Tasm!peter X Reader - Tumblr Posts

will forever have a thing for tasm peter parker and i'm not even sorry about it

Hi! I'm so exited that you asked for request for tasm Peter Parker, the second I saw it all I could think of is him being like, assertive..does that make sense? I don't know he's just so sassy and lovely, and I believe whole heartedly that when it comes to people he cares about he can be very pushy with them.

So like I don't just like a scenario for you to build off of, like domestic assertiveness like making his s/o take breaks when they're over working themselves like gently but firmly "suggesting" they eat something or take a nap or go out side, get fresh air you know anything. This is just something for you to go off but I'd love anything you'd make. I hope you have a lovely day :)

a/n omg i hope i captured the vibe that you described bc it's just SO GOOD like so in character and cute,, he's just meant to be a bf

----

It's so much like clockwork that you don't even need to look up from your notebook to undo the latch of your fire escape. Which is a good thing, because the day has somehow managed to crawl by at a snail's pace and still slip through your fingers too quickly.

All of your homework has piled up through no fault of your own. At first, only two classes decided to share a deadline, but then another teacher assigned you an essay and another added a test on the math chapter you've understood the least. At first you thought you'd be able to push through and finish off most of your work today, giving you a decent amount of time to try to decode your calc. But now it's been hours and your eyelids are feeling heavy and you've just started a pre-test worksheet that you had forgotten about.

The now familiar groan of the fire escape being pulled open barely registers. Despite how hard you're trying to keep all your focus on the study guide, a warmth you've gotten much too used to roots itself in your stomach.

"Always unlocked." Peter's already pulled himself into your bedroom, the shift from the outside world to your room a transition he could complete with his eyes shut. "As Spider-Man, I should tell you not to for safety reasons, but it does make it easier when I'm tired."

Your eyes tear away from the page long enough to look at him. Peter's mask is already pulled up his face.

"I don't--you're tired?" You blink hard, trying to focus. "Was it..." The whole Spider-Man thing being so open is still relatively new to you. Peter's never made it feel like a particularly sore or easily triggering issue, but you know how much trust he's giving you by being this casual about it. And you're prone to worrying, to pushing and doting and wanting to wrap Peter in bubblewrap. "...Eventful?"

Peter frowns, leaning forward on the window sill. "That gets a reaction?"

You retrace your words, wondering if you've said something wrong or overly sappy. You can't find any mistakes. "What?"

He relaxes at the genuine confusion in your voice. He gives himself a second to really look at you, at the notebook on your lap. "Are you still doing homework?"

"Uh..." It's almost like the papers surrounding you are embarrassing. "Yeah, a lot of stuff's coming up." You let out a breath that doesn't exactly work as a laugh. "And I wanted to finish it early so I'd have time to ask Gwen to go over some calc stuff with me."

Peter stands slowly He's not used to this, to feeling unsure in your room or around you in general. Maybe you're trying to be passive aggressive. Did he forget something? Or stand you up or do something to upset you? He can't remember anything negative about any of your interactions, but that could just be his side of things. Maybe he's been taking advantage of you knowing his secret. It's easy to become less attentive when he can just fall back on blaming everything on Spider-Man.

"I know about calc." It feels small, almost shy.

"I know." You swallow, hoping to hide any insecurity in your voice. Peter's the most important person in your life and on days like this you don't feel like you deserve to even run in the same circles. All of the stuff you're struggling with comes naturally to him and on top of that he's a freaking superhero. Complaining about not getting math and school stress has to sound stupid and unimportant to someone who literally fights crime. "But I was going to see her tomorrow morning anyway, and it's just some basic stuff I want to make sure I get before the test on Friday."

You don't want his help. He tries not to take your reaction personally. Gwen's your friend just as much as he is and there a lot of reasons you could be waiting. Maybe you're frustrated and over trying to understand it today. Or maybe the way Gwen summarizes things makes more sense to you.

Peter stands, consciously telling himself to let it go. It's been awhile since the two of you have just gotten to peacefully co-exist. Okay, only awhile by your usual standards considering that he had hung out for awhile after school before his usual patrol. But that was mostly studying, and he misses you more than he can justify.

He picks up a notebook and a few papers scattered next to you, shuffling them neatly before sitting next to you.

"Peter."

"What?"

The amount of innocence pushed into the word forces you to look up. "I'm--" He's closer than you thought he'd be, staring at you with a partial pout. "I'm trying to do homework."

His hand shifts, pinky touching the side of your hand. "Take a break." Your head snaps up. "You've been doing it for way too long."

Your chin comes up a fraction of an inch. "Because I need to."

"You're going to burn yourself out." You want to listen, to at least pretend to be considering his opinion, but your tired and his tone is so contradicting. A touch of actual annoyance is in there, but it's undercut by an exasperated softness. Equal parts stress and a concern that'd better fit a parent correcting a child for their own good. It's too genuine and oddly nice. You smile. "I'm serious."

You recover quickly, forcing yourself to frown, "I know, but I'm seriously okay." You wish there was a way to physically prove it. "I just..." You wipe your eyes with the back of your palm, "I have to do this sometimes." Something about the way your voice softens tells him that you're not talking about just homework. "It's not always natural."

Peter turns too quickly, his knee bumping into yours. "Hey." He doesn't know where he's going with this. Doesn't know how to talk to you about these kinds of things without melting and fully exposing himself.

"You are so smart and-and good at so many things." The praise hits you straight in the chest, making warmth rush to your face. "But taking care of yourself isn't one of them."

You roll your eyes, finally finding it in yourself to look at him. "Which one of us messed up their hip two weeks ago and wouldn't go to the doctor?"

Peter sighs, "It was not messed up."

"It so was." You crane your neck to better glare at him. "You could barely walk."

He presses his lips together, fighting down a smile. "It was not that bad."

"I had to help you get to my bathroom." You keep your tone light, partially teasing, but it still doesn't feel that casual. That was the first time you had seen him that injured. It had turned your stomach so much you couldn't even overthink about how close the two of you were physically as you helped him.

That was almost your breaking point. You wanted to get him to a hospital. The two of you could have come up with some kind of story to justify the injuries that wouldn't have outed him as Spider-Man. But Peter practically begged you to let it go, to just patch him up like usual and let him crash in your room for the night. You wanted to push, but he had been so insistent and nice as he tried to comfort you. You caved. You always cave.

"I was--a little sore." The admission is reluctant. You tilt your head, eyebrows raising as if to say that you've made your point. "Not the same." He says it like that should take away from your feeling of victory, but it really doesn't. "I'm serious, you can't work yourself sick."

You let out a small sigh. If it was coming from anyone else, you'd be annoyed enough to tell them off. But this isn't anyone, it's Peter who's trying to mother hen you to death for no other reason than worry.

You reach for his arm, fingers gently squeezing just above his wrist. "I'm not sick." He turns his hand over. "It just--it's not always natural to me...and I have to make up the difference."

"Don't do that." Your pointer finger drags down the face of his palm. "You're too smart not to see it." Peter 's hand shifts into a fist, trapping your pointer finger. "And you're too smart to burn yourself out."

There's no way for you to get any response out, so you just stare at where your fingers tangle together. "I'm okay, I just need to keep my calc grade up."

He's close enough now that when he lets out a tired breath you can feel it against the side of your head. You can't remember moving closer. "And if you fall asleep in class or can't focus because you're exhausted."

"That doesn't--" You don't know what to say. That that doesn't count, that that kind of thing doesn't happen to you. You know that Peter's just trying to help, but you're not in the mood for reason and understanding. You just want to feel like you have it together the way everyone else seems to. "You get less sleep than me."

You push yourself further onto your bed, creating some needed space. The closer you are to Peter, the easier it is for you to melt. One inch too far and before you know it you're holding hands or his head is on your shoulder and your fingers are gently combing through his hair.

A part of it feels petulant and a little silly. He's your best friend, you don't know why you're starting a competition over whose worse at self care.

"Yeah," he admits easily, leaning back so that he can better look at you, "That's how I know it's hard." Peter shifts again, the movement has your notebook almost falling forward. "And I don't--" He sighs, eyes dropping down to the mess of papers between you. "I don't want that for you." The words are mumbled quietly, his attention focusing on organizing your notebooks and paper.

It's enough to get you to visibly soften. He's just looking out for you the way you want to look out for him. "I know, it's just--" You watch Peter tap his pile of your notes against his leg, straightening them out. "It all has to get done and I--I see everyone just getting it and doing all these other things and I'm barely holding on to the bare minimum."

Peter stops. "What?" He immediately sets down your notes in favor of reaching for your hand. "You can't--" He squeezes your fingers, more for his own sake than more. "Getting the grades you do isn't the bare minimum and you're--" Peter stops himself from gushing over how smart he thinks you are. "Is that why you don't want me to help you with calc?"

Spider-Man has made his life harder in a lot of ways, but he never thought it'd hurt his relationship with you. It's been a conscious choice. You're a priority.

Maybe he's been talking about it too much...coming off like he thinks he's that in important when in reality he just wants to impress you. Is that it? Have his attempts to seem cool and brave and like a guy worth your attention come off as ego?

"Is..." He isn't sure where to start. "Is this because of..." Peter can't bring himself to say it, so all he does is lift the hand still holding onto the mask.

"No," you blurt out a little too quickly, "I-I mean I don't think so, at least not fully." You sigh, embarrassed that this even needs to be a conversation. "It's that you're balancing that and your grades perfectly and Gwen's got her internship and one week of extra assignments is all it takes to throw me off. And it feels like I always need help with this stuff." You briefly squeeze your eyes shut, unsure how you even admitted that. "And now I'm officially terrible friend. I suck."

Peter pulls your intertwined hands forward, settling your fist on his knee. "No, you're not." You give him a look that says you don't buy a word of it. "You do so much, even if you don't see it." He drags his thumb across your knuckles. "You help me a lot."

You don't feel like you do. Peter's the one going out and taking the hits every night. The most you do is research certain local crimes and patch him up the best you can. That's nothing compared to everything he does for everyone. It's not a competition, but you definitely don't feel okay adding to his work load. "Peter--"

"I'm serious, do you think I could do everything I do without knowing that you're here?" Peter's expression blanks. Too much. Way too much. "And that--that you're ready to help clean me up and-and research all that--" He cuts himself off again. There is no good way to comfort you without accidentally admitting how much he cares. "Crime stuff."

Despite yourself, you smile, "Crime stuff?"

Instead of taking the bait and falling for your slight teasing, he holds onto his point. "You get what I mean." He lets go of his mask in order to squeeze your hand between both of his. "You're important and so smart, even if you're not always smart enough to see it."

Heat rushes to your face. "Okay." A reluctant retreat. Peter secretly indulges in his victory. "Help me with calc?"

"Okay," Peter agrees easily, "Tomorrow, though, because you need sleep."

You roll your eyes, "You are such a mom sometimes."

"You're the one that wants to get Spider-Man a jacket."

You let out a mock gasp. That suggestion had been a joke. Kind of. "First off, I was kidding." Eh. "And second, it gets cold in the winter and your suit's so thin."

Peter grins before taking his hands back. You frown a little at the loss of contact, but try to recover quickly. "Can I stay over?" He wraps his arms around himself, exaggerating the chill in the air by moving his hands up and down his arms. "Because it's so...cold?"

You fight down a laugh, reaching over for a pillow to hit him in the shoulder. Honestly, Peter's found some lame excuses to sleep over, but recently it's like he's not even trying. Which is perfectly okay with you--if he's tired, he's tired. And also, it's always kind of nice when Peter stays over. Nicer than it should be. "I should lock you out and let you freeze."

"Mhm," he hums, pushing himself to his feet, "Do I have any--"

You pick up your homework so that by the time he gets back from changing, Peter will have space to lay down. "Top drawer, I threw your sweatpants and some of your shirts in the laundry the other day, so they're good to go."

Peter lets himself smile once his back is into you. He can't remember ever giving the whole domestic thing much thought before he started crashing here kind of regularly. Your parents are rarely an issue, both of them have long commutes to work which means they're usually asleep by the time Peter can swing in and they leave for work in such a rush that if they do check on you before leaving, Peter only has to worry about hiding for a second, and his extra sense always warns him in time. They're a lot less likely to catch him bruised and injured than his aunt.

"You're perfect." The honestly of his words leaves his face hot. It's a good thing he's still not facing you.

You're still too busy organizing your school stuff for tomorrow morning to notice the way that sentimentality swells in his throat. "Mhm."

"I mean it," he pulls open the drawer, taking out what he needs to sleep, "You need to give yourself more credit or I'm going to do it for you."

Warmth begins to crawl up your chest. Why is your best friend the kindest, most understanding, overwhelmingly pretty person you've ever met? "That's the worst threat I've ever heard."

Peter shuts the drawer and turns towards your bedroom door. Your bathroom is just down a short hall, and as long as he's quiet, he won't get caught. "That's because it's not a threat."

You move to sit at the edge of your bed, "Oh, are you--" Asking if he needs any kind of patching up still feels awkward. You're not sure why...there's nothing even remotely feely about it even though it's overly touchy, even by your standards. "Did you get hurt at all, or--?"

"Oh," he shakes his head once, "No, I'm--" Peter knew you'd ask, you always do because he doesn't always love showing you the more tolerable bruises and cuts until you give him those soft, worried eyes. But he's actually fine tonight, which means that he didn't really have an excuse to stop by and sleepover. "I'm good tonight, just a little tired."

You nod, expression so casual Peter can't read much from it. Maybe you're so used to him crashing by now that you don't even need to think through the reasons. "Good. I like when you're safe."

Fondness tugs at Peter's chest. "I'm always safe."

You roll your eyes as he slips out the door. A few minutes later, Peter comes back. You're already laying in bed, beneath the covers, face only illuminated by your small, bedside lamp and cell phone screen.

"I know I said you need sleep..." You push yourself to sit up a little straighter. "But if you wanted to watch something for a little bit..."

He trails off, trying to push against the slight guilt of selfishness. Most nights when he stays over, Peter tries to time his arrival to give you two enough time to watch something on TV. The two of you usually fall asleep too quickly to care what's on, but it does make it easier to get close to you. If you guys watch TV first, he can find a window to hold your hand or pull an arm around your shoulder.

But you really do need sleep tonight.

"Yeah," you grin, "Sounds nice." You push yourself a little more to your side of the bed. "Just for a little." Both of you know that the TV will be on until whoever falls asleep first has drifted off. The one that's still awake will have to search the bed for a remote.

"Cool," Peter agrees, walking around your bed to turn the bedside lamp off, "Wanna watch the show from last time?"

You nod lazily before finding the remote. Peter gets into bed as you adjust the volume before opening the right streaming service. With a few clicks, your show is on. As the intro roles onto the screen, you drop your head onto Peter's shoulder.

"Hey," he whispers, knowing you're half asleep, "You can't let yourself get stressed out like that and not--" He trusts you so much, and he wants you to be able to feel the same way for him. "Not tell me about it, okay?" He finds your arm in the dark, fingers instinctually drawing patterns against the inside of your wrist. "Please?"

You try to sit up a little straighter, but all you actually do is just read your head more fully on him. "Okay." It's a fair request considering the way you bully him into admitting to every new cut and bruise, no matter how small. "I promise." He trails his nails down your arm, "I'd pinky promise, but I'm too tired."

Peter lets out a partial breath, amusement trying to disguise itself as annoyance. He moves his hand, taking his time to find your pinky. He bends his around yours. "Do you only keep me around to do things for you?"

Even though the joke is the complete opposite of everything he's just said, you still smile as you let out a mock gasp. "No, I keep you around 'cause you're pretty."

The teasing comment is worse than the kind of response you'd throw at him if you were more awake. He's suddenly glad he turned off your bedside lamp before laying down. "I'm pretty?"

A second passes and no response. Not even a hum of acknowledgement. Carefully, Peter leans forward and sees that your eyes are shut and your breathing has evened out.

Ok, question for my in-depth Spiderman fans (I’m just getting back into the fandom). Do they grow hair faster than normal people? I remember seeing the scene in the Tobey Maguire Spiderman movie where you see his body hair growing, and had a tarantula and I did an experiment, so I cut its like hair stuff off (I was an insane 4 year old) and a few days later I checked the spot and the hair grew back, almost the same height as the other parts of the hair. So is it the same for Spiderpeople? Like what if you shave for a date the next day and you wake up and it’s grown back!

I’m literally tweaking rn ☹️☹️

Alright, campers, day 274 w/o a btsv announcement…………

I really want this, like so badly. But I feel like after ATSV Gwen started getting really bad hate, so this could either go really well or really badly…

are we just not gonna talk about the fact that a spinoff movie with gwen as the main character is in the works?

No cause this is me with Spiderman, like I saw a kid the other day wearing a Spiderman hoodie and I freaked the fuck out.

Getting into an extremely popular and mainstream superhero was the best decision I've ever made because I truly get to see my guy everywhere. Just saw a batman birthday cake at the grocery store and my brain immediately got flooded by serotonin. I love it

Him.

I lowkey like how Peter kept doing dumb shit even after the whole "with great powers comes great responsibilities" because it's peak teenage behavior. Like he is genuinely trying but the lack of commons sense will get him in trouble you know?

People hate on her so much, even though the decisions she made were decided by Miguel. AND SHES LIKE 15!! It’s scary to disobey an adult, especially in a ‘society’ that she is in, she could’ve gotten kicked out. And that’s where she felt accepted, she didn’t wanna get kicked out.

Stop hating my baby Gwen 😡😡

The Things We Never Talk About

Synopsis: A health scare reveals to Peter the things she never talks about, and worse, the things she keeps hidden for fear of speaking them into being.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns); established relationship, angst, worry, fluff; Basically, if you’d like to suffer and then recover in 9k words, read this.

Warnings/Spoilers: health related concerns (spoiler warning: reproductive health is included), troubled family history, horrible mothers, mental illness, tragedies, mentions of other elements related to these issues. This is quite emotionally demanding, but ends on a positive note. Also, please note that the medical info in this is intentionally manipulated for the story’s convenience. For example, you cannot diagnose certain illnesses with a blood test, but one is used here. There aren’t any bogus claims or anything like that, but medical accuracy is sweked.

Words: 9.3K

————————————-

A half hour has passed since she received the call from Dr. Connely, and the same half hour has been spent staring at the wall farthest away from her work desk. No one has called her out for it yet, but then again, the office is mostly empty today. Few people choose to come in when the weather resembles the end times, but she happens to like torrential rain. It’s especially nice when you work on the first floor, rather than the 14th, but somehow not even the thundering of rain drops can distract her mind.

She doesn’t know what this means, for now or for the future.

She does, however, wish she hadn’t gone for that check-up. Yes, she would’ve been postponing the inevitable and embroiling both her and her partner in something entirely nebulous, but she just wishes she had more time.

Peter.

What kind of world is this, where at once you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and then a six minute phone call severs the branch from under your feet?

Maybe she should’ve suspected something, or at least been more cautious, given the state of things. Family history being what it is for her, the likelihood of this outcome was sadly not that low.

And now it proves devastating.

Going home weighs heavy on both heart and mind, and ten blocks away the pitter-patter on the umbrella has become too much, so she puts it away. Not even two blocks later, she’s soaked to the bone but successfully distracted, at least temporarily. She knows Peter’s arrival isn’t that far away, and in a moment of fear, she considers not going inside and just meandering about in the storm.

Weiterlesen

how talented could you get,,,i love pete n i love u ❣

"The I’m-Sorry-For-Being-a-Dick Bouquet"

TASM! Peter Parker

"Tighty Whiteys" Pt. 2

SUMMARY: Peter wholeheartedly regrets not coming back to Y/N's apartment and tries his best to stay away for her sake. She continues to think of him as her career begins to take off. Spiderman sees her during a battle and has to make a deal for her safety.

TW: cursin' n kissin' n shi (PG-13)

WORD COUNT: 4768

Peter laid on his bed, staring mindlessly at the noisy fan that clicked away above him as he tried to fall asleep. He’d probably watched it spin around hundreds or thousands of times every night, trying to rid his mind of her. She lingered in his every waking thought and visited during his dreams.

“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, rubbing his hands on his face in aggravation. “Okay, stupid multiverse-god-thing. Very funny. She’s the one, I get it! Just let me sleep..”

He found himself thinking of her eyes and the way they darted around aimlessly as she talked as if they were following her train of thought. He thought about her voice and the way it got raspy as the night progressed and her drowsiness with it. He accidentally caused a small explosion at the lab earlier in the day because his mind was on her. Her plump lips; the way they moved when she spoke or, god, when she smiled.

He flipped onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow with frustration.

He wanted nothing more than to wait for her to return to the apartment and take him to her favorite diner in the city on that day. He felt his heart sink when he felt the familiar tingle, knowing he’d have to leave her stranded to chase after his newest enemy. He didn’t have time to leave a note. He had a responsibility to protect the innocent; it normally came with the cost of hurting or losing someone he loved. As much as he hated to admit it, as bad as he wanted her, he needed to stay away.

But boy did he want her. His mind wouldn’t let him simply forget about the destiny written by the fates; the story of Spiderman and MJ, an inevitable romance that spanned through multiple universes, his being no exception. He wanted her to take him to the diner. He wanted to walk her home and kiss her sweetly before making plans for a second date. He wanted to fall for her. At times, he wanted to ignore his power and abandon his responsibility all in hopes of living a domestic and happy life with this woman.

But alas, the world didn’t stop turning for him; not in his darkest times, much less in the hopeful ones. Duty called. The Collector continued to wreak havoc on the city of New York, and Peter had no other option but to fight. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder how she reacted when she arrived home.

Little did he know that after her meeting, she’d gone through the effort of ordering two of her usual coffee for the man who had painted the everlasting, smitten grin on her lips. She had gone through her day with a coy smile, anticipating and craving his presence. She rushed home, opening her apartment door to be greeted by a soul-shattering silence.

No number, no address, no way to contact the perfect man she had woken up next to only a few hours prior. She’d searched every room, hoping the sinking feeling in her stomach would be replaced by the warm one she’d felt that same morning but there was nothing but her usual empty and silent apartment. Her smile faded and eyes blurred, left with no other option but to drink both coffees and move on with the day.

It had been almost two weeks now since their interaction. He’d seen her at the scenes of The Collector’s attacks, observing Spider-man’s every move and defending him mercilessly in her New York Times column; The Daily Herald. He’d make it a point to pick it up every morning on his way to work and read it on the train ride. Her words were piercing and revolutionary, changing the minds of thousands of citizens a day. It seemed that as time carried on, Peter noticed more and more pedestrians reading and talking about her articles.

He sighed, looking at the clock. Sleep now weighed heavily on his lids as his thoughts slowed to a single image; her. Y/N was engraved into his mind; he saw her vividly every time his eyes fluttered shut. And with that, he slowly drifted into a restless slumber, unaware that she laid under the same sky with the same striking memory replaying on a loop in her own mind.

———

The city had been quieter than usual; everyone hid away in the safety of their own home in fear of being caught in The Collector’s terrorizing paralysis. Tourists mostly steered clear of New York, and those who had the privilege of working from home rarely dared to leave their apartments. The attacks were more frequent and deadly. declining in morality at the villain's mind declined in its strange illness.

Y/N mindlessly stared at the pedestrians who rushed past the cafe window. She was meant to be writing the next day’s article. Though it was a seemingly impossible task with the endless daydreams and memories of the night spent with a perfect stranger. She’d never quite managed to rid her mind of him completely.

She rarely remembered her dreams yet couldn’t seem to forget the one she woke from that same morning. His warm brown eyes, his soft chuckle, the tint of his blushing cheeks, the shape of his lips, the way he said her name- it was all the same.

The beginnings of rain snapped her out of her thoughts. She smiled as it began to sprinkle the fast-paced crowd outside, watching as some children held their arms up and stuck their tongues out before being ushered off by their parents. For a split second, it felt like the same city again; bustling with life and noise. It felt like home again.

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash, and suddenly the sweet scene from just seconds before melted into disarray. The same kids she watched happily embrace the rain were now being pulled into buildings by their mothers. A crowd of people ran down the street in blind chaos, screaming so loud that the windows rattled.

“‘Scuse me! Comin’ through!” She heard someone yell before seeing the familiar red vigilante sprint past the window. He shot a web and launched himself forward, sending him out of sight.

The Collector, she thought as she closed her laptop and quickly stuffed it in her bag before running outside. She only caught a small glimpse of the battle before it moved out of sight, it seemed that the enemy kept developing new weapons; this time it was a motorcycle that sped effortlessly between crowds and buildings. She followed the screams and ran against the swarm of panicked pedestrians, paying little mind to the mayhem.

She kept seeing glimpses of red turn corners, missing the majority of the action. She sprinted at full speed at this point, knowing damn well the danger she was putting herself in but putting the thought aside for the opportunity to write about a first-hand Spiderman experience. The adrenaline kept her legs moving and thoughts silenced for a few more minutes before she finally slowed down.

She turned another corner, only to see a frozen congregation of people that looked like something from a River Styx painting. She stopped in her tracks, backing behind a wall before deciding on whether or not to proceed. Then she saw it; Spiderman holding the watch in his hand as The Collector yanked at the makeshift web cuffs on his wrists to no avail. The motorcycle was dangling to the building above.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” The older man chuckled, shooting his foe a bone-chilling grin. “This would’ve all been over by now if you killed me when you had the chance.”

“It could’ve been prevented if you would’ve just listened to me,” Spiderman spoke up, breathing heavily with anger and despair. “The cure wasn’t worth the madness. The old you would’ve preferred death over the man you’ve become.”

“Kill me,“ He purred, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Or I will personally see to your loved ones’ deaths. Starting with that old-“

A web suddenly covered his mouth. The Collector’s eyes widened before he squirmed around and screamed.

“What was that? Starting with who?” Spiderman asked, stepping closer to his muffled words and cupping his ear. “Just a little louder, man. I can’t quite understand you.”

He fumbled a bit with the watch for a moment as the wailing sirens grew closer. The silence burst into screams and the sounds of a stampede, civilians running every which way. Y/N could no longer hear the conversation but watched as Spiderman walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear, causing The Collector to fall still. She dared to step out from behind the wall, trying to hear what was being said.

It was no use trying to run against the roaring crowd. She felt people slam into her and shove her out of the way as she attempted to approach her targets. The sirens grew deafening as she halted to a stop, giving up any chance of getting close before the cops ushered her away.

The masked man looked to his left to see the cop cars begin to swarm in. That’s when he saw her. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the woman standing amid the paranoid mob that ran against her. He dared not look for too long, not wanting to give any hint of recognition.

“Well, that's my cue,” Spiderman nodded toward the cops before shooting a web up towards a nearby skyscraper. "I meant what I said. Behave."

“Wait!” Y/N stepped forward only to see him fly into the sky once again. “I-.. And you’re gone. Great.”

“Out of the way!” The cops called as they shoved people away from the man in web constraints.

“How many times have we told you that you can’t be at these scenes, Y/L/N?” A familiar cop barked, grabbing at her shoulders to pull her away. She turned to see that it was the chief of police, an old friend of her father’s. “It’s dangerous. You can get a quote later.”

“Chief Johnson, it’s part of-“

“Your job, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard your spiel before. It’s my job to clear the premises so get the fuck out of here!” He rolled his eyes, shoving her towards the cop cars. She looked back at The Collector as a cop recited his rights and cuffed him. “MJ! Go!”

“Fine! I’m gone,” She held up her hands defensively before turning on her heels. “Damn, who pissed in your fucking cereal this morning?”

“Don’t you have something better to write about?” He called after her. She stopped in her tracks. “He’s a menace to society!”

“He hasn’t killed anyone so what does that make you?” She asked, shrugging with her hands before turning to leave.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned the corner. She hated cops, but specifically the ones on Johnson’s crew. He used to be someone she was fond of until she found out about all of the injustice and corruption that he and his coworkers partook in.

“Fucking pig.”

———

After returning to the cafe, Y/N spent the next few hours writing and perfecting the article, making sure to explain the events that unfolded only hours before. She lost track of time, only leaving when the barista informed her that they’d be closing soon.

The streets were bustling with people celebrating the newfound freedom that came from The Collector’s imprisonment. She smiled at the lively crowds that gathered in the East Village, giggling at the people who decided to sport Spiderman masks. New York City was restored to its buoyant state.

She took the usual train home and walked a few blocks towards her apartment, opting to take a shortcut through the same alley she’d found Peter in.

The city’s sounds were muffled in the dark space; it was instead filled with the echo of her footsteps bouncing off of the dirty walls and rusty trash cans. She walked for a few minutes before realizing that she heard a second pair of footsteps behind hers. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed the silhouette of a familiar skintight bodysuit.

“You’re that Daily Herald journalist,” The voice from earlier spoke. “Y/L/N, right?”

“Depends,” She adjusted her backpack as she turned to face him. “Who’s asking?”

She heard a breathy chuckle before he walked into the light, showing off his brilliant red suit.

“Just figured I’d say thank you. Before your column, most people saw me as a threat. But tonight.. I’ve never seen so many-”

“Fans?” She suggested.

“Well, I was going to say Spidermen in one place,” He chuckled once more. “But I like the sound of fans a lot better.”

She smiled. “Well, it’s no problem. I’m just writing the truth. It’s part of the job.”

“Is it part of the job to follow me around too?” He questioned.

“Oh, that? No, that’s just for fun,” She deadpanned before laughing. The man chuckled. “So did you really go through the trouble of finding out where I live just to thank me and ask if I was following you around?”

“Actually no. My main purpose of coming out here was to tell you to be careful,” He continued, making her furrow her brows. “Look, I don’t want you getting hurt on my behalf. Stop following me, alright?”

“And lose my job? Pass. But I appreciate the concern,” She turned to leave before a web blocked her path.

“I’m serious. Just-.. Be more careful. There have been lesser-known journalists that have died for less. If I see you in the middle of a fight again, I’ll have to web you to a wall or something,” He said sternly, making her smile.

“Web me to a wall?! No, please, Spiderman! I promise to stop following you around!” She cried out sarcastically. “How was that?”

“How was the acting or comedic presentation?”

“Both.”

“It was god awful,” He answered nonchalantly, making her chuckle. “What do I have to do to get you to stop following me?”

“Meet me here every night and tell me about your battles.”

“No way,” He protested. “Do you have any idea how much danger I put you in just by visiting tonight?”

She narrowed her eyes in thought before pulling her backpack off of her shoulder and taking out a small business card.

“Email me then,” She said, holding out the card. He looked down at her hand. “I can’t afford to lose this job. So it’s either this or I keep following you around.”

“You want me to report back to you after every battle?” He grumbled, looking back at her. She raised her brows, waving the card. He hesitantly took it. “Even the nightly patrols?”

“You do nightly patrols?” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. But, yeah, that’d be ideal. If you can’t get around to it though, I’d settle for a weekly update.”

“Okay, deal,” He said after a brief moment of consideration. “You sure it won’t cause any tension between you and a boyfriend?”

“I’m sure he won’t mind, considering he’s nonexistent,” She smiled again before shrugging, choosing to ignore the inquisitive, flirtatious tone. “Currently too busy being caught up on someone I met once to fall for somebody new.”

Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat at the confession. She was talking about him. Not only that, but she rejected what she thought was another man because she liked him. He felt a hot blush graze his cheeks, grateful for the opportunity to be able to hide behind a mask as he heard that, and simply nodded.

“But I should probably get inside to finish up tomorrow’s story,” She continued. “If you could email me at least every Thursday so I have the weekend to work on an article, that’d be great.”

“Will do,” He said, not quite being able to wipe the smile off of his masked face as he watched her sling her backpack on again.

“Nice to finally meet you, Spidey,” She said before walking off, turning back to flash him that heart-melting smile before disappearing behind the corner. “I expect to hear about today’s fight!”

———

Peter smiled as he read the morning paper, reading a direct quote from the email he’d sent the previous night. He had to go to four different places to finally get The Times; the entirety of New York seemed to be carrying around, reading or talking about The Daily Herald.

“Hey, man,” His favorite coworker greeted as he walked into the laboratory’s downstairs cafeteria. “Ah, catching up on The Daily Herald, I see?”

“Hey. Yeah, me and everyone else it seems like,” Peter said, looking around at the people holding their phones or the paper, all reading or talking about the previous day’s events.

“Crazy fight, huh?” Caleb continued with a big grin, setting down his lunch and mimicking Spider-man’s web shooting stance. “I saw it in person! He was all Wa Pow and Ha Ya!”

“You didn’t see it, did you?”

“Not even a glimpse,” He smirked, taking his usual seat in front of him. “But that article was crazy, dude. Reading it made it feel like I was there. I think she even incorporated a Wa Pow in there and everything.”

“I see you didn’t skip out on your Adderall this morning,” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, fuck off,” Caleb laughed, before looking around at their coworkers in the cafeteria. “Feels like I stepped into some weird time portal. I don’t remember the last time I saw so many newspapers in one room.”

“Hey, I have a favor to ask,” Peter said, setting down the paper next to him and earning a hummed response from his friend. “You think you can cover for me for the rest of the day? There’s this girl that I really like and I found out that she-“

“If I say yes, will you spare me your love life details? I don’t need to know about another one of your casual hookups,” He sighed. Peter chuckled; he rarely ever had hookups. It was mostly an excuse to get out of work or other activities to go fight crime.

“It’s not a hookup, actually,” He corrected, making his friend’s jaw drop dramatically.

“You mean my horniest friend decided to put his trashy whore days behind him? Did you like suddenly become religious?” Caleb asked. “Oh my god… Are you dying?”

“What? No, I’m not dying,” Peter rolled his eyes. “Remember that girl I told you about? The one that patched me up after I got jumped?”

He might’ve stretched the truth a little on that too.

“Shut up. You’re actually gonna go back?” Grey leaned in, soaking in the gossip. “I knew you would! Yeah, I’ll cover for you. We’re waiting on a shipment so they’ll probably let us off early anyway.”

“Oh, dude, I owe you one!” Peter grinned before frantically gathering his things into his bag. “I could kiss you!”

Peter practically ran out of the building after he changed into his suit. He shot a web to a nearby skyscraper before launching himself into the air and heading towards the East Village. He stopped only a few blocks away from her building to change his clothes before walking up the familiar streets. He passed a small flower stand, leaving a twenty as he grabbed a set of purple flowers. “Keep the change!”

He finally made his way up to her apartment building, catching the door as someone exited and walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, stopping at the third apartment on the left.

This was it.

He took a deep breath, preparing something to say before he raised his hand up to her door to knock, only to be greeted with it flying open and a gasp.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Y/N yelped, holding her hand to her heart. She looked up at the man standing before her with a smile, holding the flowers up. Her features softly melted into an expression of amused disbelief. “.. Peter?”

“Hi,” He greeted softly.

“What are you doing here?” She furrowed her brows, a hint of a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “Wait- how’d you get up here?”

“Caught the door as someone was leaving,” He pointed behind him, looking into her Y/E/C eyes that danced back and forth between his own. “Can I come in?”

“I, uh.. Yeah, yeah, come in,” She stepped aside, granting him access. “I only have about twenty minutes though, I have to catch a meeting.”

“Yeah, okay,” He nodded, looking into her ever-moving eyes.

“So… did you come here for something or..?” She shifted her weight uncomfortably in the silence.

“Yeah, I just.. Y/N, I’m so sorry for leaving that day,” He began, making her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Look, I know you must think I’m a dick for the way I left. I feel like a dick for leaving you hanging without so much as an explanation. And I’ll gladly give you one if you want, but I just wanted to apologize. Oh, and these are for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” She laughed as he handed them to her, lifting them up to her nose and taking in their scent. “I love lavender. Thank you. Let me put them in water, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”

He smiled and nodded before she walked away. He felt a shift in the way she looked and spoke to him. Not that he blamed her for it, he’d probably have his walls up too after his little disappearing stunt, but it was kind of heartbreaking to see the once warm and present gaze now a little colder and more distant. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, hoping he didn’t fuck things up past repair.

He took in the apartment, noticing the guitar that now sat outside of its case. She got a new set of candles and a different couch, but everything else remained the same. The warm scent of vanilla wafted through the air and the posters hung happily in their places. He took a seat on the couch as she came back into the room with two glasses of water.

“Thanks,” He smiled at her graciousness. She looked at him as if she was skeptical it was all a dream; he looked at her as if he never wanted to wake up.

“It’s comfy, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, taking a seat next to him and putting down her glass on the sturdy coffee table before shifting to look at him.

“Yeah. I like the green,” He asked, looking down at the velvet couch. “Does this one get stuck too?”

“No, that’s kind of the point of a new couch,” She teased. “That’s more of a DIY project called ‘my friends are drunk idiots’. I donated that old thing.”

“Ah,” He smiled before looking up at her. “Bummer.”

She raised her brows, giggling slightly at his flirtatious comment before looking over his shoulder at the clock. Her face fell slightly as her eyes settled on his once again.

“What?” He asked, following her gaze. “You have to leave?”

“I should leave soon, yeah. I have this important meeting with my boss. I should probably get my stuff together,” She pursed her lips, placing a sympathetic hand on his wrist and getting up.

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded, hiding his disappointment as he stood up. “No problem. I can just-”

“Peter, can I ask you a question?” She blurted out, turning towards him.

“Yeah, of course,” He nodded, sensing the shift of tone.

“What changed?” Her own disappointment was on display now.

“What changed? What do you mean?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Why are you here?” She furrowed her brows, watching as he took a deep breath. “I mean it’s been two weeks. Why today?”

“Honestly? I-.. I can’t stop thinking about you,” He admitted, chuckling nervously. “And I’ve tried to stop but.. Y/N, you’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I can’t get the thought of you out of my head throughout the day either; wondering what you’re doing or if you’re staying safe. I pick up The Times every morning to read your column. Hell, I can barely sleep knowing that your apartment is only a few stops away from mine. I guess I realized that maybe the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about you is because I don’t wanna stop. I just had to see you again.”

She smiled at his sweet confession and his nervous demeanor. He moved his hands frantically as he spoke, running them through his hair when he stumbled on words, his voice gently and nervously pleading for her forgiveness. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” He responded softly, glancing down to her lips quickly before looking back into her eyes. He swore he could melt on the spot when she looked at him like that.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” She took a step forward, making him let out a breathy chuckle of relief and excitement.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Mhm,” She hummed slowly.

“And why’s that?” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes locked onto her upturned lips.

“I think you know why,” She said softly, feeling him place his hand on her left hip.

“Maybe,” He whispered, now only mere centimeters from her face. She felt his hot breath rhythmically hit her top lip. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

“I like you, Peter,” She breathed, biting her lip. His name has never sounded so sweet. He smiled and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before caressing her cheek. When his eyes made their way back to hers, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer; he leaned down and kissed her.

She was intoxicating. Her lips were softer than he imagined, and they moved in perfect harmony with his own, fitting flawlessly like the last piece of a puzzle. He felt her smile into the kiss before pulling him in closer to deepen it.

Never in his life had he felt a kiss like this one. The passion was electric, sending shock waves down his spine. He never believed in soulmates, not even after hearing the other Peter Parkers talk about their MJs, not even after he met his own. But this. This kiss, this moment, this woman; it all began to disprove his personal belief system.

He never believed in fate or destiny, but he wanted nothing more than for this, her, to be written in his future. It was no coincidence that in every realm of the universe, they were meant to find each other. He finally understood the gravitational pull she had on his mind; no matter how badly he fought against it, it was written in the stars. It was now beyond him.

“Mm, I really.. need to go,” She giggled in between kisses, only to be pulled back in by the delightfully dazed man she was entangled to. “Peter.. I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” He smiled dreamily as he pulled away. “Wait, one more.”

He leaned down and gently kissed her before they laughed against each other’s lips.

“What time are you free tonight?” He murmured, placing his forehead against her own.

“Well, unless Spiderman decides to get into some mischief, 7:00,” She smiled.

“I’ll personally see to it that he doesn’t,” He half-joked, making her chuckle as she pulled away to grab her purse. “Can I take you out to dinner?”

“Depends,” She smirked, opening her door. He followed behind her and walked towards the elevator. “Where were you thinking?”

“Either my favorite place or yours,” He responded as she pressed the button to go down. She smiled as he pulled her in by the hips. “What’re you up for? Chinese or that diner you were telling me about?”

“Chinese actually sounds heavenly,” She threw her head back in desire, making him laugh.

“Chinese it is,” He nodded as the elevator door opened. She hesitantly pulled away before he gently grabbed her wrist and guided her back into him, kissing her softly one final time. “I’ll be here at 7:00.”

“It’s a date,” She smiled before they walked out of the building and went their separate ways, smiling like idiots with a seemingly everlasting blush that lingered on their cheeks for the rest of the afternoon.

————

@zellieanne @lauraneedstochill @andrew-garfield-is-my-mj @celestialevie @captainbarness @musicconversedance @garfieldphobic @kdatthecastle @mitchloveswriting @sunsetswervedd @enigmaticsal @levylovegood @cosmistake @aubreylovesthegames @fruehlings-gefuehl @todaywasafairytale07 @darkbarbariancherryblossom @selftitledficconnoisseur @scarlettels @acciosiriusblack @mypalbuck @galacticstxrdust @beesunhinged @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @sirenphrynne

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.

————————

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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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YOU BELONG WITH ME | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: high school senior!tasm!peter parker x high school senior!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

SUMMARY: you can’t help but feel insecure when you realize your best friend peter and the most famous girl in the school are keeping a sweet secret from you.

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, awkwardness, jealousy, insecurities, self-loathing, reader is an overthinker and assumes things easily. let me know if i missed any warnings.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. angst with happy ending. dedicated to @joshiiieeenesx, thanks for supporting me and requesting this. i hope you’re having a great day!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS YBWM (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was Friday Night.

Your favorite day and time of the week because of your tradition with Peter to order pizza and watch a movie. Tonight was a bit different though, you both decided to order your least favorite flavor of pizza and watch the lowest-rated movie ever. 

Peter made a joke in the middle of the movie, causing you to laugh and cover your face with your hands. It was a habit you developed since you were a kid when a bully made fun of you for having an ‘ugly-laughing’ face. “Stop,” he chuckled as he captured your wrists with his hands. “Stop what?” you questioned unknowingly, allowing him to hold your wrists and pull them away from your face. You stared at him confusingly.

“Stop covering your face when you laugh,” he said. “I can’t see your pretty face.” Peter would always make little comments here and there about you, most of them being compliments. You ought not to make it serious since you’d always tell flirty jokes to each other, but you just can’t help but feel a little flutter in your stomach every time he would compliment you.

You tried covering the increasing redness of your cheeks with laughter. “I’m serious. Stop covering your face,” he told you. “What if I told you I’m doing it on purpose?” you thought of a quick funny remark.  “And why, may I ask, are you doing it on purpose?” he quirked an eyebrow. 

“Let’s just say, if you see my beautiful face when I’m laughing, you might just fall in love,” you joked, smirking at him. There was a tinge of the color red in his cheeks, but he was quick to hide it with a chuckle.

“Well, why don’t you let me see your beautiful face then let’s see if I really fall in love?” he remarked. Once again, you laughed because you didn’t know how to respond. Peter was laughing with you when his phone suddenly rang. He quickly stood up, covering the name of the caller with his hand before walking to a private secluded room in his house to answer it. You didn’t mind it. After all, everyone deserved privacy when they’re talking to someone on the phone. Besides, you were actually quite thankful because the phone call interrupted the growing awkwardness in the room. You paused the movie while Peter talked on the phone in the other room.

Minutes passed and you were getting bored of waiting for him. You decided to pull your phone from your jeans pocket and open the Instagram app for a bit. Your feed was pretty much full of your schoolmates that were either busy preparing for prom next friday or busy with the upcoming game on Monday. You scrolled mindlessly, double-tapping each post from your close friends when you stumbled upon a post from her.

Gwen Stacy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect body. The cheer captain, head of the planning committee, the smartest in school…well, not the smartest because that would be Peter…but still the smartest girl in school. Having all that, you’d think she was the type to be the typical mean girl, but no…she’s actually the nicest.

In the picture, she was smiling with the other cheerleaders, their teeth as white as snow and their faces as beautiful as barbie dolls even when they were sweating. Sometimes you just wonder if they ever had a bad hair day or they’re just perfect all the time.

“Please! Gwen, come on!” you heard Peter yell. Gwen? Why was he talking to Gwen Stacy?

“Really? Yes!” you heard him exclaim excitedly. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, the feeling was unwelcome because you knew he wasn’t even yours to begin with. But still, it hurt.

The next thing you heard was his footsteps nearing the door. You collected yourself immediately, greeting him with a smile as he opened the door.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, with the same fucking smile you fell in love with. He sat next to you on the couch, subtly putting his arm on the back just around where your head was resting. He grabbed the remote from your hand, but for a few seconds, you felt it linger when his hand touched yours.

He pressed the play button and you both continued to watch the movie.

“Okay, just so we’re clear. You think Peter and Gwen are dating?” your other friend, Mary Jane, iterated on the phone. It was Sunday night, the only time MJ had free time this week since she was also a cheerleader.

“Yes,” you answered clearly. “I heard them talking on the phone the other night. Peter seemed really happy and excited.”

“And what do you feel about that?” she asked.

“Uh–I don’t know?” you admitted.

“I call bull. Come on, I know you’re in love with Peter.”

“Okay. I do have feelings for him…but I don’t think he feels the same about me. He probably asked Gwen to be his prom date even though we promised we’d take each other to the event.”

“So you’re not going to prom anymore?”

“I mean I already have a dress so I guess I’ll still go. It just sucks that I’ll be going without him.”

“Since when did you get a dress?!” 

“Uhh…since last week?” 

“And you didn’t even tell me?” she made a sound of absolute shock. Knowing her, you knew she probably had her hand on her chest while making that sound. “I could’ve helped you pick.”

“It’s not a problem honestly. Besides, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Can you at least tell me the color?” she pleaded.

“Blue. Like the kind of blue in Spider-Man’s suit.”

“Weird way to describe a color. Is there a specific reason why you chose blue? I thought you never liked blue.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you but don’t tell anyone about this because I think Peter is kinda embarrassed about it…Peter is obsessed with Spider-Man. He’s such a huge fan of his–maybe even his number one fan. He even tried to hide it from me, but when I found a Spider-Man suit in his closet he just started getting really nervous and he only stopped when I told him it’s fine if he’s a fan. I’m not judging him, I think Spider-Man is really cool too,” you explained. “I was hoping he’d notice the color reference but now that he’s going with Gwen Stacy, I doubt he would even look at me.”

“You really think Peter would ignore you? Have you seen how that man looks at you?”

“He looks at everyone like that. It’s nothing special,” you denied.

“Listen, believe what you want to believe but I know Peter is definitely in love with you too. But if you did end up alone and out of place at the event, you’re welcome to sit with me.”

“Thanks, but you literally have a date. I don’t wanna be a third wheel,” you laughed. “I appreciate the thought though,” you exchanged goodbyes not long after that, wishing her good luck on their cheer performance.

You thought hard about what she said. Peter did become more clingy to you these last few months and he always made sure to text or call you every day. You guessed there really was a chance Peter shared the same feelings with you. 

Maybe he was just talking to Gwen as a friend.

You were at the gymnasium where you'd have to watch student-athletes pass the ball to each other, all having the same objective to shoot the ball in their respective goals. And when a member of a team claimed their shot, it would repeat all over again. 

You were never into sports. If you had a choice, you’d rather stay in bed and continue reading Looking For Alaska, but instead, you were stuck sitting on the bleachers while watching cheerleaders dance their routine in such a flawless manner. As much as you wanted to focus on MJ and support her, your eyes couldn’t help but look at Gwen. She really was mesmerizing.

You were too busy comparing her shiny legs and the way they moved with their short flowy skirts with your simple t-shirt and sneakers to even notice someone sitting beside you.

You continued watching Gwen dance, focusing on her pretty face and realizing that even in her sweaty condition she still kept dazzling everyone in the room with her beautiful smile. You noticed her wink in your direction. For a moment you thought she was winking at you, but when you followed the direction she was smiling at you noticed it was directed at someone beside you—Peter. 

Funny. You didn’t even know Peter was beside you.

“Hi?” you greeted, putting your best smile in front of him while your stomach ached from cruel jealousy.

“Hey,” he simply replied, before focusing on the phone he just got out of his pocket. He was busy texting someone. 

“So…you already have a suit for Friday?” you asked, trying to start a conversation. He shook his head. “Nope. But I plan on looking later today.”

“Cool. Do you want me to go with you? I don’t have anything to do after this,” you offered. 

He stopped and finally looked at you. You noticed how his eyes widened at your question and after mere seconds of looking at your eye, he looked away. He didn’t even need to open his mouth, his body language already told you that he already had someone he was going with.

You felt too sick to even hear his reply, immediately knowing the answer. You excused yourself, going straight to the bathroom to try to compose yourself and your body that was slowly starting to shake. You looked at yourself in the mirror, yelling inside your head to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. 

You and Peter were supposed to be inseparable. From childhood up until that moment earlier on the bleachers, you thought you would end up together.

All those years, you have convinced yourself you would be together and told the stars that he belonged with you.

But maybe he belonged with someone else.

And if you truly loved him, who were you to stop him from following his heart?

The moment you stepped inside the school tomorrow morning, Peter immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

If it was yesterday or the days before, you would’ve loved it and your stomach would’ve already been swarmed with butterflies. But today, all it felt was aching pain.

“Hey,” he kissed your cheek, a thing he always did whenever he saw you at school. “MJ told me you went home early yesterday because you weren’t feeling well. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve walked you home.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answered. It wasn’t fine, but how could you tell him he was the reason you couldn’t bear to stay at school yesterday?

“Well, I missed you. You got me really worried.”

And there it was again, the feeling of your heart jumping just from the words he said and how his voice spoke them. Was Gwen even okay with him putting his arm around your shoulder and walking with you in the hallways?

You did your best acting like everything was alright for the rest of today. Peter was busy texting Gwen for most of the time anyway, it wasn’t hard to convince him everything was fine.

Classes for Wednesday and Thursday were suspended to give way for prom preparations. You didn’t have much to do on Wednesday, so when MJ offered an idea to practice doing makeup and putting on the dresses to prepare for prom, you agreed.

You sat in your room in front of your vanity mirror while MJ did your makeup for you. She matched the eyeshadow with the color of your dress, and you must admit, she did amazing. Next was your hair, you requested it to be an updo, with the hairpins you picked out scattered attractively.

For a moment, you wondered what Peter could be doing right now. His house was just next to yours, his bedroom window facing yours and if you only pulled your curtains aside, you would see him through his window—if it wasn’t covered by his curtains.

Mary Jane snapped you back to reality by complimenting the details of the dress she just pulled out of your closet. “I need to see you in this dress now.”

You chuckled but complied nonetheless. With her help, you carefully put on the dark blue long dress. “Shit. This dress is made for you,” she complimented. It was true, you were indeed a vision. The dress hugged your body perfectly and the details were perfect to your liking. You never liked the color blue, but this dress got you second thinking. 

After putting on your heels, you checked yourself out in the mirror when MJ’s phone suddenly rang. “Peter? Hi,” she answered. As soon as she said his name, you turned around to face her.

“Are you okay?” MJ asked Peter. “You sound ill.”

“What’s happening?” you didn’t care anymore if Peter wasn’t talking to you. Something was wrong with him based on MJ’s reaction, and you were concerned.

“Oh my god.”

“MJ, what is it?” 

“Something is really wrong with him. I think we need to go to his hou–” she didn’t have the opportunity to finish her sentence when you immediately walked out of your room still in your dress and on your way to Peter’s house. MJ followed you but stayed outside Peter’s house. She smirked the moment you entered his house. Everything was going as planned.

Aunt May was thankfully on vacation somewhere, you couldn’t imagine her reaction if she saw you rushing towards her nephew’s room in a long dress and in heels. 

You carefully knocked on his bedroom door, announcing your presence. “Y/N?” he asked and you hummed in response. “I’m in here,” he answered from the next room. As far as you can remember, that room was an empty one. You weren’t sure why Peter was in there but in times of emergencies like this one, you didn’t care. “Can I open the door?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You did not expect what you saw.

The room was dark as a result of the windows being covered. On the floor were littered little candles with your favorite scent lit up to light the room in a romantic manner. There was an area left for you to walk leading to the middle of the room, which had a space just enough for two people. You also noticed the petals of roses scattered on the floor as a string version of your favorite song started playing. 

A figure emerged from the shadows—Peter. He offered his hand for you to take and only then when he led you to the middle did the fire from the candles revealed his outfit. He was wearing a suit that perfectly matched the color of your dress. You didn’t know how he knew the exact color of your dress, you would ask him that later.

You were both speechless, neither not knowing what to say. “Wow…” he breathed out. “How could a person look so beautiful? You are unreal.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look handsome too.”

He held your hand and guided it towards his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before holding each of your hands with both of his.

“Peter?” you started to say. “What–”

“You know I prepared a whole speech just for this moment,” he interrupted. “And then as soon as I saw you, I just forgot every single thing in the world because you’re the only one that matters.”

Tears were starting to gloss your eyes but before you could start crying from his sentiment, you asked him a question that has been vexing you for quite a while.

“What about Gwen?”

His face was quick to react to your question. His forehead scrunched up, looking at you as if to tell you if you could emphasize your question.

“I thought you were together. You were talking to each other pretty much the whole week. You were texting and calling each other, she was with you when you picked your suit, and then I saw her wink at you at the game.”

His face slowly dawned with realization. As soon as he realized what you were talking about, he couldn’t help but laugh. But upon seeing your worried face, he stopped laughing at once and looked straight into your eyes with absolute seriousness.

“Gwen and I are nothing more than just friends. We are not together. We’ve been talking to each other a lot because I asked her for help on how to surprise you. She also helped me pick the right suit so I wouldn’t embarrass myself with a lousy one. She winked at me at the game because she was excited that after the game ended, we would set up this surprise. And also because I was sitting next to you in the bleachers, she kinda saw me stare at you while you were busy watching the cheer routine. The wink was just her teasing and being excited. It doesn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s only you. I only want you.”

“Shit. So I really just overthought the whole situation,” you chuckled. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid. Don’t invalidate your feelings, It’s completely understandable. If I was you I’d think the same too.”

After a short moment of soft understanding silence, you felt him stiffen. His hands now held yours a little bit tighter. “Can I ask you a question?” he finally said.

“Let me guess, you want me to be your prom date?” you tried to ease the tension with the obvious question.

“Yes, and no.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want to take you to prom, yes. But that’s not the only thing I want. I want to take you on dates, I want to dance with you not just at events organized by the school, I want to buy you flowers, every day if I can; I want to watch scary movies with you and laugh when you’re too scared and you hide yourself with a pillow, I want to watch sad movies with you and bring you tissues and cuddle you the moment you cry, I want to watch romantic movies with you and cringe together when the characters do something embarrassing and wrap my arms around you when you blush at something sweet that they do. I want the tears, the pain, the frustration, the confusion, the sweetness, the laughter—everything. I want everything. With you.”

“Pete…”

“We’re seniors. Next year, we’re going to college. We will take on different paths and places, but before that even happens, I want you to be my place that’s never changing. And if you feel the same, I want to be your place that’s never changing too. You have been my best friend since we were kids, and I don’t want my memory of us to be just two people being friends since childhood,” he said before resting his forehead against yours. “I am in love with you, Y/N L/N. Would you be willing to enter a relationship that’s more than friends with me?”

Tears glossed over your eyes again, but this time, you let one fall. Peter was quick to wipe it with his hand. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I will not hold it against you. Tell me you don’t feel the same and I will not cross the line of being more than friends. Know that I will not force you into a relationship you do not want. Tell me if you don’t feel the same and I–”

“Yes,” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “The answer is yes. I am in love with you as well, Peter Parker. I have been for a long time.”

Peter smiled, now feeling his own tears try to escape his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. “May I dance with you?”

You chuckled but agreed, letting him guide you into position. Your forearms rested on his shoulders, your hands softly stroking the back of his neck while his hands were positioned at both sides of your waist. As the music still played in the background, you both started swaying.

“I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re gorgeous,” he commented. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Your suit even matched my dress,” you said back.

“I’ll have to thank MJ for that.”

“Wait–MJ is a part of this?” 

“Of course, she is. How’d you think I knew the color of your dress?”

You suddenly remembered the conversation you had with MJ when she asked you about the color of your dress. And then you also remembered that MJ was the reason why you were even inside Peter’s house right now in the first place. Peter called her and then she said that something was wrong with him and urged you to come here. Where was she even now anyways?

Peter laughed as he watched your face change from confusion to realization. “You know what–I’ll give it to y’all. You, Gwen, and MJ are good at this,” you admitted.

“The dressing up with our prom outfits and dancing was my idea though,” he spoke as he guided you into a spin. “I wanted our first dance to be private, not in a room filled with other students.”

You saw him glance at your lips for a moment before looking back into your eyes. “I also want to do this,” he said as he leaned in closer and met your lips with his.

You’ve imagined this moment ever since your heart started beating for him. But still, the feeling of his lips against yours for real was better than what you’d imagined it to be. The kiss was soft but intimate, neither of you having a need to rush into things but at the same time making up for lost time pining over each other silently. You wished you could kiss him forever and stay like this but you eventually needed to pull away to breathe.

“So, you really thought I was in love with Gwen?” he teased while you were catching your breath.

“Way to ruin the moment,” you chuckled, lightly punching his arm before nodding.

“Shit. I really made you jealous?” he seemed really proud of what he had done from the way he was smirking.

“Are you happy?” you jokingly asked, rolling your eyes with fake annoyance.

“Am I happy? Of course, I am. I just kissed you.”

You couldn’t find the words to reply as you blushed harder than you’d ever blushed before. Instead, you just laughed out of blissful happiness.

For the first time ever, he saw you laugh without covering your face and it was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He couldn’t help but kiss you again.

Needless to say, the future was exciting.

If only he could tell you that he was Spider-Man.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST:  @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan

once again i am in love with this man

Even on your Worst Days (tasm!PeterParker x Reader)

Summary: Maybe you were imagining things, but the hugs you gave Peter each night seemed to be getting longer. His hands seemed to linger on your waist, sometimes inching ever so slightly lower. Tonight, his lips had brushed the top of your head.

You told yourself it was nothing but gratitude. Nothing but the circumstance of two single people sharing 500 square feet.

Words: 3.9k

A/N: cursing, eviction, money problems; friends to roommates to lovers; making out; implied one-night stand; non-graphic/implied masturbation & nudity; canon-typical blood and injury; mentions of food & alcohol; no one knows how to talk about their feelings; idiots in love; fem!reader

Day One

You stood outside Peter’s apartment, confused. You were fairly certain this was his apartment, the one you’d been visiting for the past two years that was perpetually messy and never quite fully stocked with groceries. This was the apartment where you and Peter marathoned Lord of the Rings—extended editions—on New Year’s Day. It was where there was a large dark spot on the countertop from the time Peter had accidentally set down a pan from right inside the oven onto the laminate and it was where you had collected most of the hoodies that made up the majority of your wardrobe, courtesy of Peter’s closet. So, unless you’d somehow walked into an alternate universe, this was definitely Peter’s apartment.

Because of this, the glaring yellow eviction notice taped to the door made your stomach churn.

Then you noticed the padlock, which had been attached to the door and subsequently broken, and you sighed, pushing open the door and stepping into the dark apartment. It was despairingly empty and the sight made your breath catch in your throat.

“I’m the bedroom,” Peter’s voice called out from the tiny room at the back of the unit. You wondered how long it had been since his Spidey-senses picked up on you contemplating his front door, though you supposed it wasn’t his door anymore.

You crept into the bedroom, the one where you’d fallen asleep too many times to count, waiting for Spider-Man to return from patrol and turn into your best friend again. Peter was there, back pressed against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest.

You’d seen him beaten and bruised and bloody. But you’d never seen him look so broken before.

“What happened, Pete?” you asked, sinking down to the floor beside him.

Peter chuckled darkly. “It’s been a bad day.”

“Seems like it would take more than one bad day to end up at this,” you said quietly, gesturing helplessly around the empty room. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Day Four

You were always up early on Saturdays, your internal clock not quite able to break the habit that your cell phone alarm had ingrained into you over the course of the weekdays.

Rolling out of bed, you stretched and curled your toes into the warm carpet on your bedroom floor. There was sleep clinging to your lashes and you rubbed it away as you slipped into a sweatshirt and yoga shorts, debating if you wanted to force yourself to go on a run or take a bubble bath.

You opened your bedroom door, careful to stop it just before the hinges creaked in protest as they always did, and stood in the frame for a long moment, looking out into the living room.

Peter was asleep on your couch, his hair rumpled and his lips slightly parted. It had taken a lot of convincing and cajoling to get him to agree to stay with you, but you were glad for it because none of his other options were quite so bright and for as much as he didn’t want to worry you, he didn’t want to worry May even more.

You watched as Peter shifted in his sleep, his fingers flexing around the pillow he’d managed to salvage before all his stuff landed in the alleyway behind his old place.

In that moment you decided that neither a run nor a bubble bath would have your attention that morning. No, you were going to make pancakes. Blueberry, because they were Peter’s favourite.

Day Nine

You saw Mrs. Barton, the elderly woman who lived down the hall, in the mailroom that morning. You’d always been friendly with her, watching her cats when she went to visit her daughter and happily accepting the cookies she brought by your apartment when she was baking.

But today she stopped you as you flipped through junk mail and bills and the latest issue of National Geographic.

“Sweetie,” she cooed, “I met that dear boyfriend of yours yesterday. He was so nice, held the elevator for me and…”

“My b—?” You began to interrupt, but Mrs. Barton was not in the least deterred.

“And so handsome dear, good for you.” She patted your shoulder and gave you a little wink and then she was gone before you could correct her. There was a small part of you that felt a thrill, that liked the idea of Peter being mistaken for your boyfriend.

Day Twelve

Peter snapped a photo of you while you were reading. You looked up at the sound of the shutter clicking and raised an eyebrow. You’d long since grown used to the candid photos, but that didn’t stop you from teasing Peter about them.

“More material for my sp—” he began to deliver his usual response but you threw your book at him. He, of course, caught it deftly.

“Don’t you dare say it,” you said darkly. Peter laughed and tossed the book back at you.

Day Sixteen

“BOO!”

“Fucking hell!” You screamed, arms pushed out in front of you, hitting at your invisible attacker in the darkness. You heard Peter laughing uncontrollably and you groped for the light switch, flipping it on to see him doubled over in amusement.

“What the hell is wrong with you Parker?”

“You should have seen your face, Y/N,” Peter gasped, a look of mock horror written on his features as he tried his best to imitate you.

“We can’t all see in the dark,” you sassed, flicking him in the side of the head.

“I know,” he grinned devilishly, rubbing where your finger had nicked him, “One of the many perks of being me.”

Day Twenty-Four

Peter made you dinner that night. It had been a long day at work and the case you were putting together for your boss, to take down a known drug dealer targeting teenagers, was looking grimmer each day. You hated knowing that someone who had done something horrible would walk because they knew how to play the system, how to find guys to take the fall. You hated it so much, the injustice of it all.

“It’s not much,” Peter said as he brought two plates of spaghetti to the sofa, “But I made it with love.”

“Gross,” you muttered, sticking your tongue out at him playfully. Peter rolled his eyes and reached over to mess up your hair.

“Don’t lie,” he grinned, giving you a cheeky wink, “My love makes everything better.”

You nodded absently and when Peter asked what was wrong you unloaded, letting all your frustration out. He listened, quietly, intently.

Day Twenty-Five

The law firm was abuzz the next morning when you entered with your latte and your nose cold from the crisp air.

“Did you hear what happened?” Martin, the other clerk working on this case with you, asked. You shook your head and he shoved a newspaper in your face.

There, on the front page, was the bad man you’d told Peter about last night. Except he was all webbed up to the side of a building, evidence of his crimes splayed on the ground before him.

“Our Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man really came through,” Martin laughed at your expression, mistaking your wonder for disbelief instead of gratitude.

“He sure did,” you whispered, folding up the paper and tucking it into your bag.

Day Thirty

Peter had started to leave Post-It notes around the apartment, each with a terrible pun scrawled across it in his messy hand.

You found one stuck to the jar of peanut butter as you were making lunch.

I heard a rumour about peanut butter but I’d rather not spread it.

You smiled, eyes rolling as you put the jar back in the cupboard, Post-It still attached.

Day Thirty-Three

Maybe you were imagining things, but the hugs you gave Peter each night before you went into your bedroom, leaving him on the sofa, seemed to be getting longer.

His hands seemed to linger on your waist, sometimes inching ever so slightly lower.

Tonight, his lips had brushed the top of your head.

You told yourself it was nothing but gratitude. Nothing but the circumstance of two single people sharing 500 square feet.

You told yourself all of that even as your hands dipped below the sheets, as your fingers dipped below the elastic waist of your underwear.

In the living room, Peter pretended not to hear the sharp increase of your heart rate, the quiet hitch in your breath. He covered his head with his pillow and pretended not to wish it were his fingers making you writhe on your sheets.

Day Thirty-Four

Breakfast was awkward. Peter wouldn’t meet your eye, so you knew he’d heard you last night.

Fucking hell, you berated yourself, of course he did! He has super-human hearing.

You were so preoccupied in your own thoughts you missed the way Peter looked at you across the table, his tongue running absently over his lips.

Day Thirty-Nine

A loud crash on the fire escape made you drop the glass of wine you were about to indulge in and you cursed loudly, heart thundering in your chest as the glass shattered and white wine splashed up onto your legs.

Another curse escaped your lips as you stepped on a shard of broken glass, stumbling and hopping to the bedroom with blood gushing from your foot.

Peter was there, half in and half out of the window, his mask off and his hands shaking. His nose was bloody and his lip was split and he looked like he got the living shit beat out of him. Suddenly, the shard of glass impaled in your foot didn’t seem so bad.

When he was fully in the window, you could see that he'd been shot, grazed by a bullet on his left arm. It made you choke on a sob as you limped to the bathroom together, leaning on each other.

You helped him out of his suit and into the shower, the steam filling the room as you stripped down to your underwear and crawled into the shower beside him, both your backs against the cool ceramic tiles. Your blood mingled with his as it swirled down the drain.

When all was said and done you hugged him, kissed the top of his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked weakly, a strained smirk on his face.

“Being affectionate,” you whispered, still fighting back tears.

“Oh god,” Peter chuckled, but his grip around your waist tightened. “Then I must be dying.”

“Don’t joke,” you said softly. You shook your head and led him to your bed, despite his protests, tucking him in. And you fully intended to go back to the kitchen, to clean up the broken glass and then crash on the couch but Peter pulled you down and put his arm around you and then you were falling asleep next to your—your best friend, right?

Day Forty

It was a one-time thing.

Peter waking up and running a thumb over your cheek. You needily drawing yourself closer to him.

Peter kissing you, once, tentatively before taking your hooded eyes and bitten lip as an invitation to continue hungrily kissing your lips and jaw.

It was a one-time thing.

Breaking apart for air as Peter’s hands slipped up your camisole and your hands slipped down his pants.

It was a sloppy, short-lived one-time thing, interrupted by a sharp knocking on the door.

Mrs. Barton had made more cookies and was dropping them off. Peter answered the door and from your spot on the bed, trying to steady your heartbeat as you straightened your shirt, you heard her tut softly. “You look flushed, dear, are you running a fever?”

Day Forty-Three

“I was thinking we could get dinner sometime.”

You were midway through a conversation with Martin when the suggestion fell from his lips.

You took a minute to survey him, his lean frame and well-trimmed beard, his bright blue eyes and aquiline nose. He was handsome, smart, friendly, everything you’d ever imagined in a boyfriend. But he wasn’t—no. You stopped that thought before it had a chance to fully form.

“Oh, uh, yeah, cool! Let’s do that.”

Martin smiled at your accepting his offer and prattled on about the details, though you were only half-listening.

When you got home that evening, Peter was sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs back and forth. Queen’s greatest hits was playing on the living room speakers and Peter had a pad of paper on his lap, scribbling away furiously. He looked up as you walked in and tossed the pad aside.

“I’m thinking of adding eggs to our ramen tonight,” Peter laughed, “Spice things up a little bit.”

You looked at him, at this boy who was a frenetic ball of energy, whose hands tapped along the kitchen counter, whose head bobbed as he spoke and whose eyes searched your face, forehead creasing when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied, too quickly. Peter frowned, jumping from the counter and stepping closer to you, fingers poised to tickle. You shot him a warning glare and he wiggled his fingers impertinently, undeterred.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” you repeated, “I just need some air. I think eggs in the ramen sound great.”

You went out onto the fire escape and pulled out your phone, texting Martin: hey! something came up. can we do dinner another time?

You had no intention of there ever being another time but you’d never been one to dole out rejection head on.

Your screen lit up just a moment later and you read the incoming text: no problem, hope you’re okay! txt/call if you need anything

You gritted your teeth. What you needed, no one could provide except yourself. Some backbone, some courage, some absolute recklessness. You needed to tell Peter how you feel, but you also needed to not lose your best friend.

Day Fifty

“They cut my stipend.” Peter closed the door with more force than necessary, the framed art on the wall rattling slightly.

From your spot on the couch, your shoulders squared, mouth creasing into a deep frown. “What? They can’t do that!”

“They can. They did.” Peter let his messenger bag fall to the floor and stood completely still for a long moment, his hands clenched into tight fists. You wanted to scream, to stomp down to the university and smack some sense into the grants officer. Peter was doing good work, brilliant work—how could they?

You stood, hurrying to Peter’s side and wrapping your arms around him. He remained stiff in your hug and you frowned, wishing you could take all his sorrow away.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” you whispered, wanting him to fold into you, to lean on you. But he remained hard and distant until you let him go.

That night, when Peter returned from patrol—when Spider-Man crawled through your window—there were tears in his suit and you could see the dark scarlet stains of blood across his abdomen.

Again, you were on your feet in a moment, the routine of bringing him to the bathroom to be washed and patched up well-rehearsed by now.

“You can’t throw yourself around just because you had a bad day,” you said once you’d settled Peter into your bed, where he’d been spending the night more and more frequently. You were a little miffed at his carelessness and let it come through in your tone. Peter scoffed.

“It’s more than a bad day, Y/N!” He threw his arms up in frustration, hissing when the action irritated one of his wounds. After a pause, he continued, voice deflated. “I’m tired of feeling like a burden.”

“You’ll never be a burden, Peter. Not to me.”

He kissed you once on the lips, hard and passionate, pent up and frustrated. You sat, somewhat shocked, as he turned away and pulled the blankets up over his head.

Day Fifty-Eight

“I’m sorry about last night.”

When you woke up, eyes bleary, the first thing you saw was Peter’s face, his gaze soft and focused on you. His hand came up to run over your arm gently. You wondered if he was talking about his reckless behaviour or his kissing you.

“Don’t worry about it, Pete,” you said quietly, stifling a yawn. “How are you feeling?”

“Spider-Man can keep taking punches and get back up so I guess I can too.”

You smiled, knowing that was Peter’s way of telling you he’d be just fine.

Day Sixty-Six

You were seeing less of Peter since he’d picked up a new research position to make up for the cuts to his main funding. He looked tired when you did see him, dark circles growing under his eyes.

He started sleeping on the couch again, and you took this to mean that whatever might have been happening between the two of you was dead in the water.

You knew it was a shitty thing to do, but you texted Martin about dinner.

Day Sixty-Eight

Peter was eating Cheerios from the box when you walked in wearing the same clothes he’d seen you in yesterday. He gave you an appraising look and you shrugged, slightly embarrassed at having been caught.

No words were exchanged, though if you’d had a Spidey-sense, you might have heard the uptick in Peter’s pulse, seen the twitch of the vein in his neck, smelled the ooze of protectiveness that clung to his skin.

But, as you walked to the bathroom to shower, you noticed nothing, not even Peter’s darkened eyes boring a hole into your retreating figure.

Day Seventy

“I'm going to see a place tomorrow,” Peter said as you came out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel and wearing his plaid pyjama bottoms beneath your oversized NASA t-shirt.

He looked so happy and even though you could feel your heart sinking, you smiled. But Peter was a good actor and you were none the wiser.

“That’s awesome, Pete!”

“Want to come with me? See if it gets the Y/N stamp of approval?”

No, no, no.

“Yeah, for sure! I’ve got nothing but laundry to do tomorrow so please save me from that fresh hell.”

Day Seventy-One

On the subway ride back to your place, you felt like you’d been sucked into a dark tunnel of uncertainty. Beside you, Peter was prattling on about the apartment he’d taken you to see, his leg bouncing excitedly as he spoke. “I like it! Think I’ll sign the lease. Call the agent when we get back home.”

Your heart lurched at his use of the word home. Because he was right—home was no longer just your apartment. It was that space filled with him, with his citrus and cinnamon scent and his loud laugh and his snarky comments and his dedication to doing laundry because he knew you hated it and his moments of accidentally staring at you and falling asleep together and waking up together and—

“It seemed dark. And cold.” You spoke quietly, a soft shrug in your shoulders.

“You didn’t like it?” Peter asked.

You shook your head. “No. No I didn’t.”

Day Seventy-Four

“That’s the tenth apartment, Y/N!” Peter was exasperated as you both took the elevator back up to the apartment you’d come to think of as his as much as yours.

“I just don’t like them,” you said cooly, “I can’t explain it.”

“I think you can,” Peter said accusingly, arms crossing over his chest. “I think this isn’t about the apartments and it’s about…”

His voice trailed off and your eyes narrowed at him. “About what, Peter?”

He rolled his shoulders, tense and ready to spring, his tongue darting out to roll over his top teeth. Then you were pinned against the glass siding of the elevator, Peter’s arms on either side of your head and his knee wedging itself between your legs. His lips were an inch from yours and you sucked in a terse breath.

“Don’t,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were telling him not to do. Don’t kiss me? Don’t make me fall even more in love with you? Don’t leave me?

The ding of the elevator, the hiss of its doors opening, tore Peter away from you.

Back inside your apartment, you retreated to the bedroom. You heard the front door open and close and Peter was gone, though you weren’t sure where.

Day Seventy-Five

You were buried in paperwork, files strewn across your desk, when your cell phone sounded with that special ding reserved entirely for texts from Peter. You slipped the device from the pocket of your pants and lit up the screen.

Come down to the lobby? :) ;)

You were on your feet in a moment, wondering why Peter was visiting you at work. Sure, he met you for lunch some days, but it was only 10 in the morning. A coil of fear loosed itself in your stomach. What if he found a place? What if he’s moving out?

When you got down to the first floor of your office building, you immediately noticed Peter, not because he was the only person not dressed in a suit, but because of the comically large teddy bear he was holding. You couldn’t help but to laugh as your feet carried you toward him.

“Do I even want to ask?”

Peter grinned, reaching out an arm as you neared and snaking it around your waist. “I could have gone with flowers, but this makes more of a statement.”

“Oh?” you arched an eyebrow at him, not pulling away from the way he held you although people were starting to look. “A statement about what?”

“That I’m beary sorry I’ve been a roommate of the worst koal-ity and it’s been grizzly having to put up with me.”

“Dear god,” you giggled, “That was paws-itively unbearable.”

Peter laughed and, if possible, pulled you closer. His lips found the shell of your ear and pressed a soft kiss there. “I mean it, Y/N. My feelings for you have been all kinds of messy and I just—”

“Pete,” you cut him off, pressing a hand into his chest and curling your fingers into the hoodie he was wearing, “You were right though. That it’s not about the apartments. I, uh, I like living with you.”

“Even though I snore louder than you?”

You rolled your eyes, but nodded. “I like being with you, Peter.”

Day Eighty

You woke up to lips brushing against your cheek, a thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. As your eyes fluttered open, you saw Peter opposite you in bed, chest bare and hair rumpled from sleep. It was like deja vu, except this time you knew you’d be seeing the same thing over and over and over, for years to come.

“Good morning, roomie,” Peter grinned, kissing your forehead, where your brow furrowed.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“It depends,” he winked, “I could go with ladybug for a bit. And maybe one day I’ll change it up to wifey. But for now…”

“Shut up,” you murmured, wrapping an arm around Peter’s neck and pulling him close, pressing your lips to his.

Roomie, you thought, smiling into the kiss. Had it ever really been that simple?

Taglist: not added yet because Tumblr hates me. I wanted to post this even though my blog is broken/shadowbanned/something so whatever. If anyone manages to read it, I hope you love it. I'll reblog it later once this shit is solved & tag all you amazing friends.

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.”

This is an excellent beginning. Puns are the honey on my biscuit, let me tell you. Can't wait to read more!

Golden Hour

Pairing: Professor!Peter Parker x F!Reader

Summary: You are a graduate student working on your master's in journalism to get your dream job. Your adviser convinces you to take a beginner photography class to boost your resume, even though you swear you don't have an artistic bone in your body. Turns out, your professor, Peter Parker, is charming, patient, and handsome. Will something else develop in class besides film?

Warnings: Eventual highly inappropriate professor-student relationship, but no significant age gap, reader is already an established journalist looking to get her master's degree. Each chapter will have individual warnings. This chapter is pretty tame aside from some curse words and mention of wine consumption.

Author's Note: I have crawled out of my depression pit and I bring you this! Many thanks to @loveroftoomanyfandoms for beta reading! Divider by @firefly-graphics

Chapter One: Syllabus Day

“I have got to start using that gym membership,” you panted as you continued hauling yourself and your backpack up the second of four flights of stairs to your class. You weren’t sure what possessed you to sign up for an 8am class on the fourth floor of a building with only a freight elevator, but here you were regretting it. You finally reached your floor and took a moment at the top of the stairs to catch your breath before going to find your classroom. 

“At least today is syllabus day,” you thought as you took a seat towards the back of the classroom. 

Continue Reading on AO3

What happens when there's a little chemistry between two teachers but things don't go quite as planned? Sometimes a little brainpower helps. Read The Peace Treat-y (Comes With Sprinkles) by @delicate-dorothea for a fun read featuring Teacher!Peter (Peter Parker that is)!

The Peace Treat-y

Remember if you enjoy reading, to reblog so others can enjoy it too!

Today's Fic Rec is the absolutely cannot-stop-reading story by @webslingingslasher titled UNI. You've got to read it to believe it!

This ongoing story (link below) from the spider-man fandom features Frat!Peter aka Peter Parker and if you haven't heard of it, where have you been because it is the talk of campus and that was before the first frat party!

The university setting backdrop works perfectly for the entire cast of characters, each one unique, and Trouble aka You/Reader, the most unique of all.

The story is rolling out a chapter at a time, and it's already got humor, suspense, flirting, friendships, with a whole lot more to come. If you haven't given it a read, do so! Remember to REBLOG the story if you enjoy it so others can read it too! Reblogs are the fuel that keeps Tumblr content going!

Uni (master page link)

Every time Peter Parker sees you, he suffers the agony and the ecstasy of loving you so much without being able to tell you so. Such is the dilemma for Peter in this marvelous one shot story, Orbitational Pull, by @irndad that is today's Fic Rec.

This charming story has a happy ending, though, and the entire piece flows from Peter's perspective like a love poem. If you haven't read it yet, I encourage you to do so!

Orbitational Pull

...and as a Two-fer, I also recommend @irndad 's story Out Of Focus, Eye To Eye; another Peter Parker piece that is equal parts haunting and lovely with its expressions of longing and love.

Out Of Focus

Remember to reblog the stories you enjoy so that others may enjoy them too! Reblogs are the fuel that keeps Tumblr running.

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.