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#no way home x reader
angelofthenight · 1 year
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Maguire!Peter: My (y/n) is ranked for top 10 on Pokémon Go.
Garfield!Peter: My (y/n) is top 8 in candy crush
Holland!Peter: My (y/n)’s top 5 on FBI’s most wanted list
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vvaspoppie · 10 months
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Peter: You really have really bad luck with dating. Y/N: I noticed that. Peter: All of your previous boyfriends were supervillains. Y/N: I noticed that too. Peter: Maybe you should run a background check next time. Y/N: Get off my couch and give me back my robe.
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bitchystxrk3000 · 8 months
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A/N-For those who don't remember which one is which, Tobey is Peter 2, Andrew is Peter 3, and Tom is Peter 1.
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Peter 2: Y/N, you'll be working with Peter 3 and Peter 1.
Y/N: Alright! My fantasy threesome!
Everyone else: *blank stares*
Y/N: ...Of people on a team.
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book-place · 1 year
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The Art of Remembering
Warnings: nwh spoilers, mention of character death, slight cursing, let me know if I missed any :)
Pairings: Stephen Strange x reader platonic, Peter Parker x reader platonic
*not my gif*
Summary: You were the only one that could cast the spell, but you refused to do so because you would lose your best friend
A/N: I started this a long time ago and only just added onto it- so it’s really bad writing for part of it
Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work
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“No, no. Absolutely not.” You immediately shook your head, denying what Stephen had just asked you as you clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side.
He sighed, “Believe me, Y/n, I don’t want to make you do it anymore than you want to do it-“
“Then don’t.” You begged, looking at your mentor with pleading eyes.
“N/n,” Peter interrupted, “We need to do it.”
You quickly shook your head again, refusing to admit to the fact that he was right. That there was no other option, you were backed into a corner with your hands tied.
“Please.” The brunette boy pleaded softly, looking at you with wide, puppy dog eyes that you never could refuse.
You and Peter Parker had met as little kids when Aunt May had brought him to the same playground that your parents brought you to almost everyday after school when you were both six.
The two of you immediately clicked and spent every afternoon together until your guardians saw how well the two of you got along and agreed to let you guys hang out at other times as well.
And now, eleven years later, the two of you grew up as close as siblings and became one another’s best friend. Attached at the hip, inseparable from anything and everything.
Except for this.
Around the time that Peter became Spiderman, you were approached by someone named Stephen Strange, telling you that he’d seen the future and you would one day become the greatest sorcerer the world had ever known.
At first you were hesitant, but then he showed you what you could do, and he slowly earned your trust.
He took you under his wing and trained you in the ways of the mystic arts, teaching you everything he knew so that you could one day fulfill your destiny.
It had been a lot for fifteen year old you at the time, to have so much expected of you, and Peter supported and helped you through the whole thing like you did with him and his double life.
Now, with both of you being seventeen years old, he had just lost May and now multiverses were real and there were multiple Peter Parker’s in yours.
Needless to say, it had been a rough day.
You and all of the Peter’s had just cured all of the villains that had come through the portals into your world, but the other multiverses were opening up with nothing to stop them. Except for you.
Stephen and Peter had apparently come up with a solution, and hesitantly approached you about it.
Dr. Strange had to make the whole world forget who Peter Parker was. Including you.
Peter’s logic was that nobody else would get hurt because of who he was if they couldn’t remember, but you couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of not being able to know who your own best friend was anymore.
Tears began to fill your eyes as you ripped your gaze away from Peter and over to Strange, “Please, Stephen. Don’t do this.”
His answer shocked you, “I’m not.” But before you could sigh in relief, he continued, “You are.” His eyes bore into yours with more pity than you had ever seen from anybody.
Your breath hitched and your heart dropped to your stomach. You stared at him unbelievingly, “You really think that I would make myself forget my own best friend?” You let out a humorless laugh.
“You have to.” Stephen insisted, “This is magic far beyond my control, you’re the one who is destined to be the greatest sorcerer of all time- you’re the one who’s going to be sorcerer supreme.”
“Going to be.” You repeated, “I’m not right now.”
He ignored you and continued as if you hadn’t even spoken, “Besides, I need to hold them off.” He gestured to the sky where figures were beginning to form in the sky.
“But-“
Stephen cut you off as he looked to the sky in alarm, “There’s nothing more I can do here, Y/n.” Then he looked into your eyes for a moment, “You know what you must do… Make the right choice.”
He rushed off, leaving you and Peter alone.
You scoffed, “This is insane, Pete.”
He nodded slightly, “I know.” He whispered, he was looking down, refusing to meet your eyes.
“I’m not going to let myself forget you,” You insisted, almost desperately, crossing your arms over your body.
“I know,” He sounded so defeated as he looked up at you with tears pooling in his vision.
“Then why even ask this of me?” You whispered.
“Because it’s what has to be done.” He stated gently, as if he had already come to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t remember him, and was okay with it.
You flinched back, as if you had been struck and looked at him with betrayal filled eyes, “You know damn well that I can’t do this.” Your hands clenched to fists at your sides and you spoke through gritted teeth.
“N/n,” He slowly took a step towards you before putting his hands on your shoulders, “It’s okay.”
With that, you threw your arms around your best friend's neck and brought him into a tight hug. He hugged you back with the same urgency that you gave him, burying his face into your shoulder as he felt your body rake with sobs.
“Please don’t go,” You begged, voice coming out muffled through his fabric, “Please don’t leave me.”
“I will find you,” He promised, tightening his grip on you even more, “I’ll make you remember me.”
You pulled back with a small, threatening glare, “You better, or I swear to god, Parker, I will kill you myself.”
He let out a watery chuckle, squeezing your shoulder one last time, “I know you will.”
After one more longing look, you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from Peter Parker- the boy no one would remember- and began chanting the spell that would change the course of your life.
Peter watched you from afar with sad eyes, fighting with every bone in his body not to sprint over there and beg you to stop, because he knew this was the last time you would ever see him.
He ruined your life once, he wasn’t going to do it again. You deserved to focus on the mystic arts without having to worry about him or be pulled into any of his missions because he couldn’t handle it on his own.
He was going to let you go.
When the spell was complete, and you no longer stood before him, he finally let the tears flow from his eyes freely as he sunk to the ground with a gut wrenching sob.
We Are Groot 🤎- @lovanitu @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @irethepotato @femalemarvelself @mukbee @its-hell @ip747 @i-writes-things @popfishjr @mitsuki-murakami @mythixmagic
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givemea-dam-break · 2 years
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A Familiar Feeling
pairing: peter parker (th) x (gender neutral) reader
warnings: major No Way Home spoilers!!!!
words: 820
a/n: so basically i've been in my feels about no way home for the past 5/6 months and have been desperate to write a sad fic based on it, but i wanted to give it plenty of time to settle before doing so so that it's less likely to be a spoiler for people. i hope you enjoy! :) p.s. it didn't even end up being sad i can't believe that i'm evolving
It's snowing outside today.
The Moondance Diner is cool, but not so much so that you're shivering, and the mug of hot chocolate MJ made for you warms your hands through the knitted gloves you insisted you'd keep on. There's something else, though, something that seems to heat you to the bone. Something you're forgetting.
"This is so good," Ned murmurs, staring at his mug of hot chocolate as if it's a gift from some otherworldly being. "MJ, you're getting better at making these."
MJ's lips quirk up slightly, barely enough to be classed as a smile. "I'd hope so, I've been working here for a good few months."
There's a tug in your chest, a feeling trying to remind you of something, but you suppose it's just a feeling of deja vu. You've been having a lot of those lately. Taking another sip of the drink, you smile at both of your friends. "I think they've always been good, MJ."
"There we go." MJ gestures toward you. "Someone who appreciates my work. That'll be another drink on the house for you, my dear friend."
Ned makes an offended sound, but it only makes the three of you laugh. It feels good to just be sitting with them again. The past few months have been riddled with stress from going to college, and you've barely seen your two closest friends, but the December holidays have allowed you all to meet up again in your home town. It's the best you've felt since...
Since...
You frown, trying to remember the memory that just filled you with such warmth and happiness, but it refuses to surface.
Before you can think any further, the bell at the door jingles as it opens, and you look over to see who's entered, just as you always have done but, this time, you're struck with that same feeling of deja vu.
The boy who walks in is around the same age as you, sixteen or seventeen, with rosy cheeks and soft brown hair that curls under the edges of his dark beanie. He tucks something into his pocket quickly, eyes darting around as if he's not sure of where he is or how he got there. His eyes fell on you, a warm brown that was distinguishable from almost a dozen feet away, a colour that sent a shiver running down your spine.
As he walked up to the counter, you turned to Ned and murmured, "Have we met that boy before?"
Ned looked up from his phone, away from some new Star Wars post, to look at the newcomer, and squinted his gaze. "I - I don't think so. Maybe he's got a face that makes you think you know him."
"Maybe," you agreed, but you even believe yourself. Something about this boy... He stirred up strange feelings that you recognised but couldn't place.
After being served his drink, the boy took a deep breath and strode over, stopping just beside where you sat.
"Can I help you?" you asked, not unkindly.
"Hi, um," he pauses, "my name's Peter."
At his nervousness, a small smile rose on your lips. "Y/n," you replied. "Are you lost, or something? I can give you directions if you need."
"Uh, no, it's alright," he said, rocking on his heels slightly. "I just - uh - wanted to introduce myself, I guess."
You glance at MJ, who just shrugs, before looking back at this Peter. "Well, nice to meet you."
Something shifts in his face, something painful, but it's there barely a second before he's smiling, wide and bright. He grips his drink tightly, bobbing his head slightly.
"See you around."
"See you," you say, brows creasing slightly.
As he leaves, despite only just meeting him, there's a part of you that wanted him to stay, like some old, hidden part of your soul remembers part of his. He glances in the diner's window once he's outside, his eyes catching yours, and for a moment, just a moment, an image of his face, bloodied and bruised but perfect, appears in your mind.
"What's this?" MJ says, pointing down at the counter in front of you.
Looking down, you pick up the torn piece of paper. It's crinkled and breaking into almost perfectly straight lines as if it's been folded and unfolded far too many times, but the ink on it is still dark and legible.
Peter Parker, it says, followed by a series of numbers you can only assume is his phone number.
You can only smile, your face suddenly warm. Whatever it is about him, the familiar part that you can't discern, it tugs on something inside you, begging to be paid attention to.
With a grin, you type the number into your phone.
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myeagleexpert · 1 month
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Where would you go?
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And when it's all over… malleus' overblot… grim's overblot… could we finally go home?
Translated from fan to fan, see the artist's original work from the pin: https://br.pinterest.com/pin/902690319055568269/
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What's your theory about the way home?
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tojisun · 6 months
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ok but cute interactions need to be balanced with something embarrassing so imagine simon coming home to see you trying on his skull mask but you accidentally had put it on backwards and so he truly didn't expect to see the way you're desperately clawing at the material, failing to rip it off your head because the smooth fleece keeps slipping away from your acrylics, and he realizes that for all that they're pretty and long, your nails are essentially useless against his simple mask.
so he just stands there, blinking, not knowing what to do and how to react. he's hearing the little grunts you're emitting, your panic bleeding away to make room for frustration, and simon promises that he wants to help. he really does. but then you just stop moving before proceeding to fall backwards on your bed with a ragged snarl, and he can't help it - he bursted out laughing.
you freeze at hearing his voice, shame creeping up from the base of your throat up to the backs of your eyes.
"jesus crist, love," he'd say as he makes his way towards you. "you okay?"
he'd laugh at your silent treatment before cooing when he finally removes his mask from your face, seeing you haggard and pouting underneath, glaring up at him. he pushes your hair away from your face. then,
"so this is how you're actually supposed to wear it-"
"shut up!"
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spider-stark · 24 days
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INFINITELY YOU
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part two // crullers & constants
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion
WORD COUNT - 4.2k
// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite
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name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker
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Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place. 
Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange. 
Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown. 
Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter. 
Or, at least, none that mattered. 
But things changed as time passed, as they so often do. 
It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play. 
Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift. 
After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether. 
And Peter never even asked why. 
“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?” 
Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.” 
And how true that must have been. 
There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too. 
He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night? 
Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.” 
You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?! 
 “Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?” 
It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.” 
Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter. 
You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?  
“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.” 
“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.” 
The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter. 
Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.” 
Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used. 
“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar. 
Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite. 
“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.” 
Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now. 
You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?” 
Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.” 
Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too. 
“Did he?” 
Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.” 
You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's. 
In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him. 
“Well did he have anything useful?” 
He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter. 
Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups. 
“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0. 
“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration. 
“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear. 
Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?” 
Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation. 
“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.” 
Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite. 
“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?” 
“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.” 
You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?” 
Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch. 
“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?” 
By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him. 
Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.” 
“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.” 
Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.” 
“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth. 
Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.” 
“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?” 
“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?” 
You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.” 
“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.” 
Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now! 
“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?” 
“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-” 
“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!” 
He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.” 
“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief. 
“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded. 
If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere. 
You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now. 
“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down… 
Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.” 
Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell. 
“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered. 
He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night? 
“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.” 
He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips. 
Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world. 
But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all. 
The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone. 
Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting. 
Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway. 
“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!” 
He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!” 
You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else. 
“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?” 
You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?” 
Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.” 
His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse. 
“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully. 
“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter. 
There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!” 
You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.” 
Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?” 
In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task. 
Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway. 
“Mj happened.” 
Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?” 
“Yep. That’s the one.” 
“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.” 
It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.” 
In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease. 
“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth. 
You sucked in a breath. 
“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.” 
His brow snapped up. “What changed?” 
Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours. 
But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth. 
“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.” 
“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?” 
An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance. 
“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.” 
“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-” 
“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.” 
“I’m not pretending-” 
Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.” 
Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.” 
There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest. 
“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.” 
“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?” 
Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”
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series masterlist
a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.
as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!
part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th
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solarisfortuneia · 2 months
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— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.
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and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.
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✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)
✦ featuring: alhaitham.
✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.
✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)
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he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 
he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.
he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.
he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 
he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 
“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 
the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.
“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 
desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 
please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 
please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 
please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  
“— just wake up, beloved.” 
by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 
no. no. this can’t be happening.
he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.
“alhaitham—” 
his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  
“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 
those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.
i love you. 
he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.
until he can’t smell camphor anymore.
every person has their curiosities. 
they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.
for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.
after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?
alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 
number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 
he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.
and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 
you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.
you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.
‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”
alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.
and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 
“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 
“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”
“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”
those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 
but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.
alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 
“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,
i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!
oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,
wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”
you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.
loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.
but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 
a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 
he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 
a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.
 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.
“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.
 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 
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✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?
that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this
when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.
thanks for reading.
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hierba-picante · 19 days
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SPOILER WARNING FOR CHAPTER 15 aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Yes this is rushed---- no it's not cuz Iwannarereadchapter15beforebed--whotoldyouthat??--
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AGAIN--please read this amazing stupendous FANFIC I highly HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT!!!! @spadillelicious IS SUPER SUPER TALENTED GO TAKE A LOOK AT HER STUFF!!!!
ALSO!! please do tell me if the videos I post are ever loud- my pc has silly settings at the moment I apologize---
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diedoverahat · 5 months
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teasing mike with an ice cube. 18+ mdi
not proofread don’t yell at me
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mike has been tied to the bed post for almost ten minutes now, and blindfolded for nearly just as long.
he’s fully worked himself up by this point. chest heaving, cheeks ruddy, lips slick and red, boxers tented deliciously. he looks perfect.
not to mention the thin lines of wetness trailing all over his chest and stomach, leaving little red paths from the intense cold in their wake.
you can’t remember who started this, all you remember is trying to fix mike and you a couple of drinks shortly after he got back from dropping abby at vanessa’s place. innocently filling each glass with ice cubes when mike slid up behind you, kissing your neck and whispering filth in your ear.
you rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance to rile mike up. it worked of course, he’s a simple man, but just not in the way you wanted it too. mike grabbed an ice cube and dropped it down the back of your shirt, and a small wrestling match ensued leaving both of you on the floor making out.
one thing led to another and mike hauled you up in a rush to get to the bedroom, you didn’t even notice he grabbed the glass full of ice cubes off the counter.
now you’re here, minus some clothes, sitting on mikes thighs trailing ice cube after ice cube over his sensitive skin on display.
“ah! mhm shit…” mike whimpers out when you run the cold ice over his left nipple, hands clenching and unclenching where they’re bound to the bedpost.
you hum back nonchalantly, mouth too occupied to respond fully. your lips wrapped around a piece of ice that’s quickly melting, you circle his nipple a few times drawing out little keens from him as you do.
the ice fully melts, leaving your lips cold as you trail kisses all along his pecs. you travel all the way up his neck, sucking at the sensitive spot behind his ear. mikes breathy moans make your heart race and fireworks go off deep in your stomach.
you take advantage of mike being blindfolded to surprise him, stopping your assault on his neck to kiss him properly. he responds almost immediately, craning his head up to desperately kiss you back and moaning into your mouth enthusiastically.
you smile into the kiss before you can stop yourself, mikes responsiveness to your touch never fails to make you giddy.
you pull back, breaking the kiss much to mikes dismay. he lets out an all suffering groan, trying his best to rear up in chase of your lips.
you sit back, just watching him for a second. the biggest drawback of the blindfold is that you can’t see mikes eyes. they’ve always been your favorite feature of his, they’re so expressive. you can read whatever he’s thinking by just looking in his eyes.
you reel back before you feel yourself starting to get too sentimental, that’s not what mike needs right now. that’s not what either of you need right now.
“how’s it feel?” you ask softly, running your hands up and down his chest.
mike shivers under your light touch. “feels weird,” he breathes out quietly, “feels so fucking good though.”
“yeah?” you ask hotly, reaching out to pluck another piece of ice wasting no time before popping it in your mouth and shuffling down mikes body.
“ah!” mike exclaims as you start up on his chest again, circling his right nipple a few times before making your way over to his left to repeat the process.
only this time you dare to go lower, dragging the ice down the center of his chest to his stomach to trace shapes with the ice. a circle, a square, a heart, you even spell your name out. mike yelps, his abs tensing.
“shit! baby oh god,” he babbles incoherently, head trashing back and forth on the pillow.
you trail the ice all the way to the hem of his boxers, kissing along where the seam meets his skin while raking your hands up his legs.
mike keens, his legs fight to stay still. “fuck yes, don’t stop. please don’t stop.”
hearing his desperate pleas and whines spur you on enough to stop teasing him. you roughly yank his boxers down, his hard dick bobbing out to slap against his stomach. you moan at the sight of him, flushed red and wet at the tip.
sparks go off at the base of your spine. you need him in your mouth now. you crunch down on your ice enthusiastically, swallowing the bits and pieces left.
you know your tongue, lips, and mouth are still cold from how many ice cubes you’ve gone through. apparently, mike didn’t think of that, so the cold kiss you plant on the tip of his dick takes him by surprise.
“fuck! oh fuck fuck fuck-“ he breathes out roughly as you run your cold tongue all over the length of him, kissing and suckling as you go.
you kiss your way up to the tip of his dick, gripping the base in your hand and wrapping your lips around the head.
“s’good baby, feels so good.” mike slurs quietly. you squeeze his thigh with your other hand, starting to bob your head in a steady rhythm.
you pull off, letting the spit that gathered in your mouth drip down the length of mikes dick before you continue bobbing your head. the lewd sound of slurping that fills the room makes your ears burn in the best way possible. the familiar weight and taste of him on your tongue leaves your pussy aching.
mike’s a incoherent mess at this point, reduced down to making needy sounds and tugging at his restraints in vain.
you plunge lower, down to the base of his cock and swallow around him. mike yelps.
“shit baby i’m gonna-fuck-i’m gonna fucking come.” he’s unable to stop the praises that flow out of his mouth. his legs are kicking out erratically, but you’ll give him a pass just this once.
you pull all the way off mike’s dick, using your hand to stroke him quickly. “do it mike. come for me,“ you purr hoarsely. “be good and come for me.” your lips brushing against the tip of mikes weeping dick has his orgasm hitting him like a train and spurting his come into your parted lips.
“fuck!” he shouts, voice raspy and loud. you bob your head down again to swallow his release, tearing an overwhelmed keen from mike’s chest. he’s rocking his hips mindlessly up into your mouth to ride out his orgasm.
you can tell that he’s extremely sensitive, but that doesn’t stop you. “oh shit–” mike gasps as you continue to suckle at his sensitive spent dick, coaxing out tiny drops of come.
“s’to much, i can’t!” he cries, hips pressing into the mattress trying to squirm away from the pleasure turned overstimulation. you take pity on him, and pull off after one long suck, pressing one last kiss to the head.
you slide up the length of mike’s body, pulling a blanket up with you to cover you both. his chest is heaving and he’s covered in sweat. “i’m gonna take the blindfold off.” you say softly, reaching up to gently remove the blindfold. he only grunts in response.
mike has his eyes closed when you take it off him, still coming down from his orgasm. then you undo the tie you used as a makeshift rope to free his wrists from the bedpost. tossing both items aside you finally lay down and cuddle up next to mike.
he turns his head to you, eyes open and looking into yours. “hi.” you say with a soft smile.
mike laughs weakly, strong arms circling your waist to pull you closer. “that was… holy shit.” mike says reverently. you laugh, tangling your legs with his under the blanket. “you’re welcome.”
mike doesn’t respond, instead leaning in to kiss you. the two of you slowly make out, hands roaming each others body’s contently. you pull back just enough to rest your forehead against his.
“you want that drink now?”
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taglist!
@yuenity @ebodebo @mfdxz
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angelofthenight · 4 months
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You: I'm sure you can make friends if you tried, Stephen!
Stephen: Easy for you to say. Everyone loves you
You: What? You're exaggerating-
Maguire!Peter: Hello, (y/n)! Lovely morning we're having *kisses hand*
Garfield!Peter: (y/n), you're radiant as always ;D
Holland!Peter: It's great to see you, (y/n)! Want to join me later for coffee?
Stephen: ...
You: Yeah OK maybe everybody does love me
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Text
on my knees
Summary : Reader gives Peter head for the first time.
"fuck Peter" you whimpered as Peter kissed and sucked on your neck leaving many hickeys to deal with tomorrow but in the moment you dont care.  
This wasn't the first time that making out with Peter got so heated, this has become an everyday occurrence. Usually you two would try and study but you would always end up on his lap hungrily making out and grinding slowly on each other. 
That was the current situation. your grinding against Peters very apparent boner quietly moaning your hands tugging at his shirt silently asking him to take it off.  He got the hint and takes it off, the sight always makes you speechless even if you've seen him shirtless countless times the sight always turns you on. 
"quit staring Y/N" He says with a slight smirk your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink, you hadn't noticed you were staring "sorry" Peter gently grabs your face with one hand, other on your waist and kisses you, the kiss was sweet unlike the earlier kiss.
His kisses move to your neck he finds your spot easily making you moan. You grab at his hair and pull him closer, Peter groans when you grind down on him the pressure on his rock hard dick being so pleasurable he felt like he was about to cum right then and there.
Peters kisses made you feel like you were on fire every ounce of your body was burning up, you took off your shirt revealing your red bra that pushes your tits up perfectly. Peters eyes widen and cheeks redden "Fuck Y/n you are so beautiful" you gave him a smile and kiss him again sweetly as a thank you before it swiftly turned heated again.
Your hands wander all over his bare chest and down his abdomen Peters breath hitches when your hands reach the waistband of his grey sweatpants. You pull away from the kiss " is this okay?" Peter nods, you give him a nervous smile. You and Peter have never gone this far before and you wanted to be good. 
" y-you don't have to if you don't want to that's okay" Peter says while giving you a smile " I want to"  You said as you drop down on your knees in front of his bed and start pulling his pants and boxers down at the same time, Peter helps you by lifting his hips. 
You gasp when you see his dick he was big and thick leaking with pre cum, you are still nervous but exited at the same time, you have been wanting to do this for a while you even researched how to give good head in preparation. "Please do something baby" You look up to see Peter panting heavily, face redder than you have ever seen before but it only made you more exited and determined to make him feel good. 
You leaned down and grabbed his dick you then bent down and licked his tip tasting his pre cum. Looking up to see his reaction his head was thrown back mouth agape, he already looked fucked even if you barely touched him . without looking down you started sucking on his tip before slowly going further down Peter moaned loudly and looked down making eye contact. 
"shit y/n you're so good at that" His words spurred you on making you go faster you jerked off what you couldn't take in your mouth. You moan as you feel Peter thrust his hips further into your mouth making you slightly gag. Peter quickly takes himself out of you " I'm so sorry are you okay? did I hurt you?" He checks your face for any injuries you laugh" Peter its okay it was actually really hot you should do it again"
"o-okay" you give Peter a quick kiss before going back to his dick licking  from the base to the tip then spitting on it. You jerk him off a little pulling moans and whimpers from Peter you bent down and started bobbing your head on his dick drool slid down on his dick creating a wet slobbering sound. His hands went to your hair making a ponytail "fuck babe shit feels so good" Peters loud moans and groans motivating you to keep going despite the ache in your jaw.
Peter thrusts gently into your mouth, making sure he didn't hurt you. You could tell he was close to cuming when his dick twitched you quickened your movements moaning when his dick hit the back of your throat the vibrations from your moan pushed him to close the edge " I-im going to cum baby" his thrusts quickened and his grip on your hair tightened you made eye contact as he came down your throat with a loud moan. 
after swallowing his cum and recovering from his incredible high he looks at you with a shy smile  "t-that was amazing baby thank you" he says as he reaches for tissues on his nightstand you shot him a confused look his eyes widen with realization "wait did you um s-swallow?" you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out showing that you did indeed swallow every drop he gave you. 
"fuck" He pulls you up and kiss you hard groping your ass. the kiss got heated your tongues fighting for dominance. Peter moves you down on the bed " Your turn" he smirks
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hidden-snow · 2 months
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✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 Running Home to You 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦
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Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.
Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak
Word count // 1,694
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7
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You know the soul-shattering feeling of your heart physically breaking?
That’s what was happening at this very moment. Acid tears, so hot that you’re convinced that your face is melting off, slid down your cheeks in rivers and burned your eyes as they spilled out. Your ears are ringing so loud and high-pitched, you can’t really even hear his words.
You’re pretty sure you’re pleading for him to stay by the fact that your lips are moving. His face pinches slightly in guilt as he listens to your pleas, though you know, as he squeezes your hands, your words are falling upon deaf ears. You grip his hands tightly to keep him here, with you, just a little bit longer, trying to make this moment stretch out as much as you could make it.
All you know is that your heart is breaking rapidly, you’re a sobbing, sweating, shaking mess in front of your yawne, and there’s a rapidly growing lump in the back of your throat that you can’t seem to swallow down, no matter how hard you try.
He looks at you quietly, searching your face, before squeezing your hands once more, gently. He leans down, lips to your ears, and he whispers out a quick “I’m sorry” before pulling out of your grasp.
And then, he was gone, leaving you to pick up the shattered, splintered shards of your glass heart all alone.
»»——⍟——««
That was three years ago. Three years ago, you were left to learn how to live a life without Neteyam to light your path and your world. Three years to find a new center of gravity for your world to revolve around. And you did.
You threw yourself into your training, working hard to become the best hunter and warrior the Omaticaya had ever seen. It kept your mind busy and  your heart intact.
The clan expected you to move on from the unexpected incident that would forever leave you wondering what you could’ve done wrong, but you hadn’t.
Not yet.
Three years and the pain of his betrayal was still just as raw and bitter as the day he’d chosen to leave you behind. You used to dream of him, dream of the moments you’d had with him. Over time, they’d turned to nightmares of him never coming back, leaving you to grow old by yourself. After that, your nightmares worsened, showing your worst fears to you at night; Neteyam coming back different. Different appearance, different personality, different everything. Those ones always left you curled up in a fetal position, sobbing into your hands in the morning.
At first, men tried to sway your stone cold heart, convinced that they had a chance with you now that the olo’eyktan’s son and your best friend was gone. Eventually, though, the attempts slowed, trickling down to a dry riverbed of looks and whispers pointed your way.
You watched as people your age, the people who grew up alongside you, settled down and began to have families of their own. That life looked nice, peaceful and comfortable, but it wasn’t the life for you.
Your parents tried to talk to you, to find a suitable mate that could mend your heart in ways that only Neteyam could. There were times you’d lay awake at night, listening to their hushed whispers as they tried to figure out a way to help you move on from your tragic breakup.
It was a pity they didn’t have any other children to provide them the grandchildren they longed for.
And then, in a blaze of glory and fancy, excitement-filled celebrations, he was back. After three years, he was back.
Taller, with broad shoulders and a grin that could melt hearts, Neteyam looked different and familiar all at the same time. Tattoos covered one side of chest and his shoulder as well as some of his face. His hair was the same, thin small braids, but some of the braids were pulled back into a bun at the back of his skull.
The moment he’d seen you, he tried to approach and you’d fled, unable to face the one person who could destroy everything you’d built in his absence.
You’d found a place that was private, safe from the eyes as well as the ears of others, offering you the safety to shed the tears that had been burning at the corners of your eyes.
You couldn’t help the burning suspicion that the village had planned this, that they had known he was coming back and they’d purposefully hid this revelation from you. As if they were expecting you to be wooed off your feet if you’d been taken by surprise. Their own planned romantic story.
It was a turmoil of emotions to try and process and, in order to address your emotions, you did the one thing that usually helped you focus and calm down; hunting.
By the time you got back to the path leading towards the village, the sun had already set in the sky, night taking over the forest, bioluminescent flora and fauna lighting your path as you walked.
You couldn’t help but slow your steady pace, despite the heavy yerik resting over your shoulders, as you marveled at the beauty of your home. Neon blues, greens, purples, and pinks glowed all around you, surrounding you, and it further built up the peace that had settled in your mind.
“You look beautiful right now, Y/n. I’d forgotten how perfect you looked when you were at peace.”
At the sound of the masculine voice, you spin around, dropping the yerik in the process in order to swap it out for the blade that sat at your waist.
Your eyes meet gentle, adoring golden eyes, and a smile pulls at his perfect lips. Despite the smile, the raise of his non-existent eyebrow pulls at his face, making him look more questioning than anything.
“What do you want, Neteyam?” you ask, trying to force yourself to be civil. Just because he broke your heart into a million tiny places, trampling on it and spitting on it by leaving you, it didn’t mean your parents hadn’t raised you to be polite.
Even to assholes like him.
“Mawey yawne,” he hums softly, moving closer, and you instinctively step back, keeping the same amount of space between him and yourself. Your hand continued to grip the handle of your knife tightly, prepared to stab and run if you needed to.
A perplexed expression crosses his face and, for just a split second, his smile dropped into a curious look.
“I am not your yawne. You lost that nickname when you left me,” you spat back at him and he let out a long sigh, deep and tired, as if he was dealing with a fussy, stubborn child, rather than a fellow adult.
You cross your arms, tapping your foot slightly. You have no patience for him. When, once before, you’d enjoy dancing around topics, swapping playful banter and loving nicknames, you just want to be left alone now.
“Alright. What would you prefer I call you, if not yawne?”
“Just address me as you have. My name is perfectly fine for the likes of you. Now, why do you harass me? It’s not like you cared much before.”
He turns his head away, looking towards the village, before meeting your eyes again.
“I didn’t see you at supper. I got worried, so I came to wait for your return.”
“How thoughtful,” you bit back, gathering up your yerik. When he moved to help, you slap his hands away and shove past him to continue up the trail towards home.
How ironic that he worried about your safety now, considering how little he cared before. It was almost as if Eywa had a twisted sense of humor, putting him in situations that mirrored the one before and guiding him to react in a different way. As if trying to make your dreams come back to life.
This time, though, you weren’t going to fall for the act. After all, it was just an act. Nothing more and nothing less. You hadn’t meant enough to him then. You certainly mean nothing to him now.
»»——⍟——««
He hadn’t meant to scare you off. Watching you disappear along the path with your game slung over your shoulders, his gaze traveled down your spine, towards your rounded ass that bounced with step in your elegant stride.
A lot had changed, he realized, with you. Three years had not only seen you out of your awkwardly adorable childhood and into the elegance of a fully blossomed woman, but also had seen the change of your personality.
Whereas before, you’d been sweet, bouncy, and optimistic, you now carried yourself with a calmness that spoke of just how proud you were of yourself. Nothing could throw you off, nor could it stop you from being so damn independent. Had it really changed you that much when he’d chosen to go with his family to the reef people?
Where had that sweet girl gone?
Poking his tongue out, he licked at his lips before following after you, keeping enough distance between you and himself that you wouldn’t realize he was following you. Try as he might, he could never forget you and, convinced that you would immediately allow him to sweep you off of your feet, he’d come back.
Was he obsessed with you?
Definitely.
Had he always been obsessed with you? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he had been.
There was never a day that he didn’t think about you, about the way you looked up at him with such large, adoring eyes. The way your voice seemed to float like the clouds, soft like a song just waiting to be sung.
Before, you were smaller, just hitting puberty, with a thin waist and small frame. Now, you were a full fledged woman, curves in all the right places, with thick black hair that tumbled down your back and over your shoulders in curly waves.
You were beautiful then and now. And he was never going to let you go again.
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talaok · 4 months
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Movie night
Summary: Peter's coming over for your weekly movie night, and you’ve decided you wanna confess your feelings for him, but as it turns out, he has similar plans
Warnings: Smut| unprotected p in v sex, praising, soft!Dom Peter
a/n: thanks to this request I might go back into my Peter Parker era honestly. Also, @wtvbabes (this is not the person that made the request)
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It was time for the weekly movie night with Peter, 
You had been doing it for so long that you didn't even remember how or when it started, it was now simply a part of your routine.
Every Friday night, at 6 o'clock you went to whatever house was free, ordered pizza, and watched a movie each of you had chosen.
It was routine, so you shouldn't have been nervous... except that this time, this time wasn't gonna be like the other times, this time you had made a promise to yourself that you were finally gonna come clean, that you were finally gonna confess your feelings.
You had been keeping it a secret for way too long, and you were tired... god, were you tired, it was exhausting pretending like you didn't want more, like you didn't wanna kiss him and hold his hand every time you were together, and perhaps it was the holiday spirit surrounding you, or perhaps it was the fact that Gemma, your other best friend, had given you a 30-minute talk about how you should just "stop being a little bitch and tell him already" after you had started your usual ramble about how perfect and great Peter was,
But you had made peace with yourself, if this was gonna ruin your entire friendship, if you were gonna lose him forever, then so be it, because at the end of the day, if you couldn't have him like you really wanted to, then there was no point in having him at all.
And just then, when you were repeating your script to the mirror for the thousandth time, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense anymore, he knocked at the door.
For some reason, a gasp fled your throat, but after the familiar "hey, it's me" from the other side of the door all you could do was take a deep breath and fix your dress.
It's all gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok
"hi" you smiled, opening the door
Your anxiety must have been all over your face because the way he frowned at you told you everything you needed to know.
"hi" he said, coming into the house as he inspected your face "is something wrong?" he asked "Please don't tell me your sister changed the password to her Netflix again"
You forced a smile to your lips "no, no everything is fine- let's just... sit down"
"ok..." he frowned, following you as you sat on the couch "did something happen, or-"
"no" you shut him down "I-I just wanted" You shook your head as you regretted your choice of words "no actually, I need to- uhm- to tell you something"
You watched his eyes widen slightly, but out of all the things he could have said, he chose the only one that made you even fucking more anxious.
"Really?" he smiled "That's funny 'cause I do too"
You swore you felt your heart stop beating.
What could he ever need to tell you?
"w-what?" 
Your voice didn't even sound like your own, it was just fear and stress finding a way to come out of your body.
"yeah" he nodded, watching you closely "so... you wanna go first or..."
"no, no, you go first" you spit out, making him chuckle
He still didn't get why you were acting so weird, but to be perfectly transparent, he was kind of freaking out internally himself, so he didn't really have the brain capacity to investigate further.
"Alright" he laughed "I'll go first"
His eyes focused behind you for a moment as he prepared for whatever was coming, and just then, did you notice that perhaps you weren't the only nervous one.
What is it?
Did something happen
Oh god, did he find a girlfriend?
Your heart was beating out of your chest and then just like that, he came out and said: "Y/n I like you" with a hopeful smile on his face, while yours completely stilled.
Actually not just your face, you as a whole went completely still, frozen at the words that had just come out of his mouth
Did I just imagine that?
Am I dreaming or something?
What the actual fuck is going on?
That was supposed to be my lin-
"y/n are you there?"
He was talking to you, you realized.
"w-w-what?" your eyes were wide open in shock 
"I know" he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "I know it's out of the blue, and I really really hope this won't ruin anything, but... I've been feeling like this for a long time about you, and I just- I needed to tell you"
And then you could do nothing, absolutely nothing but throw your arms around him, hugging him so tight he probably couldn't breathe.
"y/n?" he murmured, hugging you back, but before he could say anything else you leaned away, still holding onto him as if he were a life jacket, and smiled like an idiot.
"I like you too Peter-" you grinned "I really really like you"
The smile on his face now matched yours, as his eyes sparked with joy
"you do?"
"of course I do!" you almost yelled from the excitement "that's-that's what I wanted to tell you! I can't believe this"
You looked into each other's eyes, both incredulous and unbelievably happy altogether, 
you were so close, but an inch between your faces, that what happened next was inevitable.
His lips were on yours, 
his lips were on yours and they felt every bit as good as you had spent hours and hours imagining.
And then for a moment, you both leaned away, looking at each other as soft silly laughs fled your throats.
"i can't believe this is real" he breathed, melting your heart right into a puddle
"I can't either"
And then his lips were back on yours, but this time... this time he was hungrier.
His tongue was exploring your mouth, and his hands were one holding your face, while the other started roaming your body, pulling soft whimpers from you as your arms remained locked behind his neck, your left hand gently playing with his hair,
And then in no time, without a clue of how or when, you were lying on the couch, and he was on top of you, his legs parting your thighs.
And you didn't need to know when it had happened, because all you knew was that you liked it, god you really fucking liked it.
His whole broad and strong body was engulfing yours, his scent was all around you, his hands were everywhere, and his mouth... his mouth was simply heavenly.
As embarrassing as it was, you couldn't control your body as you started grinding down onto his leg to try and relieve some of the need pooling between your legs.
"please" you pleaded, whimpering softly into the kiss.
"I like it when you beg, sweetheart"
And if you wanted him before, you now needed him
His lips moved to your neck, starting a slow trail from just below your ear, down until he found your shirt as an obstacle.
You didn't need to be told twice and helped him take it off of you in a second.
Your bra wasn't far behind.
"god, you're so beautiful" he praised, making you blush 
he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one, making you lose your goddamn mind as you shut your eyes in ecstasy.
"oh my god" you moaned, one of your hands going to his hair as he switched up the breast he was taking care of.
Your panties were completely drenched
He continued his work as his hands traveled underneath your skirt, caressing your thighs in a way that was turning you into a putty mess in his hands.
His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and with the help of you raising your hips, only the sheer fabric of your panties divided him from where you begged for his attention
"Peter" you called, stopping him as he had seated himself in between your legs
"yes, sweetheart?"
"I-I've only ever done this once"
His features softened and one of his hands traveled to your face to cup your cheek as he left a soft kiss on your lips
"don't worry, I'll go slow," he promised "I'll take care of everything, you just relax, ok?"
"ok" You nodded softly "I trust you"
He smiled at that, kissing you again "Thank you"
And no more than a few seconds after that, you were completely bare before him.
"you're perfect sweetheart" he murmured "fucking perfect"
He left a kiss on your pussy, making you moan, before his lips were on you again, and you were more desperate than you had ever been.
Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to get it off of him.
"Peter please take this off"
He didn't need to be told twice.
His shirt was on the floor with the rest of your clothes in no time, and then came his pants.
He went back to kissing you, the kiss now a heated mess between your moans and his hunger.
"baby please" you whined, your hand going to his boxers 
"what do you want sweetheart?"
"you, please, all of you"
Your voice was so thin and so breathy it was almost incomprehensible
"what about me?" he asked, his mouth next to your ear "You want my cock sweetheart, is that what you want?"
"yes" you moaned, as his hand played with your clit "I'm begging you, please, I need you inside of me"
He freed his cock from the confines of his briefs, as he kept kissing your neck
"you're gonna be good?" he asked, his tip now collecting all your juices and making you squirm uncontrollably "you're gonna be good and take all of it?"
"yes" you breathed "yesplease, yes-"
And without so much as a warning, he had started to push into you
"told you I like hearing you beg"
You moaned so loud you surprised even yourself, and then he retracted his hips and pushed another inch of himself in you, and you were just about ready to die.
"O-oh my god, P-peter" you moaned
He made the same motion again, and you couldn't help but look down at where your bodies were meeting, and that's when you noticed,
"fuck you're so big" you breathed, watching as he thrust only half of his dick inside of you
"it's ok" he purred, kissing your neck sloppily "Just be a good girl and take it" he ordered, pushing in again "Take it all inside this tight little pussy"
A high-peached moan fled your mouth again, as your pussy stretched around him,
"just like that," he said, his hot breath fanning over your skin "That's a good girl"
He was now fully inside you, by some miracle, he had made himself fit, and he felt absolutely perfect.
"fuck you feel so good" he groaned, picking up his pace "so tight" he grunted, feeling your walls squeeze him better than anything ever before "like you were made for me" his thrusts somehow felt deeper now, resulting in even more moans and cries coming out of your mouth
"O-oh god" you whimpered, feeling him hit and hit and hit again that perfect spot inside of you.
"You're taking me so well sweetheart"
The couch was now shaking with each of his movements, while your brain had stopped working and all you could do was cry out as he brought heaven to you.
"look at you" he murmured, kissing your mouth "So beautiful" he praised "so fucking pretty" he groaned, as your walls tightened around him "squeezing me so good" 
His thrusts were so fucking deep you could feel them in your belly, and your orgasm was inevitably approaching
"such a good girl"
A louder moan left your throat at that, and he definitely noticed
"you like it when I call you that?" he asked, smirking devilishly "You like hearing that you're my good girl?"
Again, another cry, followed by a frantic nod now.
Your ability to talk had been lost a while ago.
"It's just what you are" he purred in your ear now "You're my good girl y/n, only mine"
And that, that sent you definitively over the edge.
A series of cries and moans resembling his name came out of your mouth as the best orgasm of your life took over your body completely.
He waited for you to come down from your high before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your belly not a second later.
"fuck" he muttered, his head falling to the crook of your neck
You stayed there for a moment, waiting for your heartbeats and breathing to calm down,
And only then, only after you spent five minutes in the most comfortable silence, did he lean away to look at you.
"I love you, Peter"
You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, it was just the truth
And not a beat had passed, that he had already answered
"I love you, y/n"
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frost-queen · 4 months
Text
Starcrossed lovers (Reader x Peter Parker) NWH
Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn
Summary: You & Peter were in love till he lost you. Pulled through a portal he did not expected to meet you again on a different earth. When the battle against Green Goblin in upon them has Peter a chance to forgive himself but at what cost? [ part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 ]
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“I’ve got you, I’ve got you Y/n.” – Peter breathed out. Some electricity flickered dangerously above his head. You gasped loud looking up to him. Feet dangling in the air as his hand in yours was the only thing holding you in place. – “Peter…” – you said anxiously. The broken insides of the construction site clear. In the midst of the building you were hanging. Your life literally in Peter’s hand.
He himself hung stuck on a support bar made of metal with only his web. You gasped again hearing the construction site tremble. Feeling as if the place was coming down any second. You looked down at the gaping hole ready to swallow you whole. – “Don’t… don’t look down Y/n.” – Peter said with a clenched expression.
He felt his hand sweat underneath his suit, hoping it wouldn’t lose his grip on you. The construction site shook again, trembling and breathing as it disturbed the peace. Peter and you bounced a bit trying to stay steady. – “Peter!” – you called out wanting him to look at you. Peter was panting, holding onto you with every might. He looked down at you seeing the fear in your eyes. Yet there was also something else hiding in your eyes. Acceptance? Peter felt his hand slip in yours, making him groan loud. It made your feet dangle more knowing he couldn’t hold you any longer
You knew as good as anyone that Peter couldn’t save the both of you. It was him or you. It was an easy choice to make. The world needed spiderman, but the world didn’t need Y/n Y/l/n. It was an easy choice. You or him. You slowly closed your eyes, squeezing them gently shut as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Peter groaned again as he felt his grip falter on you. – “I’ll… I’ll figure something out Y/n.” – Peter said looking around to see how he was going to get out of here.
“I have to!” – Peter shouted at himself as you slowly opened your eyes once more. – “Peter I love you.” – you said making him look down at you. His eyes widened finally seeing the meaning in your eyes. You opened your hand, letting it lean back so his grip faltered.
Your hand slipped out of his as you descended into the abyss. – “No!” – Peter shouted releasing his web. You were falling. Peter diving after you, reaching his hand out to you. A web shot out aiming at you in the hopes of catching you. Your eyes were glossy from the held in tears. The wind catching you like hands trying to ease your fall. Peter’s web reached and attached itself to your stomach. He called it out trying to lift you up but the ground was reaching faster. Faster then he could’ve pulled you up. Your back smacked against the hard floor, bouncing off. It was fast. Quicker than falling asleep. Red crimes blood staining the hard floor. Peter landed beside you, picking you up carefully. For his pain could never be healed.
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“Just think of Peter!” – you called out slightly annoyed. – “Okay, okay.” – Ned replied jumpy as you were making him nervous. – “Just hold on.” – he added moving away from you. MJ sighed loud with a shake of her head. – “I need to concentrate for this.” – he told you. – “Then concentrate.” – you answered bitsy. MJ got up grabbing you by the shoulders. – “Give him some space.” – she said pulling you backwards away from Ned. You surrendered holding your hands up. – “I’ll won’t say a thing.” – you told her as MJ sat you down. – “Here have a cookie.” – she slid the tiny plate with cookies closer to you.
Cookies Ned’s grandma had made. You didn’t want to accept one as MJ took one and forced it into your hand. With one stern glance of her, she forced you to remain silent and eat it. Ned wiggled his shoulders to prepare himself like a boxer would before entering the ring. He moved his fingers in front of him, closing his eyes. – “Think of Peter Parker. Think of Peter Parker.” – he mumbled to himself. Slowly little orange flickers appeared in the midst of his grandma’s living room. MJ’s eyes widened as the orange sparks increased. Tumbling in a spiralling way as they grew wider.
Creating an opening. Your eyes widened as well making you drop your cookie out of shock. The portal opened more as you could look into an alleyway. A figure unclear. – “Peter! Hey Peter!” – Ned called out. The figure turned around pointing confused at himself. – “Peter come’ on!” – Ned urged not knowing how long he could open this portal. The figure approached jumping through the portal. – “It worked.” – MJ said looking at spiderman. The spiderman looked from Ned to MJ, then his eyes fell on you. It made him take off his mask, hoping his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
Ned and MJ gasped loud. – “Who are you?” – Ned asked loud. It drew spiderman’s attention away from you. – “I’m Peter.” – he said friendly. – “No, we are looking for Peter… Peter Parker.” – MJ stated looking suspiciously at him. – “My name is Peter Parker.” – his gaze going back to you. MJ furrowed her brows looking back at you confused. – “No, our Peter is spiderman.” – Ned addressed. – “I am spiderman.” – Peter replied looking briefly at Ned. MJ grabbed a bagel throwing at Peter.
Peter furrowed his brows, moving his hands away, gesturing why. – “I wanted to test your spider tingle.” – she told him. – “I have the spider tingle just not for bread.” – he told her. You snorted loud finding it very funny. Hearing you laugh made Peter’s face light up. – “We summoned the wrong Peter.” – Ned said out loud making you get up. You brushed past MJ and Ned coming over to Peter.
You started circling around Peter taking a close look at him. When you came to the front and your eyes met, you smiled sheepishly. – “Hi.” – you said softly. – “Hi…” – Peter replied with a saddened smile. You lifted his arm up, going underneath it as you examined his suit. Went around his back to the side, taking his other arm. You faced his palm up checking his spider webs.
You pressed on it accidently gluing your fingers to his device. You chuckled sheepishly. – “Sorry.” – you spoke. Peter smiled till his smile faltered having been brought back to a memory. He remembered when you had done the exact same thing once. He pulled the web of your fingers, freeing you. – “He seems real enough to me.” – you told MJ and Ned. Peter who had put his mask between his teeth, raised his arms in a way of telling MJ and Ned he was telling the truth. He pulled his mask out of his mouth with a smile. MJ still had her suspicion on him. – “Don’t mind MJ, she is a bit untrusting towards people.” – you told Peter.
“That’s okay.” – Peter answered almost saying your name. It almost blurted out so naturally he had missed saying it. Ned took a deep breath. – “Alright attempt number two.” – he prepared himself again for another go. Peter stepped aside joining your side. He watched Ned swirl his hand in a circle to open another portal. – “I’m Y/n.” – you told him making him look back at you. – “I know…” – he whispered saddened. You quirked up your eyebrow. Peter kept staring at you, unable to grasp that you were standing here beside him.
If he could, he would’ve grabbed you and kissed you like his life depended on it. It hurt, hurt being so vividly reminded of the loss of you in his world. It felt like a blessing that he got to speak to you again, yet it felt bittersweet knowing you were from somewhere else. A different earth. – “So uhm…” – Peter began half watching Ned’s attempts to open another portal. – “Peter… your Peter are you… his…” – Peter felt ridiculous and silly for even asking it.
He just wanted to know if his alternative Peter was yours. You picked up on it, laughing loud. – “Oh no, I’m just a friend. MJ is Peter’s girlfriend.” – you nudged with your head at MJ. – “Okay…” – he whispered out with a saddened smile. A new portal opened as a second person walked out, claiming to be Peter Parker as well. MJ sighed disappointed as Ned could only chuckle awkwardly.
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“Can the spiderman come out to play?” – all three Peter’s turned their head at the familiar voice. Green Goblin riding his hoverboard as he unleashed his green bombs. They were coming towards the building aiming for Dr. Strange. Doc Oc’s attached arms grabbed them out of the air, protecting Dr. Strange. They exploded in his metal grip. Stephen gasped when Green Goblin flew by, grabbing the cube from him.
Peter, the Peter from this earth turned his head in shock. Doc Oc flung a metallic arm at him, taking a hold of the hoverboard. Green Goblin was being held in place making him look surprised back. Strange flung a whip to Green Goblin taking back the cube. It hovered between his hands as he sighed relieved. Green Goblin turned snapping off one of Doc Oc’s arms. Doc Oc cursed in pain with frustration. The cube slowly turned in Stephan’s hand as all three Peter’s widened their eyes.
All seeing the green bomb ball inside the cube. – “Strange no!” – Peter one shouted holding his hand out. The bomb exploded releasing the magic inside it with blasts as two spheric rings blasted through the building. The entire building shook as it made you stumble out of balance, knocking into Ned. Ned, MJ and you were a few levels below, unaware of what was happening up there. The heavy shield destined for the statue of liberty released from it’s position.
With a heavy weight it scorched a way down the building. Breaking everything in it’s wake. The platform you were on shook immensely. Even shifted as you lost your balance. Making you stumble backwards as your arms flayed around for any balance. You tipped over the edge with a loud scream. Ned unable to grab you in time as he clutched onto a pipe, nearly falling down himself.
Your scream was hearable till the top. Making all three Peter’s look up with worry. Peter, Peter three was the first one to react. His scream deafened out as he leaped off the building. Not again. Why was he tormented like this again? Having to relive the moment he lost you. Your hands grabbing for any support. Peter dived down getting pulled back to the memory of where he had seen you fall before. The way you had shown acceptance in your eyes.
Yet your eyes were different. Full of fear. Only fear, no acceptance. He came at you with speed, determination on his mind. Not again. No more he would let you fall. He opened his arms, wrapping them tightly around you as the impact made you twirl in the air. Peter shot out a web as it stuck to a metal bar. His falling slowed down as he landed swiftly on his feet with you in his arms.
Shocked you were panting. Thinking you might have been done for it. Peter was panting too, looking quickly at you. – “Are… are you okay?” – he asked. You nodded vigorously, keeping your hands around his neck. – “Yeah… I’m okay.” – you breathed out shakily. Peter felt himself tear up. – “Are… are you okay?” – you asked seeing how emotional he had become. He nodded with a saddened face. – “I am now…” – he answered letting his forehead rest against yours. He set you down on the ground, holding you by your waist.
Knowing how shaky you still are from the fall. Peter sobbed loud, wrapping his arms tightly around you. – “I caught you. I caught you Y/n.” – he said making you hug him firmer. – “You did.” – you whispered to him, leaving a kiss against his cheek. Peter pulled himself a bit back from the hug, wiping some hair out of your face. He chuckled out a smile between his sobs seeing you alive in his arms.
You kissed Peter again on the cheek, feeling as if you had known him your entire life. Your kiss felt bittersweet as he knew he couldn’t keep you forever. You weren’t from his earth so he couldn’t bring you back. Peter tilted your head leaving a kiss on your forehead. – “Stay out of sight and save.” – he said giving you a slight nudge into a direction. – “I will.” – you told him, going into hiding.
Peter looked back at you, wishing he could keep you, but he couldn’t. His feelings for you had never died out. It hurt, yet it hurt good that he was able to love you a little longer. Hang onto you that little longer to be able to forgive himself. If he could he would take you with him. Knowing you were save on another earth pleased him. Yet he would do anything to try and find a way to be reunited with you again. Even if it meant dying in the process. He couldn’t live without you. You were his entire world.
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