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#peter parker you little shit

mad-tears · 2 years

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He didn’t want the girl’s attention, he just went straight to annoy Johnny.

The amazing spider-man (1963) #8

#this is not straight boy behavior i'm telling you #and he has the audacity to flirt with susan lmao #peter parker you little shit #spideytorch #peter parker #johnny storm #susan storm #spider-man #human torch #spiderman comics #melietpost

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samglyph · 3 months

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Ghost Hunter Au Part 1/2

This is my entry for the Malevolent “write in your style event”, @malevolent-monthly!

I wasn’t initially planning on participating since this is a writing event and not an illustration one, but the prompt immediately inspired me so I got the go ahead to make a little comic! Part two out soon.

ID in Alt text provided by @shadow0haven

If you like what I do and want to see more, consider donating to my ko-fi!

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent fanart #arthur lester #parker yang #peter yang #I’m gonna be honest. the problem with making a Parker centric project is that now if my wish is granted and Parker ever speaks in podcast #all of my shit will suddenly become less canon. I just want him to be a little guy in my brain #but anyway I had fun with this it was a good exercise #and I hope you all enjoy it too!#please consider tipping though I glanced at my procreate statistics and frankly I spent way too many hours on this #I told myself ‘oh it’s just going to be a quick low effort like 6 page thing’ and then 12 pages later…..

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idk-bruh-20 · 9 months

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Irondad fic ideas #148

You know those homework assignments where you have to interview someone in your family and then write an essay about their responses? Fic where Peter's class is told to interview their dad / a father figure in their life.

Peter decides to interview Tony. But, he doesn't want his class to accuse him of lying, and he definitely doesn't want Tony to know what the assignment is about.

So for Tony, Peter makes it seem like the assignment is just to interview anyone. Then, he carefully chooses questions to ask that are domestic and personal enough to avoid any mention of superheroes, celebrities, or so on. The few details that do slip through he just leaves out of his final essay.

For the class problem, Peter solves it by referring to Tony in the essay exclusively as "dad"

Unfortunately for Peter, the teacher then announces a part 2 to the assignment. Right after collecting the essays, the teacher says they will now need to bring the people they interviewed to school for their presentations

Peter has pretty much decided to not even mention it to Tony and just say his dad is busy. But then Flash has to open his big mouth.

He accuses Peter of just making his assignment up, loudly reminding the class that he's an orphan. Peter clarifies that this father figure thing is a new development, but now the teacher looks suspicious

Peter is going to have to ask Tony to come to his school. And he's going to have to explain why the class will be full of kids and their fathers

#irondad fic ideas #irondad and spiderson #imagine the assignment is because the class is reading a book with like toxic masculinity themes #so they have to interview the adult men in their lives about it #tony: yeah my own father never wanted me to show emotion and considered it weak. but emotions are important kid #I've been trying really hard not to pass any of that damage onto you #tony when peter reveals the purpose of the assignment: (crying) see kid. emotions #iron dad and spider son #peter parker #tony stark #in the interview tony talks about things like his ptsd and anxiety and his love for his family #peter's class when they realize the person talking about these things was freaking IRON MAN: :O !!!?!¡!!!#peter: my dad's career puts him under a lot of pressure. at home he can be himself but at work he often has to wear a mask :)#tony: u little shit #lmao #queueueueue

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sciderman · 6 months

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i just realised you drew Peter with bruised knuckles (it looks like bruised knuckles /pos) and I think that's so good because like, normally artists only draw superheros with injuries if they're just very life threatening injuries. I feel like you never really see just normal effects of what fighting for a living would do. Of course he's gonna have bloodied and bruised knuckles. But for months and months you're the first person I've seen draw him with such.

GOD you know i'm so surprised i don't see more art of peter with bruised knuckles. i think about bruised knuckle peter parker ALL the time. it's such sexy battle damage to have. the man thinks with his fists.

i love a peter parker who's always perpetually a little scraped and knicked everywhere,, i love his scrapes and bumps so much... grazed knuckles,, my love...

#i think one of my most favouritest things is drawing peter looking kind of small and unassuming and even a little femme #but you see the scraped up knuckles and bruises from absolutely kicking the Shit out of somebody the evening prior #underrated genre of peter parker art. he is small and baby but You Should See The Other Guy.#sci speaks

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lildoodlenoodle · 11 months

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Why I think Spider noir is on the younger side(18-20) in the new spiderverse movie per my previous post:

Let’s break it down by Context, Timeline, Mood, and ATSV

Context:

Spider noir has two comic runs that happen before COMICS spiderverse. With that said, there were like inter dimensional energy vampires and that’s obviously not the direction the spiderverse movies went with. So we’re going to largely disregard them for this. To expand, there was a big time jump between that last noir comic and the spiderverse ones. Peter would be closer to mid/late 20s at the start of the comics spiderverse and therefore ITSV if we were to integrate and replace the timelines, BUT I always hated the way they did that time jump in the comics and what it did to Peter’s character.

It felt like they were trying to tie him into 616 Peter wayyyy too much by making his love interest MJ(who we rlly haven’t seen and what we have seen hasn’t had good chemistry), have a good relationship with May(they rlly brushed him shooting someone in front of her and calling him an animal under the rug Huh), and going to college(I get it I do, but unlike most universes I don’t think this Peter could ever stop spiderman enough). There wasn't really any mention of Felicia, Urich, or Robby and their past. They also changed his webbing, his look, and his spider senses.

I felt like that was completely getting rid of all of Peter's characterization and he just becomes the spider with a gun from the 1930s. But the point is they clearly went in a very different artistic and narrative direction after the time jump to a point where it doesn’t feel like the same character.

Refitting the timeline:

So, scrapping the comics spiderverse timeline, I don’t really see a reason for a disjointed time jump. And after those first two comic runs it can be argued, for this Peter, that ITSV happens much sooner for him after that second run, possibly even after the first comic. Then ATSV would happen after that second run. There is an 8mo. time jump between the two runs so it is definitely feasible.

But let’s talk about mood between the runs.

We all know at least somewhat this Peter's origin, and if you don’t, to sum it up: organized crime, monsters, socialism, cannibalism.

The first run ends, Peter beats the goblin without killing him and he’s feeling pretty good about himself/confident. But he’s still got a lot of well deserved angst and self hatred. His uncle is dead, his new mentor/father figure is dead, his relationship with May is on the rocks to say the least, and there’s the whole Felicia thing. He’s still a high schooler and in that teen range, but a big ass lanky teenager who's only solid looking because of the gear he wears. I’d place him around 16-18, a case could be made for 15 but I’m going to politely disagree. ITSV could very easily be fairly soon after these events.

It’s 8 months after the first run. He becomes cocky and overconfident this whole next issue, possibly because of an interdimensionally inflated ego? Point is he feels on top of his game. Also worth mentioning, he’s ignoring MJ this whole issue to the point the audience knows basically nothing about her while he is having a very intense relationship with Felicia(which we already know how I feel about that whole mess) and who MJ is very blatantly and very badly a foil to.(I love MJ she is just not well written here).

The second run ends, his best friend/possible love interest(I said what I said), Robbie, is dead and unavenged.(I can talk a lot more about Robbie and what effect he had and will have on Peter going forward, also the disservice of his ‘death’) Felicia is disfigured and blames Peter. Peter not only blames himself for all this but the comic ends with him saying he feels powerless and a constant sense of impending doom. He really did not get a single win during this comic, man got the shit beaten out of him too. The age at the end of this comic is 17-19. After the last comic dude was messed up but still had hope, after this one we don’t see the fall out, but I can assure it was BAD. That whole ‘you don’t have to kill the bad guy thing’ is probably out the fucking window. I’m more hesitant to think ITSV happened after this run because of that. He isn’t just depressed or self loathing anymore, he isn’t just playing fast and loose with his life to get results. He does not care, he has no hope, and he doesn’t see a good future.

Pre - ATSV predictions with mild spoilers:

With the year and a couple of months time jump for ATSV it’s very plausible that the events of that last run plus possible spider task force shenanigans could happen before the movie. For more context in the comics spider noir was a recurring spider in the ‘elite strike force’. Personally, if he was invited, I could very much see him accepting, especially with his current mental state, and being very aggressive about it. Which, theoretically, could cause him to get kicked off or make a rash decision to leave bc fuck those guys. But the point is at the end of that last comic this man really doesn’t have a single win, he is in a prime state to be manipulated in.

Edit: my dumbass forgot literally the most important detail. The year 1933 is when ITSV noir comes from which matches this timeline with the comics as well.

To sum everything up, the reason why I think spider noirs age is in the 18/20 range is because it fits the above timeline, which I believe to be the most probable timeline of events that are canon by the movies while also staying consistent with at least some of the original comics. It should be further noted there is no evidence of his age throughout the ITSV movie, besides him being played by Nicholas Cage and being tall. In fact, I’d argue due to his excessive use of slang it would naturally place him in a younger category as well as the classic melodramaticness that can come with being a coping teenager. The most important thing that makes his age and at what point in his storyline he’s in up to interpretation is the fact that we see his face once and it’s heavily shadowed. If we saw his face more I’d feel better about giving him a more solid age, but till then context clues for the win. But anyways, this was long and I still have more I could get into/say and I will eventually. Feel free to ask any questions or even tell me why you disagree!

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youandtom2 · 11 months

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Little Birdie Part 2

Summary: You always thought you hated Tom more. But after a wild night that has now led into a confusing situationship you start to question who you should be hating more: your nightmare brother Andy, or his best friend Tom? w/c: 8.8k TW: just brothers being horrible A/N: Wow wow wow okay here it is. Please be kind as I am still easing myself back into this. And I know compared to the first one, it's barely anything, but writing 8k was actually a REAL struggle for me. There's probs mistakes and horrible writing but hey! i did it. And also DO NOT WORRY THERE WILL BE A PART 3. I DON'T INTEND TO LEAVE THIS STORY AS IS BUT I THOUGHT YOU GUYS SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE SOMETHING. okay okay okay all forgiven? Enjoy :)

LITTLE BIRDIE PART 1 // MASTERLIST

There was a book you once read years ago exploring the relationship between humans and dreaming, and it captivated your mind from the instant your fingers turned the first page. You were thrilled by its language, its storytelling, its theories and explanations to the point where you were absolutely obsessed by the enigma that is dreaming. The leading theory intertwined with its words was that dreaming was a human’s way of analysing their memories, learning from situations with hindsight and acting as a rehearsal for future challenges.

It was a book you rarely forgot and a book you rarely shut up about. You remembered the moment you finished it and the profound imprint it left on your mindset. Your hands didn’t want to let go of it. From then on, it prompted you to question every dream you ever had since then.

The dream you had last night certainly fulfilled that theory. Images of your own troubled memory involving your own troubled brother flashed before you. Aside from the unstable, hostile relationship, there was actually another reason why you tended to stay away from Andy. And for some reason, your mind decided to remind you just last night in the form of a dream.

Ten years ago, when you were eleven, you had just finished reading Matilda for the first time, one of the few books that occupied a home on your shelf as one of your all-time favourites. The storyline was almost an uncanny retelling of your life and because of that you immediately fell in love with it. You found so much of yourself in Matilda; a lonely girl with a love of books living with a family that didn’t quite understand her. Admittedly, your parents were much kinder to you than Harry and Zinnia Wormwood, but you couldn’t say the same about your brother. Andy resembled Matilda’s menacing brother, Michael Wormwood, in every way.

Prior to reading the book, you had had an awful week dealing with your brother who was in the early stages of his teenage years and you had yet to find a way of escaping his torment when your parents weren’t around. That was until you read Matilda, sitting on your front in a pillow fortress, swinging feet and unblinking eyes with the book perched so close to your face. One of your favourite moments was when Matilda had cleverly pieced together a very daring prank involving bleach hair dye, originally intended for her father but you took inspiration from it in any way you could and decided to replicate something similar for your brother. With the confidence given to you by Matilda, you found your mother’s bleach and concocted a mixture that was poured directly into your brother’s shampoo, cackling as you had finally gained a way to get back at your brother. At the time, you thought it was enough to keep him off your back, that with enough time he would realise the error in his mistakes for ever having mistreated you like Matilda’s brother Michael did.

It was the biggest regret of your life.

Things didn’t go your way. In the end, it was Andy that made sure you realised your mistake and a day later, you had suffered more than you ever had before.

Enraged, Andy had stormed into your room, hair blazing with a tinge of orange that originally had you in fits of giggles, but when you realised the true extent of his anger, you weren’t laughing for long. He had fought to grab you by your ankles and vigorously drag you from your bed whilst insults and slurs passed through his lips. You had kicked and squealed but your parents were out for dinner with business partners. You were left by yourself, left to suffer the carpet burns up the length of your spine as he pulled you out of your bedroom, to defend yourself when he had pulled you to the edge of the half flight of stairs and sent you tumbling down the steps. Being a carpeted staircase with fewer than 10 steps, you got away with what could’ve been worse but it didn’t mean that the injuries you sustained you didn’t ache from. So blinded by anger, unprecedented for a fourteen-year-old, Andy couldn’t explain to your parents how you ended up with a split head that needed stitches. He couldn’t explain how you had ended up with carpet burn blisters on your back. He couldn’t explain why he did what he did simply because your parents didn’t need an explanation. They knew what had prevailed.

It was a night you realised just how far Andy was willing to go to show how much he hated you and you vowed to never risk provoking him again. It was also a night Andy vowed to never risk hurting you again after the trouble he got himself when your parents arrived back home.

Well, at least not physically. Little birdie would already have scuttled away before it escalated to that point.

The dream had fizzled out into a dark void as the memory turned blank. As you arose from your slumber, you wondered why, of all nights, would your conscience decide to resurrect such a memory. Again, you reminded yourself that no one really knows exactly why people dream and what messages they carry, but if you were to guess; perhaps knowing what transpired last night between you and Tom, it was your deeper conscience telling you to consolidate an old opinion of yours; that Andy was the truer evil you should be hating more. Not Tom. Not after how Tom looked at you with a soft glazing of affection in his eyes just before you fell asleep, tenderly caressing the skin of your thigh with a grounding squeeze, the very feeling that made your heart jump with giddiness.

Longing stare, gentle touch, soft whispers.

Maybe it could be a feeling you could get used to. You were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt just to feel more of it.

The soft cotton of your black suite caressed your skin as you tossed and turned. The early morning sun streamed in through the small square window in the corner, illuminating the entirety of the shed. You had never slept on the couch before; it felt so out of routine. You were much more used to the bed upstairs hidden behind the blackout curtain, so you weren’t accustomed to waking in the bright morning light. It was somewhat uplifting. Albeit, the cramp in your neck was less so.

You basked in daylight’s glow for just a minute before acknowledging how bare you were sandwiched between a blanket and the couch. Despite it being a foreign feeling, it was hardly startling compared to the savagery your body endured last night. Your ass stung, your pelvis throbbed and your head pounded. But nothing hurt more than the tightness in your chest, a pressure so suffocating that your heart was almost murmuring to be free. The pain of solitude was a bitter one.

You, along with the black cinders of a dead flame, a raggedy towel and bottle of half-empty whisky lying by the side of the couch, and a broken promise were the result of what happened when Tom Holland got his way.

He didn’t stay.

You wanted him to stay and he knew that, but he didn’t stay.

Your pain tolerance had been worn down to its last thread and you wanted nothing more than to be cocooned in comfort and warmth. You sought recovery under the thin blanket, grasping it in fists and pulling it tightly over your shoulder as you turned on your side while a sigh deflated from your lips.

It was too good to be true. Tom was never going to change and now, neither will you. You should just keep hating him like you did before.

~~~~

Andy also seemed to be a no-show when you eventually entered through the back patio doors into the living room. Although the air was still and calm, there was still a feeling of unease crawling up your spine when you walked past the mess left behind by Andy’s friends. Without thought, your eyes subconsciously landed on the settee where Tom had placed himself last night before he came to you, where he had sat with fire in his eyes as you bravely threatened to expose his misdemeanours. You remembered feeling like you had achieved something, like you were the victor of a battle that seemed impossible to overcome. Little did you know it was a threat he was going to face head on, and suddenly last night’s…punishment instantly flashed in your mind.

Upon the thought, a sudden flash of realisation coloured your mind and your hand whipped to clamp over your neck. You almost forgot. The bruise on your neck. Shit, was it bad?

You shifted nervously in front of the sheen of the oven door, seeing not one but multiple red splotches staining the skin of your neck in its reflection. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How could you walk around here so brazenly with that on your neck? Trust Tom to be an issue even when he wasn’t here. Bastard.

“You got nerve comin’ back in here after your little stunt last night.” Andy’s groggy voice along with shuffling bare feet entered the kitchen. Fuck, you were hoping for a little reprieve to wash, change and lather your neck in makeup before Andy even had the chance to leave his bedroom. Between the dream you had last night and the bruise to your neck, Andy suddenly being here caused your heart to thump a little harder in your chest, but it was his tone that made your blood run cold.

He sounded…pissed. Well, that was nothing new. But aside from his usual abhorrence towards you, there was something about his expression that resounded a little deeper. Grumpier. His eyes also looked at you a little differently, like he knew something about you that he hadn’t before, something contemptible and there were no second guesses as to what it was. He can’t know. How could he know? Tom--he wouldn’t…would he?

Your hand stayed resting against your neck out of pure guilt while Andy roamed the kitchen, searching fridges, cupboards, drawers.

“What?”

He froze in his tread and turned to look at you expectantly with a deep scowl. “Uh, the whole Tom thing? How can you not remember what you did? Are you that fucking stupid?”

You swallowed thickly, quickly preparing words. “It…it wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know what he was going to do!”

“Well, what did you expect? You were pretty much asking for it!”

You took a hefty breath, body shaking with anger. “Fuck you, Andy. Just fuck you. Why can’t you just be on my side for once? That’s what brothers are supposed to do!”

Andy scoffed and turned back to the measly bowl of cereal he poured himself. “Well if you had just given me a slice of pizza like I asked then none of it would've happened! That’s what sisters are supposed to do, right? Do you know how pissed he was after you blackmailed him? He was blaming me for it, saying that I told you everything and how I betrayed him and how he can’t trust me anymore. I mean, how the fuck did you even know all of that?”

Oh. He’s talking about that.

Your hand remained casually resting against your neck, under the shield of your hair as a sigh blew past your lips. With quieter subdued words, you mumbled, “you guys aren’t exactly the quietest when you’re drunk and high.”

“Well mind your own business and put some headphones on next time!”

“Whatever.”

“Why are you holding your neck like that?”

“I slept on my couch last night. Got cramp in my neck.” Ready to leave with your secret still undisclosed, you turned to make your exit from the kitchen, heading towards the bathroom.

“Weirdo.”

The shower was a degree or three colder than you would usually have it. Something about the freezing cold water inflicted a feeling of clarity upon your skin, like a breath of fresh air, cleansing the stains of the debauchery of last night’s secret. Even as you stepped out, you exited with a new mentality and left the promiscuous past to drain away with the water. However, in its place frustration took over. Typical that whatever relief was to be had from the refreshing shower was only to last mere minutes, because now the heat of loathing had consumed you. Of course, your inner-consciousness blamed it on Tom, but there was a small minority that was self-loathing too for even letting it happen. You should’ve known better.

You stopped, frozen to the spot. The thing was…you did know better. You passed him off as a womaniser, the ‘selfish player’ who strives for nothing but his own satisfaction and only chases girls that share the same intent. You read him like one of your books, exposed everything you knew about him directly to his face and he confirmed it all without hesitation. So was there really anything surprising about what he did? No, of course not. You knew how sharp the blade was before you let yourself get cut by it.

So why were you still bothered by it?

The thought still followed you as you mindlessly dabbed concealer over your neck. You watched yourself in the mirror and for just a moment tried to avoid looking at yourself as just a reflection and rather how others would see you.

It was obvious you had never been adventurous with your appearance, your virgin locks hung around your usually make-up free face, adorning wise but inexperienced eyes. What you saw was what you got. Nothing you wore represented your family’s wealth; plain, basic clothing and lacking the expensive accessories that your brother might choose to wear, but it showed that you didn’t need money to be content and preferred a simple life. The more deductions you pointed out about yourself, the more you regretted ever reading Sherlock Holmes, because fuck, you were so readable. So transparent to the eye that you assumed it was why Andy knew how to push your buttons, that your parents knew exactly what books to get you for your birthday, and possibly how Tom was able to win one over on you.

The epiphany hit you hard and fast. Perhaps knowing Tom wasn’t the issue. After all, it certainly didn’t cause any vulnerability on his part. Perhaps the issue resided with never considering what others saw in you. Tom knew you would grow curious despite how adamant you were of opposing the idea. He knew that even though he was everything you hated about your brother and more, you would still fall into his trap. He knew how he made you feel when he was near, dissecting every sign until they were raw and unfiltered. He just knew. He even fucking told you!

“You’d be surprised at what I know about you.” Because you were so fucking readable.

Your head sunk deep into the caverns of your hands, quietly swearing an oath to yourself to stay away from Tom Holland until you figured out how not to be so transparent.

“Hey, dude. I’m sorry about last night. You up for comin’ round again tonight? I’ll get dinner and beers. My treat. Cool, dude. See you at about 7.”

As the words of an invitation echoed through the hall, you realised it was going to be much harder than you anticipated.

~~~~~

You spent most of the afternoon fretting over how you could avoid Tom’s inevitable return to the house. Your eyes gazed out of your bedroom window to see your shed exactly the way you left it. You couldn’t face going back there tonight. Tinted with Tom’s presence, it now served as a constant reminder of last night so it wasn’t exactly the best place to be if you wanted to avoid him. Being in the house was too risky which meant the only option you had left was to simply leave.

As 6:45pm ticked by, you tied your shoelaces, grabbed everything you needed and descended down the stairs, ready for your walk. You weren’t exactly sure where you were going to go, maybe you would find a Starbucks somewhere and read, but right now, your priority was to leave the house first and foremost.

“Where you goin’?” Andy had asked, his lips already sealing around a bottle of beer. You were surprised he even cared enough to ask.

“Out.”

“Good. Can finally give me some peace.”

Never mind. “Whatever.”

“Scuttle away, little birdie,” he chimed, seconds before you slammed the front door.

The pebbles clicked loudly underneath your feet as you marched your way down the private driveway. The sun had already begun to set beyond the horizon leaving behind orange remnants to colour the sky. Despite the day creeping into night, it was still warm and you praised yourself for leaving behind the jacket you considered wearing and indulged the feeling of having a warm breeze gloss over your arms. It was the first time you had seen outside of your house in a while and with that came the realisation that there was as much beauty in the real world than there was in your books. You should’ve done it sooner.

No, really. You should’ve. Because Tom’s Lamborghini was slowly rolling up your driveway towards your house. You checked your watch; 6:49pm. Fuck. He was early. Why was he early? Why couldn’t he have turned up when he was supposed to? Why must you have to go through this again?

Heartbeat accelerating, you looked back towards your front door calculating whether you had enough time to run back, but it had seemed you had walked too far and he had driven too quickly. There was no turning back. You had to face him head on.

Sweaty palms sunk deep into your pockets as you continued your stroll towards the gates, head down and ignorant of everything around you. Naively, you hoped for him to simply drive past you and pay you no mind, but of course, it was Tom Holland. Any opportunity to be a pain in your arse he was going to take it. You just wanted to be invisible, and despite the tinted windows and the pounding music coming from within, there was no way he wouldn’t see you and there was no way you were going to be able to avoid him.

You expected a slow stop, a rolled-down window and a witty comment to leave his mouth before making the rest of the journey towards your house. And in all honesty, you would’ve preferred it that way. In fact, you would’ve preferred anything over what actually happened.

The bubbling rumble of the engine stilled just a few yards ahead of you. The door opened and slammed shut again seconds later where a hearty silence followed. Quietly desperate to know what he was doing, you couldn’t resist the urge to lift your head to see him casually resting against the side of his car, waiting for your approach with his hands deep into pockets. Dark eyes latched themselves onto you as you neared and they instantly ignited a flame inside you, one that you hadn’t learned to tame yet.

In the split second you had before anything was said, you reflected back upon your earlier epiphany about how readable you were to him. Although you hadn’t found a solution to it as of yet, you decided to play into it, letting your brows sink into a scowl, writing the words ‘fuck off’ across your features with as much ambition as you had.

His head cocked to the side, purposely exposing the blemish you had regrettably left on him last night. You seethed at the sight. “Hey, little birdie. Where are you headed?”

Fuck him and his patronising, mocking tone. “Out.”

“At this time?”

“Maybe I would've liked it to have been at least thirty seconds earlier, or if you were ten minutes later. Either way.” You had intended it to be a clear insult to him, but yet you couldn’t fathom why he was chuckling with that stupid grin on his face. He took a step closer and folded his arms, his eyes examining you head to toe. Even in a different light, his eyes still contained the same lascivious quality as they honed in you. You really wanted to shiver but you also didn’t want him seeing what those eyes did to you, not when you were supposed to be pissed at him.

Longing stare…

Wordlessly and without warning, his hand reached out towards you allowing his fingertips to glaze over your jawline, purposely tilting your head to expose the part of your neck you doused in makeup. Your body burned at his touch, a violent act of betrayal of your own conscience as it pleaded with you to hate him rather than quietly yearn for him.

Gentle touch…

He watched the hidden bruise carefully, twitching under the bob of your throat from swallowing nervously and perhaps with a twinge of guilt for having concealed it. Why you felt guilt, you weren’t quite sure. It had been estranged from your emotions all day, and if anything, you felt empowered by concealing what he left behind. But under the scrutiny of his disapproving glare, you were far from the feeling.

The click of his tongue spiked in your ears. “Andy doesn’t know, does he?”

“No. But I guess that doesn’t matter, does it? I suppose you’re just going to go and tell him anyway-”

“He won’t believe me. Not unless he sees what you’ve covered up.”

“It’s better that way.”

“And why’s that? I thought we agreed that little birdie’s free to do what she wants--”

“And I thought you agreed to stay.” The words had fallen out in a trice before you had a chance to stop them. Tom wasn’t a fool to miss the anger behind them, and had he been a straight-up idiot, he would’ve missed the sadness in your eyes too.

His hand retracted the moment you continued. “That’s why Andy doesn’t know; because I got played by your game even though I know what you’re like, and it’s fucking embarrassing. I didn’t want Andy to find out that I was that stupid and naive to think that maybe for once, you wouldn’t be an asshole. It’s like it’s all some sort of prank for you, isn’t it? Because after all, you’re the one that comes out on top and I’m the one being humiliated. It’s always been that way, I should’ve been fucking smarter to know it was never going to change.”

Tom swallowed every word and embraced the silence for a moment before muttering your name in a voice quieter than normal.

Soft whispers…

“Just…do me a favour and leave me alone. Shouldn’t be too hard for you. God forbid Tom Holland spends more than one night with the same girl.”

Not sparing a second look, you turned towards the gate and quickly walked further from Tom who was left with nothing else to say. Although you were already fully convinced, you had secretly given Tom one last chance to explain himself. Just one chance to stop you and explain why he didn’t stay like he said he would, and still as you walked away and exited through the gates, he didn’t take it.

Each step you took was harder and quicker than the last. You drove your heel into the ground as that same frustration pumped through your veins, constantly abasing you for being so caught in the humiliation of it all.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself when you noticed your hands shaking. For a while, you spiralled into your own subconscious questioning why his absence this morning hurt you in a way you didn’t expect it to. No matter how profound your own self-analysis of what you were feeling was and why you were feeling it, you couldn’t find a remedy for it.

And like with every other problem in your life, instead of confronting it, you ran away from it.

~~~~

“Hi mum. How’s the holiday?” Your tone was chirper than usual as you spoke into your phone. It didn’t at all reflect how you were feeling inside, but you couldn’t let your mum worry about you. It would ruin her holiday.

“Hi honey, it’s nice hearing from you. It’s amazing; weather’s sunny and warm, the food’s great and all is relatively stress-free, well, except from when your dad dropped his passport at the airport and nearly lost it--”

“Jesus!”

“I know! I told him! The moron. Anyway, how are things with you and Andy? You sound like you’re outside. Oh God. Is the house still standing? It hasn’t burnt down has it?”

An airy chuckle fed through the line. If only she knew that Andy was just half of your problems. “Yes, it’s still standing so no need to panic. And I’m out for a walk. Decided I needed to leave the house for a bit to get some peace and fresh air. Andy has…been his usual self. Don’t get mad but he had a party the first night.”

“Ugh! I knew it! Truthfully, I always knew he was going to throw a party but I didn’t think it was going to be as early as the first night! Great. Now I owe your father a grand. It wasn’t too disastrous, was it? You must’ve spent the night in your shed. Did you get pizza delivered?”

You opened your mouth but no words came out. You never told her you were going to be staying in your shed, nor did you ever tell her about ordering pizza, regardless of the fact they happened on separate nights. She was still, in some aspect, right.

“Y-yeah, I did.” A long sigh broke the pause in between your words. “Hey, can I ask you something? And be honest with me.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Am I predictable?”

Your mother somewhat spluttered through the phone as she tried to find her words, obvious enough that if she had just said the first thing that came to her head you would’ve already had your answer.

Yes.

But of course, she was your mother, and in her sweet, maternal manner, she decided to answer delicately. “Well, you were always set in your ways, even from a young age. Very much a creature of habit. Routines and tendencies, you know?”

“So…I shouldn’t have a routine?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Everyone has a routine. For example, your dad and I get up at 7 every morning, we’re at work by 8, we come home at 5, we make dinner, we watch TV. Every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, I go to the gym. Yes, I have a routine but that doesn’t mean you’re going to know whether I’m in the mood for tea, coffee or vodka and it’s the same with you. I know you spend your evenings reading, but that doesn’t mean I know whether you’re going to read romance, mystery or horror. My point is; just because you have a routine, doesn’t mean your personality is predictable too, just the likelihood of your next steps. I’m just making it apparent that yours hasn’t changed since you were young. What’s got you asking?”

The truth sat on your tongue.

Andy’s best friend, Tom, whom I’ve hated most of my life, said he was going to fuck me even though I didn’t want to fuck him, but I still let him fuck me, and now I’m angry that I let him fuck me because it proved that he knew I was going to let him fuck me.

Obviously, that wasn’t what you really said. “Lately I’ve been feeling like everyone seems to know what I’m going to do before I even know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, change up your routine. Read in the afternoon and take a walk in the evening. Spend time in the living room instead of the shed.”

You hummed quietly, deliberating her advice. You remained quiet for just a second too long for her liking.

“Honey?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t help but wonder if this has something to do with Andy. He hasn’t said or…done anything hurtful to you, has he? You know it would break me if he was to repeat what he did ten years-”

“No, no, it’s okay. He hasn’t done anything in particular, at least nothing I can’t handle myself. Now go and enjoy the rest of your holiday. I’ll text you soon, love you.”

She sighed, unconvinced, but replied back with the same familial passion she had always shown you.

As the hours drifted late into the night, you made it to your local Starbucks and sat with your hot chocolate encased in your hands. While your book lay unused beside you, your old habits drove you to blankly stare out of the window, casually watching other people as they continued on with their life while you reflected on your own. The conversation you had with your mother still ran circles around your mind, and as ever the insightful person she was, you thought it best to heed her words carefully. Change your routine, she said.

What was your routine? What was a guarantee in your life? Well, for one, you had to look no further than your own memory of Tom’s words not too long ago. ‘It's hard enough that the sight of Andy makes you scuttle away so easily…’. As much as it pained you to admit, he was right. It was the only cause-and-effect Andy and his friends could rely upon. The longer you thought about it, the more and more of your little tendencies surfaced in your head.

So you decided to change them all.

When your mother said to change your routine, when translated into your mind it read along the lines of ‘when Andy comes along, don’t scuttle away. When his friends are invited over, stay in the house. Throw them off, don’t let them know your next steps.’ Although it was going against your human nature, you were going to put your mind to it. Do not let anyone have a higher power over you. Do not let anyone know what you might do next. It was going to be a real test of your mental and emotional stability.

~~~~~

As it had appeared, that test arrived sooner than you anticipated. Not two days after your mother had bestowed you with her advice, Andy had organised yet another party at your house. There wasn’t exactly a strategy in place per say, but you had already pre-emptively taken everything from your shed because you didn’t want to dangle the temptation of retreating to your sanctuary in front of you. You wanted to remain strong in your ambitions no matter how you were going to do it or how difficult it was going to be.

As night fell, you watched from the upstairs office’s tall windows as people started to flood into the house, just to get an idea of what to wear. You wanted to look the part, wanted to look like you belonged there and not just a lost ghost floating around the house like you had been before. Most girls you saw were pretty casual, thankfully swapping the short dresses and skirts to jeans and a nice top, choosing comfort over style, nevertheless still maintaining that expensive price tag. That shouldn’t be an issue; you pondered over the choice of Balenciaga shoes you had in your wardrobe.

Once the party had started, you gave yourself a generous 45 minutes to psych yourself up for the night ahead, throwing back a few drinks you had brought in from the shed, fixing up your hair and makeup with a little more detail, and spending many, many minutes staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes fell to your neck, the deep purple of the bruise had simmered to just a faint wash of pink that it wasn’t completely obvious to the eye, almost invisible in the dark. The foundation brush in your hand hovered a few inches above it, wavering between covering it up and leaving it be.

No. Leave it. Who cares who sees it? Not you. Not anymore.

The brush rattled against your vanity desk as you dropped it, turning towards your bedroom door and walking downstairs before a second thought could cross your mind.

With each step you took, you counted the number of things that were a guarantee for tonight: drink, drugs, games, chaos, debauchery, gambling, a mess. You had always seen the result of those things when you stepped onto the scene the next morning, but tonight, you were going to see them happen in action. A little daunting if anything, but if you were trying to look on the brighter side, you were fulfilling an unsuspecting part of your curiosity that had always wanted to see what exactly Andy got up to during these parties of his.

The crowd was once again split between the open living room, the kitchen and the veranda. There was no doubt that in time other rooms would eventually be used for other things, but the night was still young, sober and relatively innocent. You wanted to grow with it.

You couldn’t help but notice how you caught a few eyes with your entrance; a group of girls in the corner whispering between each other, a few of Andy’s friends turning their heads to catch a glance; shock, confusion and curiosity evident in their pregnant stares. It was attention you weren’t used to receiving, but that was the whole point of tonight. Change your routine. Be unpredictable. Be unreadable. Take control.

There was a pair of eyes you had yet to see, though.

Longing stare, gentle touch, soft whispers.

Stop it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” It was Andy, lips pursed, teeth gritted. It was obvious your sudden appearance was startling to him, and it was no surprise to you that he wasn’t taking it well. His control was slipping…

“Here? As in my own house? What could I possibly be doing here?” The sarcasm dripped from every word as you yanked back your own arm from Andy’s fist.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You smirked. “Says who?”

He opened his mouth again, at a loss, but was interrupted by louder, higher-pitched voices as they swarmed in from behind him. “Oh my God, Andy, is this your little sister?” It was Morgan, the girl Andy had brought back to your parents’ bed on the first night. She seemed to be engrossed with you, introducing herself animatedly and already inviting you to get drinks with her from the kitchen, much to Andy’s dismay. Despite being a little dumbfounded by Morgan’s sudden interest in you, you decided to not question it with the sheer satisfaction of knowing that you were stealing his attention.

“She was just leaving.”

“What? No, come on, let her join. You said tonight was going to be chill. ‘The more the merrier’, you said. Remember?”

Morgan whisked you away by the curl of her arm wrapped around your shoulder, bearing nothing but her pearly whites as she escorted you to the colourful array of expensive vodka bottles, mixed amongst the fat, golden champagne bottles on the kitchen counter, every second one uncorked. Morgan helped herself to the champagne glasses stacked up in the tall cupboard like she had done it so many times before, grabbing one for herself and one for you. God, it was like this wasn’t even your house and she was the hostess.

“It’s so nice to finally talk to you. You know you’re like a myth to us.”

Your laughter was loud and abrupt. “What?”

“No, seriously. We all knew Andy had a little sister but, like, we never see you.”

She handed you a glass of bubbling champagne and you took it delicately between your fingers, twirling as you reflected upon her words. “Well, I’ve decided to change that.”

“Good for you. I’m sure there’s plenty of people who want to meet you--oh! Talia! Over here! It’s Andy’s little sister!”

A slender body circled around yours and facing you was Talia, the girl you once fantasised over replacing. She greeted you with a smile on her face against the backdrop of her long, blonde hair as a red hue crossed yours. It was a smile that seemed genuinely welcoming and a sly thought spawned in your mind; maybe she doesn’t know about you spying on her that first night…

You couldn’t imagine her being so welcoming if she did.

“Oh hey! I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so strange seeing you outside your shed.” It was so strange to see her not latching onto Tom. Speaking of, where was he? “By the way, thanks for letting me use your toilet that first night, I don’t think I would’ve made it if you hadn’t. I was just so drunk and I literally couldn’t hold it.”

“Sure, it was no problem.”

“Really? I kept thinking that I had pissed you off.”

Well…“Don’t worry, it wasn’t you. It was…um, Tom. Didn’t want him in, honestly.”

A look of disgust contorted her features at the mention of his name. It didn’t make sense in your head albeit it was something you could resonate with. Perhaps you weren’t the only one to be foolish enough to lose at his game. Her eyes rolled widely and the click of her tongue conveyed a message that didn’t need words. She apparently despised him. Both a sucker for gossip, Morgan filled you in on the details with Talia giving extra snippets of insight every ten seconds or so, and after an unnecessarily long and dramatic build up, you found out that Talia and Tom used to have a little friends-with-benefits-no-strings-attached situation going on over a number of months. Talia had been using Tom in the same way he was using her; to alleviate boredom. It wasn’t news, honestly. In fact, it was hardly discreet. But the shock came from what Talia told you after.

“He texted me like three nights ago saying he wanted to end it.”

He would’ve been with you when he texted her. You must’ve been asleep by the time he did. A nervous glance to your left gave away your paranoia, regardless you probed for more. “Why?”

“Something about maturing or growing up or whatever.” She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder with a short, unbothered sigh, her phone now perched in front of her face. “Oh well. I mean it wasn’t like we were exclusive. I can get my fun elsewhere.”

Stuck in thought, your eyes mindlessly gazed over Talia’s shoulder where your focus pulled your attention to the living room, full of bodies sitting, standing, conversing, drinking, all blurring into one amalgamation of movement. But there in the centre of the room was one motionless figure, a solid rock amongst the waves and it caught your attention immediately.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Adrenaline was fed through your veins at the sight of Tom, just like it had done before. His stature was strong and confident as he faced you, clutching a beer in hand while the other burrowed into his pocket. He had you in his sights and with a glare so firm from eyes so dark, you found yourself being ensnared by them. You couldn’t put a name to the expression on his face and it left you wondering what his intentions were. Several ideas coursed through your mind but none had any semblance of plausibility.

With slow and careful movements, Tom tilted his head in a smooth motion to crack his neck. Only then, did you figure out what was going through his head.

With a breath caught in your lungs, you stayed vigilant as he subtly raised his beer just inches into the air with the neck of the bottle tilted slightly in your direction, dedicating a small, personal toast with the gentle nod of his head. What the hell did that mean?

You swallowed, cautious. You turned your attention back to Talia. “So…um, you haven’t heard from him since?”

Her eyes looked at you from the phone. “No. Knowing him, he’s probably moved onto someone else. Lucky bitch whoever it is. Tom was kinda my favourite to fuck around with. He knew what he was doing if you know what I mean.”

“No.” You deadpanned. “I don’t.”

Oh yes you do…

Having that very enlightening conversation with Morgan and Talia was just the first of many. Every second you spent around the house, the more people began to realise that you were here to stay and took the opportunity to find out all about Andy’s mysterious little sister. As introverted as you thought you were, you were actually enjoying the conversations, realising that not every one of Andy’s friends were as conceited as he was. At first it was the girls, watched by many begrudging boys as you single-handedly stole their attention, a problem that could only be resolved by joining them, chatting to you, finding out more about you and lure out the embarrassing stories of Andy they knew you had stored away somewhere. You were more than happy to oblige as it passed that point in the night when people had estranged themselves from sobriety, opening up with every drop they drank, including you. Although, you told yourself you didn’t want to take things too far, not on your first night of liberation from Andy’s silent clutches of which he was struggling to retain.

You had chatted to all but two. Two boys who had cowered to the far ends of the room for the majority of the night, watching, observing, refusing to follow the crowd. There was no attempt to patronise you, manipulate you, mock you in any way because, like your mother had suggested, you were completely out of routine. So out of character that the boys didn’t know what to do and unlike what you were dreading earlier, the party had developed into something you were happily embracing. It had actually pained you to take a break from the party when your phone had completely drained of its battery, so overused from adding multiple people on socials, adding numbers, taking photos that it had actually died.

Quietly excusing yourself, you made your way up to your bedroom believing you hadn’t been followed. It wasn’t until you tried to close your door behind you that a foot had stopped it from sealing you in. You barely made it to your charger when the intruder grabbed your arms and violently spun you around.

“What are you doing, get the fuck out my room!” Alcohol fuelled your anger as you spat words at your brother who was far from pleased.

“You little shit. You told all my friends about Mexico?!”

Mexico was your biggest weapon against Andy. It was a time where you and your family went on a summer holiday to Cancun a couple of years ago; an amazing time for you, but for Andy, it was his most embarrassing memory. Just days after arriving, Andy had an unfortunate incident involving the sea, lost swimming trunks, and a very awkward interaction with a lifeguard. Andy was absolutely mortified and the rest of the family giggled uncontrollably as they vowed to him to never tell a soul. It didn’t stop them from talking about it when the family got together, and while they kept their promise to never tell another soul, you had been embarrassed one too many times by Andy to solemnly keep that vow.

“Serves you right for embarrassing me in front of your friends all those other times-”

“That’s not the fucking same!”

“In fact, you’re right. Mexico doesn’t even begin to cover the amount of times you’ve embarrassed me. Now get off me before I start telling all your friends about everything else.”

His grip tightened, containing your struggle. “You’re not going back downstairs,” he ordered.

“Face it, Andy. You’re just too scared to admit that all your friends actually prefer me over you. That’s why you never ever let me near when you have them round.” You knew all too well that you were provoking him, something that you promised yourself never to do again, but you’ve lived so many years cowering from him. Just for once, you wanted to give him what he deserved.

“Shut up!” Enraged, Andy shoved you, and you landed just short of your bed, your spine landing onto the wooden bedframe with a clatter. With the door being closed and the music blasting downstairs, no one could hear the fight ensuing in your room. Once again, you were left to fend for yourself. But you were older and stronger than what you were ten years ago, surely you could stand a better chance against him.

In a tanlge of limbs, punches and kicks were thrown where and when possible, the two of you caught up in a careless fight with no clear winner. It lasted several pain-inducing minutes until the final, winning blow was taken by Andy who had managed to get you pinned to the ground. You weren’t sure what to expect from him as he forced you to the ground. Of course damage had already been done, but what else could Andy do to ensure you would stay here like he wanted you to? He knew as well as you did that at the first chance of escape, you would take it, so with every second that passed, the worry and fear in you increased. He was stuck for options, having nothing to keep you pinned.

There was an intense moment of anticipation. Your eyes remained locked in place with his as you internally battled it out with each other, waiting for either to have the chance to do something.

You clocked the moment his eyes wandered to your neck and heat rushed to your cheeks because you knew exactly what caught his attention.

“What’s that?”

“None of your business,” you spat. “Let go--”

“Is that…is that a hickey?” His voice was incredulous as he brushed a harsh finger over it, expecting it to be make-up but when it didn’t disappear, his eyes locked back onto you and his hand remained around your neck. “Who?” He demanded. The fire inside him roared ferociously. For a moment, the thought that he could potentially suffocate you crossed your mind. “Who?!”

To both of your surprise, the door swung open. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Get off of her!”

Andy’s weight was alleviated from you very swiftly, and your eyes caught on to the soft brown curls of Tom as he hauled him away from you, giving you just enough time to catch your breath and find your feet. By the time you came to stand, Tom had Andy shoved against your bedroom wall, a look of confusion riddling his face. He still didn’t know why his best friend had sided with you, and it made him all the more angry to think about what you had said earlier. He wasn’t ready to admit anything.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Tom yelled, face reddening by the second. “She’s your sister?!”

Andy glared at him through furrowed brows. Defending you was so uncharacteristic of him so it felt like a stab in the back for Andy. “Why are you taking her side in this, man?”

“How could I possibly take your side when you just attacked her?”

The two boys continued to argue in front of you while you stood silently behind them. The novelty of having Tom openly defend you against Andy had yet to wear off, so you were curious to see how far he would go and how it would play out.

“Dude, she told everyone about Mexico!”

“So? You’ve embarrassed her in front of all of us before.” Damn, right he has. “You told us all she was a virgin--”

“Was?” There was a brief silence in the argument, the gears winding in Andy’s head. His eyes twitched, stealing a glance of you behind Tom’s shoulder but contempt drove them back to Tom. “You know, don’t you? Who did it? Huh? Who left that thing on her neck?”

“Probably someone who can do a better job of looking after her than you can--”

You decided to finally cut in. You mustered the confidence and spoke firmly. “Tell him.”

Tom turned to you, a little surprised, almost as if he wanted confirmation of what you just asked him to do. With his eyes gazing over your features like they had done so many times before, he was able to clearly see the resolution written in your eyes and the confidence he saw as you stood your ground, unblinking. A small smirk tugged at his lips. He could read you so well.

Little birdie’s free to do what she wants.

“It was me.”

“You…no, you’re lying. I don’t believe you.”

“He’s telling the truth.” You came to a stand in front of Andy. “The night you had all your friends round for sports night. Tom left early, didn’t he?”

“How do you know that, you were in your shed…”

“Because he didn’t go home. Did you not think it was weird that he came back the next day with a hickey on his neck? That it’s just as faded as mine is now?”

An epiphany soon glossed over Andy’s eyes. “You were holding your neck…but you-you said you had neck cramp.”

“Or I was covering something up.”

Andy looked to you, to Tom and then back to you, betrayal and anger riddling his features. Between you and Tom, neither of you could quite tell who he was going to lash out at first and as a precaution, Tom took a step in front of you, curling his arm around your front. You initially thought it strange that Tom felt the need to protect you given what your brother had just found out, especially since you knew that you were considered ‘off-limits’ to your brother’s friends. Then again, it wasn’t out of brotherly-protection, it was out of greed and possession, and knowing Andy and his lack of familial compassion, you realised that you were just as much in the firing line as Tom was. His next words attested to that.

“You…whore.”

Now Andy had called you a lot of things, but a whore was never one of them. It had your blood boiling, your skin crawling with absolute disgust, and your molars grinding together. What did you do to deserve a brother as rancid as him?

The moment he uttered that word, you pounced for him in a blinding rage. What stopped you from actually hitting him was Tom, making a very mature decision to collect all of your flailing, swinging limbs and calmly escort you out of the room. Andy attempted to retaliate but with a swift and threatening ‘do not fucking touch her’ from Tom, he retreated and sulked his way to his room. Regardless, you refused to relent until you were safely out of his sight, out into the front garden and trailing towards the front gate with the music of the party dulling behind you.

Once you reached the gates, Tom turned to you once to ask you if you were okay and in your alcohol-adrenaline-induced state, you simply nodded. That was good enough for him.

Wordlessly you followed Tom, having little to no idea what he was doing or where he was taking you. All you knew was that he had your hand in his and you were walking out of your driveway. You shook your hand lethargically to test whether or not he would let go but his grip only tightened, apparently adamant on his decision to take you away from here.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going back to my house.”

“Why?”

“So that this time, you’ll know I’ll stay.”

All things considered, you should’ve said no. You should’ve reminded yourself exactly why you were trying to avoid Tom. You should’ve stopped him and given him a ‘what-for’ for all the hurt he had caused you like you did with Andy. But you didn’t because you couldn’t stop reminding yourself of why you wanted to say yes.

Rough hands, dark eyes, desperate moans. Longing stare, gentle touch, soft whispers.

You were tired of the reasoning, tired of the tension, tired of constantly battling, and tired of trying to decipher what every little minute detail meant. You just wanted to say yes and get on with it.

So you did.

Part 3 coming soon

#why am i nervous to post this???#i rlly hope you guys like it #i know its just a filler #this shit will have a part 3 #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #smut #dom!tom holland #rich!tom holland #tom holland imagine #enemies to lovers #big brothers best friend #little birdie #tom holland x you #peter parker fic

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thompsborn · 2 months

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14 years old, only like a month into being spider-man, peter takes down a mugger and the guy is cursing peter out and peter just calmly says "i'm fourteen" and watches this dude have a crisis

"no you're not"

"i literally am. did you not hear my voice cracking every two seconds? pretty sure i only started going through puberty last week"

"you're lying"

"believe what you want"

"why would you tell me that if it's true"

"because no one will believe you and i think that's funny. also i want you to know that you just lost to a freshman in high school. even if you don't believe me, you can't prove that i'm lying. this is never going to leave your brain. i won the physical fight and now i'm playing with psychological warfare. and i called the cops. anyways, bye!"

mugger gets arrested and is like "no seriously i swear to god he was in these like red and blue pajamas and had a mask and goggles and he said he was fourteen and psychological warfare and-"

#idk if anyone else will be entertained by this but mcu peter being a little shit means the world to me #i mean lets be clear every single version of peter parker is a little shit #but mcu peter is painted as this innocent little fuckhead by a lot of the mcu fandom which like. sure yeah its fan content have fun with it #but personally peter's sass and attitude and anger problems are some of my favorite aspects of his character #“if you think about it this is really your fault” bro said that to TONY STARK to his FACE #he only backpedaled because tony was visibly upset by those words but dude was fully about to commit to that angle #peter (blaming himself; drowning in guilt): ya actually i did nothing wrong im 16 and its all ur fault so maybe calm the fuck down thanks

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demigod-of-the-agni · 3 months

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Peter Parker if he got bit by a radioactive sword ☢️🟢⚔️

if I had a nickel for every time I made a Spider-Man au based off a video game, I'd have three nickels, which isn't a lot but it's concerning that it's happened three times. This au is the spidey/final fantasy vii mashup, where Peter becomes the Unreliable Narrator

anyway someone pretty please write this au for me <333 I'll pay you <3333333

bg variants under the cut

the BIGGEST dilemma(s) was figuring out if I should

A) keep the eyes in my art style (no colours, just the highlight), bc ngl it makes him seem more babey (pic 1),,, or

B) add the mako-glow to the eyes so i could be lore-accurate.... also I spent a lot of time!! on colouring in those pixels!!!!! dammit!!!!!!!!! (pic 2) and

C) OF COURSE i was struggling to choose between the white and red backgrounds!!!!! evil me!!!!!!! making difficult creative decisions!!!!!!

i will,,,, try to draw the other peeps as well (mj as tifa and gwen as aerith ,,, mmm yesss esysey yes ssss) but i fear the monkey brain has already died........ i will try tho,,,,,,,,,,

#finally. i drew the little freaky white boy after.... many many months of not drawing him #do you see the little spider :) it's. it's because he's spider-man!! (it's a very ugly spider i forgive you if you can't find it)#bro looks like a kpop idol im literally screaming #dance for us baby boy. honey bee inn that shit. crank that soulja boy. break it til ya make it #listen i have to draw peter in cloud's pretty blue dress sometime otherwise i WILL explode...........#anyway be like me and refuse to draw legs !!!!!! what are lower limbs!!!!???? who cares !!!!!! just run away when confronted by femurs!!!!!#you would not believe how long i had to stare at cloud's arms in order to make sense of them. why are his triceps so fucked up #many times i had to stop myself from jumping into my laptop screen and succumb to the fiery CPU death bc MY GOD....#i am SWEATING..... EURHG #also obviously new colouring/shading thing again.... ough...... consistent art style WHEN #what the fuck do i tag this as???#peter parker #spider man fanart #spider man #ffvii #final fantasy vii #agni and his many many au's number 39874 #artoftheagni

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alex-grace · 2 years

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｡ﾟ☁︎｡the first time you saw me cry ｡☁︎｡ﾟ

tw: mild language

wc: 1.5k

She heard sniffling.

And right across her room, was her dorm mate, Peter Parker. There was no way, right?

She gave it a minute at first. After living in Avengers Compound for as she had, she knew it was never a good sign to walk over immediately. Unless they were screaming, that’s how you know the nightmares from the daily cry. But the quiet sobs, the sniffling, and those invisible tears?

You could never truly tell.

At the 58-second mark, she started walking. But it had gotten quieter as she neared. The door was open, but Peter was nowhere in sight. She walked around, trying to hear as best as she could. It has been coming from the bathroom. The light was on, and the door cracked, letting the soft yellow light flow through.

“Parker? You in here?” She could hear the wrestling of a jacket.

“Oh, yeah-yeah I’m here, um yeah,”

“Do you mind if I come in? I mean if you’re taking a shit you really need to learn to close your doors.”

“No,” He laughed, not a Peter Parker laugh--a moment of serenity if anything.

He gave her the sign to come in, and she open the door to see Peter Parker sitting up on the carpet of his bathroom floor.

She didn’t hesitate to sit right now right down next to him, and then to lay down.

He questioned her. She hadn’t looked him in the eye yet.

She knew when she did, they would be red.

“One of those days huh,” She said calmly.

He hesitated. “No, no I mean- it’s, it’s fine,”

Stuttering.

She patted the small space of grey carpet next to her. It was a small squeeze, but they could fit two. She gestured for him to join her on the floor after seeing his obvious confusion--he obliged, and they lay in silence for a few moments

“I guess it’s a bathroom thing,” she said. Peter looked over at her.

She was laying straight--her ankles crossed and her arms lay lightly on her stomach, eyes staring into the white ceiling.

Peter didn’t respond, just looking at her questioningly.

She said, “I thought it was just my bathroom, that’s comforting.”

“Do you lay down on your bathroom floor a lot?"

“Well, how much is a lot?”

Peter scoffed softly as he looked back up to the ceiling. He hated the urge he had to keep looking over at her.

Her.

She was his best friend---she was the first one he befriended when he first came into the compound. The first one who wanted to know Peter for who he was, not who’s Spider-Man was.

He always thought she looked pretty because it was true. She was one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen. Y/N had been an Avenger for years before Peter came into the picture. He never forgot their first meeting back in Germany.

…

“I’ve only got one job here today and I got it impressed Mr. Stark so, so I’m really sor-,”

“Boo.” A voice whispered behind him.

He didn’t realize it then, but his spider sense had never gone off at that moment.

She hit him with a blast of energy, gold energy, to be exact.

He had fallen about three feet from the glass-covered floor before he gained his wits and swung to the next pole.

Y/N had taken that moment to look over at the bodies of Sam and Bucky. Conscious, thankfully, but somehow beaten up.

How the hell did they lose to web-ster over here, she thought to herself.

“What the-Holy shit! You’re Y/S/N?” Peter had asked.

“What the hell are you?” She had retorted back, as another energy wisp was sent flying toward the new super. Luckily this time, Peter had his wits sorted through, and was able to dodge in time as he swung down to ground level with Y/N.

“You’re like one of the-,” He said as he threw a punch at the newcomer. “-coolest superheroes there is.”

Y/N grunted as she attempted a kick to his ribs, as Spider-Man swung up and landed behind her.

He could tell she was getting tired of his obvious dodging of every swing he threw her way. She stood with her back to him for a second too longer than usual.

Assuming anything about Y/N would be his first mistake.

She moved fast enough for his spidey sense to kick in a few moments too late. So late that Peter was grounded, flat to the dirty terminal floor. With Y/N directly on top, sliding a knife from her knee on his ribcage.

He blamed his heart racing from the adrenaline.

“I’ll make sure to let Stark know bug-boy.”

She slashed the dagger toward his right side, luckily he was able to dodge out of its way, throwing her off of him.

The two brawled for a few minutes, the only sound was the crunching of broken glass and caught punches.

And the occasional heart skips if you're Peter Parker.

She was able to kick him away a few feet, causing Peter to stumble. He made a point to get back up as possible, but Y/N wasn’t in a fighting stance.

She was just standing there. Studying him.

Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God

“You’re cute,” She said as she tilted her head, and took a step toward him. Peter was too surprised at her sudden tone change to notice the strands of gold energy from behind Y/N’s back.

“Making me feel sorry bug-boy.”

“WWAAAHH!”

…

“What’s going on?” Her soft voice broke Peter out of the flashback. She was looking at him now.

Her and her Y/C eyes. He forgot for a second that he wasn’t in Germany. That they weren’t enemies, and that they for sure weren’t flinging each other out windows.

“Do you remember Germany?” He asked.

Y/N was taken aback as those golden brown eyes looked back at her. She always stutters when she’s looking at him. I mean, how could someone not?

The “Civil War” as it has now been dubbed, is a topic rarely conversed about in the compound. That doesn’t stop it from consuming Y/N’s thoughts from time to time.

…

“Making me feel sorry bug-boy.”

“WWAAAHH!”

She had sent his flying through the glass of the windows up ahead. She sighed as she jogged over to where Sam and Bucky’s front-row seat.

“You could’ve done that earlier?” Bucky complained.

Y/N grabbed her dagger and helped Sam out of the webs first instead.

“Falling for the enemy Y/L/N?” Sam said cheekily

“Not. A. Word. Wilson.”

“Hey c’mon, there were a lot of witnesses to this new love story. Right Barnes?”

Y/N didn’t bother to retaliate, her face had confusion and embarrassment all over her. Her eyebrow’s crinkled, causing a small line on her forehead, her mouth slightly opened as she considered the bewilderment Sam was preaching. She looked over to the Winter Solder next to her, as he ripped off the last of the sticky webs laced to his silver arm.

A small shrug, nod, and a frown is what she got from the ex-assassin.

Y/N could hear chaos going on in her comms, the three knew they needed to get out of there fast.

“I won’t mention you lost to the bug if you cease your fire?” Y/N called out quickly to Sam.

“Touché.”

…

“As always. God, you were so annoying. You talked so much. I had a knife to your lung and all you could talk about was how I was your favorite superhero.”

Peter was laughing now, her tone so full of false anger. Y/N laughed with him.

Her laugh grounded him. It kept him sane as nothing else could. Maybe even, ever could.

But that’s what best friends were for right? To catch each other when one falls?

For one to love the other too much, and the other never enough.

“You love me,” Peter said. He took a chance there. But in true Peter Parker fashion, he covered it up. “I mean, now, I would hope, at le-,”

“Yeah,”

Peter had never shut up so quickly in his life.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

They were laying on their sides, both of them, doing nothing but staring into the eyes of each other.

Who knows, maybe someone could’ve finally pulled on that thread and made a move.

Pietro Maximoff had other plans.

A whir of blue and platinum blonde whipped in the corner of Y/N’s eye.

“Hey Spider-kid do you still have that OH MY GOD-”

Peter and Y/N turned their heads quickly to the standing interruption in front of the bathroom door. Pietro stood there still as Y/N's ever seen. He covered his eyes with one hand, peeking through two fingers.

“I-Uh- Use protection.” In a blink, he was gone.

Peter looked at Y/N.

Y/N looked at Peter.

“What the fu-”

｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡☁︎｡ﾟ｡

#pietro being a c0ck-block #hes a little shit but hes our favorite little shit #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x avengers reader #peter parker x fem!reader #avengers #marvel #the first time you ever saw me cry

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frostironfudge · 1 year

Text

Melting At Your Touch - Peter Parker

Summary: Your boyfriend, Peter brings in something special and sensual.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 897

Warnings: main kink: wax play, smut, p in v, oral fem receiving, d/s dynamics, nicknames - peach, grinding, fingering, edging, praise kink, sensual massage, note all characters are 18+ in the fic, MINORS DNI.

A.N: @stevesmewmew here is Mr. Parker for you

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Kinktober Materlist

The scent of amber awakens the senses mixed with a soft lavender. The flickering hue of the candles coat the walls with the same soothing sizzle of the wick as he blows the flame out.

The warm liquid pours on your abdomen before rivulets form heating your skin in the direction of their choosing. A warm hand moves the warm oil in circles gently massaging it into your skin. You whimper when his pelvis rubs against your puffy cunt.

He carefully tweaks a nipple and then pours the wax onto the taut nub, you hiss, then his thumb brushes over, circling around your nipple, your lips part,

“Peter.” You moan as he bites on the other nipple, tugging on it.

“I know Peach, I know.” His tongue swirls around your nipple before he pours more wax each drop heating your skin and sending jolts through you and to your aching, dripping core.

He sets the candle aside, the glass softly scrapes against the bedside table. Both of his hands giving you complete attention, soft, deep, smooth strokes igniting your skin he cups your breasts.

“So fucking beautiful, Peach. I can see you dripping for me. Can almost taste you too.” Peter hums pleased with your body’s response, hands move over your side around your hips, he lights the candle again to melt more wax.

His hold returns to your hips, lifting and holding you flush against his hips, hard covered cock rubbing against your folds you cry out for him.

Peter chuckles, head dipping to capture your lips in a heady kiss, hands lower your hips down and his right hand slides up your side, moving under you, over your back, you moan into the kiss as he massages the still tender spot from his earlier teasing touches.

The slickness between your folds beckoning him closer. You whined for him but Peter doesn’t relent.

He breaks the kiss to check on the candle pleased with the amount of liquid accumulated. Lips trail your neck, your fingers tug on his hair.

“Peter, need you.” You whisper, he nips at the flesh under your earlobe.

“I need you too, Peach, just a while more.” He cautions, parting from your skin.

The candle wick blown out, your limbs shake when the liquid comes into contact with your inner thighs, his palm slides toward where you need him but he stops, repeating the action on the same side.

Then the trail of liquid is on your shins and around your ankles. He sets the candle down again. Slow, languid, circles from your calf to the back of your thighs.

You sigh, then Peter’s lips suck upon your clit you cry out, he smirks.

“So fucking sweet, fuck the scent just enhances yours Peach, want to be marked by you, claimed by you.” He says, lapping at your folds as if a starved man.

Your fingers find his brown locks, tugging and drawing him close, his name a prayer falling from your tongue.

The embers of pleasure begin to climb up your spine, toes curling, Peter growls hands around your hips drawing you closer, nose brushing over your clit. You cry out as the pleasure overtakes your body.

Head thrown back in ecstasy as Peter has you fall apart for him. He moans as you coat his tongue, lips and face, his ministrations don’t stop, you begin to feel the tendrils again.

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” Your mouth goes slack then you whine but immediately moan as he slides home into you, groaning at the way your cunt squeezes his cock.

“Fuck, Peach, you feel so fucking good. Such a good girl for me, so pretty, so perfect.” He begins to thrust, your hands find his shoulder and back, nails digging in, Peter shifts closer, your hips raised legs wrapped around his waist.

Moans intertwined, momentarily he stops again, flipping you over, the angle has you feel him deeper and hit the spot that has you seeing stars and crying out for him, he raises you up.

Not slowing his thrusts, one hand playing with your clit and the other twisting your nipple, your orgasm crashes into you, squeezing his cock with your spasming walls. Your hands wrap around his shoulders, moving to his hair as you moan at his words,

“That’s it Peach, can feel me everywhere can’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll fill all your pretty little holes tonight.” He promises.

“One more peach one fucking more.” He roars, greedy to have you fall apart once more, to have you mark his cock before he claims your cunt.

His fingers move with precision and speed, you come undone as the sensations have your jaw slack, he thrusts once, twice, biting down on your shoulders as his hips stutter spilling his warm seed into you.

Your eyes droop, breathing hard as you return to his gentle touches and encouraging words.

“Here with me Peach?” He questions, pressing a soft kiss to your temple when your hoarse voice verbalises, yes.

He slowly retreats from you, pulling you against his chest holding the water for you.

“That felt, good.” You admit, he grins.

“Now will you let me take over candle shopping time to time?” He teases, you hide your face in his neck.

“How many more scents are there?” You ask.

Peter smirks, “Five more, we’ve got time to try all, my sweet Peach.”

-x-

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idk-bruh-20 · 1 year

Text

Irondad fic ideas #107

You've seen the Twitter fics where folks go out of their way to make whole Twitter profiles and properly-formatted tweet threads

You've seen the social media fics with Instagram posts so legit-looking they even have user comments and screenshots of IG stories

You've seen Youtube fics and fake Buzzfeed articles and everything in between

Now get ready for, in this same style, a Tumblr fic*

Featuring, for example:

Peter has a Tony Stark fan account that has been active for like a decade

Flash has a Spider-Man fan account that regularly harasses Peter's account. He leaves comments, asks, makes his own posts about Peter being a fake intern, and has a whole tag on his blog dedicated to #peter's lies (or maybe #penis lol I feel like Flash could get some uh. not intended results for that one)

Spider-Man has an account. Tumblr users discover which account is his WAY faster than he wanted them to

Maybe he saves someone and quips about his most recent hyperfixation, and the person he saved happens to be on Tumblr and happens to notice at 2am an account called wallcrawler posting about that exact same piece of media

Maybe there's a villain with truly unholy looking shoelaces and Peter without even thinking about it quips, "Nice shoelaces, did you steal them from the president?" only to then realize what he's done and someone's caught it on camera and we see Spider-Man rapidly go through the five stages of grief

Stark Industries has a tumblr! They also have a tag dedicated to #kid sightings, #cryptid of si

If they also have tags #tony stark has a heart, #irondad moments, and #stark jr., well.. their boss doesn't need to know

The Twitter apocalypse happens, and a bunch of Avengers migrate over to Tumblr

(Which Avengers do you think seem, perhaps, a little too familiar with this website already...)

(Tumblr sleuths clock Clint's secret blog within the hour. Nat, who has become acclimated to the website very quickly, reblogs Clint's post where he's whining about it with just, "You're supposed to be a spy." It goes viral immediately.)

Y'all know the wild ads we get on this hellsite? Pikachu man? Shaving? What kinds of ads do you think the MCU might have

*to be clear, we're talking about a fic with screenshots of carefully crafted fake tumblr posts and conversations! not a tumblr account roleplaying as various characters and interacting that way!

#irondad fic ideas #also feel free to just add to this with headcanons about mcu tumblr lol #I feel like there is SO much untapped potential here #someone with photoshop skills pls hop on this idiot train STAT #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #peter parker #tony stark #irondad fic idea #fic idea #fic ideas #social media fic #fic ideas still postponed but i'm back on my bullshit just a little #which basically means if you send me shit right now there's a chance i'll see it and share it. at risk to my sleep and health #see announcements

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