Peter Parker X Y/n - Blog Posts

The Sun is a Blue Moon (Part 2)

A/N: here’s part two of the sun is a blue moon! I wrote this once and hated it about 3k in so I scrapped it and started over and I’m waaaay happier with how it came out than what I originally had planned. Oh and it ended up all being from Peters third person view somehow??? yeah idk. I hope y’all like it <3

Summary: “Only the gentle are ever really strong.” - James Dean

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: violence, blood, injuries, fighting, battle, anxiety, panic, fearing the death of a loved one, gried, sadness, death

Playlist: End of the World by Nightriots

             Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe, FINNEAS

             As the World Caves in by Sarah Cothran

read part one here

Peter looked back to his notes, checking to make sure his measurements were correct before adding the white cap into the potion, the bubbling encouraging him further. He observed the reaction before picking up his pen and jotting down what he saw on the marked up page, his pinkie smudging the still drying inscriptions on the line above. He adjusted his glasses before continuing on with his work, his mind wandering to y/n who was currently in care of magical creatures while he was in his free period, working on his own potions. His eyes flashed down to the small daffodil colored yarn bracelet that was woven in with white yarn that she had made for him. Everyone in their group had gotten one that she made them in their house color except him. He was special and got her house color. Her glowing face filled his mind and he couldn’t help but smile a little. 

Peter Parker was in love. 

He had been in love with y/n since early December when the snow was just starting to really stick to the ground and everyone wore their thickest robes. He didn’t know when it happened- there wasn’t some defining moment that pushed him off the proverbial cliff, but he realized it when they were laying together in his bed. Y/N had snuck into the Ravenclaw common room which took quite the effort on her part, having not only managed to sneak from one end of the castle to the other since the Hufflepuff dorms and Ravenclaw tower were on opposite ends of the castle, but she had also spent quite some time trying to guess the riddle that would allow her into Ravenclaw. She wasn’t good at riddles but she’d taken her time and got lucky. Peter hadn’t known she was coming and when he was woken by a small poke on his bare shoulder, he’d woken and had to blink a couple times, making sure it was girlfriend looking down at him.

“How did you get in here?” He was bewildered and looking behind him to make sure that his roommate was still asleep and sure enough he, being the heavy sleeper he was, was still out cold.

“I guessed the riddle.” She whispered with a shrug like that was all she needed to explain. 

His hand ran across his one eye. He took her in, looking for a visible explanation as to why she had taken such a huge risk to get there. He was now more awake and realized her eyes were irritated and her cheeks duller and stripped of its natural oils, suggesting she had either recently washed her face or been crying. He went with the latter once he took in her locket that was twisted around and the clasp close to the locket itself. It looked like her fingers hadn’t been able to let go of it all night. The first time he had seen her have an anxiety attack, her small first had been gripping the locket like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth. He always knew the days her anxiety was bad with just a look at the chain around her neck.

Instantly becoming more alert, he sat up, large hand framing her face while his other found her hand. “What happened?”

Swallowing, she sucked on her bottom lip and he saw tears start to rise in her eyes. “You know that bird's nest that’s right outside the window of the common room?”

He thought back to the birds nest saga he had been getting daily updated on for the last week. The entire house of Hufflepuff was enamored by the mother dove that had built a nest in the crook of one of the outside windows in the Hufflepuff common room. Two days ago she had laid four eggs, all varying shades of blue with brown spots of them. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. 

Her chin quivered and more tears rapidly flooded her eyes. “One of the eggs fell out of the nest earlier tonight.”

His heart dropped in his chest. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She collapsed into him and his arms enveloped her and wrapped around her tightly, pulling her further into his warm bed and throwing the blanket over her as well. She cried softly into his chest, tears hitting his bare skin as he smoothed down the back of her hair, leaving small kisses on her forehead. 

“She was so sad.” She cried softly. “She just kept looking for it in the nest.”

It was sad to hear but he didn’t quite feel it as deeply as he knew y/n did. Hufflepuffs were natural empaths and felt things deeply, y/n maybe more so than the average Hufflepuff. He knew that her heart was aching and she was feeling everything the mother bird was feeling. 

Her crying stopped after a few minutes but they didn’t barely move after. 

“I’m going to go and see if I can find the egg in the morning. I already looked for it but it’s too dark.”

He loathed the idea of her wandering the grounds at night by herself but knew why she did what she did and that at that point it didn’t matter nor was it the time to say something about it, even if the idea of it did scare the shit out of him. There were dangerous things outside of Hogwarts at night.

“I’ll go with you. We can give it a little funeral if we have to.”

She nodded, face somber. “Please.”

The gentle silence filled the space around them and Peter put a kiss on the tip of her red nose, rubbing her back to soothe her. Having her in his bed made him feel at ease in a way he didn’t know he needed. He was going to have a difficult time not having her beside him at night now that he knew what it was like. Maybe y/n could give him some pointers on how to get into Hufflepuff.

“I like this.” She confessed, her voice nearly undetectable, eyes trusting and allowing him to see right into her. He was the only person on the planet she dropped her guard in front of. A brick wall of anxiety and self consciousness had been impenetrable to everyone except for him. He had been able to find a secret door in that brick wall.

“Me too.” He whispered back. 

“Oh.” She inhaled. “I found that book on unicorns you were looking for.”

His ears perked up. “Yeah?”

“Someone misplaced it. Found it in the Wizarding War section. I checked it out for you.”

He stared at her, his thumb pulling gently at her smooth bottom lip. “What would I do without you?”

“Be without a citation.” She snarked with a small smile. “Always have ink on your face. Get into way more fights.” She listed.

He smirked at the mention of a fight. 

Two weeks prior to that he had punched a Slytherin in the face for calling y/n a mudblood. He was one of those pure blood elitists and didn’t realize that Peter had been within earshot when he said it. “I don’t know how Parker dates a mudblood” he had sneered in disgust. Peter had felt anger before. He’d even say he has felt rage before. It may not have been a very common occurrence but he was not unfamiliar with being so angry he felt red hot rage, but he had never before felt white hot rage until the moment the word mudblood fell from the Slytherin boy's tongue. It filled his body starting at his chest and going into his hands, making them pulse and his vision go hazy. He had walked up to the boy and decked him right in the face- right there in the waiting to begin classroom. It had gotten him in serious trouble but he didn’t care. He had accepted and knew those consequences would come the second the Slytherin hit the floor. He wasn’t going to let anyone mouth off about his girl, let alone in front of him and especially not when they called her a mudblood.

She had balked when he told her why his right hand was swollen and with a small break in the skin at the knuckle on his middle finger. After making him promise he wouldn’t go around punching anyone else- yes even if they did call her a mudblood, she had eagerly pushed him against the wall of the vacant hallway, taking him beyond surprise, and kissed him until he was dizzy and couldn’t think straight. If someone had asked him then for a potions equation he had already mastered he wouldn’t have been able to give them a single number. 

“See the thing about that is that after that fight you kissed me and it’s a kiss I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Her ears went red and he could only chuckle at this. “I still can’t believe me throwing a punch did it for you.”

“It wasn’t because you punched someone.” She argued, eyes down on his lips. “It’s because you punched someone for me. You defended me and I don’t know…it’s really, really hot.”

“And you want me to not punch someone else for you when you tell me how hot you think it is?” He challenged, an eyebrow raised. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Pete.”

“I can do that.” He chortled, closing the gap between them and kissing her, her cold hands pressing against his chest and sending chills down his spine. 

They made out in Peter’s bed for a while, the most scandalous part of it when she let him slip his hand up her shirt and cop a feel. They hadn’t gone very far when it came to intimacy, both nervous and unsure about what they were doing. Peter didn’t want to make y/n uncomfortable or feel pressured and y/n was afraid to do something wrong or be bad at it. What they both knew was that when they were ready, they wanted their first time to be with each other.

They both knew she couldn’t stay the entire night even though neither wanted her to go. 

“I’ll walk you back.”

“So you can be in even more trouble if you get caught?”

He shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want you walking to the other side of the castle by yourself.”

“You act like I’m going to run into you know who.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He glared. “This isn’t up for debate.”

She sighed but didn’t argue further, though neither made any effort to move. He flittered with the idea of just staying there until the hour before sunrise and then walking her back. They could be together for a few more hours and bask in the feeling of being in a bed together. It was something he didn’t know how badly he wanted it until he had it. Having her in his arms with a thick blanket over them, their body heat mingling together and their breath mixing in the small space between them was intoxicating. He never wanted it to end. It was like nothing else existed in the world except for them in the bed. There wasn’t charms homework to stress about or people to call y/n names that made him want to punch them or curious eyes watching them. It was just them.

As he stared at her, the realization came to him sort of like a song in the background getting louder and louder until eventually he took notice of him. He realized he was in love with her. It was a lot like putting change in a vending machine; eventually you’d have enough to get what you wanted. All the pennies and nickels and dimes had added up and he was in love with y/n.

He told her when he had walked her back to Hufflepuff and she had looked at him with those big eyes that made him melt into a puddle of mush and said it back, making him wonder if it was possible to die from being in love. Peter had all but floated back to Ravenclaw, a giant smile on his face and, for the first time, holding someone’s heart in his chest instead of his own. No, his own heart was with y/n and he had hers.

The over-bubble of his potion pulled him back to the present and he shook his head, trying to salvage his work that he had been distracted from. She wasn’t even in the room and she was distracting him. She was like a mind sickness that consumed him and kept him awake at night wondering if she was thinking of him like he was her and distracted him from his potions and spells. A girl made of sunshine had put a spell on him and he never wanted it to go away. 

Class ended and he slung his robe over his arm and headed for the great hall, searching for y/n as he made his way to the table, Win and Gwen already there. He sat beside them and greeted them, neck craning around the flocks of students to look for his girl who was usually already at the table.

Just as he was about to ask Gwen and Win if they had seen y/n, he felt someone sit right beside him and knew who it was. 

“Hey.” She greeted everyone, voice chipper and eyes bright. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He grinned, kissing her cheek and lacing their hands together. 

“Y/N, please tell me you can teach me how to do that braid.” Win gushed, eyes running up and down y/n’s hair.

Today y/n had braided her hair in a french braid, strands falling at her temples. She hadn’t done it in years but woke up feeling like it was going to be a good day so she did the braid and loved the way it looked. Peter had complimented it as they walked to her first class and she was sure she was going to do it everyday for the rest of the year. 

“Oh, for sure!” She nodded. “It’s easy.”

Win squealed just as Harry was sitting down, making him wince at the high pitched noise. “We could have a girls night! I’ll sneak you guys into Gryffindor and we can do our nails and stuff.”

They all agreed and as they talked, the rest of their ground made their way to the table. Peter noticed the small chill that ran through y/n and draped his robe around her shoulders. She always got cold in the great hall and he put his robe on her during meals. She gave him a grateful smile, tugging it closer and putting her attention back on Flash who was telling some story from their second year.

It was in Peter’s last class of that day that the loud rumble shook the entire castle like an earthquake. Everyone had gone silent and perked up, unsure of what was going on. Snape bolted to the doors only for Flitwick to burst them open, startling everyone further. 

“The school is under attack! Dumbledore wants all the children to be sent back to their dorms!”

Snape rushed out while the students followed, all heading in different directions in pure panic and lack of real guidance from adults.

Peter didn’t go to the Ravenclaw tower like the rest of the students in the blue ties. No, he headed for Hufflepuff. He had no idea where y/n was but he wasn’t going to be away from her when Hogwarts was under attack from who knows what. So many bad things could happen. Peter didn’t even want to think about what could happen. All he knew was that he had to get to her and he would do it no matter what. She just had to stay safe until he got there and then he would protect her. He knew how she felt about using magic to harm others but he didn’t know if that applied to those trying to harm her. Would she still raise her wand? He didn’t know. He couldn’t picture her raising her wand with intent to harm- it just wasn’t something he could see her doing. She saw the good in people and was someone who could talk anyone down from anything with just one look.

“I’m coming, y/n.” He breathed as he ran down the stairs, students fleeing past him and screams filling the air. It felt like he was in a nightmare or a horror movie that took place right in Hogwarts.

As he turned the corner after reaching the last step, he was horrified to see the main floor was in shambles. The east wall had been taken out completely, crushed brick and marble everywhere as death eaters flooded inside, fighting with professors and students, spells being cast from wands left and right.  

He saw a terrified first year struggling to hold their own against an enemy and knew that he had to help. He couldn’t just let them struggle. That’s not who he was. Aunt May had been so sure that he would be sorted into Gryffindor because of his lion's heart.

Wherever y/n was, he begged that she was safe for now. 

His wand out and ready, he threw an attack at the death eater that was challenging the young student. Peter battled strongly, surprised at the sheer force of his magic and the way his spells came out more powerful than the rest of the students around him. He didn’t know if it was because of how advanced he was or because of the pure adrenaline bolting through his veins or because of how he felt the need to protect every single person who couldn’t protect themselves. He’d always stood up for people before but this made him feel like he was personally responsible for the well-being of everyone. Like he was some kind of superhero. 

As he was battling alongside other sixth and seventh years as well as Hogwarts faculty, he was looking for a yellow tie and the shine of his girlfriend’s hair that he would know anywhere, even in the fight of his life. Every flash of yellow had him whipping his head in that direction, this proved near deadly a couple times, and every time it wasn’t her he felt his panic rise. It was like the music in the build up of a movie scene when the bad guy is just around the corner and the main character has no idea they’re there with an axe. With a clenched jaw and tight shoulders, he relentlessly fought his way toward the kitchens, looking for y/n as he went and trying to keep his mind together. He felt like he was being pulled in two different directions; his heart and his morals. He felt obligated to help everyone who needed it and not let anyone go without aid. It was who he was and who his Uncle Ben and Aunt May raised him to be; a good man who stopped when someone needed help. But his heart…his heart was begging with him- pleading with him to forget everyone else and find the one person that made it beat inside his chest. His heart was trying to pull him in its desired direction, his chest feeling like it was being tugged at.

At what felt like the end of the world, Peter was trying to find her. He was trudging through war and death, fighting like hell to try and get to her; to try and find her. He would fight for a hundred hours, cast a thousand spells, and travel a million miles to find her. She just needed to stay breathing until he got there. 

It was when he was just around the corner from the kitchens, so close to Hufflepuff his morals were starting to lose the battle to his heart, that he saw it.  He’d have missed it if it hadn’t been for the light reflecting off it from someone's cast spell.

On the floor was y/n’s heart shaped locket. 

Cold dread filled Peter and he could feel himself go pale. His stomach fell to his feet and his heart, the heart that had been shaking him by his shoulders and screaming at him since the damn battle had started, felt like a metal vice was squeezing on it.

She never took that golden chain off, often falling asleep with it on and only removing it to shower. It was her most important possession and something that kept her grounded and stable. She would toy with it when she was anxious, fingernail breaking open the clasp only for her to snap it right shut. The sound of it opening and closing was something that Peter had gotten used to but didn’t hear it as much as he did when they had first started dating. 

The worst case scenario ran through his head and he briefly wondered who he had helped along the way that cost him y/n. Who did he trade her for? Of the dozen or so people he had helped on his way across the castle, who had been the one that he saved while the light faded from his sunshine? He would have been able to protect her and save her but he sacrificed her for someone else.

He rushed over to it, bumping into someone but paying no attention to them as he leaned down to scrape it up. The once pristine gold now had dents and nicks, the luster dimmed, and the clasp broken. Something he hadn’t seen before was the dried blood on the chain. It nearly made him drop to his knees, his body feeling as heavy as the necklace that was in his hand.

Realistically, he knew that just because she lost her necklace didn’t mean she was dead and he was desperately trying to cling to that. But something had happened to her that made her lose her locket and something had prevented her from retrieving it. The blood on the chain had to be from her. There wasn’t blood on the floor where the locket had been meaning the blood had to have already been on it when it fell off of her. If she wasn’t…dead then she was at the very least injured and that was enough to have him seething. Even if he found her alive he would still be out for blood, determined to make them spill ten times the amount of blood that they had made y/n spill. He was going to seek justice- no, revenge on everyone that had sent their wand her way. 

Then Peter turned, ready to do just that, and the air was stolen from his lungs. 

Coming out of the Hufflepuff corridor with others behind her was y/n.

And she was magnificent.

Her hair bounced from the force of the cast of her wand and she seemed to glow gold from the light of the sun coming through the nearby window as she fought without any trace of fear, body moving with expertise and without hesitance as if Athena herself lived within her. There was a deep cut across her collarbone that was revealed by the lack of tie and partially unbuttoned linen button up and a scrape above her eyebrow. Her left sleeve was rolled up haphazardly, like she had rolled them both up seconds before her fight began but one had fallen from combat. She was a warrior and a goddess and his y/n all at the same time. And she was alive.

Seeing her alive actually did bring him to his knees, his heart having gone through too much throughout the day to support him through another whirlwind of emotion that hit him like a train. She was alive and breathing and she was arguably holding her own. It made his shoulders sag back, weak at seeing her become a goddess. He had been picturing her hiding in a closet the entire time like a small puppy; scared and wishing for him to come. Instead she was fighting back with a strength he didn’t know she had in her. She held her wand with the most confidence he had ever seen her possess, her spells stronger than his had been. She spoke clearly and boldly with no tremor or trace of anxiety in her tone. She was leading the charge in her house. How he had underestimated her placement as a Hufflepuff, a people known to be unafraid of toil. How he had underestimated her. 

Peter felt like he was watching her in slow motion and then she was looking in his direction, doing a double take at seeing him there. She sent out a forceful spell at her foe before rushing over to him and dropping down in front of him, hands cupping face and lips moving. She looked concerned, eyebrows knitted together and eyes clouded with worry. It was then that he realized she was talking to him, asking him if he was okay.

“You’re alive.” He gasped before crushing her against his chest, hands gripping her back tight and never wanting to let go. “God, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“I know.” She breathed, fingers threading through his locks at the back of his head. “I was too. I wanted to try and find you but…”

“I know.”

Their reunion was cut short by a deatheater seeing their vulnerability and raising his wand toward them. Peter’s eyes went wide, thinking of their position. Y/N’s body was directly in front of his. She would take the hit if he didn’t make a drastic move.

But his girl- his sweet, beautiful, kind, gentle Hufflepuff surprised him again. She jumped up, her arm raised. “Expelliarmus!” She lashed and Peter watched as the enemy was disarmed. She took it a step further and cast a sectumsempra spell, harming him and causing him to turn and run. It would have been comical to see someone running away from y/n in fear if he hadn’t been so stunned and full of awe and maybe even a little turned on by the tenacity she was exuding.

Once Peter got over his shock, he was up and fighting alongside her, having her back and her having his. They defended the part of the school they could before finally it was over and what surviving enemies that still lingered realized they were losing and surrendered or escaped. 

The battle-worn students and school faculty were gathered in the great hall where wounded were being taken care of and loved ones reunited. It was a sea of tears, both of relief and grief. They met up with their friends who were all well and victorious, happy to see the couple together and just as victorious. Hugs went around as well as a few tears from Win who had been worried about the two more than anyone.

Peter and y/n walked holding hands, both physically beaten but feeling alive as ever. Y/N leaned into his side as they sat on the rows of opened up bleachers. He couldn’t stop looking at her, seeing that moment when she had emerged from the hallway bathed in golden sunlight and war over and over again in his head. He saw her in a different light. He had always known she was the sun of life; keeping him warm and putting the kick in his step. But he didn’t realize until then just how rare she was now that he was seeing the other side of the sun that didn’t usually face him. She was the all smiles, spoke to everyone like they mattered more than the world, made friendship bracelets for people, purposely picked out the ugliest looking cookie on the tray just so it would get picked kind of soul. But she was also the defend her house to the death, cast out sectumsempra spells, lead the charge of the battle kind of soul. Those kinds of people who were those two sides of the same coin were rare. Once in a blue moon kind of rare. His sun was a blue moon and the irony was not lost on him.

“What?” She asked, eyeing the way he was looking at her. 

“The entire time I was trying to get to you. You know, I was convinced that you were hiding in a closet somewhere? Then I get there and you’re…you’re not just fighting but you’re leading it. I had no idea you had that in you.” He mused, eyes dancing with pride. 

She beamed. “I didn’t either. It just kind of happened. I didn’t even think, I guess. They tried to get in and I just started fighting.”

The memory of her locket hit him and he fished it out from his pocket. “I found this on the floor. I thought something bad happened to you when I saw it there. Had me worried for a second.” That was an understatement. But she didn’t need to know about the true heartbreak he had felt for the thirty seconds he thought the sun had set permanently.

Her face fell into relief at seeing her locket in his open palm. “Oh my god. I thought it was gone forever. Some tried to put a levicorpus spell on me but it got my necklace instead. I tried to find it but there was so much going on.”

Brushing her hair to the side, Peter wrapped the necklace around her neck and clasped it on, letting it rest on her chest where it belonged.

The Sun is a Blue Moon

A/N: So this started out as a headcanon thread that was hella long until I eventually decided to just write the thing. This may be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Let me know what you guys think. Oh, and yes there will be a part 2 ;)

Summary: A Hogwarts AU where Peter Parker falls in love with a Hufflepuff and it’s just tooth rotting fluff the whole time really.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: social anxiety 

“Just breathe.” y/n exhaled, staring at herself in the mirror. 

It was her first day of sixth year at Hogwarts and she was a tangled knot of anxiety and nerves. Part of her still couldn’t believe she was actually there once again. It seemed like just yesterday someone was knocking at her door and telling her parents that she was a witch and was accepted to Hogwart, a school for witchcraft and wizardry. It had been a bumpy ride at the beginning, her parents not fully believing it for quite some time but eventually couldn’t deny the obvious. It was true and they all knew it. Y/N had always been different her entire life, with strange things happening around her that always made people stare at her. It was what made her such an anxious child and what made her social anxiety bloom into what it was. 

Smoothing down her robe and adjusting her yellow tie, she left the restroom and headed for her first class, keeping close to the walls and head down and continuing on with the same routine she’d had for the last several years. Sometimes she wished she could blend in with the walls and go unseen.

Divination was her first class and she found a seat further toward the back with no one in the companion seat and she headed right for it, hoping that that companion seat would stay empty. It had happened a couple times before and she hoped that she would get lucky in her second to last year and would have at least one class where she didn’t have to worry about talking to anyone. 

It wasn’t that y/n couldn’t speak, she could, really, but she just didn’t want to. She had a hard time with attention. Public speaking? All eyes on her? Saying something that would make people think she was a freak? Taking too long in line at the grocery store? Wearing something that would make her stand out? All a huge hell no with a capital H. Some nights she would hear girls laughing in the Hufflepuff commons and wish she could be part of that but she just didn’t know how. She was sure comradely was something she’d never attain.

As she was getting settled in her seat, the chair beside her that she had been vying for to stay vacant was pulled out with a scrape against the floor and she looked to see a girl with a red tie and corkscrew black hair that fell just past her shoulders smiling at her with perfect teeth. She wore large round glasses and her fingers were covered in rings with different gemstones in them. She looked like she listened to Stevie Nicks and drank black coffee and stared up at the stars for guidance. 

“Hi! I’m Winifred but everyone calls me Win!” She chipped as she sat down, setting her books onto the table with a small thud. The scrape of her chair made y/n cringe internally at how loud it was and the books had really made her worry. She glanced around the room to make sure no one was staring and relaxed a little when she found no one was. 

“I’m y/n.” she stated with a small nod, looking back down to her book that she was opening to the page listed on the chalkboard.

“Oh my god that’s, like, the cutest necklace I’ve ever seen! Did you get it in Hogsmeade?” Win asked, eyes bright. 

Swallowing, y/n wet her lips as her hand wrapped around the golden heart shaped locket she wore everyday for the last six years. “No. It was a gift from my dad. I don’t know where he got it.”

“It’s way cute.”

“Thank you.”

The entire class, Win talked and talked, going on and on about anything. She had talked about how her father was in the ministry of magic but her mom was her best friend. She talked about how hard sixth year was going to be but how excited she was to finally be a sixth year. Y/N was silent through most of it, only giving small nods and little hums. She appreciated that Win was more than happy to provide the conversation. Her favorite kinds of people were the ones who monopolized the conversation and Win was definitely one of those people.

“You should eat lunch with me and my friends!” She gasped as they were packing up for the next class of the day. “We’re all in different houses but we don’t have a Hufflepuff yet! Do you know Gwen Stacy?”

“Oh uh I know of her but I don’t really know her.” Y/N murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Well, she’s awesome and everyone will love you! We sit at the end of the Ravenclaw table. See you then y/n!”

Y/N was left blinking as Win floated out the door. She had no idea how she got roped into that and she was terrified but bubbling with excitement at the same time. She had no idea how long they would let a girl who would sometimes go days without uttering a single word sit with them in their group but she would enjoy it, if just for the one day. She usually ate lunch in the library so this would be different.

Half convinced that it was all a joke by the time lunch came around, she was ready to see no such group at the end of the Ravenclaw table, but there were several students with different colored ties right where Win had said there would be. It was real and she couldn’t back out now.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, y/n headed for the end of the table and felt a twinge when she saw that there was an empty spot next to Win.

“Y/N! Hey, girl! Come here!” Win called, eyes excited and a half eaten cookie in her hand. 

It felt easy to sit next to Win, but she struggled to keep a small smile as everyone in the group stared at her as she sat down. There was one boy in particular who she couldn’t even glance at because she knew she would be sporting red ears if she did. 

He sat directly opposite her and was a Ravenclaw, the blue tie half open and his robe falling off one shoulder. His mahogany toned hair was messy and floppy, like his hands were constantly in it but she liked the way it looked. She wanted to study his face and find the freckles she hadn’t seen in her glance at him and really find the accurate shade of his eyes- she had a thing for eye colors and finding their perfect shade. He was really beautiful and she wondered how she had gone six years without ever having seen him before. There was no way she would have forgotten him if she had. 

Win introduced y/n and explained that they had divination together. While Win chattered on, y/n’s hand wrapped around her locket, thumbnail toying with the clasp that kept it closed.

“Y/N, this is Gwen Stacy, Flash, Harry Osborn, MJ Watson, and Peter Parker.”

She waved, avoiding Peter’s stare before finally looking at him. True to her thoughts and her ears got hot and her stomach filled with butterflies. She worried if she opened her mouth they would fly out and tell Peter that she liked him so she merely waved and looked back to Win.

True to who she was, y/n stayed quiet most of lunch, nodding at times appropriate and trying to keep a smile on her face. She wanted to try and make friends and this was the best opportunity she had ever had so she was going to try and not completely fuck it up. She was almost seventeen years old and needed to try and overcome some of her shyness and social anxiety.

But she did take the risk a few times and looked over at Peter, taking in his square round glasses and the ink stains on his fingertips. How the sleeves of his wrinkled white button up were cuffed up. She had to put in effort to not pass out when he had taken off his robe and revealed his veiny forearms and rolled up sleeves. She could see the faintest bit of stubble on his chin that he must have missed when shaving. She took in the way he looked at everyone in the group, with a lax smile and warm eyes. She had decided they were the same color of the hazelnuts that grew on the tree in her parents front lawn.

It was on the third day of sixth year that y/n realized that Peter was in her astronomy class. He sat on the other side of the room with MJ. She didn’t think he noticed and she didn’t want to walk up to him randomly so she decided to wait and see if he noticed and if he cared at all. Even though she spent most of the class staring at his side profile whenever she knew he wouldn’t catch her. 

Two weeks later and y/n was walking into astronomy and Peter Parker was sitting in the seat next to hers where Romilda Vane had been sitting the last week. She stared at his back, her brain short circuiting. Maybe had wanted to talk before class started, she usually got in early since astronomy was after sunset and after dinner. She had no idea he even knew they had the same class together. They had just been sitting together at the same table not even an hour ago. He had smiled and waved at her like he did everyday. Why was he in the seat beside hers?

She walked up to her seat and as soon as she pulled her chair out, Peter looked up at her with that beaming smile that made her feel like a little bit of the sun had found its way into Peter Parker.

“Hi.” He greeted.

She bit her lip, trying desperately to find her voice that was so often lost at sea.

Peter seemed to sense your shyness. “Romilda asked to switch so she could be closer to the professor so she could hear better.” He explained. 

She nodded, sitting down and looking down with a wide grin. She knew that Romilda could hear just fine because this was the second time they were partnered in a class and she also preferred to sit toward the back of the room. 

Y/N felt like she was going to start floating at any minute because Peter, the boy she would daydream about and draw hearts around his name in her notebooks, had wanted to sit next to her and was going to be her astronomy partner for the rest of the year. Three nights a week they would spend an entire class together, and not just any class but her favorite class. She loved the night sky and the stars and she got to share that with Peter for an entire school year. 

Though she never spoke, Win’s group kept welcoming y/n to eat with them and she had even been invited to sit with them at the first quidditch game of the year. She bundled up in her Hufflepuff scarf and thickest coat but she had forgotten her gloves and her fingers were freezing shortly into the game and she blew into her hands, trying to keep them somewhat warm.

Peter was sitting directly beside her and nudged her, making her look at him in question. Wordlessly, he offered her a pair of gloves, an eyebrow raised. “I won’t need them.”

Opening her mouth to speak, she thought better and closed it before taking the knitted gloves hesitantly at first, but then mouthing a thank you with a soft smile and slipped them on. Peter smiled back at her and she tried not to notice that his fingertips were red with the cold.

The first time y/n finally spoke to Peter was in astronomy several days after they started sitting together. They were supposed to map out a specific constellation and since Peter was so smart and y/n really good at astronomy, they finished early and were sitting together by a large oak tree, y/n with her arms around her drawn up knees and Peter leaning against the trunk of the tree.

He was looking up at the sky and she kept looking at him, bathed in moonlight, fingers weaving in and out of the grass. She was starting to trust him like she’d only trusted a few people in her life. He made her feel seen and for some reason, she didn’t want to run away from it. Her entire life she had been running out of the spotlight and trying to hide in the shadows but Peter saw her and she didn’t want to hide in the shadows. At first, he made her more anxious than anyone else in the group because she liked him but now she didn’t feel anxious around him, instead she just felt safe. He didn’t ask her why she didn’t really talk or what was wrong with her and he didn’t push her to talk, either. He just took her as she was.

“What’s your favorite constellation?” She asked, eyes on the grass that she was still running her fingers through. 

Peter whipped his head down to her, lips parting and shock clouding his face. It was the first time he was hearing her speak ever. The words fell like bubbles from her rosy lips, each word careful and delicate, her voice a little rougher than he had imagined- but he still loved it just as much. He had been dying to find a way to get her to speak to him but didn’t want to push her because he knew she was just shy and probably had some kind of anxiety so he was fine with waiting until she was ready to speak. Even if she didn’t talk to him, he just wanted to be around her. Hufflepuffs always had good vibes but y/n had a warmth about her.

It was no secret within the rest of the group that he had a big giant crush on y/n, something Flash loved to tease him about. In fact, Peter had almost gotten into a physical fight with Flash when he first started teasing him about liking y/n because he thought he was making fun of him for liking her. Sure, she was quiet and didn’t really talk but he didn’t see anything wrong with that. Some people were so worried about being able to say what they wanted to say that they didn’t hear what others had to say. Y/N heard everything people needed to say, her twinkling eyes focused solely on whoever was speaking and her focus on what they were saying. She cared about what people had to say and truly listened. He had seen her kindness when he had been walking back to the Ravenclaw tower and watched her pick up a small caterpillar and find a nice home for it in the bushes, being gentle with it and patient. Maybe she didn’t speak very much but her actions spoke loud enough for him to get to know her. He always thought Hufflepuff’s were the purest of heart of all the houses.

Adjusting his glasses, he peered his head down to try and catch her eye so she would look at him. It worked and their eyes met. “It’s Perseus.”

Y/N rested her chin on her knees and nodded, one hand coming to tinker with the locket that rested below the hollow of her throat. “It’s a good one. I think mine’s Andromeda.”

“It’s a good one.” He retorted, making her chuckle. The silence took over and Peter couldn’t help but smile at her before looking at the sky again. 

“Have you seen Snape’s new haircut?”

He looked back down at her, thrilled she said something else. 

“Yeah.” He chortled. “Went a bit too short this time.”

“He’s giving Lord Farquad.”

The laugh that boomed out of Peter made y/n jump at first but then she remembered no one was around and she relaxed again, smiling wide because she had made Peter Parker laugh. It was deep and boisterous and she would probably never forget it.

“I wish everyone else knew how funny you are.” Peter mused, the remnants of his laughter still in his voice. “But I’m honored that I get to know.”

“Technically, you don't. I only said one funny thing. Maybe that’s all I’ve got.”

“Nah I know that you’re funny. Just a feeling.”

“Whatever you say, Parker.” She shrugged.

“Can I ask what made you finally talk to me?” 

Y/N thought for a moment before wetting her lips. “I guess I just really, like, trust you now. I don’t know. I’ve never felt safe around anyone before you. I feel like I could say anything to you and you wouldn’t judge me for it or think I’m weird, no matter what it is.”

“I like you too much to think you’re weird.” He blurted, before his eyes went wide and he cleared his throat, hoping she wouldn’t think too much into it.

But Peter had never been lucky and bit back a groan at seeing her eyes grow brighter and mouth fall open. “You like me?”

He couldn’t deny it, especially not to her. Not with the way she was looking at him with hopeful eyes and red cheeks and those stupid yellow finger-less gloves she wore that he always made him want to groan because it made her hands look ridiculously cute and small. Especially not under the stars when there was no one around and it was just them, the constellations ready to harbor their secrets.

“I have since I met you.” He bit his bottom lip, knowing his heart might be completely crushed in the next two seconds. “Do you…like me?” 

Y/N wasn’t afraid to open her mouth now because she could let the butterflies out. “Yeah. You make me feel safe, Peter.”

The moment was broken when they heard the call for the students to return and they stared at each other for a moment before getting up and gathering their papers that were off to the side. As they started walking back, Peter slipped his hand into hers and she looked up at him with a smile and squeezed his hand that was laced with hers. 

Peter walked her as far as he could go which was the same corridor as the kitchens. She stopped and turned to face him before pushing up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. It made his heart thump in his chest and he barely processed when she pulled her hand from his and left, heading through the corridor and down the hall. His heart felt like it might burst in his chest. 

Y/N was feeling the same, even stopping when she knew she was out of sight of Peter to lean against the wall and just stand there with a love drunk smile, Peter taking over her head and her heart. She knew they had a lot of talk about like were they boyfriend and girlfriend now? Was she allowed to hold his hand whenever she wanted? But for that moment she just wanted to hold onto the glow coming from her heart over the fact that Peter Parker liked her and he had held her hand and she had kissed his cheek. She had spoken to him and now he was her best friend and she was completely in love with him.

To her surprise, the next morning when she left the corridor to go to her first class, Peter was leaning against a wall, blue tie loose and hair messy like she loved. He caught her eye and smiled at her, letting her make her way to him.

“Can I walk you to your class?” He asked and she couldn’t help but beam and nodded, reaching up to fix his tie. “You have Mcgonagall first and you know she’ll get you for your tie.”

When it was straightened out, she slipped her hand into his. She knew a few people might look at them holding hands, but she had also laid in bed the night before preparing for a few looks if they held hands or showed any small displays of affection. It wouldn’t last forever and that was the only thing keeping her from having an anxiety attack: it was just a few people and it would only be for a little while. She could get through it.

Peter walked her all the way to Divination and parted from her with a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Meet me in the library at lunch?”

“Kay.” She agreed, knowing she would meet him in the boys bathroom if he asked. 

Her classes passed at the pace of a snail. All she could think about was meeting Peter in the library. She knew they would probably talk about…them and she was beyond anxious but in a good way. She knew they would leave that library as boyfriend and girlfriend and if she was lucky, she would have had her first kiss because she was going to kiss him. She didn’t know how or when but she would kiss him if he didn’t kiss her first. It was nerve wracking to think about but she was going to try and be a little bit more bold when it came to Peter and their relationship, whatever that may be. 

When lunch rolled around, y/n headed for the library, small chips in her white nail polish from picking at it due to nerves. She looked around, trying to find Peter and shoulders falling into repose when she saw him in an aisle, robes off and hands toying with an open book.

She made her way over and he didn’t hear her coming until she was a couple feet from him. The smile he gave her made her melt.

“Hi.” She greeted. 

“Hi.” 

He slipped his hand into hers and she pulled him with her toward the cushioned window sill, the glass cold on her back. 

“Do you want some jellybeans?” He asked, pulling a baggy of jellybeans out of his pocket. It made her giggle in amusement that he just had a bag of jellybeans in his pocket at random but she nodded, taking the portion he poured into her hand and starting to pop them into her mouth, examining the handful.

“Wait? Are these the every flavor beans?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, putting several into his mouth. “But I made sure there weren’t any gross ones for you.”

“How?”

“Got a friend who came up with a way to find out what ones were the gross ones and he showed me how this morning.”

Her mouth was parted as she looked back down the handful of sweets, beyond touched that he had sorted through the jelly beans to pick out the gross ones just in case she wanted some of them.

Looking back to him, she splayed her hand on his cheek as he swallowed and leaned in. His breath hitched in his throat and she could smell the sugar on his breath before their lips even touched. She hesitated, giving him a second to stop her if he wanted as well as give her a second of doubt before that mental “fuck it” crossed her mind and she kissed him. 

It was soft and chaste, the small sound of their lips filling the silence around them. 

With buzzing lips, she pulled away just enough to break the kiss but brushed their noses together, Peter’s hand finding her neck, his thumb grazing her jaw. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He breathed, giving the corner of her mouth a peck. 

“What’s in it for me?” She mused, sarcasm lacing her tone. 

Peter picked up on it and smile softly, brushing hair hair behind her ear and pulling back a little bit. “Safe jelly beans for one. There’s also unlimited free kisses, I’ll help you with all of your homework, I have a very impressive collection of books that you’re free to at anytime.”

“Well how can I turn down the books?”

The laugh that slipped out of him made her kiss him again. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of kissing him.

Peter and y/n were inseparable after that. Where she went, Peter was right behind her, that lovesick smile on his face because let’s face it he was head over heels for her. He walked her to all her classes and they sat together at meal time, his arm around her waist or her leaning against his chest, his arm around her still. He wore her spare yellow and black striped scrunchie on his wrist pretty much always. When she forgot her robe, which was often, she wore his. He picked up the habit of speaking for her when she really, really didn’t want to. Like when she had a question in class but could barely think about raising her hand to ask and have everyone look at her, her voice being the only sound in the room. So when she had a question she would write it down and nudge Peter. He would read it and ask the question for her. Punch drunk love had nothing on Peter. He was well and truly gone for the Hufflepuff girl that most people didn’t notice. And while she barely said a word to anyone that wasn’t Win or Peter, she was herself when it was just her and Peter. She had a strong sense of humor and would make the most out of pocket, dry comments that always had him in stitches. She was affectionate with him, kissing the corner of his jaw often and calling him baby. He was special enough to be allowed to really see her and it was a gift he cherished. 

She did her little things for him too like keeping wipes on her for his ink stained fingers and always reminding him of where his glasses were when he couldn’t find them; they had been on his head one time and she could only put them back in place with a small smile and kiss the tip of his nose. She had put his picture in the empty side of her locket, the other side holding a picture of her mother and father. The day she had shown Peter he knew he would love her forever.

 She was there to clean his wounds when Peter punched a kid named Draco for calling another girl Mudblood, thus starting a fight. With a bloody rag in her hand that had just cleaned his bleeding cheekbone, she confessed to him that she was a full muggle-born with no magic in her family tree. He had kissed her and told her that he didn’t care if she was related to he who shall not be named; as long as she stayed who she was he would love her no matter what. She was the sunlight in his life to which she reminded him he was the moonlight in hers.

Y/N was slowly starting to come out of her shell through the school year. It started mostly with the group in small comments that she could add in. Everyone always simmered down to be able to hear her speak when she did, and Peter could always see how big of a deal it was for her. He knew all about her social anxiety and would squeeze her hand, letting her know she could do it and that he was right there if she needed him.

In their sixth year, Peter and y/n couldn’t have been happier. That was before all hell broke loose in Hogwarts.

My first mutual! Can i request Peter walking in on you playing guitar and singing and he didnt know you could sing???? And he’s floored???? Thanks!! 🥺 - justnotforbread🕸🍞

A/N: thank you for this request I loved every second of writing this! Hope you like it!

Beautiful Stranger

Y/N was someone who was naturally very artistic and creative. Classes would be spent by drawing little doodles in her notebook or on whatever piece of paper was on her desk at the time. Teachers would often discourage it, knowing it meant that she hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She took art as her elective several times over even though she had been encouraged by school counselors to branch out and try other things. She always customized whatever she could to her liking, especially the things she wore on her body. Her room had been a wall of posters and art she made and photos of things she liked and people she looked up to.

She had a notebook full of little thoughts she had and poems of all kinds. There were some poems about her parents and some about whatever boy she was crushing on at the time and some about how hard life was. It wasn’t until her later teen years that she started writing songs.

They were purely for her and used as her own creative outlet as well as a form of therapy. The navy blue notebook that she kept these songs in was buried in her backpack and hidden under the mattress, never wanting her parents to find it.

It wasn’t until she was nineteen and moved out that she picked up her first guitar at a small thrift store. It was older and had more than likely seen quite a few hands but she was drawn to it. Her little song writing hobby could become a song making hobby and she could do something with the dozens of songs she had written over the years.

Learning how to play had been harder than she thought it would be but she persisted, spending nights playing the same three chords over and over again until she had them down to a muscle memory. Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water had been the first song she learned and was able to play without messing up once and that fueled her to persist with the goal of being able to craft her own song.

Months later and she was sitting on her bed, making her own music and writing down the chords as she went so she wouldn’t forget. More songs came after that and she kept them in the same navy blue notebook she’d had for years that was specifically reserved for songs lyrics, and now the music to go along with those lyrics.

Singing was something she enjoyed as well. She knew she could hold a tune but she didn’t think she was the best singer or anything, and it didn’t matter. She sang for herself so to her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t amazing. It wasn’t like American Idol was in her future dreams. So she never sang in front of anyone except her childhood cat who happened to be in the room when she was singing.

There had been a couple years that she went into a lull and didn’t write as many songs as she once had, especially not after her guitar was stolen when her apartment was broken into while she was at school one day.

Then she met Peter Parker.

Peter with those eyes that reminded her of fall leaves and warm sweaters and baked goods and his hugs that made her feel like she was stepping out into the sunlight and the way he called her sweetheart in the middle of the night when he was getting into bed after patrol and she was half awake and welcoming him into their bed. Peter with his desperate need to do good and a hero complex that was so strong it put the weight of the world on his shoulders. Peter who kissed the tip of her nose when it was red from the northern cold and woke up early before her to make her coffee for her so that it would be ready when she woke up and always let her have the last Oreo.

Peter Parker had y/n writing songs again. They ranged from the way he made her wanna crack her chest open for him and give him her heart and how he was like a sun drop that slipped from the sun itself to light up her world and how his pleasurable touch made her wonder if that was what dying felt like. Some got specific like the one titled His Jacket about the night they went out and she didn’t bring a jacket but got cold and he gave her his green one. It had been far too big on her and the sleeves went past her hands but it was so warm and smelled like him. It made her feel oddly safe even though he was right next to her and she hadn’t wanted to take it off. When he wasn’t home she would sometimes wear it and just feel so warm and safe. Some weren’t as specific and more about their relationship in a broad sense, going on about how they would sometimes just look at one another and know what the other was feeling. Some of the songs were proper songs with three verses and three choruses and some were quite short with just a short verse and a chorus and a repeat of the chorus once more before ending.

It was late February when y/n got her tax refund and she eagerly made her way to the pawn shop down the street after work, buying a used acoustic before heading home to the empty apartment. Peter had plans to go on patrol right after his work day was done due to a serial rapist who had started upstate and in the last few days made his way down to the city. It had kept Peter up at night. She was worried about him but trusted Spider-Man to make sure Peter Parker came home to her every night.

As soon as she was home she was grabbing her notebook and fishing a new pick out of the pack she had just bought and made a workspace out of the living room floor, notebook out and open.

The feeling of the strings on her fingertips was so familiar but still a little out of place. It was like visiting somewhere that you once frequented but hadn’t been there in years so it felt different yet the same all at once.

Forming the song only took a couple hours or so before she was running through her first play through. It took a few more run-through's before she felt comfortable with the order of the chords.

After a short break to get a drink and make dinner, she was sitting back down and putting the acoustic back in her lap, pick between her fingers. She knew it was getting late but she felt like she was just getting started and she knew Peter wouldn’t be home for a while longer.

Peter landed gently on the fire escape, not wanting to wake y/n if she was already asleep. It wasn’t very late but she was known to have early nights and be out by ten so on nights that he didn’t know if she was asleep already he was extra quiet.

Slipping in through the unlocked bedroom window, he found their room empty but he had already heard her moving around in their living room when he started opening the window. Sliding past the curtain, he was in the bedroom and closed and locked the window behind him before taking off his mask.

He had had an early night, catching the upstate rapist much earlier in his shift. He had been trying to catch the guy for the last week and finally got him before he could ruin another woman's life. He felt relief in knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed that night wondering if the serial rapist was out there and hurting someone. Spider-Man had made New York a safer place for at least tonight and that would grant Peter a good night's sleep- if just for tonight.

As Peter was heading to leave the room, he heard the strum of a guitar and stopped, listening and wondering why he was hearing a guitar. He only counted one heartbeat so it wasn’t someone else playing. It had to be y/n.

The strum turned into a song and he took the remaining steps to be able to see out into the living room past the corner. Y/N was sitting on the floor with an acoustic guitar in her lap, looking down at it and fingers moving nimbly across the strings.

Leaning against the door frame, Peter watched and wondered why she had never told him she knew how to play. How had they been together for an entire year and he didn’t know this about her? The guitar had to be new because she didn’t have one before. He had personally moved most of her stuff when they were moving in.

Peter’s breath fell from his lungs when she started to sing.

“I grab your hand and then we run to the car, singin’ in the street and playing air guitar. Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar and I wonder if it goes too far to say I’ve never recognized a purer face. You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place. Used to think that lovin’ meant a painful chase but you’re right here now and I think you’ll stay.” She sang.

He was just in awe; he was wonderstruck. Her voice was so soft and so beautiful and steady and he hated that he hadn’t been graced by it for the last year. Then there was the matter of the lyrical content that made his heart feel like it might turn into goo. It was absolutely her own original song that was about them because a couple months ago they had been at one of y/n’s friends’ parties and they were leaving when a song that they both loved came on. The music was so loud they could still hear it from outside and had jammed out to it together, air guitar having been part of that. It was one of his favorite moments in time with her and now one of his fondest memories.

He didn’t understand why she was working her current nine to five job when she had this talent.

He tried not to be a little hurt that he didn’t know anything about this but he also knew that he had hidden Spider-Man from her for the first six months. He couldn’t exactly judge her.

“Oh we’re dacin’ in my livin’ room and up come my fists and I say I’m only playing but the truth is this: I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss. And I’m terrified but the truth is this: I said beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I know that beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong. And I hope, beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe for me to fall.”

Peter’s eyes pricked with tears as he leaned against the door frame, throat tight and wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of her and kiss her so hard that it would be able to make her feel what he was feeling which was awe, astonishment, adoration to name a few. He was also incredibly overwhelmed by how beautiful she was; sitting there in that black NYU hoodie that he knew she’d gotten on her first day with a strand of her hair falling in her face from the bun that was piled on her head and her face clear of any makeup and singing about she felt safe enough to fall because she knew he would catch her. He would always catch her. At the end of the day his most important job was protecting her. Spider-Man meant nothing if he couldn’t keep y/n safe. The final strum made him wipe at his glassy eyes and he eyed the blue notebook that was open in front of her. He had seen it a couple times but assumed it was something to do with work like a planner or a calendar. It apparently harbored every feeling she had ever felt about him, about them.

Not wanting to startle her, he breathed her name.

Still, she jumped and her head whipped in his direction. “Jesus.” She gasped. “What the fuck are you doing home so early?”

“Finished early tonight. Thought I might come home and try to see you before you went to sleep.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before nodding. “How long have you been standing there?”

He smiled fondly. “Long enough to hear the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face behind her guitar in her lap.

Stalking forward, Peter sat across from her. “Why didn’t you tell me about…any of this?”

She looked up, ears red with embarrassment and lips pursed. “I’ve never shared it with anyone.” She shrugged. “Not even my parents. It’s something I do for me and when I met you…I was more inspired than I ever have been in my life. I may not be the best singer or songwriter but it’s so therapeutic.”

Cupping her face, he brushed the strand of hair away with his thumb. “I feel like I should have paid admission to see that that’s how beautiful your voice is. And that song? You wrote that?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Wrote it the morning after Anna’s party. You were still sleeping and I just…you make me feel so safe, Pete.”

“Well, I am Spider-Man.” he chuckled.

“That’s not it. I know you’re not gonna break my heart. I just know it. I don’t know how but I do. You have no idea how many songs I’ve written about us and-and about you. Last year this thing wasn’t even halfway filled and now it’s only got a few blank pages left.”

He closed the gap and kissed her hard in a mismatch of lips and the need to show her how much he loved her in a way he could. He didn’t know how to make a song but he wanted to so badly in that moment just so she could truly understand how he felt about her because what he just heard made him know truly how she felt about him.

“Play it again.” He breathed against her lips.

“I’ll play it as many times as you want.”

HIII!! I saw that you requests are open so here is mine :D What if reader got Peter flowers? <333

A/N: I love this! lets pretend I posted this yesterday on Valentine's day lol

Love, Sunshine, and Beauty

Peter was a really kind and thoughtful boyfriend. He always did like things for y/n like leaving little notes for her to find while he was on patrol and she had just gotten home from work. One time he left a small flower that he must have picked from the bush outside on the soap holder in the shower. He was always doing things to make her smile and know that he thought about her and wanted to make her smile, even if he wasn't there to see it. Being Spider-Man made him miss out on some things that he wished he could be there for like the birthday party she had last year that her best friend threw her at a bar in Brooklyn. It being at night, Peter wasn't able to make it and she understood but it bothered him a lot that he wasn't there for his girlfriends birthday party. That was when the little things had started and y/n adored them more than Peter knew. So when Valentine's day came around, she realized that this was her chance to do something sweet for Peter like he often did for her.

She'd never bought flowers before, especially not for a man so she wasn't sure what to get. She wandered around the grocery store looking at the tons of different arrangements they had but none of them stood out to her until she came across a bouquet of sunflowers, red roses, and daisies. They all meant something that was so true to Peter. It was perfect.

Their shared apartment was empty when she got home and she knew Peter was most likely at the lab still. They had early dinner plans for Valentine's day so he would be home shortly.

After putting the bouquet in a vase with some water, she left it on the counter that faced the front door with a card that she propped up to stand and a small box of chocolates before getting in the shower.

Peter closed the front door behind him, hearing the shower and knowing y/n was in it. They had dinner plans shortly and he couldn't wait to take her to the restaurant. It was where they had their first date two years ago and also the same place she had told him she loved him for the first time just a few months later.

He looked up and stopped in his tracks.

On the kitchen counter was a vase with different flowers. At first, he immediately thought that someone else had given them to her before he had a chance to give her the roses he had in had in his hand, but then he saw the propped card with his name on it.

He dropped his backpack on the empty counter space and picked up the card and opened it.

Peter, Happy Valentines day, my love. I know men don't usually receive flowers, even on v-day but I wanted to give you back some of the beauty you give to me every day. The roses are for how much I love you, the sunflowers are for the sunshine you bring into my life, and the daisies are for the beauty that is you. I love you endlessly.

                                                                  -love, y/n

Peter smiled wide and kissed the card before setting it down and taking in the flowers, seeing her meaning in each type. He knew how lucky he was to be love by her and he felt her love with the gesture and with the beautiful flowers. He was saddened that he wouldn't be able to keep them forever. Maybe he could have one of each pressed and framed. He would have to look into that before they died.

The sound of the shower stopping had him moving and he was coming into the bedroom at the same time y/n was getting out with a towel around her.

"Hey, babe." She beamed. "Happy Valentine's."

He pulled the bouquet of roses out from behind his back, his face partially hidden by them and a smile a mile wide pulling his at his lips.

"Peter." She cooed, taking them. "These are gorgeous."

"Happy Valentine's day, baby."

"Did you see yours?" She asked hopefully.

"No one's ever gotten me flowers before and I love them." He kissed her cheek, thinking back to the arrangement that was sitting on the kitchen counter fondly.

A year later, y/n walked down the aisle with a bouquet of red roses, sunflowers, and daisies.

The Adventures of Spider-Man and Moonlight

A/N: y’all have no idea how excited I am for you to read this chapter! it’s a long one and full of emotions so make sure you’ve got some water with you. Likes and feedback of any kind are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading!

Summary: In which we see how Peter feels about Moonlight and just how far Luna will go to protect the one person in the world she cares about

Word Count: 5.6k

Warning: violence, blood, gunshot wound, slight nudity

Chapter 4: Ditto

Time passed with the same routine but Moonlight and Spider-Man grew closer…and flirted more. Luna would always initiate it but Spider-Man would always follow. Sometimes if she was feeling extra spicy that night she would pull the zipper of her suit down enough to see the insane amount of cleavage the tight leather suit gave her. Out of the corner of her eye she would sometimes catch him looking for a second. It would only make her grin wide but she never called him out, not wanting him to stop looking. 

The pair were currently sitting in a very empty central park after having had a very slow night. It was nearing midnight which was usually around the time they would call it a night. They sat beside each other, Luna with her legs crossed and facing Spider-Man’s side who had his legs  stretched out in front of him as he leaned back on his hands as they talked about movies, specifically Ghost.

“Look, I’m not saying that it was a bad movie!” Spider-Man argued from his place beside her. “I’m just saying I didn’t like it!”

“That’s fine. You’re entitled to your wrong opinion.” Moonlight shrugged. 

“Name one good thing about it.” 

“The end when he tells her he loves her and he’s always loved her and she says ditto like c’mon!”

“That’s my issue with it!”

“What?!”

“I would never say ditto when someone tells me they love me.” He scoffed.

“What would you say then?”

Peter stared at the woman beside him and sat up so that he could lean in closer. The smile fell from Moonlight’s face but her doe eyes looked at him in a way that spurred him on to do what he wanted. 

“I would…I would cup her face.” His hands came up to tentatively cup Luna’s face, her mask grazing the edges of his thumbs. “And I would.” He breathed, hearing her heartbeat pickup just like his had. “And I would tell her that she’s my everything and I love you cannot compare to how I feel about her.”

Even though he stopped speaking, his hands never left her face. Luna leaned in, her hands finding their way to his chest, resting them flat against it as her eyes fluttered closed when their noses brushed together. Her hands slid up to his neck where the edge of his mask was. He could feel her breath against his mask and he could smell the sugary cotton candy she had had earlier in the night from a street vendor. It made his head spin and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

His mask started to come up and Peter trusted her to know that she wouldn’t take it off and she didn’t. She let it rest on his top lip like she had seen him do before. 

Hands falling down to her neck, he brushed his lips against hers. They always looked so rosy and soft and pillowy and he wanted to kiss them so badly.

The sound of sirens had them breaking apart quickly. They couldn’t be seen like that in public and they had very much forgotten where they were, Peter especially. Moonlight made him forget a lot of things. 

“I should uh check on that.” Moonlight breathed as she ran a hand through her alabaster hair, her heart still beating faster than usual. “Just one cop car so it shouldn’t be anything crazy. Probably just a B and E.”

“Yeah.” Peter agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Smirking, she nodded. “Of course. Night, buggy.”

Peter watched her go until she was out of sight before he turned and headed home. He replayed their almost kiss over and over again in his head. He could feel her hands on his chest and hear the way her breath hitched when he cupped her face. He wanted to kiss her so badly. But if they kissed then it would change everything. If they went beyond their partners in fighting crime status then eventually that would lead to finding out names and identities and becoming important to one another. 

But Moonlight was already important to him. Over the course of the last six months she had become someone that he cared deeply for. He wasn’t madly in love with her but he did love her. She was one of his people and he only had one other person, Aunt May, and he knew that if he were in the situation that he would take a bullet for Moonlight. 

He already loved her and he knew that if they took things further- if they kissed and learned names and identities then he would be in love with her. He knew that he would fall so fast and hard for her. Peter knew that he looked at her like she hung the damn stars in the sky when she was rambling at ninety miles an hour about wilted lettuce or some random ass topic. He knew that he was so physically attracted to her that he would have dreams about taking her skin tight suit off of her. He knew that it would be so easy for him to fall in love with her. It would be like breathing. They fit together so well. Their banter, their sarcastic remarks, the way they fought alongside each other like they always had been partners. He knew it would be so easy.

Peter hadn’t been with anyone since Gwen- not seriously any way. A year ago he had come back from another universe and found a way to get himself out of the grief he had been stuck in for so long. He had been stuck in Gwen’s death for years and meeting his brothers, seeing that he could be happy like them, changed him and gave him hope. Then just six months later Moonlight came along. It was like it was meant to happen. 

At the beginning his reasons for trying to tell himself they couldn’t be together was safety above all. He didn’t want Luna to end up like Gwen had. But Moonlight was already her own hero and fought the bad guys everyday. Whether they got together or not she would be on the front lines still, just like he was. She was already her own target and plus, she could take care of herself.  Moonlight was insanely powerful and he was in awe of that every day. 

There was no reason they couldn’t be together. 

As he got into bed, he couldn’t get her out of his head. Now that he was opening up to the idea of them he was wanting it more and more. He had half a mind to get out of bed and find her and kiss her. He wanted so badly to kiss her. To hold her face in his hands and feel her body pressed against his and taste the cotton candy on her tongue. Feel her soft hair beneath his hands. He had such a thing for her hair. It was so thick and voluminous and the way it moved in the wind; there was something about it that he loved. 

He decided then that tomorrow when he saw her he was going to kiss her and nothing was going to stop him. 

Well, other than quite literally everything possible. He found it nearly impossible to get out of work on time due to a small break through in the team he was overseeing. He couldn’t just leave in the middle of it which was right around the time he was supposed to leave for the day. Then when he finally did get out he missed his bus. Not worrying about it, he changed into his suit in an alleyway right by the lab only to be accosted as soon as he was leaving the alley by an elderly woman who had lost her cat. All the while Moonlight was probably already out on patrol and he wasn’t kissing her like he so desperately wanted to be.

After finding Mittens the cat, he made his way to the Empire State where Moonlight may or may not be. Of course, she wasn’t up there when he showed up and Peter groaned, pulling out his phone and opening up the police scanner to try and see if he could find out where Moonlight was. It took a few minutes but her name came across the scanner making him perk up. 

“Possible bank robbery on Fifth and Madison. Be advised Moonlight is on scene sans Spider-Man. Looks like it might be Kingpin.”

Before the last sentence was even finished, Peter was swinging off the building and headed toward Fifth street, excited to have another chance at maybe taking down Kingpin, kicking some criminal ass, and kissing the girl. 

The scene he walked onto was just starting to unfold, a shootout beginning. Moonlight was stationed behind a car and sending out blasts of energy to try and take out those shooting at her and the cops. As Peter landed behind the car a few feet away from Moonlight’s, he realized it wasn't the Kingpin but the Russian mob by the patches on the back of their jackets. They were nasty to deal with but they weren’t anything he and Moonlight couldn’t step on.

“You’re late to the party!” Moonlight called with a grin as she used her magic to remove a machine gun from some guy's hands fifteen feet away. 

“Sorry, long line for ice!” Peter snarked before webbing one guy to a wall. They were being shot at by maybe ten guys, all behind parked cars 

Moonlight couldn’t keep the grin off her face as they worked to take down those who were shooting at them. She was in high spirits from a great day at work, she got a wonderful tip that would go toward buying a new phone since her current one was starting to randomly make calls because it was so old and messed up. Last night when Spider-Man almost kissed her had really set the tone for the good day, though. She had decided that she was going to kiss him as soon as she had the chance. There was something between them and she wanted to find out what it was and explore it. 

Everything stood still when Luna saw Spider-Man get shot. 

It was at the hands of one of the mob's men who was too good of a shot and he got Spider-Man right in the chest. It made Luna gasp as she saw the bullet hit him, time feeling like it was moving in slow motion. Her eyes were wide with horror and her heart feeling like it had stopped. It made him stumble back from the force and fall behind a car. 

He didn’t move after that and Luna knew that if she didn’t get to him and heal him, she might very well lose the only person in the world she cared about.

Not worrying if she got shot, she ran out from behind the car that acted as a shield and into the open, covering her head with her hands and trying to remain low as he got behind the car Spider-Man was behind.

Luna dropped down to her knees in front of him where he lay unresponsive and bleeding too fast for her liking. She desperately searched for the bullet inside his chest, anxiety pouring off her in waves and tears gathering in her eyes as she searched frantically, her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer. Her gloved hands were making it more difficult so she ripped them off.

When she found the bullet she cast it aside and put her blood covered hands over the bleeding bullet wound and closed her eyes, letting it flow through her and heal. She unfortunately barely got started before she heard the sound of bullets hitting the car they were behind. She needed more time that she didn’t have. Not there, anyway. She needed to get them out of there. 

Not caring about the consequences, she closed her eyes and let the energy gather in her hands like a spring before she released it. She let it come out of her hands like weapons towards the shooters, sending anyone in its path flying back like a bomb had gone off. It gave her the time and clearance she needed to run at blurred speed to Spider-Man. He was all she was thinking about.

Using her magic she picked Spider-Man up and ran, damn near floating, to the one place she felt safe and was just two blocks away: her apartment. She didn’t care about anyone seeing them or Spider-Man behind in her apartment. She only cared about making sure he lived.  

She didn’t even know if Spider-Man was alive anymore by the time she was bringing him in through her window to lay him down on the tile floor. 

Luna ripped off her mask before bringing her hands to his chest and trying to heal him as fast as she could. There was so much blood and she was so terrified. If there was anyone who deserved to be saved it was him. Spider-Man was the physical embodiment of good. He was who she strived to be like. There was no purer heart on this earth than him. And she was falling in love with him. They would have nights on the top of the empire state building when they were waiting or on slow nights where they would talk for hours. He had come to learn her story; he knew things about her no one else on the earth did. He was so gentle when he was around her and no one had ever been gentle with her before. She was falling in love with him and if he died she might shatter. 

She didn’t know his name yet. She still didn’t know who the man behind the mask was. She didn’t know his favorite childhood memory or who was his favorite person on the planet. She didn’t know if had any pet peeves, like people chewing gum loudly. She didn’t know what his favorite season was. She didn’t know if he wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted to kiss him. She didn’t know if he had brown eyes. She didn’t know any of it and it was breaking her heart.

Tears leaked out of her tightly shut eyes as she kept letting her powers enter his body. 

“Please don’t die.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

Her eyes flew open and Spider-Man was starting to wake up, shifting under her. 

Before anything else could be said she was throwing her arms around him, body crashing into his. He was surprised but wrapped his arms around her, welcoming the embrace.

“I thought you were dead.” She sniffed before pulling away, letting him sit up halfway. 

He stared at her and she wet her lips, looking down his chest that was most healed, nothing but pink skin left. “Are you okay? I can heal you some more.”

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed. 

Peter felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time. Even though she had tears down her cheeks and red rimmed eyes, she was more beautiful than he could have imagined. He had an idea of what the rest of her face looked like but the way her nose came to a sharp point was something he didn’t know about but thought was adorable. Her thin arched brows and red tinted cheeks were new to him and he loved every part of them. There was a small deep dented scar on her left cheekbone that made him wonder.

Looking at her like she was Aphrodite herself, she may as well have been with how beautiful she was, he smiled softly because he finally knew what she looked like.

Her hands flew up to her wet face, fingers feeling that the black cat eye style mask she wore was gone before remembering she had taken it off just minutes ago. 

“Well I guess I'll have to get a face transplant now.” She deadpanned in a breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that he thought she was beautiful. “Can’t have Spider-Man knowing my identity.”

He reached up to the back of his head and pulled off his mask without hesitation. He wanted her to know what he looked like. He was ready for her to know Peter Parker. No one in the world, his world anyway, knew that he was Spider-Man and hadn’t since Gwen died. He was ready for that to change.

All she could think was how beautiful he was. Those deep, warm brown eyes looking at her captivated her and she had to blink to break free of their hold and take in his fluffy brown hair that looked like a purposely disheveled mess and the way his nose was rounded perfectly. But she kept going back to his eyes. They were so warm just like him. He was like a warm spring day with the sun shining down and the breeze hitting your skin and making you feel alive; that’s what his eyes reminded her of. 

God he was so handsome but in such a gentle way and everything she hadn’t expected but had dreamed off. 

Luna’s hand reached up, cupping his jaw and feeling the stubble under her palm. His hand reached up to cover hers before bringing it down to put on his chest. His other hand reached up to cup her cheek as he sat up fully and closer, their noses brushing together, just like the night before. Then he kissed her. 

Luna had been kissed before, she’d had a couple one night stands over the years, but she had never been kissed like that. It was with the same gentleness as he spoke to her with but the passion she had never felt from him before. They were a mismatch of lips before he gave a suck on her bottom lip before he pulled away.

“Peter Parker.” He breathed. “My name is Peter Parker.”

Luna felt like she couldn’t breathe; Peter Parker. It fit him so well.

Her lips lifted. “Luna Carter.”

Of course her name coincided with her alias and of course it was something so beautiful. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Luna asked again, looking back down to his chest to make sure he didn’t have a scratch left.

Peter couldn’t tear his eyes away from her beauty. “I’m perfect.

“I should go back and clean up the mess I left.” She realized before jumping up and finding her mask that was on the ground by the couch. “Just stay here, I'll be right back.”

Peter was on his feet, ignoring how weak he felt, and grabbing her bloodied wrist as she made her way to the window. “What mess? Just give me a second and I’ll come with you.”

Stressing her bottom lip, she exhaled shakily, looking up at him. “I may have…gone to extreme lengths to get you out of there so I could heal you. Please just stay here, Sp-Peter. You’re not showing it but I know you feel drained right now. It's normal when I heal someone with an injury as bad as yours. I’ll be okay.”

Peter felt winded by hearing his name come out of her mouth and past her kiss bruised lips. His eyes searched hers and he worried that if he went he would only be a burden. He knew he didn’t feel right and he might put her in danger by going. She was strong and knew what she was doing. He had to trust her. He did trust her.

“Okay.” He conceded. “Just…” He cradled her face in his hands and dipped his head to kiss her deeply, drawing it out as their jaws moved together, Luna’s hands finding their way to thread into his locks.

Luna was the one to break the kiss, panting hard and resting her forehead against his, Peter’s chest rising and falling just as fast as hers. “You have one hour to wrap it up or I’m coming after you.”

“Typically that’s the most effective way to make sure she’s satisfied.” Luna deadpanned and Peter let out a breathy laugh before giving her another kiss, this time quick and chaste. He watched her jump out the window and take off in a blur before closing the curtain right behind her only to lean against the wall in exhaustion but with a beaming smile on his face. 

He took in her apartment and realized this was Luna he was meeting. There were parts of herself all over the place that he didn’t know a thing about. For starters, the place was covered in plants. There were some on shelves, some hanging from the ceiling, and some on the walls. The green velvet couch that was definitely thrifted was a few feet from him and a small glass coffee table in front of that with a few books and a mug that had what looked like a half drank cup of tea. 

Wandering further, he made his way through the very small apartment, taking in the small things like the ivy that looked like it had been in its place so long that it had taken over the wall it was against. Her kitchen had a bar cart with various liquors and wines and an entire station on the counter dedicated to coffee. There was a coat rack by the front door, also definitely thrifted, with a long black wool coat and a couple of purses hanging off of it. Below that was a pair of black Chelsea boots and a pair of worn out converse.

In the wall space between the front door and the bedroom was a bookshelf that looked like it had seen better days. It looked like Luna herself was trying to keep it alive with nails shoved into the planks at odd angles to keep the shelves in their place. 

As he looked through her books, he was surprised to see so many romance novels of all kinds. From classics like Pride and Prejudice to those very raunchy ones with shirtless men on the covers.

The bedroom door was open and he didn’t think Luna would mind very much if he just took a peek inside. 

Her bed was in the center of the room with a plush viridian comforter and black pillows against the gold metal frame of the bed. More plants filled her room but he took note instantly of the record player on a side table with a shelving of records beside it. 

He found artists from Coldplay to Taylor Swift to Bring Me the Horizon. There were at least two hundred different vinyl albums on the shelves. 

He looked down at the record player and lifted the lid to see what was underneath but he couldn’t tell so he turned it on. Have You Ever Seen the Rain started playing mid song and he stood there, taking in the fact that what she played last on vinyl was his favorite song. 

“It’ll rain a sunny day I know; shinin’ down like water.” John Fogerty sang.

He let the song play out as he looked around, smiling at the small things about her that he was learning. She had fuzzy black slippers by her vanity that was full of makeup and hair products. A hydroflask sat on it with various stickers on it. One was from a women's gym and there was one for the band Muse and another was for BLM and another that was of the Vine about the roommates.

Taped to the outer mirror of her vanity was an opened card and Peter read the message. 

“Luna, your service is always such a delight and Jerry and I always look forward to coming to Vetro’s to see you! You always give such a lovely smile and are always so kind to Jerry. We hope this makes things easier on you during the holidays. Love, Yolanda and Jerry.”

Peter smiled softly before pulling his phone out to google Vetro’s. It was a restaurant in Brooklyn which horrified him at first to think that Luna was working in an entirely different borough of New York until he realized it was on the border of Brooklyn and Queens and probably took her no more than half an hour to get home with the subway.

The song ended and Peter closed up the record player before making his way out to the living room and sitting on the couch, finally starting to feel his strength come back to him. 

It was two minutes before the hour mark and Peter was getting ready to put his mask on and head out, worry for his…whatever she was now, filling him. 

But Luna walked in through the front door, dressed in black ripped jeans and a vintage black t-shirt with a brown wig on. 

“Everything okay?” Peter asked, striding up to her, eyes scanning to find any injuries. 

“No- fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Neighbor was down in the alleyway looking for something he tossed in the trash by mistake so I had to improvise.” She pulled off the brown wig, hands clean of Peter’s blood, and then took her hair out of the bun, it falling down past her shoulders and to her ribs.

“And the crime scene?”

Her eyes met his. “Well, I don’t think I’m going to face charges for the damages I caused but the police chief was very clear that I can’t do that again.”

“What did you do?”

She inhaled, pressing her lips together for a second. “That entire block we were on looks like a bomb went off. I didn’t…when you were lying there dying, Peter…I just…” Her mouth remained open like she didn’t know what to say or how to explain it.

He pulled her into his chest, arms going around her and finally feeling at ease now that he had her in his arms. “Hey, I know. You don’t have to explain it to me.” He reassured her, dropping a kiss down on the top of her head. “You never have to explain it to me, Luna.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I could run to Brooklyn and back.”

The silence was comforting and Luna was the one to pull away but her hands found his and she took them both and her eyes met his. “We should talk.”

“Probably.”

“Yeah it would be best.”

They stared at each other for a second until Luna couldn’t stand it anymore and pushed up onto her toes to kiss him, arms going around his neck. Peter’s hands found their way to her hips to grip tightly, nearly groaning at the way it felt to have his hands on them finally. They had teased him far too many times. 

Peter stumbled back, leading them to the couch and falling back onto it, Luna on top of him as they made out like two teenagers. Luna bit down on his bottom lip lightly and it wound send him into a fog for a second because of how erotic it was. If this was how it felt to be kissing her he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to do anything beyond that.

Luna pulled away with a gasp, chest heaving and eyes half open but Peter didn’t stop, only moved his lips down to her neck. The sucks he gave had her letting out soft moans, her hands weaving their way into his hair causing Peter to whine softly. The sound sent a wave of heat through her body.

“Peter.” Luna moaned, eyes falling shut and grinding down onto him where she could feel how hard he was under her. It made her head swim with pleasure and her body beg for more at the same time.

Breaking from her neck and panting, he looked to the goddess on top of him. “Say it again.” 

Knowing exactly what he was asking, she bit her lip, breathing still heavy. “Make me say it.”

Cocky was a term some would associate Spider-Man with but not so much Peter but he was very cocky when his hands slid up Luna’s shirt to yank it off as he sat up with her still in his lap. His mouth kissing down her bare chest and his hands pressing into her bare back sent a wave of goosebumps across her skin and he couldn’t help the small grin that came across his face. 

He couldn’t help but having spent a few nights wondering what Luna’s breasts had looked like under her form fitting suit. Would they fit in his hands or spill out? Were her nipples a soft pink or a darker brown? 

He found his answer was soft pink when he gave a suck to a pebbled nipple, feeling like he was living in one of his wet dreams. He was sure he had this exact dream too; sucking on her tits with her in his lap and his hands on her back clutching her close to him. He wanted so much more and feeling her press down onto his aching cock was making him crazy.

“Peter, fuck.” Luna moaned, her hand dropping from his hair to the back of his neck while her other gripped his bicep. “Peter.”

Peter sucked and kissed hickeys all over her neck and chest, feeling like was in heaven with her moaning his name and his mouth on her breasts. Maybe he had actually died and gone to heaven when he was shot. If this was it he didn’t mind. He was more than happy to drown in the angel in his arms. 

“Okay.” She cleared her throat, panting softly. “We should stop.”

Looking up at her with glistening lips, he worried he had gone too far too fast. “Did I do something wrong?” She hadn’t said anything and he feared he had missed a signal or a body language.

Her eyes softened, the corner of her lips lifting just a tad. “No. I don’t really want to stop but…I’m so tired and I’m not going to lie I was starting to fall asleep for a second because it felt so good and you’re so warm. You have no idea how much I want this. I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”

Reaching up to brush his thumb across her bottom lip, he took in her tired eyes and remembered that she had almost quite literally brought him back from the near dead and then had finished everything where the shootout had taken place. Of course she was tired.

Giving a gentle kiss to the middle of her throat, eyeing the splotches of red and purple that littered her neck and chest, he pulled away. 

“You should get some sleep.”

Luna found her shirt behind her and slipped it back on before getting off of Peter, hands running through her hair. She watched Peter pick up his mask and start to put it back on but she was quick to grab his wrist to stop him. 

“Are you leaving?”

“Did you want me to stay?”

“I watched you almost die tonight. I…really want you to stay.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

She eyed his bloodied suit. “I think I have something you can wear.”

Luna, ever the thrifter Peter was learning, had a shirt that was three sizes too big on her but fit well on Peter along with some sweats that were only a little tight on him. Both items were black and he wondered if she owned anything other than black clothing. He’d never seen her in any other color; even her suit was black.

“My fucking god, Peter.” Luna laughed as she stared at her chest in the mirror in the bathroom. 

He smirked from the bedroom, stepping into the black sweatpants. “You said make me and I take that very seriously.”

“I look like I was attacked.” She shook her head with a smile before sliding her shirt back on and switching the light off. 

Peter was sitting on the bed, waiting for her and she stopped walking, eyes lit up at seeing him there waiting for her. She looked at him and it really hit her that she knew the man behind the mask now. The man she had been daydreaming at work about and fantasizing about when she read anything by Nora Roberts. He was waiting for her and they were going to go to sleep together. It was a daydream come true.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. 

Luna got in bed and Peter followed, unsure of how wanted to do this. If she just wanted him to sleep beside her he was okay with that. He wanted to make sure she was okay after such a long day and after such a big step was taken.

He didn’t get the chance to ask what she wanted because she was curling right into his chest, arms tucked up and hands pressing against his chest. He noticed that she liked having her hands on his chest and made a mental note to ask about it later. For now, he draped an arm across her and pulled the blanket over them. 

“Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy right now.”

He dropped a kiss down on her forehead. “Ditto.”

The Adventures of Spider-Man and Moonlight

A/N: okay so I know I said that chapter 4 would up today but chapter 4 is incredibly long but this chapter is very important to Luna’s character so I decided to do a 3.5 so that chapter 4 isn’t quite as long. I promise it will be worth it! Enjoy this short one to tide you over for 4!

Summary: In which Spider-Man learns more about Moonlight than anyone else

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

Chapter 3.5: Too Cool to Be From the Moon

Moonlight stared at the masked man twenty feet away from her and wondered what his life was like. He had to have a job like she did but what did he do? He was really smart so he had to do something like engineering or maybe he was in business and was one of those people who didn’t actually work and got to take a hundred vacation days in the year. It would make sense on how he had the time to be Spider-Man because he was out way more than her. Luna could only come out as Moonlight during the night for the most part because she was at work during the day time. She of course got her days off but she tried to pick up shifts whenever she could to make rent. What did Spider-Man do that allowed him so much time to be Spider-Man?

“I can feel your stare.” He called just loud enough. 

Instead of looking away, she got up and made her way over to him, plopping down bedside his crouched position. “You know I don’t know anything about you. Not what you look like, not your favorite movie, not if you think pineapple belongs on pizza-”

“It does.”

“Heathen.”

“See that right there. You just told me something about yourself.” Her eyebrow arched. “Any native New Yorker knows that pineapple belongs on pizza. You’re not from New York.”

“Incorrect.” She hummed in a sing-song tone. “I was indeed born in New York. But you’re right. I’m not actually from New York.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything about you like I don’t have to tell you anything about me.”

“What if I wanna know something about you?” She breathed. 

He finally looked her way and they stared at each other for a minute, Spider-Man debating on what he wanted to do. “I will answer three indirect identity questions.”

Luna squealed. “Goodie! Okay, so first, what’s your favorite song?”

Thinking for a second, he nodded. “Have You Ever Seen the Rain by CCR.”

“I see that. That song fits you. Okay next-”

Spider-Man interrupted. “What do you mean it fits me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just does. But to my next question: Tequila or Vodka?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He mused with a chortle. 

“Just answer the question, Spidey.”

“Tequila.”

“Were you born with your powers or did someone give them to you?”

The silence that filled the space between them was thick but Luna stared, waiting for his answer. 

“I um wasn’t born with them. A spider bit me.”

“You’re actually joking right?”

He was confused. “Why would I be joking?” 

“Because that’s just so…funny. Like you got bit by a spider and turned into a spider human. Like what the fuck ya know?”

“Fine. How did you get your powers huh? Did some mad scientist give you your powers Ms. I’m too cool to be from the moon or something?” He teased, being sarcastic. 

“Yeah.”

Spider-Man froze, mouth open with the next word he had been planning on saying. “Wait, really?”

She shrugged a single shoulder, trying to play it off. “Yeah. Gregory Manheim. My foster parents sold me to him when I was seven and then he turned me into this. But I did have my healing abilities before that so I guess I was also born with them.”

He swallowed, the mental image of a young Moonlight in his head. Then the mental image of her as a young child scared and alone took over and he wanted it gone. He didn’t think Moonlight knew what scared meant because she faced everything head on and never showed any type of fear but he was so wrong. She faced everything head on without fear because whatever she was facing at the time wasn’t the scariest thing she had been through.

“That’s really terrible, Moonlight. I’m sorry.”

Moonlight stared off at the city. “Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m from Florida. I was born here but Manheim’s lab was in Florida. You know I didn’t even know I wasn’t in New York anymore until I was nine? He never let me go outside so I didn’t know I’d left the state. I was so young I thought it was a different country.” She chuckled dryly. “The energy…that didn’t come until I was fourteen. I’ll never forget the first time I was able to externalize it.” The way she stared off was as if she was back there. “He put a bite guard in my mouth and I just knew whatever it was it was gonna hurt. Then he hooked up the particle accelerator and…I felt like I was an exploding ball of fire.”

Spider-Man stared at her, heartbroken and horrified behind his mask. A particle accelerator was what gave Moonlight her powers and it made so much sense. They were made to propel particles to high speeds…and energies. That was where she got her speed from and the light beams that came out of her hands were exactly the purpose of them. In summary, she was a human particle accelerator.

“You know you’re the first person I've ever told that to?”

“That you’re from Florida? Yeah I wouldn’t go sharing that with everyone.” He chuckled before his smile fell and he became serious. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I don’t know how you do it. You just make me- people feel safe…and other things: irritation, rage, annoyance.” she listed off before letting out a soft laugh, Spider-Man joining in. “So now you know where I come from.”

“Jesus. You were just a baby.” He shook his head.

She hummed, eyes on the city she vowed to protect. “I was. But he never realized something very crucial.”

“What?”

Moonlight looked back at him. “That he was creating the very weapon that would eventually kill him. Last year I tracked him down to Russia and I made sure he would never do to another person what he did to me. I made sure I get to sleep at night knowing he’ll never come for me and ya know what?”

“What?”

“I sleep like a baby.”

Spider-Man was a very morally inclined person but he didn’t blame Moonlight for a second. This one he could excuse and wouldn’t think or look at her differently. Who knows what all had been to her in the ten years that she had been a human lab rat. He didn’t want to think about them. It put him in a rage to just think about and there was no one he could direct that at because the person responsible was already dead. 

It was obvious to him that she was making herself incredibly vulnerable to him in that moment. It then all became clear to him that the sarcasm, the jokes, the dicking around was some sort of defense mechanism or coping mechanism.

The police scanner beside them burbled to life with some key words that had their attention and the two were off to save the city from whatever villain of the week decided it was their turn. One thing for certain that they both knew was that Peter now knew more about Moonlight than anyone else and he was the closest thing she had to a best friend. 

That night, all Luna had been able to think about as she laid in bed trying to fall asleep was that she was getting dangerously close to Spider-Man and it terrified her but at the same time she wanted it. She wanted a friend, she wanted someone to know her and care about her. She just didn’t know if it was what was best for him- or her.

The Adventures of Spider-Man and Moonlight

A/N: this is arguably my favorite chapter so I hope you like it!

Summary: In which we see just how much tension is between Spider-Man and Moonlight and how their new partnership is going

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: violence, injury, sexual innuendos 

Chapter 3: Hot Dogs and Quesadillas

Moonlight stared at Spider-Man from the roof she was on and wondered what he looked like under his mask. She had no idea what he looked like at all. He had some semblance of her face since her mask only covered the upper portion of her face and he knew her hair color, though she wore a brown wig anytime she wasn’t home or running around New York as Moonlight, so he a pretty good idea of what she looked like but Luna knew nothing about his face. Did his face match his voice? Was he as good looking as she pictured in her head? She pictured him with a wide set, strong jaw and blue eyes, she loved blue eyes, with pitch black hair that was a little lengthy, maybe grazing the bottom portion of his neck but as she got to know him her image of his face evolved. At first she thought he might have blue eyes but then as she got to know him she decided he was a brown eye kind of guy because of the way he loved cats and dogs equally and didn’t prefer one over the other. She had wanted to think he had black hair but she was starting to lean toward blonde lately because of the way the sun always seemed to bathe him so beautifully.

Of course, this was a fantasy based on his voice and it took her back to the point of: she had no idea what he looked like. They’d been working together for six entire weeks now and she knew as much about him as the people of New York did. 

Luna smirked as she floated down onto the roof of the Vanderbilt, being as silent as she possibly could. Spidey was overlooking the city with his arms crossed, a slow night hitting them for the first time since Moonlight had fought with Spider-Man the night she got shot. It had been a whirlwind ever since.

Moonlight was on the front page of every paper and magazine in New York City and the people loved her. Little girls everywhere were wearing crescent moons on their chests and masks just like hers, claiming that they wanted to be a superhero just like Moonlight. It was something she hadn’t anticipated and it made her strangely emotional- in a good way. She’d gone her whole life without very much attention, save for one crazed scientist from Florida, so to be the current topic was a lot. There were, of course, some people who thought she was a menace just like Spider-Man, but for the most part the public loved her. The one thing she could go without was the catcalls from men she got when she was Moonlight and the vulgar comments and propositions made to her. It really bothered her and she tried to ignore it and she would never let it show just how it made her want to shrink away but it always put something in the pit of her stomach. 

So things were going well. For the first time in her life Luna felt like she knew what she was created for and what her purpose was and why she was given her powers. It was to help people. 

Having a purpose had changed her. She was happier and lighter and she was starting to actually make friends with the people at work. She laughed more and there was a perk in her step. She’d started singing in the shower and genuinely meaning it when she told people to have a nice day. She didn't know she could ever feel so good. She’d never felt that way before and it made her just know that she was doing what she was meant to be doing. 

As Luna floated over to Spider-Man she held her breath, really wanting to catch him off guard and maybe even scare him a little. He was always prepared and she wanted to catch him unprepared for once. 

Right when she was about to put her hands to tickle his sides, he spun around and captured her wrists in his hands tight, almost a little too tightly, making her gasp. He was so close to her that she could almost see through the tinted eyes of his mask and feel his breath on her lips. 

They stood there for a second, staring at each other with Spider-Man holding her wrists. Luna was almost wondering if he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She hated how she couldn’t read a thing about him. Did he feel the same tension she did? The only thing that told her maybe he did was the rise and fall of his chest being just a little faster than normal.

“S-Sorry.” He exhaled. “I didn’t know that-that uhm it was you.”

He dropped her wrists and turned back to the city. 

“It’s okay.” She shook her head, trying to get the feelings to go away. “How did you know I was there? I made like no noise.”

“Spider sense.”

Luna was quiet for a second. “Come again?”

“You know how spiders don’t have to see you to know you're coming? It’s kind of like that but it’s this feeling kind of like anxiety. I felt you coming. I knew you were right there.”

“Maybe Manheim should have invested in spiders.” Luna mumbled before plopping down to the edge of the building, feet swinging off the side. “So Spidey what does your sixth sense tell us about tonight?”

“That it’s gonna be a slow night.”

“Oh good.” She groaned. “You know when I decided to get into the hero business I didn’t realize how exhausting it was going to be. It’s like I went to sleep for ten hours straight the other night as soon as I got home. I just crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow which is nice because I kind of have trouble sleeping but I don’t know if I like sleeping that much because when I woke up it was already like one and the day was mostly gone. And you know what sucks?” She looked up to him but spoke before he could answer. “We don’t even get paid for this. Like I knew that going into this and it’s not why I’m doing it but the city could at least offer to pay our medical bills or something.”

“You don’t have medical bills.” He snorted, arms still crossed.

“Well no, but the government doesn’t know that! For all they know we could be spending thousands a year on ibuprofen!”

Peter stared down at the small ball of energy who was talking his ear off and he was smiling so hard behind his mask that his cheeks hurt. She was so damn adorable and he thought the way she rambled was cute. So cute that it made his stomach flutter. 

He had to admit that when Moonlight first came on the scene he was very hesitant and unsure but as they worked together over the last handful of weeks he found he not only wasn’t bothered by her but he actually liked her. She was a strong fighter and actually really helped him. They worked well together. Plus, when he found out she had the power to heal people he hadn’t gone home beat to hell anymore which let him sleep a lot better which gave him more energy for patrol the next night. It was a new rhythm that he welcomed. 

Moonlight’s company was something he welcomed as well. He was a little lonely before she came along but now he looked forward to going on patrol at night. He would be counting down the hours until every single sun ray was gone and he could go meet his new partner in fighting crime who would talk his ear off all night and refused to let him go home without knowing he was pain free. 

Luna’s chatter was interrupted by the sound of sirens. They looked at each before nodding and heading in that direction, Luna running at comet speed and Spider-Man swinging on his web. 

It hadn’t been anything too crazy- only a grocery store robbery that ended with the robbers putting their hands up and dropping the gun as soon as they saw Spider-Man and Moonlight show up. 

“Hey are you hungry? I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who makes the best hot dogs in the city.” Spider-Man suggested as they left the crime scene parking lot. 

“Street meat? No thanks, I actually really enjoy keeping my intestines in my stomach.”

“I’m serious!”

“No.”

“Come on!”

“No way, Jose.”

“Just try it!”

“Spider-Man, for the last time I don’t want your meat in my mouth.”

Spider-Man inhaled, ready to argue only to process what she had said and he clamped his mouth shut, Luna throwing her head back in laughter. “Now I know how to make Spider-Man speechless.”

Under his mask, he was blushing furiously, trying to fight back a smile. She was good, he had to give her that. 

After a second, he felt like he could speak properly. He would have to get her back some other way later.  “Just trust me.” He mused. “I’ll let you pick the next place.”

Luna pushed back a smile at the idea of a next place.

“Fine but if I get food poisoning and die I’m getting “Spidey did it” on my headstone.”

“I’ll even autograph it.”

True to his word, the hot dog stand was just around the corner and Luna had to admit she was starving so everything smelled extra good. She got one with mustard and relish and one with just mustard while Spider-Man got four with quite literally every condiment known to man on his. 

“Are you really going to eat all of those?” She asked as they found a roof to sit on.

“Nah ones for Herman.”

“Who’s Herman?”

“My pet spider.”

Luna bit back her laughter. “Well tell him to stay away from my hot dog.”

He nodded. “Got it.” Then he looked down to the ground beside them and whispered so softly Luna couldn’t hear before he looked back up to her. “He says he doesn’t like relish anyway.”

This time Luna chuckled, biting into her hot dog. 

She watched as he started to lift his mask and for a second she wondered if she was about to see his face but he stopped at his upper lip, resting his mask there. The mental image of his face that she had in her head matched at least his jaw. It was a strong jaw that looked like it could cut glass and had the start of a five o’clock shadow, something she adored on a man. His lips were a soft pink and slightly chapped, the upper lip deep set but his bottom plush. 

Seeing part of his face fueled her theories that behind the rest of that mask was a strikingly beautiful face. 

They ate in silence, Spider-Man somehow finishing all four of his hot dogs in the same time Luna spent on hers. It was…disturbing to witness to say the least. 

She put her hand on his stomach, swallowing when she felt the rock hard abs. “Spidey, I got some bad news. I think you might have a black hole in there.”

“A curse of being Spider-Man. You should see the size of my grocery bill.”

“I have a feeling it might scare me.”

Spider-Man’s mind went right into the gutter and he knew what he wanted to say but he hesitated for a second before deciding that he felt like he could.

“Do big things scare you?” He asked, teasing in his tone.

“Not really…?”

“Good to know.” He hummed with a light chuckle. 

Luna put it together and she dropped her jaw with a gasped chuckle. “You sicko!”

“You started it!”

Luna fell into hysterical laughter and Spider-Man joined, falling back to lay down. Luna mirrored him and they fell quiet. 

“You know Moonlight I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” Spider-Man mused. 

“We’ll see how the hot dog sits and then we can talk about friendship.”

~~~~~~~

Moonlight dodged the punch thrown by Kraven. “Listen dude! Why can’t you just chill out!” She dodged another punch and hit him with an energy blast. “Why can’t we be friends? Kumbaya and all that shit!”

“Kumbaya my lord!” Spider-Man sang from a few feet away where he was fighting with one of Kraven’s men. “Kumbaya!”

“See!” 

Letting out a loud grunt or irritation, Kraven pulled a machete from the straps on his back. It was sharp and big. 

“Okay fine! I was just trying to make friends!”

The knife had made things harder and Luna was very narrowly missing blows as she tried to subdue the man three times her size. Her size was an advantage and a disadvantage. She was small and fast so she avoided a lot of hits but that also meant her enemies were usually big enough to crush her and once they had her would really do some damage. Like right then the Hunter grabbed her by the throat.

“You are a little pest.” He hissed, lifting her up, making her kick her legs as her hands clawed at his. She wasn’t getting any air because his grip was so tight. 

“But I’m the spider!” Spider-Man whined, shooting web onto Kraven's eyes, forcing him to drop Luna who was gasping for air as she hit the ground. 

Spider-Man took the advantage to knock Kraven out by shooting a line onto his head and pulling it down to bash it into a pipe. 

Luna got back on her feet, hands at her throbbing throat and pulling down the neck of her suit.

“You okay?” Spider-Man asked, trying not to seem too concerned as he jogged over. 

“I think so.”

She pulled her hands away and Spider-Man could see the red marks in the shape of Kraven's fingers. It rubbed him wrong and bothered him to see. 

“Lemme see.” He reached up, tilting her chin back so he could inspect her neck. His hands were on each side of her neck and his fingers brushed gently. “That’s going to bruise.”

“Not with my…super powers of healing!” She boisterously said with a chuckle.

He dropped his hands and watched as she healed her neck. When she pulled her hands away the redness was gone and Spider-Man was put at ease as she fixed the neck of her suit. 

The clean up was easy and soon all the suspects were in squad cars and headed for the station. 

“Where to?” Spider-Man asked. “We’ve still got time to kill.”

“Okay so just hear me out.”

Spider-Man groaned. “Hell no.”

“Why?!”

“Because I know I’m gonna hate it.”

“No you won’t! You’re gonna love it!”

“I think it’s time I go solo.”

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna regret this.”

Ten minutes later and Spider-Man was absolutely regretting every choice he’d ever made that led up to that moment in his life.

He was sitting in a Mexican restaurant wearing a sombrero that Luna had put on him the moment they walked in the door and wouldn’t let him take it off. 

“I look ridiculous.”

“I know.” She gushed. “It’s great.”

“You’re the worst partner in fighting crime ever.”

“You love me.”

“I really don’.”

“You do. Couldn't live without me.”

He shook his head but didn't argue further because really he knew she was right. He couldn't imagine going back to being a lone wolf.

“So I’m thinking of the arroz con pollo but I don’t know if you know this but rice does not sit well with me but I really do love it and the chicken. Maybe they can change it out for beans or something but not all places will do that. I once asked them to do that on this place on seventh and they just really didn’t take that question well so you never really know ya know?”

Peter, grinning behind his mask, hummed as he looked over the menu. 

“Buuuut there’s also the chicken burrito which sounds so good. Four types of cheese? Sign me up. What are you gonna get? You’re a quesadilla guy aren’t you? No shame in it.”

“I am indeed a quesadilla guy.”

“Knew it.” She triumphed under her breath.

They ordered once Luna finally decided what she wanted and Peter slid the hat off his head, Luna not noticing. 

“Okay I gotta pee I’ll be back.” She announced before jumping up and heading for the restroom. Peter definitely did not watch as she went and he definitely did not love the way the suit hugged her figure. He was a gentleman and definitely did not let his eyes glance as she walked away.

When she came back he almost choked on air. The zipper that was always right up the collar on her suit was so far down her chest was visible and her cleavage was very out in the open. He couldn’t look away for a solid five seconds before forcing his head down to the chips he was eating, his mask resting on his top lip. 

Moonlight acted as if nothing had changed and chatted about whatever. Peter couldn’t focus because all he could do was make sure he wasn’t looking at her chest. He tried not to speak too much, knowing his current mental state would make him sound like an idiot. 

Except that he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Moonlight was insanely beautiful. Only half her face was visible but it was plain as day that she was stunning. It was something that anyone with eyes could see so of course he was attracted to her but he couldn’t be attracted to her. For one thing, he promised himself he would never put another person in danger because of who he was, not after what happened to Gwen. He wouldn’t do that to someone else. Another thing, they were partners in fighting crime and mixing business with pleasure never ended well. They were strictly co-workers and co-workers didn’t look at other co-workers' boobs. 

“You okay, Spidey?” Moonlight asked, sipping from her drink. The condensation of the cold glass dripped down the side of the glass and into her chest, making it glisten. Peter gripped the table. 

“Y-Yeah yep yeah. Just got a um a headache coming on I think. I’ll be right back.”

He jumped up from the table and made his way to the bathroom, ignoring the looks he was getting as he went. He knew someone had tried to ask for a picture but he couldn’t let anyone see the state he was in. 

It had never happened before but he had a hard on in his suit; his very thin, revealing suit. 

At their table, Luna was laughing silently, shoulders shaking as she dipped a chip in some salsa. She knew what she was doing the whole time. She had been wanting to know if Spider-Man would be affected by her in that way. They were so flirty at times and she didn’t know if he was just messing around or not but if they were going to play games she needed to know what kind of hand she had. 

The Adventures of Spider-Man and Moonlight

A/N: so here’s chapter two! I cannot wait to have three out because there is just so much banter between Luna and Peter in three. If you liked this a like would just make my day!

Summary: In which we see Moonlight and Spider-Man growing closer and forming a friendship as well as a partnership 

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: violence, injury, blood

Chapter 2 - Partners in Fighting Crime

“So did the bad guy you talked to give you any idea of what time this mega size drug deal was about to go down?” Spider-Man as he and Moonlight sat waiting behind a bunch of wooden crates in a warehouse on the docs. 

Moonlight had aided in an arrest earlier in the night in a separate part of town than Spider-Man had been in. She’d overheard two of the suspects talking about how they were going to be dead for missing the deal that was going down at the “fun house”. After doing a little googling she found out that the fun house was a nickname for a warehouse called Jimmy’s Supplies where party supplies was made and shipped. 

“Nope.” Luna said, popping the p. 

“Did you get any names?”

“Nope.”

“Do you know anything else?”

“Nope.”

Spider-Man threw his arms up in exasperation. “Of course not.”

“All I know is it’s happening.” She shrugged, looking at her long black nails. She’d cut slits the glove of her suit for stiletto nails to go through since she’d got her nails done a couple days ago. She had to admit that she was obsessed with them. 

Spider-Man looked at the woman he had only recently started teaming up with some nights and shook his head. The guys she overheard were probably talking about another night or maybe even giving Moonlight false information to throw them off so they would miss something that was actually going to happen. His senses weren’t going off and nothing seemed amiss. This was why he worked alone. 

“Look, I appreciate you sharing information with me but I don’t think anything is going to happen tonight- at least not here.” Spider-Man stated, hands on his hips. 

Luna’s eyes flashed up but she didn’t move from her seat on a crate where her feet were propped up on another, legs crossed. “You wanna go that’s fine, I just figured we could work together. I’m not going anywhere, though.”

He stared at her for a second before nodding. “I’ll see you around.”

Moonlight gave a two fingered salute. “Later, buggy.”

Spider-Man took off from the warehouse and left the docs, heading back into the city. He quickly found a massive hostage situation going down at a gala at the MET. This was probably what those two guys had been talking about. They’d probably used code words so no one would know what they were actually talking about. Moonlight still had a lot to learn.

“Have any demands been made?” Peter asked as he jumped down from his web, walking up to the police chief. 

“None. My guess is they’re robbing the actual museums. Lotta art in there worth millions.”

Peter nodded before swinging his web up so that he could come in from the way they would least expect it: the ceiling. 

The glass ceiling gave him a perfect view as to what was going on inside. There were maybe fifteen masked guys, all armed and pointing their guns at the nicely dressed guests who were all terrified and cooperating. He tried to come up with a plan but none of them had good odds.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled before webbing up one of the window panes and then pressing down hard on it to shatter it. The web muffled the sound and held the glass so none of it fell below. He webbed it into a ball that he cast below, he would come back for it later, and started to lower himself down by his web. He was only a few feet down before he realized there was a couple of the armed men in a corner, talking among themselves and not paying attention. He quickly shot his web at them to cover their mouths and stick them to the wall, their guns falling but Peter grabbed them with his web and back to him, bringing them back up to the roof before going back down. Two down and thirteen to go.

He repeated this three more times, taking out the ones he could before knowing it was time to switch tactics. He was going to start pulling out the hostages. 

He crawled down the corner of the wall where there were large drapes so no one would see him. When he was down he looked up and took out the window directly above him like he had the one. He then got the attention of two women who were just a few feet from him, both shaking and crying. 

“Quietly.” He whispered.

They came over and he directed the first one to hold onto him. She gripped tight and he was shooting a web up and climbing it as fast as he could. One the roof, he jumped down it and set her on the ground. 

“Thank you, Spider-Man.” She cried, hugging him. “Please you have to save, Hannah too. She’s my sister.”

“I’m getting everyone out. I’ll be right back.”

Peter did the same with Hannah and two more guests and then another guest and so on. He knew he could only get so many people out before the hostage-takers noticed but he wanted as many people out as he could before any gunfire started.

There were two hundred people and he knew he had gotten around fifty around by the time the room was noticeably emptier. 

He’d only saved five more people before he heard the yell when he was just going back inside. 

“Oi! Greg! We got company.”

Peter knew he’d been spotted and dropped down from the ceiling, landing on his feet in the middle of the room. “Mind if I drop in?”

Gunshots rang out at the same time Peter started shooting his webs to take their guns. He dodged bullets and grabbed guns, trying to grab them as they came flying to him. He disarmed them all and threw the guns to nearby guests. “Can you hold these for a second please!”

It was Spider-Man against ten guys, hand to hand. Peter even made it easier for them by not using his web shooters. 

“You could try harder! Come on! I could do this blindfolded!” He egged. 

Just a few minutes later he was looking at ten guys on the ground who were either unconscious, surrendering, or too in pain to stand. “That was just sad. You guys really need to train more.”

He jogged over to where the giant doors were and opened them up, dozens of SWAT behind the door. “You’re welcome.” He stated. 

He walked out and noticed that police cars were taking off with their sirens on.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked an officer walking past him. 

“Some kind of huge drug deal going down at the docs. Looks like it’s Kingpin and his guys.”

Peter froze, only able to think one thing: Moonlight. He’d left her there all alone.

Shooting a web out, he took off and started swinging as fast as he could for the docks. Kingpin was no one to mess with. He’d been seriously injured by him on several occasions and always worried when they had any kind of encounter. His men were all incredibly trained and skilled. He had a hard time himself when it came to that organization. Moonlight was still finding her footing as a fighter and wasn’t as skilled of one as he was. She did have her powers as an advantage but it would be her against dozens of highly lethal men.

He felt like such an ass and so stupid. He should have listened to her. He assumed because she was new at this she didn’t know what she was doing and he may be the reason she gets seriously hurt or worse. 

He arrived before the cops and went right to the warehouse Moonlight had been in. He could hear voices when he was close enough but it didn’t sound like any kind of a fight was happening. That wasn’t good news. Either Moonlight left or…or she was down. The thought put a knot in his stomach.

He slipped in through a broken window in the back, looking for her. He was panicking a little and he tried to rationalize that she would be okay. She could simply be out cold somewhere. 

The area that they had been in before was now swarmed with Kingpins men, all armed and all very dangerous. The guys he had just taken out at the MET were nothing compared to these guys. These guys would actually be a challenge for him. 

He scanned the room and gripped the edge of the crate he was hiding before when he saw a head of long white hair on the ground behind some oil barrels. She wasn’t moving and he couldn’t separate her heartbeat from everyone else’s to know if she was alive or not. He needed to find a way to get to her. 

It was easier thought than done. He was nearly spotted several times but managed to get over to where she was. She was in a pool of her own blood with her hands on her stomach and eyes shut, skin pale. But her chest was rising and falling. She was still alive. The relief that washed over him made him dizzy.

He crawled over to her and put his hand on her cheek, patting gently. “Moonlight.” He whispered. “Wake up.”

Her eyes flashed open and she put her hand right to his throat. “It’s me!” He whisper screamed. 

Her hand dropped at the recognition. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Saving you, obviously.” He looked down to the wound in her stomach. It looked like she’d been shot. “I gotta get you out of here.”

She shook her head. “Hold on. I’m okay.”

He looked at her like she’d grown a third head. “In case you didn’t notice you’ve been shot like a thanksgiving turkey!” He hissed in a whisper. 

“Really?” She huffed with a roll of her eyes. “I thought they’d missed. Look, I need you to take it out.”

“Take what out?”

“The bullet.”

His eyes widened behind his mask. “What? You mean like reach in and pull it out?!”

“Yes.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Just do it!”

“No! I’m not putting my fingers in you like some war medic on the battlefield! I’m taking you to a hospital!”

“It’s not that big of a deal! Just reach in and get it out!”

He huffed through his nose before looking down to the bullet wound in her stomach that was still bleeding. “I have no idea how this is going to do any good. You’re still going to have a freaking hole in you.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her brace herself, one hand gripping the edge of an oil barrel they were behind. 

Moonlight made no noise as Peter dug around for the bullet but he could tell she was in agony, a sweat breaking out on her forehead and her heart racing, body rigid and tense. She looked like she was in a lot less pain than was actually in. He knew how excruciating it was to dig a bullet out of your body.

When he pulled it out he watched as she panted for a second.

“Now what?”

“Just be quiet.” She snapped.

He bit back a huff and watched as her hands went to her stomach and they started glowing. 

“What are you doing?”

Moonlight didn’t answer and her hands continued to glow on her stomach. When she pulled away, he could see clean, closed flesh where the bullet hold had been.

He gasped, speaking through it. “What the fuck?”

“I can heal myself and others.”

“And you didn’t mention this earlier?!”

“It never came up!” She whisper screamed back. “We can talk about it later!”

The two were a great team. On their own they struggled to take on Kingpin’s men but together they were able to not only take them all down, but stop the drug deal from taking place. They recovered millions in drugs and illegal weapons. And they were both still alive as they walked out of the warehouse, beaten to hell but still alive. Kingpin had slipped away in the chaos, but Peter was just glad they had stopped the entire thing altogether and were both still alive.

Red and blue lights flashed around them as they walked off after giving their statements,, exhausted and ready to call it a night. 

“Thanks.” Moonlight spoke, breaking the silence. “I uh probably would have died if you hadn’t found me and woken me up. I was out cold.”

Spider-Man shook his head. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have doubted you like that. I left you by yourself and…well I’m  really sorry.”

Luna smiled at him. “All good.”

Silence took over as they walked. 

“Hey, you think you can heal this black eye? It’s making my head throb.”

“Oh yeah totally.”

Peter stopped and faced her. Luna reached up and cradled his masked head, letting her hands glow to heal. When she pulled away he felt better than he had in years. She might have healed wounds he didn’t even know he had yet. 

“Wow that’s good stuff.”

“I know right?”

“I feel like a brand new human being.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, grinning wide. 

“If you could find a way to bottle this and sell it you’d be rich.”

She shrugged. “Nah. I like being a masked vigilante too much. Well I gotta get going. Work tomorrow and all.”

She turned to go and Peter wet his lips before jogging over to her. “Hey so maybe we could kind of team up.”

“What like work together?”

“Yeah. I mean, look at how awesome we were back there. And I could really use your help and I think maybe you could use mine.”

“You dig one bullet out of a girl and automatically think she needs your help.” She rolled her eyes but then smiled. “But okay fine. Partners in fighting crime it is.”

“Partners in fighting crime it is.” He agreed.

She gasped. “You know what they could call us? Spider-Moon!” 

“Nope. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Yes! It’s great!”

He turned and walked off. “Not calling us that!”

Two days later when Peter was walking to work he passed a news stand and stopped before backtracking. On the cover of the New York Times in bold black letters was “SPIDER-MOON: NY’S HEROES TEAM UP.”

“Moonlight.” He concluded with a shake of his head before walking off. 

He got maybe ten feet before he turned back around, pulling out his wallet with a sigh. He grabbed one off the rack and paid before stuffing it in his back with a grumble. 

Requests are open! I write for tasm!Peter so send me prompts and or requests

The Adventures of Spider-Man and Moonlight

A/N: Hi! This is my first posted Peter fic so I’m very excited about it. I haven’t consistently written in a couple of years so I am a little rusty. If you liked this I would appreciate a like and a reblog or message about it would send me over the moon! Thank you for reading if you decide to take the time to do so!

Summary: Luna is trying to master the new life of being a superhero and the best thing for her would be some kind of partner in fighting crime like Spider-Man right? Not like their banter and shameless flirting had anything to do with it of course.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: violence, brief mentions of sexual assault

Chapter 1 - No Going Back Now

New York had been home to Luna Carter for almost three years. Three years of feeling like she could blend in. Three years of feeling like she was free. Three years of finding herself. 

When she had first gotten to New York she was beyond lost and scared; she was terrified and on another planet. Now she felt like she had a good head on her shoulders and wasn’t afraid of herself. She was a strong woman who didn’t fear herself anymore. She hated when people talked on the phone so loud the entire block knew their business and she loved when people were so clearly in their own world and couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to what was around them. She loved the show Golden Girls, Blanche was her favorite, and hated jelly filled donuts. The last year of her life had been the best because that was when the living had really started and she had felt safe for the first time in her life. She was truly free and had stopped looking over her shoulder and double checking her front door lock and waking up at all hours of the night to look out her window to make sure she wasn’t being watched. She was free.

New York was home and she was happy.

“Five bucks says he pukes.”

Luna looked to Cassidy who was looking at the kid at table four who was scarfing down ice cream after already having had more food than she herself could eat. His parents paid no mind and continued on with their conversation with their friends. It was some dinner to celebrate some business deal. Her restaurant was a five star restaurant in Brooklyn where the cheapest item on the menu was a bowl of tomato soup at 37 dollars- made with organic sundried tomatoes from the garden out back and fresh cream that came from a fairy upstate of course. 

“Glad that’s not my table.” Luna chuckled as she proceeded to clock out on the screen in front of her. “In fact, none of these are my tables. You wanna know why?”

Cassidy groaned. “Cause Robbie cut you?”

“You know it.” Luna snickered. “After that table with the football guy left me a three hundred dollar tip I have been so ready to go. I’ve never wanted to be cut so bad in my life. And you wanna know what I’m gonna do when I get home?”

“What’s that?” Cassidy was amused.

“I’m gonna get into a very hot bath with a glass of rose and watch Mr. Darcy tell Elizabeth Bennet that she has bewitched him body and soul.”

“You bitch. I wanna be you so bad right now.”

Luna couldn’t keep the grin off her face and did a shoulder shake. “I would wanna be me too.”

The sound of a child retching followed by screams had Cassidy groaning. 

“Good luck with that, girl. I hope they tip you good.”

Cassidy rolled her eyes before heading to table four. “Not likely.”

Walking out the back door of Vetro’s, Luna headed home. She worked in Brooklyn but lived in Queens and took the subway every day. She didn’t mind it very much except when it snowed but that night wasn’t one of those nights and she was in a good mood as she headed for the subway. 

It was already dark out and she hugged her thrifted wool coat closer, missing the long summer days when there would still be some form of light out when she got off of work.

The ride home felt longer than normal, her excitement to get there making it feel like she would never make it. Eventually her stop came and she walked off eagerly and headed up, already thinking of what kind of bath bomb she was going to use and dying to get her brown wig off.

She was only two blocks away from her building when something caught her eye. It was a scuffle in an alleyway on the other side of the street. It took her a second to realize a man was being mugged. 

Frozen in place, she watched as she tried to figure out what to do. She knew she could easily help the man but at what cost to herself? She didn’t know if she could keep watching and do nothing but she didn’t know if she was willing to expose herself. 

Before she could figure out her decision, a flash of red and blue appeared and the two men were broken apart. She could only just hear what was said. 

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not nice to take things that aren’t yours?”

She watched as Spider-Man webbed the mugger to a wall. She’d never seen him in person before and had only seen him in photos and in the news but she had a coworker who had and Luna now understood what she had meant when she said he was tall looking even if he wasn’t barely six foot.

Not wanting to be noticed and her concerns for the man who was being attacked qualmed, she walked the two blocks briskly. The entire time she kept replaying the moment she did nothing but stand there when the man had been attacked. What would have happened if Spider-Man hadn’t showed up? Would she have witnessed a murder? No. She wouldn’t have let that happen. She wouldn’t have been able to stand by as someone’s life was taken.

As she sat in the bubble bath with a glass of rose, she felt guilty and regretful for not helping the man. She could have stopped it with ease but she hadn’t because she was worried about herself. She wished she had stopped to thank Spider-Man for doing what he did. She never really thought much about it before but he was an extremely selfless person. He gave up his time every day to keep the city safe and put himself in danger to protect others. She hoped he got some kind of compensation for it. 

What she had thought about was where he’d gotten his powers from. Had he been born with them or were they given to him like her? How much did they have in common? He was clearly better than her because he, at least, was using his powers to help people.

But why couldn’t she? Why couldn’t she put on a mask and use her powers to help people? To help keep the city safe? She had weapons built into her hands and she was doing nothing to use them for the greater good. Maybe she could take the curse that had been forced upon her and find a way to turn it into something good. She had had her curse for six years and she hated it every second and wished she could find a way to get rid of it every second. But maybe she didn’t need to get rid of them. Maybe she just needed to do something with them.

It wasn’t like anyone could hurt her. There had only been one person who had ever physically hurt her before and he was a special case and was long gone. The safety thing wasn’t an issue. She truly didn’t believe anyone could not only best her in a fight but kill her. 

As she laid in bed she couldn’t calm her thoughts. All she could think about was if she was going to actually do it; become a superhero. She knew that it wasn’t something she should jump right into but she also couldn’t stop thinking about it and the more she thought about it the more she wanted to get out of bed to make a trip to wherever she could find fabric and sewing kit. Maybe she could track down Spider-Man and ask him what he used to make his. 

Over the next few days Luna crafted her suit. She had quite a few errors and had to start from scratch at one point when she realized she’d mixed up two measurements and had more band aids on her fingers than she could count from the needle pricking her finger. She had hand sewn the entire thing since she didn’t have a sewing machine but by the end of it it fit her like a glove and felt like a second skin.

It was made of black spandex and covered nearly her entire body. She’d given it a collar that wrapped around her neck as well as gloves that she could take off if she wanted, the seem at her wrists nearly invisible, and a zipper that went from her belly button to her collared neck that only she could open from the inside. For her feet she’d had to copy Spider-Man and tried to mirror the way he’d put built in shoes in his suit, which had been the hardest part of all. On her chest was a silver crescent moon. But her favorite part was the cape she had made. It was made of black pleather and had small silver stars on it. She had seen the fabric when she was on her way to check on and just knew she had to have it. She didn’t think of the cape until much later. It had been a last minute decision but she loved it.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she picked up the black mask she’d made. It was in the shape of cat eyes with sharp ends that flicked off and rested on the bridge of her nose. It was without a band and had eyelash glue on the inside. She tested it out and she was able to jump up and down and move around without it budging and felt confident it wouldn’t fall off. She would have to change out the glue every day but she liked the way the mask looked without a band better. 

Wearing the mask and in her suit, her stark white natural hair down and free and brushing her ribs, she felt like she was a real superhero. 

She was Moonlight. 

Her hand reached the front door knob when she froze. She couldn’t go out like this. Someone might see her coming out and know instantly she was Moonlight. How was she going to get out of her apartment? How the hell did Spider-Man get out of his?

Looking to her window, she sighed before walking across the room and opening the window. The cold air hit the exposed parts of her face and she was glad with her decision to line the inside of her suit with fleece. Very, very thick fleece. She would have to make a new suit for the summer but for now this would be perfect. 

Making sure none of the windows that were in the building across from her had their blinds open, she jumped out of her window and onto the fire escape. Maybe she would be able to drop a backpack down into the alleyway of her building and change there. She would have to start doing that in the future when it didn’t take her ten minutes to get her suit on.

Her first night as Moonlight was…disappointing to say the least. Quite literally nothing happened. She hadn’t been able to find any crime or any attacks or anything like that. She had no idea how Spider-Man did any of this and she had even tried to find him to ask him but that had also not panned out. 

It was when she was walking to work the next day that she passed a police officer and his radio was on, allowing her to overhear a call about a breaking and entering. Her head had whipped up when she realized she needed a police radio. She didn’t know if that’s how Spider-Man did it but this would be how she did it. 

That night she sat and waited until she got the call about a bank robbery by a “bird man” only seven blocks from her apartment and she was jumping out of her window and letting her magic do half the work of her run. It wasn’t that she could fly exactly but she could exert the power to carry her body partially. 

When she got there, she halted upon seeing that Spider-Man was already there. She didn’t know what to do. Was there some kind of rule where if one hero was there it was their save? Should she wait on the sidelines and see if he needed help? Or should she just join in on the fight? 

She didn’t have time to decide because bird guy clocked her and headed right for her with his very large wings that looked like they were part of an attachment on his back. 

“Okay I guess here we go.” She mumbled to herself, raising her hands and putting out the energy to entrap the villain. It worked and he was suspended in her magic. Luna had two different parts to her power. There was her energy which she had been given unwillingly and then there was her magic that she believed was an evolved part of her energy. The energy was dangerous and deadly but the magic was good and quite literally magic.

She felt so exposed and like she was naked. She had never used her powers out in public before, let alone in front of anyone that hadn’t been in Manheim’s lab. But she needed to get used to it. 

“What the fuck is this?!” He screamed. 

Spider-Man landed beside her, ignoring bird mans profanities. “Whoa! How are you doing that?” He was in awe but she didn’t have time to explain. She’d never held that much weight in her magic before.

Her arms started to shake as her muscles struggled with the weight. “Magic. I’m going to lose him so do whatever you gotta and do it quickly. He’s like really heavy!”

Just as Spider-Man was about to web him up, he flapped his wings hard enough to break free of Luna’s magic. She felt fear for the first time and for a brief second wondered if she was in way over her head.

A wing shot out at her but she dodged it, letting out a shaky exhale.

The two of them took him on in a fight, Luna learning his name was Vulture and not bird guy. It was intense and they ended up on the freeway where Luna ended up doing a lot of saving rather than fighting which was good because her fighting skills were limited. She had some experience, Manheim having intended on making her powerful in every way but she hadn’t done hand to hand in years.

He was beginning to piss her off. Vulture would knock a car over and Luna would pull the people inside of it out. Vulture would pick up a running civilian fleeing for their life and let them drop as a way to distract Luna and she would end up having to use her magic to catch them so his method was working. It did make it easier for Spider-Man who didn’t have as many people to save and was able to get more punches in. 

The two fought together as a team like they always had been one. There was an unspoken way they could tell what the other was going to do next and Luna was kind of freaked out by it. She’d never really had that with someone before. The closest thing she had to a best friend was her coworker Cassidy. 

Soon Vulture was webbed up, screaming his head off albeit, and Spider-Man was taking the bag full of money from him before making his way over to Luna.

“That was so cool!”

Finally able to take him in, she noted that he seemed much taller in person, his frame easily towering over hers- not that she was by any means tall at five foot three. His voice also took her by surprise. It was...somehow attractive.

Luna chuckled, legs starting to shake as she was feeling the come down from the adrenaline. “Thanks. You were pretty cool too.”

“What’s your name?”

“Moonlight.” She replied, the name flowing out of her mouth as if that had always been her name.

“Well thanks, Moonlight. I don’t ever have help and you were really helpful. I mean your powers are sick! When that stuff came out of your hands I was kind of freaked out at first.”

“Yeah it tends to do that to people. You were pretty great too. I’ve never seen you up close before.” She looked him up and down again and it made the energy shift.

“Oh w-well I’m always around. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” He chuckled nervously. “But I mean seriously what even is that stuff that comes out of your hands? Is it telekinetic?”

She smirked. “A lady never tells.”

Turning to go, she made sure to look back and wink at the masked man before zooming off like the comet she was, her magic carrying her shaking legs.

Ending up on the top of a building, she swallowed down the vomit and breathed through her nose, eyes shut and trying to calm down. It was her first real superhero fight and she was freaking out a little bit. She felt like you were allowed to freak out your first time fighting as a superhero right? 

“No going back now.” She mumbled to herself. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Really? You knocked down an old lady for nine dollars and a fifteen dollar Starbucks gift card?” Luna scoffed as she put the money and gift card back into the small brown shoulder bag, the purse snatcher on the ground in front of her groaning in pain. Luna had just given him a solid gut punch moments ago that knocked him to the ground. Her new self defense classes were really starting to show their value.

“Fuck you, bitch.” He whined. 

“Oh how you’ve wounded my feelings.” Luna stated dryly. “How will I ever get over this?”

The sound of sirens came and Luna crossed her arms, waiting for the cops to show. She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk so they wouldn’t have to look for them. 

The one thing she hated about this new side gig she’d recently taken on was the police. Apparently a couple years back Spider-Man made a deal with the police department that he would stick around to at least give a statement on what had happened whenever he caught a thief or attacker so that they could actually put charges on the guys that were apprehended by him. By vigilante default that same rule applied to Luna which she had to learn on her fifth day by way of the police chief tracking her down and personally giving Moonlight the message. So now she had to stick around and wait for the cops to actually show up. 

Giving her statement as Moonlight was quick since it was a quick incident. Some nights it wasn’t so easy and she would have to go down to the station and fill out a signed statement, especially if it was something like an attempted murder or sexual assault- but with those two she didn’t really mind and was willing to do whatever it took to make sure they faced their consequences. 

Something she hadn’t seen coming with the job was the toll it took on a person. 

Luna was struggling immensely with the things she saw every night for the last two weeks. She would go home at the end of the night, sometimes beat to hell and the energy feeling like it had fully drained from her body, and feel unable to get the horrific things she had seen out of her head. She knew the worst of humanity, she had seen it up close and personal, but this was different somehow. 

When she was in Manheim’s lab she hadn’t been the only one there. She had seen dozens go through experiments that might be different or similar to her. Manheim had other visions and desires other than the one he had for her. She had watched a boy only a couple years older than her use his vision to burn a hole in the floor. There had been a girl who had been born with the ability to touch something and either kill it or make it die but she hadn’t been able to control it until Manheim got to her. She had seen them all be experimented on and tortured like she had. Most of them died, a couple escaped and she could only hope they were okay, but some of them had been freed by Luna herself the day she took down the entire building. So she was used to seeing horrible things done to people. She had laid in her bed while she heard the screams from those who were imprisoned alongside her. But this was somehow different. 

Maybe it was because it was happening to her too or because everyone expected that stuff to happen to them but she had never been affected by any of that like the current stuff was affecting her. 

Last week she had pulled a man off a woman in central park who was screaming. He had his pants down and she was crying. Luna knew instantly what had happened and wanted nothing more than to kill the man then and there. She knew she could and she wanted to so badly. No one who sexually assaulted another person deserved to live. But she also knew that she couldn’t do it. She had promised herself she would never use her powers to harm someone, even if that someone deserved it. She didn’t get to play god.

She hadn’t slept that night. The sound of the woman's screams replayed over and over again. 

Then there was two nights ago when she had found a body. That had shaken her too. He was a well dressed man with a grocery bag that had milk, cookies, and a new barbie. It had taken Luna a second to realize that he had had a family. He was on his way home to his family and someone murdered him. She had to call into work the next day because she kept vomiting every time she thought about him.

How had Spider-Man been doing this for years? She didn’t know how she was going to do it another night let alone years like he had. She couldn’t imagine the things he had seen in all the time he had been doing it and yet he was still doing it. 

Maybe she just wasn’t cut out for the hero business. 

It was late in the night by the time she caught a break, it being a busy one after the purse snatcher. But when it was finally quiet she floated her way up to a skyscraper where she could take a second to sit and breathe and have a moment. 

As soon as she sat down on the ledge, she felt the tears prick her eyes and she let them flow out of her and past her mask. Thank god for waterproof eyelash glue.

The city below was quiet and she wished for once that it was loud so that she could let out the cry she wanted to. 

The sound of feet hitting the ground made her freeze for a second before she realized it could only be one person. 

Wordlessly, he walked over and sat down next to her. 

“How do you do it?” Luna choked out, continuing to look ahead. 

Spider-Man sighed, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “I don’t know. It gets less…shocking with time but it doesn’t get easier.”

“I saw someone getting raped.” She sniffed. “She was screaming and he just…didn’t stop.”

“I know. I can’t even count how many…those are really hard. And anything with kids.”

Dropping her head, she bit her lip and tried to keep herself together. She knew what it was like to be a scared child being harmed; she didn’t know how she would be able to handle it when she did eventually see it.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can. I’ve been paying attention to you and I see something there.”

Finally looking at him, her glistening eyes showed how vulnerable she was. She felt like she could trust Spider-Man. He was a good person, maybe the only truly good person she had ever met. 

Spider-Man continued. “I see the way you talk to someone when they're in crisis. It’s like you know exactly what they need to hear. You genuinely care about people. You want to help. I know you can do it because your will to do good is bigger than what you think about when you’re laying in bed at night.”

“You do that too?”

“You learn how to deal with it. Doesn’t get easier to see that kinda stuff but…you learn how to handle it.”

“Thank you.” Luna exhaled shakily. “I really needed to hear that.”

“I could tell.”

It was silent for a while, a breeze picking up and Luna’s hair flowing gently in the wind. Sitting up there in the breeze with the view of New York next to Spider-Man felt so peaceful. They were just two vigilantes who were trying to do their best and no one else could understand that life better than the other. 

“I kind of have a question for you.” Spider-Man spoke, breaking the silence. 

“I mean as long as you’re not asking me to flash you sure.”

“W-What?! Why would I ask that?!”

“You would not believe how many guys have asked me to flash them this week alone.”

“I-I would never!”

Luna started laughing as his panicked tone, his hands up in defense. She could only imagine how he looked under his mask. “I’m messing with you. I know you wouldn’t ask that.”

He groaned. “Sorry that men are pigs.”

“I know you’re not one and I think it gives me hope that there are more out there like you. But what’s your question?”

“How does your mask stay on?”

Luna had several questions in mind that he might ask her like how did he magic and energy work or why her eyes turned black when she used said magic or energy but she hadn’t been prepared for that to be the question. It was the least invasive of them all. 

She couldn’t help but smile. “Oh. It’s eyelash glue. Waterproof of course.”

“Huh. Never would have thought of that. Your mask just stays on so perfect and never looks like it’s going to fall or even move at all. I was so sure it was some kind of high tech adhesive.”

She shrugged. “Just lash glue. It’s specifically the Duo brand. Sometimes I have a hard time getting my mask off at the end of the night because it’s so strong.”

A horn was honked and Luna swung her feet, content with where she was. If Spider-Man wanted to talk they could but if he didn’t want to she didn’t mind either. 

“Can I ask another question?”

“Go for it, handsome.”

Spider-Man let out a stammer that seemed like he had started to speak but he wanted to but was so taken off guard by her calling him handsome that his brain malfunctioned. Luna couldn’t help but let a small smirk grace her lips. She was a huge flirt and had a feeling that Spider-Man was a very good looking man underneath the mask. She was also sure he had an amazing body underneath the red and blue.

He shook his head. “Um I um was going to ask uh why your eyes turn black sometimes but then sometimes they’re a normal brown like right now.”

“I was waiting for that one.” She hummed. “Side effect of the energy is the theory. Not totally sure though. My hair is also a side effect. It was brown before and then one day when…it just kind of turned white. Something about the energy just drains color.”

“Ever researched into it?”

“Nope and I don’t plan too. There’s more research on why I am the way I am than I care for there to be.”

Spider-Man took the hint and nodded, dropping it.

“Can I ask a question?”

“I mean I guess it’s only fair.” He teased, sounding like a smile was behind his mask.

Her eyes scanned him up and down, tongue wetting her lips. “Do you ever get bored on nights like this? Seems a little lonely.”

She heard his intake of breath and decided that if didn’t reciprocate her flirting that she would drop it. 

He leaned in, humming. “I used to but you make things very not boring.”

Luna beamed, letting out an amused hum.

The silence fell upon them again and Spider-Man stood up. “Well I’m gonna make another round of the city and then call it a night.”

“I think I’m gonna do the same.”

Spider-Man was about to swing away when Moonlight called his name, making him look back at her. She walked up to him, feet lithe on the rooftop and hair flowing in the wind. She was right in front of him when she stopped, making him stop breathing but heart pounding in his chest. She took his hand and he watched as she put a small folded up piece of paper in his palm and then closed it for him. 

"For when you might need me to help beat up a bad guy.” She gave him a wink and then turned to go, floating down the side of the building. 

Opening up his hand, he unfolded the piece of paper and felt his stomach fill with flutters at what was on the piece of paper. 

three months

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

synopsis: peter reminds you just how much he's missed you.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: fluffy makeup sex, minors dni !!

a/n: happy new year!! i hope this year brings you so much joy <3 this is my first time writing smut so let me know what you think!! try to spot the tasm2 references :p

it's been three months since peter decided to leave.

and it was impossible to not miss what once was. you couldn't help but miss those big, brown doe eyes. you couldn't help but miss the gentle touches he left on your skin in passing. you couldn't help but miss how he would try his hardest to get you to laugh after a bad day. and you couldn't help but miss the empty promise he spoke to you almost every day,

"i'm never letting you go."

and now, as you lay in bed, clad only in his faded blue jacket and your favorite underwear, you couldn't help but miss how good his body felt against yours.

it's been three months since peter decided he wasn't good for you.

peter had come to your window one night after a night on patrol. he could only utter words of worry, letting you know just how much danger he was putting you in by wearing the mask.

you were reluctant about it at first, of course. you didn't want peter to decide your path for you. but you knew he only wanted to keep you safe. and you knew he wouldn't give it up.

so you gave in.

you weren't a total disaster without him. you knew you could go on without him. but that didn't make it hurt any less. you built a world with peter, allowed yourselves to get lost in each other. how could you not still love him?

it's been three months since peter met you at your window.

so you were a little startled to hear familiar taps echo through your room. the sound snapping you out of your thoughts, you look up to find peter just outside your window. your mind, along with your heart, raced a mile a minute as you took him in. he was standing on the fire escape, offering you the slightest smile.

still dorky as ever.

you hesitated, not quite sure you were ready to see him after what felt like an eternity. nevertheless, you managed to peel the sheets off your body, feeling only slightly exposed in front of him.

unlocking the window, you take a step back, eager to hear what peter has to say.

"hi," he whispers, a small grin etching across his lips as he recognizes his jacket.

"hi," you repeat, suddenly unable to find words of your own.

"can i come in? it's kinda cold out here." he's fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, a habit you only now realized you missed.

"yeah," you let out a breathy laugh before continuing, "of course, pete."

he was a little awkward climbing through the small opening, but that was all part of the peter parker charm you'd come to love so much. and once he was in, standing in front of you, all you could manage to do was stare at him. you weren't sure where to go from here.

peter took a step closer to you, further fogging your mind. there was minimal space between you now—and you were well aware.

it's been three months since peter looked you in the eyes.

and it was only now could you see the few tears that managed to escape and fall onto his flushed cheeks.

"can i hold you?" he asks just above a whisper. the slight crack in his voice makes your heart ache. you nod without any hesitation, excited to feel his touch once again. he slowly brings his hands up to your waist, gently squeezing. the seemingly innocent action makes you weak.

it's been three months since peter has touched you.

it was hard to fathom how the mere touch of his fingertips could make you so hot. you feel your face heat up at the abrupt thought of peter between your legs. and as you stare into your ex-lover's eyes, you wish he would say something, anything, to divert your mind.

"i'm sorry," he starts, letting out a small chuckle, "i couldn't stand being away from you any longer."

with confusion clouding over your features, you begin to probe, "peter i don't un-"

"i was so wrong, y/n. so so wrong." one of his hands comes up to slightly graze your cheek. "you're my path, y/n. you're my path."

the word he chose to emphasize does something to you.

"i'm never letting you go, again." he somehow manages to bring himself closer, now resting his forehead against yours. he shakes his head, repeating, "never, baby."

you couldn't help but smile thinking about your next words, "prove it." peter matches your smile before connecting his lips to yours.

it's been three months since peter has kissed you.

and with that singular kiss, the man has your mind running wild thinking of all the things you want him to do to you.

his hands leave your waist, instinctively finding the curve of your ass. "i've missed you," he mutters against your lips. "so much." his actions emphasize his words as he fervently grabs fistfuls of you. reaching your hands up, you tug on his familiar unruly locks. he lets out a small whimper, letting you know just how much he needs you.

growing hungry, peter glides one hand under your thigh, followed quickly by the next. you let out a squeal as peter swiftly picks you up, already feeling his cock straining against his jeans. you couldn't help but smile between kisses.

he's finally yours again.

peter hurriedly walks over to your bed, hands sliding across your back as he gently places you upon the sheets. that’s one thing that’s never changed about him—always so gentle.

nudging your sides and humming against your mouth, he mutters “let me see you, pretty girl.”

he makes you dizzy.

you reluctantly unwrap yourself from him, now feeling small under peter's gaze. seeing you turn your head away, peter places a finger under your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him. and with a toothy grin, peter speaks a low “hi,”

“hi,” you repeat, overwhelmed by his tender demeanor.

peter leans in once again, this time nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. he places scattered kisses across your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin.

drawing his hands down to your waist, he slips his fingers under the worn out jacket adorning your body.

your body retreats at first, overstimulated after months without his touch. peter quickly catches on, pulling back, concern littering his features. “is this okay?” he asks, not wanting to lose you just as soon as he got you back.

“yeah, it’s okay,” bringing a hand up to his face, you run your fingers over his now rosy lips. “just forgot how good you felt.”

“you’ll be the end of me, y/n.” he smiles, lips quickly returning to yours.

peter’s hands find your body, his actions hurried this time. finding the zipper of your jacket, peter swiftly pulls the small piece of metal down your torso, only now noticing you had gone without a bra tonight.

“fuck baby,” he says just above a whisper, thumbs coming up to softly run over your nipples. “you’re so pretty, petal”

that fucking nickname.

peter brings his head down, connecting his lips to one of the erected buds. the feeling making you lose your breath. running your hand through his hair, you plead, “peter, please. do something.” “eager?” peter teases as he pulls away, a cocky smile plastered on his lips. you roll your eyes as you your hands find the hem of his shirt, tugging it off.

you've missed his body so much—missed him so much.

your heart fluttered at the view in front of you. placing your legs over his shoulders, peter found his way between our legs. he littered soft kisses over each of your thighs, careful to remain eye contact with you. “peter,” you whine, not sure if you could take any more of his teasing. taking the hint, peter steadily slides the lacy material down your legs.

it's been three months since peter has tasted you.

your back arches slightly as peter traces his tongue over your slit. his fingers quickly follow suit, only then ghosting his tongue lightly over your clit. “i’ve missed the way you taste," he murmurs against you. tugging slightly on his hair, you silently beg for something more.

making his way up your body, peter littering small kisses here and there—until finally connecting his lips to yours once again. his hands now occupied with the button of his jeans. matching peter's eagerness, your hands rush to remove the tattered jacket from your body.

this was met with a soft "no," from peter. hands coming up to cup your face. he's slow with his words, "leave it on," leaving a small peck to the tip of your nose, he continues, "wanna fuck you in my clothes." his words leave you trembling—the small smile he offers a stark contrast to his words. a small "okay," was all you could muster as you laid back, willing to give yourself fully to him.

hovering over you now, fully unclothed, peter gives you an endearing smile. "what?" you mumble, bringing your hands to cover your face.

the silence is calm, full of love.

"i love you," he whispers, pulling your arms down. his eyes find yours and you swear you could see the sincerity of his words. overwhelmed with all the emotions those simple words brought you, you remind him, "i haven't heard you say those words in months, pete" this time feeling small under your gaze, peter's eyes shift to nothing in particular.

"i love you." you finally repeat. his eyes light up, a goofy smile dancing across his lips. "i love youuu" he drags out playfully, sending you into a small fit of giggles. "god, i love that sound." he says, voice now low and full of ardor.

he knew exactly what to say and how to say it—your peter.

you wrap your arms around his neck, the blue fabric contrasting beautifully against his skin. now you know why he bought this thing. keeping your eyes on him, peter rolls himself into you effortlessly, as if he never left.

it's been three months since peter has fucked you.

"peter," you whine, your darling boy now stretching you out. you felt so full after months of feeling empty. "you okay?" he's gentle, more than willing to take as much time as you need. "yeah, i'm okay." you smile, "just needed a moment. go ahead." "that's my girl," he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into you.

god he fucks good.

"look so good in my clothes, baby." peter's movement falters, bringing your leg up to wrap around his waist—your back arching at the new position. the heat in your stomach growing with each thrust.

you two are fully consumed, wanting nothing more than to feel each other. familiarizing yourselves with each other's bodies like you did all those years ago. he's your everything right now—and always.

peter picks up his pace, pressing his forehead against yours—making eye contact as he pounds into you. "feels so good," he murmurs, glancing down at where your bodies connect. needing something more, you lift your hips up to meet him, creating the perfect rhythm. his thrusts become unforgiving, but never too much.

"fuck, pete," you cry, now looking into his eyes. "m gonna cum," your hand goes to find your center, only to be stopped by peter, quick to trace lazy circles over your clit, the overbearing sensation causing you to arch further into him. "that's my girl," he coos, "let go for me, baby,"

"peter," you mewl, now overcome by pleasure. pounding into you now once—twice, until he cums. peter drops his head into the crook of your neck, painting your walls with his hot cum.

"you okay?" he asks breathlessly. you could only respond with a simple yes. his cock twitches as he pulls out of you, moaning at the loss. the feeling of his cum spilling out of you leaves you high.

peter lifts his head, soft eyes gazing into yours now—always so pretty after a good fuck. the comfortable silence is broken by him, "i'm never leaving you again," his head shakes lightly as he says these words, "ever." a small smile forms on your lips, knowing just how much he means it. mirroring your smile, he continues, "and i'm gonna do everything in my power to make you believe that."

it's been three months and peter has never stopped loving you.

sick days

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

synopsis: peter helps to make sick days bearable.

a/n: just a little something bc i miss u guys <3

tagging some mutuals: @kelieah @dhtomholland

last night

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

synopsis: peter makes the morning after unforgettable.

word count: 0.5k

warnings: mentions of sex, kinda suggestive?

a/n: this is the cutest thing i've written i want to vomit :p pretend morning breath does not exist here p.s. cocky peter is the loml <33

waking up to the sound of a car horn blaring couldn't phase you this morning. and as you flutter your eyes open, you find yourself tangled up in your sheets with peter, who was currently sound asleep. a glimmer of sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating peter's chestnut curls. light purple bruises strewn across his neck serve as an instant reminder of what happened the night before.

your suited boyfriend had stumbled through your window in the late hours of the night. the only words that could fall from his mouth were those reminding you of how he could not stop thinking of you while on patrol. and after many insistent and heated kisses, you and peter decided to give in to your desires for the first time since you started dating.

and now, the morning after, you lay clad in one of the many sweaters he's left, staring at your snoozing lover.

"take a picture, yeah?" peter's lightly chukles as he pulls you to his chest. slightly startled at his sudden consciousness, you look up to find his eyes sleepily gazing at you. a sheepish grin plays upon your lips as memories of his tenderness flood through your mind.

you begin to pepper feathery kisses over his chest, wanting to subtly thank him for last night. peter’s hands, once planted on your waist, now slide down to softly squeeze your bum.

"what do you want to do today, pretty girl?" you now burrow your face further into his chest, flustered under his words.

"mmm," your voice muffled, "stay here?"

pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he responds with, "sounds good."

wanting to stare at your boyfriend a little longer, you decide to pull away to prop your head up with your arm. and for the first time since last night, you make proper eye contact with your darling boy. a shit-eating grin slowly forms on peter's face. you couldn't help but follow his stupid action.

this man.

he slowly takes in his view, a familiar keenness filling peter's eyes. "what're you thinking about, pete?

"i only dreamed of calling you mine just a couple months ago," he starts, "and now you're laying here in my clothes, totally fucked."

"peter!" you groan, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

"c'mere." his hands come up to pull you toward him once again. his fingertips slide up to the middle of you back, drawing patterns into your warm skin. this alone makes you arch into him.

"yanno, you're kinda sweet when you're half asleep."

scattering delicate kisses across your neck, he mumbles, "mhm, i'm always sweet." his breath fanning over your skin drives you crazy.

quickly growing tired of the teasing, you push peter back down, into the mattress. swinging your leg over the boy, you straddle his lap. you bend down, stopping just before reaching his lips, "i love you." but before he could get a word out, your lips are already on his. a pleasant warmth washing over you as the kiss grows hungry. teeth almost clashing as he grabs for your ass.

"fuck, baby." peter whines.

after a couple more moans from both you and pete, you slow down, now softly pecking at his lips.

"god, you're beautiful." he murmurs against your lips. flustered once again, you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"so," he sighs, "how was last night?", asking as nonchalantly as he could.

you swear you could hear the smugness on his face.

"i don't remember. remind me again, parker?"

peter parker blurbs.

⤏ main masterlist

⤏ scroll through these :p

⤏ organized by date: oldest to newest.

⤏ ** indicates nsfw content, minors dni !! u will be blocked !!

BLURBS

home to you

⤏ after an unfavorable night on patrol, peter proposes an idea.

last night

⤏ peter makes the morning after unforgettable.

three months

⤏ peter reminds you just how much he’s missed you.**

attention

⤏ peter does whatever he can to get your attention.

SMAUS

sick days

⤏ peter helps to make sick days bearable.

home to you

pairing: peter parker x reader

synopsis: after an unfavorable night on patrol, peter proposes an idea.

word count: 0.5k

a/n: my first post on this blog!! i haven't written in some time now so feedback is very much appreciated! <33

you dreaded nights like this. nights full of what-ifs meant to keep you up into the early hours of the morning. nights when you just can't seem to silent your thoughts. nights without peter there to calm your busy mind.

peter's frequent absence was understandable, with him always off to save the world and all. of course, being with peter meant accepting everything that comes with him. although, you wouldn't be lying if you said you wanted to keep peter all to yourself.

and as you lie in your empty bed, you can only hope to dream of your darling boy.

your thoughts of your boyfriend had lulled you into a light slumber. that was until patterned taps echoed through your bedroom. and with this pattern, you were able to discern the taps as the man in question.

after recognizing the sequence made all those years ago, you slowly pulled the covers from your body. any drowsiness was quickly muted when you saw peter, mask in hand, trembling on the fire escape just outside your window. anxious to find out what happened, you dashed across the room and towards the window.

after opening the latch, peter practically forced himself through the small opening.

he pulled you into his arms as you murmured a soft, "peter," careful not to harm him any further, you ghosted your fingers over the tears in his suit.

"i really need you right now," he said breathlessly, "only you."

when peter needed a pause, he knew to come to you. it was something you made sure to establish months before you started dating. something, both peter and yourself, have since grown comfortable with. you gave him the space he needed when being spider-man became a little too much. it's one of the many reasons he wanted to call you his.

after a few moments of being enveloped in one another's arms, he speaks up, "i need you, baby. so bad."

pulling away slightly and locking eyes with peter, you reassure him, "you have me."

shaking his head slightly, he starts, "sometimes this is all too much. and sometimes, after a long day, all i want is you. i'm tired just of wanting you to be there."

with tears in his eyes, "i need you to be there, y/n. i need to come home to you." his voice much quieter now.

placing your hands on his chest, you let out a breath you hadn't realize you'd been holding in.

"you mean like, move in together?" you ask, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"yeah," he chuckles, "like move in together." his hands gently squeeze your waist.

a smile forming on your face, you answer, "okay."

"okay?" he mutters, almost like he couldn't believe it.

"yeah, okay."

"i could kiss you right now." peter says softy, hand coming up to gently graze your cheek.

a slight smirk appeared on your lips as you glanced down from his eyes to lips, "go for it, parker."

the kiss held the promise of a new future. a future in which peter will always come home to you.

Peter Parker; Strangers in the night

This is my very first imagine that I wrote months ago for my friend and just found it LOL but I wanna share it here so im sorry if theres errors or smth but yeah hope y’all like it.

_______

Word count: 1221

Warnings: none just FLUFF

The wind roared with fury over the towers of Queens, New York. A shadow figure loomed onto a high skyscraper. The small frame of the mysterious figure got the attention of a nearby red and blue boy. With catlike silence, the red and blue suit was behind the dark figure. “If you wanted to sneak up on me it didn’t work.” The sarcastic and dry voice came from the small figured preached on the building. An awkward chuckle escaped the boy and within 30 seconds, the small female was standing up, standing on the ledge. “Bye spider-boy.” And without missing a beat, the female saluted her departure and jumped. Spider-man’s eyes widened at the sudden movements and he instantly leaps into action, ready to save the young woman who jumped. But to his disbelief, there was so body in the air, nor on the ground. the young woman simply, vanished.

It’s been a week since Peter Parker’s strange encounter with the black figured woman. Every night on patrol he would keep his eyes out for her, wanting them to cross paths again.

The noisy and crowded halls of midtown high made my ears want to burst. I pushed through the many teenagers, desperate to get to my locker. With a final push through the crowd my small body collided with my blue locker and I gave a sigh of relief before putting in my locker combination. “YO Y/L/N” the booming voice echoes the halls. “Crap.” i whisper, leaning my head against the cool locker. “Yes, Flash?” I sweetly ask the male. “So I was, Uh, wondering. I gotta party this weekend, wanna come? it’ll be fun baby girl.” Half way through Flash Thompson’s sentence, he winks and grabs at his junk. My nose crinkles in disgust at the teenage boy and say, “No thanks Flash. I have family plans. Maybe next time!” I smile sweetly before grabbing the books i need from my locker, and walk to first period.

When I get home to my small apartment in Queens that afternoon, I immediately run to my room and grab my skin tight black uniform. I smile while i run my hands down the soft fabric, mixed with leather. Most people have some life changing moment to want to become a “superhero” but I had always wanted to help people. I took various fighting skill classes from age 4 to age 15. I knew how to take care of myself, and when the infamous “Spider-man” took on the streets of Queens, New York, i knew I could too. So i made this costume and my other gadgets and started around 3 months ago. I go mostly unnoticed, which means Spider-man gets my credit for the job, but it doesn’t bother me. I would rather help people than be on the front page news. But i can admit I chuckle when I think about how confused spider-man must be when he gets credit for the job he didn’t do.

After the sun goes down i walk into my room and put on my suit. the fabric and leather are perfect. Soft but sturdy fabric reaches around my chest and abdomen, and runs down my legs. Patches of leather are on my back, knees, elbows, and around my breasts. The boots I wear have a tiny heel, it doesn’t get in the way but it does give me some style. My hair in a pin straight high ponytail and a black mask covers my eyes and cheekbones. The burgundy lipstick i wear makes my teeth look whiter than normal and makes me eyes pop. I smile in the mirror and get to my balcony window. With a small push, i’m out the window and jumping through the night.

I sit on a ledge, my feet dangling, off a building and scan the streets below. The sound of cars driving by has become a constant and I slightly smile at the noise. “Funny meeting you here.” A boyish voice breaks the almost silent air. I give a dramatic sigh and stand up. “What do you want spidey?” I put my hand on my hip and give him my best ‘annoyed’ look. “Who are you?”

The question only mildly surprised me. He had never seen me before last week so of course he had questions. I only hoped he would give something a little more original off for out first official meeting. “I’m helping.” My statement had a ‘duh’ factor to it and it made him frown slightly. “But i’m spider-man. I don’t need help.” I furrow my brows and frown at his whining behavior. “Chill. I don’t want to steal the spotlight. Just want to take some of the load off you.” I put my hands up in mock surrender and lift my eyes to meet his. When I looked into his mask I had the urge to take it off and see the color of his eyes. Were they bright and blue? or dark and brown? Would they hold secrets and built up anger or an innocence in them? The thoughts of wanting to see my fellow “superheroes” eyes made my cheeks flame up. The sounds of sirens broke our trance and we darted our heads to the noise. “That’s my cue!” I yelled and began running towards the ledge. “Not if I get there first!” said spider-man and he shot his webs into the air, swinging off.

These strange encounters became more frequent over the next few weeks. He would find me on some ledge, we would talk and then some crime or emergency would bring us back to reality. I was beginning to become more and more curious to this boys identity. He was obviously well built, not super tall but not the shortest either. He had a voice that sounded like he just finished puberty but then he also had that vibe that he was maybe older? The curiosity was killing me. So one night i asked, “Will we ever show each other who we are?” I had my head rested upon his shoulder, so my question made my head joint at his sudden surprise. “Would you like to know who I am?” he answered my question with a question. “Very much yes.” I stated. “Then we should reveal ourselves.” His proclamation made me lift my head up with admiration. “really?” The question came out small and high pitched. He nodded and we both re adjusted ourselves to where we were sitting criss cross in front of each other. We put our hands on each others masks and take deep breaths. “Wait.” I say. his hands drop to his sides, thinking we weren’t going to reveal ourselves. I lift his mask up just above his lips and breath nervously. “Can I kiss you?” my words don’t seem to surprise him. He nods and I smile. I place my lips onto his and he begins to move our lips together in sync. I place my hands on his mask and pull it up more. He does the same with mine. When we pull apart, out masks are off. His brown, curly locks are messy and his eyes are a chocolate brown. I look into them and smile. innocence. I smile and place my hands in his hair, kissing him again.

Wasn’t Me

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis: when Vision accidentally phases through your wall and catches you and Peter in the act, you try to stop it from spreading to everyone in the tower before Tony gets home

Masterlist

“Wait, this isn’t the kitchen.” Vision said as he accidentally phased through the bedroom wall. You and Peter froze at the sound of a third voice and slowly looked up. Every time you snuck off to have some private time with each other, you made sure to lock the door. But despite all your best efforts to keep your relationship a secret, neither of you accounted for Vision coming through the wall. Especially not when you were right in the middle of….something.

“Oh. Hello.” Vision said and gave you and Peter a polite wave. The act he had caught you did not seem to phase him at all while you and Peter were horrified.

“AHHHH.” You and Peter screamed at the same time. You rolled off of Peter and landed right on the floor while Peter grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lap.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I am looking for the kitchen.” She said to meet her in the kitchen.” Vision asked politely.

“Well you’re not gonna find it here!” You exclaimed as you threw your shirt back on.

“Dude! Get out! ” Peter shouted as he hastily tried to zip his pants.

“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Vision genuinely asked.

“YES!” You screamed like it was obvious.

“My apologies. I bid you both a good day.” Vision nodded curtly and disappeared back the way he came. You and Peter stayed in silence for a while as you processed what had happened.

“Do you think he saw us?” Peter asked to break the silence. You sat up from under him and gave him a look.

“Do I think he saw us?” You repeated slowly.

“Well do you?” Peter asked as you climbed back onto the bed.

“Are you kidding me? Of course he saw! The straw was already in the coconut. There’s no way he didn’t realize what was going on.”

“Maybe he thought we were just wrestling?” Peter shrugged weakly.

“Uh huh. Wresting with your dick out. Just like WWE.” You said sarcastically.

“Damn it. He definitely saw us. Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” Peter worried.

“He better not. My dad will kill you. And then vaporize your corpse. And then set the ashes on fire. And then blow them into a shrimp cocktail.”

“But I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Exactly.” You whispered.

“Oh shit.” Peter gulped. “We need to go find Vision and make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.”

“Let’s go. He’s probably charging or in a bowl of rice or something.” You said and lead Peter out of the room. You went into the kitchen and found Vision at the breakfast table.

“Hey Vision.” Peter smiled awkwardly as you stood beside him.

“Hello, Peter.” Vision said politely.

“So, about the little snafu from before. We just want to make sure you don’t tell anybody about what you saw.”

“Yeah. Because it wasn’t what it looked like.” You added.

“Oh, no? It looked like the two do you were engaging in sexually explicit activity.” Vision replied. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look and tried to think of a way out of this.

“It looked like that, yes, but that’s not what we were doing.” Peter lied as you nodded along.

“Hm. That’s funny. I can detect heart rates and both of you appear to be lying.” Vision said with genuine curiosity.

“We’re not lying, silly.” You forced a laugh. “My heart is racing because I haven’t had any food yet but I drank a bunch of coffee.”

“You know women and their pumpkin spice lattes.” Peter added, earning himself a jab in the side.

“Watch it.” You said through a smile.

“And my heart just beats fast because I have the heart rate of a spider.” Peter added. “No lying here.”

“Oh, I see. But if you two weren’t engaging in sexual activity, what were you doing?” Vision questioned.

“Uhhh…” Peter scratched his head and tried to think of something.

“Peter was just choking on a pretzel and I was getting it out of his throat.” You jumped in.

“With your tongue?” Vision asked.

“Yes?” Peter said weakly.

“With your shirts off?”

“It’s a new technique.” You deadpanned.

“I’m not aware of this technique. Can you demonstrate on me?” Vision asked you.

“Absolutely not.” Peter snapped and stepped between you and Vision. Vision looked at Peter in confusion and you had to jump in again.

“Because it didn’t work.” You explained. “He still choked.”

“He seems fine to me. Although, I am detecting some slight discomfort in the abdomen.” Vision said as he looked Peter up and down.

“I have a tummy ache.” Peter admitted and patted his stomach.

“Would you like me to conduct a physical exam?” Vision asked and held up both his hands.

“No. I probably just have to fart.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes.

“So are we cool? You’re not gonna tell anyone what you saw?” Peter asked Vision.

“We are cool. I will not be telling anyone what I didn’t see.” Vision confirmed.

“Okay. Good.” You sighed in relief.

“Except for Wanda.” He added. “Because I already told her. I tell her everything. I love her quite dearly.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned even louder.

“What did you tell her you saw?” Peter asked him.

“Just you were engaging in-“

“It wasn’t sexual activity!” You exclaimed. “He was choking and I was saving his life.”

“Then why was his penis out?” Vision asked Peter.

“Because…it…was… cold.” Peter said slowly, hating himself with every word.

“Oh my God. Both of you need to stop.” You stated. “Do you think Wanda going to tell anyone about what you thought you saw but didn’t actually see?”

“I’m not sure.” Vision replied. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“Fine. We can ask her.” You sighed and pulled Peter by the hand and brought him to where Wanda was reading on the balcony.

“I don’t want to. She’s scary.” Peter whispered to you.

“We have to talk to her and find out what she knows before she tells my dad.” You whispered back.

“I can whisper too.” Wanda whispered as she suddenly appeared behind the two of you. You both screamed and jumped apart as she laughed. You grabbed Peters hand and ran away, brushing past Natasha as you went.

“They’re a little odd, aren’t they?” Natasha chuckled as she watched you run by.

“They are.” Wanda agreed. “You know, Vision caught them doing it before.”

“What? No way.”

“Yeah. He said he accidentally phased through Peters bedroom wall and caught them.”

“Oh God. Yuck. New fear unlocked. That’s hilarious though.” Natasha laughed at the thought.

“What’s hilarious?” Steve asked as he came into the room.

“Vision caught Y/n and Peter doing it.” Natasha told him.

“What?” Steve laughed. “No way.”

“That’s what I said!” Natasha laughed.

“Honestly, I kinda figured they were doing it. They are the only two in the tower around that age. And lord knows Peter is hornier than an…animal with horns.” Steve said weakly when he couldn’t think of an animal.

“Rhino?” Wanda asked.

“I was thinking Triceratops.” Steve admitted.

“Wait, isn’t there a rule again dating on the team?” Nat asked. “At least, that’s what Tony tells me and Bruce every time we make eye contact.”

“If he had a problem with that, he’s definitely gonna have a rule against one of us dating his daughter. Especially Peter.”

“I thought Peter was a nice boy, no?” Wanda asked.

“He is.” Steve nodded. “But all Tony will see is that he’s a boy who Vision caught with his daughter. He’s gonna blow Peter into a million pieces.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Vision walked in on.” Wanda mumbled. From across the room, you and Peter were peeking out from behind a wall to watch them all talk.

“This is bad. They’re all laughing and saying our names.” Peter whispered to you.

“Do you think Wanda told?”

“I don’t know. What if she made them all see it with her mind powers?”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s evil and not to be trusted!” Peter whispered harshly.

“We just need to talk to her and find out what she knows. Maybe she didn’t even believe Vision.”

“Do we have to?” Peter whined. “What if she enters my mind palace?”

“She wouldn’t find much.” You mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sweetie.” You patted his cheek and pulled him out from behind the wall. Natasha and Steve had left at that point and Wanda had gone back to her book.

“Hey, Wanda.” You said with an awkward wave.

“Oh. Hello. I haven’t seen you two in forever. What have you been up to?” Wanda said sarcastically.

“Not much. Same soup, just reheated. You know the vibes. So, uh, we just wanted to talk to you about something. Something Vision might have said.” You began.

“Oh. You mean you two swallowing each other alive in Peters room?” Wanda asked. You and Peter exchanged a look and Peter let out a loud gulp.

“Vision doesn’t know what he saw.” You told her.

“Vision is made from the highest form of artificial intelligence. He knows everything.”

“Okay.” You said mockingly. “But he doesn’t know in this specific situation.”

“He’s programmed to access a situation down to every last detail in case there is a threat of danger. And it seemed the only threat of danger in Peters room that day was running out of oxygen. Or maybe a broken pelvis.”

“I’m flattered but I’m not that good.” Peter said humbly.

“He’s right. He isn’t.” You nodded in agreement.

“What was that?” Peter asked you.

“We just want to make sure whatever Vision told you about what he thinks he saw isn’t going to be told to anyone else.” You said to Wanda.

“Now hold on.” Peter tried to go back to what he had heard.

“Secrets safe with me.” Wanda smiled and zipped her lips.

“And me.” Bruce said from behind you. You and Peter whipped around and saw Bruce staring at you while eating a bowl of cereal.

“What?! Were you in here the whole time?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. Wanda, you are funny. How come I never noticed that?” Bruce chuckled.

“I’m not sure.” Wanda shrugged. “You tell me.”

“God damn it. Are either of you going to tell anyone what Vision saw?” You asked and pointed at Wanda and Bruce.

“I thought Vision didn’t see anything?” Wanda smirked.

“Right. Is anyone going to tell my dad about what Vision thinks he saw but definitely didn’t see?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe? I don’t understand the question. Can you reword it? Or maybe write it down so I can see it?” Bruce asked.

“Oh my God.” You groaned. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Ouch. Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being mean to me?” Bruce asked Peter.

“I’m not his girlfriend because we weren’t engaging in sexual activity because we’re not dating. Everyone got that?” You asked angrily.

“Got it.” Wanda nodded.

“No, sorry. Still confused. So you are dating but Vision didn’t catch you guys doing it?” Bruce asked so genuinely that you wanted to scream.

“No, he definitely did.” Wanda snorted. You looked at her in betrayal and she smiled apologetically.

“Oh. Now I get it. You guys are dating and Vision did catch you having sex.” Bruch realized. “But what are we not telling Tony?”

“No one is telling Mr. Stark anything. Everyone just keep your mouth shut about the activities, which may or may not have been sexual in nature, that Vision allegedly walked in on. Okay?” Peter exclaimed.

“My lips are sealed.” Wanda assured you. “Well, now they are. Because I already told Steve and Nat. But that was before you asked me not to tell anyone.”

“Oh my God. Find. Can we trust you?” You asked Bruce.

“I’m not gonna rat. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” Peter nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

“I don’t take orders from you.” Bruce snapped and walked away.

“Jesus Christ.” Peter whispered and felt genuinely offended by the tone. You took his hand and brought him away from Wanda to regroup.

“We need to get ahead of this before anyone else finds out we’re secretly dating.” You told him.

“You guys are secretly dating?” Sam asked as he came into the hallway, making you both jump.

“Damn it!” Peter shouted and hit the wall.

“Oh great. Captain fucking America knows now.” You grumbled.

“Since when are you two a thing?” Sam laughed and looked between you and Peter.

“Two months.” You admitted.

“Two months? And Tony still doesn’t know?”

“Do you think Peter would be alive right now if my dad knew?” You asked and gestured to Peter.

“That’s a joke, right?” Peter laughed nervously.

“I guess not.” Sam shrugged.

“Are you gonna tell my dad?” You asked him.

“No.” Sam replied.

“Cool. Thanks.” You sighed in relief.

“But only if-“

“Mother fucker.” You exclaimed now that there was a new obstacle.

“Only if you promise to never bring up that one time with the TV.” Sam continued.

“You mean when you got caught-“

“Zip it.” Sam cut you off. “Or I’ll tell Daddy Warbucks about your affair with Little Orphan Annie here.”

“This whole conversation has been wildly emasculating.” Peter mumbled.

“I never saw anything.” You told Sam.

“Good.” He nodded. “Then we have a deal.”

You went to shake hands when your phone started to ring. You looked at Peter curiously and pulled it out of your pocket.

“Hang on. Hello?”

“Hey short stack. I’m landing in 20 minutes. I can see that most of the team is in the tower today so I thought we could all have a nice, family dinner in the dining room. How does that sound?” Tony asked you through the phone.

“The entire team? In the dinning room? For dinner? Tonight?” You asked as panic grew in your chest.

“Are you playing a one man game of Clue? Just let everyone know, will you?” Tony asked.

“Sure, daddy. No problem.” You laughed nervously and looked at Peter with wide eyes.

“Thanks, peach. See you soon.” Tony said before having up.

“Shit balls.” You whispered once you were off the phone.

“Was that super good news?” Peter asked hopefully.

“My dad wants the whole team in the dinning room for family dinner.” You said and held your breath for his reaction.

“Son of a…” Peter started to shout and then quieted down, “shart mama.”

“I know. It’s bad.”

“This has gotten so out of hand. I’ve never taken this many L’s in a row. I don’t know if I can take anymore. My body is shutting down. I haven’t peed all day.” Peter said as he paced back and forth.

“Keep it together.” You said as you gripped his shoulders.

“Oh no. This is going to be so awkward.” Sam laughed at your misfortune.

“Why? Because everyone knows we’re secretly dating except for Mr. Stark and they also know Mr. Stark will kill them for knowing and not telling him right away so tonight will be a long, uncomfortable game of who tells him first?” Peter asked all in one breath.

“Yes, that’s exactly why.” Sam nodded and looked at Peter strangely.

“I don’t want to go.” Peter whispered and turned to you.

“We all have to go.” You told him. “He’ll get sus if we’re not all there.”

“But what if your dad kills me?” Peter whined.

“Then I’ll wait at least three months before getting a new boyfriend.” You smiled sweetly and patted his chest.

“You can do that but I’ll just haunt him and kill him in his sleep.” Peter smiled back.

“Oh my God. Come on. We have to go get ready for dinner.” You said and pulled Peter to your room.

30 minutes later, everyone was seated in the dining room with Tony at the head of the table. You and Peter nervously peered through the doorway to see what the set up was.

“What’s our plan?” Peter asked you.

“Sit far away from each other and diverge the conversation every time my dad gets close to happening upon the truth.”

“Okay. How hard can that be? We never get together for family dinner. They’ll all be talking so much that you and I won’t even come up.”

You and Peter took your seats at the table with you next to your dad and Peter further away. You made eye contact with Peter and nodded to let him know that you were in this together. Everyone stayed dead silent as the food was passed around and Tony was quick to notice.

“Why is everyone so quiet? Did Sam leave porn on the big TV again?” Tony asked as he chewed his food. You gulped and looked at Peter in a panic. You had been wrong about everyone talking and keeping the attention away from you. Instead, everyone was silent and tense since they didn’t want to be the one to let Tony know what Vision had seen.

“That was one time.” Sam defended.

“But how could we ever forget?” Tony teased him.

“I just wanted to watch Mama Mia. My eyes were burned.” Bucky said as he shut his eyes to keep out the memory.

“Let it go.” Sam said flatly.

“I don’t remember that.” You said robotically. Sam gave you a discreet thumbs up across the table.

“What? You were the one that found it.” Tony reminded you.

“Doesn’t ring a bell. I think you’re all remembering incorrectly.” You said with no much stiffness it sounded like you were reading from a prompter. Tony looked around the table and everyone avoided eye contact with him. They mindlessly pushed their food around their plates to look busy so that Tony wouldn’t ask them anything.

“Why is everyone acting weird?” Tony asked.

“What? We’re not. You’re being weird, dad.” You forced a laugh and patted Tony’s arm.

“Right.” Tony said skeptically. “So, Pete the treat. Any romantic interests at school?”

Everyone turned to stare at Peter, who was in the middle of taking a sip from his glass. Peter started choking on his water for a long time. No one made any effort to help Peter so he just sat there choking for an uncomfortably long period of time. Everyone stayed silent as he Peter coughed, turned red, and clapped his chest to try and get the water out. When he was finally done, he was crying and bright red.

“What?” Peter asked horsely.

“Peter doesn’t want to talk about girls, dad.” You laughed nervously. Everyone exchanged looks while also sneaking glances at you and Peter.

“He does with me. Come on. My dad never bothered with this stuff and I want to break the cycle. Tell me about your love life.” Tony insisted and playfully patted the table. You shot daggers at Peter and everyone turned to look at him. Peter felt sweat dripping down his forehead and smiled nervously.

“There’s no one, Mr. Stark. No girls.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. I can see the hormones brewing in your eyes. You’re sweating just at the thought of her. I know there’s a girl.”

“Maybe.” Peter squeaked out.

“See? I knew it. Tell me about her. She cute?” Tony asked. Peter looked at you for a brief second and quickly looked away.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s gorgeous. Really pretty.”

“She’s all right.” Sam shrugged, making everyone stifle a laugh as your jaw dropped.

“Fuck did you just say?” Peter snapped.

“I was kidding. Damn.” Sam held up his hands in defense.

“Damn, indeed.” Tony laughed. “Way to stand up for your girl, kid. She’s a lucky lady.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peter said and hoped that was the end of the conversation.

“You really are a good kid, Peter. I don’t tell you enough. I was just saying this to Pepper the other day, but if anyone is ever brave enough to try and date my daughter, I hope they’re like you.” Tony said sincerely. This time, you started choking as everyone murmured with amusement.

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully. He looked at you but you didn’t dare make eye contact.

“Yeah. Sure, you’re pretty annoying and way too eager at times, but you’re a good kid. You’re responsible, you care about other people, and you know how to get a decent haircut.” Tony continued.

“So you’d give Peter your blessing? If he and I ever wanted to date?” You asked skeptically.

“Absolutely not.” Tom said immediately.

“What?” Your face dropped. “But you just said-“

“I said I hope the person you date is like Peter.” Tony specified. “But Peter would never be allowed to date you.”

“Why not?” Peter asked and you shot him a look. Everyone else kept their heads down and turned away from Tony so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Not that I care. Psh. Peter is lame. I would never date Peter. Haha. But yeah, why not?” You asked your dad.

“Because he’s a superhero. And no daughter of mine is dating a superhero.”

“But you’re a superhero.” You pointed out. “And mom married you.”

“I know. That’s why I’d never allow you to go down the same path. I’ve missed hundreds dates, thousands of calls, and a million important moments because I was off being a superhero. I was saving the world but I was hurting the person I love most in the process. I don’t want that life for you. If Peter was an average guy off the street, I’d be thrilled to know you were dating him. But Peter isn’t average.”

“I know that.” You replied, starting to get annoyed now that your dad was trying to tell you that you couldn’t do something. You were already doing it, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed to know that he couldn’t make your choices for you.

“Ayo. Yeah she does.” Sam snorted. Everyone gasped and looked at him, making him freeze. You and Peter stared daggers at Sam who smiled sheepishly.

“Oops?”

“You little bitch.” You mouthed across the table at him. Tom noticed the way everyone reacted and grew suspicious. He looked at you and noticed you weren’t making eye contact. He then looked at Peter, who looked like he was about to pass out.

“What was that?” Tony asked Sam.

“Nothing.” Sam scoffed and went back to eating.

“Samuel. Tell me what you just said.” Tony said with an eerily calm smile.

“I don’t want to.” Sam whispered.

“Tell me or I will shove your wings so far up your ass-“

“I said she knows Peter isn’t average.” Sam admitted before Tony could finish his sentence. You buried your face in your hands while Peter chewed off all of his fingernails.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked and turned to you.

“I can confirm that as well.” Vision raised his finger as he spoke up. You and Peter looked at Vision in betrayal while everyone else stayed silent.

“Oh my God.” You whispered and rubbed your face.

“What? What’s the big red giant talking about?” Tony asked you again, sounding angry this time. Before you had a chance to think of something, Vision spoke up.

“I’m talking about how I accidentally caught them fornicating earlier today, sir. Also, am I required to be here? I can’t actually eat food.” Vision said politely. Everyone was dead silent as Tony processed what he was hearing. No one dared to look up from their plates or even move a muscle.

“You know what? Vision is right. We should actually all leave. And never return. Bye!” You said and got up from the table. Tony grabbed the back of your shirt and made you sit back down.

“Nobody move.” He said in a low voice. Silence fell over the table again as Tony slowly looked to Peter. That’s when he noticed that Peter had passed out and had his limp head in his dinner plate.

“Wake the son of a bitch up.” Tony ordered. Wanda lifted Peters head by his hair and a green bean stuck to his cheek and forehead.

“Peter?” Tony asked, but Peter didn’t wake up. Wanda shook him, then took his pulse to see if he was even alive.

“He’s unresponsive.” She reported.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned to yourself as you watched Wanda and Steve try to wake Peter up.

“He peed his pants.” Steve announced, making you groan even louder.

“PETER!” Tony shouted as he banged on the table. Peter woke up and looked around in confusion. Tony slowly stood up and leaned over the table while staring daggers at Peter.

“Somebody tell me what’s going on.” Tony demanded. No one said anything, so you bit the bullet and stood up as well.

“Dad, Peter and I are dating. Vision caught us before and the whole team found out about it. That’s what’s going on, okay? Please, don’t kill my boyfriend.”

“What?” Tony asked as he slumped back in his seat. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, but it was definitely not good.

“Sam was watching porn on the big screen!” You blurted and pointed to Sam.

“You said you didn’t see anything!” Sam pointed back at you.

“That was before you didn’t hold up your end of the deal!” You shouted.

“Shut up, both of you. Are you kidding me right now? You’re dating Peter Parker?” Tony asked in a calmer voice.

“Yes, daddy. I am. I have been for two months. We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d be mad and we just wanted some time together before you forced us apart. I wouldn’t normally lie to you like this but I knew you’d never allow us to be together and I love him. I just needed to love him for as long as I could before the world knew. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me.” You said as you took your dads hands. Tony stared at you for a long time and finally, put his hand on your cheek.

“I could never be mad at you, princess.” Tony said kindly. You smiled in surprise as Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m gonna turn Peter inside out, though.” Tony said sweetly before lunging at Peter. He punched Peter right in the throat, making Peter collapse to the ground. You rushed to Peters side as Tony shook out his hand.

“Dad! You can’t hit him that hard. He’s only 5’8. He could’ve died.” You yelled at Tony as you pulled Peters head into your lap.

“That didn’t even hurt.” Peter wheezed out as he clutched his throat. Tony wound up to hit Peter again, but stopped when he saw something that surprised him. He watched Peter reached up and touch your face as he whispered to you that everything was going to be all right. He thought he had just been punched in the throat and was awaiting the punishment of a lifetime, his priority was to comfort you when you were upset. Tony then knelt down beside Peter and helped him sit up.

“I’m sorry, kid. I should not have hit you. It was a slight overreaction.” Tony sincerely apologized.

“Slight?” Peter croaked out.

“I just wasn’t expecting to come home to this news. But if it’s been two months and my daughter says she’s this in love, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.”

“Mr. Stark, I know it’s probably hard to think about your daughter dating someone with a life as unpredictable as ours, but I don’t put anything above her. If I’m out on patrol, chances are, she’s hanging out on a rooftop with a walkie talkie telling me where to go. If I have to miss a date to take care of something, I take her with me. She’s my partner in all of this. I don’t leave her waiting around for a text back all night. She comes first.”

“Actually, “Vision began, “when I entered your room, it seemed as though Peter was going-“

“Do not finish that sentence, jumbo tampon.” You cut him off.

“You can trust me, Mr. Stark. You can trust us.” Peter said as he wrapped an arm around you. Tony looked between the two of you for a while but didn’t say anything.

“Please, daddy.” You whispered. Tony finally caved and smiled softly.

“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’m not gonna kill Peter. You have my blessing, underoos.” Tony said as he helped Peter off the floor.

“Really? You’re not gonna force us apart?” You asked hopefully as you wrapped your arm around Peters.

“I’m not.” Tony confirmed. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions. But if he breaks your heart, he’s getting turned inside out. At least for a day. I cannot compromise on that.”

“Deal!” You clapped your hands before hugging your dad.

“Hold up, do I get a say in that deal?” Peter questioned.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. After what Vision walked in on you doing with Tony’s kid, you’re lucky to be alive right now.” Bruce said as he patted Peter on the back. Tony frowned as he pulled out of the hug.

“Hold on, what exactly did Vision walk in on?” Tony asked. Peter motioned for everyone to keep their mouths shut as Tony looked around the room. When no one answered him, he looked at you expectingly.

“So.” You laughed nervously. “Dessert, anyone?”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr @loudthoughts-softspoken

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

sad, beautiful, tragic

distance, timing, breakdown, fighting

silence, the train runs off its tracks

kiss me, try to fix it

could you just try to listen?

hang up, give up

and for the life of us, we can get back

peter parker x reader!!

(treacherous part 2)

PLOT - in which peter parker tries to talk to his rival after multiple drunk make out sessions the previous night.

WARNINGS - sexual references, no smut, make out scenes, allusions to sexual activity, weed, smoking, kiss and makeup attitude

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“just talk to her, don’t be an arse” gwen smiled, swaying with the movement of the subway. the sun peeked through the windows as the train made its way out of a tunnel and closer to their destination.

“what exactly are you supposed to say to someone you made out with like, 3 times while drunk?? especially if you used to hate their guts”

“i don’t know, ‘sorry i hated you before, i just internalised my fetish for goth stoners as hatred- let’s make out some more’ or something-“ gwen joked, before being cut off by a frustrated peter.

“are you kidding me? she’s gonna spot us across the carriage any second now and i won’t have any idea what to say to her!”

y/n sat cross legged in her seat, reading some depressing book from the early 1900’s about some depressing characters, written by a depressed closeted gay man. she tucked a chunk of hair behind her ears before re-adjusting her headphones. “i bet she’s listening to fucking my chemical romance or korn or some shit,” peter chuckled as his eyebrows furrowed, gripping onto the hanging bars of the train carriage.

“nope, look on spotify,” gwen corrected. peter turned away from y/n to look over at gwen, his eyes drifting to the screen of her phone.

“it says she’s listening to… taylor swift?” she said, a confused expression painted on her face. peter jolted his head back in shock, overcome with anxiety. “aunt may loves taylor swift…” he murmured, the rustle of the train carriage pulling him away from gwen.

“let me see what song,” peter insisted as he gestured to see gwen’s phone. she passed it over to him, watching his face move as he read the title.

“sad, beautiful, tragic… i’m pretty sure that’s from red, right?” peter questioned. gwen shrugged her shoulders in response. “i don’t know. i’m more of a midnights and evermore type of girl” she replied. peter scrolled down to the lyrics of the song, his eyes widening and his lips pursing.

“gwen, i’m totally fucked”

y/n had slept on what had happened the previous night. spider-man saved her from getting robbed and gave her some very unhelpful advice. what the fuck would spider-man know anyways? he doesn’t get any bitches. y/n may have also ghosted peter, but who cares? y/n put her heart out on the table, for some reason expecting more from the person who constantly teased her everyday for 2 years. sure, she should’ve saw it coming, but she didn’t. which is why she was going to be as dramatic as possible.

this meant a new playlist. no more limp biskit; nobody cries to ‘break stuff’!! it was time to listen to the entire red album on repeat, along with ‘ultraviolence’ and elliott smith. y/n was fully ready to be a sad little bitch.

on monday morning, she scored a seat on the subways and started listening to her new playlist, putting on one particular taylor swift song on repeat while she read her sad little bitch book. she looked up for a split second to see peter and gwen talking.

‘oh, so he can make time to talk to gwen, but not the girl he snogged three times?’ y/n thought.

y/n turned up her volume and put away her book as she listened to the lyrics of the song. the train pulled up to the station within walking distance to her school and so she stood up. catching the eye of peter as she walked to the doors, she quickly averted her gaze and took a few steps back.

peter flinched at the sudden eye contact, turning his full body towards gwen. “gwen. do something” he anxiously muttered. gwen nodded, smiling innocently, before beginning to casually walk over to y/n.

“y/n! how’d that hangover treat you?” gwen asked, pulling in y/n for a comfortable hug. y/n smiled hesitantly and embraced the act of affection. “so, so badly,” she replied, thinking back to the incident that followed the day after the party.

“the hangover is the least of my troubles” she stated and she glanced over at peter, who was watching both of them. “oh, do you mean…” gwen asked as she gestured over to the lanky boy trailing behind them, walking onto the platform as the train doors opened.

“what? no! i was mugged,” y/n announced, arching her eyebrows. peter didn’t look surprised. y/n took note of this, feeling somewhat offended that he didn’t care.

“y/n! are you okay?? how did that happen?” gwen asked, completely and utterly shocked. peter walked over. “wait, yeah… are you okay y/n?” he asked, breaking out of his anxious state for one moment.

y/n sighed softly, rolling her eyes. “i’m fine, spider-man saved me and then gave me some very unhelpful advice.” she said as she pursed her lips, her eyes darting between gwen and peter. “he’s a total ride though- i hope he’s not like… 46 or something,” she continued. gwen chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand as her cheeks turned pink. “did you get to feel his abs?” she asked as the trio walked across queens to get to school.

“yeah, they were rock hard. i didn’t expect him to be so fit!” y/n exclaimed. peter tried to stifle his blush as they got closer to the school, blocking out their conversation.

as they entered the gates, gwen quickly walked towards her class, leaving the two alone.

“um, we have math-“

“i know, peter” y/n interrupted. her voice was cold and unemotional- a stark difference form her previous cheerful demeanour. this was the guy that she was squabbling with for years now… the guy that she also maybe had a few steamy dreams about as well. her preconceived notions about peter were contradicting with her fantasies and the realities of what happened over the weekend- causing her to spiral into a semi-depressed state of rage.

peter, on the other hand, knew exactly what he thought of y/n. he always thought that she was attractive, but a total arse. now, he found her being an arse super endearing. but that could have something to do with the fact that they made out 3 times and he almost touched her boobs.

the two walked in awkward silence to their math class, a strong tension in the air. they took their seats and sat painfully silently for an hour.

y/n tapped her pen on her notebook, not listening to a word the teacher was saying. ‘fuck it,’ she thought, ripping out a piece of paper.

she scribbled a few words down before passing it over to peter.

‘make up for ghosting me by skipping second period and hiding in the unisex bathrooms’

‘sure :)’

the unisex bathrooms were dimly lit, far away from the rest of campus. surrounded by unused classrooms. the unisex bathrooms were a prime hookup spot… but for y/n, it was her own personal hotbox.

she lit the end of her joint and put her lighter in her jacket pocket as she leaned against the bathroom wall. y/n took a drag as she stared at the wall. she took another short hit, before passing it to peter. he did the same, his legs crossed.

“so why didn’t you text me, dick face?” she started, crossing her arms. smoke escaped her lips as the talked, mesmerising peter.

“dick face?” peter repeated, stifling a grin as he shook his head.

“um… i guess i didn’t know what to say,” he replied, passing back the joint. y/n smiled awkwardly as she rolled her eyes. “classic parker…”

“well, do you know what to say now?” y/n asked, sliding down to the floor, head level with peter. he shrugged his shoulders. “kinda,” he muttered.

“are you gonna say it, mcslutty?”

“i don’t appreciate the name-calling, y/n.” he said irritably, his voice somewhat breathy.

“you ghosted me too, remember?” peter added, raising his eyebrows.

“yeah, but i was mugged!” she said defensively, opening her mouth in shock. “obviously i was too busy!”

peter laughed, covering his face. “fair point.”peter pursed his lips, looking down before taking another hit of the joint.

peter took a deep breath in, tapping the floor anxiously. “i really like you, y/n” peter averted his eyes. “i used the think i didn’t, but i was just lying to myself so i wouldn’t have to confront the fact that there’s actually nice stuff about you,” he’s smirked.

y/n chuckled. “what nice stuff?”

“your face, obviously. your musical skills, your rolling skills. you’re also really funny, and you’re so generous. you’re not nice to everyone, but you still help everyone- if that makes sense? but yeah… shit like that i guess,”

y/n smiled sincerely, slightly tilting her head to the side. “that’s pretty sweet, shithead”

it took them a whole 40 seconds before they started jamming their lips together, peter’s hands gripping y/n’s waist as she sat on top of his lap. her hands cupped his face gently, occasionally pulling a hand away and running it through his hair.

she pulled away for air, before continuing her attack on his lips, her hands trailing down his torso as she fiddled with his shirt. peter pulled away, looking up at her before her eyes drifting to her hands.

“what are you doing there?” he asked teasingly, his voice limited to a hoarse whisper.

she began to frantically kiss his neck, her hands still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “felt something hard. wondering if you’re ripped or just really horny.” she muttered breathily, one hand resting under his shirt as she caressed his torso, while the other hand gripped a bundle of his hair.

he looked as her curiously as she felt up his chest, watching her pull away with a look of shock and confusion. “peter? what the fuck?” she exclaimed, her hair messy and cheeks red.

“what? what’s wrong?” peter asked, panicked as his eyes drifted down to his pants, before meeting her eyes again. his face turned red, putting up his hands in surrender.

“hey, you were the one grinding against my-“

“no, you’re fully ripped!” she whispered, her eyes wide as her hand retracted from under his shirt. “jesus christ…” she muttered, lifting his shirt to take a peek.

peter burst out into a fit of dry laughter, tilting his head back and lightly hitting the wall of the bathroom stall.

“oh, yeah. that.” he said casually. y/n grumbled, standing up.

“right. i was not expecting that.” she huffed, her face completely red.

“anyways, i’m not fucking you in a hot-boxed bathroom stall at school. if you decide to stop being a little bitch and message me, maybe i’ll forgive you for ghosting me.” y/n proposed, leaning against the wall as she looked down at peter.

peter nodded, standing up. he opened the door, turning to face her. “yeah, i definitely won’t be ghosting you anytime soon. sorry about that, by the way.” he murmured.

“it’s fine. just as long as you send me a picture of your abs after school.” she demanded, her face completely serious as she looked peter up and down. peter nodded, his eyes wide.

she bit her lip, meeting his eyes once again. “seriously, they’re almost as good at spider-man’s.” she added, exiting the bathroom- leaving peter alone to deal with his thoughts.

“treacherous”

(any version) peter parker x reader

(rivals to lovers because that’s the best trope)

peter parker ends up being roped into coming to betty brants party, despite immensely disliking the person who urges him to come. the party sparks a strange realisation and challenges their previous thoughts and feelings towards one another.

warnings: straight people and guns and female pronouns and alcohol and swearing xx

“fuck off penis parker”

y/n turned her head away from her lab partner, dragging her hands across her face as she crossed her legs. peter rolled his eyes and rested his head in his hand. “whatever, it was just an idea,” he scoffed, scribbling something down in his note book. y/n furrowed her brows.

“are you fucking serious? a study on what causes ‘goth girls’ to become pot heads? that’s an obvious dig at me and i won’t stand for it”

“what do you suggest then, y/n?”

peter smirked, fiddling with his pencil as he looked up at y/n.

“maybe a study on what causes guys with tiny dicks to become nerdy virgins” y/n proposed, loudly closing her science book. “oh wait,” she continued. “i think we know the answer to that one already!”

peter parker folded his arms and leaned back into his chair. “you’re such an… interesting personality, y/n” he laughed as the bell rang.

the rest of the class quickly fled the scene, most uncomfortable by the two teenagers’ constant arguing. their shoes lightly tapped the ground, y/n seemingly faster than usual.

as she hurried to her locker, gwen stopped her. “you’re in a rush” she stated, leaning against the metal doors next to y/n as the other girl frantically put her books in her bag.

“i’ve got to do the groceries, make dinner and meet with the bank all within the next few hours so i can go to this stupid party you want me at, so i’m in a little bit of a rush i guess” y/n joked sarcastically, pushing a hand against her hair anxiously.

“i can help you out if you want?” gwen offered, walking away with y/n. y/n shook her head as she headed towards the subway with her friend. “honestly, it’s all good. it’ll only take me an hour or two anyways” she smiled, catching the eye of a familiar nerd waiting for the train to area.

y/n and gwen. turned to face peter. “are you coming to the party tonight?” gwen asked, leaning her head on y/n’s shoulder. peter pursed his lips in response. “i didn’t even know there was a party” he replied, turning off his phone. y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “that’s so… like you, peter” she chuckled as the subway arrived at their platform.

the three got into discussion as the doors opened, walking in and luckily finding seats. “are you still pissy about the goth-pothead comment?” peter asked, staring at the screen of his phone. y/n shook her head and arched his brows, turning to face peter. “i don’t give a flying fuck about that, i have the memory of a fish,” y/n replied.”i just liked teasing you” she smiled.

“you should come peter, it’s at betty brant’s house” gwen interrupted, hanging onto her school bag. peter chuckled, slightly shaking his head. “i’m not too sure about that one,” he replied. “parties have never really been my thing” gwen gasped and put her hand on her heart. “that’s so crazy! who could’ve known that the skater boy didn’t like parties” she joked playfully, holding onto the trains hand rail as it moved around.

“you should come, i’d love to see you as a drunken idiot” y/n smirked. peter gazed up at y/n, crossing his arms. “oh, i am not good at being drunk- i get all weird” peter muttered awkwardly, causing gwen and y/n to instantly light up. “you need to come now!” gwen laughed, covering her hand with her mouth. he shook his head, standing up. “i’ll think about it” he murmured reluctantly, slinging his bag over his shoulder at the sound of the train announcing his stop. “you better come, i wanna see you make an absolute fool of yourself” y/n teased, pushing peter lightly. peter looked back at y/n, pursing his lips and meekly waving goodbye to the two girls.

as he left, gwen turnt to y/n. “you know he’s into you, right?” she stated, taking peters old seat next to y/n. y/n chuckled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “very funny, gwen” she responded. she nodded her head, nudging her shoulder a bit. “he’s got a thing for emo girls, even ones he supposedly hates” gwen affirmed, smiling.

“i don’t care anyways, i couldn’t like a jerk like that”

“are you sure? you flirt with him every chance you get”

“no! that’s just banter, don’t get it twisted” y/n scoffed, standing up for her stop. “i’m gonna go run some errands before the party, see you then” she smiled. gwen nodded, waving goodbye.

- - -

running from the bank to the grocery store back to her house was a rather tiring routine, but she had to do it to make sure her siblings were all tended for before she even thought about enjoying herself.

while she was walking to the bank, she felt a pair of eyes staring daggers into the back of her head, but as soon as she turned around she found absolutely nothing to be afraid of. this had been happening much more than usual, causing herself to become more cautious than usual.

getting ready for the party, she felt the same fear she felt at the bank, but it was more so about what gwen had said before. to soothe her nerves, she called her friend and put the phone of speaker as she did her makeup.

“we’re gonna get pete so drunk tonight, i wanna know what he was talking about on the train” gwen laughed, causing y/n to subconsciously smile. “i wonder if he’s a funny drunk or one of those depressing ones with no filter” y/n responded, grabbing her keys and walking out of her bedroom.

she put her hand over the speaker of the phone and shouted out to her siblings. “i’ll be back in a few hours, call me if you need anything” she announced, heading out of the house as her siblings all said their goodbyes.

hopefully the night wouldn’t end in disaster.

- - -

“bottoms up!” gwen shouted, already hammered 50 minutes into the party. y/n, gwen and peter were all sat in betty’s spacious bathroom, close together with a bottle of vodka and a carton of apple juice. the three teens took their respective shots, each at different stages of drunkenness.

y/n sat back into the coldness of the empty bathtub with a bottle of beer in her right hand and a shot glass in the other. “i feel like my body doesn’t align with my brain” she cried dramatically. gwen turned to her friend, leaning against the cabinet underneath the sink. “how so babe?” she replied, popping every other letter she spoke. peter’s eyes moved over to y/n intrigued by her sentiment.

“i just feel like my boobs should be bigger!” she sulked, sitting up to face gwen and peter. gwen sympathetically arched her brows, cradling the vodka bottle. “no! you have great boobs…” she slurred as peter turned beetroot red and turned away from y/n, leaning against the bathroom wall.

“but what if i want double d’s??!!” she exclaimed, leaning back. peter leaned his head to the side. “for the record, i think your boobs are nice” he stated, clearly out of it. y/n and gwen were both taken back by this sudden comment. “uhhh, thanks?!” y/n stuttered, covering her face in embarrassment. “don’t think too much about it, weirdo” peter defended himself, “maybe if you weren’t such an emo you’d like them more”

gwen suddenly jolted up, as if something clicked. “y/n you’re right, he doesn’t have a filter when he’s drunk!” she smiled, turning to peter. y/n’s eyes lit up, mouth opening slightly. “i’d like to think i’m a very well held together drunk person” peter nodded his head, assuring himself. y/n shook her head, leaning over to pat peters shoulder. “i literally don’t understand a single word you said”

“well, this newfound information deserves a game of truth or truth” gwen suggested, taking another shot. peter refused at first, but he didn’t really have a choice in the matter anyways.

“peter, truth or truth?” gwen asked. peter took a while to think, tapping his chin. “i think i’ll take a wildcard here and say… truth” he reposed. “since when we’re you so observant of y/n’s boobs?” she asked, causing y/n to object. “that’s a weird question-“ she was cut off by peter answering almost instantly. “i am a very observant person, i see things” he justified, slurring his words. “but” he continued, “y/n is a pretty girl, despite her rude comments and scary makeup so i’m obviously gonna notice her nice boobs”

y/n tried to form a sentence but all could come out was a confused “thank you??”

after a few beats of time, she straightened her back and peeked over at peter. “someone wants to get into my pants” she sneered. peter threw up his hands defensively. “hey, no way! gross…” he muttered. “i’m just telling the truth, you’re the one making it weird”

gwen nodded her head in satisfaction. “okay, now you ask someone” she insisted, passing the bottle to peter. “okay, gwen… truth or truth?” he asked, taking a swift and instantly regretting it as the taste hit his mouth. “truth” she replied, curling her knees towards her chest. “what’s the weirdest secret you know about anyone at this party?” peter questioned. gwen took a few moments to think of something.

“betty is screwing the camera dude for her little morning announcements” she nonchalantly replied, shrugging her shoulders. y/n gasped. pulling at her hair slightly. “i called it!” she shouted.

the game continued, the questions getting weirder and more provocative as time went on.

“y/n, truth or truth?” betty asked, crossing her arms confidently. “truth” she replied.

“who’s the most fuckable person at school?” she smiled like a drunken sailor. y/n didn’t hesitate one bit, absolutely smashed. “peter” she whispered loudly, pointing at the boy who was now sat next to her in the bathtub.

peter’s eyes widened, frozen in place. “what?! why me?” he asked, chocking on his words. gwen gasped, grasping at the torso of her dress in shock. “you’re tall and you’re secretly ripped… and you’re awkward and nice but not to me which i find a little attractive” she muttered. “you’re a major dick with a terrible attitude- but i feel like if i was to do anything with anyone you’d be the nicest” she stated as her eyes fluttered.

peter was at an utter loss for words. “are you two into each other and just decided not to tell me?” gwen, cried, smiling as she laid back. “i don’t like peter, i just find myself being very, extremely attracted to him” y/n, bit the inside of her mouth. “despite his obvious and unavoidable flaws, of course” she continued. peter stared at her in shock, pushing his hair back. “honestly, i agree” he interjected. “i find myself thinking about y/n a lot, but i don’t like her” he said.

“that’s literally the definition of liking each other” gwen affirmed, drinking the last bit from the bottle. “i need to get more!” she shouted, standing up. “get something fruity” y/n pleaded, reaching out. “sure” gwen agreed. leaving the room.

moments passed, and quickly y/n moved towards peter. “do i like you, penis parker?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. “how am i supposed to answer that question” peter laughed, leaning into the movement.

“kiss me so i know if i like you” y/n demanded, jolting up and facing peter.

their faces were mere centimetres apart, they could feel the warmth of each others bodies.

“are you sure?” he asked, moving in a little closer.

“yes i’m sure, don’t be a pussy” she responded, placing her hands on peters shoulders.

suddenly, their lips made contact as their bodies intertwined. peter put his hands in her waist as he leaned further into the kiss.

the expression turned more passionate, but before they could continue the door opened suddenly.

“can you guys leave? it’s 2 am!” betty demanded, holding a trash bag filled with empty bottles and plastic cups.

the two jolted off each other, startled by her sudden entrance. “oh, shit-“ she clenched her teeth as she realised what the two were doing. “sorry, you’ve got 30 minutes to wrap… that… up” she hesitantly remarked as she walked backwards out of the doorframe and closed the door.

the two sat in silence for a few seconds.

“i can’t tell if that was a good idea or not” peter sighed, sinking into the floor of the bathtub. y/n closed her eyes. “i’m so confused” she muttered, covering her face. peter turned towards y/n again and moved the hands from her face before leaning into kiss her again. y/n returned the gesture, pulling herself into him.

“guys betty brant is kicking us out-“ gwen announced as she opened the door, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her “HOLY SHIT!” she shouted, gasping loudly. the two pushed off of each other again, moving to separate sides of the bathtub.

“umm… it’s not what it looks like?” y/n said, not even sounding convincing enough for herself. “no, it definitely is what it looks like” gwen nodded leaning over to let out an exhausted laugh. “i fucking called it!” she cheered, parading out of the bathroom.

y/n stood up, gesturing her hand out to peter so he could follow. “i should probably get an uber” she stated, stepping out of the bathtub as peter took her hand. he followed and nodded slightly. “me too to be honest, i don’t think i can drive” he laughed, stumbling a little.

the two exited out the bathroom and awkwardly walked outside the house together.

the cold air hit y/n’s face as she stared at her phone screen, waiting for her uber to arrive so she could get out of this awkward tension.

“do you wanna talk about what happened?” peter started, looking over at y/n. she looked back, noticing the large distance between the two. “no-yes, no??” she responded, putting her phone in her jacket pocket. “i’m gonna sleep on it, if that’s okay” she finally replied cohesively, fidgeting with her hands. peter nodded, hiding his hands in his jean pockets.

the uber pulled up to the sidewalk, announcing that the uber was for y/n. she took a step forward towards it before peter grabbed her hand and pulled her into one last kiss, sinking into the moment. y/n clinched onto him as if they’d never speak again, holding him closely.

she pulled away a few seconds later, taking a step backwards. “uh, i’ll see you later penis parker” she remarked, stepping inside of the car. peter waved as the car started and drive off with the girl he was snogging a few moments before. he took a deep breath in, holding his face. “what the fuck…” he muttered.

- - -

it had been more than 24 hours since the party and there was complete radio silence between both parties. peter was hunched over in his bed, staring at his phone as he yearned for a text from y/n ti meet up or something. it was already sunday night and they were supposed to sit next to each other for the first two periods in the morning.

to take his mind off the stress he was feeling, peter put on his suit and climbed out of his bedroom window.

he swung around the streets of queens for a few good minutes, taking in the cold air as it collapsed against the fabric of his suit. he wound up on the rooftop of the tallest building in sight, staring over the city streets. his eyes traced over every movement he could see, swinging his legs over the end of the building.

in the corner of his eye, he could see two figures standing in an alleyway nearby. suspicious of the situation, he cautiously swung closer to navigate the situation better.

“hand over the money, i know you have it” a booming voice announced from the distance, instantly alarming peter. moving closer, he could see that the figure responsible for the voice had a handgun pressed against the second figure.

quickly, peter swung towards the alleyway and dropped right behind the armed man. he punched him down almost instinctively and pressed the front of his body against the cold floor. “what do you think you’re doing, threatening people this late at night?” he asked, webbing the gun to the ground and holding the man’s hands behind his back. “the fuck?!” he shouted, muffled by his face smashed against the concrete. peter webbed his hands in place and stuck him to the ground before standing up and looking at the other figure.

he instantly recognised the girl in front of him, chocking out of pure shock and somewhat rage.

y/n?

“attacking a teenager? not cool, man” he sighed, quickly contacting the authorities and standing by y/n. she had tears in her eyes and was shaking harder than anyone peter had ever seen anyone shake before. “are you okay ms?” he asked, holding into her shoulders. she shook her head, sobbing quietly. “i’ll get you out of here” he stated, grabbing onto y/n and webbing the man to the floor once again, just in case.

he swung the two back the the top of the building as her tears wet the torso of peter’s suit. it took everything in her power to not kiss her again and hold onto her as tightly as possible.

he set her down, rubbing her back softly. “do you mind telling me what happened?” he asked, crouching down to her level as she sat on the floor of the building. she nodded, sobbing a little quieter.

“that- that was some weird stalk-stalker” she cried, trying to explain herself. “he was following me around all week because- because i’ve been going to th-the banks”

peter nodded slowly, trying not to rush her. “i think he though i had money… but i definitely don’t have- like any…” she sighed, drying her eyes. she bit the inside of her mouth. calming down a little. “you don’t need to worry about him anymore, he’s going to jail for a very long time” he reassured her.

soon enough, y/n started talking to the masked superhero about her week. “i’ve been having a lot of financial issues, and boy issues, and like… issues” she stated, laughing a little bit. peter’s ears pricked up. “boy issues?” he asked, instantly regretting it. so unprofessional he thought, internally judging himself. “oh yeah,” she laughed. “i don’t think you’d wanna hear about that, you’re a whole ass superhero” she smiled, shaking her head.

“i’m all ears” he reassured her, crossing his arms.

“well… there’s this boy who i used to really super dislike but we got drunk- like shitfaced drunk, and we kissed like three times and i liked all the times…” she frowned, covering her face. “but i’ve been busy so i accidentally ghosted him- but he’s been ghosting me too!” she argued with herself, perusing her lips. peter instantly filled with regret.

“it sounds like you two really like each other, maybe just be truthful to how you feel” peter suggested, fiddling with his hands. y/n nodded. “that’s probably a good idea” she agreed, standing up. “and stay away from banks for a while” he laughed, patting her in the back.

peter swung y/n home, making sure she was safe before heading back towards his bedroom for the night.

“what the fuck…” he muttered, collapsing into his bed.

im probably gonna do a part two cause im a little nerd xx

also i refuse to edit any of this so sorry if there’s mistakes lol

happy days 🫶

shower sex (smut/oneshot/tasm peter)

🂱︎ pairing: tasm peter parker x female reader

🂱︎ synopsis: exactly as the title says ;)

🂱︎ genres: SMUT, established relationship

🂱 warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT minors look away !!

🂱 notes: my first tasm peter fic ! (also do you guys prefer the banner of photos on top or a gif? lmk pleaasseee)

"Hey! Occupied" You said as you heard the bathroom doorknob click open.

A dirty, tired Peter then stumbled into the misty bathroom taking off his spidey suit.

"Sorry love, had a long day, I really wanna hop in the shower already." He said stepping in.

"Fine. I don't think we fit though." You said turning your back to Peter and lifting your head up, allowing the warm water to hit your face.

"I'm sure there's room for one more person in here" Whispers Peter in your ear. 

His hands go to your shoulders, and down your arms. He attaches his lips to your neck leaving a trail of love bites that will for sure still be there tomorrow

"Pete-- I'm t-tired -- I just wanna shower in peace--" You said barely able to get a word out as you felt his tongue swirl around  your sweet spot.

Your hands made his way to his hair. tugging slighty, as he continued to kiss down your neck and shoulders.

"What was that darling?  You want me to stop?" He said in between kisses.

Damn him. That nickname was your weakness and he knew it. Hearing it slide off his tongue made you weak in the knees, and definitely turned you on.

"Uggh Fuck you" You mumbled as he continued kissing your neck, his hands now massaging your breasts and playing with your nipples.

"With pleasure darling" He said turning you around to face him. You could see how hard he had already gotten, and his wet abs glistened in the light.

He connected his lips with yours hungrily, immediately pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your hands made it's way down to his abs, almost brushing the top of his member. But you brought your hand back up, and repeated the cycle.

"Don't tease me y/n" He said, his voice low and seductive.

He pushed you back onto the shower wall, and goosebumps filled your skin at the touch of the cold tile. He kissed down your neck once more, and went down to your breasts. His tongue circled your right nipple as his hand massaged the other one, and you threw your head back onto the wall moaning his name.

He connected your lips once more, his hands now making his way to where you needed him most. He played with your clit, circling it over and over again. You bit his lip hungrily, and he took that as a signal to insert two of his long fingers into your folds. You moaned loudly, and he started to pump in and out.

"You're already so wet, all for me love?" Peter whispered.

Peter continued to pump in and out till you were a moaning mess. 

"Peter I-- I'm gonna--"

He could tell you were close so he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean.

"Not just yet darling" He said. He then picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He positioned himself at your entrance, and you slowly let yourself sink into him.

"Fuck baby." You said, feeling the pain at your core.

He slowly started moving in and out, whilst kissing your neck to distract you from the pain.

"You're so fucking tight y/n. Fuck" He whispered. That alone could've sent you over the edge, but you held on a little bit longer.

He continued his thrusts, slowly getting faster and more needy. You tugged on his curls as he held and squeezed your ass tight. You bit into his shoulder, the feeling getting to much for you.

He felt your walls start to tighten around him, so her brought his fingers to your clit, massaging it once more.

"Cum for me baby." He whispered. And just like that, you came undone. You moaned loudly and felt the pleasure wash over you. You released on his dick as he continued thrusting into you, letting you ride out your high.

He set you back down on the floor, and you almost collapsed from exhaustion. You knelt on the wet floor and caught your breath.

"Y/n? Love, did I hurt you?" He asked his voice full of concern.

You looked up at him and your hands made it's way to his member, slowly pumping back and forth.

"Fuck y/n" Peter said throwing his head back into his shoulders.

You took him in your mouth, gliding back and forth on hid long hard dick. He held your hair and you took that as a signal to move faster, feeling his dick twitch inside your mouth. 

"Shit you're amazing" Peter said in between moans, before finally releasing into your mouth. You swallowed it all, and stood up from the floor.

Peter wiped the wet strands of hair away from your face, and cupped your cheek, pulling you into to a soft delicate kiss.

"Now, let's get you properly cleaned up shall we?" You say in between kisses.

I need inspo!! send me some fic or even blurb requests for peter <3

"And we were just having sex no I would never call it love" (smut/oneshot/mcu peter)

🂱︎ pairing: mcu peter parker x female reader

🂱︎ synopsis: You've fallen into being friends with benefits with Peter, but something aches in your heart every time he comes to see you for just sex.

🂱︎ genres: friends with benefits, little bit of angst, songfic, little bit of sweet fluff at the end

🂱 warnings: smutty smut smut (essentially just jumps right into it so I'm warning you now)

🂱 notes: inspired by the song "Sex" by Eden

You opened the door to Peter with dark eyes.

"I have a dinner so just make it quick—"

You were cut off by his lips pressing on to yours. It was messy, and heated. He pushed you onto the wall kicking the door closed. Your hands found his mess of curls, tugging slightly. He pulled away, taking your bottom lip with him. Pinning your hands to the wall on top of your head, showering your neck with open mouthed kisses.

You opened your eyes and your gaze fell on the clock on your wall.

6:14pm. My dates's at 8. God a date. I'm really here with Peter's tongue down my throat moments before I meet some guy to potentially be with. I could tell him to stop? No, he needs me right now. If this is the only way I can have him, then so be it.

Your thoughts ran wild as Peter spent no time in ripping your shirt open and tossing your bra to the side.

You moaned as he made contact with your sensitive spots, knowing your body like the back of his hand.

Your relationship wasn't always like this, Peter had been your friend for the longest time. You inevitably fell head over heels for him, but he'd never show signs of feeling the same. Till one night he had the bright idea to have sex. Just meaningless sex with a friend. Something had changed in him recently, he's bulked up drastically and he's shown signs of strength you've never noticed before. He had this aura of confidence he never had before, and when he needed release, he was primal and hungry. Hungry for you. He'd usually meet you late at night, to blow off some steam, usually on particularly hard days for him. And you'd let him. He was your friend after all right? You wanted to be there for him in any way you could.

The sex was great, don't get me wrong, but you never let yourself stay. You were afraid if you'd let the aftercare last a little too long, or fall asleep in his arms, you'd feel that throbbing pain in your heart, longing for something more.

You were in the bedroom now, his hips pounding mercilessly into yours as he chased his high. You bit into his shoulders, sure to leave marks later on but neither of you cared.

mark me as yours. I am yours y/n.

♪ 'Cause that girl took my heart, And I ain't want it back. No I'm laying down my cards ♪

Your moans filled Peter's mind like a symphony. He wished he could have you. All of you. He hated himself everyday for coming up with this situation, probably making you think all he wanted you for was your body. But he was tipsy, frustrated, and in that moment all he wanted was you. In any way he could get. If his drunk self had just spit out that he loved you instead of that he wanted to fuck you, maybe you could be his right now. But most importantly, he would be yours.

♪ 'Cause you said it meant nothing, and I should've kept my silence But I guess I'm too attached to my own pride to let you know ♪

The feeling of your walls clenching around him snapped him out of his thoughts. He watched as you moaned with your eyes closing shut and your hand gripping the bedsheet. He could watch you like this forever. But as usual, his time with you was never enough. You always seemed to rush away from him after you were both finished. He wanted to hold you, care for you after. He wanted to let you know that he wanted you for more than just this. But he knew you probably didn't want that. That maybe he ruined his chances of ever being with you by scaring you off, making you think he were some playboy who just fucked around with girls when he felt like it. So for now, he cherished what little time he had with you.

♪ That all these words meant nothing, and I've always been this heartless ♪

Your legs started shaking and his thrusts became sloppy as you both saw stars. His hand came to your clit to help you chase yours as he filled you up with his own.

He collapsed on top of you, both your bodies sweating from the pure bliss you had both experienced. Peter rolled off you, his eyes never leaving your heaving figure. Your eyes were shut, hair sticking to your forehead as your breathing started to slow. Peter turned on his side to wipe some hairs away from your face, and kissed your shoulder gently. You then stood up, not letting yourself fall victim to his loving touches.

♪ And we were just having sex no I would never call it love, But love... Oh no, I think I'm catching feelings ♪

Peter watched sadly as you started collecting his clothes and yours, running away from him as usual.

"Here. I have plans in an hour, so sorry to do this but you kinda have to go." You say handing him his clothes.

Peter took his clothes, but held on to your wrist, keeping you from turning away from him.

"Stay. Please, don't go." He pleads quietly.

♪ Just hold on, Remember why you said this was the last time? ♪

"Peter I—" You're cut off by him standing up, his hand coming to cup your cheek and as his thumb grazes your lips.

"You can't do this. You have to go Pete." You reply, even though you didn't want him to leave.

You gazed into each other's eyes, two halves of one soul, looking back at one another. You couldn't take it. A second later you would've leaned in and never have pulled away. So you turned away from him, putting your shirt over your head and sliding your underwear back on.

Peter did the same, but slowly as his mind ran with thoughts of frustration.

"Why do you run away from me." He asked.

"What are you talking about." You replied turning to him. He was in his jeans now, but still shirtless. You fought the urge to look his abs up and down.

"This. Is what I'm talking about. We have sex then what, you run off back home. You kick me out of your apartment— or heck you push me away and won't even let me touch you!" He replies gripping his shirt in his hand.

"Well what do you want Peter. You came up with this arrangement! We're not together, ok. We don't need to burden each other with the aftercare of sex. That's just not part of the deal!" You reply, your voice raising a little more than you would want it to.

"But why not! I hate how you think so low of me that you'd think I'd just want fuck you then leave. I want to take care of you." Peter says stepping closer to you.

"I can't— let you do that." You say in between struggled breaths.

"But why not. I hate this. I hate this y/n—"

"well I'm sorry I'm not enough for you then Peter." You reply interrupting him, tears brimming your eyes.

"NO— That's not what I meant! You are enough, you have no idea how much— I just. You're my— friend." He paused, careful to meet your eyes unaware of the sting in your heart with those words.

♪ So I guess it's... Let die to let live ♪

"I don't want to just... use you, like this. I care about you." Peter pleads. Your eyes are red, your lips in a tight line. He doesn't want you to cry. He doesn't want to hurt you like this. He doesn't mean to.

"I just can't let you do that." You reply, merely a whisper through the tears.

"And why not... why, y/n?" Peter's eyes are brimming with tears now too. The thought of the girl standing in front of him not letting him love her chipping away at his heart.

"It's just easier. That way... I'm not strong enough, to stay." You reply.

"And why is that, my love." He asks.

"Because then I might never leave you." You reply softly. Tears now falling down your face, mixing with the sweat of your earlier entanglement.

♪ And what's good, When both choices I've got have us staring down the barrel to the bullets I can't stop? ♪

"And what if I told you, it pains me every time to see you go." Peter replies, stepping even closer, your distance now matching the closeness from moments ago when he held your face in his hands.

"I fucked us up didn't I?" He whispers. You furrow your eyebrows slightly, confused at what he means.

♪ And so I stand off like indecision's Kevlar ♪

"If I could take back that night, where all I asked of you was sex. I would." He continues.

♪ 'Til this fear of feeling stops and I'm done. But you, No, I don't know how to forget you ♪

"I hate myself for making you think all I wanted you for was sex because— fuck y/n... I love you. Let me be there for you. Care for you! Just say the words, and I'm yours." His breath fans your face, as he scans your eyes for anything that would answer his question.

♪ 'Cause that girl took my heart ♪

A small smile creeps up on your face, and Peter mirrors this. You nod through some more tears, but this time happiness is what caused them.

"Yes?" He asks through his smile. All you can muster is another nod. He brings you in closer to his body once more, and kisses you for what feels like the first time. He picks you up and spins you around, earning a giggle from you. He sets you back down his hand coming to delicately hold your face once more.

"I love you so much y/n. I'm yours."

Exams (oneshot/mcu peter)

🂱︎ pairing: mcu peter parker x female reader

🂱︎ synopsis: Peter gets caught up studying for his exams.

🂱︎ genres: established relationship, fluff

🂱 warnings: none :) for my first fic I thought I'd keep it nice and fluffy

🂱 notes: my first fic on here! I've posted this ages ago on Wattpad (ew) but I think it deserves to be put up on here too :)

The door to Peter's bedroom creaks open as it reveals dozens of papers all over the floor, pencils scattered across his desk, a calculator for some reason webbed to the wall, but no Peter in sight.

You balanced the plate of newly baked cookies on one hand as you made his way across his room, using your other arm to balance yourself as you looked down on the floor trying not to step all over his notes.

"Peter?" You called out.

There was no answer but the sudden sound of a keyboard clicking from behind you. Nope, not from behind, on top of you.

You take a cookie and reach your arm up to the ceiling, and feel his hand touch yours and steal the cookie away.

"Are you gonna come down?" You asked finally looking up at your boyfriend, sitting cross legged on the ceiling, typing away on his laptop.

"Sorry darling, give me a second." He replied biting into the cookie, a few crumbs falling on your shoulder.

You brushed the crumbs of the hoodie of his you were wearing, and checked the time on your phone. It reads 6:12pm.

"I texted you I was on my way here, did you get the message?"

"Er--" He says pulling his phone out of his pocket, to see your message pop up on the screen.

"I guess I did, sorry, been preoccupied." He replies, absentmindedly putting his phone down (on the ceiling) only to have it fall down to you, with your reflexes quick enough to catch it before it made contact with the ground.

"You should get down here soon. Your head looks like it's ready to pop like a balloon." His head did in fact not look like it was about to pop, due to his spider-powers that allowed for him to comfortably remain upside down. You did however want to stress that it was about time he give himself a break. You make your way to his bed, putting his phone down on his side table.

"mhmm, in a minute. I think better up here. Maybe it has something to do with the blood flow to my brain or the lack of distractions on my ceiling." He replies still not having looked at you properly once since you got here.

"Peter?"

"Yes y/n." He replies

"What time do you think it is?" You add.

"Uh, 4:00." He replies.

"Wrong, it's almost 6:15 so I think it's about time you head back down here and let gravity do its job."

He finally looked at you, his brown hair falling every which way.

He sighs, and closes his laptop. You make your way under him once again, catching his laptop as he let it fall to your hands. He followed suit and jumped down, coming nose to nose distance to you.

"Hi." 

"Hi."

He lands a quick kiss on your nose. He stumbles, tripping over some pencils scattered around the floor.

"Falling for me are ya?" you tease.

"always." he replies.

You make your way to his bed, and he settles his pretty little head to rest on your stomach, your hands lacing around his brown curls.

"Ooft, should have probably come down sooner." He says suddenly breaking the peaceful silence.

"I figured, you were up there for like 2 hours?." You replied.

"4."

"4 what?" You asked

"I started at 2, I've been up there for 4 hours."

"PETER!"

"What? Like I said, I focus better up there."

"You have to take better care of yourself! Have you even had a drink of water since then?" You asked

"Uh, no..."

"Let me get you a glass then--"

"It's fine I'll get one myself." He replies getting off you. He reaches the door and turns the knob when the sound of the metal crunching under his hand bring your attention to him.

He releases the knob, only to find it crumpled like a piece of paper.

"Sorry, er... It happens when I'm tired and forget to control my strength." He adds shyly before exiting the room.

"you web-head." you reply. He chuckles and exits the room. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to check out what Peter's been working so hard on. 'Ew, calculus.' you think to yourself as you flip through his notes.

You hear Peter enter the room behind you, and he sets his glass down and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder and pressing his chest against your back.

"Ew, calculus right." he says, you chuckle lightly under your breath.

"my brain hurts." he hums into your hair.

"haha, I can tell." you reply going through one of the equations he couldn't seem to finish.

"mhmm" he replies tiredly, taking in the fresh scent of your shampoo.

"one of these pythagorean conjugates is wrong." you add suddenly.

"hm? No, I triple checked that." Peter replies.

"Nuh uh, you might've just read it wrong but this is meant to be cosine not cotangent." You add lifting up the paper to his eye line and pointing out his careless mistake.

"No. NO WAY!" He says pulling away from you and snatching the paper out of your hand.

"I KNEW SOMETHING ABOUT THAT WASN'T RIGHT!" He adds, one hand almost crumpling the paper and the other pulling at his already disheveled curls.

"Maybe you're just not as smart as you think, bug-boy." you reply laughing at his distressed state.

"No, I just have a genius girlfriend!" He drops the paper and picks you up by the waist and spins you around. Your laughter fills the room and that would've been enough to light up Peter's whole world. He set you down slowly and covered your face with soft kisses, leaving your mouth for last.

"Thank you." He adds, his eyes looking deep into yours.

"Not a problem my spider-man."

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧

Things between you and Peter change with the seasons. [17k] 

c: friends-to-lovers, hurt/comfort, loneliness, peter parker isn’t good at hiding his alter ego, fluff, first kisses, mutual pining, loved-up epilogue, mention of self-harm with no graphic imagery

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

Fall 

Peter Parker is a resting place for overworked eyes, like warm topaz nestled against a blue-cold city. He waits on you with his eyes to the screen of his phone, clicking the power button repetitively. A nervous tic. 

You close the heavy door of your apartment building. His head stays still, yet he’s heard the sound of it settling, evidence in his calmed hand. 

“Good morning!” You pull your coat on quickly. “Sorry.” 

“Good morning,” he says, offering a sleep-logged smile. “Should we go?” 

You follow Peter out of the cul-de-sac and into the street as he drops his phone into a deep pocket. To his credit, he doesn’t check it while you walk, and only glances at it when you’re taking your coat off in the heat of your favourite cafe: The Moroccan Mode glows around you, fog kissing the windows, condensation running down the inner lengths of it in beads. You murmur something to do with the odd fog and Peter tells you about water vapour. When it rains tonight, he says it’ll be warm water that falls. 

He spreads his textbook, notebook, and rinky-dink laptop out across the table while you order drinks. Peter has the same thing every visit, a decaf americano, in a wide brim mug with the pink-petal saucer. You put it down on his textbook only because that’s where he would put it himself, and you both get to work. 

As Peter helps you study, you note the simplicity of another normal day, and can’t help wondering what it is that’s missing. Something is, something Peter won’t tell you, the absence of a truth hanging over your heads. You ask him if he wants to get dinner and he says no, he’s busy. You ask him to see a movie on Friday night and he wishes he could. 

Peter misses you. When he tells you, you believe him. “I wish I had more time,” he says. 

“It’s fine,” you say, “you can’t help it.”

“We’ll do something next weekend,” he says. The lie slips out easily. 

To Peter it isn’t a lie. In his head, he’ll find the time for you again, and you’ll be friends like you used to be. 

You press the end of your pencil into your cheek, the dark roast, white paper and condensation like grey noise. This time last year, the air had been thick for days with fog you could cut. He took you on a trip to Manhattan, less than an hour from your red-brick neighbourhood, and you spent the day in a hotel pool throwing great cupfuls of water at each other. The fog was gone just fifteen miles away from home but the warm air stayed. When it rained it was sudden, strange, spit-warm splashes of it hammering the tops of your heads, your cheeks as you tipped your faces back to spy the dark clouds. 

Peter had swam the short distance to you and held your shoulders. You remember feeling like your whole life was there, somewhere you’d never been before, the sharp edges of cracked pool tile just under your feet. 

You peek over the top of your laptop screen and wonder if Peter ever thinks of that trip. 

He feels you watching and meets your eyes. “I have to tell you something,” he says, smiling shyly. 

“Sure.” 

“I signed us up for that club.” 

“Epigenetics?” 

“Molecular medicine,” he says. 

The nice thing about fog is that it gives a feeling of lateness. It’s still morning, barely ten, but it feels like the early evening. It’s gentle on the eyes, colouring the whole room with a sconced shine. You reach for Peter’s bag and sort through his jumble of possessions —stick deodorant, loose-leaf paper, a bodega’s worth of protein bars— and grab his camera. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m cataloguing the moment you ruined our lives,” you say, aiming the camera at his chin, squinting through the viewfinder. 

“Technically, I signed us up a few days ago,” he says. 

You snap his photo as his mouth closes around ‘ago’, keeping his half-laugh stuck on his lips. “Semantics,” you murmur. “And molecular medicine club, this has nothing to do with the estranged Gwen Stacy?”

“It has nothing to do with her. And you like molecular medicine.”

“I like oncology,” you correct, which is a sub-genre at best, “and I have enough work without joining another club. Go by yourself.” 

“I can’t go without you,” he says. Simple as that. 

He knew you’d say yes when he signed you up. It’s why he didn’t ask. You’re already forgiven him for the slight of assumption. 

“When is it?” you ask, smiling. 

—

Molecular medicine club is fun. You and a handful of ESU nerds gather around a big table in a private study room for a few hours and read about the newer discoveries and top research, like regenerative science and now taboo Oscorp research. It’s boring, sometimes, but then Peter will lean into your side and make a joke to keep you going. 

He looks at Gwen Stacy a lot. Slender, pale and freckled, with blonde hair framing a sweet face. Only when he thinks you’re not looking. Only when she isn’t either. 

—

“Good morning,” you say. 

Peter holds an umbrella over his head that he’s quick to share with you, and together you walk with heads craned down, the umbrella angled forward to fight the wind. Your outermost shoulder is wet when you reach the café, your other warm from being pressed against him. You shake the umbrella off outside the door and step onto a cushy, amber doormat to dry your sneakers. Peter stalks ahead and order the drinks, eager to get warm, so you look for a table. Your usual is full of businessmen drinking flat whites with briefcases at their legs. They laugh. You try to picture Peter in a suit: you’re still laughing when he finds you in the booth at the back. 

“Tell the joke,” he says, slamming his coffee down. He’s careful with yours. He’s given you the pink petal saucer from the side next to the straws and wooden stirrers. 

“I was thinking about you as a businessman.” 

“And that’s funny?” 

“When was the last time you wore a suit?” 

Peter shakes his head. Claims he doesn’t know. Later, you’ll remember his Uncle Ben’s funeral and feel queasy with guilt, but you don’t remember yet. “When was the last time you wore one?” he asks. “I don’t laugh at you.” 

“You’re always laughing at me, Parker.” 

The cafe isn’t as warm today. It’s wet, grimy water footsteps tracking across the terracotta tile, streaks of grey water especially heavy near the counter, around it to the bathroom. There’s no fog but a sad rattle of rain, not enough to make noise against the windows, but enough to watch as it falls in lazy rivulets down the lengths of them.

Your face is chapped with the cold, cheeks quickly come to heat as your fingers curl around your mug. They tingle with newfound warmth. When you raise your mug to your lips, your hand hardly shakes.

“You okay?” Peter asks. 

“Fine. Are you gonna help me with the math today?” 

“Don’t think so. Did you ask nicely?” 

“I did.” You’d called him last night. You would’ve just as happily submitted your homework poorly solved with the grade to prove it —you don’t want Peter’s help, you just wanted to see him. 

Looking at him now, you remember why his distance had felt a little easier. The rain tangles in his hair, damp strands curling across his forehead, his eyes dark and outfitted by darker eyelashes. Peter has the looks of someone you’ve seen before, a classical set to his nose and eyes reminiscent of that fallen angel weeping behind his arm, his russet hair in fiery disarray. There was an anger to Peter after Ben died that you didn’t recognise, until it was Peter, changed forever and for the worse and it didn’t matter —he was grieving, he was terrified, who were you to tell him to be nice again— until it started to get better. You see less of your fallen, angry angel, no harsh brush strokes, no tears. 

His eyes are still dark. Bruised often underneath, like he’s up late. If he is, it isn’t to talk to you. 

You spend an afternoon working through your equations, pretending to understand until Peter explains them to death. His earphones fall out of his pocket and he says, “Here, I’ll show you a song.” 

He walks you home. The song is dreary and sad. The man who sings is good. Lover, You Should’ve Come Over. It feels like Peter’s trying to tell you something —he isn’t, but it feels like wishing he would. 

“You okay?” you ask before you can get to your street. A minute away, less. 

“I’m fine, why?” 

You let the uncomfortable shape of his earbud fall out of your ear, the climax of the song a rattle on his chest. “You look tired, that’s all. Are you sleeping?” 

“I have too much to do.” 

You just don’t get it. “Make sure you’re eating properly. Okay?” 

His smile squeezes your heart. Soft, the closest you’ll ever get. “You know May,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to give you a short hug, “she wouldn’t let me go hungry. Don’t worry about me.” 

—

The dip into depression you take is predictable. You can’t help it. Peter being gone makes it worse. 

You listen to love songs and take long walks through the city, even when it’s dark and you know it’s a bad idea. If anything bad happens Spider-Man could probably save me, you think. New York’s not-so-new vigilante keeps a close eye on things, especially the women. You can’t count how many times you’ve heard the same story. A man followed me home, saw me across the street, tried to get into my apartment, but Spider-Man saved me. 

You’re not naive, you realise the danger of walking around without protection assuming some stranger in a mask will save you, but you need to get out of the house. It goes on for weeks. 

You walk under streetlights and past stores with CCTV, but honestly you don’t really care. You’re not thinking. You feel sick and heavy and it’s fine, really, it’s okay, everything works out eventually. It’s not like it’s all because you miss Peter, it’s just a feeling. It’ll go away. 

“You’re in deep thought,” a voice says, garnering a huge flinch from the depths of your stomach.

You turn around, turn back, and flinch again at the sight of a man a few paces ahead. Red shoulders and legs, black shining in a webbed lattice across his chest. “Oh,” you say, your heartbeat an uncomfortable plodding under your hand, “sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry? I scared you.”

“I didn’t realise you were there.” 

Spider-Man doesn’t come any closer. You take a few steps in his direction. You’ve never met before but you’d like to see him up close, and you aren’t scared. Not beyond the shock of his arrival. 

“Can I walk you to where you’re going?” Spider-Man asks you. He’s humming energy, fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot. 

“How do I know you’re the real Spider-Man?” 

After all, there are high definition videos of his suit on the news sometimes. You wouldn’t want to find out someone was capable of making a replica in the worst way possible. 

You can’t be sure, but you think he might be smiling behind the mask, his arms moving back as though impressed at your questioning. “What do you need me to do to prove it?” he asks. 

He speaks hushed. Rough and deep. “I don’t know. What’s Spider-Man exclusive?” 

“I can show you the webs?” 

You pull your handbag further up your arm. “Okay, sure. Shoot something.” 

Spider-Man aims his hand at the streetlight across the way and shoots it. He makes a severing motion with his wrist to stop from getting pulled along by it, letting the web fall like an alien tendril from the bulb. The light it produces dims slightly. A chill rides your spine. 

“Can I walk you now?” he asks. 

“You don’t have more important things to do?” If the bitterness you’re feeling creeps into your tone unbidden, he doesn’t react. 

“Nothing more important than you.” 

You laugh despite yourself. “I’m going to Trader Joe’s.” 

“Yellowstone Boulevard?” 

“That’s the one…” 

You fall into step beside him, and, awkwardly, begin to walk again. It’s a short walk. Trader Joe’s will still be open for hours despite the dark sky, and you’re in no hurry. “My friend, he likes the rolled tortilla chips they do, the chilli ones.” 

“And you’re going just for him?” Spider-Man asks. 

“Not really. I mean, yeah, but I was already going on a walk.” 

“Do you always walk around by yourself? It’s late. It’s dangerous, you know, a beautiful girl like you,” he says, descending into an odd mixture of seriousness and teasing. His voice jumps and swoons to match. 

“I like walking,” you say. 

Spider-Man walking is a weird thing to see. On the news, he’s running, swinging, or flying through the air untethered. You’re having trouble acquainting the media image of him with the quiet man you’re walking beside now.

”Is everything okay?” he asks. “You seem sad.” 

“Do I?” 

“Yeah, you do.” 

“Maybe I am sad,” you confess, looking forward, the bright sign of Trader Joe’s already in view. It really is a short walk. “Do you ever–” You swallow against a surprising tightness in your throat and try again, “Do you ever feel like you’re alone?” 

“I’m not alone,” he says carefully.

“Me neither, but sometimes I feel like I am.” 

He laughs quietly. You bristle thinking you’re being made fun of, but the laugh tapers into a sad one. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world,” he says. “Even here. I forget that it’s not something I invented.” 

“Well, I guess being a hero would feel really lonely. Who else do we have like you?” You smile sympathetically. “It must be hard.” 

“Yeah.” His head tips to the side, and a crash of glass rings in the distance, crunching, and then there’s a squeal. It sounds like a car accident. Spider-Man goes tense. “I’ll come back,” he says. 

“That’s okay, Spider-Man, I can get home by myself. Thank you for the protection detail.” 

He sprints away. In half a second he’s up onto a short roof, then between buildings. It looks natural. It takes your breath away. 

You buy Peter’s chips at Trader Joe’s and wait for a few minutes at the door, but Spider-Man doesn’t come back. 

—

I don’t want to study today, Peter’s text says the next day. Come over and watch movies? 

The last handholds of your fugue are washed away in the shower. You dab moisturiser onto your face and neck and stand by the open window to help it dry faster, taking in the light drizzle of rain, the smell of it filling your room and your lungs in cold gales. You dress in sweatpants and a hoodie, throw on your coat, and stuff the rolled tortilla chips into a backpack to ferry across the neighbourhood. 

Peter still lives at home with his Aunt May. You’d been in awe of it when you were younger, Peter and his Aunt and Uncle, their home-cooked family dinners, nights spent on the roof trying to find constellations through light pollution, stretched out together while it was warm enough to soak in your small rebellion. Ben would call you both down eventually. When you’re older! he’d always promise. 

Peter’s waiting in the open door for you. He ushers you inside excitedly, stripping you out of your coat and forgetting your wet shoes as he drags you to the kitchen. “Look what I got,” he says. 

The Parker kitchen is a big, bright space with a chopping block island. The counters are crowded by pots, pans, spices, jams, coffee grounds, the impossible drying rack. There’s a cross-stitch about the home on the microwave Ben did to prove to May he could still see the holes in the aida. 

You follow Peter to the stove where he points at a ceramic Dutch oven you’ve eaten from a hundred times. “There,” he says. 

“Did you cook?” you ask. 

“Of course I didn’t cook, even if the way you said that is offensive. I could cook. I’m an excellent chef.” 

“The only thing May’s ever taught you is spaghetti and meatballs.” 

“Hope you like marinara,” he says, nudging you toward the stove. 

You take the lid off of the Dutch oven to unveil a huge cake. Dripping with frosting, only slightly squashed by the lid, obviously homemade. He’s dotted the top with swirls of frosting and deep red strawberries. 

“It’s for you,” he says casually. 

“It’s not my birthday.” 

“I know. You like cake though, don’t you?” 

You’d tell Peter you liked chunks of glass if that was what he unveiled. “Why’d you make me a cake?” 

“I felt like you deserved a cake. You don’t want it?” 

“No, I want it! I want the cake, let’s have cake, we can go to 91st and get some ice cream, it’ll be amazing.” You don’t bother trying to hide your beaming smile now, twisting on the spot to see him properly, your hands falling behind your back. “Thank you, Peter. It’s awesome. I had no idea you could even– that you’d even–” You press forward, smushing your face against his chest. “Wow.” 

“Wow,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. He angles his head to nose at your temple. “You’re welcome. I would’ve made you a cake years ago if I knew it was gonna make you this happy.” 

“It must’ve taken hours.” 

“May helped.” 

“That makes much more sense.” 

“Don’t be insolent.” Peter squeezes you tightly. He doesn’t let go for a really long time. 

He extracts the cake from the depths of the Dutch oven and cuts you both a slice. He already has ice cream, a Neapolitan box that he cuts into with a serrated knife so you can each have a slice of all three flavours. It’s good ice cream, fresh for what it is and melting in big drops of cream as he gets the couch ready.

“Sit down,” he says, shoving the plates with his strangely great balance onto the coffee table. “Remote’s by you. I’m gonna get drinks.” 

You take your plate, carving into the cake with the end of a warped spoon, its handle stamped PETE and burnished in your grasp. The crumb is soft but dense in the best way. The ganache between layers is loose, cake wet with it, and the frosting is perfect, just messy. You take another satisfied bite. You’re halfway through your slice before Peter makes it back. 

“I brought you something too, but it’s garbage compared to this,” you say through a mouthful, hand barely covering your mouth. 

Peter laughs at you. “Yeah, well, say it, don’t spray it.” 

“I guess I’ll keep it.” 

“Keep it, bub, I don’t need anything from you.” 

He doesn’t say it the way you’re expecting. “No,” you say, pleased when he sits knee to knee, “you can have it. S’just a bag of chips from Trader–”

“The rolled tortilla chips?” he asks. You nod, and his eyes light up. “You really are the best friend ever.” 

“Better than Harry?” 

“Harry’s rich,” Peter says, “so no. I’m kidding! Joking, come here, let me try some of that.” 

“Eat your own.” 

Peter plays a great host, letting you choose the movies, making lunch, ordering takeout in the evening and refusing to let you pay for it. This isn’t that out of character for Peter, but what shocks you is his complete unfiltered attention. He doesn’t check his phone, the tension you couldn’t name from these last few weeks nowhere to be felt. You’re flummoxed by the sudden change, but you missed him. You won’t look a gift horse in the mouth; you won’t question what it is that had Peter keeping you at arm’s length now it’s gone.

To your annoyance, you can’t stop thinking about Spider-Man. You keep opening your mouth to tell Peter you talked to him but biting your tongue. Why am I keeping it a secret? you wonder. 

“Have something to tell you.” 

“You do?” you ask, reluctant to sit properly, your feet tucked under his thigh and your body completely lax with the weight of the Parker throw. 

“Is that surprising?” 

“Is that a trick question?” 

“No. Just. I’ve been not telling you something.” 

“Okay, so tell me.” 

Peter goes pink, and stiff, a fake smile plastered over his lips. “Me and Gwen, we’re really done.” 

“I know, Pete. She broke up with you for reasons nobody felt I should be enlightened right after graduation.” Your stomach pangs painfully. “Unless you…”

“She’s going to England.” 

“She is?” 

“Oxford.” 

You struggle to sit up. “That sucks, Peter. I’m sorry.” 

“But?” 

You find your words carefully. “You and Gwen really liked each other, but I think that–” You grow in confidence, meeting his eyes firmly. “That there’s always been some part of you that couldn’t actually commit to her. So. I don’t know, maybe some distance will give you clarity. And maybe it’ll break your heart, but at least then you’ll know how you really feel, and you can move forward.” You avoid telling him to move on. 

“It wasn’t Gwen,” he says, which has a completely different meaning to the both of you. 

“Obviously, she’s the smartest girl I’ve ever met. She’s beautiful. Of course it’s not her fault,” you say, teasing.

“Really, that you ever met?” Peter asks. 

“She’s the best girl you were ever gonna land.“ 

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.” After a few more minutes of quiet, he says, “I think we were done before. I just hadn’t figured it out yet. Something wasn’t right.” 

“You were so back and forth. You’re not mean, there must’ve been something stopping you from going steady,” you agree. “You were breaking up every other week.”

“I know,” he whispers, tipping his head against the back couch. 

“Which, it’s fine, you don’t–” You grimace. “I can’t talk today. Sorry. I just mean that it’s alright that you never made it work.” You worry that sounds plainly obvious and amend, “Doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re never a bad person, Peter.” 

“I know. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You don’t need me to tell you.” 

“It’s nice, though. I like when you tell me stuff. I want all of your secrets.” 

You should say Good, because I have something unbelievable to tell you, and I should’ve said it the moment I got home. 

Good, because last night I met the bravest man in New York City, and he walked me to the store for your chips. 

Good, because I have so much I’m keeping to myself.

You ruffle his hair. Spider-Man goes unmentioned. 

— 

He visits with a whoop. You don’t flinch when he lands —you’d heard the strange whip and splat of his webs landing nearby. 

“Spider-Man,” you say. 

“What’s that about?” 

“What?” 

“The way you said that. You laughed.” Spider-Man stands in spandexed glory before you, mask in place. He’s got a brown stain up the side of his thigh that looks more like mud than blood, but it’s not as though each of his fights are bloodless. They’re infamously gory on occasion.

“Did you get hurt?” you ask. You’re worried. You could help him, if he needs it. 

“Aw, this? That’s a scratch. That’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse from that stray cat living outside of 91st.” 

You look at him sharply. 91st is shorthand for 91st Bodega, and it’s not like you and Peter made it up, but suddenly, the man in front of you is Peter. The way he says it, that unique rhythm. 

Peter’s not so rough-voiced, you argue with yourself. Your Peter speaks in a higher register, dulcet often, only occasionally sarcastic. Spider-Man is rough, and cawing, and loud. Spider-Man acts as though the ground is a suggestion. Peter can’t jump off the second diving board at the pool. Spider-Man rolls his shoulders back in front of you with a confidence Peter rarely has. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Sorry. You just reminded me of someone.” 

His voice falls deeper still. “Someone handsome, I hope.” 

You take a small step around him, hoping it invites him to walk along while communicating how sorely you want to leave the subject behind. When he doesn’t follow, you add, “Yes, he’s handsome.” 

“I knew it.”

“What do you look like under the mask?”

Spider-Man laughs boisterously. “I can’t just tell you that.” 

“No? Do I have to earn it?” 

“It’s not like that. I just don’t tell anyone, ever.” 

“Nobody in the whole world?” you ask. 

The rain is spitting. New York lately is cold cold cold, little in the way of sunshine and no end in sight. Perhaps that’s all November’s are destined to be. You and Spider-Man stick to the inside of the sidewalk. Occasionally, a passerby stares at him, or calls out in Hello, and Spider-Man waves but doesn’t part from you. 

“Tell me something about you and I’ll tell you something about me,” Spider-Man says. “I’ll tell you who knows my identity.” 

“What do you want to know about me?” you ask, surprised. 

“A secret. That’s fair.” 

“Hold on, how’s that fair?” You tighten your scarf against a bitter breeze. “What use do I have for the people who know who you are? That doesn’t bring me any closer to the truth.” 

“It’s not about who knows, it’s about why I told them.” Spider-Man slips around you, forcing you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk as a car pulls past you all too quickly and sends a sheet of dirty rainwater up Spider-Man’s side. He shakes himself off. “Jerk!” he shouts after the car. 

“My secrets aren’t worth anything.”

“I doubt that, but if that’s true, that makes it a fair trade, doesn’t it?” 

He sounds peppy considering the pool of runoff collecting at his feet. You pick up your pace again and say, “Alright, useless secret for a useless secret.” 

You think about all your secrets. Some are odd, some gross. Some might make the people around you think less of you, while others would surely paint you in a nice light. A topaz sort of technicolor. But they aren’t useless, then, so you move on. 

“Oh, I know. I hate my major.” You grin at Spider-Man. “That’s a good one, right? No one else knows about that.” 

“You do?” Spider-Man asks. His voice is familiar, then, for its sympathy. 

“I like science, I just hate math. It’s harder than I thought it would be, and I need so much help it makes me hate the whole thing.” 

Spider-Man doesn’t drag the knife. “Okay. Only three people know who I am under the mask. It was four, briefly.” He clears his throat. “I told one person because I was being selfish and the others out of necessity. I’m trying really hard not to tell anybody else.”

“How come?” 

“It just hurts people.” 

You linger in a gap of silence, not sure what to say. A handful of cars pass you on the road. 

“Tell me another one,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“I don’t know, just tell me one.” 

“How do I know you aren’t extorting me for something?” You grin as you say it, a hint of flirtation. “You’ll know my face and my secrets and even if you tell me a really gory juicy one, I have no one to tell and no name to pair it with.” 

“I’m not showing you anything,” he warns, teasing, sounding so awfully like Peter that your heart trips again, an uneven capering that has you faltering in the street. 

Peter’s shorter, you decide, sizing him up. His voice sounds similar and familiar but Peter doesn’t ask for secrets. He doesn’t have to. (Or, he didn’t have to, once upon a time.) 

“Where are you going?” Spider-Man asks. 

“Oh, nowhere.” 

“Seriously, you’re out here walking again for no reason?” 

“I like to walk. It’s not like it’s dark out yet.” You’re not far at all from Queensboro Hill here. Walking in any direction would lead you to a garden —Flushing Meadows, Kew Gardens, Kissena Park. “Walk me to Kissena?” you ask. 

“Sure, for that secret.” 

You laugh as Spider-Man takes the lead, keeping time with him, a natural match of pace. It’s exciting that Spider-Man of all people wants to know one of your useless secrets enough to ask you twice. The attention of it makes searching for one a matter of how fast you can find one rather than a question of why you’d want to. It slips out before you can think better of it. 

“I burned my wrist a few days ago on a frying pan,” you confess, the phantom pain of the injury an itch. “It blistered and I cried when I did it, but I haven’t told anyone about it.” 

“Why not?” he asks. 

He shouldn’t use that tone with you, like he’s so so sorry. It makes you want to really tell him everything. How insecure you feel, how telling things feels like asking for someone to care, and half the time they don’t, and half the time you’re embarrassed. 

You walk past the bakery that demarcates the beginning of Kissena Park grounds across the way. “I didn’t think about it at first. I’m used to keeping things to myself. And then I didn’t tell anyone for so long that mentioning it now wouldn’t make sense. Like, bringing it up when it’s a scar won’t do much.” It’s a weak lie. It comes out like a spigot to a drying up tree. Glugs, fat beads of sound and the pull to find another thing to say.

“It was only a few days ago, right? It must still hurt. People want to know that stuff.” 

“Maybe I’ll tell someone tomorrow,” you say, though you won’t. 

“Thanks for telling me.”

The humour in spilling a secret like that to a superhero stops you from feeling sorry for yourself. You hide your cold fingers in your coat, rubbing the stiff skin of your knuckles into the lining for friction-heat. The rain has let up, wind whipping empty but brisk against your cheeks. Your lips will be chapped when you get home, whenever that turns out to be. 

“This is pretty far from Trader Joe’s,” he comments, like he’s read your mind. 

“Just an hour.” 

“Are you kidding? It’s an hour for me.” 

“That’s not true, Spider-Man, I’ve seen those webs in action. I still remember watching you on the News that night, the cranes. I remember,” —you try to meet his eyes despite the mask— “my heart in my throat. Weren’t you scared?”

“Is that the secret you want?” he asks. 

“I get to choose?” 

Spider-Man throws his gaze around, his hand behind his head like he might play with his hair. You come to a natural stop across the street from Kissena Park’s playground. Teenagers crowd the soft-landing floor, smaller children playing on the wet rungs of the climbing frame. 

“If you want to,” he says. 

“Then yeah, I want to know if you were scared.” 

“I didn’t haveI time to be scared. Connors was already there, you know?” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it before. I wasn’t scared of the height, if that’s what you mean. I already had practice by then, and I knew I had to do it. Like, I didn’t have a choice, so I just did it. I had to save the day, so I did.” 

“When they lined up the cranes–”

“It felt like flying,” Spider-Man interrupts. 

“Like flying.”

You picture the weightlessness, the adrenaline, the catch of your weight so high up and the pressure of being flung between the next point. The idea that you have to just do something, so you do. 

“That’s a good secret.” You offer a grateful smile. “It doesn’t feel equal. I burned myself and you saved the city.” 

“So tell me another one,” he says. 

—

Maybe you started to fall for Peter after his Uncle Ben passed away. Not the days where you’d text him and he’d ignore you, or the days spent camping outside of his house waiting for him to get home. It wasn’t that you couldn’t like him, angry as he was; there’s always been something about his eyes when he’s upset that sticks around. You loathe to see him sad but he really is pretty, and when his eyelashes are wet and his mouth is turned down, formidable, it’s an ache. A Cabanel painting, dramatic and dark and other. 

It was after. When he started sending Gwen weird smiles and showing up to the movies exhilarated, out of breath, unwilling to tell you where he’d been. Skating, he’d always say. Most of the time he didn’t have his skateboard. 

You’d only seen them kiss once, his hand on her shoulder curling her in, a pang of heat. You were curdled by jealousy but it was more than that. Peter was tipping her head back, was kissing her soundly, a fierceness from him that made you sick to think about. You spent weeks afterwards up at night, tossing, turning, wishing he’d kiss you like that, just once, so you could feel how it felt to be completely wrapped up in another person. 

You’d always held out for Peter, in a way. It was more important to you that he be your friend. You were young, and love had been a far off thing, and then one day you suddenly wanted it. You learned just how aching an unrequited love could be, like a bruise, where every time you saw Peter —whether it be alone or with Gwen, with anyone— it was like he knew exactly where to poke the bruise. Press the heel of his hand and push. The worst is when he found himself affectionate with you, a quick clasp of your cheek in his palm as he said goodbye. Nights spent in his twin bed, of course you’ll fit, of course you couldn’t go home, not this late, May won’t care if we keep the door open —the suggestion that the door being closed might’ve meant something. His sleeping arm furled around you. 

Now you’re nearing the end of your second semester at ESU, Gwen is going to England at the end of the year, and Peter hasn’t tried to stop her, but he’s still busy. 

“Whatever,“ you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not mad at Peter, you just miss him. Thinking about him all the time won’t change a thing. “It’s fine.” 

“I’d hope so.” 

You swing around. “Don’t do that!”

Spider-Man looks vaguely chastened, taking a step back. “I called out.” 

“You did?” 

“I did. Hey, miss, over there! The one who doesn’t know how to get a goddamn taxi!” 

“I like to walk,” you say. 

“Yeah, so you’ve said. Have you considered that all this walking is bad for you? It’s freezing out, Miss Bennett!” 

“It’s not that bad.” You have your coat, a scarf, your thermal leggings underneath your jeans. “I’m fine.” 

“What’s wrong with staying at home?” 

“That’s not good for you. And you’re one to talk, Spider-Man, aren’t you out on the streets every night? You should take a day off.” 

“I don’t do this every night.” 

“Don’t you get tired?”

Spider-Man’s eyelets seem to squint, his mock-anger effusive as he crosses his arms across his chest. “No, of course not. Do I look like I get tired?” 

“I don’t know. You’re in a full suit, I can’t tell. I guess you don’t… seem tired. You know, with all the backflips.” 

“Want me to do one?” 

“On command?” You laugh. “No, that’s okay. Save your strength, Spider-Man.” 

“So where are you heading today?” he asks. 

There’s a slip of skin peeking out against his neck. You’re surprised he can’t feel the cold there, stepping toward him to point. “I can see your stubble.” 

He yanks his mask down. “Hasty getaway.” 

“A getaway, undressed? Spider-Man, that’s not very gentlemanly.” 

You start to walk toward the Cinemart. Spider-Man, to your strange pleasure, follows. He walks with considerable casualness down the sidewalk by your left, occasionally letting his head turn to chase a distant sound where it echoes from between high-rises and along the busy street. It’s cold and dark, but New York is hectic no matter what, even the residential areas. (Is there such a thing? The neighbourhoods burst with small businesses and backstreet sales, no matter the time.)

“Luckily for you, crime is slow tonight,” he says. 

“Lucky me?” You wonder if your acquainted vigilante flirts with every girl he stalks. “You realise I’ve managed to get everywhere I’m going for the last two decades without help?” 

“I assume there was more than a little help during that first decade.” 

“That’s what you think. I was a super independent toddler.” 

Spider-Man tips his head back and laughs, but that laugh is quickly squashed with a cough. “Sure you were.” 

“Is there a reason you’re escorting me, Spider-Man?” you ask. 

“No. I– I recognised you, I thought I’d say hi.” 

“Hi, Spider-Man.” 

“Hi.” 

“Can I ask you something? Do you work?” 

Spider-Man stammers again, “I– yeah. I work. Freelance, mostly.” 

“I was wondering how you fit all the crime fighting into your life, is all. University is tough enough.” You let the wind bat your scarf off of your shoulder. “I couldn’t do what you do.” 

“Yeah, you could.” 

He sounds sure. 

“How would you know?” you ask. “Maybe I’m awful when you’re not walking me around. I hate New York. I hate people.” 

“No, you don’t. You’re not awful. Don’t ask me how I know, ‘cos I just know.” 

You try not to look at him. If you look at him, you’re gonna smile at him like he hung the moon. “Well, tonight I’m going to be dreadfully selfish. My friend said he’d buy my movie ticket and take me out for dinner, a real dinner, the mac and cheese with imitation lobster at Benny’s. Have you tried that?” 

Spider-Man takes a big step. “Tonight?” he asks. 

“Yep, tonight. That’s where I’m going, the Cinemart.” You frown at his hand pressing into his stomach. “Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna throw up.” 

“I can hear– something. Someone’s crying. I gotta go, okay? Have fun at the movies, okay?” He throws his arm up, a silken web shooting from his wrist to the third floor of an apartment complex. “Bye!” he shouts, taking a running jump to the apartment, using his web as an anchor. He flings himself over the roof. 

Woah, you think, warmth filling your cold cheeks, the tip of your nose. He’s lithe.  

Peter arrives ten minutes late for the movie, which is half an hour later than you’d agreed to meet. 

“Sorry!” he shouts, breathless as he grabs your hands. “God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. You should beat me up. I’m sorry.” 

“What the fuck happened?” you ask, not particularly angry, only relieved to see him with enough time to still catch the movie. “You’re sweating like crazy, your hair’s wet.” 

“I ran all the way here, Jesus, do I smell bad? Don’t answer that. Fuck, do we have time?” 

You usher Peter inside. He pays for the tickets with hands shaking and you attempt to wipe the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve. “You could’ve called me,” you say, content to let him grab you by the arm and race you to the screen doors, “we could’ve caught the next one. Why were you so late, anyways? Did you forget?” 

“Forget about my favourite girl? How could I?” He elbows open the doors to let you enter first. “Now shh,” he whispers, “find the seats, don’t miss the trailers. You love them.” 

“You love them–”

“I’ll get popcorn,” he promises, letting the door close between you. 

You’re tempted to follow, fingers an inch from the handle. 

You turn away and rush to find your seats. Hopefully, the popcorn line is ten blocks long, and he spends the night punished for his wrongdoing. My favourite girl. You laugh nervously into your hand. 

—

Winter 

Spider-Man finds you at least once a week for the next few weeks. He even brings you an umbrella one time, stars on the handle, asking you rather politely to go home. He offers to buy you a hot dog as you’re walking past the stand, takes you on a shortcut to the convenience store, and helps you get a piece of gum off of your shoe with a leaf and a scared scream. He’s friendly, and you’re getting used to his company. 

One night, you’re almost home from Trader Joe’s, racing in the pouring rain when a familiar voice calls out, “Hey! Running girl! Wait a second!” 

Him, you think, as ridiculous as it sounds. You don’t know his name, but Spider-Man’s a sunny surprise in a shitty, wet winter, and you turn to the sound with a grin.

He jogs toward you. 

You feel the world pause, right in the centre of your throat. All the air gets sucked out of you. 

“Hey, what are you doing out here? Did you get my texts?” 

You blink as fat rain lands on your face. 

“You okay?” Peter asks, Peter, in a navy hoodie turning black in the rain and a brown corduroy jacket. It’s sodden, hanging heavily around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go,” —he takes your hand and pulls until you begin to speed walk beside him— “it’s freezing!” 

“Peter–”

“Jesus Christ!” 

“Peter, what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice an echo as he drags you into the foyer of your apartment building. 

Rain hammers the door as he closes it, the windows, the foyer too dark to see properly. 

“I wanted to see you. Is that allowed?” 

“No.” 

Peter takes your hand. You look down at it, and he looks down in tandem, and it is decidedly a non-platonic move. “No?” he asks, a hair’s width from murmuring. 

“Shit, my groceries are soaked.” 

“It’s all snacks, it’s fine,” he says, pulling you to the stairs. 

You rush up the steps together to your floor. Peter takes your key when you offer it, your own fingers too stiff to manage it by yourself, and he holds the door open for you again to let you in. 

Your apartment is a ragtag assortment to match the one next door, old wooden furniture wheeled from the street corners they were left on, thrifted homeward and heavy blankets everywhere you look. You almost slip getting out of your shoes. Peter steadies you with a firm hand. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the hook, prying the damp hoodie over his head and exposing a solid length of back that trips your heart as you do the same. 

“Sorry I didn’t ask,” Peter says. 

“What, to come over? It’s fine. I like you being here, you know that.” 

All your favourite days were spent here or at Peter’s house, in beds, on sofas, his hair tickling your neck as credits run down the TV and his breath evens to a light snore. You try to settle down with him, changing into dry clothes, his spare stuff left at the bottom of your wardrobe for his next inevitable impromptu visit. You turn on the TV, letting him gather you into his side with more familiarity than ever. Rain lays its fingertips on your window and draws lazy lines behind half-turned blinds. You rest on the arm and watch Peter watch the movie, answering his occasional, “You okay?” with a meagre nod. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks eventually. “You’re so quiet.” 

Your hand over your mouth, you part your marriage and pinky finger, marriage at the corner, pinky pressed to your bottom lip, the flesh chapped by a season of frigid winds and long walks. “‘M thinking,” you say. 

“About?” 

About the first night in your new apartment. You got the apartment a couple of weeks before the start of ESU. Not particularly close to the university but close to Peter, your best, nicest friend. You met in your second year of High School, before Peter got contacts, ‘cos he was good at taking photographs and you were in charge of the school newspapers media sourcing. You used to wait for Peter to show up ten minutes late like clockwork, every week. And every week he’d barge into the club room and say, “Fuck, I’m sorry, my last class is on the other side of the building,” until it turned into its own joke. 

Three years later, you got your apartment, and Peter insisted you throw a housewarming party even if he was the only person invited. 

“Fuck,” he’d said, ten minutes late, a cake in one hand and a whicker basket the other, “sorry. My last class is on–”

But he didn’t finish. You’d laughed so hard with relief at the reference that he never got the chance. Peter remembered your very first inside joke, because Peter wasn’t about to go off to ESU and meet new friends and forget you. 

But Peter’s been distant for a while now, because Peter’s Spider-Man. 

“Do you remember,” you say, not willing to share the whole truth, “when you joined the school newspaper to be the official photographer, and you taught me the rule of thirds?” 

“So you didn’t need me,” he says. 

“I was just thinking about it. We ran that newspaper like the Navy.” 

Peter holds your gaze. “Is that really what you were thinking about?” 

“Just funny,” you murmur, dropping your hand in your lap and breaking his stare. “So much has changed.” 

“Not that much.” 

“Not for me, no.” 

Peter gets a look in his eyes you know well. He’s found a crack in you and he’s gonna smooth it over until you feel better. You’re expecting his soft tone, his loving smile, but you’re not expecting the way he pulls you in —you’d slipped away from him as the evening went on, but Peter erases every millimetre of space as he slides his arm under your lower back and ushers you into his side. You hold your breath as he hugs you, as he looks down at you. It’s really like he loves you, the line between platonic and romantic a blur. He’s never looked at you like this before.

“I don’t want you to change,” he whispers. 

“I want to catch up with you,” you whisper back. 

“Catch up with me? We’re in the exact same place, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, are we?” 

Peter hugs you closer, squishing your head down against his jaw as he rubs your shoulder. “Of course we are.” 

Peter… What is he doing? 

You let yourself relax against him. 

“You do change,” he whispers, an utterance of sound to calm that awful bruise he gave you all those months ago, “you change every day, but you don’t need to try.” 

“I just… feel like everyone around me is…” You shake your head. “Everyone’s so smart, and they know what they’re doing, or they’re– they’re special. I don’t know anything. So I guess lately I’ve been thinking about that, and then you–”

“What?” 

You can say it out loud. You could. 

“Peter, you’re…” 

“I’m what?” he asks. 

His fingers glide down the length of your arm and up again. 

If you're wrong, he’ll laugh. And if you’re right, he might– might stop touching you. Your head feels so heavy, and his touch feels like it’s gonna put you to sleep. 

He’s Spider-Man. 

It makes sense. Who else could have a good enough heart to do that? Of course it’s Peter. It explains so much about him, about Peter and Spider-Man both. Why Peter is suddenly firmer, lighter on his feet, why he can help you move a wardrobe up two flights of stairs without complaint; why Spider-Man is so kind to you, why he knows where to find you, why he rolls his words around just like Pete. 

Spider-Man said there are reasons he wears his mask. And Peter doesn’t tell you much, but you trust him. 

You won’t make him say anything, you decide. Not now. 

You curl your arm over his stomach hesitantly, smiling into his shirt as he hugs you tighter. 

“I was thinking about you,” he says. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re quieter lately. I know you’re having a hard time right now, okay? You don’t have to tell me. I’m here for you whenever you need me.” 

“Yeah?” you ask.

“You used to sit on my porch when you knew May wouldn’t be home to make sure I wasn’t alone.” Peter’s breath is warm on your forehead. “I don’t know what you’re worried about being, but I’m with you,” he says, “‘n nothing is gonna change that.” 

Peter isn’t as far away as you thought. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

He kisses your forehead softly. Your whole world goes amber. He brings his hand to your cheek, the thought of him tipping your head back sudden and heart-racing, but Peter only holds you. You lose count of how many minutes you spend cupped in his hand. 

“Can I stay over tonight?” he utters, barely audible under the sound of the battering rain. 

“Yeah, please.” 

His thumb strokes your cheek. 

—

Two switches flip at once, that night. Peter is suddenly as tactile as you’ve craved, and Spider-Man disappears. 

He’s alive and well, as evidenced by Peter’s continued survival and presence in your life, but Spider-Man doesn’t drop in on your nightly walks. 

You take less of them lately, feeling better in yourself. Your spirits are certainly lifted by Peter’s increasing affection, but now that you know he’s Spider-Man you were waiting to see him in spandex to mess with his head. Nothing mean, but you would’ve liked to pick at his secret identity, toy with him like you know he’d do to you. After all, he’s been trailing you for weeks and getting to know you. Peter already knows you. Plus, you told Spider-Man secrets not meant for Peter Parker’s ears. 

You find it hard to be angry with him. A thread of it remains whenever you remember his deception, but mostly you worry about him. Peter’s out every night until who knows what hour fighting crime. There are guns. He could get shot, and he doesn’t seem scared. You end up watching videos on the internet of the night he ran to Oscorp, when he fought Connors’ and got that huge gash in his leg. His leg is soiled deep red with blood but banded in white webbing. He limps as he races across a rooftop, the recording shaky yet high definition. 

It’s not nice to see Peter in pain. You cling to what he’d said, how he wasn’t scared, but not being scared doesn’t mean he wasn’t hurting. 

You chew the tip of a finger and click on a different video. Your computer monitor bears heat, the tower whirring by your thigh. Your eyes burn, another hour sitting in the same seat, sick with worry. You don’t mind when Peter doesn’t answer your texts anymore. You didn’t mind so much before, just terrified of becoming an irrelevance in his life and lonely, too, maybe a little hurt, but never worried for his safety. Now when Peter doesn’t text you back you convince yourself that he’s been hurt, or that he’s swinging across New York City about to risk his life.

It’s not a good way to live. You can’t stop giving into it, is all. 

In the next video, Spider-Man sits on a billboard with a can of coke in hand. He doesn’t lift his mask, seemingly aware of his watcher. You laugh as he angles his head down, suspicion in his tight shoulders. He relaxes when he sees whoever it is recording. 

“Hey,” he says, “you all right?” 

“Should you be up there?” the person recording shouts. 

“I’m fine up here!” 

“Are you really Spider-Man?” 

“Sure am.” 

“Are you single?” 

Peter laughs like crazy. How you didn’t know it was him before is a mystery —it couldn’t sound more like him. “I’ve got my eye on someone!” he says, sounding younger for it, the character voice he enacts when he’s Spider-Man lost to a good mood.  

Your phone rings in the back pocket of your jeans. You wriggle it out, nonplussed to find Peter himself on your screen. You click the green answer button. 

“Hello?” Peter asks. 

You bring the phone snug to your ear. “Hey, Peter.” 

“Hi, are you busy?” 

“Not really.” 

“Do you wanna come over? I know it’s late. Come stay the night and tomorrow we’ll go out for breakfast.” 

“Is Aunt May okay with that?” 

“She’s staring at me right now shaking her head, but I’m in trouble for something. May, can she come over, is that allowed?” 

“She’s always allowed as long as you keep the door open.”

You laugh under your breath at May’s begrudging answer. “Are you sure she’s alright with it?” you ask softly. “I don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You never, ever could be. I’m coming to your place and we’ll walk over together. Did you eat dinner?” 

“Not yet, but–”

“Okay, I’ll make you something when you get here. I’ll meet you at the door. Twenty minutes?” 

“I have to shower first.” 

“Twenty five?” 

You choke on a laugh, a weird bubbly thing you’re not used to. Peter laughs on the other side of the phone. “How about I’ll see you at seven?” 

“It’s a date,” he says. 

“Mm, put it in your calendar, Parker.” 

—

Peter waits for you at the door like he promised. He frowns at your still-wet face as he slips your backpack from your shoulder, throwing it over his own. “You’re gonna get sick.” 

“I‘ll dry fast,” you say. “I took too long finding my pyjamas.” 

“I have stuff you can wear. Probably have your sweatpants somewhere, the grey ones.” Peter pulls you forward and wipes your tacky face. “I would’ve waited,” he says. 

“It’s fine.“

“It’s not fine. Are you cold?” 

“Pete, it’s fine.” 

“You always remind me of my Uncle Ben when you call me Pete,” he laughs, “super stern.” 

“I’m not stern. Look, take me home, please, I’m cold.” 

“You said it wasn’t cold!” 

“It’s not, I’m just damp–” Peter cuts you off as he grabs you, sudden and tight, arms around you and rubbing the lengths of your back through your coat. “Handsy!”

“You like it,” he jokes back, his playful warming turning into a hug. You smile, hiding your face in his neck for a few moments. 

“I don’t like it,” you lie. 

“Okay, you don’t like it, and I’m sorry.” Peter gives you a last hug and pulls away. “Now let’s go. I gotta feed you before midnight.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Apparently, nothing is.” 

Peter links your arms together. By the time you get to his house, you’ve fallen away from each other naturally. May is in the hallway when you climb through the door, an empty laundry basket in her hands. 

“I see Peter hasn’t won this argument yet,” you say in way of greeting. Peter’s desperate to do his own laundry now he’s getting older. May won’t let him. 

“No, he hasn’t.” She looks you up and down. “It’s nice to see you, honey. And in one piece! Peter tells me you’ve been walking a lot, and I mean, in this city? Can’t you buy a treadmill?” she asks. 

“May!” Peter says, startled. 

“I like walking, I like the air,” you say.

“Can’t exactly call it fresh,” May says. 

“No, but it’s alright. It helps me think.” 

“Is everything okay?” May asks, putting her hand on her hip. 

“Of course.” You smile at her genuinely. “I think starting college was too much for me? It was hard. But things are settling now, I don’t know what Peter told you, but I’m not walking a lot anymore. You know, not more than necessary.”

She softens her disapproving. “Good, honey. That’s good. Peter’s gonna make you some dinner now, right?” 

“Yeah, Aunt May, I’m gonna make dinner,” Peter sighs, pulling a leg up to take off his shoes. 

Peter shouldn’t really know that you’ve been walking. He might see you coming back from Trader Joe’s or the bodega on his way to your apartment, but you haven’t mentioned any of your longer excursions, and everybody in Queens has to walk. That’s information he wouldn’t know without Spider-Man. 

He seems to be hoping you won’t realise, changing the subject to the frankly killer grilled cheese and tomato soup that he’s about to make you, and pushing you into a chair at the table. “Warm up,” he says near the back of your head, forcing a wave of shivers down your arms.

He makes soup in one pan, grilled cheese in the other, two for him and two for you. Peter’s a good eater, and he encourages the same from you, setting a big bowl of tomato soup (from the can, splash of fresh cream) down in front of you with the grilled cheese on a plate between you. You eat it in too-hot bites and try not to get caught looking at him. He does the same, but when he catches you, or when you catch him, he holds your eye and smiles. 

“I can do the dishes,” you say. You might need a breather. 

“Are you kidding? I’m gonna rinse them, put them in the dishwasher.” Peter stands and feels your forehead with his hand. “Warmer. Good job.” 

You shrug away from his hand. “Loser.” 

“Concerned friend.” 

“Handsy loser.” 

”Shut up,” he mumbles. 

As flustered as you’ve ever seen, Peter takes your empty dishes to the kitchen. When he’s done rinsing them off you follow him upstairs to his bedroom and tuck your backpack under his bed. 

You look down at your socks. Peter’s room is on the smaller side, but it’s never been as startlingly small as it is when Peter’s socked feet align with yours, toe to toe. Quick recovery time, this boy. 

“There’s chips and stuff on my desk. Or I could run to 91st for some ice cream sandwiches if you want something sweet,” he says. 

You lift your eyes, tilt your head up just a touch, not wanting him to think you’re in his space no matter how strange that might be, considering he chose to stand there. “I’m all right. Did you want ice cream? We can go if you want to, but if you want to go ’cos you think I do then I’m fine.” 

“That’s such a long answer,” he says, draping an arm over your shoulder. “You don’t have to say all of that, just tell me no.” 

“I don’t want ice cream.” 

“Wasn’t that easy?” he asks. 

“Well, no, it wasn’t. Saying no to you is like saying no to a puppy.” 

“Because I’m adorable?” 

“Persistent.” 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He drapes the other arm over you. The soap he used at the kitchen sink lingers on his hands. 

“Peter…?” you murmur. 

“What?” he murmurs back. 

You touch a knuckle to his chest. “This– You…” Every quelled thought rushes to the surface at once —Peter doesn’t like you as you desire, how could he, you aren’t beautiful like he is, aren’t smart, aren’t brave, no exceptional kindness or goodness to mark you enough for him. It’s why his being with Gwen didn’t hurt; she made sense. And for months now you’ve wondered what it is that made him struggle to be with her. And sometimes, foolishly, you wondered if it was you. But it’s not you, it’s never you, and whatever Peter’s trying to do now–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, taking your face into his hand. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What?” He pushes his hand back to hold your nape, thumb under your ear. “I can’t hear you.”  

You raise your voice. “Why did you invite me over tonight?” 

“‘Cos I missed you?” 

“I used to think you didn’t miss me at all.” 

Peter winces, hurt. “How could you think that? Of course I miss you. What you said to May, about college being hard? It’s like that for me too, okay? I miss you all the time.” 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. “…College isn’t hard for you.” 

“It’s not easy.” He frowns, the fallen angel, his lips an unsure brushstroke. “What’s wrong? Did I say the wrong thing?” 

You’re being wretched, you know, saying it isn’t hard for him. “You didn’t. Really, you didn’t.” 

“But why are you upset?” he implores, dark eyes darker as his eyebrows tug together.

“I’m not–”

“You are. It’s okay, you can be upset. I just want you to feel better, you know that?” He settles his hands at the tops of your arms. Less intimate, but something warm remains. “Even if it takes a long time.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine.”

“How would you know?” you finally ask. 

Peter stares at you. 

“I know you,” he says carefully, “and I know you aren’t struggling like you were, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen or that you have to be a hundred percent better now.” 

“I didn’t realise that I was,” you say, licking your lips, “‘til now. I didn’t get that it was on the surface.”

Peter pulls you in for a gentle hug. “I’m here for you forever, and I’ll make it up to you for not noticing sooner,” he says, scrunching your shirt in his hand.

After the hug, he tells you to change and make yourself comfortable while he showers. So you put on your pyjamas and climb into Peter’s bed, head pounding as though all your energy was stolen in a fell swoop. You press your nose to his pillow and arm wrapped around his comforter, gathering it into a Peter sized lump. The shower pump whines against the shared wall. 

Things aren’t meant to be like this. You thought Peter touching you —holding you— was the deepest of your desires, but you feel now exactly as you had before he started blurring the line, needing Peter to kiss you so badly it becomes its own kind of nausea. Why are you still acting like it’s an impossibility?

When he comes back, you’ll apologise. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He does keep a secret, but don’t you keep one too? He’s Spider-Man. You’ve had deep, complicated feelings for him for months. They are secrets of equal magnitude, and are, more apparently, badly kept. 

You wish you could fall asleep. Your heart ticks in agitation.

Peter returns as perturbed as earlier. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” he asks, raking a hand through his hair. A towel hangs around his neck. 

“I’m sorry for being weird.” 

“You’re not weird,” Peter says, bringing the towel to his hair to scrub ruthlessly. 

“It’s just ‘cos things have been different between us.” And, you try to say, that scares me no matter how bad I wanted it. because you’re not just Peter anymore, you’re Spider-Man. I’m only me, and I can’t do anything to protect you.

Peter gives his hair a long scrub before draping the towel on his desk chair. He rakes it messily into place and sits himself at the end of the bed. You sit up. 

“Yeah, they have been. Good different?” he asks hesitantly. 

“I think so,” you say, quiet again. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“I don’t want you to feel like I don’t want to be here. I just worry about you.” 

Peter uses his hands to get higher up the bed. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, “Jesus, please don’t. That’s the last thing I want from you, I hate when people worry about me.” 

You curl into the lump of comforter you’d made. Peter lets himself rest beside you, his back to the bedroom wall, tens of Polaroids above him shining with the light of the hallway and his orange-bulbed lamp. His skin is glowing like it’s golden hour, dashes of topaz in his eyes, his Cupid’s bow deep. How would it feel to lean forward and kiss him? To catch his Cupid's bow under your lips?

You brush a damp curl tangled in another onto his forehead. 

You lay there for a little while without talking, listening to the sound of the washing machine as it cycles downstairs. 

“Am I going too fast?” Peter murmurs. 

You press your lips together, shaking your head minutely. 

“Is it something else?” 

You don’t move. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks. 

“No.”

Peter rewards you with a smile, his hand on your arm. “Alright. Let me get this blanket on you the right way. You’re still cold.” 

You resent the loss of a shape to hold when Peter slips down beside you and wrangles the comforter flat again, spreading it out over you both, his hand under the blankets. His knuckles brush your thigh. 

He takes a deep breath before turning and wrapping his arm over your stomach, asking softly, “Is this alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

He gives you a look and then lifts his head to slot his nose against your temple. “Please don’t take this in a way that I don’t mean it, but sometimes you think about things so much I worry you’re gonna get stuck in your head forever.” 

“I like thinking.” 

“I hate it,” he says quickly, a fervent, flirting cadence to his otherwise dulcet tone, “we should never do it ever again.” 

“I’ll try not to.” 

“Would you? For me?” 

You laugh into his shirt, feeling the warmth of your breath on your own nose. “I’ll do my best.” 

“Good. I’d miss you too much if you got lost in that nice head of yours.” 

You relax under his arm. You aren’t sure what all the fuss was about now that he's hugging you. “I’d miss you too.”

May comes up the stairs about an hour later. To her credit, she doesn’t flinch when she finds you and Peter smushed together watching a DVD on his old TV. He’s holding your arm, and you’re snoozing on his shoulder, half-aware of the world, fully aware of his nice smells and the shapes of his arms. 

“Door open,” she says. 

“Not that either of us want it closed, May, but we’re adults.” 

“Not while I’m still washing your clothes, you’re not.” 

He snorts. “Goodnight, Aunt May. The door isn’t gonna close, I promise.” 

“I know that,” she says, scornful in her pride. “You’re a good boy.” She lightens. “Things are going okay?” 

Peter covers your ear. “Goodnight, Aunt May.” 

”I have half a mind to never listen to you again. You talk my ear off and I can’t ask a simple question?” 

“I love you,” Peter sing-songs. 

“I love you, Peter,” she says. “Don’t smother the girl.” 

“I won’t smother her. It’s in my best interest that she survives the night. She’s buying my breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Peter Parker.” 

“I’m kidding,” he whispers, petting your cheek absentmindedly. “Just messing with you, May.” 

You smile and curl further into his arms. His voice is like the sun, even when he whispers.  

—

To your surprise, Spider-Man comes to find you after class one evening. A guest lecturer had talked to your oncology class about click chemistry and other molecular therapies against cancer, and the zine book she’d given you is burning a hole in your pocket. Peter is going to love it. 

You pull it out and pause beside a bench and a silver trash can, the day grey but thankfully without rain. The pages of your little book whip forcefully in the wind. It’s chemistry, sure, but it’s biology too, wrapping your and Peter’s interests up neatly. If it weren’t for Peter you doubt you’d love science as much as you do. He’s always been good at it, but since you started college he's been a genius. Watching him grow has encouraged you to work harder, and understanding the material is satisfying, if draining. You take a photo of the middle most pages and tuck the book away, writing a quick text to Peter to send with it. 

Look! it says, LEGO cancer treatment!! 

The moment you press send a beep chimes from somewhere close behind you, all too familiar. You turn to the source but find nobody you know waiting. Coincidence, you think, shaking yourself and beginning the trek to the subway. 

But then you hear the tell tale splat and thwick of Spider-Man’s webbing. 

You wait until you’re at the alleyway between Porto’s Bakery and the key cutting shop and turn down to stop by one of the dumpsters. 

“Spider-Man?” you ask, shoulders tensed in case it’s not who you think. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You gasp as he hops down in front of you, his suit shiny with its dark web-pattern caught by the grey sunshine passing through the clouds overhead. “Shit, don’t break your ankles.” 

“My ankles?” He laughs. He sounds so much like Peter that you can only laugh with him. What an idiot he is for thinking you don’t know; what a fool you’d been for falling for his put upon tenor. “They’re fine. What would be wrong with my ankles?” 

“You just dropped down twenty feet!” 

“It’s more like thirty, and I’m fine. You understand the super part of superhero, don’t you?” 

“Who said you’re a superhero?” 

“Nice. What are you doing down here?” 

“I was testing my theory. You’re following me.” 

“No, I’m visiting you, it’s very different,” he says confidently. 

“You haven’t come to see me for weeks.” 

“Yes, well, I–” Spider-Peter crosses his arms across his chest. “Hey, you’re the one who told me to take a day off.” 

“I did tell you to take a day off. It’s not nice thinking about you trying to save the world every single night. That’s a lot of responsibility for one person to have.” 

“But it’s my responsibility,” he says easily. “No point in a beautiful girl like you wasting her time worrying about it. I have to do it, and I don’t mind it.” 

“Do you flirt with every girl you meet out here in the city?” you ask, cheeks hot. 

“No,” he says, fondness evident even through the mask, “just you.” 

“Do you wanna walk me home? I was gonna take the subway, but it’s not that far.” 

Spider-Man nods. “Yeah, I’ll walk you back.” 

He doesn’t hide that he knows the way very well. He takes preemptive turns, crosses roads without you telling him to go forward. You can’t believe him. Smartest guy at Midtown High and he can’t pretend to save his life. 

“Are you having a good semester?” he asks. 

“It’s getting better. I’m glad I stuck with it. I love biology, it’s so fucking hard. I used to think that was a bad thing, but it makes it cooler now. Like, it’s not something everyone understands.” You give him a look, and you give into temptation. “My best friend got me into all this stuff. I used to think math was hopeless and science was for dorks.” 

“It’s definitely for dorks.” 

“Right, but I love being one.” You offer a useless secret. “I like to think that it’s why we’re such great friends.” 

“Me and you?” Spider-Man asks hoarsely. 

“Me and Peter.” You elbow him without force. “Why, do you like science?” 

“I love it…” 

“You know, I really like you, Spider-Man. I feel like we’ve been friends for a long time.” You’re teasing poor Peter. 

He doesn’t speak for a while. He stops walking, but you take a few steps without him. When you realise he’s stopped, you turn back to see him. 

Peter’s gone so tense you could strike him with a flint and catch a spark. It’s the same way Peter looked at you when he told you about his Uncle, a truth he didn’t want to be true. Seeing it throws a spanner in the works of all your teasing: you’d meant to wind him up, not make him panic. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Can you hear something?” 

“No, it’s not that…” He’s masked, but you know him well enough to understand why he’s stopped. 

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“It’s not, actually.” 

“Spider-Man.” You take a step toward him. “It’s fine.”

He presses his hands to his stomach. The sun is setting early, and in an hour, the dark will eat up New York and leave it in a blistering cold. “Do you remember when we first met, the second time, we swapped secrets?” 

“Yeah, I remember. Useless secret for another. I told you I hated my major. It’s not true anymore, obviously. I was having a bad time.” 

“I know you were,” he says, emphasis on know, like it’s a different word entirely. 

“But meeting you really helped. If it weren’t for you, for Peter,” —you give him a searching look— “I wouldn’t feel better at all.” 

“It wasn’t his fault?” he asks. “He was your friend, and you were lonely.” 

“No–”

“He didn’t know what was going on with you, he didn’t have a clue. You hurt yourself and you felt like you couldn’t tell anybody, and I know it wasn’t an accident, so what was his excuse?” His voice burns with anger. “It’s his fault.” 

“Of course it wasn’t your fault. Is that what you think?” You shake your head, panicked by the bone-deep self loathing in his voice, his shameful dropped head. “Yes, I was lonely, I am lonely, I don’t know many people and I– I– I hurt myself, and it wasn’t as accidental as I thought it was, but why would that be your fault?” 

“Peter’s fault,” he says, though his head is lifted now, and he doesn’t bother enthusing it with much gusto. 

“Peter, none of it was your fault.” You cringe in your embarrassment, thinking Fuck, don’t let me ruin this. “I was in a weird way, and yes, I was lonely, and I really liked you more than I should have. You didn't want me and that wasn’t your fault, that’s just how it was, I tried not to let it get to me, just there were a lot of things weighing on me at once, but it really wasn’t as bad as you think it was and it wasn’t your fault.” 

“I wasn’t there for you,” he says. “And I’ve been lying to you for a long time.” 

“You couldn’t tell me, right? Spider-Man is your secret for a reason.” 

“…I didn’t even know you were lonely until you told him. He was a stranger.” 

You hold your hands behind your back. “Well, he was a familiar one.” 

Peter reaches out as though wanting to touch you, but your arms aren’t in his reach. “It’s not because I didn’t want you.” 

“Peter,” you say, squirming. 

He steps back. 

“I have to go,” he says. 

“What?” 

“I have to– I don’t want to go,” he says earnestly, “sweetheart, I can hear someone calling out, I have to go. But I’ll come back, I’ll– I’ll come back,” he promises. 

And with a sudden lift of his arm, Peter pulls himself up the side of a building and disappears, leaving you whiplashed on the sidewalk, the sun setting just out of view.

—

You fall asleep that night waiting for Peter. When you wake up, 5AM, eyes aching, he isn’t there. You check your phone but he hasn’t texted. You check the Bugle and Spider-Man hasn’t been seen. 

You aren’t sure what to think. He sounded sincere to the fullest extent when he said he’d come back, but he didn’t, not ten minutes later, not twenty. You made excuses and you went home before it got too dark to see the street, sat on the couch rehearsing what you’d say. How could Peter think your unhappiness was his fault? Why does he always put the entire world on his shoulders?

Selfishly, you worried what it all meant for his lazy touches. Would he want to curl up into bed with you again now he knows what it means to you? It’s different for him. It isn’t like he’s in love with you… you’d just thought maybe he could be. That this was falling in love, real love, not the unrequited ache you’d suffered before. 

But maybe you got everything wrong. All of it. It wouldn't be the first time. 

—

You and Peter found The Moroccan Mode in your senior year at Midtown. The school library was small and you were sick of being underfoot at home. When you started at ESU, you explored the on campus coffeehouse, the Coffee Bean, but it was crowded, and you’d found yourself attached to the Mode’s beautiful tiling, blues and topaz and platinum golds, its heavy, oiled wooden furniture, stained glass lampshades and the case full of lemony treats. The coffee here is better than anywhere else, but the best part out of everything is that it’s your secret. Barely anybody comes to the Mode on purpose. 

You hide in a far corner with a book and an empty cup of decaf coffee, a slice of meskouta on the table untouched. Decaf because caffeine felt a terrible idea, meskouta untouched because you can’t stomach the smell. You push it to the opposite end of the table, considering another cup of coffee instead. It’s served slightly too hot, and will still be warm when it gets to your chest. 

The sunshine is creeping in slowly. It feels like the first time you’ve seen it in months, warming rays kissing your fingers and lining the walls. You turn a page, turn your wrist, let the sun warm the scar you gave yourself those few months ago, when everything felt too big for you. 

Looking back, it was too big. Maybe soon you’ll be ready to talk about it.  

The author in your book is talking about bees. They can fly up to 15 miles per hour. They make short, fast motions from front to back, a rocking motion. Asian giant hornets can go even faster despite their increased mass. They consider humans running provocation. If you see a giant hornet, you’re supposed to lay down to avoid being stung. 

You put your face in your hand. Next year, you’ll avoid the insect-based electives. 

Across the cafe, the bell at the top of the door rings. Laughter falls through it, a couple passing by. The register clashes open. A minute later it closes. 

You don’t raise your head when footsteps draw near. A plate is placed on the table, pushed across to you, stopping just shy of your coffee. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” Peter asks quietly. 

His voice is gentle, but hoarse. 

You tense. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, not waiting for your answer to either question. “You don’t look like yourself. Your eyes are red.” 

You lift your head. Wet with the beginnings of tears, you see Peter through an astigmatic blur. 

“What are you reading?” He frowns at you. “Please don’t cry.” 

You shake your head. Your smile is all odd, nothing like his, no inherent warmth despite your best effort. “I’m okay.” 

He nudges you across the booth seat and sits beside you. His arm settles behind your shoulders. He smells like smoke and soap, an acrid scent barely hidden. “Can you tell me you didn’t wait long for me?” 

“Ten minutes,” you lie. 

“Okay. I’m sorry. There was a fire.” He rubs your arm where he’s holding you. “I’m sorry.” 

“Will you go half?” you ask, nodding to the sandwich he’s brought you. It’s tough sourdough bread, brown with white flour on the crusts and leafy greens poking between the slices. You and Peter complain about the price. You’ve never had one. He passes you the bigger half, holding the other in his hand without eating. 

“I know you’re hungry,” you say, tapping his elbow, “just eat.” 

You eat your sandwiches. Now that Peter’s here, you don’t feel so sick —he’s not upset with you. The dull pang of an empty stomach won’t be ignored. 

Peter puts his sandwich down, which is crazy, and wipes his fingers on the plates napkin. You’ve never seen him stop before he’s done.

“It was in the apartments on Vernon. I– I think I almost died, the smoke was everywhere.” 

You choke around a crust, thrusting the rest of your half onto the plate. “Are you hurt?” you ask, coughing. 

He moves his head from side to side, not a shake, but a slow no. “How long have you known it was me?” he asks, curling his hand behind your back again, fingers spread over your shoulder blade, a fingertip on your neck. 

You savour his touch, but you give in to your apprehension and stare at his chest. “The night you caught me outside in the rain in November. You called me ‘running girl’. The way you said it, you sounded exactly like him. I turned around expecting,” —you whisper, weary of the quiet cafe— “Spider-Man, and I realised it’s him that sounds like you. That he is you.” 

“Was that disappointing?” 

“Peter, you’re, like, my favourite person in the world,” you whisper fervently, your smile making it light. You laugh. “Why would that be disappointing?” 

“I thought maybe you think he’s cooler than me.” 

“He is cooler than you, Peter.” You laugh again, pleased when he scoffs and draws you nearer. “I guess you’re the same person, right? So he’s just as cool as you are. But why would being cool matter to me? You know I like you.” 

“You flirted pretty heavily with Spider-Man.”

“Well, he flirted with me first.” 

You chance a look at his face. From that moment you can’t look away, not from Peter. You like when he wears that darkness in his eyes, the hint of his rarer side so uncommonly seen, but you love this most of all, Peter like your best memory, the way he’s looking at you now a picture perfect copy of that moment in a swimming pool in Manhattan with cracked tile under your feet. His arms heavy on your shoulders. You didn’t get it then, but you’re starting to understand now.

“I’ve made a mess of everything,” he says softly, the trail his hand makes to the small of your back leaving a wake of goosebumps. “I haven’t been honest with you.” 

“I haven’t, either.” 

“I want to ask you for something,” Peter says, a fingertip trailing back up. He smiles when you shiver, not teasing, just loving. “You can say no.” 

“You’re hard to say no to.” 

“I need you to talk to me more,” —and here he goes, Peter Parker, flirting and sweet-talking like his life depends on it, his face inching down into your space— “not just because I love your voice, or because you think so much I’m scared you’ll get lost, but I need you to talk to me. We need to talk about real things.”

We do, you think morosely. 

“It’s not your fault,” he adds, the hand that isn’t holding your back coming up to cup your cheek, “it’s mine. I was scared of telling you for stupid reasons, but I shouldn’t have let it be a secret for so long.” 

“No, I doubt they’re stupid,” you murmur, following his hand as he attempts to move it to your ear. “It’s not easy to tell someone you’re a hero.”

His palm smells like smoke. 

“That’s not the secret I meant,” he says. 

You take his hand from your face. Peter looks down and begins pressing his fingers between yours, squeezing them together as his thumb runs over the back of your hand.

“So tell me.”

The sunshine bleeds onto his cheek. Dappled orange light turning slowly white as time stretches and the sun moves up through a murky sky. “You want to trade secrets again?” he asks. 

“Please.” 

“Okay. Okay, but I don’t have as many as you do,” he warns. 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“I don’t. It’s not a real secret, is it? I’ve been trying to show you for weeks, we…”

He tilts his head invitingly. 

All those hand-holds and nights curled up in bed together. Am I going too fast? You know exactly what he means; it really isn’t a secret.

“I’ll go first,” he says, lowering his face to yours. You try not to close your eyes. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks.” He closes his eyes so you follow, your breath not your own suddenly. You hold it. Let it go hastily. “What’s your secret?” 

“Sometime I want you to kiss me so badly I can’t sleep. It makes me feel sick–”

“Sick?” he asks worriedly. 

You touch the tip of your nose to his. “It’s like– like jealousy, but…” 

“You have no one to be jealous of,” he says surely. He cups your cheek, and he asks, “Please, can I kiss you?” 

You say, “Yes,” very, very quietly, but he hears it, and his smile couldn’t be more obvious as he closes the last of the distance between you to kiss you.

It isn’t the sort of kiss that kept you up at night. Peter doesn’t hook you in or tip your head back, he kisses gently, his hand coming to live on your cheek, where it cradles. It’s so warm you don’t know what to make of him beyond kissing him back —kissing his smile, though it’s catching. Kissing the line of his Cupid’s bow as he leans down. 

“I’m sorry about everything,” he mumbles, nose flattened against yours. 

You feel sunlight on your cheek. Squinting, you turn into his hand to peer outside at the sudden abundance of it. It’s still cold outside, but the Mode is warm, Peter’s hand warmer, and the sunshine is a welcome guest. 

Peter drops his hand. “Oh, wow. December sun. Good thing it didn’t snow, we’d be blind.”

“I can’t be cold much longer,” you confess. “I’m sick of the shitty weather.” 

“I can keep you warm.” 

He smiles at you. His eyelashes tangle in the corners of his eyes, long and brown. 

“Did you want my meskouta?” you ask. 

Peter plants a fat kiss against your brow. 

You let the sunshine warm your face. Two unfinished sandwich halves, a mouthful of coffee, and a round slice of meskouta, its flaky crumb and lemon drizzle shining on the table. You would ask Peter for his camera if you’d thought he brought it with him, to take a picture of your breakfast and the carved table underneath. You could turn it on Peter, say something cheesy. This is the moment you ruined our lives, you’d tease.

“You never told me you met Spider-Man, you know.” 

You watch Peter lick the tip of his finger without shame. “They could make a novella of things I haven’t told you about,” you murmur wryly. 

Peter takes a bite of meskouta, reaching for your knee under the table. He shakes your leg a little, as if to say, Well, we’ll work on that. 

—

Spring

“Sorry!”

“No, it’s–”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m– shit!”

“–okay! All legs inside the ride?”

“I couldn’t find my purse–”

“You don’t need it!” Peter leans over the console to kiss your cheek. “You don’t have to rush.” 

“Are you sure you can drive this thing?” 

“Harry doesn’t mind.” 

“I don’t mean the car, I mean, are you sure you can drive?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

You grin and dart across to kiss his cheek, too. “Nothing ever is with us.” 

Peter grabs you behind the neck —which might sound rough, if he were capable of such a thing— and pulls you forward for a kiss you don’t have time for. “If we don’t check in,” —you begin, swiftly smothered by another press of his lips, his tongue a heat flirting with the seam of your lips— “by three, they said they won’t keep the room–” He clasps the back of your neck and smiles when your breath stutters. You squeeze your eyes closed, kiss him fiercely, and pull away, hand on his chest to restrain him. “And then we’ll have to drive home like losers.” 

Peter sits back in the driver's seat unbothered. He fixes his hair, and he wipes his bottom lip with his knuckle. You’re rolling your eyes when he finally returns your gaze. “Sorry, am I the one who lost her purse?” 

“Peter!” 

“I can’t make us un-late,” he says, turning the key slowly, hands on the wheel but his eyes still flitting between your eyes and your lips. 

“Alright,” you warn. 

He reaches for your knee. “It’s a forty minute drive. You’re panicking over nothing.” 

“It’s an hour.” 

Your drive from Queens to Manhattan is entirely uneventful. You keep Peter’s hand hostage on your knee, your palm atop it, the other hand wrapped around his wrist, your conversation a juxtaposition, almost lackadaisical. Peter doesn’t question your clinging nor your lazy murmurings, rubbing a circle into your knee with his thumb from Forest Hill to Lenox Hill. There’s so much to do around Manhattan; you could visit MoMA, Central Park, The Empire State Building or Times Square, but you and Peter give it all a miss for the little known Manhattan Super 8. 

It’s been a long time since you and Peter first visited. You took the bus out to Lenox Hill for a med-student tour neither of you particularly enjoyed, feeling out future careers. It’s not that Lenox Hill isn’t one of the most impressive medical facilities in New York (if not the northeastern USA), it’s that all the blood made him queasy, and you were panicking too much about the future to think it through. He got over his aversion to blood but chose the less hands-on science in the end, and you worked things through. You’re a little less scared of the future everyday. 

You and Peter were supposed to get the bus straight back home for a sleepover, but one got cancelled, another delayed, and night closed in like two hands on your neck. Peter sensed your fear and emptied his wallet for a night in the Super 8. 

The next morning it was beautifully sunny. The first day of summer that year, warm and golden. The pool wasn’t anything special but it was invitingly cool, blue and white tiles patterned like fish below; you clambered into the water in shorts and a tank top and Peter his boxers before a worker could see and stop you. 

It was one of the best days of your life. When you told Peter about it last week, he’d looked at you peculiarly, said, Bub, you’re cute, and let you waste the afternoon recounting one of your more embarrassing pangs of longing. A few days later he told you to clear your calendar for the weekend, only spilling the beans on what he’d done when you’d curled over his lap, a hand threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, murmuring, Tell me, tell me, tell me. 

He’d hung his head over you and scrunched up his eyes. Cheater.

The best thing about having a boyfriend is that he always wants to listen to you. Peter was a good listener as a best friend, but now he has his act together and the secrets between you are never anything more than eating the last of the milk duds or not wanting to pee in front of him, he’s a treasure. There’s no feeling like having Peter pull you into his lap so he can ask about your day with his face buried in your neck, sniffing. Sometimes, when you text one another to meet up the next day, you’ll accidentally will the hours away babbling about school and life and things without reason. Peter has a list on his phone of your silliest tangents; blood oranges to the super moon, fries dipped in ice cream to the world record for kick flips done in five minutes. It’s like when you talk to one another, you can’t stop. 

There are quiet moments. You wake up some mornings to find him awake already, an arm behind you, rubbing at your soft upper arm, fingertip displacing the fine hairs there and trailing circles as he reads. He bends the pages back and holds whatever novel he’s reading at the bottom of his stomach, as though making sure you can see the words clearly, even when you’re sleeping. 

There are hectic, aching moments —vigilante boyfriends become blasé with their lives and precious faces. You’ve teetered on the edge of anxiety attacks trying to pick glass from his cheek with a tweezers, lamented over bruises that heal the next day. It’s easier when Peter’s careful, but Spider-Man isn’t careful. You ask him to take care of himself and he’s gentle with himself for a few days, but then someone needs saving from an armed burglar or a car swerves dangerously onto the sidewalk and he forgets. 

He hadn’t patrolled last night in preparation for today. 

“Did you know,” he says, pulling Harry’s borrowed car into a parking spot just in front of the Super 8 reception, “that today’s the last day of spring?” 

“Already?” 

“Tonight’s the June equinox.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Aunt May. She said it’s time to get a summer job.” 

You laugh loudly. “Our federal loans won’t last forever.” 

“Harry’s gonna get me something, I think. Do you want to work with me? It could be fun.” 

You nod emphatically. It’s barely a thought. “Obviously I want to. Does Oscorp pay well, do you think?” 

Peter lets the engine go. The car turns off, engine ticking its last breath in the dash. “Better than the Bugle.” 

You get your key from the reception and find your room upstairs, second floor. It’s not dirty nor exceptionally clean, no mould or damp but a strange smell in the bathroom. There’s a microwave with two mugs and a few sachets of instant coffee. Peter deems it the nicest motel he’s ever stayed in, laughing, crossing the room to its only window and pulling aside the curtain. 

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his arm around you as you join him, “that’s what dreams are made of.” 

The blue and white tiled pool. It hasn’t changed. 

It’s about as hot as it’s going to get in June today, and, not knowing if it’ll rain tomorrow, you and Peter change into your swim suits and gather your towels. You wear flip flops and tangle your fingers, clanking and thumping down the rickety metal stairs to the pool. There’s nobody there, no lifeguard, no quests, and the pool is clean and cold when you dip your toes. 

Peter eases in first. Towels in a heap at the end of a sun lounger, his shirt tumbling to the floor, Peter splashes in frontward and turns to face you as the water laps his ribs. “It’s cold,” he says, wading for your legs, which he hugs. 

“I can feel it,” you say, the cool waters to your calves where you sit on the edge. 

“You won’t come in and warm me up?” he asks. 

You stroke a tendril of hair from his eyes. He attempts to kiss your fingers. 

“I’m trying to prepare myself.” 

“Mm, you have to get used to it.” He puts wet hands on your thighs, looking up imploringly until you lean down for a kiss. The fact that he’d want one still makes you dizzy. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’ll have to move.” 

Peter steps back, a ripple of water ringing behind him, his hands raised. He slips them with ease under your arms and helps you down into the water, laughing at your shocked giggling —he’s so strong, the water so cold. 

Peter doesn’t often show his strength. Never to intimidate, he prefers startling you helpfully. He’ll lift you when you want to reach something too tall, or raise the bed when you’re on his side to force you sideways. 

“Oh, this is the perfect place to try the lift!” he says. 

“How will I run?” you ask, letting your knees buckle, water rushing up to your neck. 

Peter pulls you up. He touches you easily, and yet you get the sense that he’s precious with you, too. There’s devotion to be found in his hands and the specific way they cradle your back, drawing your chest to his. “I don’t need you to do a running start, sweetheart,” he says, tilting his head to the side, “I’ll just lift you.” 

“Last time I laughed so much you dropped me.” 

“Exactly, you laughed, and this is serious.” 

The world isn’t mild here. Car horns beep and tyres crunch asphalt. You can hear children, and singing, and a walkie talkie somewhere in the Super 8’s parking lot. The pool pumps gargle and Peter’s breath is half laughter as he pulls you further from the sidelines, ceramic tiles slippery under your feet. In the distance, you swear you can hear one of those songs he likes from that poor singer who died in the Wolf River. 

He’s a beholden thing in the sun; you can’t not look at him, all of him, his sculpted chest wet and glinting in the sun, his eyes like browning honey, his smile curling up, and up. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says. 

You rest an arm behind his head. “The rash guard is a good look?” 

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t look cuter,” he says, hands on your waist, pinky on your hip. “I wish you’d mentioned these shorts a few days ago. I would’ve prepared to be a more decent man.” 

“You’re decent enough, Parker.” 

“Maybe now.” 

“Well, if things get too hot, you can always take a quick dip,” you say. 

You’re teasing, but Peter’s eyes light up with mischief as he calls, “Oh, great idea!” and lets himself drop backwards into the water. You pull your arm back rather than go with him. You can’t avoid the great burst of water as he surges to the surface. 

He shakes himself off like a dog. 

“Pete!” you cry through laughs, wiping the water from your face before the chlorine gets in your eyes. 

“It just didn’t help,” he says, pulling you back into his arms, “you know, the water is cold, but you’re so hot, and I actually got a pretty good look at them when I was under, and you’re just as pretty as I remembered you being ten seconds ago–”

“Peter,” you say, tempted to roll your eyes. 

Water runs down his face in great rivers, but with the dopey smile he’s sporting, they look like anything but tears. “Tell me a secret?” he asks, dripping in sunshine, an endless summer at his back. 

A soft smile takes your lips. “No,” you say, tipping up your chin, “you tell me one first.”

“What kind of secret?” 

“A real one,” you insist. 

“Oh…” He leans away from you, though his arms stay crossed behind you. “Okay, I have one. Ask me again.” 

You raise a single brow. “Tell me a secret, Peter.” 

He pulls your face in for a kiss. His hand is wet on your cheek, but no less welcome. “I love you,” he says, kissing the skin just shy of your nose. 

You’re lucky he’s already holding you. “I love you too,” you say, gathering him to you for a hug, digging your nose into the slope of his neck as his admission blows your mind. “I love you.” 

Peter wraps his arms around your shoulders, closing his eyes against the side of your head. You can’t know what he’s thinking, but you can feel it. His hands can’t seem to stay still on your skin. 

The sun warms your back for a time. 

Peter lets out a deep breath of relief. You lean away to look at him, your hand slipping down into the water, where he finds it, his fingers circling your wrist. 

“That’s another one to let go of,” he suggests. 

He peppers a row of gentle kisses along your lips and the soft skin below your eye. 

You and Peter swim until your fingers are pruned and the sun has been blanketed by clouds. You let him wrap you in a towel, and kiss your wet ears, and take you back to the room, where he holds your face. 

“I’ll start the shower for you,” he says, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, each stroke of them encouraging your face from one side to the other, just a touch, ever so slightly moved in the palms of his hands. 

“Don’t fall asleep standing up,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes close unbidden to you both. “I won’t.” 

He holds you still, leaning in slowly to kiss you with the barest of pressure. Every thought in your head fades, leaving only you and Peter, and the dizziness of his touch as he lays you down at the end of the bed. 

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

please like, comment or reblog if you enjoyed, i love comments and seeing what anyone reading liked about the fic is a treat —thank you for reading❤︎

This just made my day omg it's so cute 💛🦐

Dog Days (TASM!Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman; friends to lovers; heated make-out; cursing; minor injury; mutual pining; possible part 1 of 2? characters are in college & of age.

It was hot. That sticky kind of hot that clung to you and made you feel like tearing your skin off. That makes the sweat pool at the nape of your neck until it slides in a cold streak down the curve of your spine. The New York air was shimmering, alive with exhaust fumes and the output of overworked air conditioning units of every apartment on your block—except for yours. The dumbass thing had broken overnight and when you woke up at five a.m., damp and uncomfortable, you’d called your best friend knowing he’d make a quick fix of it.

But you’d gotten his voicemail, unsurprising given that he’d never been a morning person. Since you’d met him three years ago at freshman orientation, Peter Parker had perfectly offset you in every way. Where he could stay in bed until noon, you were decidedly not a night owl, often cosy in your pyjamas by ten p.m. Peter had a sharp wit and loved to tease, and though his wit brought out a sharp tongue you’d never known you had, you were infinitely shyer than he was. He was perpetually late to everything from the Christmas dinner you’d invited him to at your parents’ home to your final exam for Organic Chemistry—which he’d passed with flying colours—whereas you were punctual to a fault. And perhaps most significantly, you’d never known heartbreak in your life, never had the opportunity because you’d never given anyone your heart to begin with. Peter’s heart, you knew, had endured the worst kind of break. Though he only spoke of her sometimes, you knew his high school girlfriend had died tragically and each year you went with him to visit her resting place, holding his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles as gently as you could. The depths of that pain, written on his face and in his body language whenever he spoke of Gwen, made you steel yourself against love, afraid to give yourself to anyone in case you left them broken and alone.

There was a flaw in your plan to avoid love forever though, and that was Peter himself. As much as you’d tried to swallow them, shut them up in the deepest pits of your soul, bury them where they’d never see the light of day, your feelings for him had only grown in the last three years. At first it was a little thrill each time his eyes met yours, a tingle on your skin when his fingers grazed your own while you shared a carton of fries at a Yankees game. That had grown, exploded really, into a brilliant whirl of colours every time you heard his voice—a sort of love-induced synesthesia that turned Peter’s laughter yellow and his whispers soft purple and his calling your name the deepest, richest scarlet.

You’d fallen desperately in love with your best friend and you were resolutely not going to do anything about it, thank you very much.

“Y/N!” There was a knock at the door of your cramped apartment that drew you out of your crossword puzzle—stuck, as you were, on 18-Down. “It’s Peter!”

You’d barely heard the knock over the sound of Eminem in your headphones, but there was no mistaking Peter’s voice. You were at the door, earbuds abandoned on the coffee table, pulling it open before you remembered that you’d traded in your baggy David Bowie tee and jean shorts for a barely-there camisole and blue panties of the lightest cotton. You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned. If only you’d known he was being entirely serious—his neck having had a near miss with some villain’s techno-reproduction of a classic medieval weapon only hours ago. “It’s hot as hell in here, Y/N. Are you trying to get me naked?”

Your cheeks flushed and you made quick work of rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible, trying to distract Peter from the change of colour in your face. He was an expert at changing the subject, so much so that you’d long since given up trying to get him to talk about anything he didn’t want to, such as why he was chronically late or where he’d disappeared to that night you had tickets for the Rangers playoff game, or how he managed to find time to workout with his ridiculous school schedule and familial duties because god damn, his arms—you stopped yourself from letting that thought full form, knowing it would send you down a rabbit hole.

“Don’t think I’m not keeping a tally of every time you dodge my questions,” you muttered, moving to the refrigerator and opening it briefly to let some cool air out on your heated chest. The emptiness of the shelves reminded you that you really needed to get groceries because ramen noodles, eggs, and the rapidly decaying bananas on the counter would not keep you alive forever. “And didn’t you get my voicemail?”

“No,” Peter shrugged, “I saw you left me one but thought I’d just swing by.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the joke was.

“Well, the AC is broken,” you informed him, straightened up and facing him where he stood in your living room, his tall and lean frame a familiar sight there alongside the stacks of textbooks and novels, the record player, and the pile of throw pillows you couldn’t stop collecting. For a long moment, Peter stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was just now seeing you since coming in. You felt much more naked than you actually were under his stare and shifted your weight from one leg to the other, your hand coming to tug down at the hem of your camisole. Peter had seen you nearly nude before, but this felt—different. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the unfamiliar expression that flashed across his eyes. Either way, it had you squeezing your legs together as subtly as possible. If Peter noticed, he didn’t let on.

“That explains the outfit,” he grinned, tone light, though you noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“It was hardly my first choice,” you shot back, “But anyways, now that you’re here do you think you could fix it?”

“This feels like the start of a por—”

“Don’t say it, Parker,” you cut him off with a warning glare, eyes wide. Peter only laughed, though stopped almost immediately, favouring his jaw. Already it looked like the gash was healing and you wondered where he’d gotten it from—it reminded you, oddly, of the ankle he’d “sprained” while showing you a skateboarding trick last summer. You would swear up and down, on every holy text that existed, that you’d seen his bone popping out of his skin. But the next day he’d been absolutely fine and you were certain that the limp he’d had for a week was half-faked.

“Y/N? Are you alive in there?” Peter’s amused voice drew you from your reverie and you nodded, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face.

“Alive and well,” you reported, “So you think you can fix it?”

***

As it turned out, Peter could fix the AC unit, but he’d need to pick up a part at the hardware store down the street. While he examined the ancient device mounted on your bedroom wall, you sat perched on your bed, silky pink blankets long since tossed to the floor, watching him with interest, noticing everything about the way his hands moved carefully over the shabby metal, the way his brow furrowed when he peeked inside the unit, and the way his eyes crinkled when he announced that it wouldn’t be an issue to repair.

For his part, Peter knew your eyes were on him—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it Spidey-sense, he just knew you and he’d had an inkling of the feelings you harboured for him for quite some time, though that part probably was Spidey-sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way, because god knows he did, but he was terrified to let himself fall in love again; beyond hesitant to ever let anyone get hurt again because of him. But then there was the way you looked at him, your eyes sparkling with delight when he made a stupid joke. And the way you said his name, like it was a magic spell wrapping itself up inside him and making him forget everything other than your voice. Yes, he loved you—more deeply than he’d thought he’d ever love again—but he was afraid to be in love with you.

When he delivered the happy news that he’d be able to get cool air back into your apartment, he felt his heart swell at the look of relief on your face.

“You’re my hero, Pete,” you said earnestly, “Really and truly.”

You had no idea.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, “I’m the best.” He saw the pillow coming at him even before it fully left your hands and dodged it in a swift, graceful motion.

“That’s not very nice,” Peter grinned wolfishly at you and your heart fluttered, “Here I am helping you out like a dear old gentleman and you throw things at me.” With another two quick, almost instantaneous steps, he was at your bedside, his hands coming down to your ribcage, fingers curling in as he began to tickle you mercilessly. You couldn’t do much more than squeal, kicking gently to get him off of you, whining his name as you begged him to stop.

“Peter!” you cried out, “It’s too hot for this!” There were tears in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and your bottom lip was swollen from where you were biting it to try to keep control of your laughter. Looking down at you, Peter knew he was finished, absolutely doomed, to fall into the warm and beautiful void that was loving you.

His fingers paused their attack and you both seemed to take stock of the position you found yourself in; you, flat on your back in bed, hair a dishevelled mess haloed out over your head; him, legs spread so that they were straddling your hips, his arms on either side of your body, lean muscles holding him up.

“Pete—” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to where your bodies met, lashes wet with unshed tears.

He blinked once, twice, three times, a pregnant pause in the hot air before his brain supplied the two words he’d been wanting to hear, giving him permission to plunge forward. Fuck it.

“Y/N,” he licked his lips, “You—” his fingers moved from your ribs to the edge of your camisole, thumbing across its stitching, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes shot up to his, pupils dilated. Your lips twitched, uncertain. “Don’t do this,” you sighed, all the while your own hands moved as if of their own accord, coming to rub up and down his arms, caressing lightly over the rippling muscle.

“Do what?” he asked, hand pausing in its movement to slip under your shirt. He withdrew it immediately, hoping he’d not grossly misread the situation.

“Don’t start something with me that you won’t finish,” your voice was barely there, “I—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t utter those little words out loud, but you knew Peter understood. You could tell from the way he settled down closer to you, his lips running feather-light kisses along your collarbone, the way he brushed the lightly calloused pad of his thumb over your eyes.

“Y/N, I feel like I was finished the moment I met you,” he said, “And now I’d really like to give you a proper kiss, if you don’t mind.”

“Hopefully you’re as good at kissing as you are at running that mouth, Par—”

The words couldn’t finish leaving your lips because Peter’s shut them right back into your mouth. He kissed you gently at first, then ran his tongue along your lips, asking entrance which you granted easily enough. Your kiss went on for what felt like years, each of you learning the other with care and attention. His hands explored your body freely, eliciting small moans of approval that led him along a path he was memorizing and then his lips were navigating that same path, kissing and nipping at your shoulders, your clavicle, your navel, between your breasts at the edge of your shirt.

You were on fire as your hands tangled into his soft brown hair, nails gently massaging into his scalp. You knew, from the vibrations on his lips, that he liked the sensation and filed that information away for a later date.

Once he’d kissed all the way down to your ankles, Peter flopped onto the mattress beside you, watching as your chest heaved with pleasure.

“It feels even hotter in here than before,” he smirked, “I should go grab that part, yeah?”

You swatted at him, laughter on your lips. “You’re the worst, Peter Parker.”

He caught your hand in mid-air, wrapping his fingers around yours and gently squeezing your palm—once, twice, three times. Three squeezes for three little words that neither of you were ready to say yet, but that you would willingly show each other.

“I’m serious,” Peter said, “I’ll grab the part and a pizza and we can hang out, even though I’m the worst.”

You rolled your eyes again, still trying to steady your heart rate. “Like I said, my hero. How can I ever repay you?” For good measure, you placed the back of your hand against your forehead, faking a swoon.

Peter only looked at you with fire in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”

He was out of the room before you could throw another pillow at him. Shame.

Peter Parker

Masterlist

Slay

i’ll keep your brittle heart warm.

synopsis : peter was always on your mind, you were always on his, perhaps that would make him a little bit of a distraction.

pairing : frat!peter parker x reader

wc : 1k

warnings : FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFF, uhmmm soft making out !!! other than that… i guess peter being an absolute idiot (a down bad idiot), but even if this is cliché as hell, it’s super cute and fluffy :)

‎‎ masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi ! sorry the fic is a little late this week, but frat!peter has been on my mind constantly shehhsjsns <3 he’s leaning more towards the peter more than the frat butttt i wanted him to be a little softer for this one :) big big thank you to @strawberrystarcake for the help on the editing, and @toms-gf for giving me the idea (this one is for u hehe)

“parker, you joining us?” the familiar voice echoes from the other side of the room. peter winces, not at all because he was opposed to the idea, but he’d made plans with you.

“uh- i’ll catch up later? i have somewhere to be.” the boys, all spread out in various positions on the couch, smirked and ‘ooo’ed at the implications of that.

liam speaks first. “right, got plans with your girl?” peter nods.

“ooh, you’re so down bad, parker, it’s not even a joke anymore.” james, another one of his friends, gives him a soft shove.

maybe he was right.

peter had never planned for your arrangement to escalate into anything further than a fling, and though he had never been an expert when it came to matters of the heart, he knew that he was too far gone.

it wasn’t uncommon for him to find himself smiling at the thought of you. he was constantly lost in thought, and sometimes, it became difficult to snap him out of his dream-like state.

even when his mind wasn’t completely occupied by the thought of you, he found that you had been living rent free in a certain corner of his mind. he’d catch himself wondering about you or associating little things around him with you. 

he wasn’t all too familiar with this feeling, but it wasn’t unpleasant, just confusing to navigate.

he’s never felt this way before. his heart never fluttered at a subtle touch, he never felt like he was melting whenever someone walked into the room, he never felt his heartbeat race at mere eye contact.

but with you? you had him feeling everything all at once.

but, of course, he hasn’t told you this, any of this. but he had a gut feeling that you might feel the same way, and that was enough for him to allow himself to fall deeper, as irrational as it may be.

it was no longer ‘maybe he was right’, and peter knew. to put it simply, he was right.

“better get going, you don’t want your girl waiting on you,” trent blurts, interrupting peter’s train of thought.

“right. i’ll see you guys later?” peter says, the boys nod and wave him goodbye as he walks out the door.

“oh, love.” liam sighs dreamily as the rest of the boys snicker.

as soon as peter enters the library, he’s met with a sense of comforting familiarity. before anything had begun happening between the both of you, you two had spent a lot of your time in the halls of this library. whether it were nights filled with endless work, or simply wandering around in attempt to find books you could read together.

he knew exactly where to find you: a certain corner of the library that you claimed to be ‘warmer and cozier’ than anywhere else.

he spots you browsing the history section, your face scrunched up, clearly focused. he sees all your things, messily laid on top of a wooden table, the one you always use.

he smiles to himself before sneaking behind the bookshelf you were browsing, and just as you pull a book from the shelf, you catch a glint of brown eyes from the other side. you stay silent for a moment, before smiling at one another.

then you shove the book between you two, and the next thing peter hears are quick footsteps.

peter’s utterly confused, he didn’t notice the look of mischief written all over his face.

“baby?” he whisper shouts, scrambling around the area before catching a glimpse of your figure, running from one shelf to another.

then it hits him, you were messing with him.

his look of mischief matches yours once he realizes, he follows quickly behind you, and before you know it, you’re up against a bookshelf, inches away from peter.

“hi.” you send him a cheeky grin, one that he sends right back to you.

“you’re going to drive me crazy.” his eyes gaze softly at yours, before trailing down to your lips.

“i know.” you quip, before moving as fast as you can to try and run away once more.

“ab-up-up.” he tuts, catching you once more. his lips brush softly over yours, lingering for a moment, before he presses his lips against yours. one hand finds its way to your waist, he uses it to pull you closer towards him.

but you find yourself shoving him aside, “peter! this is why i came early!” you slowly make your way back to the table, peter trailing after you like a puppy.

“what do you mean?” it was as if you could hear the pout in his voice, so you don’t allow yourself to look back.

“you’re… very distracting.” you make sure your tone is soft, you didn’t mean it in a negative way and you wanted peter to know that.

“am not!” he takes your hand, turns you around, and suddenly, you’re inches away from him again.

“seriously!? look at what you’re doing!” this time, you couldn’t help but giggle.

“there it is.” he smiles softly, appearing pleased.

“there’s what?”

“that laugh i’ve been waiting to hear all day.” you’re pressed against one another, his warmth surrounded you. “permission to lean in, m’lady?” dork.

“permission granted.”

he leans in, your chest feels warm as your lips make contact. 

he cups your cheeks to pull you even closer, if possible, as if letting you go would be the end of him. your hands curl into his hair, you begin to feel goosebumps wherever his hands traveled; down your waist, approaching your thighs as he drew lazy patterns with his fingers.

you could never truly get over the way your lips pieced together perfectly, how it felt like his were caressing yours ever so softly.

whenever your lips part, he whispers soft words you can barely understand, like he’s taking it all in. he finds himself grinning into the kiss, which was apparently infectious, because so were you.

“told you! distraction.” 

“oh, shut up.” he says, before pulling you in once more.

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a/n : tysm for reading :) pls reblog to support your writers !!! requests are open !