him almost immediately; it’s the one he got you a new supply of for your birthday, the one with a stupid name that he spent way too long trying to find at the mall. Peter fights the urge to shake his mind of the memory when a stupid smile begins to curl on his lips.

God, why of all times does he have to think about that? How does he even know your care products by scent? You don’t even know that behind this stupid mask of his is your best friend, who’s feeling more and more shame-filled by the second. You’re completely blind to the fact that he’s seen you more than once in the past few months—not just as Spider-Man, but as your classmate. You aren’t even aware that he’s started to fall in love with you—

“So, where’s it hurt the most?”

Peter blinks, finding your attentive stare focused right on his unmoving face. “Oh! Um, I think I got grazed on my collarbone.”

“Okay. Would you mind, maybe showing me where it is so I can clean it?”

He startles a bit in recognition of your request, but he gives you an affirmative nod nonetheless. You turn away for a moment to sift through the clutter on his desk, allowing Peter the opportunity to tug down the collar of his suit just enough to reveal a nasty looking laceration right below his neck. To his relief, it doesn’t appear to go very deep (although it would likely be worse if not for his conveniently quick recovery times), and while his skin has stained itself with dried blood, it’s clearly nothing fresh. Regardless, the wound seems to sting the longer he looks at it, and he hisses when he brings a gloved finger up to trace the broken skin.

You’re quick to return to his side, a scavenged pack of rubbing alcohol, ripped cloth, and a half-empty box of adhesive bandages in your hands that you’ve managed to find amidst his other things. Peter can’t help thinking that he needs to start hiding that stuff better.

“Careful,” you chastise him lightly, gingerly moving his hand away from the cut. “You don’t wanna get more dirt in it.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s no problem. The least I could do for the friendly neighborhood hero, although you did scare the hell out of me.”

You’re joking, but a twinge of regret still swirls in his gut. Peter completely forgot you were coming over today for a cheesy movie night, something you’d repeatedly begged to do with him ever since the idea crossed your mind months prior. And now, on the day you finally convinced him to agree? Now you’re treating his injuries in his own room, completely unaware that he’s lying to you straight through his teeth.

He decides that at the very least, maybe he could put on his Spidey charm and entertain you for a while. Even if for a sparing moment or two.

“So, you think I’m a hero?” He jokes back, and he can’t help admiring the way your face contorts into flustered embarrassment.

“I mean,” you splutter, staring holes into the bottle that you flick open with a resounding pop, “you save people a lot, so I’d say you’ve earned the title.”

“Well I’m flattered that you think so highly of me—uh…”

Peter barely catches himself before your name can come rolling off his tongue, but he plays it off with as much charisma as possible, peering at you through those big white eyes of his mask as if awaiting your response. Thankfully, he gets one, and he even tests the pronunciation of it for good measure.

Way to cover, man.

“Pretty,” he comments, not fully understanding the weight that such easygoing compliments can have on you. While on the outside you manage to retain an air of confident coolness, your train of thought is already chugging away into a world of over-exaggerated imaginations, as you’re not well versed at handling such unabashed flattery from anyone, let alone this vigilante who’s probably the most famous person in Queens. You opt to wave him off, muttering a low-volume thank you as you drip rubbing alcohol onto a cleaner part of the cloth in your grasp.

Peter presses on, not wanting to leave anything hanging in the air, lest this conversation be made more uncomfortable than it currently is.

“So, how do you know Peter?”

You perk up at the casual inquiry, the mention of your closest friend very quickly reminding you that this was, in fact, his place. Technically his Aunt May’s, but you very much doubted she knew about this little arrangement between her nephew and Spider-Man.

“Well, he’s my best friend, and we’ve known each other since freshman orientation of high school—try not to tense up, this might sting a bit—” you’re right, it does, and he suppresses the urge to writhe away from your grasp like some sort of child, “but it feels like I’ve known him longer, you know?”

“I can understand what you mean,” he says, although it’s slightly muffled by the way he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Is it similar for you and him?”

“I suppose you could say that. Though, I doubt I’m as close with him as you seem.”

You dab delicately at the already healing gash, a hint of a smile on your face. “We spend a lot of time together, that’s for sure. His aunt says we’re attached at the hip.”

Peter chuckles lightly. Of course you recall May’s badgering from when you two started to hang out on a frequent basis. While he was exasperatedly trying to nudge his lovely guardian into the kitchen before she could make any further implications about your relationship with one another, you simply shot him an amused smile, assuring him that she was a lovely woman and that you didn’t mind her amiable nature in the slightest. Your kindness that day still made him fuzzy, knowing that you felt comfortable around his family—unconventional as their living situation was.

A beat of silence falls over the room as Peter quietly watches you work. Your touch is so careful, trying to avoid his discomfort with as much consideration as possible, as if he’s not some masked guy who can stop a bus with his hands and who just took on multiple drunk idiots at once. You’re clearly apprehensive to let your fingers even touch his bare skin at all, only letting the soaked cloth press against his collarbone with thought-out precision.

It’s most likely because you want to avoid infecting the cut, but he can’t help wanting to feel the warmth of your hands anyway.

God, can his internal thoughts shut up for five minutes? Apparently not, because at this point his palms are growing clammy (not a good combination with a spandex costume, he discovers), and he’s practically itching to take your hands in his own, scrapes and bruises and secret identities be damned. He elects that asking another question will suffice as an alternative.

But then you’re peeling off the backing of a jumbo bandage and smoothing it out over his skin, and every nerve in his system jumps at the contact he’s been wanting but thought incapable of actually receiving.

What was he doing again? Right, asking a question. Something resembling an icebreaker. Maybe nothing too cheesy, but something standard.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Not that question.

Although it takes a moment for his words to register in your mind, Peter can tell they have as soon as your eyes widen, your hands freezing against his chest like a deer caught in headlights. He’s surprised that you’re not already running for the door screaming at this rate—a faceless guy of who-knows-what age asking if you’re in a romantic relationship, with the only saving grace being that your best friend allegedly helps him out sometimes. Rather, you simply avert your gaze to the wall, an awkward laugh bubbling in your throat.

“Not at the moment, no,” you tell him (and he doesn’t notice, but heat is creeping up from the base of your neck at an alarming rate). To his surprise, your words still hold an air of teasing confidence. “Who’s asking?”

“I—well,” he blanches, at a complete loss—and he’s quite nearly prepared to smack himself in the face at any moment, “I was just curious.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Spidey, but there’s someone else I’m into right now.”

Peter’s brows furrow. “Who?”

Wait. Too personal.

But you’ve never told him about anyone you’ve liked recently. The last time you’d ever brought up something like that was back in sophomore year, when Curtis Manfred was in that biology class with you and got you coffee on exam mornings. That never lasted though, seeing as he started dating some freshman you didn’t bother to share the name of soon thereafter.

Peter never liked Curtis. But that’s besides the point.

“Sorry,” he tacks on. “I doubt I even know who it is.”

You wave it off, smoothing out the edges of his bandage with much more deliberation than truly necessary. “It’s alright. Honestly, it’s probably the one person from my life that you do know.”

Peter freezes completely.

His heart rises to his throat, his every sense going haywire as if screaming ‘trouble!’ in big bold letters. Except, instead of realizing that something terrible is about to come his way, he’s left with the building realization that he might have just gotten confessed to. He decides to check just in case.

“You mean…you mean Peter?” he inquires, “As in Peter Parker?”

You finally meet his eyes again—well, as much as you can with that costume of his—and nod, offering him a sheepish smile.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

“I don’t know why I told you that,” you admit, blowing out a puff of air and giggling. “I think the mask thing makes it easier to be honest with you.”

“No! No, it’s fine!” and now his voice is two octaves higher than it began. “How long have you, uh, liked him for? I mean—if I can ask that.”

“Two years? I think it’s two now.”

“Wow. What’s made you like him for so long?”

“He’s just really sweet, you know? And smart. I’m sure you get that since you’ve known him for a while now too. And, y’know, he’s really cute. Dorky.”

You pause for a moment, realizing that the vigilante in front of you has barely moved a centimeter since your spiel began. It feels oddly tense, but you’re not really sure why.

You clear your throat, moving your hands away from him and back to your sides. “But anyways! That bandage should hold fine, but you might want to swap it out in a day or two. Do you need anything else looked at, or…?”

He still doesn’t move, and now you’re growing anxious. Did you say something you shouldn’t have? Was this way too familiar for just meeting the guy, who hours ago was simply a figure on your television? Was he going to tell Peter?

Before you can utter another word, Spider-Man is tugging his mask off, and in a matter of seconds you’re staring right at your best friend.

This time, it’s your turn to nearly pass out.

“Peter?” You’re practically whispering, and the shock in your face is clear as day. Not to mention, you can feel the embarrassment flaring on your face like a scalding lick of flames that just won’t burn out.

His hickory brown stare bores into yours without remorse, and he leans forward to grab your hand, pulling it towards his chest again. His hair is terribly ruffled in the best of ways, and even hours of doing the rounds through New York City have left his face without as much of a scrape, at least on this particular night. His thumb brushes the back of your knuckles with a tenderness that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies, and a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“You mean it?” He says, just as quietly as you spoke his name.

A permanent warmth settles in your cheeks, and you figure that holding back anything else is out of the question now. “Of course I do. What about you?”

Peter doesn’t give you any time to be nervous once he leans into you fully, bringing you forward by the hand and catching your lips with his. You barely have enough time to inhale, let alone get a word out before you melt into him, a breathy laugh the only thing you can manage when a gloved hand reaches up to cradle the base of your jawline. In a word, everything about the kiss is soft, and Peter is very evidently over the moon.

Your arms wind their way around his shoulders, getting pulled further against him and into his lap—right until you accidentally bump the spot on his collarbone that you just managed to clean, which is proven still sore when Peter fails to conceal a huff of discomfort against your lips.

“Alright,” you scold playfully, flashing him a knowing look, “don’t strain yourself.”

“Come on,” he groans, brushing your nose against his, still holding you by the waist, “I’m a friendly neighborhood hero, right? I can take it.”

“Nice try. Maybe you should enlighten me a bit more on that whole Spider-Man thing first, hm?”

Peter drops his head back to stare at the ceiling, a dazed smile lighting up his face. “I thought it was cheesy movie night.”

You can’t help laughing. “I cannot believe you.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

When he tilts his chin down again, he finds you looking right back at him, a glimmer of admiration in your eyes that makes his breath catch. You cup his face in your hands without a second thought, and he willingly relents to your touch without a moment’s hesitation, the urge to kiss you again settling in the back of his mind.

“Movie first, and then we’re talking,” you concede, affection laced in each word. “God, Peter. You’re incredible.”

He just smiles, shaking his head lightly. “And you’re everything to me.”

Peter Parker spotted you four times as Spider-Man this week, and now he’s got a brand new stock of first-aid materials stowed away in his closet. Plus, he’s got a date scheduled for next Thursday that he sure as hell won’t be forgetting.

black widows and other spiders

tasm!peter x avenger!reader

summary: when steve asked you to deal with the Loki mess, you didn't expect the god of mischief to cast you into a different universe altogether. Luckily, you have some help. [ a very special appearance by a very special someone :) ]

"Aw c'mon, I was just about to enjoy some quiet," Spiderman said, stepping out of the shadows.

"I'm not an enemy," you replied, quite calmly for someone who was handcuffed to the wall by literal webs.

"You sure about that? You just tried to stab me two seconds ago."

"That was hardly my fault," you shot back. "You sneaked up on me in a dark alley! If I really wanted to stab you, you'd already be bleeding. "

"Wow, I'm so scared. Who are you again?"

You hesitated. Should you tell him or figure out everything on your own? Thinking back, you remembered how the Peter from your earth was basically a walking encyclopedia. If this one had access to labs too, you could easily create a way back to your own earth.

For that to work, you needed to convince him that there were multiple universes and that you were from a totally different one.

Fun.

"I don't wanna know," Peter said finally. "You're taking too much time to think and I'd rather be home eating spaghetti."

"You're not going to get these off me?" you asked, nodding towards the webs.

He shrugged. "You still suspicious so just to be safe, you know?"

"That's not very nice of you Peter," you said just as he walked away, making him halt. Even with his mask on, you could sense his surprise.

When he turned, he was surprised yet again.

In that split second, you had somehow made the webs disappear and were standing quite amusedly, hands folded and an eyebrow raised.

"Now I'm a little bit scared," he admitted, his voice curious.

* * *

Back at his apartment, you groaned even before he let you in.

"What?"

"Aunt May isn't here, is she?" you asked, frowning. "She gives the best hugs. I could use one right now."

"She's at her friend's for the weekend," he said. "How the hell do you even know—?"

"I told you this seven times already. I'm from a different universe."

"And I told you seven times that I'm having a hard time believing it, but that's not what I meant. How do you know she's not in the apartment even before entering?"

"Perks of being a widow," you sighed, walking in after him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—"

"Not that kind of widow, dumbass."

He watched as you plopped down on the couch, turning on the TV with as much finesse as you could. Even though your gaze was shrewd and calculating, he felt something inside him flutter when you looked his way. You looked so intimidatingly beautiful. He always liked girls and guys who were a little bit out of his league.

"Are you gonna stare or do I get that spaghetti?"

"Right!" he rubbed the back of his neck, lost as ever. He instantly hunted down a bowl, spilling questions all the while. "So I'm guessing you're some kind of assassin?"

"Used to be," you said casually, changing channels to see if something good was on. "Now I'm part of the Avengers, which I'm guessing you don't have here or otherwise you'd know me already."

"And avengers are...?"

"Protectors of earth, as much as ridiculous as that sounds," you said, chuckling. "You're the friendly neighborhood spiderman. We're the unfriendly intergalactic fighters who need therapy and better life choices."

You put down the remote in frustration, hating how there weren't any of the shows and movies you liked. Peter sat beside you and handed you a bowl.

"Aren't you eating too?" you prodded.

"In a bit," he said, waving it off. "How did you get here then? What happened?"

"Well me and another friend was tracking down Loki, a very troublesome person who is literally jumping through timelines," you explained, knowing fully well that Peter wasn't going to understand anything. You also knew he wouldn't shut up until you answer, so you went on.

"My friend isn't part of the avengers but she's there whenever I need her. Kind of like my best friend actually. Loki knows magic and he hurled me down here before I could complete the assignment."

"Loki knows magic?" he repeated. "Like actual magic?"

"He's also a god."

"A god." He rubbed his forehead. "What even—?"

"I have lots of stories like that," you said, sinking into the cozy feeling of a pretty apartment and friendly company.

Peter stared at you again, unable to understand how your mind worked. Or maybe he just found you pretty too.

"Tell me all of them," he said, his words hardly a whisper.

* * *

The next few days were hazy, kind of like you were trapped in a dream that wasn't even yours. He said you could stay for a while in exchange for telling him all about the multiverse. You didn't think it was possible for someone to be this excited about the concept being real, but here you are.

He gave you the guest room, and you stole all his clothes simply because you had nothing else to wear. You meant it as a "if you're taking me in, I'm gonna annoy the hell out of you" gesture, but he went speechless the first time. Blushing and stammering, he had said something along the lines of "take whatever you want."

In many ways, it was just like being on your own earth. You still fought with monsters and other villains, still had nightmares, still kept an eye around you as if any second you'll be attacked. Peter could see it. Going to bed with a knife under your pillow certainly showed that.

But even then, it was vastly different in its own way. You didn't have anyone to fight along with, but suddenly you were partners with Spiderman, taking down crime one at a time.

You had a home you could go back to, and a friend, one that'd let you pick the movies and pull a blanket over you when you fell asleep watching them.

You felt guilty to feel so at peace. Even after you escaped with Natasha, somedays you felt like the horrors of red room would never fully wash off, no matter how many good deeds you do.

Becoming an Avenger wasn't enough. Seeing the blood of monsters on your hands only reminded you of the murders you committed long ago.

Innocent or not, everyone's blood was cruel red.

Peter, on the other hand, kept you busy enough to not think too much. He demanded details of everything, every small one, which kept you occupied.

* * *

"He can only touch his hammer?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Kind of?" you answered thoughtfully. "Steve did take it once during a war but Thor said it was too big for him."

He burst into fits of laughter, unable to keep it in.

"What?" you asked, clueless.

"Thor's hammer sounds...kinky."

You threw some popcorn at his face.

* * *

"Who's your favorite avenger?"

"Natasha," you said, sighing. "Even after she died, I had a lot of pressure to be just like her. I can't, but I try."

"Ah, just so you know-" He gently nudged your elbows playfully. "You're my favorite avenger."

* * *

"So Loki's a troublesome god in all universes?"

"And a troublesome crocodile."

"Naturally."

* * *

Once he knew the basics, his energy didn't calm down. If anything, he was more excited and he portrayed this through the only outlet he had — jokes.

* * *

"What do you call Doctor Strange's cousin who can't do magic?"

"Huh?"

"Doctor Normal," he said, giggling.

You sighed in exhaustion.

* * *

"Why did Thor avoid Loki?"

"Please not another jok-"

"He Odin money."

"I'm ready to walk off a cliff," you said, looking to the heavens.

* * *

"Why's Thor's brother great at sneaking around?"

"I don't wanna hear it."

"He's very Loki."

Despite your wishes to keep a straight face, you burst out laughing. Peter's eyes widened, shocked that he actually got a reaction out of you. He looked proud, and his heart melted at the sight of you being you.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Before he could answer, the T.V went out, along with all other lights. The cautious instincts kicked in and you stood up slowly, knife already out.

You could hear footsteps, which you would have discredited to be a neighbour's if they weren't so silent. Too silent, like a cat ready to pounce.

"Someone's inside," Peter stated the obvious, getting up himself. Before he could get his web-shooters, the light came back on.

You pointed your knife at the intruder while they pointed a gun at Peter, making a very dangerous triangle.

Your hands went slack when you recognized the blonde.

"Yelena?" you called, lowering the knife.

"You know her?" Peter asked, a little too terrified. She didn't break eye contact with him, as if he was still a threat. You didn't like how close she looked to pulling the trigger.

"She was the friend I was telling you about," you explained. "She was helping me with Loki. What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk after all the weapons are lowered?" Peter suggested. If anything, Yelena's grip on the gun tightened.

"He's a friend," you said quickly. "It's okay. He's nice."

"Yeah, I'm Peter Parker. Just like the one from your earth!"

"I don't know who that is," Yelena said stiffly. He looked at you for an explanation.

"She hasn't met all the avengers yet," you answered with your hands on your hips. "Yelena, c'mon, does he look like a monster?"

She slowly put the gun in her holster, her eyes darting between the two of you.

"I was cast into this earth by Loki too," she said angrily. "I was passed out on top of a building for two days before I could track you down. Now here you are, watching Peppa Pig with a scrawny dummy."

"I didn't know you were here," you said, feeling guilt take hold. "You know I wouldn't have abandoned you."

"You wouldn't be the first one." She gritted her teeth, and while fury was the main objective, she came off as hurt, to both you and Peter.

"I'll get some tea," Peter said awkwardly.

"No, we are leaving," Yelena said, nodding towards the door. "Let's go."

"Wait, no—"

"You didn't think you were staying here, did you?" She asked, and you could feel the genuine curiosity behind her question.

"No, but we have a plan."

"We?"

"Peter's going to make us a temp pad like the one in TVA," you interjected before she could kill him with his eyes. "It's almost done. He just needs some kind of special aluminum. He had to call a friend and it'll be here today or tomorrow."

"Then we go back?" she asked firmly.

"We go back," you repeated, sounding less excited than your friend.

"Good, let me go steal some clothes then," she said, going to the door.

"You can take Peter's—"

"I'm not wearing Hello Kitty t-shirts," she snapped, then left, slamming the door behind her.

You looked at Peter apologetically. "Sorry about that I-"

"You're actually leaving," he interrupted, as if being held at gunpoint was the least of his worries. "I mean, I knew you wouldn't stay here forever but, you're leaving. Soon."

"Yeah," you rubbed your elbow, shifting awkwardly. He seemed heartbroken.

So were you, but you had better acting skills to hide it.

* * *

That night, you tried making dinner, knowing what Yelena would love. It was your way of apologizing to her.

She was your friend for as long as you could remember. After Natasha died, you had to hunt her down to see if she was okay. She wasn't, so you stayed with her.

You understood why she was so pissed at Peter. She didn't want to lose you too. For some avengers, you were the replacement for Natasha, but for Yelena, you were just you - that one friend in the red room who'd always say the worst jokes to cheer her up.

You couldn't even think of staying here when she was alone.

* * *

Peter looked absolutely shocked when you placed the macaroni and cheese in front of them.

"I thought you said you can't cook!"

"She can't," Yelena agreed, rolling her eyes. "I make the best macaroni and cheese, this tastes like garbage."

"You haven't tried it yet," you said, rolling your eyes.

"I don't need to taste your food to know it is not food."

You laughed and sat down, serving some into your own bowl.

Peter handed over a spoon while pouring juice into three glasses. His eyebrows were scrunched up in concentration, and you poked the glasses up his nose when it was dangerously close to slipping down. He didn't need glasses, but he wore them because it felt like a part of him he didn't want to let go of yet.

You respected that, and the fact he looked absolutely adorable in them was a plus.

Yelena looked taken back at how effortless you fit into the picture. That slight frown you always had was nowhere to be seen and you were so... peaceful.

"So this temp pad," she began, poking the spoon into the bowl. "How does it work?"

"Just like the one Loki has," Peter said, nodding. "It's in the basement if you wanna go see it after dinner?"

"No," she said quickly, far too quickly. "But it will be complete tomorrow, yes?"

He nodded, looking back at his food, suddenly disinterested.

* * *

Just like his promise, it was all ready the next day. You dreaded going back, but you had to. No matter how tempting it was to lead a semi-happy life, you had responsibilities. You had a past.

"Here you go," Peter handed over the device, not looking directly at you. "This will get you to TVA but you'd have to redirect to your own earth from there."

"Bye, sticky," Yelena said, incredibly bored.

"I'll- I'll see you?" your words were uncertain.

"I hardly doubt that," Peter replied, shaking his head.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip in frustration.

"Thank you for the stories," he said after a while, resisting his urge to give you a hug. Resisting his urge to ask you to stay.

"Can we just go already?" Yelena interrupted.

You were always bad at goodbyes so you didn't give one. Sighing, you pressed the button.

* * *

Nothing happened.

"Wait- what?" Peter took the device, examining the features. "That should have worked, there's a- wait the chip's outdated."

"Really?" you tried not to sound hopeful. "Is it the kind you can't fix?"

"Maybe I can, but it'll take some days."

You smiled, turning to Yelena. "Guess we're staying here for a while after all."

"How wonderful," she said sarcastically.

"I'll go uhm, heat up the pizza?" you asked, practically skipping to the kitchen.

"You know the basement has cameras, right?" Peter asked once he made sure you were out of earshot. "I saw someone going there last night and messing up the temp pad."

Yelena scoffed. "I don't know what you are implying."

"Sure you don't."

She glared at him so he raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"She looks happy here," she said, softening a bit. "Less of a killer and more of a bad cook. I like it. If she's hurt, I'll pull out your organs and feed them to a cat."

"Incredibly specific, but okay." Peter handed her the temp pad, which she took confusedly. "You know, for safekeeping."

Yelena rolled her eyes. But as soon as he turned, she looked at you and then at the device, wondering which chip she should fry next.

————————

join/be removed from taglist here

I took two of the marvel jokes from this website :)

general taglist: @sometandomstuff333 @cuddleluv @luvelyxp @violetrainbow412-blog @third-broparcelicito @wayvjinsol @dinfarrik @oliveoilthoughts @avengers-is-that-a-band @thankyouforanonymity @imabee-oralizard

marvel taglist: @magicalxdaydream @sexysirius @archangelaurii @vx-vexedvixen @junglxqueen @shyposttree @louderfortheback @garfieldssimp @/bex_tk1 @1999yanira @/cinderellacauseshebroke @aleksanderwh0r3 @levylovegood @inu1gf @doodles-bi-tea @tenebrisirae @slutfortasmpeter @wrathspoet @deafeningnightcollection-things @awesomegirl85 @lazysheepperfection @disartrous @triumph-of-form-over-content

andrew!peter taglist (1/4) : @angelcritterz @greekktragedyy @rophelia @littleredjason @geek-and-proud @arabellelancastersstuff @peachyplumsss @riibuns @lemonjane16 @strawberry-cake1 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @lokismidnight @blooo0ooop @plutoneu @livewittykid @melody-ed @dracoismydramaqueen @clean-and-claire @londonbrandcandy @jenoslov @luvwanda @daph-505 @breathinfive @secretsthathauntus @lovelyxtom @/chiliiscereal

Modern Art

tasm!peter x reader

summary: inspired by Reckless by Madison Beer and All Too Well. Angst because all of us have a pain kink. requested by @buckyjbarneswhore | masterlist

Peter had fallen in love with you even before asking you out. It wasn't much of a surprise, that boy was always a hopeless romantic.

He loved the way you laughed, loved how he made you laugh. He loved how you hummed the songs he never understood, your voice, your kindness, how you doodled nonsense on his papers, how you hugged Aunt May whenever you saw her — he loved anything and everything about you.

Then one day, he went to Oscorp. You knew he saw something there, but he wasn't keen on saying what it was.

That was the first secret he hid from you.

You thought you were imagining things. Sure, he didn't spend much time with you anymore, but he was busy. You told yourself he was busy even though the two of you had the same classes and the same workload.

You ignored the feeling at the back of your head, the one that told you to be careful.

————

"Hey, we're going to a party tonight. Wanna come?" Aimee asked, smiling wide. "Trick question. You have to."

"Then I guess I'll be there." You returned a smile, knowing you didn't need much persuasion anyway. You didn't have much work and anything's better than sitting around doing nothing.

"I need to do a beer count. Is Peter going to be there?" she asked, taking out the little pink notebook she carried around. You had gifted it to her on her birthday and she hasn't parted with it since.

"He's uh, busy." You were suddenly interested in the book in front of you.

"Oh man, you're dating Peter Parker?" One of your other friends, Mark, looked up from whatever he was reading.

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason. He's a chill dude. Saw him yesterday. He bought me coffee at Helsey's after I was drunk off my ass," Mark said, laughing. "Owes me skateboard lessons too."

"Wait, wait," you sat up straighter. "Helsey's cafe is near your house."

"Of course it is."

"Your house is nowhere near the public library."

"Okay...?"

"Peter said he was at the library," you said, sounding worried. "He said he had a personal project or something."

"Why would he lie?" Aimee asked, closing the pink notebook.

"C'mon guys, you're overthinking this," Mark interrupted swiftly. "In fact, I'm pretty sure his friend mentioned something about going to the library too!"

"His friend? He was with someone?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, Gwen Stacy."

————

"I'm thinking we should go to that little restaurant they opened up?" Peter asked, handing over the flowers he had hurriedly bought on his way over. "Sort of as an apology for my absence the whole week?"

"I'm not feeling good. I'd rather stay inside," you said, hoping you sounded normal. You put the flowers in an empty vase and threw the bag into the bed, then opened your laptop.

Peter frowned. He had off days too, when he wanted nothing more than to disconnect from the entire world for a while, but your demeanor said something was wrong.

You running through whatever you're looking for on the laptop and ignoring your boyfriend standing awkwardly near the door was the closest thing you had done to giving him the cold shoulder.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, sitting down on your bed.

You laughed forcefully. "Don't be ridiculous, Peter. Why would I be mad at you?"

"I mean, if you are- that's totally justified. I know I wasn't the most attentive guy last week. I blame it on my project—"

"Speaking of," you interrupted cheerfully, slamming the laptop shut and turning to him. "What's this project about?"

He was taken back. "Uhm, arachnology."

"Arachnology?"

"Yes?"

"That sounds like a question."

"I mean, yes. Definitely," he said, nodding. "I'm researching on arachnology. Why the sudden interest?"

"I feel bad for not knowing what's going on in your life." You replied, waving it off.

You had hoped he was a better liar, just so you could comfort yourself that it was all okay like your rose-colored glasses made it out to be. Apparently not.

"I appreciate that." Peter held your gaze, both of you knowing there was something more. Something he wasn't saying.

"Are you doing the research with Gwen Stacy?" The question had slipped off your mouth before you could think about it. He seemed even more surprised.

"Why would I study spiders with Gwen?" he laughed, not meeting your eyes.

The way her name fell from his lips said he knew her, and the affection behind it said he was fond of her. You bit down your lips and told yourself that you were being crazy. Friends care for each other, and you needn't worry about that.

If there was something going on, Peter's not the type to hide it. Then again, you thought he wasn't the type to lie at all, but isn't that what he just did?

————

The story wrote itself from there. So now here you are, alone at your birthday party, having everyone around you but him. You were pretty sure he had forgotten about it altogether.

When everyone left for home, you went to your room and swallowed the resentment. It felt like a statement on his part. He used to write little notes for you during class, with small lines that made you smile even though they were sappy. He said he'll never hurt you, but here you are, close to tears on your own birthday.

There was a knock on the window.

You didn't need to turn to know it was him.

"Hey, I got us pizzas!" he said energetically, then noticed your red gown, the slumped shoulders, the irregular breaths. "Y/N...?"

You turned around, wiping the first tear that had shamelessly slid down your face. The last thing you wanted to do was look broken in front of the man who broke you.

He took in your makeup, or rather the smudged edges of it. You looked so utterly strong yet cautious, as if you had just built a brick wall over your emotions.

"Oh!" he connected the dots, leaving the pizza on the bedside. "Your birthday- holy shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

"Where were you?" you asked calmly.

He blanked. What was he supposed to say now? That he was so consumed with a bogus research that he forgot his girlfriend's birthday? Or the truth? Both would hurt the same.

"Gwen Stacy," you said the name slowly. "Why did you tell me you don't know her?"

He took a deep breath in. "I didn't say that. I just didn't tell you she was just doing the research with me—"

"If that was the case, why did you lie?"

"I thought you wouldn't understand! If I told you I had something super important to research with another girl, don't tell me you wouldn't have gotten jealous!"

"Bullshit, Parker!" your voice rose louder. "You know I'm not that type of overprotective partner. You know you could have just told me. But you didn't. Why?"

"There's a lot of compli—"

"Why?" The word ricocheted off the walls, making Peter almost take a step back.

"Did you cheat on me?" you whispered, biting down your lips so you wouldn't yell again.

"No," he shook his head far too quickly. Yet he looked guilty. You quickly connected the dots.

"Are you in love with her anyway?"

Peter's face fell. "I didn't plan to."

Tears freely started to fall now, but you didn't care. You took a deep breath in.

"You could have told me that from the start."

"I love her now but I loved you first," he said defensively. "I did. But then I was spending more time with Gwen and somewhere along the way, it just happened. I never wanted to hurt you, but would you really blame me for loving someone?"

"You're honestly asking me that?" you asked, your voice shaking. "All I did was love someone and where did that get me?"

"You don't understand—"

"What the fuck don't I understand?"

"I'm Spiderman!" He interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. He began rambling even without seeing your reaction. "Gwen works at Oscorp. She helped me. I knew you wouldn't have approved if I told you I was fighting for my life everyday. Not like she does."

You understood why he was saying that. Peter Parker was in his core, nothing if not kind. He didn't want to deal with how he hurt someone, so he threw a half-assed excuse at your face, hoping you'd agree and let him go. He didn't need your pain on his conscience so he resorted to wallowing through excuses.

Steady breaths, that's what he used to say when you were having a bad day. Steady breaths and a steady mind. Can't be all bad, right? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere.

Despite everything, you smiled. Steady breaths it is.

"I knew you were Spiderman, I knew it from the start," you said, almost amused.

He blinked, surprised yet again. Maybe he was more stupid than he gave himself credit for. After all, you were his girlfriend. If there was someone in the world who figure it out, who else would it be if not you?

"You wouldn't have loved me anymore," he finished his ranting, desperately hopeless. "No matter what you say now, you wouldn't have!"

"I would have loved you any way you wanted me to."

He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, realizing he had just run out of excuses. Nothing to give, nothing that you'll ever trust again.

"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely meaning it. "I'm so fucking sorry that I hurt you. You are a good person and—"

"Get out."

"Let me just-"

"Get the hell out!" you pointed to the window.

He didn't want to cause any more of a mess, so he did as you asked, though hesitant as ever.

And as he climbed that window down one last time, you looked at the vase in the corner, the one which had the flowers he bought for you; all of them completely wilted now.

————————

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This was adorable and I mean it in a complimentary way. I wasn't certain as I began reading how the 'spellwork' would entertain me (meaning, that isn't something I'm usually reading) but it's engaging and the conversation the two leads share has that offbeat Spider-Man humor/gentle teasing that I adore. A part of TASM that I loved was how Spider-Man/PP would (as we often do in reality) change his tone/banter based upon the person with whom he was speaking. We were only given a little between Peter & Gwen, but it was enough to have a wee insight that she was not afraid to needle him any more than he was her but it was never mean. He was a little harder on the criminal types but even then, he kept up a wonderful dialogue that only disappeared when things got quite dark (such as with Harry Osborn in the fight scene in TASM 2).

You captured some of the levity and I would love to read further interaction between the main character and 'official' Spider-Man.

You're just trying to work, but Spider-Man always has to drop by and keep you company.

or, reader is a sort-of-hero doing small, meaningful work to keep the city safe. Spider-Man can't turn down the opportunity to keep them company (i.e. tease them relentlessly).

A/N: maintenance-type heroics are something i love, so this 'verse is very dear to me. no i don't know how they transition from reader knowing spidey to reader knowing peter to reader knowing spidey is peter, but that's a problem for another fic

WC: ~1.2k

(warnings: is this the first one with no warnings? i think it is. lots of pining and teasing)

Spider-Man drops down so close to you that you can smell him – cheap laundry detergent and hot asphalt, like he’s been hanging out on a sunny rooftop. You flinch and drop your tackle box of spell components, but Spider-Man leans easily into your space to catch it. Worst of all, he takes one of your hands in his and wraps your fingers around the handle again. 

Any chance of you maintaining a cool, relaxed exterior is lost when he squeezes your wrist – gently, so gently, achingly gently considering you’ve watched him juggle cars with those hands – before letting you go.

“Whoa, sorry,” he says, so good-humored it gives the impression he’s laughing even though he’s not. “Didn’t mean to drop in on you unannounced.”

“Terrible,” you announce automatically, shaken out of your love-struck stupor by his horrible pun. “Zero out of ten.”

Shoulders drooping dramatically, Spider-Man groans and lets himself fall backwards just to catch himself in a one-handed back handspring and pop back up in front of you with a flourish. You get the impression he might be grinning and raising his eyebrows at you behind the inscrutable mask. Biting down a smile, you try to focus on your spellwork again. 

You don’t have a real-hero job like his, but you like to think what you do matters. Almost every community has a little bit of magic, natural or otherwise, woven into it, and New York is no exception. Tens of thousands of people like you have been dripping little dollops of magic into sidewalks, trees, buildings, even the subway, for so long it makes your head spin if you look at the overlapping lines of spellwork too closely. After all this time, it’s a framework that keeps a lot of the really scary magical stuff to a minimum, but it takes some maintenance. 

Unfortunately for you, sometimes following the trail of decaying magic that needs some bolstering leads you to rooftops, construction sites, and other variously dangerous places for someone without superhuman agility. Even more unfortunate, Spider-Man swept you off a ledge exactly one time and decided he would be bugging – the first of his many horrible jokes – you every chance he got, which is insanely frequent considering how busy you know he is. 

It was nice, at first, having someone who could keep you company in some of the scarier maintenance locations or help you safely reach dangerous areas. The problem with Spider-Man is that he gets more likable with every second he spends in your general area, and the problem with that is you’re much too busy to be tongue-tied in front of a local superhero when you’re supposed to be working. 

Puffing out a put-upon sigh, Spider-Man jumps up to sit on the ledge next to you. “Yeah, okay, that one was pretty weak. Still made you smile, so I count it as a win.”

“It didn’t make me smile,” you say, smiling. You swallow your next words before you can add something stupid like, you’re what made me smile. 

“Sure, whatever you say, Gandalf.” He swings his legs a little and tucks his chin into his neck to, you’re guessing by the angle of his lenses, scrutinize you. “Hey, you got the stain out of those!”

You glance down at your favorite jeans. After a mishap while straightening out some tangled arcane webs in an abandoned subway tunnel, you ended up with splotches of nasty gray-green oil staining the denim. He had been almost as distraught as you were, immediately hooking an arm around you to escort you to what was apparently his most trusted laundromat. And now here you were, stains impossibly lifted by a stern-voiced and kind-faced woman behind the counter. 

Yet another thing that Spider-Man effortlessly saved.

“I didn’t do anything. Mrs. Marcus got the stain out.” Risking a glance up at him, you add a quiet, “Thank you for introducing us.”

“The way I see it, people who take care of the city should be taken care of by the city, you know what I mean? And you and Mrs. M are vital cornerstones of the city, so. Iconic team-up.”

You can hear the smile in Spider-Man’s voice. You wish you could see the smile, but that’s not really in the cards for you, is it?

“You’re so,” you start, shaking your head and finding that you don’t know how to finish the sentence. He’s leaning in awfully close, big blank lenses zeroed in on you. You settle on, “Silly.”

“I’m silly?” Spider-Man asks, delighted. 

“You are!” 

“Tell me about it, toots,” he says, affecting a really terrible old-timey accent.

Dipping the fingers of one hand out of mundane reality and into the whirring whimsicality of arcana, you hook around the frayed line you’ve been following all day and then pause awkwardly. Like he’s reading your mind, Spider-Man hops down and takes your component box from you. He flips the latch and then opens it, holding it out at just the right height for you to use your free hand to pick out the little bits of magical paraphernalia that you need. 

Despite his propensity for whip-fast conversation and endless teasing, Spider-Man is actually really good company when you’re working. It’s like he knows exactly when you need a few seconds of quiet to really focus on something, and he also has a preternatural gift for guessing what you need and providing it before you even really know what would help. It more than makes up for the way he makes you feel fluttery and flushed just by existing in your general vicinity. 

The world narrows in focus while you finish up your mending, but Spider-Man is still right next to you when you slip back into reality. His mask twitches a little near the cheeks when you blink up at him. 

“Hey there,” Spider-Man says, steadying you with a warm hand under your elbow. “All done?”

“All done,” you confirm, trying not to think about how he must give really incredible hugs. 

“Am I gonna get to buy you dinner, or are you cooking tonight?”

Just like that, he has you flustered and smiling again. Taking the component box from him and shaking your head, you resist the urge to shove at his chest like some high schooler just learning how to flirt. You’re trying not to flirt with him at all, but you’ll settle for not flirting badly. 

“You’re not buying me dinner, Spider-Man.”

He slaps a hand over his heart like he’s affronted. “Back to full-naming me? I thought I was officially your Spidey? Just for that offense, I should be able to buy you dinner.”

You had caved and started calling him Spidey, but you’ll die of mortification before ever calling him my Spidey. 

“That’s really not how this works,” you inform him, and then, sensing you’re not going to win, propose, “How about I buy you dinner, then? For helping and keeping me company.”

“Please, I should be paying for the pleasure of your company.” He holds out a hand and meets you in the middle. “Final offer, you can buy your own dinner, but I’m buying dessert.”

Even without dessert, you would be walking away with a rare treat – it’s not every day that you get to see Spider-Man roll up the mask and reveal his pretty mouth and lovely chin. 

You shake his hand and manage not to swoon at the way his fingers close around yours. “Deal.”

Bwahahaha! Peter is SO not fooling anyone and it is so adorable. I love that he is the scarecrow, Dorothy’s first friend in Oz (after she set off on the yellow brick road). And the scarecrow being the one w/o a brain; perfect for smart Peter Parker. Too funny!! Scarecrow had some wise words in the film’s screenplay and Dorothy told him prior to returning to Kansas that she would miss him most of all. I suspect Reader would sure miss Peter, too. Thank you so much for writing a lovely Halloween story with Teacher!Peter and Reader. Can’t wait to find out how the move goes!

Mastermind

Summary: You and Peter “accidentally” wear matching Halloween costumes (part of the teachers au)

masterlist

“Fucking great,” you mutter as you finish reading your latest email informing you that the delivery of your new furniture was being pushed back by a day. 

A day means everything when you're moving, for you it means that either you’d have to ask someone to wait at your new apartment to sign for the delivery while you were back at your current apartment with the movers you hired or you’d have to find a way to magically split yourself into two. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, scouring your mind for someone you know was free this Saturday. A lot of your friends worked on the weekends, Johnny was visiting his sister out in Long Island, and MJ was going to be here, at school, finishing the set for the upcoming school musical.  

A sigh escapes your lips as you stand from your chair and smooth your dress out, you’ll just have to figure it out later, you think to yourself as you open the door and wedge the door stopper into place, the heels of your shoes clicking as you do so. 

The period was over and the hallways began flooding with the sea of students heading to their next class. You waited by your desk as your students began trickling in, making sure to greet each one and encouraging them to grab a few pieces of candy from the skeleton sitting at the front of the room that your honor’s class affectionately named, Bill Beanie the Meanie. 

You gave the stragglers a few minutes to make their way there before shutting the door, “First and foremost, Happy Halloween,” you say with a radiant smile, pausing for a second as your words were being echoed back to you, “As you know today also marks the end of the fairytale origins unit, meaning that your final papers are due today–most of you have already turned yours in online but for those of you who haven’t, you have until tonight to do so.” 

You walk over and power on the smartboard, “I posted a poll on Google Classroom for you guys to vote on which movie we watch today. Questions? Comments? Concerns?” 

Several hands shoot up into the air, “Yes, Savannah?” 

“Do you enjoy being the grim reaper of people’s childhood?” 

“I do, thank you for asking,” your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Miss L/n? Did you and Mr. Parker plan this?” A student asks aloud.

You tilt your head at his questions, “Plan what?” 

“Your costumes,” a string of students answered.

“Our costumes? Mr. Parker dressed up this year? What is he?” The excitement in your voice was apparent. 

“He’s a scarecrow, these girls– I don’t know their names but I think they’re in your third period, they were talking about it at lunch, they figured that he was the one from the movie since you’re Dorothy,” another student adds. 

“Well, I can confirm that it wasn't planned,” you tell them trying your best to conceal your joy

as you made your way to the door to look through the tiny window trying to see if you could catch a glimpse of him. 

You let out the faintest gasp when he walked into your line of vision, they were right Peter was a scarecrow, and by the looks of it, he was the scarecrow. “Vote on the movie, I’ll be right outside,” you announced to the class, before opening the door and holding it closed behind you as you stepped out into the hall and waved to Peter. 

There’s a rather mischievous look on his face as he stands in his doorway, a stuffed Cairn Terrier under his arm, “Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” he says, glancing at the plush. 

“You’re such a liar! You said you weren’t going to dress up,” you whisper loudly, a beaming smile on your face as you focus on the details of his costume, eyes darting from the burlap hood and peaked hat to the rope cinching his green shirt at the waist to the patchworked pants and pieces of straw sticking out. 

“It was a last-minute thing,” he states, shrugging his shoulders. 

You shake your head at him, “No way…the quality of your costume looks too good to be–”

“How come you weren’t at lunch today?” He asks, cutting you off. 

“Careful there, Parker, it almost sounds like you missed me,” you tease. 

“Yeah right,” he says with a scoff, “But seriously, what’s up? You haven’t left your room all day.”   

You peer over your shoulder and see your students chatting among themselves, “I’ll tell you later, I promised my kids we’d watch a movie of their choice today,” you say to him, cracking open the door just enough for you to slip in. 

—

There’s a smug look on MJ’s face as you and Peter walk past her about to get into her car, “You two off to see the wizard?” 

You could see Peter smile out the corner of your eye as you giggle and nod your head at her question. 

“Who suggested the matching costumes?” She asks, her eyes flickering from you to Peter. 

You were about to respond and tell her that wasn't the case but stop yourself from speaking when you see Peter mouth the words ‘shut up’ to her. 

Her gaze immediately shifts to meet your eyes, it was almost like she could see you connecting the dots, “No one did, I didn’t even know what she was going until I saw her,” Peter replies, his words rushed, a hint of panic 

“Well isn’t that a fun coincidence!” MJ says, a smirk spreading across her face, her eyes still fixed on you, ‘I know, you know’ is what they tell you. 

You nod in agreement, “Very fun…anyway we should probably get going, I gotta pack the last of my boxes.”  

“Boxes?” You hear Peter ask behind you as you bring MJ into a hug, “Traitor,” you whisper to her. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” she whispers back before pulling away and responding to him, “Yeah? She’s moving–I thought you told him?” 

“I was going to go on our walk, but yeah I’m moving, this weekend actually…it’s why you didn’t see me today–I’ve been emailing back and forth with the company that’s supposed to deliver the furniture I bought to and for my new apartment. They were supposed to come Saturday morning and assemble everything but now they’re coming on Sunday and are only delivering the furniture and the worst part about it is that the time window is so wide– twelve hours, Pete, twelve– from eight in the morning to eight in the night and I’m supposed to be there to sign for it but I’m going to be at my current place with the movers in the morning and I don’t want to take the risk of having no one there and getting that fucking ‘sorry we missed you’ note so now I have to find someone to wait there until I get over there with the movers just in case they come early but everyone’s busy on the week–” 

“I could do it.” 

“What?” 

“I could do it–I could wait at your new place for the delivery.”

“Are you sure Pete? You don’t have to–”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’m the one offering to help,” he reassured you. 

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the stressful weight of the situation being lifted off your shoulders. You take a step towards him, "Is it okay if I hug you?"

He doesn't say anything, instead, he moves to bridge the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest.

You lean further, allowing yourself to melt in his hold before snaking your arms around his waist. "This is nice," he says swaying the two of you ever so slightly from side to side.

"You're nice," you manage to mumble out before you both jump and pull away at the loud blare of a car horn.

A loud laugh can be heard as MJ rolls down the passenger side window, "I'll see you lovebirds later!" she exclaims before pulling out of her spot and driving down the street, leaving both you and Peter frozen in place trying to hide your flushed faces from each other.

Oh, Reader (or should I say BB?!) has got it baaaaad for him. Not that I blame Reader, but her inner thoughts went from he's cute, to he's cute and hot, to I hope he stays awhile and then backtracks because those inner thoughts are taking over, hehe. Trying to watch him without looking like she's watching him. Had me kicking my heels, because that's so real and flush worthy when someone kinda sorta likes someone after meeting them.

I love Ian. You have a nice hand at developing secondary characters and making them multi-dimensional and interesting with backgrounds and personalities of their own that complement the story in a variety of ways. Whether it's the shoulder to cry on, the taste-tester, or the what are you crazy, he's mad for you and you should jump in his lap advice-giver, these supporting roles are such an asset.

Now Peter's all but sighing with relief that Reader doesn't have some fancy pants Brit boyfriend that calls her pet names before he, Peter, even gets a chance to shoot his shot with the beautiful barista. Something tells me that coffee maker is going to stay broken....

Wonder what's coming up next for these two?

If Peter somehow has a croissant tossed at him (ala No Way Home) I will absolutely lose it.

*Also, I love to bake and cinnamon rolls are a favorite when taken in and shared at work. Your food descriptions are always a highlight!

Of Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls - Chapter 2

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x F!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Peter's coffee maker has broken, leaving him in need of a caffeine fix. Luckily, there's a new coffee shop right by the Daily Bugle... With a beautiful barista inside.

Warnings/Tags: Meet-Cute, Coffee Shops, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Dual, Alternating PoVs between Peter and Reader, minimal use of Y/N

Word Count: ~4k (this chapter got LONG)

A/N: It's taken me freaking FOREVER, but here we finally are with chapter 2! Hopefully future updates won't take me as long.

Tagging @tarzinnia since they've been patiently waiting for an update!!!

Ok, what else needs to be done? you thought to yourself as you bustled around the kitchen in your shop. You had worked your ass off to make your dream of owning your own business a reality, and today that dream was finally coming true, so needless to say... You were nervous.

You grabbed your to-do list off of the prep table and gave it a quick scan. Cookies are bagged, cake pops are finished, muffins are good to go, croissants are ready, banana bread is sliced, cinnamon rolls are done…  

You glanced at the clock. You had way more than enough time to shower and then relax for a bit before things would get busy again.

You made sure your oven was off before heading upstairs to your apartment above the shop. 

You hurried through a shower before changing into something nice enough to wear for your interview and photos, but still comfortable enough to work in.

And speaking of photos...

You grinned. Not only had you been pleasantly surprised to see the hot skater boy-esque customer from the morning come back into the shop in the afternoon right as you had decided to close, but you had been even more pleasantly surprised to find out that he worked for the Bugle and had been the one to suggest that they cover the opening for the paper. 

You had made a flimsy excuse to give him your number and was surprised to receive an incoming text from an unknown number right as you had finished prepping dough for the next morning’s baked goods and popping it in the fridge to chill overnight.

Hi, Y/N. This is Peter.

Peter Parker. 

From the Daily Bugle?

You had quickly washed your hands then sent a reply, a wide smile spreading across your face. Yes, Peter, hi, it's good to hear from you. What's up? :)

Sorry to bother you, but I just thought I'd text you so you'd have my number in case you had any questions about the interview tomorrow.

Oh it's not a bother at all. You've got perfect timing, actually. I just finished prepping dough.

Oh, what are you making?

Well for the opening we're going to have cookies and cake pops in addition to the regular baked goods, which'll be croissants, muffins, banana bread, and of course, cinnamon rolls. I was just trying to get a head start on the dough since I'll be making extra goodies for the grand opening.

Oh man, that all sounds amazing. I'm going to want to try everything.

Lol, I'll be sure to set one of each aside for you. It's the least I can do as thanks for the free publicity.

So what are you up to?

About to attempt to fix my coffeemaker before I have to head out for my other job.

I'll let you get to that then. Good luck!

Thanks. 

You glanced at the clock. You still had an hour and a half until your interview, but maybe Peter was up and wouldn't mind you texting him?

Morning, Peter! you typed. Any luck fixing your coffeemaker?

A few minutes later your phone lit up. 

Peter had sent you a photo of what you assumed was his coffee maker, except it was in pieces. It was captioned, Are there supposed to be leftover parts?

You laughed before sending your reply. Definitely not that many, lol.

You bit your lip. You know, you're more than welcome to come by early if you need a caffeine fix. 

...Only if you want to, of course.

No pressure.

You nervously chewed on your lip as you waited for his answer. After what seemed like the longest 10 seconds of your life, Peter's reply came through. I'd love to. Be there in 15?

You grinned. Sounds good. See you soon.

You set your phone down on your bathroom counter so you could fix your hair, then took another look at yourself in the mirror. Guess this is as good as it's gonna get.

You headed back downstairs to the shop, fixing yourself a cup of coffee before sitting at a table to wait for Peter.

You looked around, smiling to yourself. You had chosen decor that you thought made the shop feel open and welcoming while still somewhat whimsical and hoped that your customers felt the same.

Suddenly there was a tap on the door.

You looked over and grinned when you saw Peter waving at you. 

He was dressed similarly today as he had been the day before, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a buttoned-up flannel over it. His hair was styled in what you assumed was a purposely messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look and he was wearing black plastic-framed glasses. Damn, he is *hot*.

You waved back before getting up and walking over to the door to let him in. "Peter, hey. Come on in."

"Hi." Peter stepped inside and waited for you to lock the door behind him. "How's it going? All set for the opening?"

You nodded. "Yeah, actually. I live above the shop and couldn't sleep so I went ahead and got everything ready, but I've now found myself with an extra hour to kill."

You gestured to the table where your coffee sat. "Have a seat and I'll get your coffee ready."

You moved behind the counter as Peter set his bag down at the table. "Want anything to eat?" you asked.

Peter shook his head. "No thanks, I warmed up a cinnamon roll before I left."

You nodded and the machine to brew. "So how are you this morning?"

Peter shrugged. "Had a bit of a long night at my second job, but I'm good."

"Glad to hear that, despite the long night." You waited until the machine shut off and brought Peter his coffee. “Here you go.”

Peter smiled at you. “Thanks.”

You sat across from him and took a sip of your own beverage. "So what is the second job, if you don't mind me asking? Wait, let me guess... Private investigator?"

Peter laughed. "No, what gave you that idea?"

You shrugged, unable to help but smile at his adorable chuckle. "I dunno, it's the first thing that popped in my head that required a camera besides being a photojournalist."

Peter shook his head. "Actually, it has nothing to do with photography. I'm a security guard."

"Oh ok, that's neat. Where at?" You grimaced. Ugh, way to sound like a stalker.

You shook your head. "Wait, I'm sorry. I realize that sounds extremely nosy. I just meant that I'm planning on being down here late most nights doing prep for the next day, so… I mean, if you happen to work nearby you're welcome to drop in for a cup of coffee or some leftover pastries."

Peter shrugged. "It's fine. I just kind of fill in wherever I'm needed, which usually makes for a pretty flexible schedule but also long days, hence my immense and near-constant need for caffeine." 

He took a sip of his coffee. "But, uh, yeah. If I happen to find myself in the neighborhood I'll text you, if you don't mind?"

You smiled with relief. "Yeah, that'd be great."

The next hour flew by as you and Peter continued talking. Peter told you about growing up with his aunt and uncle, about his love of science, and about how he had gotten interested in photography, and in turn you told him about your own childhood and what had led you to want to open your own coffee shop.

"My grandmother taught me how to bake," you explained. "And she always added a splash of coffee to the wet ingredients for whatever we were making. 'The coffee is the secret ingredient,' she would always tell me. ‘But the true secret can only come from within’."

"So what is the true secret?" Peter asked, seemingly intrigued.

You shrugged. "I don't know. She said I would figure it out when the time was right."

Peter huffed out a laugh. "Well if you haven't figured it out yet I can't wait until you do. Your cinnamon rolls are excellent as is."

Your face heated. "Thanks."

Suddenly there was a knock on the front window.

You looked up in surprise then smiled brightly when you spotted your best friend, Ian, waving at you. You had made plans to go out to dinner with him that evening to celebrate the grand opening of Bean There, so you were pleasantly surprised to see him now. 

You stood. "Oh, sorry, hold on a second.”

You went over to the door and unlocked it, letting Ian in.

"Hello, love," Ian said in his crisp British accent before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart," you replied. "What a surprise, I thought I wasn't seeing you until tonight."

Ian shook his head. "I just wanted to stop by on my way into the office to wish you good luck on your opening today."

You smiled. Ian had been your biggest supporter while you had been working to procure the space for your shop and had helped you with choosing the furniture and decor. "Aww, thank you, honey, you're so sweet."

Ian glanced over at Peter, curiosity evident in his eyes. "I tried texting you, but I guess you were busy.”

You patted at your pockets, realization dawning on you that your phone was still sitting on your bathroom counter. "Oh shoot, I must've forgotten my phone upstairs."

Ian shook his head. "It's fine, darling, no big deal. I'm just glad I got to see you."

"Me too." You turned towards Peter. "By the way, this is Peter Parker, the photojournalist from the Bugle . Peter, this is Ian."

"Nice to meet you," Ian said, walking over and shaking Peter's hand.

"Same to you," Peter replied.

"Want anything before you go, sweetheart?" you asked Ian.

Ian grinned in reply. "Oh, darling, you know I can't resist your banana bread." 

"Peter, you want some more coffee?"

Peter looked hesitant, as if he felt bad about accepting your offer. "Uh, sure."

You picked up Peter's cup and walked back over to the coffee machine, grabbing a fresh to-go cup for Ian and putting 2 pumps of strawberry rose syrup and 1 pump of white chocolate syrup in it before programming the machine to brew both his and Peter's coffee simultaneously.

"Have you tried Y/N's banana bread?" you heard Ian ask Peter.

You looked over at them as Peter shook his head. "I've only had her cinnamon rolls."

Ian let out a pleased sound. "It's incredible, mate. Then again, everything she makes is incredible, and trust me, I've tried it all."

"Ian was kind enough to be my taste tester while I was perfecting my recipes for the shop," you explained to Peter, your face warming at Ian's praise as you steamed some milk to add to his coffee.

"Anything to support my girl," Ian said with a wink. “And to get free pastries.”

You finished making Ian's latte then boxed up 2 slices of banana bread for him to take with him. "That reminds me, though..." 

You brought everything back over to the table. "Peter, I boxed up a sample of everything for you. Remind me to give it to you before you leave."

You handed Ian's banana bread and coffee to him. "Here you go, sweetheart. Just like you like it."

Ian took a sip and nodded. "Mmm, perfect as always. Thanks, love."

He gave you another kiss on the cheek then whispered in your ear, “You go, girl. He is gorgeous.”

You giggled and nodded. "I agree."

Ian straightened. "Bye, darling, love you." 

"Love you too. See you tonight."

Ian turned towards Peter. "Nice meeting you."

Peter gave him a slight wave. "Yeah, you too."

You followed Ian to the door so you could lock it back behind him.

You walked back over to Peter and sat once again. “Sorry about that.”

Peter shrugged and cleared his throat. "It's okay. So, how long have you been together?"

Your brow furrowed. "Who, me and Ian?”

Peter nodded, a slightly confused look blooming across his face. “Yeah.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, Ian's not my boyfriend." 

"Oh, he's not?" Peter's cheeks pinkened adorably. "My bad, I just assumed..."

"It's fine, it's a really common misconception. Ian and I have been best friends since 4th grade so we're super close, but it's not in a romantic way at all." 

You and Ian had met on Ian's first day as a new student in your class. You had invited him to sit with you at lunch and had been inseparable since, including spending summers together in England to visit his mom when she had moved back after his parents had divorced while the two of you were in high school and living together as roommates in college.

You let out a light laugh. “Besides, I don't think Ian's husband would be too pleased if I made a move on him, especially since I not only introduced them, but also was Ian's best woman at their wedding.”

Peter laughed. "Yeah, that might make things a bit awkward."

You bit your lip. "I'm, um, I'm actually not seeing anyone at the moment. Been too busy focusing on my career and trying to open my shop. Kinda difficult to find time to date when you're constantly working, you know?"

Peter nodded.  "Yeah, I get that."

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to come off as nonchalant. "So what about you? Seeing anyone?"

"Oh, um, no, I'm not seeing anyone either right now." Peter hesitated momentarily. "Uh, like you said, too busy with work and stuff."

"Yeah."

Peter jumped slightly as his phone rang. He reached into his pocket to pull it out, briefly looking at the screen before swiping to answer the call. “Excuse me a minute. Hey, Betty, what's up?”

You stood, not wanting to eavesdrop on Peter’s conversation.

Peter glanced up at you. "Oh, uh, actually, I'm already here. Uh huh, yeah, sure. No problem. See ya."

He hung up. "Betty said she'll be here soon. She tried to call you."

You nodded. "I should probably go get my phone in case my employee is also trying to reach me. I'll be right back, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. If Betty gets here before you get back, you want me to let her in?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

You got up and headed behind the counter to wash your cup then ran upstairs to grab your phone, taking a moment to breathe before returning downstairs to find Peter talking to the reporter who had set up the interview with you the day before. 

You smiled. "Miss Brant, good morning."

"Hi," Betty replied.

"Can I get you some coffee?"

“Yes, that would be great, thank you.”

"Something to eat? We have croissants, muffins, banana bread, and cinnamon rolls, along with cookies and cake pops for the grand opening."

"Sure, I'll take a cinnamon roll. Thank you."

"Peter? Sure you don't want anything?"

Peter thought for a second. "Well, maybe a piece of banana bread?"

You nodded with a smile. "Coming right up."

Peter pulled out his camera as you walked over to the display case. "Mind if I take a few pictures? I want to get some test shots in before the official opening."

You shook your head. "That's fine."

You plated Betty and Peter's baked goods along with a croissant for yourself and made Betty's coffee while Peter took a few photos.

You slid Peter's slice of banana bread over to him. "Here you go."

Peter took a bite of his banana bread as you carried Betty's coffee and cinnamon roll and your croissant to the table. "Mmph, this really is delicious."

You smiled, pleased that he liked it. "Thanks."

"Okay," Betty said, turning on a digital recorder. "I'd like to get started, if that's okay with you."

You nodded. "Sure."

Betty cleared her throat. "This is Betty Brant with the Daily Bugle interviewing Y/F/N Y/L/N, proprietor of Bean There, Done That. So, Ms. Y/L/N…"

"Y/N, please," you interrupted.

"Y/N," Betty corrected. "Tell me a bit about yourself."

You told Betty much of what you had already told Peter, about baking with your grandmother as a child and how she had left you enough money to start your bakery. "I really miss her," you said, "but I know she's watching over me."

"And how did you come up with the name of your shop?" Betty asked.

You grinned. “My best friend Ian actually suggested that name. I wanted something catchy and memorable so he and I bounced around ideas until we arrived at ‘Bean There, Done That’.”

Betty smiled. "Care to share any of the rejected names?"

"Oh gosh, there were so many, and they got more and more ridiculous as we went on. Let's see, there was 'Caffeinated Bliss', 'Let's Get Roasted', 'Java the Time?', 'Espresso Yourself', and 'The Daily Grind', to name a few." 

You and Ian had drank several bottles of wine at his kitchen table together while coming up with the perfect name for your shop so several of the rejected names had been hilariously inappropriate. “I also considered naming the shop after my grandmother but ultimately decided against it.”

Betty nodded. "I see."

She asked you several more questions while Peter took a few more photos of both you and the shop, then finally turned off her recorder. "Okay, I think that's all the questions I have for you. Thanks for your time."

You nodded and stood. "Thanks for your time as well."

You walked over to the counter and picked up a couple of bakery boxes you had packed while you were getting everything set up. "Here, I packed some baked goods for you and the Bugle staff."

Betty nodded. "Thanks. I'm sure everyone will appreciate it."

She turned to Peter. "Peter, I'll see you at the office later."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, see ya later."

You walked Betty to the door. “Thank you again for your time.”

“You too,” Betty replied. “I'll email you a link to the article once it's live.”

You nodded. “I'd appreciate that.”

"Is there anything else you need to do before the opening, anything I can help you with?" Peter asked once Betty had left.

You shook your head. "Nope, I think everything is set."

Your phone rang, Olivia’s name flashing across the screen. "Oh, sorry, one second. Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N,” Olivia replied over the phone’s speaker. “It's Liv.”

“Oh, yeah, Liv, hi.” You had hired Olivia, who was working her way through college and thankfully had experience as a barista, part-time for weekday mornings but had asked her to come in today for the grand opening since you weren't sure how busy you would be.

“Just letting you know that I'm on my way and will be there in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay, great. I'll see you in a few then.”

“See you soon. Bye.”

“Okay, bye.”

You hung up. "Sorry about that. That was my employee, Olivia. She was just letting me know that she'd be here in a minute so I could open the door for her."

You checked your watch then grabbed your outdoor chalkboard sign, on which you had written ‘Grand Opening! Free samples inside!’. "Actually, it's close enough to 8 to where I think I can just go ahead and open."

Peter walked over to the door. "Here, I'll get the door for you."

You smiled at him as he held it open for you. Hot and a gentleman too. Swoon. "Thanks."

Peter shrugged. "Of course. Oh, that reminds me, I need to get some posed shots of you out in front of the building before you get too busy."

You nodded as you set the sign out front. "Oh, yeah, sure. Where do you want me?"

"Let's see…" Peter stepped back a bit. "How about here next to the sign?"

You moved to stand beside it. "Here?"

Peter shook his head. “Maybe a bit closer?”

You stepped sideways a bit. “How about now?”

Peter checked the shot. "Yeah, that's perfect."

He took a few photos, then checked to make sure they were okay. "Alright, we're good."

You grinned. "Great. Thanks, Peter."

"No problem."

The two of you headed back inside, you pausing to flip the sign on the door from closed to open. “I need to go grab the first batch of samples. One second.”

You went to the kitchen, where you had set up individual bite-size portions of everything on two large, round trays covered with clear domes. 

You brought them out and set them down on the counter before putting a little tag in front identifying what each tray held. “Okay, now I think we're all set.”

A minute later, the bell above the front door chimed and Olivia walked in. 

“Morning, Y/N,” she said with a friendly smile.

“Morning, Liv,” you replied. “Thanks for coming in today.”

Olivia nodded. “No problem. Happy to help out.”

You gestured to Peter. “This is Peter Parker. He's taking photos of the opening for the Bugle. Peter, this is Olivia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Olivia said as she grabbed her apron off of a hook by the door to the kitchen area.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, you too.”

You rubbed your hands together. “Okay, Liv, if you take the coffee machine, hopefully we'll start getting some customers in soon.”

“Are you expecting a lot?” Peter asked.

“Fingers crossed. I know that this area is busier during the week than it is on the weekend -- which is why we're only open for four hours on Saturday -- but we sent out a mailer advertising the grand opening with a coupon good for a free baked good with purchase of a coffee today only, so hopefully we get a good turnout.” You looked towards the door as the bell chimed, butterflies fluttering around your stomach in both excitement and nervousness. “And actually, there's my first customer! Let me get to it.”

You and Olivia spent the next two hours serving customers and refilling both the display case and sample trays while Peter took photos. 

“Thank you, come again!” you said to what felt like your millionth customer as the shop finally emptied. “Phew.”

You turned towards Olivia. “Liv, you wanna grab you something to eat and take like a 15-minute break? I'll call you up if I need you.”

Olivia nodded. “That sounds great, Y/N. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Peter said, quickly scrolling through his photos as Olivia left to go take her break. “I think I have everything I need.”

You nodded. “I really appreciate you suggesting that the Bugle cover the opening.”

Peter shrugged. “It's not a problem. Always happy to help out a new business, especially one with such delicious treats.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” You grabbed the bakery box full of goodies you had set aside for him. “Don't forget your samples.”

Peter nodded and took the box. “Oh yeah, thanks. I really appreciate it.”

You pointed towards the coffee machine. “Did you want a coffee for the road? I mean, since your coffee maker at home is still broken.” Not since I'm enjoying having you around and am trying to delay you leaving, even if it's just by a minute or two.

“Yeah, I'd love one.”

“Okay, 1 sec.”

You brewed his coffee, resolutely trying to ignore his eyes on you, then brought it over to him. “Let me know how you like the pastries.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Peter glanced at the door as a couple of customers entered. “So I'll… see you around then?”

You nodded. “That’d be great.” 

“Great.” Peter stepped out from in front of the register so you could help your customers. “Thanks again for the coffee and stuff.”

“No problem.”

You watched as he left, taking advantage of your customers being distracted by studying the menu board to wistfully sigh to yourself. Hopefully I'll see him again soon.

I love this man with all my heart

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

I don't know if my ask got 'eaten' or not, but I did send it while I was on the road so I may have screwed it up anyway. My ask is based on your reblog of the 3 word sentences and if you care to, it's a twofer based plot: numbers 12 and 18 (just do it and you look lost) because I am a dithering decision maker except!! when I am going somewhere in which case my overconfidence gets me in trouble, something Peter knows too well himself. Love your writing!

unfortunately it did but I love this prompt so thank you for resending it!

Prompts can be found here

Peter is fairly sure that he's the one who's always late to everything. Every single seminar for this new Oscorp tech breakdown, he's the one who's five minutes late, and he swears it's not his fault.

It's just that he always happens to run into Spider-Man duties. He always finds another old woman who needs to cross the street, or a newspaper stand that has just been stolen from, and then after saving the day, he can make time towards catching the next subway train to Oscorp and hopefully run up the stairs, through the door, into the lobby, elevator, and then to the board room with a minute to spare. It always works out better in his head. 

He doesn't understand why Harry needs him there. Peter knows technology stuff like the back of his hand– he already understood what the seminar leader who oversaw the development of the new tech was saying halfway through the meeting, and basically put the concluding points together before the meeting was even over. 

Peter is nothing if not a good friend. Or employee who will be sent off with a strict warning if he doesn’t at least try.

This time, though? Peter has just made it to the subway station, and his glance catches onto a woman with a muted blue handbag, looking mostly competent and professional in a blazer, staring at the map, very obviously confused. He decides to be a good civilian and take a moment to help her. Just as Peter Parker, good guy who has two extra minutes to spare. Not because she happens to be a little more pleasant to look at than the rest of the passerby. She does really have bright eyes, though, and the way they catch onto every written detail of the map has Peter wanting those eyes on him.

Unfortunately, as she’s dithering and Peter approaches a little too slowly, about to work up the nerve to ask if she needs help, she suddenly mutters “Just do it! Who cares…” with a sudden bout of confidence, and she walks off towards the train heading North. The same train Peter is due to take.

Peter is kind of elated by this, even though he knows he’s a total dork and he doesn’t actually have the courage to speak to her. Even though Harry makes life sound like a romance movie– that apparently all it takes is the right conversation starter– Peter knows he can’t manage it. He’ll trip over his words and make the wrong jokes, and she’ll give him a polite nod while secretly dialing 911.

He’s just happy to have a commute crush to stare at.

The southbound train arrives from the opposite side of the road, and loudly beeps as the doors open.

Peter’s Spider-Sense goes off and he sees that a bunch of people are starting to exit the train, right into the poor woman who gets turned around a bunch of times and then looks utterly lost. Helpless. Eyes widening with the telltale fear of someone who doesn’t know where they’re going. 

Well, we can’t have that, can we? Peter decides to saunter up to her and be her hero of the day.

/

You are so horrible with making decisions sometimes. Unless, of course, it’s taking a new journey somewhere, with directions you’re not exactly familiar with– for some reason leaping into it headfirst works better, cements it into your brain better if you have to travel around these parts around later, and you usually have the time to figure it out.

Of course, this time you’re late. This time, when you need to present a great big presentation at Oscorp, where your big new tech job is, you’re late, and you had to be overconfident about figuring out the directions.

God, couldn’t you have just asked for help?

As you’re beginning to spiral– was it the north train, or the south, will this crowd ever dissipate properly, and is there time to look at your notes for your presentation on the train?– someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.” A friendly looking guy with warm brown hair, and eyes, is staring at you, not unkindly. He pulls you aside, out of the crowd, and you’re thankful– but a little wary. 

“You look lost. Are you good?” The man has to lean in closer to you, and kind of yell-speak over the crowd, who are finally moving away to the above ground.

“Uh… No. I’ll be honest.” You cross your arms and huff, glad that someone could see that you needed help, and you feel a little happy that your saviour happened to be a smart, handsome guy who doesn’t look particularly judgemental, and you pull out your phone from your bag. “I’m trying to get to–”

“Oscorp?” He reads your phone and blinks, and then looks affronted that he spoke so soon. “Sorry. I just read your phone screen– I know that’s not proper etiquette. I’m going there too.”

“Uh-huh.” You fix your eyes on him, and Peter feels a funny twinge in his heart– something warm and soft as you size him up, making your own teasing assumptions of him. You half-smirk. “How do I know I can trust you? That you won’t just lead me to a random dungeon full of murdered women?”

You feel that you might’ve scared him off– you always come off a little too strong.

“Uhhhh, I was going to say I probably don’t look like a serial killer, but then again, you never know as a woman, right? Plus that’s some unnecessary bias and profiling on my part.” Peter fishes around in his pocket for his Oscorp ID, snorting at your joke, but also knowing that you’re not wrong to be concerned. “See? I’m Peter Parker. One of Oscorp’s biotech engineers.”

“Alliterative. Very cool.” You smile at him genuinely, glad to see that he is worth trusting, and he’s about to say something when the northbound train comes in.

“Hey, that’s us. Just two stops and then we’re at Oscorp.” Peter lets you walk ahead of him into the train, and you do so with some speed.

“Nervous?” He asks as the train starts going. He’s holding onto the loop for stability, while you lean against an arm rail. The train is kind of packed– and Peter is just a teeny bit happy for it, since it means he gets to stand a little close to you. He’s not trying to be a creep– you’re just cute.

“Very.” You shake out your hands, trying to chill out, and then reach inside your bag for your cue cards. “I’m starting out as a software developer– working on a genome editing program– and I’m doing a presentation on that today.”

“Oh, I’m in that seminar too. Although usually it’s just some dude presenting… not exactly someone like you.” Peter immediately facepalms, hiding in his hands for a moment before shaking his head, brown hair flopping about. “Sorry, I just mean… he’s not a cute girl, you know?”

Nice going, Parker. Peter groans and his hands remain on his face now, totally embarrassed by what he’s said.

“Oh–” You turn to him, but Peter interrupts you first.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean your looks are everything– I know how hard it is to be a woman in STEM, to get judged on things that have nothing to do with your credentials–” Peter swallows and sighs. “I’m not saying you were hired for your face– I’m sure you’re a very intelligent person.”

Peter feels your hand hesitantly touch his and move them, so he can get a look at your expression. You don’t look upset, just flattered, maybe with a hint of a laugh crossing your eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way. Good to know you’re not a typical STEM bro, though.” You read through your notes again, and Peter feels a bit of relief. “Thanks, by the way. You’re a cute guy too.”

You don’t know where exactly that came from, maybe an unexpected bout of courage bolstered by the adrenaline from your oncoming presentation, but it’s not like it’s false– this guy is very cute and you know you’re going to struggle if you have to work with him. You can’t quite look at Peter for the rest of the train ride, staring out the window. You catch a little grin on his face.

/

“So, genome editing, huh? That’s actually part of my work right now. Except more in the lab at the moment– working on synthesising frog DNA.” Peter shudders jokingly, and you laugh as you walk with him.

“Yeah, I’m basically the one who made the software program you’ll be using from now on. I just gotta make it easy for you guys to understand.” You inhale, and Peter can see that you’re still really nervous about your presentation. 

“Hey.” He gives you a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, in front of the building. “You got this.”

“Really?” You look up at him, bright eyes glassy with sudden fears. “But you don’t really know me, right? For all you know, I’m going to run out of the room with stage fright.”

“No way.” Peter grins, self assuredly. “You wouldn’t be talking to an almost stranger if that was true.”

“I mean… kind of true. I just don’t want to mess up.” You sigh and pinch your forehead, thinking it over.

“Okay, how about this?” Peter decides on something silly, but something that also allows him to shoot his shot. When else was a pretty software developer going to just fall into his lap like this?

He ignores that image. 

“If you don’t ace this presentation: who cares? People might be a little awkward about it, but they’re just people. It’s not a big deal.” Peter starts, and he sees you visibly brighten a little at that. “But if you do, you win something real special: a coffee date with Peter Parker.”

“Oh, I do?” You snort at his blatant flirting, but you can’t help but feel better with that potential date hanging over your shoulder. Peter Parker happens to be very sweet, at least so far, and you want to see just how far this could go. “Okay. I like the sound of that, but acing this presentation probably involves being there on time…”

You and Peter run through the lobby into the elevator– and you swallow your fears as you enter the boardroom, apologizing to the many developers and technicians about having to make them wait.

/

At the end of your very enlightening presentation– Peter knew there had to be no way he knew everything about this particular software since he had never tried it yet, and the fact that the original presenter seemed to be kind of vague on the details made it seem simpler than it was– you smile at him, and Peter grins back, knowing that he’s just won himself a date with you. 

was searching for this and I FOUND IT

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

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yes peter I’ll get a sandwich with you

please I beg can you write a Peter Parker x reader one shot where the reader gets injured and when Peter visits her in the hospital her heart rate monitor keeps going crazy and he kind of teases her about it and she’s embarrassed but overall it’s fluffy 🙏🙏 maybe some angst because he’s worried and protective when she gets hurt but then it’s fluffy!! the heart rate monitor could expose her crush or just show the effect he has on her if they’re in an established relationship but that’s up to you <3333

omg i love this idea so much 😭

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open (but no guarantee of writing-)

masterlist

the last thing you remembered was the bus hurling towards you. but peter had saved you.

right?

you saw flashes of his costume before you fell unconscious.

to say your friendship with peter was new would be denying the fact that you just started talking to him four months back when you two got paired for a class project. the two of you had mainly bonded over the fact that he was spider-man, obviously after you’d caught him changing into his suit in the music room.

you teased him to no avail over what would have happened if someone like flash walked in on him instead of you.

it was another boring day in queens– just like the one before– or so you thought.

after school, you decided to grab a sandwich from delmar’s. you had become a fan of their subs since peter introduced you to the deli and mr delmar. you took your sandwich and were exiting the shop when you felt the ground shake beneath your legs.

as the glass door slid out of your way, you made an exit, only to notice the commotion and all the noise. your eyes widened as you watched peter– or spider-man– holding a microphone as he spoke to a guy in a big metallic suit that looked like a rhino.

your heart skipped five beats at once as peter swung towards the guy. mr delmar was the one who shook your shoulders, snapping you out of your daze. it was as if you were frozen on the spot. you looked at the man and then back at peter before you were pulled away by mr delmar who ran away from the centre of the event grabbing your arm.

your eyes were focused behind, head turned in the direction of your friend, fighting the gigantic metallic thing. where did the guy even get this?!

when the guy in the big rhino suit stomped, everything from the ground to the buildings around you shook. the police cars were thrown around as peter urged for every citizen to evacuate the area.

the moment his mask eyes met yours, they widened, a sudden panic evident on his face even with the mask on. he swung over to you, his wide eyes meeting yours up close, “what are you doing here?!” he asked, both hands on your shoulders just like mr delmar had done to snap you out of it.

he was quick to pull you into an alleyway, away from the eyes of the rhino guy.

“i-i was getting a sandwich.” you answered, suddenly realising said sandwich wasn’t in your possession anymore, “i lost it…”

“you can’t be- don’t worry about the sandwich, get out of here!” he said, waving his hands around anxiously.

“peter, i’m worried-”

“don’t be. i got it.” he assured. you frowned, clearly not convinced by that.

“but, pete…”

“just go. as soon as this is over, we’ll get a sandwich.” he promised. at least this time you had the adrenaline to blame for making your heart skip a beat.

the two of you then had to part as he escorted you out of the alley, sending you off to the direction opposite to the rhino. you ran as fast as your legs would let you but the bust that rhino threw your way was faster.

and the last thing you heard was peter yelling your name.

your heart was still in your throat when you opened your eyes. you winced at the bright lights. who needed this amount of lights during the daytime. a sound of steady beeps filled your ears as the thumping in your ears subsided.

trying to move was a mistake as you felt the dull pain in the back of your skull. then you noticed it. a hand wrapped around yours, which was resting on the hospital bed.

“hey, hey, you’re okay.” peter’s soft voice fell in your ears as your eyesight slowly adjusted to the lights on the off-white ceilings, “you’re fine.”

“what… what happened?” you asked as your head turned slightly. peter saw your struggle and helped adjust the bed so you could see him better.

“do you remember the fight? with the rhino?” peter’s voice was hesitant.

“yeah… i do.” you said, eyebrows furrowed as he continued.

“y-you were hurt but… spider-man saved you.” he gave you a look of assurance but you could tell he was worried, “you hit your head and the doctors said- they said you might not remember a few things and i thought…”

“i’d forget you?” you finished the sentence he left off and peter nodded hesitantly. your frown deepened, “how could i?”

you wanted to say more but all you could do was squeeze his hand. peter smiled at you and your heart fluttered.

“you okay?” the brunette asked, looking at your heart rate monitor which sped up by a fraction, “it’s normal to be anxious after what happened today, but you’ll be okay.” his voice was worried and you couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread throughout your chest.

did you just get caught by peter. you’d never really acknowledged the heart but peter was quick to read the monitor again as he placed a hand on your shoulder, “y/n, you alright?”

“yes, peter.” you said quickly, “the accident and that big rhino guy, so you know?” you laughed awkwardly, “my head hurts.”

your attempt to change the topic of the conversation became successful as peter nodded, “oh yeah... you were out for a few hours because they put you on painkillers.” he gave you a pursed smile, “might have to stay here a few days.”

“oh?” you asked.

“your parents said they’d bring some necessary stuff so, they must be on their way back now.” peter explained. it took you a few moments to take it all in but then you nodded.

“are you okay though?”

“me? oh, i’m alright.” a soft squeeze to your hand made you realise that peter and you had been holding hands since the moment you opened your eyes and you cussed at yourself for letting your heart speed up at the thought.

peter’s eyes flickered to the heart rate monitor again, “what is it?”

“you’re holding my hand.” you pointed out, feeling your face heat up.

“yeah, but what- oh.” he realised what you were implying and his own cheeks turned a shade of pink, “oh?” not even a second later a smug look overtook peter’s features, “did i do that?”

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you failed miserably to hide what you’d been trying to all along when the heart rate monitor kept picking up your increased heartbeat, “can we turn this thing off?”

“quite frankly i’m enjoying it.” peter chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“this is not fair to me!” you tried to sound offended however the smile on your face gave it away.

you two ended up sharing a laugh but as soon as it died down, peter spoke, “you know i think, if i was attached to that ‘thing’, i would have the same reaction.”

“you would?” you raised your eyebrows. it was your turn to give peter a smug look.

peter’s hand made its way over to where it had previously been, holding yours, “maybe after you’re discharged, we can go out, say… get a sandwich?”

you gave him a smile, “it’s a date.”

Stacked Against You

Summary: You confront Spider-Man about his true identity, manila envelope style (literally).

Goosebumps rise all over your body as the cold wind from the now-open window brushes past your exposed skin. You don’t need to look up, you know exactly who it is. “Sorry I’m late, some idiot tried to rob the pizza place on 13th Street.” The sound of his voice was deeper than normal, something he did when came to visit you like this.

“Romeo’s? They have some of the best pizza I’ve ever had. Are you hurt?” You can hear his footsteps approaching you, causing you to glance up at him. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ as he speaks. He sits beside you on the bed, “Tonight was really calm aside from the robbery attempt towards the end, I helped an old lady carry her groceries home, and she gave me one of those strawberry hard candies.” 

“The ones with the filling, because those are so good.” You can see him nod his masked head out of the corner of your eye. “How was your day?” 

You fall back onto the bed, “It was fine, I’ve been going back and forth about doing something.” He mirrors your actions and falls back too, “What’s got you so lost in your thoughts?” You sit upright, taking a deep breath before exhaling the word ‘you’. 

“What?” The eyes of his mask furrowed, further expressing his confusion. “You’re Peter Parker.” 

The eyes of his mask widened, “Wh-What?” You repeat yourself, “You’re Peter Parker.”

“No! Why would you even think that? Who even is that?” His voice was laced with panic as he sat up. You move off the bed and towards your desk, opening the drawer. Your back is turned to him when you say, “I’m glad you asked,” turning around with a manila envelope in hand, his name-his real name written in thick black marker. 

You start by pulling out old pages of a newspaper containing photos of Spider-Man, “Peter Parker is a close friend of mine, but more importantly, he’s a part-time photographer at the Daily Bugle. In fact, he’s their best photographer, because he’s the only person that manages to capture you on camera well,” 

“Oh, so you think I’m some photographer? I can assure you I’m not,” he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t think, I know. The angle these photos are taken can only be taken by one person, you. No normal person can take these. Do you honestly expect me to believe these weren’t taken with a self-timer? This one is literally a close-up of you scaling the side of a building,” you shove the pictures in his face. 

“And don’t even get me started on the videos of you fighting or all the times I’ve patched you up and Peter just so happened to have a bruise or scar in those exact spots?” you interrogated. 

“That’s just a coincidence,” he’s trying to reason with you. 

“No, Pete. Once is a chance, twice is a coincidence, and three or more times is a pattern. Then your voice-”

“What about my voice?” 

“You always try to make it deeper but it never holds, it always falters. You always end up actually sounding like yourself, always!” 

“I have no idea what yo-” 

You step closer to him, shaking your head, “No, none of that. There’s no use denying it…the evidence is stacked against you, Tiger.” 

Peter’s glad his mask is still on to hide his flustered face at the nickname. He lets out a nervous laugh and takes a deep breath before grabbing the back of his mask and pulling it up, revealing a bashful smile and fluffy hair. 

You can’t help but grin at him, “I knew it!” 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Mad at you for being a superhero? Absolutely not. Worried? Definitely. I mean, Pete, you are the only person I know who runs toward danger. I’ve always worried about you and your safety, even before I knew, back when you were just Peter.”  

He lets out a sigh of relief, “Really? I know this is a lot to take in, I don’t want you to think I didn’t trust you enough to tell you.” 

You stand between his legs and place your hands on his shoulders, “I know you trust me. You wouldn’t come to me when you get hurt if you didn’t.” 

One of his hands rests on the back of your thigh, and the other plays with the edge of your shirt. “Can I ask what really tipped you off?” 

You smile down at him before opening your mouth, “There were a few things I kept a close eye on like you running off in the direction a siren was coming from. The places you had bruises and scars, as you, would match up with the videos of where Spider-Man got hit in your latest fight or an area I helped you ice or stitch up. And then your moles, you have a million of them, it’s not hard to miss when I’m cleaning your bloodied chest. You’re also in skin-tight spandex, I recognized your frame.” 

“You know for being just a friend, you sure do pay a lot of attention to me, honey.” There’s a smugness to his voice. 

Your cheeks heat up at his words, focusing your gaze on the wall behind him, “I’m just an observant person.”

“Uh-uh, that might be true but that’s not just the case now is it?” His gloved hand slips under your shirt, thumb drawing circles against your skin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Peter’s smirk grows, “I think you do, baby. I think you-” his voice falls into a whisper “- I think you love me.” You turn your head to meet his eyes and exclaim “What!” 

“You love me, you’re in love with me.” His confidence is beyond visible. 

“I am? That’s quite the accusation, I’d ask to see your evidence but I’m almost certain you don’t have any.” You were trying to hold your own but it felt like he could see right through you. 

“Well I don’t exactly have the same kind of proof as you but I know I’m right.”  You give him a skeptical look, “Oh, do tell.” 

He starts running the hand he has on the back of your thigh up and down. “You do that,” he says. 

“What do you mean?” There’s a wicked look on his face, “Your heart starts racing when I touch you.” It was true, your heart was pounding against your ribs, but there was no way he could know that…right?

It’s as if he could read your mind because he continues speaking, “When I got bit, I didn’t just become super strong, my sense heightened. Including my hearing, especially my hearing. And right now, and every other time I touch you, your heart races.” 

You didn’t know the full extent of his powers, you knew he had super strength and a sixth sense but you felt dumb not even considering the fact he could have super hearing. “So the time you held my hand-”

“When we were crossing the street and your heart skipped a beat and you held your breath for like twenty seconds, yeah I heard that.”

“Oh, my god.” Your cheeks were now burning. 

“You also always have your hands on me, not that I mind, I really like it.” You open your mouth to contest his statement but he cuts you off before you have the opportunity, “Before you deny it, I would like to point out you’ve been stroking my cheek this entire time.” You were, hadn’t even realized you were doing it, you begin to pull your hand away from his face when he leans into your touch. 

He pulls you closer, causing you to straddle his lap. “I love you. I know you love me too, you can lie to my face but your heart will give you up every time.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, he loves you, and hearing him say that makes you melt. 

“I love you, I have for a while now,” you whisper against his neck. “I know you have, honey,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Do you really listen to my heartbeat?” You asked, you had to know, the idea made your heart swell, you wanted it to be real. “Of course, I do. It’s my favorite sound, I love hearing that I have the same effect on you that you have on me.” 

“Oh, Tiger, you’re truly something else.… gimme me a kiss, please?” You close your eyes and pucker your lips waiting for his lips to meet yours. A warm feeling takes over when you feel his lips press into you. The kiss starts off delicate, the both of you were so giddy that you’re grinning against each other. The giddiest doesn’t go away but minimizes when your eagerness takes over, turning the kiss from sweet and gentle to heated and a bit sloppy with Peter’s tongue slipping into your mouth when you let out a small gasp after he gives your ass a squeeze. Your fingers work their way through his hair, tugging at it slightly, smiling when he groans into your moan. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, “You’ll be the death of me, honey.” 

Hi jade <3 If you’re ever in the mood to write Peter, can I request a reader who’s scared of spiders & the irony of this is not lost on him but he’s still sweet and doesn’t hold it against her lol. Sending love!!

thank you for your request angel!! boyfriend!peter x fem!reader

Peter's skateboard sounds like a storm as he rolls in, wheels grinding the uneven asphalt path to his house. It thunks over the first paving stone. Peter hops off and kicks it up into his waiting hand smoothly. 

He smiles like he's being presented with a real treat. 

"Hey," he says, "did you text me?" 

You bump your knees together. Peter bends just a little at the waist to talk to you face to face where you perch.

"I called you, but I figured you'd be away from the phone," you say lightly. "What are you listening to?" 

Peter hands you his phone, tucking an earphone into your ear with practised ease, and stands, pulling the keys from his pocket. He makes a confused sound when the door locks rather than opens. 

"It's open?" he asks. 

"I used the spare key." You get to your feet, his music playing in your ear. "That's okay, right?" 

"That's why I told you where it is," he says fondly. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, his face lined with a usual playfulness, his smile laid over yours. "Why are we out here, then, waiting for me?" 

"Can you play the song you showed me on Friday?" you ask rather than hurt his feelings. 

"It's on there," he says. After a moment he ducks back to find it for you on his playlist, Is This It by The Strokes. He'd played it for you somewhere between heavy kisses and asking if you'd play with his hair. "Did you eat?" 

Peter pushes the front door open and tries to pull you in with him, his hand on your wrist amicably, more insistent when you don't follow. He grins at you, hands vying for your underarms. "Is this a new kind of game you want to play?" he asks.

You let him grab you, but plant your feet. His earphone pops from your ear to dangle between you, and he apologises unnecessarily. He gets so concerned over little things, you know he won't give you shit for why you'd really been outside, but that doesn't make telling him less humiliating.   

"Peter," you say, "don't laugh, but there was a really big spider in there, and I lost it, and I don't know where it went. I can't go back in there." 

Peter, to his credit, really doesn't laugh. "How big?"

You show him with your hand. He snorts, but when he looks up it's without any condescension. "You see the irony, right? I'm the biggest spider you're ever going to meet. You scared of me?" 

"No," you mumble, tilting your head back as he dips forward to kiss you under the ear. His arms wrap around your back and you let the entirety of your weight fall against him, a strange and intrinsic pleasure in knowing he wouldn't ever drop you. "You're not gonna bite me." 

He laughs into your neck. "I don't know… I could definitely bite you." 

"You're not venomous, though." 

Peter stands up and pulls you up to full height. "Where was it, pretty girl? I'll go catch it." 

"In the kitchen? I spilled a glass of water, sorry, it kind of shocked me." 

"It's okay. You're scared of spiders, you can't help it. I'll catch it and let it out here, how's that? Find something for us to listen to after, I was thinking we'd make fresh pasta?" He walks as he talks, disappearing into his house, voice bouncing off of the walls. "Where was it?" 

"By the sink," you call. 

"Top or underneath?" 

"By the faucets, Pete!" 

Peter opens a cabinet. There's quiet for a minute, a nerve-wracking silence that makes you think he's found it and is planning to sneak up on you with it, but there's a plastic sound and then he shouts, "I have it!" 

You scramble away from the door and Peter walks out with it slowly, palm sized spider with fierce looking legs and fangs trapped between a tupperware container and a place mat. Disgusted, you stand as far away from him as you can while he crosses the street and lets it out into the tall grass. 

He shows you the plastic is empty before he jogs at you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. He rubs the top of your arm. "Better?" he asks. 

Being scared of spiders feels juvenile, but the fear remains regardless of the attitude toward it, and his actual sincere care makes you love him even more. It's always evident how much Peter loves you, but especially now.

"Thank you," you say, going on toes to kiss his cheek. Your sneakers squeak as you keep up with him, following him back into the house. 

"Anything else you want me to do?" he asks, presenting his cheek proudly. "I like the reward. You smell really nice right now, what is that?"

"The pink one you got me. Love and Sugar, or something." 

He lifts his chin, as if to say, Kiss? You press another to his cheek over the first. He deserves more than kisses, but it's what you have. 

"I'm glad you're not scared of me," he says. 

"You're not scary." 

He raises his brows, looking down at you with the tip of his tongue pressed behind his top teeth. "Yeah?" he asks. 

You kiss his bottom lip, uncaring of his open mouth. "Not scary at all," you murmur. 

"Suddenly, I'm okay with that." 

what’s this feeling in my stomach 🫢

hii my love i hope ur okay <3

uhhh Sunflower - drunken rambling about their adoration ; with tasm! peter if u want to bcos he’s my babygirl djfjjs <3

— ivy <3

@inkluvs i adore u and peter <3

sunflower: drunken rambling about their adoration, tasm!peter parker x reader, 0.9k

You didn’t even know Peter could get drunk, honestly. Something about a higher metabolism from the spider bite allowing him to burn off alcohol fast enough so that he never actually got drunk no matter how much he drank. 

That assumption was quickly struck down when you heard knocking at your window at almost one in the morning, right when you were about to go to bed. 

It wasn’t uncommon for your vigilante boyfriend to swing by your place after a night of patrolling, always telling you that he wanted you to be the lasting memory at the front of his mind before he fell asleep. In a world full of bad, you were the good, and that’s what he needed to remember. 

Sometimes he was so tired he even stayed the night, passing out curled around you with his face pressed against your neck. Those were the times when he disappeared early before you woke up in the morning, only leaving you a messily scribbled note telling you he’d see you later. You kept those notes in a box on your desk and looked at them whenever you missed Peter a little too much. 

This time, however, you were surprised to see that he wasn’t in his suit like he usually was, just sweatpants and a hoodie under that battered army green jacket he always wore, still crouched on your fire escape rapping his knuckles against the glass with the dopiest grin on his face. 

“Peter? What—what are you doing here? Where’s your suit, someone could’ve seen you!” You were hurling questions at him at a mile a minute, but he just blinked slowly, swaying on his feet a little bit. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you?” 

“I mean it.” 

“Are you drunk?” 

“What? No, I’m…maybe. Just a little. Like, this much.” He held his thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart, snickering. 

“Yeah, sure,” You snorted, helping him through the window so he didn’t topple over into the room. As soon as his feet were planted on the ground, he kissed you, slipping his hand around the back of your neck. Peter tasted a little bit like beer, but you didn’t really mind, not when he was kissing you this deeply. “What was that for?” You panted as soon as you pulled away, bracing your hands against his chest after his kiss had stolen the breath out of yours. 

“Because you’re pretty. Because I love you.” 

“How much have you had to drink?” 

“Not a lot.” 

“Here, drink some water.” You went to grab the water bottle from your bedside table, but a web stretched past you before you could reach it, hitting the metal with a thwip and whipping it back into Peter’s hand. 

He took a large swig from it, snickering when you gave him a pointed look. “I’m not drunk, see. I totally nailed that.” 

“You’re so cool, Pete.” You hummed idly, tugging him out of his jacket and tossing it off to the side, guiding him towards your bed. He stumbled over his own socked feet a few times, but you were there to steady him. 

“Have I told you how much—how much I love you?” He hiccupped, flopping onto the mattress with no real strength behind the movement. You made a noise of acknowledgement, busying yourself with getting Peter’s sneakers off instead. “I love you so much it hurts, right here,” He jabbed a finger against his chest, right above his heart, letting out a small ‘ow’ with the force of it. You stifled a laugh, plucking the glasses off his face and setting them down next to your alarm clock. “You’re so smart, and—and sweet, and kind and…pretty. Did I say pretty yet?” 

“Yeah, I think you might’ve mentioned it.” Your mouth quirked into a warm smile at his drunken rambling. Even drunk, Peter knew how to make you feel loved beyond words. You switched off the lamp beside you, shrouding the room in darkness. The only light was the moon outside, and it washed over the softened angles of Peter’s face almost angelically. 

“Oh. Really? I don’t remember that.” He frowned, scratching his cheek aimlessly. Then he shrugged, picking up the edge of your blanket and shoving his lanky self under it, shimmying around until he was satisfied with his comfort. “Anyways, we’re atoms.” 

You had to stifle a laugh at his blunt statement. “What?” 

“Y’know, like, atoms? How they’re…what’s the fucking word, what’s the—oh! Attract! How they’re just, like, super attracted to each other.” He held one hand up above him, then the other a few inches away. “If this hand is you, and this hand is me, we’re like atoms. Attracted to each other.” He smacked his hands together, linking his fingers through each other. “You’d be a pretty atom.” 

“Pete, atoms repel each other once they get close enough.” 

Peter’s mouth dropped onto shocked ‘oh’, eyes widening. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that you and—you and me, we’re meant to be together.” He turned his head to look at you, nearly going cross eyed at your close proximity. “Oh, hello! C’mere.” He pulled you into his arms without a second thought, tucking his chin over the top of your head and sighing contently. 

“I love you, you nerd,” You said softly, pressing a kiss against the hand closest to your face. When Peter didn’t respond after a few seconds, you furrowed your eyebrows, craning your neck to look up at him only to see that he’d already fallen fast asleep. You weren’t surprised, he’d been under a lot of stress lately and probably hadn’t been sleeping much because of it. 

All you could do was hope he’d sleep well here with you. 

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This + about you by the 1975= 👩‍🍳💋

a matter of time (tasm! peter parker) - series masterlist

summary: peter parker has barely gotten over losing you and getting dragged into another universe where you're still alive and kicking isn't about to help the case. thanks to an ultimatum from stephen strange, peter has just a matter of days to make you realise who he is and what you had, or he faces losing you all over again. he better get to work.

warnings; mentions of loss/death, swearing, no way home spoilers

lmk if u wanna be added to the tag list!

ONE: THE WORLD HAS TURNED AND LEFT ME HERE

TWO: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

THREE: WHAT'S LEFT OF THE WORLD IF YOU'RE NOT IN IT?

FOUR: TIL FOREVER FALLS APART

FIVE: WHEN WE COLLIDE

nothing on you.

pairings. tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

about. in which you find your lab partner in a strange place you’d never expect to find him in.

warnings. corny‼️

ricky rocks. short story 4 my best man because i didn’t want to think too hard into this

“you look like someone who could use some company.”

oh god, you sounded like a weirdo. or a hooker.

but despite that, he still looked and smiled at you, “look at you.” he almost grinned harder once he got a good look at you, taking notice that you weren’t exactly wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants he always saw you in—but rather a very revealing top and a mini skirt. “didn’t take my lab partner for someone who liked to party.”

“i might say the same thing about you, parker,” you smiled back, taking a seat next to him on the ratty old frat couch he sat on. “when i thought of you getting your rocks off, i thought you’d be in an actual room with rocks.”

“wow, i’m offended,” he squinted at you putting a hand against his chest as if to cover his wounded heart, but he stilled smiled. “i would have hoped you thought higher of me, y/l/n.”

“i don’t intend on offending you, peter,” you smiled with amusement, “i just would have thought you were better than this.” you motioned and referenced to the frat house that you both currently sat in with all the buff dudes bumping their heads as they watched another identical guy chug a beer.

it made him scoff and his head slightly tipped, “but it’s normal for you to stoop this low?”

you shrugged, “we all have our moments of weakness… me more than anyone.”

“oh, so you’re saying this is a weekly occurrence for you?” he quirked an eyebrow, really wanting to know the answer.

and you almost didn’t want to answer, cringing as your head slightly fell sideways in shame, “maybe.”

“oh, on,” he shook his head, “cheap beer? men who don’t know basic hygiene and are probably failing their math 1 class? that’s your type, isn’t it? that’s why you come here, to get some play from boys with pedophile staches and low iqs?”

you laughed maybe a little too loudly, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth as you stared at peter who’s brow arched higher, but still he smiled, loving every moment of your presences.

“i don’t stoop that low.”

“oh, good. we still have time to save you,” he sat up now, clasping your elbow and scooting closer to you, “i almost thought i’d have no chance with you.”

“really?” your cheeks burned and you almost felt shameful for leaning closer to him as his voice was now a whisper and comforting and warm and ready to swallow you whole.

“yeah,” he nodded his head, “compared to those big burley guys who live off pre-workout, i’m nothing.”

you giggled again, feeling woozy and even more drunk with his amusement that was just feeding you to the brim with bliss. it felt out of body, it didn’t feel real, but it was and you felt like a fool falling so fast for someone you barely knew.

“they got nothing on you, peter parker.”

**

you were completely lost with time, but all you knew was he was a really good kisser and that’s all that mattered right then and there as the two of you stumbled into your dorm room where you were soon consumed in pitch black. neither of you could find care for it as you still clung to him feverishly, kissing him with all you could as if on a timer.

you couldn’t help but laugh once his mouth pulled from yours and started pressing kissed against your neck while the two of you still absent mindedly attempted to find your bed. you tried your best to guide but failed—causing the both of you to trip over your own feet and fall to the ground.

you giggled through the pain as you were now squished beneath peter’s body. he groaned, laughing a little himself but he still winced, pushing himself off and to the side of you, “well, we tried.”

“we did.” you smiled, not finding the attempt a complete failure due to now being a lot more familiar with your lab partner.

“i’d say i was hoping things would go a lot more smoother but…” he traveled off, now looking to the side of your face, “i’m not completely disappointed.”

“nor am i,” you looked back,

“next week then?”

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