#peter parker writing
Note
starks daughter reader x peter parker, making out? like the avengers ask jarvis to show what’s happening in her room and they see what’s happening?
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w/c: 719
warnings: 18+, explicit language, implied smut
a/n: i made one little change so it’s friday instead of jarvis but everything else is the same so i hope you don’t mind and that you enjoy! also don’t forget to join my new taglist y’all mwah
“y/n…”
you’re kissing down peter’s neck, lips leaving goosebumps on his skin. he’s practically writhing underneath you, and you’ve hardly even done anything.
yet.
“y/n, baby.”
you grip the collar of peter’s shirt in both hands and bring your lips to the shell of his ear.
“yes, peter?”
“c’mon, we can’t. we’re… we’re gonna be late for dinner.”
“wouldn’t you rather eat me instead?”
your teeth sink into peter’s earlobe, a hand traveling down to the bottom of his shirt. peter throws his head back and closes his eyes, trying to resist you, but he can’t. you’re his weakness.
“fuck, y/n/n. don’t do this to me.”
“what, is there something else you want me to do to you?”
you start to pull peter’s shirt over his head, but he grabs both your hands in one of his.
“we’ve gotta go join the others. you know how important team dinners are to your dad.”
“and you know how much i despise them.”
“yeah, but i don’t understand why. i think they’re a sweet idea.”
“i think they suck.”
“how come?”
“steve makes the blandest food, thor has literally zero table manners, and everyone’s always asking me questions. way too many questions.”
“you mean trying to get to know you?”
“it’s the fucking worst.”
peter chuckles and pulls you in by your waist.
“you really are a stark.”
“am i? because the leader of the pack came up with this whole team dinner thing.”
“your dad just wants everyone to spend more time together.”
“well, i just wanna spend time with you.”
you peck peter’s lips. peter smiles and secures his arms around your waist.
“at least wanda’s cooking tonight. means the food will actually have some flavor.”
“yippee.”
peter lets out a breath.
“i’d be more than happy to eat you for dessert, but dinner first, okay?”
“or i could be your appetizer.”
your lips attack peter’s before he can respond. despite himself, he gives in this time, kissing back with just as much fervor.
-
“what’s taking them so long? the chicken paprikash is almost done.”
“looks delish, wanda. i’ve never had sokovian food before.”
“oh, thank you, scott. you’ll love it.”
“sure, sure. i bet i will. i just, y’know… it won’t be spicy, will it?”
sam elbows bucky’s arm.
“dude thinks paprika is spicy.”
“and i thought i was bad.”
scott frowns.
“what? it’s a spice, isn’t it?”
tony enters the dining room with a grin, rubbing his hands together.
“hey, gang. smells good in here, little red.”
“thanks, tony. i’m just about ready to serve it. we’re waiting on the kids.”
“oh? they’re still not down yet?”
“nope,” bruce sighs. “i saw them sneaking up to y/n’s room earlier,” natasha smirks. “dang, you didn’t have to rat them out,” sam remarks.
“like you wouldn’t do the same.”
“fair.”
“stop teasing, you two,” steve chastises. “no, no. this is true. i passed little stark and the spiderling on the stairs,” thor says.
tony glares at thor.
“so you all knew they were canoodling, and no one thought to tell me?”
“uh oh, drama,” scott whispers to wanda. “canoodling?” natasha snorts.
steve shoots them both looks.
“i’m sure they’re on their way down, tony.”
“yeah? let’s find out.”
tony double taps his glasses. his artificial intelligence comes to life.
“friday, show me y/n.”
“on it, boss.”
friday taps into her system that’s installed in your room and broadcasts the feed to tony’s glasses. he immediately regrets asking her to do so when he sees what you’re up to. yours and peter’s tongues are quite literally down each other’s throats, and peter is trying to take your bra off, but struggling to unhook it.
tony rips off his glasses and tosses them onto the dining room table. he shudders, shaking his head to rid his mind of the image. natasha puts on tony’s glasses to see for herself.
“yup. they’re canoodling, alright.”
“for real? this i’ve gotta see.”
“wait your turn, wilson.”
tony snatches his glasses back from natasha.
“absolutely not. no one will be taking turns watching my daughter and parker swap spit. have some class, will you?”
“yeah, have some class!” thor chimes in through a mouthful of bread wanda had put on the table.
wanda joins everyone with a serving plate of food.
“chicken paprikash, anyone?”
tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx
#peter parker#peter parker smut#peter parker fluff#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x stark!reader#peter parker x avenger!reader#peter parker writing#peter parker imagine#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland x you#marvel#mcu#tom holland writing
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do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx
'No location found'
pairing: peter parker x reader
a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!
warnings: none
masterlist, requests are open !!
“That’s not what I said!”
“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”
You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again.
You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him. The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.
“Y/N please-”
“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”
His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”
You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.
“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.
Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”
Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away.
“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion.
“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged.
'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”
“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.
He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad.
“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”
You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”
There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.
You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.
After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch.
Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.
I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it.
You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-
You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved.
You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.”
“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”
“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.
“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place.
“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her.
“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”
“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”
You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight.
You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already.
You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything.
“Peter! I need real criticism!”
“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”
You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book.
Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving.
He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though.
He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.
That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you.
He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together.
On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more.
He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter.
Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten.
He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge.
“Went out. Be home late.”
His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.
All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.
Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly.
He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe.
An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response.
It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird.
He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail.
What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.
This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-
He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay. He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start.
He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that.
“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away.
“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”
“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred.
“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay.
“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.
He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”
“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”
Peter let out a sigh of relief.
“Or, she was.” He held his breath again.
“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”
“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.
He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”
“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”
His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault.
“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated.
“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this.
He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.
There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you.
You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe.
You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit.
On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home.
Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away.
Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.
You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.
“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.
“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer.
Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”
“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”
“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little.
You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead.
“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”
“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face.
He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”
You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”
“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.
“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”
You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.
He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.
You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”
You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”
He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”
You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!”
“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again.
“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.
“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging.
#peter parker#writing#tom holland#andrew garfield#marvel#fanfic#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker x you#peter x you#peter parker imagines#peter parker angst#peter parker x reader#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker writing#avengers x reader#avengers#the avengers#tom holland!peter parker x reader#mcu!spiderman x reader#mcu!peter parker#mcu!peter parker x reader#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland angst#fanfiction#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter x reader
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Chicken Noodle Soup
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*
Summary: When you're feeling under the weather, Peter saves the day with some classic chicken noodle soup
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Reader is sick
Word Count: 0.7k
a/n: I'm feeling a little sick thus, this baby was born, wish I had a Peter to take care of me.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*
You felt like shit and probably looked like it, this sickness was kicking your ass, and no amount of medication helped; you just had to let it run its course; you've been tossing and turning in bed, a thin layer of sweat covering your body but you felt like you were freezing to death, your nose red and raw from the constant sneezing and blowing, you lost track of how much aspirins you'd taken for the killer headache you had since you first started getting sick, with the constant pounding everything seemed way too bright, currently sucking on some halls, to soothe the irritation in your throat, your cheeks hollow, you haven't had the energy to eat much, you've lost a few pounds, and it showed in your face.
"Add chicken and let simmer for 10 minutes," Peter repeated to himself; following May's instructions, Peter grabbed the cutting board and rinsed, placing it on the drying rack, opening the cabinet, grabbed a medium-sized bowl, and carefully poured it into the bowl, taste testing it making sure it was perfect. He delicately held the bowl and placed it onto the tray, accompanied by a glass of orange juice and some saltine crackers. He cautiously walked to your bedroom; you were sleeping, your face contorted in discomfort; even in sleep, you couldn't find peace; he quietly placed the tray on your nightstand.
"Y/N, wake up; it's time to eat," Peter whispered and gently shook you awake; you groaned softly and opened your eyes, landing on Peter's sweet face; you smiled lightly; it didn't matter how you felt you were always happy to see Peter, your eyes shifted to the tray and your smile broadened, Peter never failed to impressive you, he had always been so thoughtful and caring, you hadn't asked him to make food in the first place, he came up with it all on his own, it's how you knew his heart is in the right place, you'd kiss him right now if it weren't for your current state.
"What's this?" you asked, smiling brightly at him. You reached for the tray, but Peter beat you to it, lightly placing the tray on your lap, "You made this?" you croaked out; this cold hasn't been easy on your voice and throat.
"I made it for you," Peter smiled bashfully, lifting a spoonful to your mouth; you accepted it happily and groaned loudly. Peter's eyes widened, fearing the worst, but you snatched the spoon out of Peter's hand and spooned more soup into your mouth; groaning again, Peter let out a hardy laugh, watching as you practically inhaled the soup.
"Here, drink some juice," he smiled brightly, handing you the glass; you eagerly grabbed the glass, almost drinking the whole thing in one go. You had no idea you were this hungry, but you felt this soup warm up your soul. It was so good.
"Ahh, man, that's good," you sighed happily, "great job, Pete, it's perfect," you beamed and then returned to inhaling the soup.
"I also brought some medication to help you, some DayQuil and NyQuil, and some Pedialyte," Peter said, pulling a ray of medications out of the little care package he made for you, " I want you to rest. I don't want you to do anything; I'll be here if you need anything, okay?" Peter questioned; you nodded your head.
"When did you make this?" You quizzed, dipping a saltine cracker into the soup; Peter grinned.
"I made it at home with May and heated it up when I got here," he said matter of factly.
'Is all this from scratch?'
"Yes, it's from scratch, down to the noodles," he beamed.
"I had no idea you could cook so well," you say, impressed further. Peter laughs in shock, "Oh no, thank May, she basically made the whole thing; I just added the chicken when I got here and heated it up," Peter says, slightly embarrassed, rubbing his neck sheepishly; you laugh lightly.
"It's okay, Peter. I still love it, and thank Aunt May," you smiled. Peter leaned into your touch, caressing the hand holding him, and kissed the inside of your palm; you smiled bashfully; you grabbed the bowl and drank the rest of the broth, licking your lips, satisfied with your meal.
“Thank you, Pete, it was delicious,” you kissed his forehead; Peter grinned and held your hand.
“Okay, get some rest, baby,” he utters, lifting the tray from your lap and exiting the room; getting one last look in, you shift comfortably in your bed, sighing happily, already feeling ten times better.
#peter parker x fem#peter parker x y/n#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x fem!reader#tom holland#peter parker writing#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland imagine#marvel mcu#mcu!peter parker fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#jennys.work
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since your requests are opened... maybe peter parker having a polaroid camera (or a disposable camera) and constantly taking pictures of you both together and some of just you and then compiling it all for you for an occasion or after a fight 🥺🥺🥺 and iDK IT MAKES YOU FALL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN
this is adorable!! (also i'm back hehe)
send requests here! (now accepting stranger things characters!)
buy me a coffee! / request a commission
Peter had always loved photography. It had been a passion passed down from his father, then uncle, and now he held the camera in his hands, having captured memories over decades. He never had a reason to use it other than to fool around while on patrol, until he met you.
You were a work of art to him, something to admire, something to photograph occasionally. He had asked you out after you partnered with him for a photography assignment, a candid of you laughing caught by Peter with a note under that said "Will you be mine?"
Cheesy, you will admit, but you loved it. That was one of the things you loved about Peter, along with his photography skills, it was like having the ultimate significant other. He could capture your good side and compliment it, but also your 'bad side' (as you put it), and still be called beautiful because in his eyes you were.
There was never a time, whether you were on a date with Peter, in class or just studying at your apartment, he always had his camera with him. He never let you see the film or answered your question as to what he was photographing. He always just smiled and shrugged.
Sometimes you thought he was married to the camera, taking it everywhere with him, even if it was just a quick trip to the grocery store. And when it broke that one time he took it on patrol, you made sure to get him a replacement the very next day.
Both of you were calm together, loving and never getting into arguments. But when there was an occasional argument, it was important, and something the two of you had to address.
"Here's the thing, Peter, you can't just schedule a date with me and bail on me last minute. Yes, you may be a superhero, but you still have your life outside the suit."
"Look, babe, I swear it wasn't on purpose. I wasn't even going to bring the suit with me until my senses kicked in." he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, "I wanted to go out with you, I swear, time just got away from me."
"That's not the first time you've used that excuse. Peter, I'm getting sick of this. How are we going to make this work if I'm always going to be second in your life?"
"You are always first on my list, I promise. This is the last time, I promise it won't happen again. We can go again tomorrow, re-do our date, and go out together."
"I don't want a do-over, I wanted the date today. I'm done waiting, Peter. I need someone who wants to be with me no matter the circumstance. How can I be sure that's you?"
"Let me make it up to you, please. Baby, give me another chance."
Walking out of the apartment, your eyes burned, tears pooling and blurring your vision. Wiping away the stray ones, you headed on the bus, taking the route straight home, wanting nothing but to be alone.
Your keychain clinked with the pressure you placed on turning the key as you walked into your apartment, breathing in the comfort of your own home. Locking the door behind you, you made your way to your room, as you opened the door and gasped.
On your bed, and the floor, were countless polaroids, all spread out. Each of them is a different picture of you, some candids and some from a photoshoot, and others of you and Peter together. Tears brimmed your eyes as you picked one up and examined it, recognizing the date immediately before turning the polaroid to verify the date scribbled behind in your handwriting. March 15, 2016
It had been your first date with Peter, one you had actually asked him on as you didn't want to wait anymore for the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with the loving nerd in school. You were surprised when he said yes, and even more so when he still showed up at the diner, hair messy and panting like crazy, but he was there.
Picking up another polaroid, you noticed the handwriting on each of the polaroids, your pet names decorated the front trim of the picture. You had fallen for him because of his love of people and photography. He always told you never to look at the film and pocketed it before you were able to see it.
Yet, even with the argument you had with Peter earlier, nothing could stop you from forgiving him in a heartbeat, and maybe even falling for him just a little more.
#skyes writing#ambs writing#peter parker#peter parker blurb#peter parker fanfic#peter parker fic#peter parker x reader#peter parker writing#peter parker x female!reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x gender neutral!reader#marvel fics#marvel fanfictions#marvel#tom holland#tom holland fic#tom holland writing#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you
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new writingggg excerpt:
frat!mcu!peter x reader
“then why are you still in my house?” you wit, drying off your hands. without looking, you hear peter’s footsteps getting closer to you in the small kitchen.
“i thought we could test your little theory,” he whispers just over your shoulder and it gives you an odd, unwanted sensation down your spine. you turn your head slightly towards him, so you can see him from the corner of your eye.
“which theory? the one that proves how big of a dick you are?” your chest gets tighter with close proximity, but you still have your wits with you. peter puts his hands on the counter, blocking you from leaving.
you hear him chuckle darkly behind you, which causes you to turn around fully.
“you know what i’m talking about.”
#peter parker au#peter parker smut#peter parker imagine#peter parker x you#peter parker x reader#peter parker writing#mcu peter parker#peter parker fanfics#peter parker fanfiction#tom holland spiderman#tom holland peter parker#tom holland smut
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PAIRING: peter parker x fem!reader(could be gn!reader too I didn’t rly specify pronouns)
WARNINGS: peter being a lil douchy in the beginning, lil angst, unedited
WORD COUNT: 643 words
A/N: sooo hello again :) I haven’t written in a hot minute so this may suck lmao. also this was inspired by a prompt from this list!! anyway as always lmk if u have any feedback or requests :D that’s all!
GOING OUT ON PATROL and looking for crime was something very normal for Peter. He had been doing it since he was 15 and would most likely be doing it for a very long time. So it was safe to say it could get a little boring sometime. Peter would stop and sit on a random rooftop, sometimes preferring to look for crime from his bird's eye view rather than swinging throughout the city.
He was currently doing this, scanning the city for any trouble when he saw something that caught his eye. A slumped figure was slowly trudging down the sidewalk just below him. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. The lackluster hair? The terribly styled clothes? The overall foul aura? It had to be you.
Peter snickered diabolically and swung himself down to your level. He landed behind you and cockily straightened his posture.
A slightly evil grin overtook Peter’s face as ur snarled, “Y’know my sense we’re going really crazy and thought somethin’ terrible was going down here.” He then sighed dramatically. “Turns out it was just you.”
An awkward pause filled the air as Peter waited for your response. His grin faltered slightly. You buried your face in your hands and groaned loudly before spinning around to face Peter.
“Oh my god,” you laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe it! I was wrong-“
“I’m sorry, why is that surprising to you?”
“After everything that could have possibly gone wrong today, some how more could go wrong! You just had to show up! Y’just had to come and put the icing on the cake didn’t you?”
Peter’s expression soured into one of pure offense. “We’ll you’re grouchier than usual. What happened, your flying broomstick finally broke?”
“I know you’re obsessed with me or something but can you just leave me alone this one time?” You asked, your voice grating and filled with pure rage.
Peter ignored your comment. “Wait, something’s not right.” He gave you a quick once over. “Oh wow. You actually look kinda decent today. Well except for your makeup. It’s kinda smudged around your eyes. Like over here and here-“ he begins to motion with his hands.
“Yes I know that Peter!” You all but shout back at him.
The nice dress, the smudged makeup, your worse than usual mood suddenly connect the dots for him.
“Oh my god, you were stood up weren’t you. Were you stood up for a date?”
You groaned once again and harshly rubbed your face with your hands. Tears began to prick at the corner of your eyes as the humiliation you were feeling began creeping back up like bile in your throat.
“Yes I was stood up,” you mutter lowly, sniffling. “Go ahead, make fun of me. I know you’re going to.”
Peter’s mouth opened as he was about to say something truly insulting, but he stopped. He took in the sight of you. You looked like a kicked puppy, with your mascara and eyeliner smudged and your glossy tear filled eyes. You nervously picked at your nails as you awaited his taunts, already feeling embarrassed enough.
Something in Peter’s heart softened. He let out a deep sigh. “Y’know I may not like you very much, but I’m not heartless.
Your eyes flickered up to look at his face, holding much surprise in them. Peter grinned even though you couldn’t see it through the mask. “I know we have this whole thing going but I know getting stood up sucks.”
“What? Don’t look so astonished.” He admonished, putting his hand on his hips. I am your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man after all. It’s kinda my job to help damsels in distress,” he lilted, bowing slightly.
Surprising yourself and him, you let out a loud laugh at his theatrics.
A wide smile enveloped Peter’s face as he held our hand for you to take. “C’mon lemme take you home.”
Hope you enjoyed!
6.28.22
#electrosspidey’s writing#peter parker x you#peter parker angst#peter recs#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker#tom holland writing#peter parker writing#tom holland x you#tom holland angst#tom holland fic#tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fluff#tom holland imagine#tom holland
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me when the READER in the X READER has a name:
like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁
#bucky barnes x reader#peter parker x reader#bruce wayne x reader#din djarin x reader#steve harrington x reader#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#joel miller x reader#writing#fan fiction#fanfic#authors of tumblr#kurogxrix talks
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-Recording begins-
Spider-Man: Hi folks! I’d like to give a PSA to my usual villains, and anyone else with ideas for the next two months.
Spider-Man: *holds up a brick sized lump of metal* See this? It’s titanium!
Spider-Man: *starts flattening it out and shaping it*
Spider-Man: See, we all know that I’m crazy strong, but I never wanna really hurt anybody right? Right. While that hasn’t changed, something very important does right around this time of year.
Spider-Man: *pulls off a glove and pulls a chunk into a long stem with his nails carving lines for added texture*
Spider-Man: See, this is what we like to call exam season. Anybody who knows anything about college can tell you that it drives people up the wall, and I already climb mine when I’m antsy.
Spider-Man: *starts winding the thin sheet around the stem, delicately crimping petals in place*
Spider-Man: I do wanna be clear that this isn’t a threat, okay? I’m still not interested in crossing the line, which brings me to my point.
Spider-Man: *throws the titanium rose at the brick wall behind him, stem first, and embeds it all the way through*
Spider-Man: /That/ was restrained because I could focus enough to have full control. If I’m extremely tired or otherwise distracted, there’s just as much risk of me slipping up as someone operating heavy machinery. I’m probably not going to remember what sleep is for two whole months, so remember!
Spider-Man: *pulls out a brick and snaps it like a cookie*
Peter fucking Parker: Don’t.
#peter b parker#peter parker#ebony writes the thing#word girl#how tf did I forget to tag that smh#into the spider verse#also forgot to tag THAT ffs 🤦🏽#anyways. Miles and the other spider stumbled upon recordings of college!Peter B Parker. and uh.#this man is getting dragged across the multiverse lol. but he did in fact Ace his exams.
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spideypool but it's a comedy of errors
#peter parker#wade wilson#spider-man#deadpool#spideypool#peter is going to have a long hard look at himself in the mirror about his spidey sense not triggering#(you know what else is long and hard—)#wade: see that metro bus over there?#peter: yeah....#wade: i save. you film#peter: save it from wh—#wade pulling explosives out of his pockets: grab your camera babe we're on a time crunch here#who will write this for me#mine
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I am such a slut for Danny having supernatural strength and being able to kill someone with a single slap because he’s used to fighting ghosts who are built Sturdy (and literally can’t die, that is very helpful in a sparing partner) so he has to learn such meticulous control when he moves to Gotham where he starts regularly getting into scuffles with humans who think he’s an easy target (he looks like he has the sturdiness of a wet newspaper) and the whole time he’s more stressed about not drawing the Bats attention by being too good or accidentally killing someone so he has to walk that fine line of acting like a scrawny loser and dipping out at his first chance without being clocked as a meta.
Danny, laying on the ground and getting kicked repeatedly by a thug: *tries to angle himself so the guy can kick out a knot in his back*
Danny: *deadpan* oh, ow, stop that hurts, oof
Robin, watching from the rooftop and recognizing the dramatics from the Supers: father there is a meta
Batman, also watching and having flashbacks to Clark’s earlier days: *so so tired and already mentally getting the adoption paperwork ready*
#danny 🤝 peter parker 🤝 the supers#having such carefully maintained control at all times#sure danny is used to doing mundane things with his powers now but fights… his years of Ghost Brawls are really biting him in the ass here#the others learned how to fight (mostly) humans first and foremost so it’s now more natural for them to manage their power levels#danny is so worried about accidentally killing someone after every brawl with a ghost because the power level difference is so insane#he has to relearn how much force is acceptable after each all-out fight with a ghost#dpxdc#dpxdc drabble#dpxdc prompt#vee’s writing#vee’s prompts
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pairing: bf!peter x reader
synopsis: peter likes having you close to him. all the time
wc: 630 ish
a/n: surprise! another one oops. im rlly bored can u tell? cuddling prompt with peter. reader is a cheeky and annoying lil shit. one office reference. i saw a tiktok about this a long time ago and thought this would be a cute idea to write about. also does anyone know how cuddling works tho?? if ur laying on ur side, do u just lay on top of the arm ur crushing on? under a pillow? idk lol. anyways i hope u like :D
there's an ache settling in your right side that wakes you up from your sweet slumber. your head lays atop peter’s soft chest, his steady heartbeat against your ears. it was what lulled you to sleep in the first place. but with peter’s body practically being your own personal heater, the warm air filling the room, and the prominent soreness resting on your side, you began to feel uncomfortable.
“pete,” you whisper.
peter is entirely unfazed. his hold on you is strong. his face is towards you, mouth slightly ajar, letting out the softest of snores and drool out the corner of his mouth. although you love your cuddles with peter, you think he could actually suffocate you in your sleep. the boy loved to sleep, especially on top of you.
your limbs are tangled together. your left leg slung around his waist, arms around his torso, while his buff arms embrace your shoulders protectively.
ever so slightly, you begin to move your leg, retreating it back to your side as you push against his body and establish a more comfortable position. you snuggle further into peter as sleep wins you over once again.
it only lasts for a second when you wake from your boyfriend’s murmurs, he seems to talk in his sleep when he whispers your name. he huffs loudly and smacks his lips a couple of times with his brows furrowed. you feel his warm hand reach for the back of your knee to bring it over his crotch.
a confused look paints your face as you gaze up toward him. he’s asleep as dead. did he really just do that? you almost laugh out loud. his quirky behavior never fails to amuse you and has your stomach going in flips. he just wants you close to him. :(
but you think you’re funny, so you test out that theory one more time, this time blatantly stripping your leg away from him.
this gets a reaction out of peter. he seems to wake when he gusts an impatient breath, “no” and grabs your knee again, forcefully holding it against him.
in disbelief, you’re unable to contain your burst of laughter as you hold yourself up with one arm and stare at him wide-eyed, “what is wrong with you?”
“ph’shhh” peter knits his brows together, his eyes shut tight with a cute pout, as he blindly brings a hand to your face and gently shoves your head back against your pillow.
“peter-” “shut up.” he feels you lick the palm of his hand, “yuck,” but he doesn’t care to move it away from you. it’s only when you swat his hand away and settle back down against him to give him peace of mind. only for a moment, though. you have fun annoying peter, almost like a hobby. he’s halfway asleep when he feels you aggressively snatch your leg away from his hold.
“y/n!” peter groans, “stop it.” this time, your boyfriend pushes you on top of him, your entire body weight lays over his while he keeps a tight grasp on you, making sure to keep your leg over his waist and your head upon his chest.
his irritation riles you up, and you’re giggling through it all.
peter’s not having it though, not at all. he heaves another deep breath through his mouth, with the same grumpy look on his face, “why are you the way you are?”
you gasp, “me?!” “yes, you.”
not done yet, you flick his forehead, “you know, you’re so annoying sometimes, pete.”
he scoffs, “oh yea?”
“yea. a total pain in the-”
peter shoves his hand against your face and into his chest one last time, “ass.”
you decided you’ve had your fun but you’re too delighted to go back to sleep. too delighted to know that the boy you love and cherish always wants to be impossibly close to you all the time, conscious or not.
#m's clubhouse! 🎧#m writes ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#this was fun writing#enjoy#peter parker#peter parker x y/n#mcu!peter x reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#tom!peter parker x reader#tom!spiderman#peter parker x reader#peter x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman#spider-man#spiderman x reader#peter parker smut#peter parker blurb#peter parker oneshot#peter parker fic#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#tom holland peter parker#peter parker angst#peter parker writing#college peter parker
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peter parker in glasses owns my heart. can you write something about him in glasses and reader is all over him. (doesn’t have to be smut but can it be a little spicy?)
ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist
w/c: 699
warnings: 18+, a lil angst, explicit language, suggestive, and implied smut
a/n: oh absolutely! i had to use tom as my reference because his peter never wears glasses :/ also not to sound like a broken record but pls join my new taglist besties
peter’s lips twitch into a frown as he opens up his new glasses case. he picks the glasses up by their bridge and looks them over, debating whether or not to put them on.
he used to need glasses before he got his powers. the spider bite gave him perfect vision, so he stopped wearing them and hasn’t since. now that he’s older, though, his vision isn’t what it once was. he’s been straining his eyes all these years, squinting through the eyes of his spider-man mask and staring at computer screens for college assignments. it’s back to glasses he goes.
he’s not too upset that he has to wear them again. what he’s worried about is what you’ll think.
the thick, black frames peter wore as a kid were dorky and often got him teased. they were all he could afford, and it’s not like he’s rolling in the dough now either. the new pair he purchased is hardly an upgrade.
you didn’t know peter before he was spider-man. the two of you met and began dating in college, well after he got ripped, taller, and lost the glasses. if he starts wearing glasses again, what if you’re not attracted to him anymore? what if you see him as the nerd everyone else did?
there’s a knock at peter’s dorm door. it must be you. you two have a date later. peter inhales, a deep breath, and opens the door.
“hey, pete.”
“hi, baby. come in.”
you set a hand on peter’s cheek and greet him with a quick kiss, smiling. he smiles back and shuts the door behind you. you take a seat on his bed.
“are those your glasses?”
you point to the pair in peter’s hand.
he’d told you he needed them, but he didn’t tell you they were ready. he was hoping to avoid you seeing him in them for as long as he could.
“uh, yeah. i just picked them up.”
“put them on, i wanna see.”
“i dunno, y/n. i don’t know how they look on me. i haven’t tried them yet.”
“well, then now’s a good a time as any. put them on!”
peter’s face scrunches up, mouth opening to protest. you jut out your bottom lip.
“please? for me?”
as much as he wants to, he can’t say no to that.
“okay, but i warned you.”
peter unfolds the glasses by their hinges and slips them on, adjusting them so they’re behind his ears. he pushes them up on his nose by the bridge. he finally meets your eyes from across the room, teeth clenched nervously. you ogle him for a solid amount of time without blinking, mouth hanging open.
“are they that bad?”
peter starts to take his glasses off.
“no, leave them!”
“but i thought you didn’t like them.”
“are you kidding? i love them!”
you get up from peter’s bed and walk back over to him. peter’s features hold shock. your hands come to either side of his face, lips forming a grin.
“they look so good, pete. they really suit you. and they’re actually super sexy, too.”
“you think they’re sexy?”
“uh huh. they make you look all mature. feel like i should call you sir or something.”
“sir is good. but be honest, do you actually like them? because i think they’re kind of embarrassing.”
you leave a kiss on peter’s nose, just under his glasses.
“i like you with or without glasses, peter. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? not with me.”
peter cracks a smile and loops his arms around your middle.
“thank you. that made me feel way better.”
“of course.”
one of your hands moves down peter’s body, two fingers inching their way up to his chest.
“seriously, though. the glasses are turning me on. what time does your roommate get back?”
“not til late, why?”
“because.”
you beckon peter closer. he turns his head so you can whisper in his ear. his brows raise, grip on you tightening.
“oh… oh, shit. but i thought we were going out?”
“not anymore. we’re staying in.”
peter lowers his glasses. you push them back up.
“the glasses stay on when we fuck.”
tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda
#peter parker#peter parker smut#peter parker fluff#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker writing#peter parker imagine#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfiction#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland smut#tom holland writing
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Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?
fix you up
pairing: peter parker x reader
a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand
warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)
masterlist, requests are open !!
Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself.
You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable.
But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target.
It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying.
“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.
Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.
You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.
“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”
“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”
She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”
While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)
“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him.
“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further.
“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”
You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay.
There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you.
If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store.
She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.
“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment.
No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right.
Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”
You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”
Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”
“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”
You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not.
It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order.
You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.
“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”
You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore.
“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”
“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.
“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.”
You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”
You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready.
In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?
But you really didn’t want to find out.
So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand.
You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off.
Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”
You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good.
You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.
Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor.
You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in.
Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-
Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned.
He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain.
“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”
She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”
You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look.
He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom.
“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone.
“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.
Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks.
Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him.
You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him.
He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.
“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.
“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled.
“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”
“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know.
“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.
You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”
He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?
You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.
He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.
He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.
“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”
“Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.
“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”
You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”
“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.
“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.
“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly.
“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.
“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”
He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked.
You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”
He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”
“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”
Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”
You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order.
Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”
He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”
“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”
He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.
“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”
Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster.
“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward.
You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”
“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again.
“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”
“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”
“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-
“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”
“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”
“Freddy?” You asked confused.
He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”
“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”
He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”
Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”
He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”
You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”
You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you.
“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted.
“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”
He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”
“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.
The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner.
It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.
You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:
“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”
“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”
And he started to get the hang of it.
“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards.
When your work shift ended, you were actually upset.
“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon.
“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated.
“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”
You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward.
Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?
The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.
You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”
The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together.
“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked.
“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down.
He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”
You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.
“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air.
He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away.
You were not having a good day.
You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside.
You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”
The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it.
“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”
“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”
“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”
You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”
“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”
You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel.
You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”
You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes.
He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”
Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was.
You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed.
Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here.
You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it.
At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.
“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”
You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.
The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry.
You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes.
Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes.
It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends.
its very quaint 🤌
(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)
He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there.
dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces
im totally ready for this
ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!
what cat ??
good girl ;)
Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open.
“Hi,” he said, smiling at you.
“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him.
“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really.
There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster.
He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”
“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”
“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.
He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit.
You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back.
The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still.
Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.
He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”
“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”
“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe.
“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.
You nodded. “Alright.”
“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you.
“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet.
What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in.
There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ.
A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day.
And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.
“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier.
Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.
“You first,” he said slyly.
Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”
He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”
“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed.
This was gonna be a long night.
He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt.
After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”
That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”
You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”
Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching.
You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers.
“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice.
“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”
Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another.
“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again.
Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”
“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”
You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries.
Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down.
“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed.
“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek.
You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”
He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it.
You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose.
That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth.
“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it.
“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand.
He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him.
“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly.
He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand.
“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it.
“Yeah,” you nodded at him.
“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care.
“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately.
“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”
You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth.
He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”
You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”
He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop.
You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-
Shit.
A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time.
You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag.
Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself.
“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice.
“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands.
“Do what, angel?”
“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”
“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!
“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”
“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.
He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”
You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”
He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”
“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”
You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back.
He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.
“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”
He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them.
You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.
You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams.
You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first.
Or tried to, at least.
“We should-” kiss.
“You-” kiss.
“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.
“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other.
“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently.
“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.
“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement.
That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known.
“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”
True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side.
“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?
“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”
“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips.
“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.
“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly.
“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you.
“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”
“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.
You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door.
As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.
“Hm?”
“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.”
He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”
The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait.
You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil.
GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️
hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰
seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt
A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you.
After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you.
“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you.
“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin.
“No ‘Petey’?”
“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift.
“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”
You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world.
“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”
“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it.
“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away.
“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.
“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly.
He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”
Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again.
“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.
“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled.
“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”
“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time.
“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”
You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…
A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”
You were just on cloud nine today.
You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work.
And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help.
Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie.
Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place.
The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered.
It's Freddy.
You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”
He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”
You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name.
You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it.
“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”
“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it.
You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?
“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”
“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”
Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing.
“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now.
“Last year.”
“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless.
He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”
You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room.
“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed.
You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him.
After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text.
But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him.
You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking.
“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth.
He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker.
“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side.
“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries.
“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”
“I’ve had worse.”
You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”
“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”
You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod.
“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”
You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side.
“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand.
Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more.
“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again.
“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”
This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit.
He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”
You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one.
Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long.
“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit.
“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.
Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.
“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”
You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.
“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all.
You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”
“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him.
He returned it and you went back to work.
“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question.
“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”
“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again.
“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly.
“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again.
“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you.
“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.
“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of.
“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.
“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag.
“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them.
“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower.
Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”
“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand.
“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.
“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick).
You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”
“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were.
“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him.
“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you.
Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work.
Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-
“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake.
“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him.
“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you.
“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.
“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips.
He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him.
“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”
That got him to pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”
“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”
He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”
You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.
“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him.
He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you.
You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up.
“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were.
“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look.
You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.”
“Wait, he’s here right now?”
“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”
“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”
You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”
He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”
You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”
Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”
“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”
“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”
You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”
He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it.
“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.
You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story.
“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants.
Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him.
“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”
That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-
He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him.
“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him.
He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”
“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight.
“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”
“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”
“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach.
You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”
“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”
“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”
You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”
“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.
“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”
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Begin Again
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
Breakups suck.
That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?
Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.
You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips.
“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-”
“Why do you have a lighter?”
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“
The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.
A supercut of every moment.
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay.
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called.
“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?”
Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.
“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.”
You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..”
You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.”
You snort, “for breaking my heart?”
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.”
Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.
Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks.
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere.
You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.
“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?”
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.”
“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.”
Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?”
Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.
“Six weeks, starting today.”
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan.
“Six weeks.”
It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.
WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.
“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.”
“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”
“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.”
You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.
If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen.
“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?”
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.”
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there.
Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying.
You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face.
“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?”
“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.”
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call.
“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-”
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.
“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.”
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.
He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt.
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt.
“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.”
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.”
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.
“Sleepy?”
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.
“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?”
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.”
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.
“Make sure he gets home for me.”
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.
The birds were screaming the earth back awake.
At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable.
There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.
“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.”
“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.
“I think… I think I’m doing okay.”
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.”
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.
You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?”
“Noon thirty.”
Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself.
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.
“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.”
You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?”
“Have you ever-”
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.
“Who’s-”
“Did you-”
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.
“What do you want, penis?”
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies?
Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.
“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.”
Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.
“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-”
The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.”
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-”
“Is that Peter B. Parker?”
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.
The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.
“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.”
Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying.
“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.”
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.
“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!”
You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately.
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?”
You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.”
His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.”
You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite.
“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…”
Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.
“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.”
His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.”
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.”
It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.
Too bad you’re more guarded than ever.
“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.”
Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.
“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?”
Deny till death.
“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.”
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”
It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.”
Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.”
Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite.
“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?”
You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.
“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.”
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet.
“What if you talked to him?”
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?”
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet.
“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.”
You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it.
“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.”
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.
“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.”
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.
WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.
Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.
“Hey.”
You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change.
“How are you doing?”
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.
“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.”
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?”
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage.
“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around.
“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.”
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?”
You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.”
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!”
This was it.
This was your worst nightmare.
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.
“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.
“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?”
Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath.
“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.
It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out.
You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb.
“I, um, I still have those cookies?”
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much.
You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.
Tonight, you were full of surprises.
“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.”
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.
You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago.
You do a double take, five months?
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst.
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.
“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.”
While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.”
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.
“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.”
You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him.
“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle.
“Harder,” you test it.
“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.
“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.
“Harder, don’t be so weak!”
He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.
“Fucking!”
“Piece!”
“Of!”
“Shit!”
You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?”
You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.”
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter.
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.
“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.”
Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.”
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.”
You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.
“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more.
“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’”
There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much.
“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.
“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?”
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.
Still, you find yourself agreeing.
“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.”
It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.
“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.
“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.”
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’.
“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.
You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.
“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.
For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great.
WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.
“Let’s fuck some shit up.”
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?”
You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer.
It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.
“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.
May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.
“Hi, May. Is Peter home?”
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.
“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.”
You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves.
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.
“Uh huh.”
“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”
Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.”
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.
“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.”
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.”
The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.
“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!”
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.
You don’t think you could ever love again.
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not.
“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.
“I’m sure.” Because, you really are.
Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did.
It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt.
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.”
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.
For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s.
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”
You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.
“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.
“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.”
Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.
“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.
You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.”
You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.”
Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.”
Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.
He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.
“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.”
Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.”
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less.
“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.
He would send you things he found funny.
Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny.
“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.
‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.”
“Have fun on the trip!”
A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
“Hi.”
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.
“Okay, okay, so what did she say?”
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.
Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.”
You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.”
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.
“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.
“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.
“Is that a good thing?”
You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.
“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step.
“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement.
“And very nice curls.”
“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.”
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought.
“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.”
You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.
“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.
“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started.
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.
“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?
It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.
You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do.
You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him.
You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner.
In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right.
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.
“Oh, wow!”
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!
“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?”
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!”
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.
“Are you gonna hide from me forever?”
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.”
He’s perfect.
“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.”
May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.
“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.
“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.
“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.”
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.”
“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner.
“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.
“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?
“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.”
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself.
“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.”
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.
Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk.
You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t.
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.
“Butter, please?”
You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.
“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard.
“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.”
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.”
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human.
“Oh? I thought after-”
Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.”
May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks.
“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.”
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.
“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?”
You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable.
“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.”
May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.”
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?”
A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.”
“Scars don’t.”
Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?”
May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.
“They do.”
WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.
You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?
“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?”
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.”
Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.”
“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him.
“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.”
You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?”
“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.
“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.
“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.”
A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.
“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation.
“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.”
You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.”
“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy.
“You’re in denial.”
Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.”
You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?
Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.”
Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks.
How long has he liked you?
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.
“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.”
“But was it worth it?”
Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?”
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?”
You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever.
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble.
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same.
“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer.
“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown.
“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.”
“Can’t is a funny word choice.”
“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.”
Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.”
You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that.
“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.
“Break up with me.”
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?”
“You said I don��t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.
“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.”
“No.”
“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.”
“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation?
You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”
“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not.
A laugh, “then break up with me.”
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.”
Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.”
Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.”
It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.”
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe.
“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.
You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.”
Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.”
You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.”
A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.”
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.
“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”
You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself.
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again.
“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.
This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s.
It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it?
It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.
It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more?
Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t.
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.
It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power.
Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you.
If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.
When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.
“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you.
You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?”
Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.
“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.
Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one.
“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him.
“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out.
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.
“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.
“Do you see where I’m sitting?”
Peter nods, “I do.”
Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.”
You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?
“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit.
“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this?
“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it.
“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind.
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”
“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.”
He has a very fair point.
“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.”
You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want?
“How do you know I don’t want this?”
“Because this isn’t you.”
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.”
“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.”
Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.
“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?
“You mean when you had a boyfriend?”
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?”
Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.
“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?”
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him.
You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls.
“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too?
“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.
“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.”
Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks.
“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.”
Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful.
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?
Would it feel like an agonizing death?
Would your wings ever be patchable again?
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?
It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry.
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t.
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it.
“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.”
Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading.
It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.
You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.
It’s Peter’s fault.
“Because you made me want to.”
WEEK FIVE.
It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.
“Good morning.”
You nod your head, “penis.”
And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed.
You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks.
It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works.
3:02, you hear his window.
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.
3:07, you’re dozing off.
3:10, you’re asleep.
It wasn’t fair.
Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.
If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked.
“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.”
Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands.
He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed.
“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
“Peter.” You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.
Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.
“Oh, good. You’re up.”
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.
“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.”
“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.
“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.
“You passed out on me last night.”
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.”
You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?”
“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?”
“I think another water and some advil might kill me.”
“Perfect, coming right up.”
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.”
Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.”
Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.
“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.
“Does it hurt?”
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.”
You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart.
“Guess we’re twinsies now.”
If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.
“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.
“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.
“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing.
“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth.
“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.
“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him.
“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.”
It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.
“Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”
“Sure. Go shopping for me.”
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.
Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.
It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress.
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.
“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down.
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.
“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.
“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree.
“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.”
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t.
“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.”
“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good.
He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man.
“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.
“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man.
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”
Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.
You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk.
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss.
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”
There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.
“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much.
“No.”
He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.
“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.
Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.
“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you.
“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?”
You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?”
“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.
“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him.
“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.
“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.”
“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.”
And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it.
“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.”
No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated.
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening.
WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.”
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.
You think you broke him.
“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.
“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore.
“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.”
She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”
“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.”
Well, when she puts it like that…
“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did.
“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.”
“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.”
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.”
You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.”
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.
Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too.
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.
When he stumbled up the steps.
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses.
When he was tackled in flag football.
When he tripped over his shoelace.
When he got glue in his hair.
When he winced while dissecting a frog.
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.
“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying.
It’s worth it.
“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.”
Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.
Step two: See above.
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do.
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly.
“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.”
“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?”
May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it.
“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay.
A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.”
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.
Is this an asshole move? Yes.
Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly.
Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that.
“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?”
You hear something drop inside his apartment.
“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?”
A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.”
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.”
There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it.
“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.
“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.”
You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-”
“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it.
But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet.
“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?”
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.
“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.”
“Did you just call me a normy?”
“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.”
There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it.
But it’s all in the timing.
“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.”
“Miserable? What, about the breakup?”
“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference.
You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him.
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.
You’re in love with Peter and only Peter.
“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.”
Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no.
“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him.
Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.
You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.
But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.
“Do you still like me?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-”
“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.
“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.”
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.
“Can you call me sweetheart?”
“Is that the one you like?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
It’s so much sweeter than you imagined.
You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting.
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone.
Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company.
Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.
“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo.
“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?
But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.
You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter.
May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.
Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.”
“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.
“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.”
“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think.
“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn.
Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last.
“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.”
May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?”
“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.”
Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet.
“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.
“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.”
“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.”
“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.”
Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.
“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.
“You said I was never properly loved.”
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-”
“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.”
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-”
“If you’d be my boyfriend.”
You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever.
“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!”
“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.”
“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.”
It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.
“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-”
“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand.
“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.”
Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either.
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.
‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.
Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies.
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.
After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.
“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.”
A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-”
“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.”
“I don’t hate you anymore.”
“Spoiler alert, you never did.”
You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.
“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?”
“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.”
“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.”
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.
And you watched love begin again.
“Anything for you, girlfriend.”
----
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tasm who got sprayed with an aphrodisiac, so he goes to his roommate and fucks her well into the morning 🤭🤭🤭
A/N this deviated a bit but i needed to spread the munch agenda…hope you can forgive me friend…..
peter enters the apartment like a hurricane, his shaking body and heaving breaths impossible to ignore.
“peter?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. “what’s wrong?”
he doesn’t answer at first as he looks at you. of course you’d be wearing tiny pajama shorts right now, when he has no control of where his eyes land. he’s trying hard to catch his breath, his hands clenching into fists. he brushes the hair curled with sweat off his forehead and forces himself to look you in the eyes, raising his head higher. he anchors himself on your kitchen counter behind him. “aphrodisiac.” he breathed. “came home for my research.” he gulped, pushing himself to his bedroom, still evidently woozy. “gotta be an antidote.” he started to sway to the side, and you moved on instinct for him to fall in your arms.
“easy.” you drawled, arms shaking with his weight. you’ve never seen him in this state before. “where’s the antidote? do we have it?” you try to keep your voice level, but the urgency escapes your tongue in droves.
he shakes his head, looking up at you. his brown eyes have been blown even darker, the pupil completely swallowing his irises. “lab. somewhere. gotta go.” he pushes off of you, but you grab his shaking hand.
“there is no way in hell i’m letting you leave here like this.” you took a deep breath, knowing the ethics of this are dubious at best, since you’ve been attracted to him since the day he moved in and he is technically drugged. he’s obviously in pain, and you can’t let him go out alone all the way to the lab to get the antidote. you don’t even know if he’d survive. “look. it’s an aphrodisiac. i….” you closed your eyes before you continued. “if it will take the pain away, you could….take it out on me.” you swallowed, trying to put it gently.
peter looks at you in shock, managing to push himself off the ground all the way. “you mean it?” he asks, looking straight at your lips. “because it would…” his voice trails off, cracking.
“yes.” you grab his shoulders. “i mean it”
peter immediately grabs your face with his large hands and pulls you into him, his lips sliding against yours in an anxious release. you didn’t imagine your first kiss going like this, but it doesn’t count, right? as soon as he gets a bit of control of himself, though, he slows down a little, capturing you in a breath-sucking kiss, both of you breaking away for air twice. “are you sure?” he asks again, his voice a low rasp this time. you nod and he urges you to jump, carrying you with a kiss into his bedroom.
he lays you on the bed as gently as he can, and you immediately make work of sliding off your shorts and underwear. he’s so obvious with his staring, it’s adorable. “can i?” his eyes wander down and he asks again in that low rasp. “please?”
the way he said please sent a shiver down your spine. “yeah.” you answered breathlessly. “what do you want?”
“my face buried in your thighs.” he responds instantly, with the cadence of a casual conversation for something so brazen. you stifle a gasp and nod. he wastes no time gripping your thighs and hooking them on his shoulders. “you’re fucking dripping, baby.” he remarks as he starts to explore with his fingers. “this for me? you like seeing me worked up?” he almost whispers.
“i think so.” you manage to get out in between gasps from his fingers brushing against your clit. “do…do that more.”
“this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb in circles. “you like that, baby?” you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back with a stifled moan as your answer, and he grins. he takes this opportunity to start putting his mouth to work, his tongue lapping crudely as his thumb resumes pressing all of your nerves. the way he’s sucking and licking is filthy, the wet noises, his hums of delight and your cries of pleasure create a cacophony of pornography. you buck your hips against his face, pulling him closer lightly by his hair and when he groans you feel it inside of you. you whine, arching your back and he has to pin your hips down with a hand. he pulls his face away for a second, his mouth glistening with a smirk. “now who can’t control themselves?”
“shut up.” you whined in embarrassment, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down. he breathed a laugh against your clit, and you squirmed as much as you could in his hold. you’re not gonna last. he hummed and spoke into you, “yes ma’am.” and you knew you were done for.
“peter?” you whimper in between heavy breaths. “gonna cum.”
“yeah, baby?” he pulls his face away a bit, still keeping his thumb in position, only switching it to take your clit between his lips. “go on. cum for me.”
that’s all it took for you to release all over his chin with a weak little cry, your voice hoarse and breathless. you try to catch your breath, laying your head back on his pillow. “alright…” you breathed. “just give me a second…and you could…we could-“
“-about that.” he interrupted you. “i….i already did?” he says in a question, almost like he’s embarrassed, stark contrast to what his tone was minutes ago. “the effects wore off. let’s just leave it at that…” he trailed off, coughing. you prop yourself up on your elbows.
“did…did you…” you look down. “cum in your suit just from eating me out?”
he takes a deep breath, looking at you up and down. “maybe.”
you fall back with a giggle, and he immediately gets defensive. “what?”
“nothing.” you shake your head, the blood rushing to your face. “just so fucking hot.”
#PETER IS A MUNCH AND I WILL NOT BE CONVINCED OTHERWISE#tasm#tasm x reader#tasm peter parker smut#tasm peter smut#tasm smut#tasm peter x reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker smut#buggy bf#my writing#notsfw
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shy shy shy
a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship
masterlist | requests are open!
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nerdy peter lovers rise
They were just glasses.
On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.
Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.
Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.
Metal frames, thick lenses.
Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?
Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.
He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.
Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.
Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.
Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.
Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.
It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.
"You wear glasses?"
Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.
"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.
You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.
You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.
Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.
"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.
"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.
You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.
"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.
"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.
"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."
"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.
"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.
"Pete?"
"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.
"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.
"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.
You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.
You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.
But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.
Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.
He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.
You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.
"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.
Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.
"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.
"Tell me about it."
"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.
"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."
Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.
"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.
"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.
"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.
Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."
"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.
Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.
"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."
"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.
"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."
"I didn't know you were into that."
Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.
"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.
"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?
Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.
"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."
#peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#tasm spiderman#tasm spiderman x reader#andrew garfield peter parker x reader#andrew peter parker#v + peter#v writes
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