#Peter: making friends one roof top at a time
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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).
I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.
Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!
Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1
[Pt.2]
——
Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.
He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.
His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.
He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.
“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”
Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.
“Stay still, you motherfucker!”
“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.
“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”
“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.
Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?
Huh. His options for dinner was limited.
“Take this!”
Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.
“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.
“Get him!”
God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.
Great.
Oh, speak of the devil!
“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.
He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.
“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.
The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.
“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”
“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”
“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”
“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”
The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.
“You have a lawyer?”
“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”
“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”
“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.
“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”
This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.
“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”
“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.
“Like, Dare Devil good.”
“You know Matt Murdock??”
“Sure do.”
“He… he’ll take on our cases?”
“Dang, all of you?”
“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”
“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”
“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”
“Got it. Sorry.”
Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.
And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.
“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.
And Spider-Man
F
E
L
L.
——
Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.
He twisted.
“Boss, what the fuck?!”
“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.
“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”
“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”
Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”
“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”
Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”
“I know!”
Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.
——
Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.
“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.
“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.
First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.
That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.
He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.
He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.
He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.
The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.
With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?
Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”
Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?
Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.
He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…
Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.
“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”
His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]
Peter stared at the words, gut churning.
Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.
Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.
“Fuck.”
He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.
——
Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.
“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”
Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.
He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.
“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.
“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”
Five things.
1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!
2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.
3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.
4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.
5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.
Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.
Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.
Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.
Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.
3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.
Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.
Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.
“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.
Now… People of Interest.
This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.
Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”
“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.
And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.
He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.
Subcategory B: Local celebrities.
“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.
“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”
“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.
“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”
Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.
Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.
Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.
Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.
So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.
Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”
And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.
And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.
Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.
He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.
For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.
He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!
Oh my god.
Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.
Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.
Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-
“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.
“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”
“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”
The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”
Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”
“Food, duh.”
“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”
The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”
“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”
“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”
Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.
“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”
Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.
“I’m Peter!”
“… Frank.”
He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.
“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”
Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.
“Uh. Hey.”
Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.
“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”
Peter chewed faster.
Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”
Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”
Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!
“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”
Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!
“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”
“That was easy.”
Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.
“Ow!”
“Whatever, shrimp.”
Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.
Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.
“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”
“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.
“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.
“You’re looking for a place?”
“Yeah? Why?”
Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”
Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.
“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”
“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.
“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”
“Dunno? Probably not.”
“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.
Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.
“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”
Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”
“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”
“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”
“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.
——
They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.
“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”
“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”
And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.
Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.
“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”
“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.
They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.
“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.
“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”
“No-” Frank had started.
“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.
“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”
Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.
“Uh.”
“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”
“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”
Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”
Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.
“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”
Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.
“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.
“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”
“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”
“I can use a cart.”
And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.
“Can you even reach the handle?”
“I’m not that short!”
Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.
“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.
“Okay!”
Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.
“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.
——
As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”
Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.
He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…
He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.
Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.
He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and
He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.
All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for
So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.
“Hey.”
Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”
Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.
“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”
“Rude. No, of course not.”
Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.
“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…
“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”
The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”
“Nice! We can eat on this!”
——
When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.
“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.
“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.
——
When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.
So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.
An hour later, he met his first vigilante.
“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”
“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.
“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.
Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”
“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?
“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”
Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”
“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.
“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”
“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.
“Photography buddy!” He cheered.
They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.
“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”
“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.
——
Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.
“Red Robin to Nightwing.”
“What’s up, Red?”
“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.
“… What?”
“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”
“Copy. Oh, that kid…”
“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”
“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”
“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”
“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.
“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.
“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.
“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.
——
Peter: lay low and get home
Also Peter: talks to a vigilante
None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.
#batman#peter parker#dc x marvel#Peter Parker gets yeeted into Gotham#spiderman#oc#red robin#dark matter#inspidered by the fic dark matter#yes that’s a pun#dick Grayson#nightwing#dick grayson is Richard Parker#richard parker#Oracle#Jason Todd#red hood#tfw you get conan’ed#Peter: making friends one roof top at a time#Spider in Gotham AU
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Rooftop
Summary: You and Spider-Man meet on a rooftop, feelings develop, but you don't know him. Or do you?
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Word count: 1000ish
Warnings: none, just fluff
A/N: I wrote this a long time ago and just found it. So I tweaked it and I hope you like it. Also not my gift.
____
You sat on a roof top, legs dangling off the side while you watched the sunset. You took another bite of the sandwich you got at Delmar's. Taking a deep breath, enjoying the sunset. Feeling a slight sting as the cool air filled your lungs.
"I know your there spidey." You said matter a factly, finishing your mouth full.
"How!? I didn't make a sound." He questioned his voice slightly getting higher.
"I felt the energy radiate from your soul." You told him sarcasticly.
"What!?" He was so confused, the eyes on his mask moving.
"So, do I ever find out who the famous Spider-Man is?" You teased, standing up and turning around, balancing yourself on the ledge.
"What if you already knew him?" Spidey teased back, as you stepped off the edge of the building onto the safer part of the roof. He started walking towards you.
"Do I?" You questioned, taking a few more steps.
"Maybe." He retorted, stopping infront of you. He looked out at the sky the pink and orange dancing together to create one of nature's masterpieces.
You and Spidey had been meeting up on this very roof top for a month straight. And you felt as if something had clicked between the two of you. The playfull banter and sharing of snacks, as much as the deep conversations while somehow maintaining a sense of privacy. It made something inside you feel funny in a good way. He made you feel safe, even if you didn't truly know him.
But at the same time there was Peter the scrawny kid at school who didn't look so scrawny anymore. Of course you had a crush on him, he was sweet and empathetic and he wanted to help others, he constantly was. With school work, or helping an old lady cross the road, or volunteering at May's work. But you and him? That would never happen.
You two were friends. Strictly friends. You, Peter, MJ, and Ned. It was perfect. It was your little group. Why mess it up?
What you found strange was how similar the two were. Although the great Spider-Man tried to hide it you knew he was a nerd. He was clearly a teen, who was struggling to find his place in the world. And Peter was a massive nerd, I mean just the shirts he wore. He too was struggling to find what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to be.
Spidey sat down on the ledge and you joined him. You offered your half eaten sandwich and he gracefully took it. Lifting his mask as you started at him, right before he could take a bite and then looked over at you. You looked back at the sky.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You said the sun close to disappearing into the horizon.
"Yeah it is." He spoke so quietly you almost didn't catch it. You looked over only to realize he wasn't looking at the sunset.
God you wish you could see his eyes right now. The eyes on his mask shifted as he looked down at your lips and you looked down at his. He started to lean in and as he was milameters from your lips. His hot breath coming in contact with your skin, you turned your head to the side and slightly leaned back. He swallowed hard before leaning back.
The choice had been made. Peter. He was the one.
"I'm sorry." Spider-Man said letting out a sigh.
"Look I like you, your kind, and smart and you save this city but I don't know who you are, how old you are or what school you go to. Assuming you go to school. I would kiss you but I- I" You stuttered trying to get the word out.
"Like someone else." He finished you scentence looking up at the sky.
"Yea."
"Whats he like?" He asked, taking you by suprise. When most guys were rejected for another they got angry and weird, but he didn't.
"Uhm, he- he's nice, smart, a total dork. He used to be pretty scrawny but he isn't anymore, although I don't think anyone really noticed. His name is Peter. He's kind and he's in the mathleets. He helps me with most of the homework, since I kinda suck at it. He's such a good friend. Always there when you need him. But I just don't know how to tell him. God I'm stupid." You rambled a smile on your lips, not noticing that spidey was trying to get your attention. But he got it regardless.
He crashed his lips onto yours making you shut up. He quickly pulled away and swifly removed his mask.
"I like you to dork." Your brain was lagging, your mouth hung open overwelmed by what just happened. A strange feeling settled in your stomach before butterflies urupted.
"Peter?" You questioned, with wide eyes and a confused face.
"Hey." He gave you a cute smile before you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips to yours again.
#spiderman#spider man#marvel#marvel mcu#marvel movies#marvel studios#marvel universe#into the spider verse#michelle jones#tony stark#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker
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i think i’ve seen this film before
hobie brown x fem!reader
request?: yes
request: “Can I request a hobie brown x fem! reader who saves his life but almost dies. Like, she’s super protective over him and one day they’re fighting an anomaly.”
requested by: anon
word count: 2.8k
genre: angst with some fluff
Warnings: language, strangling, mentions of injuries, knives, mentions of stabbing, near-death experiences, murder, death, mentions of stitches, canon event happenings, kraven the hunter (he himself deserves a warning lmao), bruising, cuts, blood
A/N: angst be my favorite lol i hope you enjoy this anon! sorry for the torture hobie and (y/n) go through in this oops ALSO t-swift title bc i enjoy pain
───────────────────────────────────
The minute you came to Spider Society, Hobie became your best friend. Literally, y’all hit it off immediately. The two of you were seemingly inseparable and made the best team out of all of the spiders. He was overly protective of you, and you were overly protective of him. Because of that, it wasn’t surprising to anyone in the slightest when the two of you shared a kiss after a mission. Of course, for the two of you, it was an in the moment thing. Both of you were hurt and needed the other person to be okay and while the two of you were frantically making sure the other was alive and okay Hobie somehow ended up with his lips on yours out of relief you were still here. And then from that moment on you were together all the time romantically on top of being best friends.
Miguel noted this and started to try and send you two on missions without each other, but every time Hobie wouldn’t listen and end up with you anyways. So, he had no choice but to send the two of you together. But he was always worried that one of you wouldn’t be fast enough to save the other. And if that happened… well he’s seen enough Peter’s lose a Gwen to have a guess.
And today his fear nearly came true.
The two of you were on a mission going against a particularly difficult anomaly in his world. Of course, you and Hobie had taken on just as bad before and been fine, so going into it there wasn’t really any concern. But during the fight, things were getting a little hairy. The two of you land on a building to regroup and rethink your methods of attack. “Kravens fucking suck,” you growl, and Hobie nods. “Can always count on the bloody Russian wanker to make shit ‘arder ‘an it should be,” he frowns. “How do all the damn Kravens know how to develop the damn spray to cancel out our senses?” you ask, rolling your shoulder back since he had hit you there earlier after numbing your spider sense. Hobie rubs it without a second thought. “‘ow bad ‘e getcha, love?”
“I’ll be okay. Just pisses me off,” you mumble, and Hobie nods. “Don’t push y’self, (Y/n), it’s not worth it. If Miguel wants to catch ‘is guy so bad ‘e can do it ‘imself,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “We can do this, just gotta come up with a new strategy.”
“Right, then. We’ll give ‘im hell like we did ‘at one time with Lizard in Miles’ dimension,” he suggests, and you nod. “Sounds like a plan. We can even knock him off the top of the roof of this building. He may be strong but he’s not us.” Hobie nods.
“Stay safe, (Y/n).”
“You too, Hobie.”
With that, the two of you leap off the building, Hobie going directly in front of Kraven and taunting him while you went behind him, getting ready to strike. Unsurprisingly, it worked. The two of you got in quite a few punches, kicks, and hits, but this Kraven just… wasn’t going down. The two of you didn’t know this, but he was actually drugged up on some enhancer from his world, so his durability was even stronger than usual. And getting a few good hits in just pissed him off. The two of you were going in for a similar attack, Hobie going behind him this time to catch him off guard, except that didn’t necessarily happen. Kraven caught him off guard. He turned around, grabbing Hobie by the throat. He gripped Kraven’s hands, trying to get them off, but his strength was too enhanced. Hobie actually felt panicked. He’s been through things like this a lot, but now he had you. And not only that, you were here, with him.
And he’s supposed to be protecting you.
His eyes widen as he feels Kraven tighten his grip, cutting off his airflow completely. Now, he was really panicking. He was desperately trying to pry Kraven’s hands off his throat, but nothing seemed to be working. He subconsciously started glancing around, trying to find you. If he was going to die, he wanted you to be the last thing he saw. Not this overly muscled asshole currently murdering him. He heard him muttering some shit in Russian, but he was too preoccupied with his vision starting to get fuzzy and going black. By this point, bitter tears were falling down his face, and all he could think about was you. He’d stopped fighting as hard at this point, mainly because he literally couldn’t fight any harder than he was, weakly trying to get Kraveen off in any way he could think. But it just wasn’t working. Nothing was working.
That is until Kraven got railed with a semi.
He let go of Hobie, and Hobie gasped for air. He fell to the ground, everything was hazy and he was too dizzy to stand up. He coughed, looking up at where the semi came from, and saw you. Kraven was angrily standing up again, and you were laser-focused on him. You charge at him, getting another good hit to his face. Hobie smirks, trying to stand, but realizes after he stumbles back down to that ground that he is nowhere near that point just yet. So he tries his best to take deep breaths and recover from what he just went through. But that leaves you alone fighting this piece of shit. He doesn’t necessarily like that idea very much. His eyes don’t leave you once. He knows how strong you are, but knowing how strong this anomaly is, worries him. So he calls for backup. Jessica answers, and he speaks. His voice is raspy, almost unrecognizable. “Need ‘elp,” he starts, still staring at you, then he sees something that makes his entire body go numb.
Kraven punches you in the leg, and you suddenly stumble. You fall to the ground, and Kraven makes it a point to punch your other leg. And then both of your arms. Until you can’t move. Hobie’s heart drops as he realizes he’s using his nerve punch against you. He kicks you, hard, punching you in the face this time. Then, he pulls out his bolo knife. Hobie is running before he can even process it, and he learns later on that in his moment Jess heard him scream in a way she’s never heard before. He gets to Kraven and feels a searing pain spread across his chest, but he couldn’t care less about himself in the moment. He reaches out for you, ready to shield you with his body so Kraven can’t cut you again, but before he can grab you, Kraven picks you up by your throat, dangling you off the top of the building. You can’t even fight back, all of your limbs are limp and you just have to endure the choking Hobie went through earlier. Kraven laughs. “Do anything to me, and I drop her.”
“Let ‘er go. Now.”
“Well, if you insist.”
He drops you. He drops you right off of the high rooftop the three of you are on. Hobie screams, but Kraven quickly grabs him, preventing him from saving you. Big mistake on his part. Hobie growls, punching Kraven directly in the face. He doesn’t hold back. Kraven crumples to the ground, and Hobie jumps over the side of the building, trying to get to you as fast as he can. He doesn’t give a fuck about capturing Kraven anymore. You can’t move. You can’t web away from this.
You’re just falling.
You’re happy you have your mask on because you worry that the fear in your eyes would break Hobie. Hobie feels the same about himself as he reaches out for you, but you’re too far away from him. He shoots a web out, connecting to your abdomen as you near the ground, webbing himself against the building so you won’t keep falling. So you’ll be safe. He has to keep you safe.
To Miguel, he’s seen this scene a thousand times. The exact positioning, the panic, the way Spider-Man isn’t rationally thinking in the moment and makes a web mistake that destroys him. Typically, Miguel would stand aside. This is technically a canon event multiple spiders go through. But something in him isn’t accepting the two of you going through the event of losing the other.
Canon event or not, Miguel wasn’t about to let another spider die today.
Jess zooms over on her motorcycle, shooting webs out of her gloves to form a web of cushioning underneath of where you are about to hit the ground while Miguel leaps, shooting a web out to connect to your head to lessen the blow since he can’t get to you in time. Luckily, the web below you mixed with Miguel’s precaution quite literally saved your life. Your head did bounce back a bit, yes, enough to give you whiplash, but you were alive. Albeit very injured, but alive. Hobie leaps down immediately, landing on the web and cradling you in his arms. He rips yours and his mask off, bringing his ear down to your lips to hear you breathing. Then he puts his head on your chest to hear your heartbeat. It’s only then that he can calm down slightly. But then he sees the knife wounds all over your body. He looks into your eyes, seeing tears as he wipes them away. Sometimes he wipes away his own tears that dripped down onto your face. “Love? (Y/n)? Can ya ‘ear me?” he asks, but you just slowly blink at him.
You’re too tired to listen. You can’t really hear anything, but it breaks your heart to see Hobie’s face. The way he’s frantically trying to talk to you. You just don’t have the energy to say anything. He’s moving so much faster than you could even imagine moving right now. You can see Hobie mouthing to stay awake to you, but you can’t hear his voice. You wish you could hear his voice. You love his voice. He gently slaps your cheek, pulling your attention back to him. He looks so sad. He starts getting fuzzy, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. You know he’s telling you to stay awake and you know you probably should, but you’re just so tired. And cold. But Hobie will hold you and make you feel warmer. So, a little nap should be fine.
Your losing consciousness scares the shit out of him. He holds you close to him, crying and mumbling that he’s sorry over and over again. He only stops when Miguel approaches him, telling him they have to get you back to Spider Society so they can take you to medical. “But you have to let go of her…” Hobie shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll carry ‘er,” he says, and his voice sounds more like pleading than anything else. Miguel nods. “You can do that. Let’s go.” Hobie stands as Miguel opens a portal, walking through it and holding you as close to him as he can. He frequently checks your pulse, panicking when he realizes it’s fainter than before. As soon as he steps foot back into Spider Society, you’re taken from him. He just has to watch as they take you away. Jessica is holding him back. “You need medical attention too, Hobie. Come on,” she says, staring at the gnarly gash across his chest. He gets stitches, but the entire time he only asks about you. He’s only thinking about you.
“What happened?” Miguel asks him after he’s all fixed up. Hobie shakes his head. “I wasn’t fast enough,” he whispers. His voice is still raspier than usual and Miguel can clearly see bruising around his neck. “She saved you, didn’t she?”
“…I don’t wanna talk abou’ it.”
“Hobie—”
“Yes. Okay? She did. I’m alive cause she ‘elped me and when I needed to ‘elp her, I couldn’t. I ain’t fast enough,” Hobie snaps, and Miguel frowns. “Hobie. This is the job. She’s okay now, but—”
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s the fuckin’ job, Miguel! She got hurt on my watch!… This is my fault…”
“No. It isn’t, it’s that Kraven’s… though I don’t think we’ll need to worry about him anytime soon,” Miguel says, and Hobie glances at him. “Why?”
“You forgot to pack your punches in your panic,” Miguel sighs, and Hobie nods. “Fuckin’ good. Bloody bellend deserved it.”
Miguel shakes his head. “You should be able to go see her now. We needed to stitch her up and give her some blood transfusions so she’ll probably be a little… drowsy if she’s even awake. But you can see her.” Hobie immediately stands. “Where is she?”
Miguel walks him to your room, motioning to Hobie that he can go inside. Hobie walks inside the hospital room and rushes to your bedside. He grabs your hand, rubbing it with his thumb. You’re asleep, and he doesn’t even want to try and wake you up. But he can’t help but notice all the bruises and stitches all over your body. He can’t stop staring at your injuries, but the one that really sticks out is the bruising around your neck. He had the same, but he would have gone through it twenty times if it meant you didn’t have to. He’s crying again, but he doesn’t even make an effort to wipe the tears away. He just keeps staring at the injuries he couldn’t prevent. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
His head snaps to your face. Your voice is as hoarse as his, yet you’re still looking at him with a tiny smile. “’ow d’ya feel?” he asks, quietly. You sigh. “Bad. Head hurts really bad. Body’s sore. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you say, and he nods, looking away from you slightly as a new wave of tears comes over him. You bring your other hand up to his face, wiping some of his tears away. “Don’t cry, Hobie, I’m okay,” you say, and he shakes his head no. “You’re not okay. You’re ‘urt. I couldn’t ‘elp you…” he whispers, and you frown. “No. I should have helped you sooner.”
“Don’t you say ‘at.”
“Then don’t you say bad things about yourself,” you say, and he just looks down. “Hobie… look at me.” He raises his head, looking at your face. “I’m alive, okay?”
“But you almost—”
“Who cares what ‘almost happened.’ It didn’t happen, yeah? I’m here, breathing, talking to you,” you urge, and he shakes his head. “I care. Always gonna care, love,” he whispers, placing his hand on yours on his face, holding it there. You rub his cheek with your thumb, and he lets out a shaky breath. “I killed ‘im, y’know?”
“I’m so surprised,” you say sarcastically, and a ghost of a smile graces his face. But it disappears as fast as it came. “Really, though. ‘m sorry, (Y/n). This shouldn’ta ‘appened to ya,” he mumbles. You shake your head. “It’s okay, Hobie. You did your best,” you say, and he sighs. “Ya sound tired.”
“I am… apparently getting stabbed and cut multiple times makes you lose a lot of blood. Who would have thought, right?” you joke, and Hobie shakes his head. “Go to sleep, love.”
“Only if you join me.”
“Ya stable enough for ‘at?” he asks, hesitating just because of your recovery process. “I’ll be a lot less stable if I don’t get to hold you, Hobart,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I’m rubbin’ off on ya too much.”
“Impossible.” You scoot over, and he lays down. You wrap your arms around him as he places his head on your chest. Hearing your heartbeat is soothing to him right now. He gently wraps his arm around your waist, careful not to agitate your wounds. You rub his arm for a few moments before falling asleep. Now that he knows you’re okay(ish) and that you’re alive, he suddenly feels very tired. Maybe it’s just the lull of your heartbeat, but he falls asleep shortly after you.
Jess and Miguel look inside the room. “You interfered with a canon event,” Jess says, and Miguel shrugs. “I don’t like when spiders die.”
“Sure. That’s the only reason,” Jess mutters, softly smiling at the two of you. It was cute how in love the two of you were, even after a near-death experience on both ends. Peter B. Parker appears behind them, looking into the room and covering Mayday’s eyes. “Oh, shit— I mean shoot. Don’t tell your mom. What did I miss, you guys?”
───────────────────────────────────
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x y/n#spiderpunk x reader#spiderverse x reader#hobie brown#spiderpunk#spiderverse#atsv
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Learning curve Love
Peter Parker x Male Reader
Request: Tom peter x male reader where reader and Peter are both heroes and Peter gets in over his head one day and gets seriously injured which causes reader to enter a panic
It's nighttime, and you and Peter are out-stopping criminals. Peter is happy that he doesn't have to hide his secret from you. And you feel the same way, plus it was hard to keep Venom a secret from Peter. You and Peter are on the roof and he is feeding Venom chocolate bars.
“Please don't throw it,” You said.
Throw it again!
Peter was throwing chocolate bars then Venom would catch them. But every time Venom moved rapidly, you would fall.
“Sorry. It was fun watching him catch it” Peter smiled.
You are no fun, Y/n.
“Shut up, V,” You said.
You shut up, Y/n
“Okay, Venom stop or no more candy,” Peter said.
Fine
You rolled your eyes at Peter. While on the roof, you and Peter see The Sandman and Shocker breaking into the bank. You and Peter jump off the roof and went to fight them. You start to fight the Sandman while Peter is fighting Shocker. But Shocker managed to hit Peter with high voltage and Peter yelled. You were going to help but Sandman didn't let you out of his sight. You were struggling to fight him, he punched you towards the wall then you feel a full force against your body. You barely can't move then The Vulture arrived, he helped his friends to get away with the money.
“I can catch them!” Peter yelled.
You fell to the ground and you are breathing hard.
“No!” You yelled.
Peter jumped on The Vulture before getting away. Peter and The Vulture start to fight then he flies all the way up, while his friends drive in the van. You and Venom wear going to stop them but you were worried more about your boyfriend.
What do we do!?
“Save Spiderman,” You said.
Before you can think of a plan, you watched Peter fall from the sky. He hit the ground hard and you run towards him.
“Talk to me!?” You said.
You start to touch his face but he can't move. You try to wake him up and slowly he closed his eyes, you keep telling him to wake up.
“V, go to him and take him home,” You said.
Let's go spider boy.
You watched Venom go to Peter. Venom is helping him heal then he used his abilities to take Peter home. You start to run home before the cops arrived at the crime scene.
When you got home, Venom has Peter in bed. Venom managed to heal Peter’s bones and some cuts.
He is alive.
“Thanks. Peter?” You said.
Peter is out cold. You put a blanket on him and Venom went back to you. You took a hot shower while Venom watches over Peter, but Venom is watching cartoons and laughing so loud. When you come out of the shower then Peter starts to wake up.
Peter!
“Hey, V” Peter smiled.
Peter starts to sit up and you sit next to him.
“Don’t scare me like that!” You yelled.
“I’m sorry, Y/n. Everything happened so fast. My body is feeling sore” Peter said.
“You will need to rest for a while-”
Peter kissed you and he has his hand on your cheek.
“I love you, Y/n,” Peter said.
“I love you too,” You said.
You help Peter take off the suit now he is just in his boxers. Then you grabbed the first-aid kit, you start to clean his wounds. Peter put his hand on your cheek and he starts to kiss you. He moves closer and he has his hands on your shirt and you don't stop kissing him.
He is still feeling sore, but you helped him walk to the kitchen. Venom tried to help you make dinner but he made a bigger mess, Peter tried not to laugh when Venom squirted ketchup on you. He tried to get the ketchup bottle from you
“Not funny, Peter” You mumbled.
“It is funny” Peter smiled.
It's not my fault, Y/n that you can't grab a bottle.
“Oh my god” You mumbled.
You went to change your pajamas. After dinner, you and Peter cuddle in bed, and he lies his head on your chest. You and Peter tried to watch a movie but Venom snores when he is sleeping.
✬ ✫ ✯ ✯
It's cold, Peter snuggled close to you. He put his arm around you and his leg on top of you.
“You are warm, Y/n” Peter mumbled.
“Your feet are very cold. Where did you sleep by an igloo?” You said.
“Shhh, you talk too much. More sleep less talking” Peter said.
“Rude,” You said.
He kissed your cheek. You start to close your eyes again and Peter is snoring. Venom sneaked into the leaving then turns on the radio, and his favorite song comes on. Venom started to so loud that, you and Peter woke up.
Last Christmas I gave you my heart
But the very next day you gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special!!!
“I’m going to start a fire” You mumbled.
“V! Turn it down!” Peter yelled.
Venom kept on singing.
#peter parker imagines#peter parker x male reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#spiderman imagine#spiderman x reader#spiderman x male reader#x male reader#male reader#male!reader
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You Licked Me First!
summary: Peter is your best friend, best friends go get ice cream together right? Best friends also get down and dirty when ice cream gets a little messy...Right? Smuttty, smut smut babes!
Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Ayo 18+ Please! Aged up Peter, Smut, Dirty language, Oral fem receiving, Cursing, Peter is slightly cocky (heh)
You and Peter were nothing more than friends, of sorts. You’d always had a thing for Peter and Peter has always had a thing for you, it was just the way things worked. The two of you didn’t have a defined relationship, just a few sleepovers and some cuddling, you hung out just like any other friends would. Today was no different as you and Peter stopped on the way back to his place for ice cream. New York happened to be hot this summer, and it was killing you, the awful sticky sweat feeling against your skin as Peter walked with you. He was just as pitiful, lapping at his ice cream “Shit- It’s already melting.” He pouted looking over at you for help.
You laughed thinking of what to do, the place hadn’t sent you away with napkins, so you did the next best thing. Leaning over close to Peter you slid your cool tongue across the heat of his wrist all the way up to his fingers where the spill began. Peter stopped in his tracks watching your lips close around his knuckle making his breath hitch. “What? What else was I supposed to do?” You giggled watching Peter turn towards you silently with a certain determined gleam in his eye. Scooping his arm around you quickly “Hold tight y/n.” He grinned before slinging you both onto the roof of the nearest building.
Just as you went to pipe up and ask what your friend was doing, a freezing cold, cream landed across your neck. “Oops~” Peter grinned watching vanilla ice cream drip across your skin causing goosebumps to form across its trail. “Peter!” You laughed trying to keep the ice cream from seeping into your low cut top, much to Peter’s enjoyment, the ice cream opted to slip down between the crest of your breasts. Now it was his turn. Taking a stride towards you Peter placed his tongue against your skin like you’d done to him, starting at your neck where he’d purposefully dropped some on you, enjoying the peep you couldn’t keep in. Your face heated in shock and arousal as you watched Peter’s face dip to your tits. His wet tongue plunging between them to ‘clean you up’ as he shoved his face into your soft skin with a satisfied groan.
“Oh my- You...” Your eyes widened feeling a slight suckle to your skin before Peter popped off licking his lips. “What? Too much?” He looked worried for a moment, that is until you set your cup down and approached Peter “Listen you licked me first!”. “Shut up.” you sighed and smashed your lips against his. “MMm, ah gotcha.” He laughed speaking a bit muffled as he backed you up to a shadier area on the roof, placing his own cup down to grab your ass instead loving the breathy noise it brought from your throat. Taking his moment, Peter slipped his tongue into your mouth licking at the sweet aftertaste of your ice cream. “Pete~” you moaned grinding your hips forwards against his, drawing a moan from Peter, Hands working to untuck his t-shirt, glazing your hand over his muscular form.
“What is it babe? What do you need?” He teased toying with the hem of your skirt. “You want these?” He spoke cockily while curling his fingers in the air in front of you making you whine. “Yes.” You swallowed thickly feeling Peter grip your ass once more before beginning to kneel, taking the time to squeeze and nip at the soft skin of your thighs. Bringing one of your legs over his shoulder Peter slipped a finger behind your panties, gathering the moisture that had built at your core. “Oh y/n~ Did I do this?” Peter raised a brow feigning innocence. Slipping his finger into his mouth letting his eyes flutter shut, a deep pleased groan fell from his lips before he smacked them “Damn that’s good.”. Peter smirked winking up at you, enjoying the way you moaned and squirmed under his gaze.
Peter tugged your wet panties down and out of the way, placing his mouth on your heat making you moan out and lace your fingers into his hair. Finally, his tongue plunged in and out of your cunt, fingers digging into the skin of your hips. Pulling away with heavy breaths, Peter looked up at you, standing silently he slid his fingers into his nearby mostly melted ice cream. Pressing them against your lips he couldn’t help the dark chuckle he let out as your lips eagerly parted for him to shove his ice cream coated fingers into your mouth. Peter grinned at how desperate you looked. Legs still spread slightly while you leaned against the wall. “So needy, you always feel this way about me?” He asked watching your tongue swirl around his middle finger trying to ignore the way his cock twitched with just as much need. “Uhuh.” You nodded feeling a little drool spill out of the corner of your lips, Peter removed his fingers from your mouth so he could slip one into your heat making your head lull back. “Think about you like this, all the time, want you to fuck me.” You huffed tugging at his brown curls making Peter hiss in pleasure.
Peter’s warm eyes shot up to yours at the request, fuck? He pushed another finger into you letting you enjoy the stretch, thumb rolling circles on your clit. “My pleasure babe~” Peter grinned pulling his fingers out of you, quickly shoving them back into his own mouth to satiate himself while you fumbled around with his pants button and zipper. You reached your hand down between the both of you, freeing Peter’s dick watching it spring to life out of his boxers. “I’m not the only eager one~” You teased back making Peter roll his eyes and shake his head. “How could I not be?” He mumbled kissing your lips giving you a taste of yourself. “Jump.” He commanded slapping your ass before hoisting you up against the brick behind you, making sure not to hurt you in the process. You held your skirt up with one hand, watching Peter line himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly pulling a groan from both of your throats. “God, you feel so damn good y/n.” He praised placing a kiss to your neck “So warm, soft..”. You felt as though you’d explode, his words encouraging you to roll your hips against Peter’s as he reached the hilt.
Taking that as a sign Peter thrusted in and out of you at an even pace, your lips sucking purple bruises into his skin as a reminder for later while Peter’s released a breathy moan. “Shit...” You moaned feeling Peter speed up his thrusts gripping at your chest with his free hand. “You’re doing so good Pete, fill me up so nice.” You spoke huskily against Peter’s ear making him shudder, glancing down to watch himself slide in and out of you. “Fuck it.” He growled pulling you off the wall, he was rough but still a little careful as he shoved your back against the cool concrete below. Your hair stuck to the back of your neck as Peter drove his hips into yours, one hand placed beside your head to hold himself up, the other rolling circles against your clit causing your legs to shake.
“Pete I’m-” Peter hushed you with a passionate kiss, slipping his tongue back into your mouth again letting you explore this time. “Mmhmm.” He nodded quickening his pace as best he could through sloppy thrust. A few more thrust and you were coming undone beneath him, body convulsing slightly from pleasure, crying out against his lips as you clung to Peter who kept thrusting until he came undone too, pulling out to let his seed spill across your thighs, you swallowed the loud moan Peter let out, the both of you heavily panting. “That was- Holy shit.” Peter laughed proud of himself while trying to think of how the hell he was going to clean you up. “So, are we?” He gestured taking off his t-shirt leaving him in a white tank top. “If you clean me up, we’re whatever you want.” You joked propping yourself up on your elbows watching Peter scramble to clean your legs up with his shirt.
My First smuttttt! Hopefully it’s alright but I like it! Love ya Darlin’s <3 -Snax
#Peter parker smut#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker blurb#Peter parker x reader#spiderman#spiderman no way home#spiderman homecoming#spiderman far from home#tom holland#Tom holland imagine#tom holland x reader
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Spideypool Fic Recs
I've recently been reading a lot of Wade/Peter fics, so I thought I'd share some of my favourites with you! Please remember to check the tags before reading <3
Lobster Biscuit by Scarlet_Ribbons (2.6k)
Peter goes on a terrible, terrible date, cashes in a favor on behalf of Spider-Man, and begs Deadpool to crash it.
Deadpool delivers.
Not One Hundred Percent by HashtagLEH (7.3k)
After being drugged at a party, Peter is lucid enough to figure out that he needs help. But who does he even know (and trust) enough that he can just pop up on their doorstep at two in the morning?
Meanwhile, Wade would just really like to know who this random college kid is that showed up at his door.
let me explain by jilliancares (8.5k)
Wade scoffs, shaking his head and elbowing Peter in the side. “Sure,” he says, sarcastic. “That’s why your spidey-sense doesn’t see me.”
Peter’s on the verge of laughing, wanting to join Wade in his amusement, but he freezes. His entire body goes still. He finds himself staring at a roof three buildings over, not even looking at anything. Two blocks away, a car alarm finally shuts off.
“I never told you that,” Peter says, the realization startling him.
Or: Peter's starting to realize just how much Wade knows about him.
Bear the Pain (as the Gods Intended) by mustehelmi (9.8k)
Five times Wade is injured and one time Peter is the injured one.
Gravitation by WillowSong (9.9k)
In a universe where Spiderman never exists, young Peter Parker makes an unlikely friend in Deadpool.
A Friendly Neighbourhood Kidnapping by Willow Writes (12k)
Peter is more than a little mad when Wade ghosts him for years, and then when he finally shows his face in New York again, it’s to kidnap Peter Parker. So he decides to have some fun with the situation and see how long it takes for Wade to recognise him.
Wade thinks he has an easy hit ahead of him and is planning on getting back in touch with his favourite Web–Slinger once the job is done. But Peter Parker seems harder to take down than his buyer let on.
what light through yonder window by hellornothing (14k)
The figure moves quickly, but Peter’s faster. He’s still adjusting to the sudden brightness, so dark red is really the only thing he takes from this initial encounter, but it’s enough.
‘Deadpool?’
aka the one where they get together via late night window visits
The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) by Spongeekat (28k)
"Look, I’m just a Deadpool. I know I’m not Dr. Phil. But I couldn’t just let you make some bad decision and let the world lose one more hot piece of ass. Anyways, I live in the area and saw you standing on the ledge, and I thought I could maybe talk you down. Dying hurts, in case you were wondering. It’s not worth it.” Dying...hurts? Talk him down? Bad decision?
Oh.
“Oh.” Everything suddenly connected and the gears started turning in Peter’s brain. “No, wait, I wasn’t…” He didn’t quite know how to explain he wasn’t there to do that without completely explaining why he was up there in the first place. Any resolve he may have had earlier about revealing his superpowered persona had melted away, his plans going awry within seconds. "
Or Peter is madly in love with Wade, and plans to meet him on top of his apartment building to reveal his identity. Wade thinks Peter is standing on the ledge ready to jump, and takes it upon himself to make sure he gets home safe and finds a reason to live again.
Finite State by Scarlet_Ribbons (34k)
When he's blackmailed by, of all people, a weird work acquaintance who needs Spider-Man gone for obviously illegal purposes, Peter is forced to hang up the suit- at least temporarily -until he can resolve the situation. Unfortunately, things start to get sticky when Deadpool, who Spider-Man's been on-again off-again with (okay, yeah, lowkey messing around with), crashes into Peter's life and demands the photographer help him figure out what's got his favorite webhead so spooked.
Peter's life is really weird.
I Think I Missed a Step ('Cause I'm Fallin' For You) by mokuyoubi (42k)
There’s a weird familiarity about the kid's tone and posture, and it’s true that Wade is pretty far from home today but he’s also certain he’d remember that baby-face if he’d seen it before. On the other hand, he has spent the better part of the past few years feeling like he’s missed a step, so this conversation isn’t exactly anything new.[[A hot guy is willingly talking to us. Go with it.]][Don’t make an ass of yourself.]“Shaddup,” Wade grumbles, though Yellow has a point...
OR Peter thinks Wade knows his secret identity, and Wade is really confused by the hot coed who keeps popping up and hanging out with him.
Damage by dontcareajot (42k)
Peter Parker finds himself in a sticky situation and who should show up to rescue him but the infamous Deadpool? Now Peter feels indebted to the mercenary... And maybe weirdly charmed by him.
My Boyfriend's a Murder Bot by Fredegund (55k)
Wade Winston Wilson is ugly. His skin's inside out. It ripples and moves every second of every day, at constant war with the cancer. Vanessa put on a brave face for him when she first saw the changes, but it turns out even she can't stomach the sight for long. He's ugly and alone and nothing will ever be good in life again -
If only that were his only problem.
But Weapon X is at it again, under crisp new management, turning orphans into super slaves and bringing out the big guns to make sure nobody interferes this go around (namely one Pool comma Dead). So now, not only is Wade alone and ugly forever, but he's got a bit of a pest problem in the form of a black-clad murder-happy man spider with a collar around his neck and an unhealthy obsession with tying Deadpool up.
So maybe it's not all bad...
Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) by Sarah_Sandwich (72k)
He sighs from where he’s prone, arms akimbo, and roof gravel digging into his spine. “I lost my job. My… other job. The one that actually pays the bills.”
He doesn’t want to dwell on why he’s telling Deadpool of all people. Surely it has nothing to do with his desperate lack of friends. MJ is in California chasing her dreams, Harry’s undergoing treatment for his mental health and isn’t allowed visitors (not that it matters since they blacklisted Peter after last time), and Gwen… Well.
And it’s not like he can talk to Aunt May without her worrying about him starving to death under a bridge or something so… Deadpool it is. Man, when did his life get this pathetic?
OR: The one where Peter and Wade are literal soulmates but don't realize it for literal years because they're literal idiots.
Dissonance by stuckybarnes (121k)
Wherein Deadpool is reluctantly hired to protect Peter Parker from an organization out to hunt him, with varying success on both ends and quite a lot of feelings, revelations, and identity crises.
I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did, and please let me know if you have any more Spideypool recs! And, as always, thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing these incredible fics with us <33
#spideypool#deadpool#wade wilson#spider-man#peter parker#peter parker/wade wilson#lina lore#marvel#ao3#fic recs
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imagine peter patrolling when those killer clowns were roaming the streets . . . ??? it’s. a normal patrol, he’s swinging around stopping a mugging or two, maybe he gets to chase down a couple of stolen cars if he’s lucky!
he turns a corner, and there’s a random clown stood in the middle of the road— nobody else is around, just a clown holding a knife. peter is spider-man, he’s fought aliens and wizards .. but this? absolutely not, for the first time EVER peter parker calls in backup— he doesn’t explain, just tells karen to call anybody and everybody because the clown has friends and there’s now four instead of one just . . . standing around.
they notice him, one of them starts waving — another does a weird stabbing motion and spider-man does not move an inch, frozen in place. he nearly forgets about the backup and decides to make a run for it when two more appear but iron man and hawkeye are both at his side and bucky barnes is somewhere on a roof top, everyone is confused completely expecting a huge fight, buildings destroyed and a couple injured— but instead they all stare at . . fifteen? killer clowns just . . standing around doing nothing.
iron man is the first to break the silence, immediately suggesting they all retreat and circle back on this . . never— peter protests, they can’t just leave a bunch of killer clowns out on the street ! . . . bucky is unsettled but also intrigued and starts walking over but turns back around the second he makes eye contact with one of them ( clint left the second he saw the clowns. )
and they just, observe quietly. nothing happens— the clowns start walking around as a group and peter starts praying— but nobody intervened because? fuck that?
#killer clowns#clowns#marvel mcu#peter parker#spider man#spiderman#peter parker and tony stark#tony stark#irondad and spiderson#hawkeye#clint barton#iron man#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#winter soldier#peter parker core#found family
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less adorable than halloween??
if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!
synopsis ; peter parker has a halloween debate with u
warnings ; weiner, kissing, m! reader, high heights, unedited, i didn't like the pacing so - bad pacing, funny insults, usage of word sexy but no sexy stuff
note ; tbh ive been missing peter parker, but there's no male reader and i mald. mald every day, guys pls request a little stuff
words ; 0.9k+
⊱ ────── {⋅.ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ - ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴜᴘ ꜱʜᴏᴇꜱ.⋅} ────── ⊰
"Honestly, Halloween is overrated." You whipped your head around to look at Peter from your position laying down, an expression so offended on your face, that you could feel frown lines creasing atop your features. Rolling over, you tackled him on top of the roof you two were previously resting on, before Peter mentioned that thought of his that never should have seen the light of day.
How dare he?! Halloween is not only a great holiday to show your generosity, but also the best excuse to dress as over-the-top you want!
"How dare you?! Halloween is not only an amazing holiday to give back, but also, the best excuse to dress as extravagantly as you want!" You only repeated what you thought, because of how concrete your statement was.
Your neck, now sore from the immediate swivel, turned red—either from pure offence, or from the pain, it did not matter! What blasphemy!
"Hey, I just think that Halloween is way too hyped up for a holiday where people wear masks and rob people of candy!" He held up his hands in defence, before resting them back on each side of his body. "Do you have any idea how high the crime rate goes as Spider-man?!"
"Don't pull the Spider-man card on me—and also! That's not Halloween's fault, that's just the dumb wieners out there who want insurance money." You sputtered, gesticulating willy-nilly.
Peter couldn't help but giggle, despite how serious you were being. "Wieners?" Of course, he wouldn't tell you this. But he really couldn't take you seriously. His little boyfriend saying wiener in a derogatory sense, had to have been the highlight of his day.
"Yes! And also, the kids are adorable! Have you seen how small their costumes are?" You spoke softly, as if trying to sway him.
Peter frowned, very close to being persuaded that Halloween is, indeed, a supreme holiday. The superhero absentmindedly started playing with the strands of hair shielding your forehead. "But... Okay, but-" He stuttered, racking his brain for arguments.
Whilst he attempted to think of something, you reigned in your temporary victory, shaking his shoulders in glory. "Yes! Fina-"
"Wait, I got it!" He threw his hands up in a fit of realization, a high-pitched scoff erupting from his throat, a scoff so high, that it was higher than the building his friends almost fell off of. "You couldn't have possiblt thought it was over, right?" He scooted up the roof, bringing you up with him, the spandex material of his suit nearly making you slip off his thigh, to your death.
His face suddenly went scientific. You really couldn't describe it, he just made that face he does when he's about to school you with information, most of the time about science, rarely anything else. To emphasize his point, he swung his hands in front of him in a board-like manner, like he was miming a cardboard box, and you were trapped in it.
"Horror movies." Peter looked at you expectantly, as if he was expecting you to burst into flames on how right he is.
"What about them?" You merely crossed your arms, and pointed your chin up, an act of defiance against your boyfriend.
Peter's eyes darted all over the place, from one fire escape to the next, like he was trying to find Freddy Krueger hiding inside a drain pipe. He hated horror movies.
"Come on, s/o, you've got to give me this one! It can't possibly be a coincidence that all those terrifying horror movies are all on Halloween. And, and-" You interrupted clasping his face suddenly, with hands that sent chills to Peter's spine from the October breeze.
"Peter. Look at me." His eyes, stiff, freeze onto you.
You kissed Peter's lips, shocking him momentarily. "You're adorable. The light of my life. The spaghetti to my meatball. But you're a pussy." His eyes, once wide and in love, narrowed into slits. Peter, in a small act of rebelliousness, stood up and brought you up with him, causing you to fall backwards on purpose. With your voice caught in your throat, and your heart pumping a thousand miles a minute, you thought you died and fell off the rooftop. Over a Halloween debate.
Which, in your defence, was totally worth it.
Sadly, you wouldn't be able to go out in glory, Peter isn't that vengeful. He's no Robert Pattinson.
He caught you by the hand as soon as you were one inch away from his playful shove, arms wrapped around your waist, with a smile resting softly on his features. You couldn't read exactly what he was thinking, but you could tell whatever it was, it had to have been special to him.
You sent him a look, head hanging at an angle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Peter shrugged queerly, "I dunno. I liked the thing you said about how I'm adorable… and handsome… and totally sexy…" You grinned, "Hey, I only said one of those."
He rolled his eyes in such a way that he really might've just twirled his hair, and it would've looked the same. "Well, they're all true, aren't they?" He looked at you, expectant, his hands resting on your back comfortably.
"Well, aside from the fact you're totally trying to distract me from winning this Halloween argument, yes, your self-proclaimed compliments are all true." You traced your fingers on the mechanical spider on his chest, chuckling exasperatedly.
Peter was infatuated by his boyfriend, he looked like he was gone. "And?"
You leaned in, pulling him in by his shoulders, eyes switching over Peter's lips and his eyes.
"And.... They're all true about Halloween too!"
"Damn it, s/o!"
⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰
#[ ☁︎.peter parker ]#spider man x you#peter parker x male reader#peter parker#peter parker x y/n#tom holland peter parker#peter parker x reader#marvel mcu#fanfiction#spider man#spiderman x male reader#mcu spiderman#no way home#spider man no way home#spider man: no way home#spider man fanfiction#spiderman#spiderman x reader#spiderman x you#male reader blog#male reader fluff#peter parker x you#spiderman x y/n#spider man x y/n#spider man x reader#marvel#mcu x reader#marvel cinematic universe#avengers#mcu
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My Friend Spider-man
Pt 2: Opportunity
(Spider-man x reader)
Warnings: None
Pt 1
A new day has begun.
The sun is shining, and the horns of New york traffic are blaring through your balcony glass doors. Lazily, you detangle yourself from your blankets and push off the mattress for a nice refreshing shower before your roommate could wake up and steal all of the warm water for himself.
You sit in the shower, letting the water run down your back. As you sat in the tub, you got to thinking about how you would go about scoring that interview. You were stumped, nothing came to mind…Unless—
BANG BANG BANG!!!
Sudden bangs break your thoughts.
“Yo! Are you alive in there? If you are, hurry up I gotta get going. - And don’t you steal all the hot water!” Your roommate Mikey shouts into the thin bathroom door.
“Shut up, I’ll be out in a sec!” You shout back reaching for the shower handle and shutting it off.
After a rushed routine, you exit the bathroom already glaring at the man in front of you.
“Geez finally” He huffs, towel and his clothes under his arm.
“Can’t you shower at your girlfriend’s place?” You ask as he pushed past you. But he slams the door in your face not even bothering to respond.
Quickly you get dressed in your most professional outfit. Readying your bag and notepad you made sure to also bring an audio recorder just in case. A ping from your phone grabs your attention. It was Peter.
Peter: Sorry, Can’t meet up with you today got busy. :(
A heavy sigh leaves your lips when you read the first few words. Peter just always seemed to get busy at the worst moments possible.
You: That’s fine. say hi to Aunt May for me
Peter: Will do. Sorry again.
Shaking your head you stuff your phone into your pocket, grabbed a quick breakfast, and went out into the city streets.
You tapped your pen on your chin, looking over your notes on how to grab the Spider’s attention.
You contemplated jumping into traffic but that was too risky.
Getting robbed was an option though there was no way you could properly set that up and turn it into an opportunity without getting flustered.
Maybe standing on the roof of a building… but he might get the wrong idea.
“Hmm…” You hummed to yourself. How the hell does Peter do it? Always at the right spot at the right time you supposed.
The right spot…
You stop in your tracks and looked over to an alley similar to the one from yesterday.
A smirk appeared on your face as you walked into the entrance “Just a holler and you’ll come swinging right spider-man? Well… We’ll see how true to your word you actually are.” You say and placed yourself right in the middle of the alley grabbing your notepad a pen and activating the audio recorder before abandoning the bag.
Quickly you scan the area to make sure it’s free of people.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! SPIDER-MAN!!! HELP!! HELP ME!!!”
You shout using every breath of air you could store in your lungs. The enclosed space made the screams echo back to you, you tried your best to make the plea as realistic as possible. People that walked past shot you strange looks making you feel slightly embarrassed. After a few seconds, You tapped your foot impatiently “Guess not–.”
“Y’now, when I said give me a holler. I mean when there’s a real emergency” The voice behind you made you scream and turn around.
“Holy shit you actually did!”
The famous hero looks around the alley spotting your bag and the audio recorder on top of it. He shakes his head and turns it off.
“Ma’am I respect the dedication to your work, but I don’t think this is how you get an interview. Someone else might—”
He stopped suddenly, you took out your notepad and pen and walked towards him more.
“I would like just a few minutes Spider-man, just a few questions. I won’t be long. I swear.”
“...”
When you were met with silence your shoulders drop. “I’m sorry. It’s just You’ve inspired so many including myself and I just wanted to—”
Suddenly Spider-man grabbed your arms and pulled you with him into the air. At the same time a log arm smashed into nearby buildings and large pieces of gravel fell into the alley you were just standing in.
You gasped and yelped clinging onto the hero, arms tightly wrapped around his neck. As he swung around the giant metal arm grabbed his leg and pulled him along with you in the complete opposite direction. Everything was so fast and blurry, quickly you felt him protect your head as his back smashed into a building. He stuck to the wall while holding your waist. He crawled around the building, there was a ledge and he set you down on it.
“I’ll come back, just stay here.” you nod at his words but your ears rang and your mind was cloudy making everything dizzy, not even noticing when he jumped off the ledge. You forced yourself to not look down.
You sat as close to the wall as possible hugging your legs. Heavily breathing and struggling to keep up with your rapid heartbeat.
—
After what felt like hours you no longer heard crashing and banging, the sound of gravel faded away and the shaking stopped. You look around for any sign of the web-slinging hero, you huddle into yourself keeping all your limbs as far from the edge as possible.
Slowly you see Spider-man lower down in front of you, hanging on his web. He steps onto the same ledge as you and waits. There is silence between you two, he reaches his hand out.
“Come on, I’ll take you home.” You just sit. The fear in your stomach doesn’t allow you to move even an inch
Slowly he crouches in front of you “Hey, You can trust me alright?” His words were gentle as he held his arm out for you.
Finally, you grab his hand and he carries you off and around the city. Occasionally you point out what direction to go in and in no time your balcony was visible.
“Now… When you want a real interview, be sure to call me like a normal person.” He says gently placing you down on your balcony.
You were dazed and slowly released him from your bear hug, though to him it must not have felt like anything. You smiled up at him. “but…I-I don’t have your number.”
“That’s right, so maybe you should give me yours.” He responds.
You couldn’t see his face but you just knew he was smirking under his mask. “Smooth.” You chuckle and pull out your notepad again to write your number and quickly hand it to him. He tucks it into his sleeve and salutes you goodbye, shooting a web.
“Until next time miss reporter.”
“Yeah…Until next time, spider-man”
With that, he jumps off your balcony and swings away. You watch as he turns and flips in the air until finally, he’s out of your view. You squealed in excitement and jumped up and down, rushing into your room to open your computer and begin writing.
'Spider-man Saves City From Doc Ock.'
No no no...
That’s way too basic. Everyone knows he’s a hero, despite some other opinions. Everyone knows he’s done so many good deeds. People need to know him, people need to know the person behind the mask. You need more information.
Ping
You glance at your phone.
Peter: (____)!! Oh my gosh did you see the news? Are you okay? Where are you right now?
You: Yeah I’m okay Doc Ock just attacked out of nowhere, Luckily Spider-man made it there on time. He saved me, Peter. Again
Peter: That’s good! Meet me at the diner just wanna check up on you.
You: I thought you were busy.
Peter: My Schedule, just cleared up :)
You laughed at his message, He’s always been so sweet, even during high school and that really strange point during senior year. You dismiss the thought and were about to leave your apartment again before realizing your clothes were all dirty and messed up. You huffed in frustration and quickly got changed and out the doors.
You saw people crowding around destroyed buildings, construction workers were at the sites and TV news reporters were also gathered around. You walked passed as quickly as you could but a reporter caught up with you “Excuse me, ma’am. You are the woman who was saved by Spider-man this morning is that right?” The woman says walking with you, her Camera man following close in front “I.. um”
“How would you say Spider-man knew how to defeat Doctor Ock?”
“I- I don’t know, I didn’t ask him. Listen I really gotta go.” You say quickening your speed, She tries but decides not to keep following you.
At last, you make it to the diner scanning for your friend. He waves you over. You were shocked to see a bandage covering his cheek and forehead. You ran over to him.
“Oh my gosh, Peter are you okay?” You asked holding his face to examine it.
He smiles and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah I’m fine, I just so happen to have been at the scene the same time the attack happened. Don’t worry, okay?”
“You were there?” You asked sitting across from him
“Yeah, just running a few errands for Aunt May when suddenly the building was smashed through, I was hit but nothing serious.” His story made you worry more. His eyebrows furrowed then he turned and grabbed his bag. “Anyways amongst all the chaos, I managed to take these.” He says and pulled out some sheets of picture paper.
He lays out the photos on the table, you stared in awe at the pictures. One was of Spider-man in the middle of battle, Doc Ock’s metal arm wrapped around his waist and another in Spiderman’s arms.
Some others were of Spiderman swinging around the city.
And the last one was of the Spider carrying civilians in the air protecting the two from the villain close by, one of Doc Ocks arms was in the shot. Every detail was captured in the image. How the civilians clung to the hero's arms. His chest logo was also visible in the shot. The perfect image. It made you wonder how it was possible for an image to be captured.
“Oh, Petey these are amazing!… How you manage to be at both the right place and the wrong place at the same time will never cease to surprise me.” You say messing with his wavey brown hair.
He lowered his head shyly.
After you two got lunch Peter offered to walk you home and you gladly accepted.
You walked together speaking about random things and reminiscing about your history together. He has been your closest friend since middle school, through thick and thin he has been the most constant person in your life. Eventually, the topic got back to Spiderman. “You get any luck on the interview yet?”
This made you pause and stare at the ground nervously
“Well… uh…I mean I had something planned but it didn’t really go as i wanted.”
“Huh, is that right?” he laughs
“Yep, I had everything completely under control—” You say walking into the road but before you even had time to realize what was happening, the back of your shirt was grabbed and you were pulled back and fell to the concrete. Blaring horns speed past you and the driver shouts in your direction. You stare shocked. this is the third time you’ve almost died and it hasn’t even been 24 hours.
You look up at Peter who held a concerned expression.
“I uh. Think I might still be a bit dizzy from the events this morning.” You admit, Peter shakes his head in disbelief and helps you up “Nice reflexes by the way, since when could you do that?” You ask brushing yourself off.
“Uhh….That doesn’t matter let's just get you home before you actually die,” Peter says and wraps an arm around you protectively and you both walk huddled together.
—
You make it to your apartment without losing your life.
You sight when you finally make it through the door and walk into your room to flop on your bad.
Ping
You hum in annoyance at the new message.
Sluggishly you pull out your phone and look at the contact.
Unknown Number:
I think I’m ready for that interview now.
A simple message. No context was needed for who the sender was.
You stare
And stare
And stare…
10 minutes
You have been staring at the message on your phone for 10 whole minutes. Everything wasn’t real to you because if it was then that meant that Spiderman. The Spiderman just agreed to an interview with you.
Jittery butterflies scattered in your stomach. Just think, Spider-man sitting beside you answering question after question, answer after answer until finally, you have all the material you need to make the best report in your career. You'll be generously rewarded and celebrated for sharing all that you know on the vigilante.
And so will he. The city will shine a different light on the red and blue hero.
You'll make sure of that.
#Spiderman#spiderman x reader#spiderman fic#spiderman fanfiction#x reader#daily bugle#peter parker#peter parker x reader#marvel#marvel comics#marvel x reader#sony spiderman#tom holland#andrew garfield#toby maguire#j jonah jameson#spider-man#spider man x reader#spider man comics#peter b parker#spider man#spider man ps4#spiderman#game#may parker#aunt may#comics#mcu#mcu fanfiction#My friend spiderman
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Not So Scary
Not So Scary Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: In the midst of your criminal activity you have a run in with the familiar Daredevil
A/N: This is based on the 'chase' prompt from tickletober.
Trope I wish we did more: Hero x villain or Vigilante x Vigilante finds out the other is ticklish.
SFW but a little flirty because let’s be real. Smooth Moves Matt
If you like this Story you should check out @sugars-fluffy-escapes Peter 3 x Reader fic with a similar concept: A Rose Without Thornes
Word Count: 1.9k
Hell’s Kitchen was a rough place to grow up. With crime down every ally and Mobs with a hand in every business, it was no shock that you grew to adopt the Robin Hood lifestyle. It wasn’t lawful, what you did, not in the slightest. But you were doing your part in the community.
As of late, a financial epidemic had run through the area. Fisk’s goons had been dealing with counterfeit bills and your family were directly paying the price when your Uncle’s sandwich shop had fallen victim to far too many dealings. Many of your friends and family had only false money, given out by shady businesses and sneaky deals. They were unable to buy or bank anything and it was a joke to think the cops would mess with who was to blame. Not when Fisk has so many of them on either his payroll or hit list.
The pressure was on to defend your family where the law failed them, so you found yourself geared up, mask adorned, breaking into one of Fisk’s manufacturing warehouses. It was low security and easy for you to slip in to his office where you broke into his safe and swapped out the counterfeit bills to regular old money.
When you think about it, you were basically helping Fisk out. After all, the whole point in this operation was to cycle the money around, no crime in that. Well, ignoring the fact that you stole a handful of documents from his desk, figuring they’d come in hand later.
They did, however, quickly prove to be an issue now that you were hopping roof tops and booking it at full speed to escape the neighborhood vigilante whom you recognized as Daredevil. This wasn’t the first run in you’d had with the Red Devil since you’d met many times before, each time exchanging banter and poking fun at one another. However, it was the first time you’d faced off against each other in combat. It didn’t take long for him to have you pinned against the wall after a small rooftop battle. After all, your skills were in cat burglary, not martial arts.
So there you stayed, back against the wall with your arms held tightly over your head. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he spoke into your ear.
“Well?” He questioned. “Hand ‘em over,” His hypnotic voice almost made you cave and do exactly as he said, but you were far too stubborn and enjoyed your back on forth too much to give in.
You shrugged your shoulders as best you could and you kicked out slightly to tap your foot into his and answered, “You’ll have to let me go, Red.”
Your sweet coaxing would have worked on so many men, but unfortunately, he knew you a little too well. “Nohot a chance,” he laughed, flashing a toothy grin. “Not after last time.”
He was fair to be cautious since the last time the two of you met, you did indeed leave him to deal with the oncoming police. But it was different this time, you were safe here and there’s no one to bare witness.
“Oh, come on,” you huffed. “You can’t blame me for that, you would've had me arrested,” You defended.
“Well, I guess we’ll never know, will we?” He had no interest in giving you time to plot an escape. “I need Fisk’s arrest log.”
Again, you shrugged, purely to thicken the tension between the two of you, “Finders Keepers."
His head nodded in a ‘Alright then.’ motion before he opened his mouth to speak, smacking his lips as he did. “I didn't expect you to make this easy."
With his free hand he began a basic pat down. He’d seen you tuck things away into your suit before but he wasn’t quite sure how it worked, or even where the hidden pocket was. You felt his hand run down from your ribs to your waist in one quick motion and you instinctively jumped, biting back a scream that escaped as a muffled shriek. You had squeezed your eyes shut out of reflex and kept them closed in personal protest to your embarrassment. A moment went by and you let out a sigh, keeping your eyes closed but dropping your head to your chest.
“What was that?” He asked with a smug undertone, tilting your chin up to face him. "And remember you can’t lie to me.”
You took a deep breath, “That was the moment I decided I have to kill you,” you squeaked out. “I’m sorry but you sealed your fate,” you shrugged, deciding the best way out would be to talk your way out of this.
Daredevil chuckled at your panic and took note of your heart beat. Even with the additional flustered panic, it hadn’t changed from its usual beat. There was no evidence of genuine shame, panic or discomfort. “Now,” he teased in a ‘cooing’ voice. “That’s unfortunate,” he swiped his fingers horizontally this time and you jerked again, squeaking in response as you tried to kick out.
“No! Red! Come on, it’s spandex, this sucks!” You pleaded in a desperate vortex of honesty, anything to summon a little pity for you. You felt all dignity abandon you in this moment, but you just couldn’t stand the light touches that fluttered around your stomach as he continued to trace his finger back and forth. You didn’t had armor like him, just a thin layer of spandex over your now stretched torso.
“Would you rather a strip search?” He questioned, listening to the familiar uptick of your heart that he heard every time he flirted with you. ”I can’t imagine this is any better on bare skin.”
You were thankful that your mask covered the top half of your face, hopefully it did well in hiding your bashful expression. You were almost speechless and chose to tug at your arms. Now seemed like a good time to give in, before this got any worse and you passed out from all the blood rushing to your face. “Okay, okay,” you caved. “Just let me go and you can have your arrest log.”
He pinched your side, just to watch you jump. “Still don’t trust you,” he confessed. “Tell me where you’ve got it.” He stepped closer to you, practically pinning you further into the wall as he kept up with the tormenting tracing, now at the base of your ribcage.
“AH! Hey! Red, give ihit a rehehest,” you tried desperately to bring your knees up but he was in the way. You couldn't see a way out unless he stepped back or released a hand. Regardless he didn't give you much time to think clearly.
“Tell me, Sweetheart.” What you wouldn't give to wipe that smirk right off his face. His fingers drummed down to your waist and your entire body tensed in anticipation. To be perfectly honest, you had no idea how ticklish you were until now.
Unbeknownst to you, Matt picked up on your heartbeat and heard it speed up the more he poked around that spot. He was very much enjoying himself but it was getting late so he dug his hand into your waist, tasing his fingers into your spot.
“NO! DAHAHAREDE- EAH! Yohohohou hahahahavehehe toho stohohohop. Pleheheheeeese!” Your words officially started to get lost in your giggles and he eased up only slightly. “Ahahalrihihight, ohokay, just-ugh- left, above my wahahaist thehehere's a hihidden zihipper,” you confessed, knowing he'd have trouble finding it. You'd hope he had to let you go so you could make a run for it.
He began prodding around, poking and scritching in a way that was just as unbearable as before, making you burst out again into laughter. “Yohou're gonna have to stop fidgeting around,” he teased.
You couldn't help the squeak that feel from your lips when all five fingers prodded into your side, "YOU-Yohou're gohohohonna hahahave to stohohohop!”
He simply shrugged, smiling at your misfortune. “Hey, I can keep this up all night.”
You tugged aggressively at your pinned hands, "juhuhust one hahand!” you begged, hoping for the slightest of mercy. He wasn't letting up so you had to meet him in the middle, but you really couldn't walk him through the zipper. He had to let you go.
“Okay.” He slowly brought his fingers to a stop, resting them on your hip. “But only because you begged.” With caution he loosened his grip on your hands so you could pull them free from his grasp.
As you tried, he secured his hand again, keeping one pinned where it was. Groaning in frustration you tossed your head back and quickly yanked your leg up in attempt to kick his leg out from under him. You failed when he shot his hand out and seized your thigh in his hand, before bringing it up to his waist, gripping tightly enough to make you jump and squeak once again.
Tilting his head mockingly, he tightened his lips, holding back a laugh. “You’re just sensitive all over, huh?”
You exhaled in exasperation and it almost sounded like a growl. You narrowed your eyes and jumped off the ground, putting all your weight into his body to push yourselves off the wall and tumble back onto the floor.
The two of you landed on your backs and Daredevil leapt up into a superhero landing where he faltered at the sight in front of him. You made no move to get up, just puffed out a few laughs and moved your hands to your side where you folded over the fabric to reveal a zipper.
Opening the pocket, you pulled out the pages of the documents you stole and held them out to him. “Here, Horns.”
With slight hesitation he took them from your hands and silently counted out how many pages you had given him. Once he was satisfied, he fell back to lay down next to you on the roof. A moment passed as you both caught your breath. The city was loud but he could still hear your heartbeat steady out, beating almost in time with his.
“Hey, can I ask you something you don’t have to answer?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.
“I think I owe you that much,” He prompted with a goofy smile plastered over his face.
“Are you really blind?” You asked in a small voice. He waited a beat before nodding. He clearly wasn’t ashamed or secretive, it just seemed like he was debating whether or not he wanted to lie to you. “Well, if you want. I can always help you out with those papers. Seems like it might be quicker and less suspicious than transferring them into brail.”
He couldn’t deny that you had a point and he couldn’t deny that he did want to see you again. “You’d help me even after I just tortured you?” he asked smugly.
“Well, in exchange for revenge of course.” You joked, proud of the laugh that pulled from his lips. “I’m serious,” you laughed as you stood up and made your way to the edge of the roof. “I have a small base not too far from here. We can keep the masks on if it makes you feel better.”
Sitting up, he tightened his grip on the papers in his hand. “Guess you’re not as much of a pain in the ass as I originally thought,” he confessed.
You hummed and turn to face him despite him not being able to see you. You just wanted to get another look at him. “And you’re not so scary as I first thought.”
Thank you so much for reading! Again if you like this story you should check out @sugars-fluffy-escapes Peter 3 x Reader fic with a similar concept: A Rose Without Thornes
And if you want to see more from me, request here or check out my Masterlist
#matt murdock x reader#ler!matt murdock#lee!reader#ticklish!reader#tickletober2022#Augstickletober2022
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Hi! Woul you be okay with writing a rough creepy stalker like cnc smut with 001? If do please do thank you, and if not that's okay thank you
My dude, that is literally all I write these days lmao (also, thank you so much for leaving a request, sorry it took so long)
The Skin (Peter Ballard x AFAB!Reader)
a/n: I took that request and ran with it. Idk if that is what you’ve envisioned, but I really wanted to write some Haunted House type thing, so, here we go!
Warnings: NON-CON (i won’t even try to explain myself on this one guys), AU-ish, Haunted House donging, like...kind of body worship? idk man
Summary: You should’ve kept your mouth shut, when your friends told you the legend of the Creel House. Now, here you are, all on your own, it’s dark, and the creaking of the wood sounds suspiciously a lot like laughter.
In your opinion, houses were a lot like people. They could retain memories, etched into the floor boards like grooves on brain matter. They could also bear scars, deep and traumatizing, never to be healed. There is hurt enchanted into the walls of every house, just like a human being's skin.
Despite knowing all of this, here you stand. A small silhouette in front of a towering building. Blackened windows stare back at you, daring you to come closer. There is a deceptively sweet stained-glass rose, overlooking the courtyard from the top of the front door, seemingly untouched by the passing of time.
The Creel House.
One, that has seen so much tragedy, it's been completely left to rot by the entire town of Hawkins. The memory of past events was enough to put an aura of hopelessness around the building, making it forever empty. Tales of that one faithful night are passed through generations, scaring both children and adults alike. The stories varied from completely impossible, to logically sound, but all of them had one thing in common. The ending.
- They say Creel's family ghosts still haunt this house to this day - your friend whispered into your ear one day.
You were doomed the moment you decided to play it cool, pretend those stories didn't do anything to you. You'd shrug, keep the stoic facade of a sceptic. Ghosts aren't real, and you are not a child anymore, believing every tale told with a gravely voice. Now, you were an adult, semi-responsible and collected.
Which is why you're in this situation in the first place. Stupid illusion of bravery, and now here you stand, bag in hand, about to spend the night in an abandoned house. Your friends are perhaps just a bit cruel, leaving you off the side of the road, their laughter echoing, as you take your first steps towards the porch. The warm light of the setting sun lulls you into a false sense of security. For now, there's no reason for you to question, whether 20 bucks is an appropriate payment for this little endeavor.
And honestly, what's the worst thing that could happen? You'd probably find some homeless man, sleeping off the tiredness of the day, happy to have a roof over his head. Even if said roof has seen unbelievable tragedy. Your thumb swipes over an outline of a pepper spray can, tucked into the front pocket of your jeans. For safety.
The wood creaks mercilessly, as you climb the few steps leading to the front door. Chills run up your back in tandems, as you enter, pushing the wooden door. It gives in rather easily, and soon you're hit with a suffocating smell of rot and dust from decades ago. It swirls inside your nose, and before you know it, a loud sneeze resounds through those aged halls.
Now, the ghosts surely know they have a visitor.
Scratching your nostril, you make your way inside, the door closing after you with a barely audible click. Dust and wood, wherever your sight can reach. The inside of the house doesn't look as dilapidated as you would've anticipated. Sure, there are heavy cobwebs basically everywhere, and your feet make marks on the dirty floor, but beside that, the house looks decent. No window seems to be broken, a trait uncommon amongst abandoned buildings.
With a small smile of wonder, you walk through the corridors, growing darker by the minute, as the sun begins to disappear into the nearby woods. It's much colder inside, than outside, you note with a shiver. You're not the most informed in the topic of temperature changes inside old architecture, but you are pretty sure, that big of a difference could be considered abnormal.
There are holes in the two armchairs inside the living room. Possibly chewed by mice and other critters, searching for warmth. The sofa stands surprisingly unmoved, there are flowers on the cushions, quilted with metallic string, which shines lightly in the dying light of the day. It looks cozy enough to sleep on, and you take a mental note to set camp here, for the night, after you stop exploring.
Soon, you have to take out your metal flashlight. A long pole of light cuts through the growing darkness, as you exit the living room and make your way towards the large staircase. From the corner, a dilapidated grandfathers clock watches you intently. Its arms are long dead and unmoving, but the soul remains, stirred to life by an intruder.
Every step of the way is creaking ungodly loud. And by the time you actually reach the first floor, you start to feel quite ridiculous, haunted house or not. Just as you reach for the handle to, what you assume, are bedroom doors, there's a creak somewhere below.
You freeze, body taut, ears straining to hear more, fighting with all their might against the silence.
Nothing. Just the quickened beating of your heart, your hard breathing. With a shrug meant to conceal your growing anxiety, you turn your back towards the staircase.
Ghosts don't exist, old, dying buildings do. And, just like people, those old buildings tend to settle for the night.
The room you enter looks to have been a bedroom at some point in time. It's spacious and holds two single beds. Perhaps it was the children's room. You could imagine young Creel's running around the empty halls, all smiles and laughter. You wonder, what did they play with back in their day. Did they have favorite toys, before their lives were so cruelly snuffed out?
You wander further inside, taking note of the pink, frilly covers on one of the beds. There is a doll, old fashioned one, with porcelain face, stuffed between the pillows. It would be creepy if you believed on ghosts. But you don't, so you're fine.
A voice, akin to child's scream of joy, nearly makes you trip over your feet. It's vague and barely audible, and not long after, you realize, it's just a sudden gust of wind, blowing through a gap in the window. With a huff, you shake your head.
The second bed looks much more mature in a sense. The covers are white and strangely pristine for such old age. Without giving it much of a thought, you reach out to touch the thick fabric. But, just as your fingers brush the coarse bed covers, something large and black skitters from one side of the bed, to the other.
You yelp, jumping back, as a fat spider dissapears under the pillow. A red pattern on it's back telling you exactly what you're dealing with. Black Widow. Wonderful. For a second you wonder if sleeping outside on the porch would be considered cheating. With a heavy exhale, you swipe your hair back from your face, a slow feeling of exhaustion entering your system.
There were no ghosts, no one was haunting these empty halls. Just memories, distorted by years of rumors and gossip. And you're better than this, smarter than some stupid story.
At least that's what you think. That is, until your flashlight starts to flicker. Your heart jumps into your throat, as your only source of light slowly, treacherously, dies in your hands. You try to smack the thing, frustration growing inside you, but it won't budge.
- Fantastic, absolutely fucking fantastic - you mutter under your breath, sticking the offending tool into the back pocket of your jeans.
Now, surrounded by complete and utter darkness, everything seems so much more terrifying. It's like you can feel every particle of dust settling in your hair, like you can hear every breath the house takes. It's maddening, and for a moment you stay planted in your place, screwing your eyes shut. Trying to calm yourself down, slow the rapid beating of your heart.
- Cool, cool, cool, cool - you chant quietly under your nose, like a grounding mantra.
The sound of your voice, arguably, does calm you down, and soon you gain enough confidence to open your eyes again. The room looks the same as it did before, no crazy hallucinations, no specters flying around your head.
You huff a laugh, shake your head, and take the first step towards the door, fully intending to make camp downstairs in the living room.
And that's when you feel something brush against your back. It feels real, tangible, as it slides up your spine, towards the base of your neck, before ruffling your hair.
You gasp, turning back on your heel, panic settling into the very core of your bones.
Nothing. The flowery wallpaper of the room stares back at you, as if it's mocking your current disheveled state. Your hand flies towards your neck, scratching lightly at the base, as if trying to scratch the weird feeling from under your skin.
Another creak from downstairs. Your head whips around, and you run up to the door, pushed by adrenaline alone.
There is no way this place is actually haunted. Because if it was, you'd have to get out of here as soon as possible. Which meant loosing those 20 dollars your friends put on your courage. 20 dollars you already knew how to spend. So, with a calming breath, you steel your nerves.
You raise your flashlight just a little bit, in case you need to whack someone over the head with it. You didn't know if the metal handle would do anything against a possible ghost, but you were sure, should the cause of your distress be of human origin, it will hurt as shit.
There's not a soul downstairs, and as you overlook the ground floor from the top of the stairs, you feel another shiver climbing up your back, causing the hair at the back of your neck to stand on guard. You take a step forward, fully intending to go down the stairs, but, as if pushed by an invisible force, your foot lands a bit too far. The rubber sole of your shoe slips past the wooden step, and with a scream you feel yourself fall.
The house is momentarily filled with a dull noise, as you tumble down the stairs, landing on the floor beneath them. The flashlight slips past your grasp, rolling on the floor, before hitting a wall.
- Ugh... - you can't move for quite a while, writhing in pain on the wooden floor.
There's a dull ache basically everywhere on your body, and you can already feel bruises forming on your skin. This was definitely not worth 20 dollars.
And as you lay there, gathering dust on your clothes and hair, you can clearly hear a sound, which makes your blood freeze on the spot.
A laugh. Small chuckle, barely audible, but loud enough for you to be sure. Despite the pain, you shoot up into a sitting position. Your vision swirls around you, and instinctively, you grab the side of your temple.
- Christ, what the fuck? - you mutter, starting to get up.
That's when you feel some invisible force push down on your arm, causing you to fall back on your ass. Your heart jumps to your throat, because that most definitely was not your imagination. Frozen in spot, you eyes zero in on the front door, the glass rose mocking you from above.
They're close, so close, running seems possible. So, gathering all your strength, you count in your head. And as you hit three, using every bit of power you still have left, you push yourself up and forward. Floorboards creak and splinters jab into your palm, as you throw yourself towards the front door. Your hand wraps around the handle, pushing with all you've got and...
Nothing.
The door doesn't even budge, and you try again, this time adding a shoulder to the mix. The third time you basically throw your entire body onto the door, but it doesn't as much as creak under this assault. Panic, sheer, bloody panic rises in your gut, fingers shaking as you keep fighting with the door handle. Then, something brushes past your neck, a sigh and a gust of cold air. You can feel it, a presence of something, standing right behind you, so close, it's nearly touching your skin.
- Who are you? - your whisper comes out in a huff of steam, and that's when you notice how cold it's gotten around you.
- Unimportant - the word solidifies your every fear, heart jumping right to your throat, as your knuckles whiten from the bone breaking grip you have on the handle.
It's a big house, and an old one. Houses like these had to have another entrance, right? You count to three yet again, taking a quick breath and bolting to the side. You manage to take three steps, before something drags you back, your feet lifting up from the floor. Then, the force tugs at your helpless body and you go flying through the corridor, colliding painfully with the floor.
Fearful eyes flicker through the empty room, searching for your attacker, as a sharp pain blooms where you've hit the wall. Then, something flickers in the corner of your eye. An image in the dust covered surface of a mirror. A scream bubbles up in your throat, as you spot a silhouette of a man, staring at you with an unreadable expression. He knows you've noticed him, pink lips stretching into a mocking smile.
Beautiful, the man from the mirror looked absolutely angelic, as he raised his hand, fingers outstretched towards you, a sinister glint in his eye. Then, you felt it again, a foreign force tugging at you ankle, and before you had the chance to react, a yank sent you sliding on the floor.
Rolling onto your stomach with a loud scream, you tried to stop your body from moving, fingernails digging into the wood, splinters cutting through your skin. Before you know it, you land at the center of the room, feet suddenly locked, as you upper half is dragged upwards. Your eyes flicker desperately, as your whole body rotates slowly, unmoving, hanging in the air like a piece of meat on a hook. Then, it stops, your eyes catch a glint of his blue ones in the mirror, and the wickedness encapsulated in them sends shivers down your spine.
This is it, this is where you are going to die. All for a 20 dollar bet, that was absolutely not worth it.
- Please, please, please... - your mouth mumbles involuntarily, as tears spring in your eyes.
The man smiles a gentle smile, one, that looks almost grotesque in given situation. And then, he stops. His hand drops to his side and you alongside it, your head hitting forcefully against the floor. The world swims around you, as a small gasp leaves your lips. The pulsing pain at the back of your head is like a rythmn, to which small specs of black dance in front of your eyes.
You must've hit your head really hard, because as you stare around the floating room, you can see the man slowly slide out of the mirror. His arm first, a pristine, white shirt covering his lean torso. Then, his legs, dressed in similar, white trousers. Lastly, his head. Blonde locks so soft and shiny even in this oppressing darkness, they almost seem unreal. And in a way, they are.
He takes a couple of steps towards you, kneeling down next to your head. Then, he reaches down and you flinch as his slender fingers touch your cheek. Too real, they feel too real, as they slide up, towards your temple, thumb caressing your brow in such a caring manner you almost fall for it. Almost.
- What are you doing? - your voice is rough and barely audible.
Again, he smiles, and his hand dips behind your head, finding the bleeding wound at the back. He observes with fascination, as your face contorts in pain, when his fingers press down onto the gash.
- I haven't had a visitor in such a long time - he muses, and you instantly notice how good his voice sounds, like a soothing balm to your ears. - It's gotten so lonely here, I'm so glad you came.
A shiver wracks your immobile body, and you clench your teeth, trying to surpress it. He notices, you can guess it by the way his eyebrows raise.
- Pretty, pretty, pretty - he muses with a smile, his wondering hand dragging your own blood down your neck, until it reaches the dip between your collarbones - Your pain looked so pretty.
You can't move, even if you try, and you do, you truly do. There's this invisible force holding you down again. The man shifts his position, bringing his face close to yours, so close, you should feel his breathing, but you don't. His nose drags along your neck, stopping behind your ear, where he inhales your scent with a hum of approval.
- Such pretty skin - he whispers, while his other hand starts to caress your stomach, slowly lifting the shirt up.
Liar.
There are acne scars on your cheeks. Moles and freckles litter your shoulders and chest. Scars from all the years of being an unruly child. A razor burn on your leg, where you tried to shave just a bit too quickly. Yet, despite all that, he seems to be enchanted, as his finger encircles you belly button, scratching the soft hair there, before sliding further down.
- Wait - you mutter, finally regaining some resemblance of consciousness.
- I miss having skin like this - theres a bitter chuckle he tried to surpress, and before you know it, he slides off of you.
You still can't move, chest heaving with effort on the wooden floor. He stands up to his full height. His movements are slow and graceful, like a cat that's circling it's prey. There's something unnerving in his gaze, as he watches you from above, like a hawk ready to strike. You try to move again, fingernails scratching the wooden surface, but beside dragging your nails there is little you can do. This suffocating force keeps you planted firmly on the ground, and you seemingly are powerless to fight it. He notices your struggle, eyes lingering on the muscles moving under your skin. Or, he just likes to watch any expanse of uncovered flesh.
Soon, he reaches the tops of your feet, panic truly settles in. You can't see him as well as you would like to, his silhouette barely in your field of vision. What you can make out, however, is his slender hand rising, figers dainty and delicate, as they spread out in the air above you. Another pull of the unfamiliar force, and you can feel your legs move on their own accord, as if being pulled apart from each other.
- Humans - he sighs, sinking down to his knees in between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your ankles.
Your breath catches in your throat, as you watch him go down, a new feeling of anxiety rising in your throat, one, not entirely unpleasant. You eye him curiously, as his hand traverses the expanse of your calf, your denim shorts giving him quite the reach. There is a long scar on the side of your shin, where, years ago, you fell from the tree and broke your leg, bone sticking out grotesquelly. His fingers poke at it, eyebrows scrunching, as he tests the white, jagged flesh. Then, he inspects the bruises and cuts on your knee. His body moves closer, as he presses his cheek to your leg.
- So fragile, so helpless - he looks at you, blue eyes capturing yours in an iron gaze, and he pushes himself further between your legs.
The spell breaks, the moment his eyes shifts to your belt, the true intention of this strange interaction finally becoming clear to you.
- Wait... - you try to crawl away, muscles tensing on the floor, with no possible escape from the unrelenting force paralyzing your body.
Like a snake, the man slides his body up yours, his torso pressing close to your heaving chest. He's quite beautiful for a ghost, with his sharp features and baby blue eyes. Blonde hair frames his head like a halo, but the smile he offers you, is nothing short of devilish.
- I just want to feel - he whispers it, as if the words should bring you any consolation in this horrible situation, and you try to wiggle yourself from under him, yet again, to no avail.
You watch from the corner of your eye, as his head dips down, nose inhaling the scent of your hair. One, you know smells of cigarettes and some cheap shampoo you picked up at a sale from a drug store. Nothing too exquisite, but the way he downright moans in your ear, makes you feel, like you've used Chanel's new fragrance.
It does something to you, you're ashamed to admit it, but every noise coming from this apparition of a man, makes your stomach flip in the most delicious of ways. So, when his hand finally makes quick work of your zipper, before you feel fear, arousal arises in your gut.
And when his slender fingers cross the threshold of your underwear, falling immediately to your bundle of nerves, as if they were made to find it, your back arches from the floor.
He allows it, this small bit of movements, as he begins to work your body in earnest, fingers dipping lower, testing and prodding the entrance, until you start to beg.
Please fall from your half-open mouth, as his other hand climbs the expanse of your stomach, ghosting touches over your ribs, until it grabs your breast like there's no tomorrow.
He watches your through it all, blue eyes swallowing every scrunch of your brow, every moan, every twitch of your body. You're not sure how someone can look so absolutely fascinated, like he's never done this before, and be this skilled, at the same time.
- Please - you choke out, when he switches the positioning of his palm, to grind into you - Please, don't stop.
- Henry, my name is Henry - he mutters into your ear, and you know exactly, why he fed you this information.
You scream his name, when you come. Your broken voice carrying through the aged corridors, mingling with the sounds of creaking wood, the ticking of the ancient grandfather's clock.
There's barely any time to regain your composure. Your vision swims again, as the man, Henry, removes his fingers from your pants, before standing up again. You watch from the floor, as he rises his hand to the light, observing it for a moment. Then, like a scientist on a mission, he places one finger into his mouth. You can see his jaw work as he tastes you.
Then, just as another fire begins to burn deep in your stomach, you blink.
He's gone, you stare at the ceiling, which is quite closer, than you remember. In fact, your nose almost touches the wooden planks. And just as the realization, that you are actually floating up in the air, hits you, you fall.
Morning light shines on your beaten, tired body. And as you lay on the floor, feeling every bruise and scrape, all you can think of, is the angelic man's spirit, trapped in this tragedy of a house.
And the 20 dollars you've just won.
#my writing#requested#answered#peter ballard x reader#peter ballard#stranger things#vecna x reader#001 x reader#henry creel#enry creel x reader#tw: dark fic#all this build up and for what? for a fingerbang and a concussion?#man's unbelievable#thank you again for leaving a request and yet again so sorry for taking so long
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Rooftop Vigils
Whatever you might think of my "aggressive" attacks on Anti-Scott Sterek and Steter shippers, you have to remember how absolutely aggressive they have been when it comes to twisting the narrative of the show to make Scott a terrible person.
If you listen to them, you will think that Scott obsessed over Allison in Season 1, and one of their favorite pieces of evidence is Scott "stalking" Allison by hanging out on her roof. They take one particular instance of that behavior in Formality (1x11) and they describe it as a habit, and a particularly damning one. This is why they think he's a bad friend to Stiles, because the scene before it, he disagrees with Stiles as Stiles is expressing his desire to see Derek dead, but somehow also use it to show Scott's hostility to Derek, because he states he needs Derek to stop Peter from hurting Allison.
This appears in content all the time. Think of the number of shitty Sterek/Steter shippers who have their Fanon Stiles scold Scott for "stalking" Allison and neglecting what he should be paying attention to. But this requires them to forget the menacing scene at the beginning of the episode where Deaton protects Scott from Peter. On his way out of the Animal Clinic, Peter delivers the same threat he and Derek delivered in the locker room when they violated Scott physically and mentally.
Peter: There are other people who can help me get what I want, Scott. More innocent and far more vulnerable.
Scott: Allison.
So, Scott's not mooning on top of Allison's roof because he likes to sniff her hair (though I'm sure he does); he's doing it to protect her. Peter has threatened Allison directly, and he is not going to stop; he will creep on her at the mall later that same episode. Yes, there's humor in the scene because he falls asleep and falls off the roof.
But this is why people thinking Scott is a terrible character, because they've twisted his desire to protect his innocent girlfriend who has no idea about werewolves or the Hale Fire, from a deranged serial killer who has already threatened him and everyone he cares about. And then they call him a bad student because his grades suffer because he has to do this.
And they know that the production meant this to be heroic. They know it. Turning what the production meant into the opposite is the same thing they do when they insist "Scott is a terrible friend!" to Stiles, but will not -- most likely cannot -- explain what they mean by that. But they do know that Scott protecting his girlfriend from a hot white man who wants to murder her is not what he should be doing.
Damn right, I'm aggressive.
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pink headband
pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader
word count: 3.1k
genre: angst & fluff
summary: after getting in a vicious fight with one of the most recent mutants in New York, you got to your best friend for some fixing up.
warnings: mentions of violence, depictions of blood, graphic injuries, needles, possible death, undressing, pining, kissing
notes: this is my first peter parker fic so i hope you all like it!
It was hard to keep your identity a secret to those around you, but you relished in the fact that one person could understand. That your best friend since childhood could relate to the struggles of living a double life. It was hard, always hard to live this way, but it was worth it. Maybe it was selfish, but the feeling you got everytime after you helped someone or stopped an accident made this double life worth it. And you were helping people, no matter what the media said.
It wasn’t ever boring either, especially when you got to swing around the city attached to your best friend's back. You spent evenings surrounded by orange and pink glows, night skies decorated in navy blue, and early mornings accompanied by fluffy white clouds. Sure, you got to beat people up and save the city, but it was the small moments, the ones where you sat on the top of the Empire State building with Spider-Man, that made it fun.
You and Peter Parker had grown up together, connected at the hip. It started in elementary school when a boy in your class picked on you for your bright pink headband, thinking it was ugly and girly, but Peter came to your rescue, plucking that headband delicately off of your head and intertwining it with his very own brown curls. He wore that bright pink material like it was his birthright, which you started to believe it was as the day went on.
It was since then that you fell in love with Peter Parker. A deep and unconditional love, one you had denied to your parents many times.
You took a deep breath before jumping up, your feet leaving the concrete below and landing silently on Peter’s roof, just outside of his bedroom window. You groaned softly and pulled your mask off of your head, pushing away the feeling that you were going to collapse as your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks. You sucked in the cold night air, feeling like you just couldn’t breathe enough for your lungs to fill.
Pushing yourself onto your feet, you limped to his open window, the glow of his lamp a stark contrast to the darkness outside. The pain in your left side spread throughout your body viciously. You dropped to your knees, throwing your mask inside while taking in the view of Peter at his desk, typing something hurriedly while his gaze flicked between the monitor and the keyboard, “Hey bug boy.”
Peter whipped his head around and smiled fondly, a familiar feeling creeping through his chest, “Hey cat girl,” He greeted before taking in your form, along with the blood pooling through your grey suit, “Woah. What the hell happened to you?”
The fondness battled with the current pain you were feeling. Peter’s smile just did that to you, made you happy. He was contagious, like the most fatal flu.
You let out a pained laugh as you crawled through his window, falling to the floor with a thud, “It’s just a scratch…” You joked, pressing your gloved hand to your side. You were careful not to let your metal claws make it any worse.
You and Peter were quite the duo, one of you having been bitten by a radioactive spider while touring Oscorp, and the other having been clawed by a radioactive leopard while studying experimental serums, at Oscorp. It was fate for you to be a team, even before you knew it. It took you both a while to tell each other who you were, and it only came to light when you both ended up in the same place at the same time, fighting with one of the many unhappy mutants in New York.
Peter rushed from his desk chair over to you, kneeling down next to your badly beaten body, “God, why didn’t you call me?” He questioned, his voice full of concern. He pressed his large, calloused hand over your own, applying a bit more pressure than you had been previously.
It was entirely the wrong time, but you couldn’t push away the warm feeling that filled your body.
“Oh, just stitch me up, Parker.” You said, hissing at the pain coming from your wound. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, breathing deep, shallow, “Don’t think Aunt May would appreciate it if you let me die here.”
Peter rolled his eyes and removed his now bloody hand from your side, “Humor is still intact.” He quipped, moving around the room until he could reach under his bed, pulling out a first aid kit for times like these, “You’re gonna have to take your suit off.”
You smirked a bit and hummed, not moving from your position, eyes still closed, “Could’a just told me you wanted to get into my pants.” Your jokes left Peter grimacing at you, despite the fact that he was the exact same way, “Is your room cold? Feels cold. Really cold…”
Peter moved back over to you and set the first aid kit down, cupping your face in his hands, “Hey, I need you to stay with me. Can’t have you blacking out on me, alright?” He lifted your head and sighed when you opened your eyes back up, “Alright…”
You smiled softly and lifted your free hand to his cheek, stroking the side of his face with pure care, despite the streaks of blood you were leaving behind, “I’m sorry, shouldn’t have left you to deal with this.” You whispered, letting out a hiss when you adjusted your body.
Peter shakes his head with ferocity, refusing the implications you were letting sit in the air, “No, it’ll be okay.” He said and slipped his hands down to the collar of your suit, stretching it with a grunt before slipping it down your shoulders.
“Pete,” You whispered, the pressure on your gash faltering a bit, “Peter.” You lifted your other hand to his wrist, stopping his movements to his frustration, “Hey, I’ve left a puddle on your floor…Don’t think there’s much coming back from that. It’s okay.”
It wasn’t that you wanted to give up hope, or to just let yourself waste away into the hardwood floor of Peter Parker's bedroom, but you were tired. You were so tired. Stars lined the corners of your eyes and your head felt heavy, weighing down like a bowling ball on your shoulders. You wanted to sleep.
Peter looked up at you and then down to the pool of blood under your body, undoubtedly staining his floor, “Stop.” He begged, getting up to grab a pair of sharp scissors off of his desk, “You’re not dying in my room, okay? I don’t care if that’s what you think is gonna happen, but it's not. You’re gonna let me stitch you up and take care of you. Understand? After that you can fight with me all you want about whether or not you’re gonna die, but not right now. Not until I fix you up.”
You took a deep breath, the pain coursing through your body slowly numbing, “Yes, sir.” You responded with a low breath, watching as Peter neared you once more. He crouched down, angling the scissors so he could cut through the stretchy material of your suit, “Gonna have to make me a new one…”
The charcoal grey material was difficult to cut through, despite the scissors being sharp, but Peter managed a straight line down to your belly button, exposing your beige sports bra underneath. He dropped the scissors to the floor and pulled the suit down your arms, letting the ruined material hang around your hips, dipping into the puddle of your own blood.
You hummed and pushed the sleeves and gloves off your hands, looking down at the deep gash just under the left side of your ribs, “Oh man…” You whispered softly, taking in the brutal sight.
As you examined the wound, Peter opened the first aid kit, pulling out some gauze and bandage tape, as well as a needle and thread. Your eyes flicked to his face, watching as he pulled his brows together while quickly pushing the thread through the needle.
Even in moments like these, he was still so beautiful.
“Okay, I’m gonna wipe you off a bit.” Peter informed you before grabbing a clean cloth from inside the kit, reaching out and lighting wiping up the blood around your cut. When you threw your head back and groaned in pain, his eyes softened, “I’m sorry.”
Peter had patched you up many times before, but none of those times had been this bad. You had never been laying on his floor, nearly bleeding out while he attempted to save your life. He wasn’t going to give up though, not on you.
In all honesty, Peter loved you. He had loved you for years, he just never felt that was something he could tell you.
You shook your head, tensing your jaw and gritting your teeth together, “Just get it over with, Parker.” You hissed. The anger caused by your pain wasn’t directed at Peter, not at all, but you couldn’t fully hide the way you wanted to cry out.
Peter sucked in a deep breath and nodded while reaching out, setting his free hand to lightly push the skin together before slipping the needle through.
After minutes filled with pained groans and gentle tugs from the thread, you were finally closed up. Peter was taping some gauze over the stitches in order to assure that it wouldn't get infected.
You were still lightheaded and felt like you needed to sleep, still propped up against the wall, “Thank you.” You whispered as you watched Peter, his hands moving swiftly over your abdomen while his brows were pulled together.
Peter glanced up at you, nodding, “Yeah yeah, let's get you on the bed.” He slipped his hands under your armpits and stood you up, eliciting a groan, “We’ll get you in some clean clothes.”
You smirked lazily, raising a brow while Peter laid you on his bed, setting your head against his pillows so you would be comfortable, “First on your bed and now getting my clothes off? Never thought I’d see this side of you, Pete.” Your voice wavered and shook, clearly showing how out of it you were despite the fake flirting you were attempting to do.
Peter pushed your cheek slightly and rolled his eyes at you, walking to his closet so he could grab you something to wear, “You’re annoying when you’ve lost a lot of blood.” He commented, shaking his brunette locks.
You just hummed and nodded in agreement, carefully attempting to push the rest of your torn apart suit down your legs. Peter rounded with a large shirt in his hands, “Help.” You uttered, pouting while staring down at your tangled legs.
“You can’t do anything, huh?” He joked before sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Let me get your shirt on first.” Peter told you as he shook the shirt, leaning towards you. He rolled it up a bit and pulled it over your head, slipping your arms in one by one.
You let Peter manipulate your body as he needed in order to dress you properly. He took the time to ease his hands along your arms, his touches laced with care and love. The shirt fit your body nicely, covering the stitches as though the assault never happened.
You sat back comfortably as Peter slipped the suit down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear and his shirt, “You’re pretty.” You complimented, lifting a hand to his hair, stroking his head softly.
Peter looked to you, dropping your suit to his floor, “And you need sleep.” He commented, pulling his covers up to your waist, “I can get you some pain killers and some water.”
You shook your head, grabbing Peter’s hand in your own, “Don’t leave me.” You whispered, staring into the boy's brown eyes, “Please, Peter? Just wanna sleep.”
Peter watched you for a moment, taking in how your skin was paler than usual, how your eyes were dim and tired, “I’ll just be at my desk, then.” He suggested and gave you a small smile.
“No, I want you to lay with me.” You informed him, your voice a bit more demanding now as you painfully shifted over, opening the covers for Peter, “Please just lay with me. Make sure my heartbeat doesn’t fade and my breathing doesn’t stop, or whatever you want to do just…Just lay with me, okay?”
You were emotional. You felt as though if Peter refused to lay with you, to hold you and remind you that you were here, your life would surely fade. You needed the warmth of his body to keep your negativity at bay.
“Okay,” Peter agreed and slid in beside you, pulling the covers up both of your bodies. He looked at you and opened his arm. You immediately laid on your side, carefully curling into Peter’s body, head on his chest and arm over his waist. Peter could tell you were tense, unsure, “Hey, you’re okay.”
You nodded and held him tightly, closing your eyes, “Don’t let me die.” You whispered. It was meant to be a joke, to lift the mood and lighten the tension, but it sounded like a plea.
Peter pressed a kiss to your head, breathing you in, “Never.”
-
You woke up to movement underneath you along with the sound of shuffling, causing you to quickly sit up and pop open your eyes, pain striking you from the fast movement. You let out a strangled gasp and held your hand to your side.
You finally took in your surroundings, seeing a startled Peter Parker on the bed next to you along with the glow illuminating the room due to the orange sky outside. Those were the only notable things.
“Did you fuck up your stitches?” Peter asked and sat up, his eyes landing on your shocked face after examining the hand on your side, “Hey, are you okay?”
You just nodded in a confused manner, turning your attention down to your hand, “Yeah,” You responded, looking back up to Peter and then around his room, “Just forgot where I was…”
Letting your hand drop from your side, you lowered yourself back onto the bed, pushing your head into the fluffy pillows behind you. You stared up at the ceiling, somewhat shocked at the fact that you woke up. You didn’t think you would be here, the pain a testament to the fact that you were very much alive, and very injured.
Peter cleared his throat from next to you and sheepishly smiled, “Um, I got Aunt May to bring in some advil and water,” He began, getting up from the bed and walking over to his desk, grabbing the two things, “Took me a bit to convince her you had a migraine, but you know, it worked. Had to push her out, lock the door.”
You nodded slightly, “I’d rather morphine.” You stated dryly before sitting back up, pushing yourself against the headboard. Your hands found the two extra strength painkillers as well as the large glass of water, “Thanks.”
Peter sat on the edge of the bed, watching you closely, “You have to drink all of that, by the way,” His smile caused your demeanour to soften, a wave of that familiar and undeniable feeling coursing through you, “doctor’s orders.”
You hummed and popped the two pills in your mouth before chugging the water, your stomach happily accepting the needed hydration. Your hands wrapped around the empty glass and settled in your lap, staring down at the condensation dripping along the length of the glass.
You felt this need, this need to admit everything to Peter. It was like the near death experience opened you up to completely telling him the truth, to revealing why it was him you decided to see. Why it was him you wanted to spend your last moments with. Peter was the boy you had loved since he wore your pink headband, since he defended you against bullies. Your love had only strengthened when you reached highschool, becoming the muse of most of his photographs.
“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked, staring at you with interested eyes. The brown saucers examined your face as if you were an unknown creature, one living in the depths of the ocean that he has just discovered.
You took a deep breath, staring at him with your brows pulled together. You were building up the courage to just do it, to just tell him you loved him and always had. To tell him that he was it for you.
The words refused to spill past your lips though, held back like how a dam would block the flow of a river. Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to Peters in a feverish kiss, quick and needy.
Peter was shocked, unable to kiss back due to the pure wave of confusion taking over his body. He frowned when you pulled away, noticing the terrified expression on your face, eyes wide and lips parted. Peter breathed deeply, regaining his composure, “Wait.”
And with that, Peter leaned back to you, settling his hands on the sides of your face, his fingertips sliding past your hairline. He pressed his plush lips back to your chapped ones, kissing you slow and steady. It conveyed many emotions; fondness, longing, care, love. You kissed Peter back, the years of crushing and loving him surfacing, urging you to press your lips hard against his own.
When you pulled away for air, despite the fact that you swore you would let his lips steal away every breath, you smiled, “I love you.” You blurted out, not caring at this point about the rejection. You almost died in this boy's arms, you doubted he would throw you out now.
Peter watched you, sitting in the admission before a childish grin spread along his lips, “You love me?” He asked, wanting to clarify before he said anything that could embarrass himself. When you nodded, he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, “I love you.”
Your eyes softened, pure joy and happiness spreading through you, “Really?” It was Peter's turn to nod now, prompting you to discard the empty glass on the bed and wrap your arms around the boy's neck, hugging him tightly, “Oh, Peter.”
The brunette wrapped an arm around your good side, pushing you close to his chest, “Ever since I wore that stupid pink headband.”
#peter parker x you#peter parker x reader#andrew peter parker#peter parker#peter parker x y/n#peter parker fic#andrew garfield#andrew garfield spiderman#spiderman x reader#the amazing spiderman#spiderman
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Hi! Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if I may request something for Father Figure Frank Castle? May I request Father Figure Frank Castle/The Punisher x Archer daughter reader (shes like Kate bishop) 100% platonic
Frank Castle
W/ Archer Daughter
Reader: female
Type:Headcanons + short scenarios
Notes: Peter, Kate, Pietro, Clint and Green arrow Cameo
Warnings: none
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He actually thought it was funny at first
Seeing you with such a weapon,
But when he sees you use it
Frank's impressed none the less
And is also glad you can protect yourself
Goes to all your tournaments even if he's gotta hide a bit
Definitely helps you set up a scope on your bow
Only allows you to come along for "missions" if you stay far and out of sight
Haha bow Sniping time
Fought Kate Bishop and Hawkeye?
OH ABSOLUTELY
You wrecked both of them 101%
That was till you're all on the same team
You still rocked there shit though
"You're like...super cool and super good looking."
"Um." Y/n spoke, "thanks..."
Basically Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson but you got bows, and your not lawyers.
Still pretty cool though
I know Pietro, Kate, and Peter time lines don't all line up correctly but we gonna make it happen anyways.
Kate's 101% your best friend, and the only one you only get to talk about "work" to thats not Frank.
When it's just you and Frank you often watched from the roofs, snipping out any near by enemies
You don't exactly have the money to buy arrows or bows, so everythings hand made
He always patches you up after bows you were building snapped in half and right in your face
You're intials are carved into the bows and so are his.
Father daughter bounding; making weapons! Yay!
Yet another mistake in the teamwork section you're knocked over after knocking and arrow and groaning as you lay on you're back
"Bet you didn't see that coming" he laughed, catching a glimpse of the teen your age, he was handsome, but soon he was gone
"Yay..." y/n Groaned, "You better run pretty boy..."
"Y/n?" Clint asked, "What the hell you doing?"
"Pretty fast boy, double take...don't tell dad."
"White hair."
"Yep... " Y/n spoke sitting up, "nope gonna stay down."
So now your introduced to everyone.
You bet Pietro got his ass beat by Frank before though.
"Wait wait! You're in my bio chem class!"
"Peter Parker!?"
"Yeah! Hey!" He laughed nervously jazz hands in the air.
Great: there's more kids now
Clint and Frank being dads against there wills
But you'll always be Frank's #1 priority, it's not playing favorites- well- it's just different
Like burning building? You inside? Runs in
Bullet coming towards you despite having armour? Jumps infront of you
Will use your own bow against you if he has too
What? Found you and Pietro making out on a roof top?
Definitely shoots an arrow way to close to comfort, lucky shots.
You actually teach him how to use it just in case.
God your so bossy when you teach, he actually teases you about it.
He'll never be as good as you.
Archer Teir list:
The best of the best: Hawkeye/Clint Barton
Im basically the best of the best but too young: Y/n Castle
Im just right behind: Kate
Rather just not: Peter, Pietro
Would stab you with your own arrow instead: Frank Castle
What? What's that? Someone trying to make a move on your dad
Arrow
Thats all
Probally fought Green Arrow at some point
Eating things off your arrows, roasted Marshmallows, an apple you skewed, idk a hot dog.
Super unsanitary but you still do it
You're bow because its hand wood crafted by you and ur pops, has alot of carvings in it due to being board
You bet Pietro's initials and yours are carved in it with a heart
For you're birthday Kate actually surpised you with a super super fucking expensive bow
Frank won't say it; but damn did he love that wooden bow you guys made together.
Lots of good memories.
"Oh...kate. it's great but-"
"Oh! No! No! You don't have to use it! It's back up! I know your's is like super special!"
You're heart 😭
Peter also like made you web arrows, which your super excited about
And Pietro felt kinda stupid, he made this little beaded flowers for you for your bow.
You put it on right away and kiss him, but Frank drags you away as you complain.
Frank purposely separates you and Pietro
But now he's stuck between you guys making lovey eyes at one another
And you force him to stay there: he picked this battle: he lost
It's almost like a little family dinner real late at night at some crappy dinner.
You'd never think some wooden sticks and a stick with a string on it would get you so far in life, make you so happy
"Wow can shoot an arrow at a target from 1000 feet but cant make the paper goal."
You're determined to flick that peice of hard bacon inebtween Peter's little finger goal
And when you finally do it the whole tables celebrating you
"Thank you! Thank you! Kiss for the winner-"
"No-"
"Damn it!"
Yeah this is the life: even if it knocks you down sometimes. You're glad Archery's given you thr chance to built more upon the father daughter realtionship you have with Frank
After long missions you'll lay your head either on his shoulder on in his lap he tell you: "you did good kid. You did good kid" always makes you sleep easy
Say a bad dream happened: like you almost lost him, so you're 17 year old ass will go check on him and end up just sleeping in his bed with him he's holding you proactively
Even if you're 80 years old your still his little girl.
And he knows. He knows you can protect yourself, bow and arrow and all.
It doesn't stop him from wanting to protect you.
#frank castle x female reader#dad! frank castle#frank castle fluff#frank x reader#frank castle#marvel frank castle#marvels frank castle#marvel x reader#marvel headcanons#frank castle x reader#daughter reader#frank x daughter reader
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Is there anything specific to figuring out what to write for the start of a story? People say like “start while the characters are doing something” and it’s good advice but idk how to figure out *what* they’d be doing. I loveee your writing and clearly you know how to get past this so..
Great question! Thanks for reaching out :)
What people mean when they give that advice isn't have the characters be making a sandwich (although that is a great option) it just means have your character already immersed in the world. Don't wait to give them a thumbs up that they can go.
For example, using my own writing, lets look at what I consider to be one of the worst openings and one of the best:
So in If Lost, Please Return To Peter (which I have actually edited out the worst of this like 2 years ago, when it was posted and was the bare bones it was awful), here's the opening paragraph:
"Peter is pretty terrible at making friends."
and like this part is good! It asks a question. Why is peter terrible at making friends? Why are we thinking about this? How is this relevant to what's going on?
and then it immediately gets bogged down by the following paragraph:
"Okay, understatement: Peter and making friends crosses over that line of "beyond horrible" that hits that stage where other people are embarrassed for him. It's wondrous. Honestly, he doesn't even know how to approach people; Ned accidentally dumped his jug of water on Peter's painting when they were in second grade and, feeling guilty, Ned had followed him around apologizing (though Peter had long forgiven him) and it sort of moved on beyond that to actual friendship. Michelle just started showing up wherever he and Ned were towards the beginning of the school year and acted like it was a coincidence."
Why do we care about this? We don't. It drags the story. It's not relevant to what's going on. And what is going on in this scene that is the point/task I want the characters to do? Loki is on top of a roof about to jump and Peter is going to talk him out of it. It's a really heavy scene. Opening with something light-hearted wasn't a bad choice, but the problem comes here:
it takes me 5 paragraphs to have Peter do anything, which is yawn. This paragraph that I'm pointing to should have been the opening sentence because PETER IS DOING SOMETHING. We are ENGAGED in the story. I could have put the following five paragraphs literally anywhere else in this scene and it would have worked so much better. He literally just thinks for paragraphs and paragraphs at a time.
Like to be clear this isn't unreadable. People will and do make it past terrible openings. Clearly. I wouldn't have nearly the ao3 following I do if they didn't, lol.
Okay, so we have that.
then there's FOUR MORE PARAGRAPHS OF THOUGHT BEFORE WE HAVE ANOTHER ACTION
so we are now like 8-9 paragraphs into the story (this would be page 3-4) and Peter has done this:
Thought and thought and thought (which is bad because he's not distressed and has no reason to be caught up in his head)
Yawned
fired a web
and said a single line of dialog.
It takes until almost page 5 before Peter and Loki interact. Which was the task of the scene. the Point. I know when I was younger and more inexperienced, a writer I knew told me that the story couldn't start until page 3 cause you needed to know the character, so I felt an obligation to just ramble and ramble until I got there before finally feeling relief that the story could pick up. Like if you go read the rest of the one-shot, the pacing is much better. Because that's what the problem of this opening is: the pacing. That's why it's important to have your character start with doing something because it helps with the pacing. Usually that something the character is doing is a task they need to complete and once that task is over, the opening scene is also over.
so compare that scene in the one-shot to this one from Scar Tissue, with is an Avatar the last airbender fic I'm working on right now. Chapter 1 is one of my favorite openings I've ever done.
"Despite Aang’s frustrated insistence ten minutes earlier, Sokka is not beach moping. He’s sitting, calmly, thinking very hard about how miserable he is. There’s a difference. And it’s not even a beach. Agna Qel’a doesn’t have anything that really passes for a beach anyway, just what feels like an endless amount of docks and ice, so there."
So this is the opening paragraph. The character didn't start doing something. Sokka is not making a sandwich. But what I HAVE done to pull the reader in is two things
a) I've made it funny. People are automatically drawn into something that's a little funny. And it also answers the question of whether or not our senses of humor are going to match like immediately. I have a really dark sense of humor in writing that not everyone enjoys and this subconsciously answers that question right away.
b) I've made you ask a question. Why is Sokka beach moping? What is beach moping?
c) Sokka is already tethered down. He mentions that he's been talking to Aang, which implies that this scene has not existed inside of a void. Something happened right before the scene started. In my acting class, my teacher refers to this as the "before moment." What happened BEFORE the scene started? This is a great question to ask yourself when you start an opening scene. Because the before moment lets you know why you are starting it at that exact moment.
Okay, good first paragraph, then it continues:
"Not beach moping.
Impossible to be beach moping, technically.
“Are you still beach moping?” Katara, behind him, already sounds exhausted. More than that, she sounds pre-done with Sokka’s feelings, and they’ve barely spoken today. This is just some task she needs to check off before she can go to sleep, and the idea of being that much of an annoyance makes something desperate curl in Sokka’s stomach with panic.""
^ What did I do here that was different than the Peter one? Read that, then read this:
Okay, understatement: Peter and making friends crosses over that line of "beyond horrible" that hits that stage where other people are embarrassed for him. It's wondrous. Honestly, he doesn't even know how to approach people; Ned accidentally dumped his jug of water on Peter's painting when they were in second grade and, feeling guilty, Ned had followed him around apologizing (though Peter had long forgiven him) and it sort of moved on beyond that to actual friendship. Michelle just started showing up wherever he and Ned were towards the beginning of the school year and acted like it was a coincidence."
Peter rambles on something that is not relevant. Does painting ever come up in that one-shot? No. It does not. In the Avatar fic, Sokka beach moping is the point of the scene and is the inciting incident of hte story. The task I've just assigned Sokka is a conversation, which is the EXACT SAME TASK i gave Peter in the one-shot, but unlike the peter oneshot, it takes Sokka like one and a half paragraphs to do something:
and Sokka's is relevant to what's going on. The conversation has started. Peter still has like 4 more pages to go with rambling and doing nothing. The reason I chose these two scenes to compare and contrast specifically is because they both have the same thing: they're really really thought heavy. But the difference is how relevant those thoughts are to the story I'm trying to tell. For Sokka, it's that he's depressed about anxious about the aftermath of a battle and losing his girlfriend. For Peter, it's...not that. HE thinks about paintings with his friends, he thinks about May, he thinks about ANYTHING EXCEPT THE POINT OF THE SCENE.
If you've ever heard someone complain that it's taking forever to get to the point, this is what they mean. It's not so much that the scene is long or rambly, it's how relevant it is to your story. Sokka is beach moping. When Sokka's conversation about WHY he has been beach moping is over (whether or not he reveals that to Katara isn't really relevant), that scene is over. The point of that scene is that Sokka is moping and BECAUSE he is moping, he finds Iroh and Zuko floating in the water. It sets up Sokka as a character FIRST. Then the inciting incident of the story. PEter's current mental state wasn't set up, which is what those rambly thoughts should have done instead of tell us childhood stories.
Here's another opening that I really like from Not One For Chocolate Anymore, I See: (why does this title have I see, has it always had I see?? lol)
anyway, so this communicates the same thing: Setting, character, TASK.
They're in a walmart parking lot on Christmas morning, very early, it's cold, the character is Tony, Tony is looking for Peter. When Tony finds Peter, the opening scene is over.
Same thing in Scar Tissue:
Setting, character, task:
Setting: Agna Qel'a, the dock, it's cold.
Character: Sokka
Task: Beach mope, talk to Katara, deal with panic attack.
Ideally, the first couple of paragraphs (within the first page or so) should provide those three things ^
which is why this opening didn't work
setting: ??????????????????
character: Peter
Task: ??????????????????????????????
I don't love the opening of You Screamed For So Long We Forgot To Care Anymore and it's kind of because it takes a second for the story to roll forward:
Setting: ?????????
Character: Clint
Task: Calling Jane, see where Thor is
---
TL:DR
Give your character something to do that immediately engages them in the story. Don't wait around to get to the point bogged down with useless details. Give us the setting - even if the setting is that the character doesn't know where they are - who the story is about, and the task the character is trying to do. Even if that's making a sandwich.
But also bare in mind that people will and do read through some of the worst openings on the planet and then later find those same terrible openings deeply comforting. (If anyone changed the terrible opening on my beloved fics that I have the sentence structure memorized on, I would be devastated.) Most people make it at least half-way through chapter 1 of fics before giving up, so as long as you can engage them by that point, you're good. I don't love all my openings and it IS something I am still learning to do better because it's definitely a skill you need to develop. But guess what! You CAN develop it. What really helped me was when I started paying attention to the openings of my favorite fics and figuring out what they were doing and then mimicking it.
A huge part of becoming a better writer is deconstructing writing and then regurgitating it in your own style. Did that answer your question? You can say no, absolutely, but I just want to make sure I was actually helpful. XD
---
ON FIGURING OUT WHAT THEY'D BE DOING: setting up your character's current place, then the inciting incident. Remember, the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic (first scene-ish of a one-shot) is setting up WHY the story happens. So what they'd be doing should be relevant to why the story happens. That's why I had Sokka on the beach, so he could find Iroh and Zuko. THat's why I had Peter out fighting crime so he could find Loki and they'd talk. And Tony was in the parking lot to find Peter, and etc, etc. The task they're trying to accomplish is the reason that scene exists at all, if that makes sense?
#writing#galaxy's writing#writing tips#writing advice#as always please remember you can ask me anything about writing my ask box is always open :) <3#anon answered
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Leonardo (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)- Chapter 6
This is the first time that you’ve actually counted down the days.
“Everything okay? You’re a little more quiet than usual.”
Peter is walking you home, and you nod.
“Everything is fine.”
That’s far from the case, but it’s not like you can tell him anything.
Even if he believed you, there’s nothing he can do.
You stop right at your door, pulling him into a hug. He looks a bit confused, and you notice the light flush that takes his cheeks when he pulls back.
“What was that for?”
“For being my friend.” You respond.
He smiles.
“Then I should have been the one to hug first. You’re awesome. Even if you look scary sometimes."
You can’t help but laugh at that. You’re gonna miss his dorky personality.
“Goodbye Peter.”
You send him one last smile as you head to the door. He gives a wave.
“Goodbye..”
He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like the feeling that follows.
Once you’re inside, you look at your watch.
“I still have a few hours.”
You’d already planned out your day.
After a nice little movie night with your family, you kiss both your parents on the top of their heads, slipping out from the space in between them on the couch.
You slide the blanket over their shoulders as you head to the door, taking off into the night.
Leo is about to be done with his shift. You know exactly where to meet him. It’s a nice little spot not too far into the city. It takes you a moment to get up on the fire escape of the building. You plant yourself comfortably there just waiting.
You can’t stop your mind from drifting to that time he’d basically kidnapped you to get answers. It makes you smile.
You hear the shuffling in the background, and you fully expect it to be Leo. But there are three other beings on the roof with you. You rise slowly, clearly surprised. Leo is the last to land. When he does, the three of them bow.
“Thank you.”
They say in unison.
“F-For what?”
“For Leo, he told us everything. You risked your life for him. You saved our brother.” Donnie says. You can tell from their expressions that they are all conveying the same. Leo grins.
This is not what you had expected at all.
Leo holds his hand out for you.
“Let’s go.”
His expression is so warm.
“Where are we going?”
“To our secret hideout, where else!” Mikey shouts in excitement. He flips right over the building and they all follow.
“One last adventure?”
It’s a beautiful sentiment. You try not to let yourself get too emotional.
“One last adventure.” You agree, taking his hand.
It’s not so much the trip, but being close to him has always felt amazing. This time, maybe you’re a little more grateful for it. You make it back to their home in record time. Splinter greets you at the entrance, and Mikey gives a grand introduction. You find yourself laughing at every word that comes out of the quirky male’s mouth. After a few games and an unnatural amount of pizzas, Leo is leading you away.
It’s certainly a day well spent.
“Did I surprise you?”
He really did.
“Definitely.”
Leo smiles, nudging your shoulder as you step into his room.
Your eyes drifted over his room. It was similar to what you would expect from any teenage boy. Except everything was so tidy. Books packed neatly. Bed made. A cute little bonsai tree laying so delicately trimmed at the side.
“I’m starting to think you’re a serial killer, Leo.” He laughed out loud, and you couldn’t help but do the same.
“Just because I prefer order doesn't make me a killer. I’m sure if you saw Raph’s room you’d be grateful you can see the floor of mine.”
Well that was probably the truth.
You moved to his bed, laying down slowly as you stared at the ceiling. Leo’s eyes moved to the clock.
“11:30pm.”
He hadn’t realized just how late it was. He understood now that you had very little time left.
The smile that once adorned your face changed.
“I can take you back.”
It was a whisper from Leo. You rolled over in the bed, and when your helpless gaze fell on him, his heart clenched. You shook your head.
“I-I don’t want them to find me like that. I already gave my goodbyes. Could you…c-could you stay with me..?”
You were pleading, and Leo slowly discarded his weapons, placing them at the side as he moved over climbing into the bed with you. He didn’t reach for you, not immediately. He wanted you to be the one to tell him what you were comfortable with. When you rolled into his arms, he knew, wrapping them around you.
Your shoulders shook as you cried, and Leo did his best not to shed a tear, because he knew if he broke down, then that would be it. You needed his strength, and that was what he’d provide. One last time.
One last wish.
“I don’t want to die.”
The very last thought that seemed to run through your mind before you began to drift off.
There's a soft golden glow that your body is starting to give off.
Leo just held on tighter.
#leonardo#reincarnation#trust#truth#care#leo x reader#angst#finaldays#tmnt leonardo#family#feelings#powers
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