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psithurista · 10 months

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approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

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The back of your head is torturously itchy.

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap.

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside.

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.  

Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability.

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing.

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.” His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius.

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking.

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.”

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles.

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers.

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken.

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful.

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer.

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline.

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.  It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.  “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified.   “It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt.

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch.

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap.

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing.

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him.

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you.

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him.

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours.

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest.

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles.

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #tasm fanfic #tasm fanfiction #tasm imagine #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fanfiction

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exist4me · 1 year

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Distraction

cw: grinding, cumming in pants, dirty talk18+ minor DNI

word count: 595

Peter was easily distracted by your presence, your smell, your voice, and your beautiful face. It can make the rest of the world disappear. His heightened senses didn’t help at all. You were the center of his universe. However, he needed to finish up an important work assignment which left you in the living room of his apartment watching TV and him in his room. You sighed, bored alone missing Peter. He’s been hauled up in his room for hours working without break. You left the living room to meet Peter in his room.

“Babe can I come in?” you asked after knocking on his door.

“Come in”

You opened the door, entered the room, you closed it behind you. He turned his chair to face you, smiling tenderly.

“What’s up baby?” he asked

“I miss you” you pout, walking up to him. He whispered come here, patting his thighs. You straddle him in his desk chair. His firm arms wrapped around your waist as you place your arms around his neck.

Resting your head on his shoulder you ask him, “ Baby, are you done yet? I’m bored.”

He’s stroking his thumb on your hipbone, “Not yet baby. I’m almost done.” you leave small kisses around his neck and behind his ears begging him to hurry up and play with you. He whines into your ears, feeling his warm breath on your face, “You're not playing fair”

You laugh. He looks at you lovingly, drinking in your soft joyful laughter. He leaves a short sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. Looking up at his beautiful delicate brown eyes, your lips met in a gentle embrace that quickly turned into an intense heated battle. You grind in his lap, biting his bottom lip, he lets out a faint gasp. Your tongue meets his, deepening the kiss, and his hips jerk up. You can feel his hard cock grazing your heated center. Moaning, you slowly pulled away, breathing deeply into each other's faces. You move to suck and nibble on his right ear, and he whimpers weakly, groping your ass, and pushing you further into his tented crotch. You lick and suck on his neck down to where his shoulders meet leaving a wet trail. You push and roll your hips down into him savoring the sounds he makes.

“Don’t you miss this baby?” you teased. “Don’t you want to feel your wet pussy? It’s all yours to take, play with, and cum in. I miss your thick, heavy cock. Please play with me. Let me hear you” Peter groans deeply. He whines as you bend down to suck his nipples through his shirt.

“Fuck, baby…. You're gonna make me cum.” Peter cried out. You kiss him deeply and messily, grinding harder into his cock you feel it throbbing and twitching under you. You can feel your own panty wet and drenched, sticking to you.

“Baby, please keep rubbing me….please, please. I'm so close. Let me cum please.” he begged. You suck on his Adam's apple, grinding and moving your hips intensely on his cock.

“Baby, I-” Peter mewled, throwing his head back. You feel him grope your ass forcefully, his hips jerking up in a powerful thrust as he cums. You hear him moan and whimper above you. Peter comes undone intensely, soiling his pants with cum. You smile at his dazed face proudly. You’re both breathing heavily after grinding and jerking on each other. Peter looks down at you smiling goofily.

“I could take a break,” he said. You let out a loud, hearty laugh.

#andrew garfield #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm peter parker #peter parker #tasm!peter x you #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!

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petcr3 · 2 years

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I Wanna Dance With Somebody | Teacher!TASM!Peter Parker x Teacher!Reader

summary: Peter Parker is your fellow teacher best work friend, but when you ask him to help chaperone the middle school dance, you’re both forced to confront your feelings.

word count: 5.7k (i... cannot believe i’ve done this)

warnings: fem!reader, students getting too nosy about their teachers’ business, middle school dance content lmao. nothing too crazy. VERY slightly suggestive comments at the end, L/N = last name

a/n: this is my long-awaited (perhaps, lol) contribution to @spidervee ‘s April AU Event. now, as @p3mybeloved calls it, a May-U. Please enjoy!

Voices rise to fill the auditorium and you feel an immense swell of pride as you conduct your students through the last few measures of the song you’ve been working on. They cut off perfectly and the air crackles for a few seconds with silent excitement.

“Yes!” you cry, “that’s awesome, guys! I’m really impressed.” Your fifth and sixth graders beam at you from the risers in the auditorium and you can’t help but beam right back as triumphant chatter starts to build. You’ve been working on a song called Cantar! and the kids have been struggling to nail some overlapping harmonies. It’s admittedly a tough thing to pull off, but you’ve all been working at it and today it’s finally where you need it to be.

It’s Marcus, one of your only students in the bass section, who speaks up and alerts you to an unexpected visitor at the back of the auditorium.

“What’s up Mr. Parker?” he says. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter leaning in the doorway.

“They sound great, Ms. L/N,” he says, and you grin before turning your attention back to the kids.

“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” you prompt, earning a decidedly cacophonous response. You sigh.

Any opportunity to yell indoors.

You’re too pleased with your choir to really be frustrated, so you just shake your head and check your watch. It’s about time to dismiss them, but when you look up, you see that they’re already filing into the audience to get their bookbags.

“Okay,” you say in your teacher voice, exhaling a defeated but amused sigh, “well, thank you to those of you who are waiting for me to actually dismiss you.”

You’re met with a few wide-eyed stares, especially from the members of the choir who are already halfway down the aisle. “It’s okay!” you say, “Just please wait for me to dismiss you next time. If I’m running behind and I don’t realize, just raise your hand and tell me.”

“Okay! Thanks Ms. L/N!” calls out one of your students, Fae.

“No problem,” you respond with a chuckle. “Bye guys!” You wave as the rest of the students file out, weaving around Peter. You hear him call out after one of your sixth graders.

“You still owe me last week’s homework, Katie! I need you to get it to me by Friday, okay?” There’s no harshness in his voice, just an earnest desire for her to do well, keep her grades up. That warms your heart.

“Bet, Mr. Parker!” she replies, already halfway out the door before catching herself, “UH–– I mean–– okay!” Peter laughs, surprised, and hangs his head. You can hear Katie and her friends cackling as they head for their next class and the last few students file out.

“You walked right into that one,” you say, heaving your bag up onto your shoulder.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he shrugs, a little laughter still playing at his lips. You don’t realize your gaze is lingering on his mouth until you look up and his eyes are on you, brow a little furrowed. You barely have time to feel the heat that floods your chest when he speaks up–– thank god. “That bag looks like it’s a million pounds,” he says, “what are you carrying in there?” You let out a laugh, relieved he doesn’t seem to have caught you staring.

“Oh, you know,” you reply breezily, “rocks.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The two of you navigate the busy halls toward the teacher’s lounge, saying hello to a few students who perk up when they see Peter or you, until finally you make it into the relative quiet of the teacher’s lounge. Peter’s things are already set up on your usual table and you drop your bag with a heavy thud on one of the chairs.

“How’s your day been?” you ask, moving to root around in the fridge for your lunch.

“Eh, not so bad. I gotta figure out what to do about Alana Rubinstein.”

“Oh!” you say, “what’s going on with Alana?”

“Nothing huge, she’s just…” Peter shakes his head, eyebrows knit together, “She’s not where I want her to be in chemistry. And it’s killing me because it’s not that she’s not putting in the effort, you know?” You can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“No, I can’t imagine her refusing to put in effort.” It’s true–– she’s a driven student, and very enthusiastic about choir and the school plays. You have a feeling you’ll see her on Broadway one day–– but you can see where science may not be her strongest subject. In general music last year, she had had a little trouble with the math aspect of music theory; the humanities seem to be more her strong suit.

“I want her to get the concepts, you know, but I think the math is intimidating for her. And I get it, some people aren’t math people… I just gotta get her grade up without fudging it.”

You return to the table with your dinky lunch clutched in one hand; a little package of hummus and pretzels. You’d accidentally turned your alarm off instead of hitting snooze this morning so there had been no time to prepare anything. You’d only just managed to swing by the corner store and pick something up without being late.

“Maybe a research project,” you muse, sitting down. “I had her in general music last year and she did a great report on Dolly Parton.” You pop the lid off your snack-sized lunch and peel back the foil. “You could assign some lesser-known chemists. Maybe Rosalind Franklin?”

“What is that?”

You look at him, shocked. Horrified, even.

“Do you… not know who Rosalind Franklin is?”

“Wh– No, I know who Rosalind Franklin is–– And so do my students, thank you very much–– but I mean that.” He picks up your little cup of hummus. “Is this all you’re eating?” You look at the pretzels in your hands and hold them up, groaning.

“Oh, no,” you say unenthusiastically, “I’ve got these too. Huzzah.”

“You’re not gonna make it past 2:00!” he protests.

“I know!” You snatch your hummus from his hands and wrinkle your nose at it. “I woke up late this morning, I had to run to the deli.”

“Here,” he says, plopping half of his sandwich down in front of you.

“Oh Peter, I can’t!”

“You can and you will,” he says, taking a bite of his half as if to punctuate the thought. “I made it pretty big anyway.”

“I’m not taking your lunch!” you cry. A part of you really does feel guilty, but the rest of you is fighting not to swoon at his kindness. It rolls off him so effortlessly, you can hardly stand it.

“I wish you would,” he says, mouth half full, a boyish smile gracing his features. You study the offering for a moment. It looks good.

“Okay, fine,” you reply, “But I’ve got conditions.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “You gotta share my pretzels.”

“What kind of hummus is it?” You frown, pick up the discarded plastic wrapper to check.

“Garlic.”

“Deal.”

You open up the container and plunk it between the two of you. Peter takes a pretzel from the plastic cup and dips it into the hummus with spindly fingers. Before you can catch yourself you watch him bring it to his lips before your eyes snap back to your newfound bounty.

True to his word, Peter has given you a sandwich stacked fairly high and when you take a bite, you let out an appreciative groan.

“Oh my god,” you say with eyes shut, “this is perfect. Thank you.” You don’t notice the way the tips of Peter’s ears turn pink, and by the time you look up at him, he’s regained his composure, fixing you with an easy smile.

“Anytime. Can’t have you passing out in high school choir. They’d roast you to kingdom come.” You laugh.

“Well, lucky for me I have a knight in shining lab coat, huh?” Peter hums a little laugh.

“Lucky indeed.”

The rest of your shared lunch passes pretty uneventfully. You regale him with the backstory of Cantar!, which he makes sure to compliment again, and then you both hurry off to your respective classes.

Throughout the day, you find yourself thinking of his warm smile–– in the doorway of the auditorium, to the kids calling his name in the hallway, at you when he’d pointed out you’d gotten a little hummus on your nose.

One would be hard-pressed to get you to admit it aloud, but you have an enormous crush on Midtown Science’s chemistry teacher.

One more thing I have in common with my students, you think, climbing into your car at the end of the day. Great.

The next day during homeroom, Peter sits, nursing the large iced coffee you’d brought him in the morning. He’d taken your project idea to heart, and had texted you far too late last night asking about possibly stealing your rubric. You’d sent it along and made a mental note to pick him up something caffeinated on your way to work. There were only a few students in his homeroom when you arrived to drop it off, and the grin he’d given you made the errand 10 times more worth it.

Now he’s squinting into his laptop screen as he makes some edits to the decidedly music-focused language in your rubric. Minutes tick by and Peter’s 8th grade homeroom gradually fills in. After a little while, Jerome, one of the early arrivals, speaks up.

“Mr. Parker, are you gonna be at the Spring Dance next month?”

“What? No, that’s for you guys,” he replies, a little distracted, not looking up from his laptop.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna need chaperones,” Maria chimes in. “They’re not gonna let us be in the gym by ourselves.”

“No,” Peter laughs, “they certainly aren’t.”

“Yeah, and we want the cool teachers to chaperone!” When Peter looks up, Jerome’s expression is so earnest he can’t help but consider.

“When is it again? Like mid-April, right?”

“Two weeks before spring break!” Alisha, another student, confirms from the back of the classroom.

“I feel like you guys are up to something,” Peter says, standing up from his desk, mostly kidding. A giggle ripples out of someone–– he’s not sure who–– and is met with a few resounding shushes. “Okay, nope. Spit it out. What’s going on with you guys?” The room falls silent. He’s pretty sure every pair of eyes is on him now, even Ricky, the class clown, and Faith, one of the eighth grade’s shyest. Playfully, he narrows his eyes at them. He’s got a good relationship with his homeroom, so he trusts that there isn’t a prank in the works. Still… one can never be sure with a room full of 13 year olds.

“Ms. L/N is gonna be there!” Fae finally blurts out.

“Oh.” Peter blinks.

Come on, he thinks, no way they know.

He surveys the classroom. No one looks surprised.

Do… do they know?

“Well there you go,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’ve already got a cool teacher chaperoning.” He looks at the class. They seem unimpressed.

“Mr. Parker,” says Alisha, folding her hands on the table, suddenly all business. “We think you should ask Ms. L/N out.”

“Whoa! Guys,” he says, barking out a laugh, “come on. This is totally inappropriate.”

“But it would be so cute!” cries Jackie.

“No, nope!” Peter says, horrified to feel heat creeping up his neck, “We are not talking about this!” But even in his discomfort, he can’t turn off his fondness for them. “Just… you guys worry about what… what songs you wanna hear, not…” He laughs, shoulders sagging. “Oh my god,” he murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you guys are killing me.”

“But you love us!”

“Yeah yeah,” Peter replies, waving them off despite the smile on his lips. “Let’s get back to… homeroom stuff, all right? I will consider chaperoning. But we’re putting a moratorium on this discussion, okay?”

“A what?”

“It’s like a ban. We’re not talking about it anymore. Got it?”

The students who are still paying attention either nod excitedly or drone their acquiescence and the rest of the class, thankfully, has lost interest. He shakes his head as he settles back down at his desk, trying not to toss around the idea of you swaying in the dim lights of the gym, smiling at him, holding a dixie cup of fruit juice and waving enthusiastically to your students. He almost doesn’t catch himself as his thoughts wander to a somehow-empty gymnasium, your head on his chest, left hand tucked up against his shoulder, his arm around your waist, right hands clasped gently together, bodies close, dancing to nothing but the silence after everyone has gone.

He has to stop himself from muttering a quick prayer of thanks when the bell interrupts his thoughts–– he’d definitely have started blushing if he imagined kissing you.

Peter winds up agonizing over his students’ request much more than he would like to admit. It’s easy enough for him to just shove it out of his consciousness as the day goes by–– especially because your lunch periods don’t line up on Fridays–– but without the school day to distract him, Peter finds himself turning the idea over and over in his mind once the weekend arrives.

Of course it wouldn’t be that weird to see if you want some back up chaperoning the dance. If he’d known you were doing it, Peter might have volunteered of his own accord. But his students had made it pretty clear why they were asking him. And that’s what scares him–– never mind the fact that they can tell he likes you–– it’s the idea of actually asking you out.

What if he does? What if you say no? What if you say yes? What if you feel like you have to indulge him? What if you agree and then have a terrible time? What if you’re seeing someone and it just never came up? Peter can imagine the gentle lilt of your voice, kind even delivering rejection, the sound a caress no matter how painful the words.

But the last thing Peter wants is to put you in an uncomfortable position. And besides, you’re one of his best friends. Sure, you’re coworkers, but it’s become more than that. The two of you have developed a real friendship–– one Peter values too highly to risk over some idea his students have gotten in their heads. But as Saturday crawls into Sunday and he fine tunes his lesson plans and frets over his laundry, Peter decides he can chaperone the dance with you without making it into something that it isn’t.

It’s a busy time in the school year and a boyfriend is probably the last thing you’re looking for anyway. As much as his students may want to play matchmaker, Peter is more than capable of doing you a friendly favor. So when you bring up the idea of chaperoning before he does during your Monday lunch, Peter can’t help but feel a little thrown off.

His carefully-laid plans are thrown to the wind as you cheerily explain to him that the dance could use another chaperone, and despite himself, Peter feels his heart rate picking up a little. God, what’s gotten into him? You don’t mean anything by it, this doesn’t mean anything.

Even so, he’s worried he sounds a little overeager when he agrees to help out.

It won’t be all that much work, you explain. Mostly it’ll just involve a shift at the snack table and standing to the side of the dance floor in case something goes wrong. Even so, you thank Peter profusely for agreeing to give up a Friday night.

“I’m sure you have better things to do,” you say. Peter waves off your concern with a kind smile. There genuinely isn’t anywhere he’d rather be.

When Peter shows up to school the evening of the dance, you’re already in full gear. You’d asked him to arrive at 5:30pm, but by the looks of it, you’ve been back at school for a while. The gym is decorated already and you’re fussing with your laptop near the entrance. Mx. Jiminez and Mr. Janssen are loading up the snack tables. You don’t notice Peter until he’s right in front of you, and your head snaps up like you feel his gaze on you. He grins.

“Sorry; you looked so focused I didn’t wanna disturb you.” You offer Peter a weary smile before your eyes flicker back to the screen.

“No, you’re just in time. Would you mind running to the faculty room? I sent an updated attendance list to the printer–– we got so many last minute emails after dismissal today.” Suddenly, a warm hand rests on your shoulder and you look up at Peter, a little surprised.

“Hey,” he says softly, “this looks amazing. It’s all gonna be fine. Did you organize this whole thing?” You nod a little bashfully.

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. Hey, don’t worry. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

The sound of his voice is reassuring, grounding. You remember to feel your feet in the soles of your shoes. Peter smiles when you exhale deeply.

“Thank you,” you reply, shutting your eyes for a moment. When you open them again, you look a little bit more like your normal self–– the anxiety isn’t gone, but Peter can see the glint in your eye again. “You look nice, by the way.” His eyebrows lift, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment, but he recovers quickly.

“Not half as good as you.”

And with an affectionate squeeze to your shoulder, he sweeps off to fetch your list.

Peter is impressed to find that the list you mentioned is three pages’ worth of names. He scans through and sees that nearly his whole homeroom will be in attendance, and a decent chunk of the middle school, all told. When he arrives back at your table, you’re nowhere to be seen, though he hears from Alix Jiminez that you’re in the A/V Room with Coach Weekes loading up the speakers for the makeshift DJ booth.

You continue to flit in and out, letting Peter know that you have him down for the first snack table shift with Mademoiselle Youssef, helping Nancy Weekes find the right cables to connect up her laptop, and laughing with Karl Janssen about something Peter can’t hear, but is glad that his colleague said. He can’t help himself–– you’re exquisite, the way you laugh and swish around, determined, stressed, beaming. You’re so many things all at once; contradictions, joyfulness, beauty. Marianne Youssef elbows him as you march out the front doors, just visible beyond the entrance to the gym to start checking students in.

“You’re being really obvious,” she says, a calm but knowing smile on her lips.

“I… what?”

“Come on,” she says, straightening out a lopsided bag of doritos, “it’s not like people don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” he insists. It isn’t denial in his voice–– just pure, honest confusion.

“You and Y/N. We’re all rooting for you to get together. Hell, I’m about to start taking bets.” Peter’s throat is dry. Karl strolls up, smiling.

“You giving him a hard time, Mari?”

“Somebody’s got to!”

“Alix says they’re starting to arrive, so maybe table it for now. Otherwise the kids are gonna start talking.”

“Like they don’t already,” she scoffs. A few kids step nervously over the threshold. Music Peter has heard but doesn’t really recognize gets a little louder.

“Oh, here they come,” says Karl, “godspeed! You two are gonna be overrun in a minute. I’m on door duty.”

“I’m just saying,” Marianne murmurs, “and then I’ll drop it–– if you asked her out, I really think she’d say yes.” She winks before turning her attention out to the small but growing group of students anxiously milling further into the gym. One student makes his way hesitantly toward the snack table. “Bonjour, Martin!” Marianne says brightly. “Qu’est-ce que tu voudrais?”

Peter recognizes the boy, though he doesn’t have him in any of his sections this year.

“Um… Je veux… un… soda?”

“Je voudrais un soda, s’il vous plait” she corrects warmly. Martin repeats the phrase, blush evident even under the low light.

“Très bien! Quel type?”

“A… avez-vous du Coke?”

“Oui, bien sûr!” She crouches to reach into the cooler and Peter offers the kid a pitying smile.

“You want some chips?”

“Uh…”

“Grab whatever kind you want. No French required.”

“Hey!” cries Marianne, coming up with her quarry. Martin takes a bag of cheetos and accepts his hard-earned drink.

“Thanks, Mr. Parker. Merci madame!”

“Mademoiselle!” she protests as Martin scurries off. “I swear, Peter, these kids are trying to age me.” Peter laughs.

“I think you just aged him.”

“Eh,” she shrugs. “Education never sleeps.”

With a little coaxing, Marianne stops making her students answer in French and the rest of the half hour flies by. Peter gets it–– when he was 12 he would’ve taken every free soda and bag of chips he could’ve managed.

It’s not too long before the kids finally seem a little less anxious and are dancing pretty enthusiastically to Coach Weekes’s playlist. Peter makes a mental note to ask her how she figured out what the kids even listen to. He only ever catches snippets during homeroom and he’s too scared to even ask how TikTok works. You’ve shown him a couple of funny ones, but he can tell there is a whole world neither of you quite understand.

He’s lost in thought when you trot over to the snack table and when he hears the sound of his first name, his gaze snaps up to find your smiling face.

“Hey,” you say, letting out a laugh, “am I in trouble?” Peter visibly relaxes.

“No, sorry–– I was expecting a student and then I heard Peter, and I…” he shakes his head. “Anyway, how can I help?” You grin.

“You’re stuck with me for the next shift,” you say, mischief in your eyes. Peter can’t help but beam.

“What’s the damage?”

“Dance floor duty. You can take a soda for the road.” Peter laughs. You look so happy, so in your element. He can tell you’re reveling in the fruits of your hard work, the well-concealed anxiety from earlier in the evening gone.

“I’m good, but thank you.” You flash a smile and pull him from behind the table, where Alix and Karl slip in to take over.

There are a few jackets piled up by the side of the gym but you find a little free space and lean up against the mat-clad wall, sighing contentedly. Peter can’t help but watch your expression as you survey the gym, eyes crinkling as you smile, waving back to a few students who’ve noticed your arrival.

The clump doesn’t start to form right away. For a solid half hour, you and Peter just chat, intervening every so often when the dancing turns too much into flying limbs or students are running around the gym at full speed. Slowly but surely, though, Peter notices a few students huddling together nearby, glancing over at the two of you. He tries to ignore it, knows that kids will be kids, but his heartbeat starts to quicken when Fae begins to walk over. She looks a little sheepish and Peter feels certain she’s going to bring up the conversation from homeroom. There’s nothing he can do, now, though, so he simply braces for impact.

A familiar bassline starts to thrum and you gasp excitedly, catching Peter’s attention.

“Oh my god!’ you cry, “Remind me to buy Nancy a thank-you coffee.”

“Um, Ms. L/N?” Fae asks. Peter swallows as you turn to face her. She doesn’t say anything right away, and you break into a radiant smile.

“Wait a minute…” you say, clearly piecing something together. “Did you guys ask Coach Weekes to play this?” Fae nods, and the rest of the clump perks up when you look over to them.

“Will you come do the dance with us?” Marcus calls. You throw your head back and laugh.

“Of course I will!” you reply, and before Peter can blink, Fae grabs your hand and drags you onto the dance floor, a gaggle of students following after. He watches, slack-jawed but delighted, as you and several members of the choir launch into goofy choreography to Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie.

Your little rag-tag team vacillates wildly between singing dramatically and doing cheesy dance moves, and soon other kids begin to join in, though Peter knows for a fact some of them don’t take your classes. The gym is nothing but smiles (and the odd confused glance) as you and your students mimic the final piano notes and snap along to the final beats. There is a split second of silence before thunderous applause drowns out the opening strains of the next song, and quite a few kids throw their arms around you before scampering off back to their friends.

You’re still laughing when you make your way back to Peter, leaning heavily into the wall beside him.

“That was something,” he says once you’ve caught your breath, impish smile on his lips. “You choreograph that whole thing?”

You look at him and duck your head in embarrassment. His heart feels like an overinflated balloon.

“It helps them chill out when they’re stressed!” you squeak. He breaks into a grin as his heart-balloon pops. He nudges you with his shoulder.

“I’m only teasing. That was incredibly sweet.”

“It was. I had no idea they were going to do that.”

“No, I meant–– I mean, it totally was sweet of them. But I meant you. That you went out there and danced with them. That you make time for them to be silly. That must mean a lot to them.”

You nod, smile, stand up a little straighter. “Yeah. I think it does.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

The rest of the dance goes by smoothly. After an hour on dance floor duty, you hurry off to take point on the first wave of the staggered departures. Peter stays on in the gym, making sure the students leave at the right times and don’t forget their belongings. He also keeps an eye on the dance floor.

Once the last of the students have left, Peter helps Nancy break down the A/V equipment while you, Karl, Alix, and Marianne set about cleaning up the gym. You’re on a ladder collecting streamers as Nancy and Peter begin to wheel away the cart, with Marianne tagging along to hold open doors. Peter throws you a wink on their way out and you think he must be trying to kill you with the way your legs turn to jelly.

You hear a snort from below and glare down at Karl.

“What?” you snap, mostly playfully. You have a feeling you already know what he’s going to say.

“I mean… you guys are just being willful now.”

“What do you mean?” You turn your attention back to your crumpled ball of streamers.

“I mean even Elliot thinks you two need to just get it over with and he’s never even met you guys.”

“You talk to Elliot about us?”

“I am definitely not the only one gossiping about you to my partner.”

“Oh my god,” you groan.

“Oh relax. We just want you guys to be happy.” You toss your streamers down at him and he chuckles as you make your descent. When you turn around, the rest of the gym is, miraculously, spotless. Alix holds one final balloon in their hands.

“Okay, heads up!” they say, “I’ve been popping quietly, but this is the send off.”

“What’re we doing?” you hear Peter’s voice from the doorway.

“Celebrating this shit being over!”

And with a bang, the final balloon disappears. Everyone cheers and claps. Marianne helps Karl stow the ladder away in the hall closet and you toss out the streamers before shutting off the lights in the gym. You thank Rick, the custodian, for locking up behind you as everyone heads to their cars. Peter lingers to walk by your side.

“Thank you so much for helping out,” you say, falling into stride with him.

“Hey, no problem. It was fun. I liked seeing you in your element out there.”

“I’m never gonna live that dance down, huh?”

“No, it wasn’t just that! You looked really proud of what you pulled off. And you should be.” You stop and look at him.

“Thank you. That really means a lot.” The two of you stand there in the middle of the lot, waving goodbye to your colleagues as they depart.

“Here,” Peter says, “I’ll walk you to your car.” You let him. Both of you amble slowly towards your Prius–– it’s a combination of tiredness and not wanting to say goodbye on your end–– but eventually you make it to the driver’s side door. You open your mouth to say good night but Peter speaks first.

“Hey, listen, I… I know I…” he frowns, shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking a lot and I just… I really care about you. And maybe I’m reading a little too much into things or my students are getting to me or who knows what, but I feel like there’s more between us than just friendship. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, you don’t owe me a damn thing, but it’s been driving me crazy lately and you were just so you tonight––

“Peter,” you murmur.

“I just had to say something. I’m sorry, I know it’s late, and you’re probably exhausted but I––”

“Peter,” you say, a little more firmly. He stops talking, looks at you like he’s coming out of a trance. “I feel the same way,” you say softly, “I’ve wanted to plant one on you since, like, last year.” He blinks.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, and before you have a second to think, his hands are on your cheeks and he’s kissing you.

Warmth floods your chest, and for a second your mind short circuits. But where your thoughts go blank, your body responds, a hand reaching up to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, the other grasping at the back of his jacket.

His kiss is something gentle, earnest, and reverent–– only a hint of desperation slips through in the way he holds you, the way he chases your lips to kiss you again when you break apart. His hands have slipped around to the back of your neck and when he’s done kissing you again he rests his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” you murmur, “so… we could’ve been doing that all this time?”

“I think so.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, bodies still pressed close. After a moment, you giggle and bury your face in his chest. He lets out a soft laugh and wraps his arms around you, giving your hip a gentle squeeze.

“Did you say your students were getting in your head?”

“Oh yeah. We had a whole discussion in homeroom. They were… not very subtle about their thoughts on what I should do.”

“Oh my god. We really are idiots, huh?”

“Nah,” he says, nosing against your hair. “Just… goofballs.” You laugh.

“Goofballs,” you repeat, peeking up at Peter.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he says, shaking his head, “what am I gonna do with you?”

“Wine and dine me? Take me home?” Peter’s eyes widen. As soon as you’ve said it, you regret it, start backpedaling. “Sorry, that… was a little forward.” You make a move to step away from him, but he holds you gently in place.

“Hey,” he says, “no. It wasn’t too forward. That was actually incredibly hot. But I can’t risk it.” You frown.

“Why not?”

“Because if one of us leaves our car here over the weekend the kids will find out and they’ll flip.” You laugh. “That, and the second my body gets near a mattress I’m gonna fall into a long and deep sleep.” Still, your eyes flicker away from his, a little abashed. “But” he says, fingers drifting under your chin, coaxing your gaze back to his, “I’m free this weekend. You eat food?” You snort.

“Yeah, Peter, I eat food.”

“Good then. It’s a date. We’ll get dinner. And then,” he says, leaning in, “maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get to take you home. If you want.” When you grin, your lips are almost touching.

“Already talking about getting lucky, are we?” Peter smiles against your lips and kisses you once more–– a quick, teasing thing.

“I already got lucky tonight.”

You can’t help but feel a little cold when he begins to disentangle himself from you. You hold on to him until his fingertips slip from yours, smiling as he starts to walk off to his car, but he stops. He turns around and in a few strides he’s back in your arms again, kissing you one final time, enthusiastic, playful. He kisses your temple next, speaks low in your ear. “Can I see you tomorrow?” You brush your fingers into his hair and make him look at you.

“Yeah, Pete,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He grins, pumps his fist in the air, and finally turns away to get into his car. You slide into your own driver’s seat and shut the door. You can’t help yourself–– you fire off a text to Karl.

Immediately, you can see that he’s typing a reply. Your phone screen reads:

Who made the first move?

– We kind of both did?

Yeah, but if you HAD to say who?

– I guess Peter?

I JUST WON FIFTY BUCKS

You let out a laugh and rest your forehead against your steering wheel. You have a feeling your and Peter’s are about to become Midtown Sciene’s best-worst-kept secret.

#peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #peter parker imagine #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #peter 3 x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm au event #au event #april au event #aus for april #oh god okay here it is!!!!#i have a HEADACHE

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abibliophobiaa · 2 years

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can I do a request for- tasm peter talking about pride parade and how him and reader show go but like in the middle of the conversation reader is like “wait-“ then he is like “ yeah I’m bi” and then reader is like “so cool! ”[ or something on the lines of that]. btw love your work 🫶🏽

happy pride month 🌈. gn!reader.

“What’s something that really annoys you but probably doesn’t annoy anyone else?” You ask, holding aloft your phone. It’s a silly conversation prompt you found on an instagram post.

Your boyfriend, Peter, naturally is always willing and ready to appease you. His head rests in your lap. Those strands of his dark hair tangling in your fingers as they card through them lackadaisically that balmy Saturday morning. His eyes close momentarily, though you always hate to see them go, brows furrowing high on his forehead.

“When I get thrown into cars. Like why do people have this constant desire to throw Spider-Man into cars?”

You snort, poking him in the cheek. “Be serious.”

“I am very serious.”

You level him with a glare.

“Plus, the prompt was something that annoys you but probably doesn’t annoy anyone else. There’s only one Spider-Man, right?”

“As far as we know. There could be another inter dimensional Spider-Man out there living a life very similar to your own.”

“Oh yes, somewhere in this fictional multiverse we have other Spider-Men.”

You shove at him playfully. His hand comes up to lace your fingers with your own, resting them against his chest as the television drawls on in the distance.

“What about you?” He asks, eyes closing once again as his head tilts toward the ceiling.

“Uh, odd numbers.”

His cheek ticks. “Is that why you always bump the volume up in the car and on the TV when it’s on an odd number?”

“Maybe.”

His returning grin splits your heart as he suddenly shifts so he’s sitting beside you. An arm comes up to curl around your shoulders and tug you against a pliant chest. You sigh into the embrace, head nuzzling against collar bone.

“What should we do this weekend?” You muse quietly, tucking your legs beneath you.

“Funny you ask…the, uh, Pride Parade is this weekend.”

You perk up at this. You know some of your friends planned on going and you had as well. But this is the first time Peter has shown an interest.

You lean back a bit to take in his features. Those sweet brown eyes. The stubble lining his jaw. Forever unkempt hair you’ll spent running your fingers through if he allows you.

Only his usually bright and happy demeanor is displaced. His brows furrowing slightly on his forehead. Bottom lip between his teeth. Chewing.

“There’s something I want to tell you…I just…”

He sighs and then thinks better of it. The shaky timbre of his tone has you moving closer to him on the couch, pressing your fingers into the inside of his wrist. Gently brushing your fingertips along his warm flesh.

You think you understand. But you want him to be the one to tell you. It’s his truth to share.

“Babe?”

“I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know the right time. But I, uh, I’m Bi.”

There are no words between you. Not as you curl your arms around his shoulders and tug him into the cage of your arms. Your eyes burn at his vulnerability with you as his arms come around your frame, face pressing into your shoulder. Simply allowing himself to be held. Remaining there.

“I’m grateful you told me, Peter.”

A simple truth which has him cupping your cheeks in his hands. Those dark eyes swirling as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

When you part, he’s grinning.

You suddenly wish you had a camera to snap the look of utter happiness lining his features.

Freeness.

“You’re okay with it?” he asks.

You nod.

“Really?”

Another nod.

And then he’s tugging you against him once more.

“I wasn’t scared to tell you because I thought you wouldn’t like it. It’s just…I still find it hard to tell people.”

You run your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “That’s because it is a hard thing to tell people. It’s being open and vulnerable and that’s scary and I’m honestly so happy you chose me to share that with.”

He shifts back a bit to take you in. Presses a kiss between your brows. Whispers, “I love you so much,” into your forehead.

“I love you, Peter. That means all of you. For as long as you’ll allow me.”

“And if that’s always?”

“Then it’s always.”

#peter parker x reader #luna’s loves #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x you #andrew!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker andrew garfield #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader

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wonderswritings · 1 year

Text

When Worlds Collide 2: I've Lost Myself

Summary: In the past year, you’d suffered more than you’d ever could’ve imagined. Now, after a relative moment of peace, it seems trouble has started once more, and you’re dragged into it. The multiverse is real, and with it, possibilities of a new life.

Warnings: No Way Home Spoilers, Multiverse of Madness Spoilers, Angst, Lost Memories, Unrequited Feelings,

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader (nicknamed Mel read book 1 to find out why)

AO3

When Worlds Collide Masterlist

When he’d returned to his world, he was back in his apartment, and even though nothing had changed, everything had changed. He had changed. He had a new outlook, and it was all because of her. YN Mel Stark. The fiercely loyal girl who did everything she could to save Peter. Her Peter. The multiverse is real. There are other hims out there. Other worlds. He still couldn’t believe it. But he knew it was real because he could still feel her lips against his. He could still feel the warmth he felt when the burst of her powers had surged through him. And he could still see her, even if it was a week later and she wasn’t physically with him. Currently, he was swinging though the city, dropping down into an empty alley. He changed into his civi clothes, flipping his hoodie up as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, walking out of the alley. He walked down the street that led to the one place he dreaded, following the all too familiar path. He came to a stop, flipping his bag in front of him and pulling the flowers out, wincing slightly as he set them down in front of the stone.

“I’m sorry they’re smushed, Gwen.”

He grinned slightly as he sat down, nodding.

“Though, it’s par for the course, isn’t it?”

There was a soft breeze, causing him to smile softly.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last came. It uh- it’s been hard. But so much has happened. The multiverse is real. I went to this other world and I met other ‘mes’. I- I also met someone. She- she’s really sweet and protective and powerful.”

He chuckled, nodding.

“Like, super powerful. Her world is so different from ours. They’ve got wizards and witches and aliens too, apparently.”

Peter sighed softly, slightly grinning.

“I was- I was happy for the first time in a long time. And it sucks, because she’s not going to remember me should we ever meet again. But I- I hope we do meet again. I- I’d really like for you two to meet. The girl who made me happy and the girl who showed me how to be happy again.”

Peter looked up when the sky turned a dark reddish color, slightly making a face when there was a loud thundering sound.

“What the-”

He jumped up when the red faded into a flash of purple, a surge of familiarness hitting him. Peter looked around, making sure there was no one else around as he slipped his hoodie and sweats off, pulling his mask over his face.

“Sorry Gwen, I’ll be back. I promise.”

Peter swung through the city, gaining on the ever growing bright light when it disappeared, rain starting to fall, growing harder as he dropped onto the sidewalks, looking around. His spidey sense was silent, which caused him to be more on edge as he walked down the street, looking down each alley he passed when he heard it. If it wasn't for his enhanced hearing he would’ve missed it, the soft broken whimper. He followed it to a back alley, keeping his guard up when he heard it, the faint thumping of a heartbeat. He followed it as it grew louder, coming to a stop when he saw her, choking out a shocked gasp as his eyes widened under the mask.

“Mel?”

He dropped to his knees next to her, his hands hovering over her, hesitant to touch her. His heart sped up when he heard hers slow, ripping his mask off as he cradled her face in his hand, lightly tapping her cheek with the other.

“YN, YN please. Open your eyes.”

He tapped her cheek a little harder, his breathing growing frantic as he started to panic.

“Please, YN open your eyes. Please.”

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he started to shake her.

“Mel, please.”

Peter jumped when she gasped, her eyes slamming open, glowing. Peter breathed a sigh of relief, whispering her name.

“Mel.”

The glow of her eyes pulsed before it faded, her eyes closing once more.

Peter was pacing back and forth, his mind racing. She was here. Here with him, laying in his bed. He had questions, the main being how was she here? But since he’d brought her here, she’d yet to wake, the steady thump thump of her heart the only thing keeping him freaking out more than he already was. He couldn’t risk taking her to the hospital, even if every part of his being wanted to, at least that way she’d get the proper care she needed. But she didn’t exist here, no record of her anywhere and that would cause questions, questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. He fell back onto his couch, leaning his head back as he rubbed at his temples, sighing.

“Oh man.”

He jumped when he heard a thud coming from his room, jumping up and running down the hall, throwing his door open, his eyes wide.

“YN?”

He stepped further into his room, looking around. The sheets on his bed were strewn about, the only sign that she’d been there.

“YN? YN where are you?”

He took a deep breath as he scanned the room, looking for any signs of YN. He started to panic, his breathing growing heavy. Was it even real? Did he just, imagine it? He moved to his bed, sitting on the edge of it, his head in his hand as he sighed, running his hand through his hair, catching a glimpse. He let his hand fall down as he leaned up, breathing a sigh of relief.

“YN.”

She was sitting in the corner, her knees pressed against the side of his desk, his hamper shoved in front of her. He stood up, walking towards her. She flinched, huddling closer to the wall, causing Peter to lift his hands, speaking softly.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

He moved so he was kneeling in front of the hamper, keeping a small distance between it and him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, promise.”

He lowered his hands when she stopped shaking, jerking his chin towards the hamper.

“Can we move this? I just want to make sure you’re okay, that you’re not hurt.”

She watched him, staring him down before she slowly nodded. Peter offered her a small smile as he gently reached towards the hamper, moving it out to the side.

“There you are. What do you say to getting out of the corner? It can’t be comfortable.”

She slightly nodded, causing Peter to smile as he stood. He held his hand out towards her, offering her a soft smile as he nodded. She looked at his hand, slightly making a face before she slowly reached out, placing her hand in his. He was careful as he helped her stand.

“Good?”

She nodded, causing Peter to nod back as he turned, gently leading her back to his bed. He helped her sit down, his eyes widening when he saw the dried blood at her hairline. Without thinking he reached out, jumping as she grabbed his wrist, stopping him from touching her. He looked down at her, seeing her eyes glowing. She shook her head, letting his wrist go, dropping her hand back to her lap.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Peter shook his head, reaching towards his nightstand for the first aid kit as he knelt in front of her. She watched him as he set it on the bed next to her, flipping it open. He looked up at her, lifting the alcohol wipe.

“Can I?”

She nodded, Peter offering her a small smile as he reached up, gently wiping the blood. Peter caught her wringing her fingers together. He cast her a curious glance, causing her to take a deep breath, looking down at her hands.

“Do you- can you tell me who YN is?”

Peter stopped what he was doing, slowly looking back at her.

“What?”

“You- you called for YN. Who is that?”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, tears stinging at his eyes. He took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“Uhm, yo- you are. Your name is YN.”

She made a face, slightly tilting her head to the side.

“YN. My name is YN?”

“Yes.”

Peter took a deep breath as grabbed a bandaid, opening the wrapping before he gently pressed it over the cut.

“Do- do you know who I am?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as she watched him start to clean up.

“No. I- I’m sorry.”

Peter looked back over her, shaking his head.

“Hey, no, no. It’s okay.”

He took a deep breath, glancing over at her.

“Do you- what do you remember?”

She sniffled, shaking her head.

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

Peter fell back so he was sitting on the floor, his eyes wide as he looked up at her, muttering.

“Crap.”

Caps Tags

Everything Tags:

@jedi-dreea

@scarlett-witchhh

@cevans-winchester

@rafecameronswhore

@jennmurawski13-writes

When Worlds Collide Original Tags:

@nyx2021

@puredicks @jedi-dreea

@luvr-bunnyy

@xoxabs88xox

@scarlett-witchhh

@pancakefancake

@preciousbabypeter

@lacunaanonymoused

@shaded-echoes-recs

@multi-fandom-lover7667

TASM!Peter Parker Tags:

@preciousbabypeter

Marvel Tags:

@3leni

@vxidnik @qiqilious

@sky0401

@nyx2021

@dani5216

@ajeff855 @steph213 @23victoria

@kelseyd07

@jedi-dreea @dorks2022

@bxnnywatts @luvr-bunnyy

@sleutherclaw @thebookisbtr

@n00dlesncheese @mariaenchanted

@scarlett-witchhh @cevans-winchester @lacunaanonymoused

@rafecameronswhore @mychemicalimagines @maluisamarvelfan123

@todaywasafairytale07

@jennmurawski13-writes

@multi-fandom-lover7667

#when worlds collide #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #marvel x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader

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flamingo-writes · 2 years

Text

Shared Puppyhood – TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

A lil drabble I thought of while walking my dog. And I may be projecting myself a bit here...

Summary: It's strange when you think about it. You have a dog, who you share with Spiderman. And it all happened because Spiderman, the guy you'd been patching up for the last months one day got to your apartment slightly injured, but in his arms he had a dog who needed medical attention far more urgently than him. And while caring the dog back to health, you ended up adopting it, and Spiderman in a way too. Who knew this dog would completely change your lives.

Warnings: mentions of wounds, swearing.

Peter swung by, eventually landing next to your window as he gently used his foot to slide your window open. Carrying a bag of dog food over his shoulder, managed to get inside your apartment in one swift move.

And soon, he was greeted by the sound of paws hitting the wood floor as a medium black dog with long thin hair welcomed him with a wiggling tail and excited eyes.

"Hey, buddy" Peter said kneeling before him and scratching it's head. "How's Archie doing? What's up in your fluffy doggy life, huh?" He continued as he took off his mask, kissing the dog's head.

"Peter?" You asked nervously from somewhere else in your apartment as he got up and walked out of your room, greeting you as you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "For fucks sake, you scared me for a second there..." You sighed exasperated.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat not expecting to come in such a moment. He looked away shyly and cleared his throat.

"I should've called before, right?" He said walking out of your room and using a web to pull the dog food towards him. "I remembered you said Archie almost ran out of food so I brought a new bag"

"Oh thank you, Pete!" You sighed relieved. "Yeah, I was gonna buy it later this week..." You said looking at the 44lb bag and then at him. "Thank you!" You said smiling at him before walking towards your room. "Give me 5 minutes while I change..."

"Sure, take your time" He said as he heard the door closing behind you and he headed to the livingroom, followed by Archie as he kept wiggling his tail at Peter.

Peter had grown familiar to your apartment, as the livingroom soon stopped looking like a ER. Since one day he accidentally fell into your fire escape and he'd begged you over and over again to not take him to the hospital, you turned out to be a drop out veterinarian student and knew enough to patch him up.

"Why did you quit?"

"It's a very stressing lifestyle...You try your best for the sake of the animals, and most people are ungrateful..." You told him among other things.

And while now you worked as an elementary teacher, you still retained most of your knowledge. Specially since Spiderman would often knock on your window, wounded and apologizing beforehand. And every time, you stitched him up without hesitation. Feeling bad for making you patch him up every time, he made sure to bring all the materials he used up, sutures, gauze, peroxide...And a few more things like May's banana bread, or donuts, even coffee.

"I'm sorry. I know this is one of the reasons you quit being a vet tech, but–"

"Hey, it's okay. I don't mind patching you up...You've proven to be a lot more grateful than many of the people I came across at the veterinarian hospital..."

Those words made something in him tick. And from then, he only fell more and more each time he knocked on your window.

Although, he never told you his name. For a good three months you just knew the face behind the mask, as well as most of his body as he often arrived with wounds in several parts of his body. But he always refused to tell you his name. You called him Spidey, or sometimes just Bug. And he soon started calling you Bug in return.

Especially one time he knocked on your window with an injured dog, calling your name.

"Please, help me. There was this warehouse on fire and he was trapped inside" He said desperately. "I know I should take it to an actual vet hospital, but I can't afford it, and I couldn't leave him behind"

It was the desperation in his words and the tears in his eyes that made broke your heart and made you do something about it instead you did what you could with what you had at home.

Lucky enough, the dog had a few burns in his paws and tail, nothing too serious, the rest of the dog was intact, except from a mild sore throat from breathing smoke.

And while the dog was resting and getting better, Spiderman went every single day to your apartment, mostly to see the dog and to thank you over and over again. His little food gifts were more than enough for you, but Peter didn't know how else to repay you.

"What will happen once the dog has fully healed" You asked him.

"I'd say put him up for adoption, but honestly...I'm too attached to him to give him up..."

"I can't keep him, Bug..." You whispered. "I can barely afford my own living..."

"Yeah...I know...Me too, also I can't have him at my apartment..."

Seeing that none of you wanted to give him up, and finding a home for him was hard, since finding a home for a medium adult dog wasnt as easy as finding a home for a puppy. You two somehow agreed on keeping the dog, but sharing the expenses. You let the dog stay at your place, walked him in the mornings before work, and got his vaccines covered with help from your friends from vet school, and Peter made sure the dog always had food, and bought him toys and treats. Whenever you had to leave for the weekend, Peter would stay at your place watching over the dog.

"How should we name him?" He asked.

"Something cute..." You purred. "He looks like...Peter, don't you think?"

"Don't name him that!"

"Why not? It's not like you–" You stopped as the penny dropped. "Your name is Peter?"

"What? No....no, no. My name is not–" He stuttered, sighing as he realized it was pointless at this point. "Yes, my name is Peter..." you burst out laughing.

"What a way to finally learn your name!" You chuckled and looked at him. "I stand by what I said earlier, Peter is a nice name"

"Thanks..."

"How about Archie?"

As you walked out of your room, wearing clean pajamas you greeted Peter with a smile, as he felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

"You look comfy" He pointed out, looking at your shorts decorated with sheeps of all tones of white and brown.

"Thank you, I bought these pajamas at Costco!" You said making a dumb pose, with your shorts and matching shirt of a sheep jumping over a fence. Peter giggled. "Want to stay over for dinner?"

It wasn't the fanciest dinner. It consisted of microwave pizza with leftover salad you made earlier that day. But it was better than anything Peter could ask. Mostly because he had your company making the chewy pizza taste like one of the best things he'd had.

"Thank you, Bug" He purred, calling you by the affectionate nickname he decided to call you. "For dinner"

"Thank you for Archie's food"

"It's nothing..." He said looking at you with a gentle smile with eyes that seemed to melt with adoration. "I should go, it's getting late, and you work early tomorrow"

"Sure..." You murmured, looking away from his gorgeous dark eyes as you hoped he'd stayed a little longer.

You walked him towards your room, as your window was his preferred main door. Stopping in front of your window, he spun on his toes and looked at you, holding his mask on one hand, as he gently brushed your cheek with his free hand's finger.

"See you soon?" He asked as you met his stare and nodded.

"You're always welcome, you know that. You don't even have to wait for me to get home, my window is always open. You can just pop in and play with Archie or take him for a walk or...whatever" You said, as Peter smirked, knowing this speech by heart as you often told him over and over again he could come in whenever he pleased.

"Thanks" He said as he turned around, holding his mask now in both hands, as he was ready to jump out the window, but something was stopping him.

An intrusive thought.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, noticing the way he stood there staring at his hands.

"Hm? Yeah..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, fuck it" He said as he turned around, facing you again and stared into your confused gaze. "Hypothetically speaking...What would you do if I..." He cleared his throat. "Lets say, kiss you?"

Your eyes widened as your cheeks soon started burning and blushing. "I-I...Don't know" You purred. "Why don't we figure it out?" He smiled at your shy response as he threw his mask to your bed and cupped your face at once.

He'd be lying if he said he'd never fantasised of this moment before. Kissing you for the first time. Although, not even in his wildest dreams it felt as good as it did now.

His lips pressing against yours delicately as you kissed him back right away. Lips shyly locking together as you figured out each other's pace. Your heart igniting as you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer as he mirrored your movements. Melting into each other's embrace as the undisclosed feelings you had for one another finally surfaced mixed in that kiss. It was tender, shy, and it was so sweet.

He hummed, breaking the kiss as he cupped your face gently. "Thanks"

"For what?" You chuckled softly, meeting his chocolate eyes.

"Everything" He said. "Patching me up, helping Archie, keeping my secret, the shared puppyhood, being you..."

You smiled and looked away feeling slightly flustered as you hugged him and hid your face in his chest.

"No need to thank me..." You replied as he hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. "I'm happy to help"

#tasm imagine #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter imagine

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strawberrysodaslut · 2 years

Text

Friendly Behaviour? - Tasm!Peter x Reader

word count: 901

warnings: mention of fights, a fluff ton of fluff, bruises, peter has cuts from fight, hurt to comfort, kissing, mention of pepper spray, [if there’s any more warnings needed lmk]

summary: Peter has always been your friend, your feelings hidden away. But recently, he’s started to act strange. Late to movie nights, showing up to school with bruises that couldn’t be from skateboarding. You were left in the dark. Until one night, when everything is changed.

masterlist taglist

You and Peter had an... interesting relationship. If anyone had asked, you would both insist that you’re nothing more than friends. But you always wanted more. You understood why people say otherwise. You and Peter always behaved a bit more comfortably than friends normally did. That was just how comfortable you were.

Although your feelings for Peter were strong, you knew he couldn’t feel the same way. The truth was, Peter was definitely hiding something from you. Something big.

You would point out a new bruise he had on his face, and he would just roll his eyes and brush it off as a skateboarding accident. But you weren’t an idiot. He was getting into fights. You don’t know who with, or why he would fight someone. But he was, and he was lying to you about it with ease.

No one who really wanted to be with someone could keep that from them.

Still, you sucked it up, sitting silently as he was late for your weekly movie night for the tenth time in the row. You’d grown so used to his tardiness that you hadn’t even started preparing the popcorn, knowing that it would just go cold.

But today, he didn’t show up with some silly bruise.

You had given up on him coming over. By the time you packed everything up, it was nearly 2 am. You’d gotten into your PJs and were half asleep when the banging on your window came.

It wasn’t the type of bang you’d expect, more of a dull knock. You grab your pepper spray- just in case, and went towards the closed curtains.

You pulled the curtains back to reveal your best friend, beaten and scratched up.

“Oh my god, Peter!” You sigh, grateful he’s alive, but terrified of the state he’s in.

You practically have to pull Peter into your room. Praying to god that your parents stay asleep.

Peter groans as you maneuver him to sit by your bed, sending you a little smile before it morphs into a frown. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come- I just don’t have anyone else.” He says.

Your eyes scan his body, he has cuts all across him, one goes down his face into his jumper. You go to pull his jumper off, but he stops you.

But unfortunately, Peter didn’t think of what would happen if you felt the suit. As you pulled your hand away, that was what you did.

You felt the weird, rubbery fabric under his sweatshirt. Thinking it was something that had happened to his skin, you pulled the sweatshirt up a little. Just enough for you to see the blue material you brushed up against.

“What-“ You questioned, looking up at Peter. Tugging at the sweatshirt as if to ask for permission.

There was nothing Peter could do. If you didn’t find out now, you definitely would investigate. What if you followed him on patrol? You could get yourself killed without even knowing he was Spider-Man.

So he nodded. Letting you pull his sweatshirt up to reveal the tattered suit you recognized as Spider-Mans. The more you saw, the more your eyes filled with tears, everything making sense.

“Peter...” you whispered, placing your hands flat on his chest as the sweatshirt fell over them. “Why... why didn’t you...” You trailed off.

Peter leaned into your touch, putting one of his hands on your face and the other on your cheek. “You know why,” He whispered.

And you did, of course, you did. All the stuff you read about Spider-Man, he definitely has a lot of enemies.

Tears fall from your face. His gloved hand came up to wipe your tears. His... gloved hand?

You started laughing. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed at your amusement. “What...?” He asked.

You kept giggling, “I didn’t even notice your hand. How were you gonna hide that?”

He looks down, “I didn’t even think...” His words trailed off into laughter, the two of you resting your foreheads on each other. Noses touching.

You pulled your hands out from under his sweatshirt, bringing them up to play with the back of his hair. Leaning somehow further into him.

Before you two can explode, Peter asks what you’ve been waiting for him to ask for years, “Can I- can I...” he stutters, shy to ask what he wanted to. You got the gist, nodding and pushing your lips into his.

Peter smiles into the kiss, pushing back with just as much enthusiasm. He pulls you from in front of him into his lap, licking your mouth to ask for entrance.

You immediately accept, trying to wordlessly express all you’ve felt for him. Praying he actually feels the same and isn’t just ‘lost in the moment.’

The anxiety bites you enough for you to reluctantly pull away from the kiss. Peter whines, trying to pull you back in. But quickly coming to his senses, “Are you okay” He asks, leaning back. Playing with a loose strand of your hair.

You nod, playing with his sweatshirt strings. “Is this... I dunno, serious? Like serious kissing?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Do you want it to be serious kissing?” He asks.

You nod, hiding your face from him in embarrassment.

He lifts your head to face him. “Good,” He says, pulling you back into the kiss. Quickly breaking it to speak, “I want it too.”

#peter parker #spider man #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker angst #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!spiderman #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker hurt to comfort #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter angst #tasm!peter hurt to comfort #andrew!peter imagine

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 25- Sex Pollen

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 2.8k

Warnings-smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, mutual pining, friends to lovers, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare, fluff, feelings

Notes- This is my longest kinktober by far but it’s also one of my personal favorites! I originally looked for a soft prompt for him, but then I saw sex pollen and said YES! A little more unexpected! Enjoy! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates. Reblogs highly appreciated!

Peter let out a deep breath as he collapsed into his little apartment through the window. His Spiderman suit stuck to his skin as he sweated more than usual, and he quickly peeled it off with a huff. It should have been a simple “run out and catch the bad guy” evening, but said bad guy had something up his sleeve. While in the heat of battle, Peter got stuck with something and suddenly felt loopy and disoriented. The enemy cackled and took the opportunity to flee. While he normally could have gone after him, the way his mind swam and blood raced made him turn around and go back home.

“What the hell?” Peter whispered to himself as the room spun around him. It was unusual for anything to affect him like this, and it made him worry; something was off. His skin burned and his blood boiled… and his cock was rock hard. “Maybe a cold shower,” he muttered to himself as he stumbled into the bathroom.

The moment the cool water hit his skin, Peter exhaled deeply. Before getting in, he made sure to save the needle that stuck his skin so he could examine it later, but suddenly, that was the last thing on his mind. Just as Peter got himself to relax, he heard his apartment door unlock and open and your voice echoed through the small space.

“Peter?” you called out, “You here?” you dropped the key he gave you and made your way into his tiny bedroom, “Still in the shower, Pete? Did you forget again?”

Peter called your name as he nearly tripped getting out of the shower. As he listened to you, his cock stiffened more and he felt like it was guiding his movements. Before he knew it, Peter stood in the doorway of his bathroom, dripping wet, naked and rock hard as his gaze burned into you. He breathed heavily as he stared at the way your mouth dropped open and you spun around in embarrassment.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean…” you shielded your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest, “It’s game night,” your voice sounded meek, “I’ll wait on the couch til you’re ready.”

“Wait,” Peter darted across the room in a blink and grabbed onto your wrist, “I need you,” his tone was low as he cock twitched and his skin felt like it was on fire. He had no idea what came over him, but he guessed it had something to do with whatever he was hit with.

“Pete…” you gasped as you turned around and met his gaze, “Are you ok?” you asked as you noticed how red and hot his skin was. His jaw was clenched tighter than you had ever seen and there was a look in his eyes that was never there before. You had no idea what, but you knew instantly something was off.

Peter groaned your name as he yanked you forward and crashed your lips together in a heated kiss. You squealed against his lips, but you quickly relaxed into his touch. He was your best friend, but you couldn’t deny your growing feeling for him over the years. You never said anything though, too afraid of destroying your friendship to take that risk, so you pined from afar.

He let out a low, guttural sound that made your pussy throb as he pulled you flush against his naked body and guided you over to his bed. With what looked like no effort at all, Peter spun you around and pushed you onto the mattress. You looked up at him with wide eyes as you took in the sight of him naked… and hard, before you.

But Peter didn’t stand still for long, and he crawled on top of you with a groan of your name and took your lips with his again. There was a darkness in his eyes that would have frightened you if it were anyone else. But this was Peter… your Peter, and you trusted him not to hurt you even if you knew something was going on with him.

You moaned into his mouth as you lifted your arms and let him tug off your shirt. He broke away from the kiss for a moment just to lift it off in one swift motion, and as he did, you got a better look at his face. You gasped when you saw the feral look in his eyes, almost as if it wasn’t him behind them. And his face looked red, as if he spent too long in the sun.

“Pete…?” you whispered his name as you cupped his face. You wanted this for so long, but you also wanted to make sure he was ok.

Something about the tone of your voice made something snap within him. Peter shook his head and suddenly your soft, sweet Peter was back. His mouth dropped open in surprise as he realized he was naked… and on top of you, currently shirtless. He exclaimed your name but immediately followed it with a whimper.

“Push me away,” his voice was strained as his arms trembled on either side of you, as if he was physically holding himself back.

“What’s wrong, Peter? You can talk to me. Let me help you.”

“I can’t explain now,” he told you as he dropped his eyes down, “I got hit with something,” he took a breath, “And right now all I can think about is fucking you senseless.” Truthfully, Peter felt like he would explode if he didn’t fuck you then and there, but he always thoght of others first, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if you got hurt because of him.

All the breath felt like it was punched out of your gut. Emotions ran high as you processed the little bit he told you. You knew there was more to the story, but the urgency of the situation took precedence.

“So please,” he begged as he clenched his hands into fists. His hair fell onto his forehead and stuck there from the sweat, “Push me away… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tears filled the corners of your eyes and you reached up and cupped his face, “I’m not going anywhere,” your voice was soft yet firm.

“But…”

“Let me help you… Whatever this is, let me help you, Pete,” you sighed, “I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.” Besides… I want this.

Peter stilled as his eyes shot back up to meet yours. He thought he would find doubt in your face, but you held steady. Even not knowing anything about his situation, you were ready to do anything to help him… much like he would have done had this been the other way around. His cock strained between your bodies and suddenly that rush of extreme need pulsed through him again.

“Ok,” his tone was low, “But promise me…” he strained to speak through heavy breaths, “If you need to… Push me away… Lock me in here, knock me out, anything. Just make sure I never hurt you.”

“Alright,” you breathed.

With that, the darker Peter took over and he captured your lips with his once more. This time, the kiss was harsh, rough, deep, as if he dried to devour you through your mouth. You moaned softly as you felt his entire body weight over yours… and you were surprised how much of a comfort it was.

Peter growled into you as he reached down and clawed at your pants, eager to get them off of you. You lifted your hips for him so he could tug them down, breaking away from the kiss in the process. In just two hard tugs, Peter yanked them off along with your panties, leaving you just as bare as he was. A rush of embarrassment ran though you as you felt your own skin warm as well.

And the way Peter’s darkened eyes soaked you in only made the nerves fire up more.

“Fuck,” he whispered through gritted teeth as he covered his body with yours again.

Peter’s tongue dove into your mouth as he rocked his hips against yours. You moaned as you felt how hard he was against you, and the way he ravaged you went right to your cunt. Just as you were about to wrap your arms and legs around him, Peter shifted positions and kneeled himself between your open legs.

He groaned as he poked the tip of his cock against your entrance, and just that sensation made you cry out in pleasure. Neither of you recognized the noise he let out as he thrust himself into you more harshly than he normally would have. You screamed out as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and dug into his skin as he filled you. Without much preparation, you felt a tinge of pain, but mostly you felt pleasure. It was pleasure because it was Peter… the man you trusted more than anyone and the man you wanted for so long.

Peter didn’t give you much time to adjust and within moments he thrust himself in and out of you. You cried out as you clung to him and let him fuck you. The bed creaked as he rocked his hips against yours in a fast, harsh pace. Vaguely, you wondered if whatever happened to him made him like this, but at the same time you couldn’t complain. It was rough and hard, yet it was amazing.

“Fuck…” Peter growled as he thrust into you faster, desperately chasing his climax.

After only a few minutes, Peter groaned and came hard inside you. You whimpered as you felt him spill into you and a shiver ran up your spine. Sweat lined your brow as you dropped your head back onto the mattress as he slowed his pace.

You let out a heavy sigh as you caressed his shoulders and thought he was finished, but you were wrong. Peter let out a noise of frustration and buried his face in the crook of your neck as you realized he still felt hard inside you. In fact, it almost felt like he was even harder than he started.

Peter bucked his hips against yours in an experimental thrust, and when you let out a moan, he was encouraged to keep going. He propped himself back up on his hands and pounded into you once more. You cried out as the harsh and heavy pace made your mind swim in pleasure. All you could do was cling to him as he thrust into you, and you loved it.

With your name on his lips and his darkened eyes trained on your face, Peter came again. His mouth dropped open as a higher moan escaped as he filled you even more. You whined as you dug your nails into his skin while he slowed his pace once more. But this time, even though he was still hard, Peter seemed more like himself.

You flashed a brief smile up at him, “Maybe one more will do it,” you whispered, “Keep going… I’m ok.”

The low grunt Peter let out made you clench around him and without another word, he thrust into you again. This time, however, Peter lowered himself onto you and wrapped his arms around you. He held you close as he pounded into you again, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him right back.

“Shit… Sweetheart…” he moaned against your skin, “You’re amazing… You’re fucking amazing…”

“Peter…”

As you moaned loudly, Peter was spurred on even more and he picked up his pace. Skin slapped against skin as he rocked into you over and over again in an erratic and needy rhythm. You could tell he was chasing his high again, and you felt your own start to creep up. With the way he covered you and hit spots so deep inside you, you didn’t think you could last much longer yourself. And the way his hip bone hit your clit when he was fully inside you only made you scream louder.

“Fuck… Peter…”

“Baby…” was all he could say before his third climax took over him. Peter thrust into you hard and fast as he fell apart overtop of you. His strongest orgasm yet, Peter felt his seed spill out of you as he pumped even more inside. His body trembled as he fought to keep his rhythm; he felt you clench around his cock and he wanted you to cum too.

Peter soon got what he silently wished for and with just a few more thrusts you too came apart. You clawed at his back as your legs shook and you arched your back as you came around his cock. Peter gasped as he watched you ride out your high, and just the sight of you made him cum again.

Exhausted, Peter collapsed down on top of you with a huff. But, he was finally free of whatever venom pulsed through his veins, thanks to your help. He didn’t relax long, and suddenly his mind caught up to him and he pushed himself up to check on you.

“Hey,” Peter murmured your name, “Are you ok? Look at me.”

You didn’t even realize you closed your eyes, and when you opened them you saw your Peter’s face right in front of you, his brows furrowed in concern. The soreness and tiredness didn't even matter to you when he looked at you like that, and it made your heart skip a beat, “I’m fine,” you replied softly, “A little sore,” you laughed, “But ok.”

“I’m sorry,” he cupped your face, “Let me take care of you. Hang on.”

Before you could protest and ask him to just lay with you, Peter shot out of bed and grabbed a towel. He took such tender care in cleaning you up, first wiped your forehead before he dipped the towel between your legs and cleaned up the mess he made. Peter swallowed hard as he saw all of his cum dripping from your pussy and a fresh wave of heat ran through him.

“Pete? You ok?” you asked when you noticed the look on his face.

He looked up at you and smiled, “I’m good now,” he tossed the towel onto the floor and crawled back up to you, “Thanks to you,” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he caressed you, “Anything for you, Pete,” you breathed as you looked into his eyes, “Although this was definitely not the way I imagined us fucking for the first time,” you joked to lighten the mood.

He raised his eyebrows, “So you’ve thought about it,” he smirked.

Suddenly, you felt nervous again, “Yeah…” you confessed shyly as you dropped your gaze down.

He reached out and cupped your chin to make you meet his eyes again, “I have too,” his voice was hushed and gentle.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, unsure what to say next. You had thousands of thoughts and questions on your mind, but you had no idea where to start, “So, what happens now?” you decided to start with that question.

Peter let out a defeated sigh, “I guess I have some explaining to do,” he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, “I’m Spiderman, I got hit with something that made me incredibly horny, I promise to make this up to you, I promise to protect you, and I’ve been in love with you for years,” his confessions spilled one after the other, “I’m gonna spend hours eating you out if you’ll let me.”

“Uhh,” your mind short circuited from all the information you now had to process, “Wow,” you sighed as you pulled back enough to look into Peter’s eyes, “That was… unexpected,” you were still as you ran through everything in your head, and Peter stayed quiet and let you work through it all, “I mean, fuck you’re Spiderman!” you let out a short laugh, “But more importantly,” you paused, “I've been in love with you for a long time too.”

Peter laughed through the tears that formed in his eyes and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. This was slow, with no need to rush anymore. You leaned into the kiss and felt all the unspoken passions there, and you knew he felt yours as well.

“And I’m gonna take you up on your offer,” you smirked, “But I’ll need a raincheck… I’m too sore right now.”

The laugh Peter let out warmed your heart and he held you close as he settled you both down onto the bed, “Offer stands for whenever you need it… No expiration date.”

“How generous of you,” you giggled as you rested in his arms, “I’m glad I was here to help you though, Pete.”

“Me too,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t want it to have been anyone else,” he was about to say something else when you let out a soft snore in his arms. Peter kissed the top of your head and whispered, “Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you now.”

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ouralcohol · 2 years

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spiderman blurbs~

authour's note: I don't do blurbs~ but i had this thot, and i had to share it. i do write ocassionally and need to finish some other shit, but again, here we are. minors dni

warning: sexual situations. possessive peter x reader.

You were perusing through your bookshelf as per usual. You had an endless collection of books that had gone unread because of time. Time was always, always ripping you away from what you really wanted to do. Always making you feel guilty for the fact that you didn't do enough in general. At least you felt that way. Finding a book that you hadn't read could take a bit sometimes, but luckily not today. Your fingers found the spine of it quickly as you pulled it out of the bookshelf. Smiling to yourself you looked at the title. Your fingers were about to turn to the first page when you felt a hand on your waist. You audibly gasped, but then laughed as you knew exactly who it was.

Him.

You had been together for quite some time, but it felt like yesterday that you met him. For some reason whenever he crept up behind you always made you get goose skin all over your body. Peter Parker was good at sneaking in behind you, you'd give him that. "Can I help you?" You questioned him while continuing to look down at your book. Your fingers carefully flip to the first page. It had been a book that you had been wanting to read for a while.

"Perhaps." His voice whispered at the shell of your ear. You held the shiver that wanted to course through your spine, that would be a giveaway for him. He always wanted to be in control, wanted to know what he could do to you without doing much to you. He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Hmmm?" You absentmindedly said while re-reading the first paragraph over six times. It was a tad bit difficult to concentrate when so much was happening already.

What you noticed was that Peter's hand slowly crept downwards making you close the book and focus on the sensations that he was giving you. "You know." He whispered again, causing you to drop the book that was in your hand. The truth was, you did, but you loved playing this game with him. You loved watching him come undone in the sense that you didn't give him enough information, he had to guess. It was something that turned you on beyond belief, hence playing it at the moment. You thought he would be out, but he wasn't. He was here. With you. And only with you.

"I'm sorry I don't know what you're going on about." You breathed. Peter continued to move at an agonizing pace, but once he found what he was looking for, he growled. "Mine." He simply stated while grabbing your mound through your clothes. You whimpered at his touch, "Yours." You exclaimed. "Only yours."

#peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #spiderman #alch's blurbs #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker andrew garfield #cliffhangers

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mrshipsmcgee · 1 year

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*****a drunk blurb 4 u*****

You and your best friend, Peter had decided to attend Phi Alpha Sigma’s Spring Mixer out of boredom. The two of you were right on theme for the ‘Iconic Couples’ party, dressing up as Westley and Princess Buttercup from The Princess Bride. Peter was in a black thrasher shirt, black skinny jeans with his head covered and wrapped with a black mask, sporting a ridiculous, last minute, black eye liner mustache you had drawn above his upper lip, and you were wearing a floor length, red long-sleeved dress.

“We clean up nice,” Peter said as the two of you stood against the wall of the fraternity’s crowded living room, both holding red solo cups filled with Jungle Juice.

“Wait, what?!” You yell, trying to speak over the thumping music, leaning towards Peter with your hand cupped beside your mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the music!”

“I said that we clean up nice!” He yells, leaning closer to you - the smell of alcohol wafting in your face.

“God, Pete! How much have you drank?” You yell, stepping closer to him, stepping on his toe in the process and stumbling a bit. Peter’s wide hand gently spreads across the small of your back as he sloppily steps towards you, trying to balance himself and you in his embrace.

He lets out a small laugh, awkwardly pulling his hand from your back just as his honey eyes meet yours, pausing for a moment as he smiles down at you.

“What?” You smirk, squinting your eyes at him before you take a sip from your solo cup.

He licks his lips, eye to eye with you as a soft blush grows on his cheeks - “You look beautiful, Princess.”

“Did you just say that I look beautiful?” You speak into his ear, your bottom lip accidentally brushing against his flesh - immediately sending tingles down your spine just as Peter turns his face towards you, noses brushing together as he yells, “What?!”

You both pause, wide-eyed staring at one another, feeling like the only two people left in the world though the party rages around you.

Peter blinks, swallowing hard before his shaking hand raises, gently hooking his finger below your jaw and tilting your ear towards his mouth.. his lips brush against your skin as he says, “I think that you’re beautiful.”

“Peter, you’re drunk,” you laugh, though your stomach was actively tying into knots.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just in love with you,” he says, clearing his throat as his finger tips delicately trace your hand, softly lacing his fingertips in between yours.

Your eyes meet again. He raises his brows, nodding towards you as he repeats, “I’m in love with you.”

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inej-ruination-ghafa · 2 years

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BLACK CAT - A.G!P.P

Warnings: occasional fluff, fighting, a tad bit of angst, mentions of blood

Pairing: Andrew Garfield! Peter Parker x Fem!reader

Summary: Peter may have spider senses but he can't figure out the alter ego of his best friend Y/N. That is until they cross paths, leading them to dangers unknown.

Wordcount: 2.3k

He knew something was up. Peter sat on the roof of the school, looking out at the skyline. You were acting so weird lately, lying about where you were, about what you were doing. Although in your defense, he was doing the same thing.

And then he saw her. The Black Cat. She was a masked vigilante who was going around in the night.

Right now, she was jumping over the buildings, chasing after a man in a grey ski mask. Peter wasn't quite sure where she got her leather suit from but he needed their number, his suit wasn't up to shape.

What he didn't know was that the person behind the suit of the Black Cat was you.

You were the person who he kept seeing, who kept interrupting his attempts to save the New York people.

The next day at school, you sat next to your best friend, the two of you laughing at lunch about something or other.

"Okay then, now Spiderman, he just seems to be a really hot guy," you said, raising your eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Peter choked on his food, "What?" He asked and you looked over, laughing at the blush that began to spread across his face.

"Swinging across all those towers? He must be so ripped underneath that suit. And he seems so sweet, whoever he's dating must be one lucky lady," you continued, watching as Peter shuffled around in his chair.

"No, he looks so lanky and tall and is probably like a thirty year old man," he explained, trying to divert the conversation away from spiderman. The fact that his best friend who he'd been in love with since they were children thought that spiderman was attractive was too much for his ego, "And anyway, who says spiderman has a girlfriend,"

Harry walked up to them, sitting down at the table, "You know who is hot? That Black Cat," Harry said and now it was your turn to feel awkward and blush, "That leather outfit does her wonders, she must be so smoking under that mask,"

"Come on Harry," Peter shook his head as he said that. It was almost like he felt jealous, almost uncomfortable talking about this girl in such a way.

"Yeah, she probably doesn't appreciate that," you said, trying to move the conversation on from the way that you looked in the outfit. The idea of it was never to look sexy, it was meant to be light and hard to see in the dark.

"Whatever man," he said with a chuckle, taking a bite out of his sandwich. He started up a conversation, not noticing the distant expression on both of his friends' faces.

That night you were out on patrol, going to an area that you knew the mob were going to be at the local deli. You stood around the corner, watching as they walked in before confronting them.

"Come on boys, there's no need to steal," you said, holding your hands up as you began to fight against them.

You had trained in martial arts since a child and you were able to hold your own against these stronger men.

You had only one guy left, a large man in a white suit that wouldn't seem to take any of the punches you would throw his way. He punched you in the gut, knocking you into the wall. You coughed, trying to take deep breaths and gather your senses.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" A voice asked and you turned around to see Spiderman standing in the doorway.

He jumped down, webbing the man and knocking him unconscious against the wall. He slumped down, joining the rest of the mob as they lay on the floor.

"You know I had him," you said, looking at the now unconscious man.

"Sure you did," Peter said before walking out. You followed him, chasing him into an alleyway yelling his name.

"Spiderman!" You yelled out and he stopped. You approached him, pushing your finger against his chest, "I don't need your help, I don't need anyone's help okay. So stay out of my business,"

It started to rain and you scoffed, looking around in annoyance. He chuckled, you almost reminded him of someone, someone from school. It reminded him of you.

"Whatever you want Black Cat," he said before swinging off.

You stomped your foot, scoffing as you looked around, "What an idiot," you said to yourself, "Thinks he's like high and mighty,"

You gasped as you saw him hanging from the fire escape of one of the buildings, "You know, it's not nice to talk about someone behind their back," he said and you could almost see the smirk on his face.

You huffed, "You really aren't going to leave me alone are you," you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He hung upside down, looking at you in the pouring rain. "You're gonna catch a cold," he said, ignoring your comment and instead only noticing that you were soaking wet and nearly shaking.

"I don't care," you said, folding you arms against your chest, "I don't need you to lecture me,"

"Thanks for saving me back there, I always thought you were a criminal, you've just been trying to help everyone," he explained and you scoffed, looking at Spiderman.

You both stared at each other, breathing heavily. It was like you were being pulled together by some sort of magnetic force and even though you didn't know who he was, you could trust him.

You reached for the place where his mask is and he froze, "You can't see my face," he muttered, voice seeming lower than it was before.

"I won't," you whispered, rolling it down slightly to reveal his lips. You both smiled as you leant in, lips touching against each other.

It was perfect, you placed your hands either side of his face, the kiss becoming more and more passionate by the second. It was like trying a drug, and now that you'd had a taste, you were completely hooked on him. Addicted.

And he felt the same. Kissing you made him forget about his fruitless crush. If only you both knew that the person you really wanted to kiss, to love, was right in front of you.

When you pulled away, both of your hearts were pounding and you felt like you couldn't breathe.

You both leaned back in until you heard the loud drumming of sirens, the noise ricocheting off of the walls and echoing in your ears.

"I should go help," he said, allowing you to pull the mask back up his face, "And you, you should go home," he jumped down, taking your hands in his.

"Okay," you said, pressing a kiss to his mask clad cheek before you walked away. You turned around, looking at him over your shoulder before walking home.

When you sat in your room that night, you felt slightly giddy from kissing the man. It wasn't your first kiss, you had kissed Peter in second grade for spin the bottle, but it felt so different. You had literally said earlier that day you thought he was attractive and God, he was a good kisser. But there was this sense of guilt as you realised you still had feelings for Peter even if you tried to cover them up. Spider Man's kiss may have been perfect, but if was a mistake

Two weeks later and you hadn't seen Spiderman since then. You were walking along the bridge when you saw three men from the mob were trying to mug a young woman.

"Hey, why don't you pick on someone your own size jerks, jeez," you said and the woman ran away as the men turned their attention onto you.

They ran towards you and you hit him in the stomach, watching as he fell against the floor. Whilst you were fighting against the men, Spiderman swung in and he fought them off.

You stepped back, not wanting to blow your cover seeing as you were not in your suit anymore.

"Stay there ma'am," he said and you chuckled but stepped back, standing against the edge of the bridge as you watched him fight them off.

One of them set off a bomb and you watched as it knocked the part of the bridge tou were on completely. It began to crack and fall off and with it you fell.

"Help!" You called out. He turned around, heart suddenly in his throat as he realised you were falling, falling down into the river.

He hit the last man round the head, knocking him out, before jumping after you. He shot a web and it managed to grab you. He shot another web out and it latched onto the sturdy part of the bridge, holding you safe.

"Spiderman!" You yelled out, voice laced with fear and panic. You were hanging on by only the webs of this man who you were beginning to fall for. You were breathing heavily and you were so, so scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you couldn't breath as you looked up at him.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm gonna get you up," he said, grunting as he tried to hold on. The mob members that had bombed the bridge were gone now, but you both had to get back up.

You just held your breath, watching as he began to pull you up by the web. You could only think of one thing in that moment. God, you really wanted to tell Peter how you felt about him.

He pulled you close and you held on tight. Peter was breathing heavily, he was glad that you were okay. He didn't care about the fact that he kissed Black Cat anymore, he was just glad that he was able to keep you safe.

"It's okay, I've got you," he said, beginning to pull both of you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding on tightly as you waited to be pulled up.

When you both got back up, the crowd that had gathered applauded and one of the paramedics rushed towards you, seeing the blood running down your forehead.

"Thank you," you whispered to him before he ran off, swinging into the distance. You just watched him go away, a smile on your face as everything became clear.

You sat in the stretcher, ignoring the paramedics as they helped the people around you. And then you spotted him.

"Peter," you said, rushing towards him as you saw him in the crowd. You jumped off the stretcher in the ambulance and jumped into his arms.

"I heard about what happened, I came as fast as I could," He explained, even though he actually was the one that saved you, you could never know, "Are you okay?"

"Just a bit spooked, they want to take me for precautions," you explained. Looking into those perfect brown eyes, you knew that you were safe and everything was going to be okay.

"I need to talk to you," you both said at the same time, laughing at each other, "No, you go first," you said at the same time again.

"Okay. Listen Peter, when I was up there, I just thought about the fact that I wanted to tell you how I felt," you explained, neither of you breaking eye contact, "I love you so much and-"

He cut you off, "I love you too," he said before pulling you in for a kiss, lips pressing against each other in a passionate way that reminded you of him.

You both pulled away, eyes wide as you realised the truth. His lips were so familiar, that brilliant kiss was familiar. He was Spiderman.

"You're him," you said, a smile on your face. The reason why you felt so compelled to kiss Spiderman that night was because you knew, subconsciously, that he was Peter Parker.

"And you're her," he said, a wide grin on his face.

You began to ramble on about how you must have known. Peter smiled to himself, he loved it when you rambled on but right now, he just wanted to kiss you again.

"Shut up," he whispered, pulling you in by the waist and dipping you slightly as he kissed you again, lips moving against each others in a perfect way, like you were made for each other.

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saiilorstars · 2 years

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In the Scheme of the Multiverse

Characters: Maribel (OFC), Tom, Andrew & Tobey!Spidermans, MJ, Ned, Strange

Summary: Three Peter Parkers are united to help cure their enemies to save one world. Maribel Jenavid, a Multiverse expert, aids them in their quest despite growing weaker as the multiverse cracks. In the process, she learns about her other doppelgangers, more specifically Peter 3's best friend "Mar" who inexplicably cut ties with him. Maribel then reveals the secret her doppelganger kept that could change Peter's entire perspective.

taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic

Maribel’s Masterlist

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Continues in Part 2

A/N: In which I screw the itty details of the plot to fit my story :)

Part 1

Stuck in a different world was something Peter never thought he would have to deal with. Although, the mere idea that the multiverse was real was beyond exhilarating — it was perhaps the first time in a long time that he felt that kind of emotion. All he could do for the moment was stick to the shadows until he found someone who could help him.

And then he stepped out of the shadows and suddenly there were mobs of people, some angry — some trying to help him out? — trying to grab him on the street. Peter had no idea what to do except to literally swing out of there…and then someone grabbed his arm…and someone else grabbed his other arm. The crowd was going to swallow him in the middle of the street.

"HEY!" He managed to hear in the midst of all the chaos.

The mob of people froze in their tracks when a blinding light zapped on the side. All they saw were the remnants of some kind of white portal closing in on itself. At the same time, another portal opened up right behind them. Peter jumped with the foreign touch of hands on his shoulders.

"You're coming with me!" He heard before the light consumed his vision.

Next thing he knew, he was in an alleyway, stumbling away from the pair of hands.

"It's alright, I'm a friend," the voice, now clearly a woman, told him as he came to a stop.

He breathed hard, in and out, and stared at the woman through his mask. She herself wore one — a deep blue and white super suit — as well. Her long black hair cascaded over her chest and even behind the mask, he could see bright blue eyes curiously watching him back.

She raised her hands in front of her. "Friend," she repeated.

"Did you — was that light —" Peter spun around trying to catch sight of the white light he saw a minute ago. "Where'd it go!? Who the — was that you!?" He finally faced the woman again.

The woman nodded slowly. "I get it, multiverse conundrum is confusing and scary for those who are dragged into it. You happened to land in the one universe where Spiderman is basically a fugitive of the law."

"Not as crazy as you think," Peter had to say, "I'm more stuck on the fact that there's a multiverse and…" He paused for a second and gazed at the woman again, "You know about it. You know I'm not from here?"

"Mhm," the woman nodded.

"How?"

"Well, for starters, I actually know Spiderman from this world. And you —" she pointed at him, "—are a couple inches too tall. Plus, your suit's all wrong."

"Hey!" Peter's hands flung to his chest as he checked out his suit.

"And crossing the multiverse is sort of what I do," the woman finished off with a bang.

Peter dropped his arms on his sides, mouth gaping open behind his mask. "What? You cross worlds?"

The woman nodded. "Aha, my neat little trick if you'd like to give it a name. I felt the disturbance as soon as the others started coming in."

"Others?"

"Others." The woman looked up at the dark night sky. "Sorry it took me so long to find you. I've been trying to track you guys but I think Peter's pretty much gathered them all. There's too many for me to individually single out."

"You still sort of saved me," Peter had to give the woman her credit. "With your…multiverse powers…?"

The woman chuckled lightly. "Take it in, I know it's hard. You deserve 5 minutes of processing."

But of course those 5 minutes were interrupted when an orange portal swirled opened into existence. Peter straightened up immediately, ready for the fight that time. The woman, however, turned around calmly.

"Oh, that makes sense," she remarked.

Peter did a double take at her, finally noticing that she was not frightened nor alarmed by the portal. "What does?"

"The Sorcerers are getting involved now," she mumbled and started moving towards the portals, "This is their mess."

"Peter! Peter!" Someone called from the other end of the portal.

The woman came to a stop, once again tilting her head.

"Peter, c'mon!"

"Are they calling…me?" Peter pointed at himself, suddenly placing all of his trust on the woman in front of him.

"Yes…and no…" the woman said slowly.

"Bel-bel!?"

The woman let out a breathy laugh. "How did these idiots get a hold of that!?"

Peter felt the entire atmosphere change all of a sudden. The woman continued to walk forwards, more casual now and gestured to him to follow her.

"Maribel! Thank God!" MJ ran up to the woman as soon as she crossed through the portal and threw her arms around the woman for a hug. "Thank God you found him!"

"Again — yes and no…" 'Maribel' said slowly and prompted MJ to let her go.

Ned was still holding the portal open when Peter crossed through. Like everyone else, Ned knew that was not his best friend.

"Maribel…" MJ stepped back to stand with Ned, her eyes locked on the Spiderman-suited man who was not Spiderman.

Peter, meanwhile, was preoccupied with the little that he heard. "Maribel?"

"And there goes secret identities," Maribel said with a light sigh. She pulled her mask off from her face and revealed herself.

Out of shock, Peter did the same thing and yanked his mask off. His eyes were wide to the brim. "Maribel?" This had to be dumb luck.

Maribel raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm getting the sense that you know me."

Peter nodded slowly.

"Well we don't know him! Who is he!?" MJ exclaimed, her brow furrowing at Peter. "Who are you!?"

"I'm Peter Parker," the young man introduced himself, although his gaze seemed permanently stuck on Maribel.

"No, you're not," MJ shook her head fervently.

"Oh, yes he is," Maribel said, coming by the girl's side and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Because just like everyone else, Peter — our Peter — has doppelgangers."

"I thought doppelganger were supposed to be look the same…" Ned remarked.

"Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't," Maribel shrugged, "There are versions of ourselves in every world — sometimes even in the opposite sex. It's a whole complicated mess you don't need to worry about. What I need to know is what the hell have you been up to?" She turned on the two teenagers with a motherly disapproving stare. "Aren't you idiots weeks from graduation?"

"W-well, yeah, but…things happened…" Ned said, bringing his hands in front of himself. "Bad things…"

"Peter had Dr. Strange try doing a spell that would make everyone forget that he was spiderman but it sort of went wrong and it started pulling people from other worlds who knew Peter Parker instead," MJ said in one long, rushed ramble.

Maribel brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed it. "You are idiots. And I'm sorry —" she suddenly exclaimed, "—but Strange went for this idea!? Where the hell is he right now!? Why isn't he fixing it!?"

MJ exchanged looks with Ned, both clearing agreeing not to answer.

Maribel raised an eyebrow at the pair. "What?" She demanded, her voice hard.

"It's just…" MJ fiddled her fingers together, "Peter sort of left him…in another location…possibly Siberia? I don't know."

Maribel gaped. "What!?"

"But it's okay because now you're here!" MJ once again threw her arms around Maribel. "And you can cross worlds and use your powers to help fix this! Please fix this!"

"Wait a minute!" Peter finally called, waving his hands above his head. He claimed everyone's attention. "What the hell are you talking about!? Maribel — please just answer me."

"And where'd you find this guy?" Ned asked Maribel and jerked a thumb at Peter.

Maribel sighed as she detached herself from MJ's grip. "I found him on the streets escaping the mob of people who now hate Spiderman. I'm getting senses everywhere right now. My radar's going haywire." She turned towards Peter, offering the confused man a soft smile. "You know me, right?"

Peter nodded silently. It was exceptionally fascinating Maribel looked exactly the same as the version that he knew. The suit and the powers were quite literally out of this world but everything else about her was the same. It was comforting…in the midst of all the chaos.

"My name's Maribel Jenavid," she walked up to Peter and held a hand out, "And I promise you that in this world, we can be friends too. You can trust me."

"But can we trust him?" MJ said defensively.

"Yes," Peter said, offended at the insinuation. "I am Peter Parker!"

"He is," Maribel said calmly, "Just not from here and given the recent events that happened — yes, I've seen the news —" MJ and Ned shut down very quickly, "—I don't think we have time to argue about this. Trust me, I'm the multiverse expert."

"How?" Peter found himself asking. He kept looking at Maribel from head to toe, trying to make sense of it all.

Maribel shrugged. "Always been like that. Born with it."

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. "Born with it?" Maribel nodded and just as he was about to ask more things, Maribel turned to the teens.

"We need to find Peter now," she told them, "In his state, he can do some damage."

MJ and Ned agreed and started explaining to Maribel that had been their plan all along and that they had instead brought a different Peter to them. Maribel understood the mechanics of sorcery was not at all on Ned's resume but motivated him to try again. He was, after all, Peter's best friend. So, he did try again.

And he somehow brought in another Peter Parker, this one slightly older than the Peter with Maribel.

"Oh dear Lord," Maribel slapped a hand over her forehead.

MJ looked ready to murder Ned. "DUDE!"

"I'm trying!" Ned said helplessly.

"MJ?" The third Peter gazed at Maribel profusely, seeming fascinated.

"MJ?" The Peter that had come with Maribel stared in confusion.

Maribel flipped her head between the two Peters, bemused herself. "Maribel Jenavid," she told the confused Peter, "Maribel — M — Jenavid — J. MJ," she smiled, "Michelle Jones over here," she gestured towards MJ, "saw that little tidbit. She sees things that others don't. We're the two MJs."

MJ raised her hand in the peace gesture.

Maribel then looked over at the third Peter. "But how did you know that?"

Third Peter's eyebrows raised as his lips curved into a wide, knowing smile. "You're MJ," he said simply like that would answer the question completely.

Maribel deadpanned the man, figuring that was all she was going to get out of him for the moment. "Anyways," she said sharply, eyes flickering to the group, "We still need to find the other Peter. Can we please do that now?"

Everyone agreed and started discussing what places this earth's Peter would go to. With two more Peters on the clock, they were able to deduce a spot that could potentially lead to the last Peter.

Maribel paved the way with a portal, once again exhibiting her powers. They found Peter on the rooftop of his high school, mourning (in the worst way possible) his aunt's death. They were only barely able to convince their Peter not to send every multiverse guest back to their own world.

They headed downstairs where they picked up on the previous plans to finish curing the other guests. Maribel had no idea about the plans and yet wasn't surprised the teens had come up with it in the first place. Their hearts were always in the right places, no matter how messy the circumstances got.

Maribel was all set to help with whatever she could, though she confessed she had no real knowledge about scientific cures. She instead set out to help the younger ones and with that left the school lab for a few minutes. She returned with a first aid kit for the youngest Peter and with MJ's help, she patched him up as best as she could.

"You'll be okay but you need to stop moving so much," Maribel chuckled as Peter winced each time they touched his skin. Granted he was overly hurt this time but there was a limit and he was crossing it.

"Thanks, Mar," Peter mumbled.

Maribel gently hooked her finger under his chin and tilted his head up. "That's nurse Mar to you, mister." She happened to look up and noticed the other Peters looking at them. She bared a small smile at them and motioned MJ to take over. She figured they needed to talk anyway.

Maribel walked a little a while away when she felt her stomach flip. The echoes of it spread throughout her body, making it harder to reach the windows in the room. She gazed up at the sky and wondered where the cracks were coming from this time, and who was coming out of them. She wrapped an arm around her stomach, focusing on her breathing until she could feel normal again.

"Mar?"

Maribel glanced over her shoulder. The Peter she'd found was approaching her cautiously.

"I-I mean Maribel…yeah…" He said with a hitched breath, "Yeah…" He stuck his hands inside the white lab coat he'd taken from the cabinet. It was way better than parading around in his suit. "Are you okay? You seem a little…off…?"

Maribel nodded and unwrapped her arm from her waist. "I'm, um, well…I'm connected to the multiverse and its stability. Right now, it's cracking in places so when it cracks…I feel them. And there's multiple cracks right now."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Oh my God — it's hurting you!?" Should she be the one getting patched up!?

Maribel let out a quiet chuckle. "I'm okay, just…just like a light cold, you know?"

"But the logic is, the more trouble the multiverse is in, the more trouble you're in," Peter said, "And it's like you said, there's multiple cracks right now."

Maribel still dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand. "Why not instead tell me how you know me, hm? I'm always curious to know what my doppelgangers are like. Are we friends?"

Peter lowered his head instantly. "Um…sort of…"

"Sort of?"

"Well, it's complicated…" Peter sighed, "Mar — Maribel — and I…we used to be friends…"

Maribel paused and turned to face Peter. Suddenly she wasn't very eager about her other self. "What do you mean? Are we not — we're not friends?"

Peter sighed and shook his head. "No."

"But…but why?" Maribel glanced over at her Peter, unable to believe there was a version of her who decided not to be friends with him anymore.

Peter gave a long shrug of his shoulders, still looking pretty hurt over the fact. His lips pursed together while he thought about the question he never really found an answer to. "Dunno," he ultimately said, "I mean, we were close friends. We had a group — me, her, our friend Gwen Stacy and Harry Osborn and we were all good." Peter stopped for a second to gauge Maribel's reaction at the new names. She was all blank. Peter should have figured and because he hadn't, he looked between Maribel and his counterpart with his friends. "Okay, how do you know them?" He asked helplessly. "No offense but you're older than them? What, you tutor them?"

Maribel smiled sadly. "It's a long story. We-we fought on the same side…then aliens happened and-and time travel and…suddenly, the people Peter looked up to died. The remaining adults either died or they're just somewhere else and I have no idea what Dr. Strange is doing right now so…so I guess I just sort of saw myself as the only remaining adult in their lives," Maribel gazed at her young friends, her smile fading away, "They're still so young and…" she shrugged, "I couldn't turn my head away. Plus, I'm sort of a teacher so this is like an extension of my job."

Peter nodded. He respected Maribel about ten times more now. It seemed like the kind of thing she would do.

"What about you?" Maribel surprised him with the sudden question. "What-what happened between us? Did we get into a fight?"

Peter had to shrug again, and sadly. "No, no, there was…there was never any argument, no fighting. One day she just…stopped hanging out with us. First it was excuses that she couldn't meet with us or suddenly she had last minute changes. Then, she just stopped answering our calls and our texts. At school she would sit far away from us, go in the opposite direction." Peter had missed Maribel's strange gaze the more he thought about those moments. The pain in his heart still felt pretty raw. "In retrospect I could have done more but then I became, you know, Spiderman and I had new things to handle and deal with. I-I lost my uncle, and-and then we lost Gwen. Harry and I couldn't cope and Mar, she just — she just slipped through the cracks." Peter's eyes watered up real fast, the emotions taking him over in record time that it concerned Maribel for a second. "I should have paid more attention to her but I — there was so much going on and…now it's too late. Me being Spiderman is what killed one of my friends. I think Mar is just better being away from me."

Maribel could only wonder what that must have been like, going through one loss after that other. For this Peter, it was obvious that the hurt was still like it had just happened yesterday.

"I don't believe that," she said calmly, her lips spreading into a soft smile, "Because you seem like the type who would do anything to protect their friends. I don't know what the other me is like but I want to believe that we have something in common."

"Yeah?"

Maribel nodded. "It's that we would do anything to protect the people we care about too. Do you know where my family is right now?"

"Um, no…"

"They're far away from me because I would rather they think that I ran away than have them know what I do." Maribel raised her hands, allowing her energy to swirl around her fingers. "And do you know when I left them and my friends?"

Peter felt a dread start up in his stomach. "When?" He swallowed hard.

Maribel knew that he knew what was coming. Her smile curved down sadly. "When I was in high school. Senior year."

Peter actually felt the air leave his lungs. He stared long and hard at Maribel as if begging her to say that it wasn't true, that he hadn't missed that too. But Maribel — his Maribel — had stopped talking to him so suddenly. Whenever he managed to find a moment with her, she was so nervous — almost terrified — and she never touched him. Her hands were always behind her back, in her pockets, or her arms were crossed super tightly. Had he really been that engulfed with his own issues that he had missed the fact one of his best friends had developed powers?

Maribel could only watch so much of Peter falling deep into thoughts, no doubt of self guilt. "You couldn't have known," she said simply, "I am an exceptional liar. Duped everyone."

"Not me," said Peter, his voice short of breaking, "She wasn't supposed to dupe me."

"Don't take it personal," Maribel said, "If she was like me, then her powers must have been explosive. They were disastrous, Peter. She just wanted to keep you safe."

Peter would argue the hell out of that if he hadn't done the same thing. Spiderman was the reason Gwen died and even before that, he had thought it was just a safer idea to keep Maribel away. She got to live her life without interruptions, unlike Gwen and Harry who constantly had to stop what they were doing to help him deal with Spiderman stuff.

Maribel didn't know what else to say at this point. Her doppelganger had done exactly what she did on this earth and, like her, there were probably no regrets.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, knowing her question beyond stupid. It just gave her the excuse to keep talking to him.

Peter gave her a weak nod. "Yeah…" He mumbled. He walked away from her without so much of a glance in her direction. Somehow, it still sort of hurt Maribel. Her doppelganger made the call and she was paying for it.

~ 0 ~

A half hour had passed since the group got started on the series of cures. Maribel had left the lab a while ago, muttering something about a water cup. And as much distance as she had put between them, it didn't do anything for the Peter she had spoken with.

He couldn't get it out of his head that Mar had lied to him — had lied to everyone. She had cut off ties with everyone around her, and no doubt with her own family. If Peter remembered correctly, last time he heard, as soon as they graduated high school she had moved out of her parents' home and gotten a casual job somewhere in the city. He was guilty of never even trying to talk to her after graduation; Gwen and Harry did once but neither had been successful. Maribel turned both away.

All of those thoughts slowed his work down significantly. Each time Peter caught himself, he reprimanded himself and vowed to pick up his pace…only to repeat the cycle again.

"You okay?"

Peter realized he'd been staring way too much at the beakers in front of him then looked up to see the eldest of the doppelgangers smiling gently at him.

"Sorry," Peter shifted in his stool, straightening his body up to continue working.

Older Peter rested a hand on his shoulder. "What exactly did MJ tell you? Changed your whole atmosphere…"

"MJ?" Peter's head turned to the teenage MJ still sitting beside her boyfriend at the table ahead of them.

"No, the other one. Maribel," older Peter corrected himself, his smile turning into a chuckle, "Sorry, I'm not used to calling her that."

Peter's face scrunched and he finally turned his body to face the other Peter. "Wait a minute, how do you know her?"

Older Peter's smile was wide like a child facing a shelf of candy. "We go way back," he replied, "MJ — Maribel — and I were friends in high school."

A sourness took over Peter's face as he remembered what Maribel told him. "She didn't cut you out of her life then?"

Older Peter raised an eyebrow at his younger doppelganger. "What?"

Peter looked away. "Mar used to be one of my best friends too…and then one day she wasn't. Now I find out that she has these super powers and that she felt the need to distance herself from me and from the rest of our friends." With the silence that had fallen between them, Peter glanced at his doppelganger to see the latter not as shocked as one would have thought. It took very little for Peter to realize the doppelganger wasn't surprised because he already knew. "Did she—"

"I didn't let her," older Peter said quietly, "And that's not to say that you did something wrong. MJ was just different."

"How?" Peter asked warily.

"Looking at this doppelganger—" older Peter made a gesture to the open doorway," —this MJ has far stronger powers than my MJ. Her powers weren't as developed — they aren't. Most she can do is teleport. Things were different, easier, but it still took some work. Now we're finally somewhere good." The way he smiled led Peter to wonder just how "good" that place was.

In the end, Peter shook his head and turned back to his work on the table. "Doesn't matter. Haven't seen her in a long time now."

"I wouldn't give up," older Peter said, "Because if she's still alive, then she's still in your reach. Fair game."

"Fair game," Peter mumbled to himself with a light chuckle. He supposed that was right in some way.

"Maribel!" Ned exclaimed when the woman appeared under the doorway.

"What?" she sipped from a scratched up blue water cup. Even some of the stickers covering the entire thing were old and missing parts.

"You seriously went looking for that thing?" The youngest Peter looked at her strangely.

"Shut up," Maribel pointed at him then took another sip, "Mr. Lopez confiscated it from me for one stupid inappropriate sticker."

"So?" Youngest Peter shrugged. "He confiscates things from everyone here."

Maribel's face was entirely flat. "I'm a volunteer," she reminded sharply. "I'm—oh!" Her legs buckled and only barely managed to sustain herself against the door hinges.

"Maribel!" The group of teenagers dashed over to her, leaving the other Peters to stare bewilderedly

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Maribel assured them but she hadn't even felt when MJ took her water cup right out of her hand. "It's the multiverse — it's getting worse…"

Peter and Ned helped her walk to the closest stool and sat her down. MJ put the water cup on the table behind them.

"What's she talking about?" Oldest Peter asked, coming around the tables towards the group.

"Maribel's connected to the multiverse," youngest Peter explained, gaze fixated on the woman who was regulating her own breathing. "Each time there's a crack, she feels it." The guilt inside him was getting bigger and bigger. He wished he could take back everything that was happening. Everyone else was paying for his mistakes.

"I will be fine," Maribel insisted, reaching over for her water cup, "I'm just a little tired. How are the cures coming along?"

"We're almost done," youngest Peter said, "And then we're going to fix everything, okay?" He rested a hand on Maribel's shoulder. "You're going to be okay, Maribel, I swear."

Maribel nodded, smiling gently at him. "I know that, silly."

"And after this, we're all going to buy you big bouquets of sunflowers," youngest Peter rallied his friends to agree with him, which they did with the same comedic fervent nods.

Maribel laughed. Sunflowers were her favorite flowers. "Yeah, alright. Let's get back to work now."

There was nothing else to do except for that. Time was still running, after all.

~ 0 ~

"They're going to crucify you for using that place as the point of your fight," Maribel told the youngest Peter when he told the group where they would lure the misfits. "The Statue of Liberty is still being renovated."

Peter knew she had a point but he couldn't stop to think of another place just to avoid some more bad press. "It has to be there."

Maribel shook her head and walked to the table where her water cup stood, slightly wobbly on her feet.

"Hey Peter, here's your web cartridges," Ned stopped beside Peter with the cartridges.

"Oh, thanks, man," Peter said, taking the cartridges excitedly.

The oldest Peter looked at the cartridge curiously. "What's that for?"

"Uh, it's my web fluid. It's for my web shooters…" the youngest Peter answered slowly, growing confused, "Why?"

Instead of verbally answering, the oldest Peter fired a web out of his wrist. The shock of it racing past Maribel scared her into dropping her water cup.

"HEY!" She cried.

"Sorry MJ…" The oldest Peter made a face, quickly bringing his hands behind his back.

"That came out of you!?" Ned's mouth dropped open, as well as everyone else's.

"Yeah. You can't do that, huh?"

"No," went both Peter's collectively.

"Peter!" Maribel exclaimed, earning all three doppelgangers' 'what?' in return. She groaned. "I'm not doing this. Peter 1!" She pointed at the youngest Peter then moved her finger towards the eldest doppelganger. "Peter 2!" Her finger then moved to the last Peter. "And Peter 3! There! Got it?"

"Wait, why is he Peter 1?" asked the eldest doppelganger.

"Because he's the Peter of this world. You're the oldest, so you're 2 and then that just leaves number 3 for you," Maribel said, smiling awkwardly at Peter 3.

Out of everything that was wrong with the world, Peter 3 thought this was by far the lowest on his problem scale. "Fine, whatever," he shrugged.

Maribel silently sighed to herself. He had yet to direct a word to her since their conversation. She thought this would be a source of an argument. "Anyways, I was just going to ask for a refill on my water." She brought the group's attention to the water on the floor in front of her, her water cup on the side.

"Sorry…" Peter 2 felt the need to say again.

Maribel afforded him a small smile. "I'll survive."

"Anyway," Peter 1 said sharply, "we're getting sidetracked. Look, this is where we're gonna do this, okay? It's isolated, so no one should get hurt. We draw them there with the box, it's the one thing they all want. All we have to do is figure out how we're gonna get there."

"I can literally teleport," Maribel said with a hand raised in the air.

"Nu-uh," Peter 1 shook his head.

"What?"

"You're connected to the multiverse and you're feeling every crack in it. You're getting weaker," Peter 1 said, side glancing at MJ and Ned. They nodded, encouraging him to keep going. "You're not going to use your powers. I don't want you getting hurt."

"What?" Maribel frowned.

"He's right," MJ said, "You should stay out of it with us."

Maribel rolled her eyes. "Then how else do you propose we get there?"

"Oh, we can portal there!" Ned said suddenly, having thought about it at that moment.

"No! You barely know how to use that!"

"Wait, what?" Peter 1 looked between Maribel and Ned.

"I'm magic now," Ned said excitedly.

"No, he's not," Maribel said at the same time MJ agreed with Ned.

"Yeah, no, no. He's right. He can!"

"No—"

"Yeah, we saw him," Peter 2 nodded.

"Yeah. He is," Peter 3 also chimed in.

Maribel groaned. "That's not magic — that was dumb luck! And you two—" she pointed at Peter 1 and Ned, "—better hope Dr. Strange doesn't portal you to frikin Antarctica!"

Peter 1 understood nothing except that his best friend suddenly had magic powers.

"I can do it," Ned insisted, turning to Leter 1, "And I promise you...I won't turn into a supervillain and try to kill you."

Peter 3 reached over to pat Ned on the back, nodding in approval.

Peter 1 was so utterly lost. "O-kay...thank... you? Um...alright. Here goes nothing. What's that thing you always say?" He glanced at MJ. "If you expect disappointment…"

"No, no, no…" MJ shook her head, "We gotta kick some ass."

"Cure. Cure some ass," Peter 2 corrected.

Ned grinned. "Cure that ass!"

"This is insane!" Maribel huffed as the decision to keep her out of the fight was finalized.

#ocfairygodmother #fd: mcu #mcu #marvel #avengers #spiderman #peter parker fics #peter parker imagines #tom holland!spiderman #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #tobey maguire!spiderman #spiderman fics #spiderman imagines #oc: maribel jenavid

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lxvrgirl · 2 years

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you can find all my recs that im reblogging under “m’s recs” now.

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wonderswritings · 1 year

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When Worlds Collide 2: Missing Pieces

Warnings: No Way Home Spoilers, Multiverse of Madness Spoilers, Angst, Lost Memories, Unrequited Feelings, Strange Throwing Up, Panic Attack

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader (nicknamed Mel read book 1 to find out why)

Last post of the year! Hopefully with the start of the new year I'll be able to stick to my writing schedule and update more.

AO3

When Worlds Collide Masterlist

Strange looked between Wanda and America, casting a glance at where Wong laid, making his decision. He jumped up, running towards America, grabbing her as Wanda shot a blast at him, hitting him in the shoulder as they fell through the portal. They fell through different universes before they stopped, landing on a roof. Strange took a deep breath, looking over at America.

“You okay?”

“You saved me.”

“I hope so.”

They stood up, looking around.

“Surprised you didn’t throw up.”

Strange looked back at America, huffing.

“It’s not my first weird trip, kid. So this is New York in the multi-”

Strange covered his mouth as he turned, throwing up. America winced, nodding as she looked away.

“Yep. There it is.”

Strange coughed as he stood, wiping his mouth, huffing as the cloak tried to help.

“Cut it out.”

He pulled the cloak off, holding it up in front of him, eyeing the burnt spot from Wanda’s powers.

“Yeah, you got pretty dinged up.”

He put the cloak back on, nodding slightly.

“We’ll get you fixed.”

He turned, walking back towards America.

“All right, America. You gotta open a portal and get us back there, right now.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You just did it.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Wong is back there alone with Wanda, and I’m the only hope he has.”

“I can’t control my powers.”

“You must be able to control it somehow. Even I could-”

America’s eyes widened as she took a step back, Strange sighing as he shook his head.

“Sorry. Well, what about this universe’s version of you? Maybe she could control her powers.”

“This universe doesn’t have a ‘me’.”

“What?”

“None of them do.”

“But how do you know that?”

“Cause I’ve looked. And cause I never dream.”

Strange sighed, offering America a small smile.

“That’s okay, kid.”

He turned, walking towards the ledge of the building.

“And even if you could get me back there, I have no way of fighting Wanda. Not without Stark.”

Strange turned back towards America, slightly tilting his head to the side.

“What about her? Where did you send her?”

America shook her head, making a face.

“I didn’t send her anywhere.”

“You had to’ve. She was there one minute and gone the next.”

“Not because of me.”

“So she’s somewhere out there, injured and we have no idea where she is.”

He turned, muttering as he shook his head.

“Great.”

“What about the book of Vishanti?”

Strange turned back towards America, his hands on his hips.

“What about it?”

“Other you thought it could stop whoever was after me.”

“Yeah, well, good for other me. He’s not here, is he? I don’t know where it is, so unless there’s another other me-”

“We need to go find-”

“Other other me.”

Strange’s eyes widened, gasping softly.

“We need to find Stark.”

America nodded, slightly tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah, but we can’t do that from here.”

Strange huffed, shaking his head.

“No, we need to find the Stark of this universe.”

America made a face, wincing.

“That might be hard to do.”

“Why? She’s a Stark. They’re literally known for their flare of dramatics. It wouldn’t be that hard to find her.”

“Except she doesn’t exist.”

Strange made a face, shaking his head.

“What?”

“YN Stark does not exist in this universe or any other. She only exists in your universe.”

“But- Wanda showed YN the other hers. You were there. You saw it.”

America shook her head, sighing.

“Whatever Wanda showed YN, it wasn’t real.”

“She was using the Darkhold, kid.”

“She was showing what she wanted to get YN on her side. But it didn’t work. And I’m telling you, YN doesn’t exist here.”

Strange took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“Then let’s go find other, other me. He’ll be able to help us and if there is another YN here, he’ll know.”

Peter was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, looking over at the living room. You were sitting on the couch, just staring ahead. Peter wanted to know what you were thinking about, but he didn’t- wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. His mind was still reeling on the fact that you didn’t have any idea who you were.

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

He knew there’d be a possibility that you wouldn’t remember who he was due to the spell, but to not know who you were was something he didn’t account for, let alone you showing up in his world. Even though you’d said you’d find him, a part of him couldn’t hold onto the hope that you would, especially after meeting two alternates of himself. If there were two other spidermen, how many more could there possibly be? Would you even be able to find him on the first try? But here you were, sitting on his couch, staring off into space. Peter felt like your appearance here in his world had something to do with your memory loss, but he couldn’t be sure if that was the cause or not. On your earth you were a hero, and what few stories he’d heard from you and Peter One, you had a plethora of enemies. Who’s to say that one of your enemies didn’t send you here? If you weren’t here of your own volition, would whoever sent you come looking for you? How was he supposed to protect his world, protect you if he didn’t even know what danger you could be in? He didn’t even know how to help you get your memories back, let alone back to your world.

“Peter?”

Peter shook his head, his eyes wide as he looked over at you, clearing his throat.

“Yeah?”

“Some- something’s wrong.”

Peter’s heart broke at the crack in your voice, causing him to rush to your side, tripping over his feet in his rush. He knelt next to you, looking you over.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Tears welled in your eyes, your hands shaking.

“YN? What is it?”

“I- it burns.”

You looked up at Peter, Peter’s eyes widening when he saw your eyes, glowing a dark purple.

“Peter please, make it stop. It burns. Please.”

Your breathing started to grow heavier, tears welling in your eyes as you started to scratch at your arms. Peter went to stop you when he caught a glimpse of your arm when your scratching caused the sleeve to lift. He was careful as he reached out, grabbing your arms. He held one in his hand, the other gently pushing the sleeve of your shirt up, his eyes widening. Your veins were glowing purple, matching the intensity of your eyes. Peter looked up when he heard your breathing change, slightly shaking his head. Without thinking he reached up, pulling you down into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. Your skin was hot to the touch, almost to the point where it burned Peter, but he ignored it, choosing to focus on you instead.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Pe- Peter I- I can’t. Please.”

Your breathing started to grow erratic, tears streaming down your face.

“Just copy my breathing, okay?”

He grabbed your hand, placing it on his chest, wincing slightly when your hand lit purple, a shocking pulse jolting through him at the contact.

“You feel that?”

You nodded slightly, sniffling.

“Just focus on me, okay?”

He gently squeezed your hand on his chest, nodding.

“Copy my breathing.”

He took a few deep breaths, smiling slightly when you slowly copied him.

“That’s it. Good girl. Just keep copying me, okay? Focus on me.”

You both stayed like that for some time, Peter keeping you wrapped in his arms. Your sobs eventually quieted into little sniffles, your breathing growing calm. A glance down at your forearm showed the purple veins were gone, and he figured your eyes were no longer glowing, but he couldn’t be sure until you’d move, and he had no intentions of moving either of you right now. Peter glanced down at you when your head hit his chest, smiling softly when he heard your soft snores. Adjusting you in his arms, he was careful as he stood, cradling you to him as he walked through his apartment and to his room. He carefully laid you down on his bed, pulling the blanket over you. After making sure you were situated, he cut the fan on as he grabbed a hoodie, throwing it on. You’d said it’d burned, and while it may have passed since your glowing veins disappeared, he didn’t want to risk you growing too hot again. He sat down at his desk, turning the chair towards you, leaning back and watching you. He wanted to be close by in case something happened, the way you had spiraled into a panic attack worrying him. The pain in your voice when you said it burned would haunt him. It was as if your powers were attacking you, and it made Peter wonder, would it happen again? And if it did, would it keep happening? Would it continue until you went back to your world? The last hour only caused him to have more questions than before, and he was no closer to having any answers.

Strange glared at the group sitting above him, clenching his jaw. He didn’t have time for this, nor the patience.

“Are we done? There are more important things at hand here, like the Scarlet Witch, who will be coming here to kill the kid, and whoever tries to stop her.”

“The Illuminati will handle her, should the need arise.” Strange scoffed, shaking his head.

“No offense, but you are all out of your depth here. You have no idea of the power she possesses.”

Strange cocked his head to the side, huffing.

“And I need to find my friend.”

“We are aware of the Amaranth Witch.”

Strange made a face, watching as a floating chair appeared behind the others, moving into the empty space.

“Stephen, this is Charles Xavier.”

Strange grinned slightly, nodding.

“Pleasure. Now who is Amaranth?”

“YN Stark.”

Strange’s eyes slightly widened, Charles offering him a small grin.

“Miss Stark has been on our radar for some time.”

Strange made a face, slightly shaking his head.

“Why? The kid said- she doesn’t exist here, or anywhere.”

“She doesn’t. However, she is as dangerous as the Scarlet Witch.”

Strange glared at Charles, huffing.

“You know where she is.”

Strange shook his head, taking a step forward.

“I made a promise to keep her safe.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t’ve involved her with all of this.”

Strange turned towards Mordo, glaring at him.

“She’s a Stark. She would’ve gotten involved with or without my help.”

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But now, because of you, the Amaranth Witch has been forged.”

Peter jolted too when he felt like he was being watched, his heart beating erratically as he sat up, jumping when he saw you standing in front of him, your head tilted to the side.

“Mel?” Peter’s eyes widened when he saw the faint glow in your eyes, tensing when you stepped forward.

“You’re hurt.”

You stepped closer to him, grabbing the hem of his hoodie and lifting it, pulling his shirt up too.

“Uh- wh-what are you doing?”

Your other hand came up, hovering over his chest. Peter looked down, slightly tilting his head to the side. Your hand was hovering over the same place he’d held it to earlier, the same place where he’d been shocked at the contact from your powers.

“You’re hurt.”

Peter shook his head, glancing up at you.

“No, I’m not. I’m fine, really.”

You shook your head, your hand that hovered over him sparking with your power. Peter felt a rush spread through his body when you touched him, feeling like a weight had been lifted. Peter released the breath he didn’t know he was holding as you stepped back, the glow in your eyes fading as you lowered your hands, his shirt and hoodie falling back down.

“I’m sorry.”

Peter made a face, shaking his head.

“You’re sorry? For what? You didn’t do anything.”

You looked up at him, unshed tears in your eyes.

“I- I hurt you.”

Peter jumped up, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you, holding his hands out towards you, his heart breaking when you took a step back, away from him.

“No, no, hey, you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see.”

Peter held his arms out as he turned, shooting you a cheeky grin once he was facing you again.

“See, perfectly fine.”

He did a small dance, more of a side to side wiggle than anything, causing you to lightly laugh, Peter grinned as he nodded.

“There we go.”

He stepped forward, breathing a small sigh of relief when you didn’t try to move away from him again.

“Now, how are you feeling? Feeling any better?”

You nodded, causing Peter to smile softly.

“Good, that’s good.”

Peter looked down at your hands when he saw you pulling at your fingers.

“Why don’t we go and get something to eat? I’d offer to make you something, but the only thing I have is expired mac n cheese.”

You laughed, causing Peter to grin.

“We can go get something to eat and then make a run to the store?”

You nodded, looking over at Peter.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

Peter nodded, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Good, good.”

Fun Fact: Amaranth is a type of flower, which coincides with the nickname Mel

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