Andrew Garfield X Reader - Blog Posts

I wanna see Tom Holland and/or Andrew Garfield read thirst tweets in character as Peter Parker and how they think he’d(respective to how they each portrayed him) react. I just think it’d be one of the most hysterical things to ever exist.

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 🫶

Thats for ALL the fandoms i'm in and it hurts like hell

me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

You're sick Love (TASM Peter Parker x male reader fluff)

Pairing: TASM Peter Parker x male reader

Synopsis: Peter come to see you aand find you sick, he decides to take care of you.

Note: Hello ! It's my first story here and I wrote it for a friend of mine :)

I apologise for the errors, English is not my first language!

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It was the end of his patrol around the city and Peter decide to come to see you. You were not here for high school today and he was worried because you didn't tell him. Swinging to your house, he finally land on the edge of your window. You usually let your window open but like always, the gentleman he is, knocks the glass. He wait little seconds but you don't come to see him, hell your room was so dark that maybe you're not here tonight.

Peter: Weird...Maybe he's sleeping.

Peter slide open your window and carefully enter your bedroom. He takes off his mask but the light wasn't the best ,and with a beautiful move, Peter was now on his butt with a loud sound. The intention of not wake you up failed when you turned the light on. The both of you look at each other with shock before laughing.

Peter: Hey Love.

Y/N: Hi Pete.

Peter: Sorry, it was not my intention to wake you.

Y/N: Well I didn't know there were spider who are make you up, interesting.

Peter: Yeahn they're new especially in New York.

You two laugh again before you start coughing a lot. With a worried gaze, Peter rush to your side and start rubbing your back delicately. You calm down and immediately your boyfriend's hand went on your forehead.

Peter: Wow ! You're burning, lay down I'll go to make you some soup. 

Y/N: It's 2 am baby, don't worry I'm okay. Just come cuddle with me.

Peter: No you're not, so I'll make some soup and I'll come back.

Y/N: Yeah spidey.

Peter: I love you.

You send him back a "I love you" back and Peter went to your kitchen. You can't help it but smile at how cute he was, you're really lucky to have him. You lay down and slowly you're eyes become heavy before slowly falling asleep.

Peter come back a few minutes later with a cup of a hand made soup and a blanket. He see you sleeping and feel a little guilty about waking you but it was for your health. Peter come near you and pet you hair slowly but you don't move, he shakes his head with a little smile.

Peter: Love, I know sleep is really great but you must eat something. Please wake up.

He pocks your cheek and this time, with a groan, you're now awake. Peter flash you a grin and give you the cup for you to drink it. You didn't know that he knows cooking but it was really delicious and warm. After finished it, Peter take it and put it on your desk, he smile at you with adoration in his eyes. You wanted to smile but instead a cold air make you sneeze and for Peter it was the most adorable sounds you make.

Y/N: Sorry about that.

Peter: It was absolutely adorable.

Y/N: Pfff, you're tired Parker. It was not cute

Peter: It was.

Y/N: It wasn't.

Peter: Yeah it was and you can't change my mind. 

You rolled your eyes at your stubborn boyfriend and quietly laugh with him. You lay down on your bed again and Peter join you rapidly.

Y/N: You'll be sick too.

Peter: Don't care, let me take care of you and cuddle you. And don't worry my immune system is he best in the world. Your sickness can't win with Spiderman in front of her.

Y/N: Ah yes, I'm sorry, my boyfriend is the amazing Spiderman.

Peter arms were now around your body and your head were on the crock of his neck. You both stay in this relaxing position and you start falling asleep rapidly. Peter arms hugs you more and place small kisses on your hair and forehead, you lean your body completely on his and you kiss his neck.

Y/N: Thank you so much for this...I love you baby

Peter: No problem Love, you really got me worried when you didn't show up today and didn't respond to my messages.

Y/N: I'm sorry, I just sleep all day

Peter: Yeah and now sleep because you need it.

Y/N: Yes mom.

Both of you slightly laugh at your joke and rapidly, in the arms of each other, you fall asleep on your boyfriend.

Peter: Goodnight my love, get better soon.

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A few days later:

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Thank you so much for reading this, I really hope that you liked it! :)

Sorry again for my grammar errors, English is not my first language :)

Sunflowers and Sunsets

TASM! Peter Parker X Reader

Just a quick little one-shot with the reader and Peter experiencing some fluff

"I'm here, Darling."

The tapping in the frame of the open window to your small New York City apartment caught your attention as you turned to the person in question. His voice had been extremely soft, as it usually was, and it has made your bones melt into the equivalent of butter. After a long and stressful day Peter Parker was the one person who could dig you out of the hole of negativity you so often found yourself residing in.

His tousled brown hair was a mess (courtesy of the wind) and although his face had been bandaged from his recent fight with OSCORP, he had a determined grin on his face. His features were that of a statue with how expressively lovely his smile lines creased into his skin and framed the lips that were even softer than his voice. His denim jeans and dark grey shirt as well as green overcoat added to the highschool boyish figure that you had come to be so familiar with in the past couple of months.

"Peter." You said, watching him climb in through the window and into your 70's modeled yellow kitchen. It wasn't quite night, no. It was still a bit sunny as the star went down and casted even more of that yellowy glow that you loved so much. It was so warm and inviting, almost like being enveloped into the largest hug. The only person that was able to radiate the same feeling was Peter, who looked very proud of himself for obtaining the paper bag stuffed into his coat.

With a short but loving embrace, you quickly turn your attention to what your boyfriend was holding in his hands.

"What's that?" You ask with a knowing smile, wondering how on earth you could've ended up with someone as perfect and caring as him.

"You know what it is, love." He smiled down at you and held your waist in his arms, pulling away slightly to withdraw the treat. Not fully leaving your frame, his touch sent positive shivers down your spine. He felt too perfect to be real. Too perfect to understand the harsh concepts of reality that of which he knew all too well due to being a superhero. Vigilante. There were a plethora of names for his line of work.

You watched the golden beams of light fracture in beautiful streams across his already glowing face. The dust particles that only became known due to the lighting were moving in spirals all over and glittering as they landed around your feet. His hair was so many magnificent shades of brown and your eyes hyper focused on every single strand that flew out of place, something that Peter always had regardless of his attempts at trying to be kempt.

"The snickerdoodle cookies." You said, seeming to be gasping for air as Peter's raw and beautiful presence was so entrancing; you found yourself lost in his brown eyes quite often.

The spicy but sweet scent of your favorite delectable filled your senses and you immediately felt at peace. At home. Such a wonderful sight before you and all around you. Love everywhere, not just with Peter but with the picture frames that showed the two of you. The flowers on the kitchen counter that he had picked up for you on one of his late-night swings. The color surrounding everything and leaving a warm feeling in the pot of your stomach; a feeling of absolute contempt.

You could live this way forever, you thought. And eventually, the two of you would.

SPIDERMAN

TASM! Peter Parker:

Bitch Onions: Absolutely ridiculous scenario in which you throw Andrew Garfield's chili dog off the Empire State building.

(Crack)

Cloud 9: Memories, danger, and a jar of peanut butter. Only happens when you're with Peter Parker.

(Romance/Slight Angst/Fluff)

Peter's Motivational Speech: Just a little drabble where the reader lets go of some anxiety to which their boyfriend calms them down.

(Romance/Fluff)

Sunflowers and Sunsets: small little one-shot where you're entranced by Peter and the loveliness of the upcoming afternoon.

(Romance/Fluff)

This is so cute, omg 😭 💛💛

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

summary: when peter finds himself in another universe like his, he never expects a pretty girl on the other side to completely throw him off.

CONTAINS ‘NO WAY HOME’ SPOILERS!!

masterlist.

STOP BECAUSE HIS SMILE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY </3

andrew!peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, flustered peter, cute lil moments and that’s kind of it? let me know if i missed any :)

don’t steal any of my work, thanks!

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𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 in a dark alleyway, breathing laboured as he had been swinging for the past thirty minutes out of boredom. The thump of his feet hitting the ground from a high level echoed down the empty area, not another presence apart from rats scurrying around, savaging for leftover foods.

He stood there for a moment, catching his breath with his hands on his knees bent over. Peter swallowed hardly, pushing himself up as he realised he owed Aunt May a new box of eggs after smashing the last.

His feet began to carry him away before a glowing light appeared in the corner of his eye. His spidey sense was going wild, increasing Peter’s curiosity as the more he turned his head to the glow; the more his spidey sense tingled.

“Peter! Peter” He heard his name called. He tilted his head to the side as the ominous glow spiralled into a circle, a clear new setting growing in the middle. Peter furrowed his brows behind the mask and looked around, wondering if this was meant for someone else. When no one seemed to respond to the people waving to him in the glow, Peter took it upon himself to retreat towards the mystery.

The closer he moved to the other side of the spiral, the more these people encouraged him. Peter had never met these people in his life so how on earth did they know his identity?

As Peter edged nearer to the entrance, he noticed the lookalike teenagers panic and take multiple hurried steps back. His curiosity got the better of him as he leaped into the separate setting and earning screams from everyone in the room at his presence.

Peter’s hands waved around trying to tell the people that he was harmless and only their friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. He tried waving at the four in the room, claiming everything is okay while a pillow was thrown at his stomach by a screaming older lady.

His hand raised to the top of his mask and ripped it off on one movement before his eyes scanned the room. The lady who had thrown the pillow had sprinted to the bottom of the stairs, the only boy (excluding Peter) was standing behind the table with his hands out like he was casting a spell. Peter’s eyes drifted to a young, possibly teenage girl stood behind a defensive arm, holding the most confused expression ever. There was a person standing infront of her, like the teenager needed protecting. His eyes travelled up the arm as then landed on you- Oh my God, you.

You were so beautiful. Your hair was falling from the clip secured loosely at the back of you head, locks of hair poking out the top. Your face looked concerned. Your eyebrows were scrunched slightly and your lips were twitched up and apart, showing your teeth which Peter knew you had a gorgeous smile. Peter admired the way your cheeks were flushed a light pink colour when he tore off his mask. His instant favourite part of you were your eyes. He noticed how they softened when you noticed the lack of danger in the room, your lashes adding another layer of beauty to your already perfect face.

“Who are you?” MJ pointed an excusing finger from behind your dominating form at the stranger who jumped through Dr Strange’s portal-magic thing? Peter’s gaze was still on your, “My name’s Peter Parker.” He said slowly, making sure everyone (mainly you but…) hung onto his words and processed them.

MJ looked up to your face, yours still looking at him. “That’s not possible!” She whispered harshly into your ear, making you snap out of your glare from the man.

Peter held his mask in his sweaty palms and lifted both to indicate his face, “I am the Spiderman from my world but yesterday,” His eyes widened and began tripping up on his words at attempts to explain infront of you. “I was just here!” He spoke with uncertainty and began to walk from his stationary spot in the room.

The three of you looked at each other as ‘Peter’ admired the room, gasps leaving his mouth as the house seemed to surprise him more than anything. “Multiverse theory?” He questioned, looking at you mainly. You muttered out a small yes and nodded your head rapidly as he fist pumped the air, letting out a small “I knew it!”

Ned tapped your shoulder and the three of you leaned in, “This has to be because of the spell!” He voice wandered. A hand on your back startled you before you felt Peter lean himself over you, his head hovering above your shoulder. “The spell?” He spoke with glee right next to your face. A beaming smile spread across his face, “A magic spell?” He smiled, feeling a softening glare from you.

Ned and MJ were quick to shake their heads as their voices overlapped one and other, “What spell? There was no spell!”. His excited demure tapped his fingers on your back, “There’s magic here too?” You felt his breath tingle on your cheek as small giggles fell from his lips.

MJ tugged your body back with a pull of your wrist, feeling Peter’s warm touch slip from your back and seeing his smile drop. “Prove it.” She spoke strongly, keeping your wrist in a tight hold. “Prove to us that you’re Spiderman, Peter Parker.”

The man tapped the sides of his suit, “I don’t carry an ID with me, kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing?” His nose scrunched in confusion.

MJ used the hand not holding you to pick up the piece of bread you had raised to your mouth, about to happily eat, to throw at the man in front of you. The bread tapped his chest and did zero harm physically or mentally to the man. His lips upturned and his shoulders shrugged, “Why did you do that?”

Her hand was held up in front of her in a pathetic defence. “She’s trying to see if you have the tingle thing.” You said for the furious girl beside you, thinking some man is trying to imitate her boyfriend.

Peter’s eyes snapped to yours as he heard your angelic voice for the first time, the sigh in your tone made Peter want to grab your face and kiss you so passionately (even though he’s just met you, he knows true love when he sees it.)

He swallowed down his inner voice and said “Yes, I have the tingle thing; just not for bread.” MJ wasn’t convinced.

MJ’s hand snatched to grab another piece and lifted it high in the air. “Can- can you not throw the bread again?” Peter said with confusion laced in his voice. “You’re a deeply mistrusting person,” He raised his hands and he backed away. “And I respect that.” He confessed before he jumped up and stuck his hand on the ceiling.

His legs and one arm holding his mask dangled, his eyes meeting yours and sending a subtle wink your way. Why were you blushing? MJ’s fingers pointed around the ceiling as a odd looking scowl was imprinted on her face. “Crawl around.”

“Crawl around?” He sounded almost offended. His eyes broke from yours as he shook his head with a certain, “No.”

“Yes. Crawl around.” MJ stood her ground.

“Why do I need to crawl around?”

“Because it’s not enough!”

“This is plenty.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“Nuh uh!”

“It is.”

Peter groaned, “How do I stick to the ceiling?” He squinted his eyes before another piece of bread was thrown at his chest, earning a small laugh from your beside the bickering teenager.

Ned’s grandmother tapped you on the shoulder and explained in the easiest way possible for you, “Ned’s grandma asked if you could get that cobweb in the corner there?” You asked on behalf of her with a scrunched nose, looking at the attractive man holding a face of ‘I’m done’ hanging from the ceiling.

Peter obliged to your words almost instantly as he stuffed his mask to hold in his teeth, as he lifted his body to be on all fours on the ceiling. Ned and MJ glanced at each other as he followed your rules easily and not theirs, both confused on his beg for attention from you.

He cleared the cobweb after a heartless ‘Thank you’ from Ned’s mum. Peter detached himself from the ceiling and landed on the floor directly in front of you.

His chest was close to yours and so were your faces. Your noses nudged slightly as his tall figure leaned over yours, the smile hidden behind his grip on the mask reflected your own. Tension swarmed the two of you as his hand brushed your own ever so slightly.

The unknown moment between the two of you was interrupted at both of your heads snapped towards the new voice in the room. “Wait a minute, he’s not your friend…” The new Peter looked questionably at your Peter.

A newfound silence flooded the room as the two practically had a stare off before they both webbed at each other and swiftly landed on the kitchen island.

Your Peter hopped off the counter and stood by your side, coming shoulder to shoulder with you as the two of you unintentionally blocked out most of new Peter’s words.

Your Peter’s hand grazed your fingers and lightly touched them in an invitation to hold. You opened your hand and felt his warm palm slip into yours. A smile tugged on your face at the heat rising to your prominent cheeks. Sending a teasing smile MJ’s way as she winked at Peter’s height against yours, holding your hand.

A goofy smile spread across Peter’s lips as he held hands with the pretty girl he would soon become more with.

actually love this :(

taglist (let me know if wished to be removed,, you will be tagged in later andrew!peter posts! let me know if you don’t want this haha!)

@tsukishimawhore

@weasleytwinscumslut

@flymeaway-karasuno

@morgane-stark

@panicatwakanda

@krishavania

@lavendersfairy

@jessica2008

@ancailinaerach

@softmullet

@jemimah-b99

@elarasstardust

@anecdoteissues

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Y/N: I couldn’t fix him.

Y/N: But I sure as hell could top him

Peter 3:

Less Dire Situations | 1

Part 2

Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3

Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja

I groan and slam my head on the table.

"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."

I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."

I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."

Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."

"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."

He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."

He smiles.

I make a face, "you're such a dad."

Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.

"You ever hear that before?"

"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."

I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."

I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.

Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."

I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."

"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.

"Ladies first," he motions and bows.

"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.

"True," he closes the door.

We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.

I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.

I point as I chew.

Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."

"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."

He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.

I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.

"What?"

I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.

"Don't joke like that."

I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."

Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.

I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.

I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.

I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.

I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"

I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.

He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"

I nod.

He shakes his head, "still not funny."

"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"

"Dark jokes are funny."

"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."

"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."

"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"

He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.

I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.

He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.

I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."

Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.

He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.

When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."

We stand in front of the entrance.

"And for walking me," I add.

He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."

I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.

"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.

I look back at him and raise my brows.

Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."

My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."

Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."

"Good," I nod back.

"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."

"Good night, Peter."

He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."

It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.

My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.

I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.

I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?

I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.

But there was nothing.

There was no news on Spiderman.

I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.

I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.

I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.

Why won't he just come?

I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.

I grab my towel and take a cold shower.

The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.

She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.

By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.

Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.

She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."

I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?

I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."

The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."

I turn to my drawing.

"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."

I release a chuckle and turn back to her.

"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.

"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.

"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"

I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.

"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"

I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."

I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."

I snort at the mention.

"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"

"Sure," I push my open book towards her.

"I mean your personal sketchbook."

I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.

She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."

Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."

I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.

Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.

My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"

I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."

"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"

"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."

"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.

I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.

After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"

I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.

"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."

She nods, "why not him?"

I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.

"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.

Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."

My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.

She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."

Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."

"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."

I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.

I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.

"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."

She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles when she walks away and so do I.

The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.

I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.

When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."

"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."

His brows quirk, "she did?"

"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."

Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"

"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."

He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."

I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."

"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."

Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."

I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."

Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.

At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.

I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.

"You okay?" Peter asks me.

I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.

Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.

The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.

"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.

My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.

I gulp and look forward.

As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.

"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.

"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.

He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.

"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"

Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.

"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'

My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."

Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."

My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.

Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."

"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."

"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"

I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.

"The regular for me too, Eduardo."

"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."

Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."

The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.

"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."

Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.

Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."

Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."

Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.

My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."

"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."

Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.

"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"

I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

A loud car honk from afar fills the air.

"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."

I chuckle under my breath.

The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.

"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."

Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."

I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."

He doesn't get to respond.

"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."

Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.

"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.

Peter and I halt at a bend.

He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.

He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.

"You know what, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."

I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.

Peter decided Spiderman did care.

He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.

There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.

It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.

He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.

And then he missed his morning alarms.

When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.

He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.

He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.

It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.

His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.

"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.

She gasps as her things escape her.

Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.

She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."

The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"

Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."

She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.

Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."

"Oh, you don't-"

"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"

"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."

"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."

Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."

She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.

They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.

"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."

Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."

She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"

He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."

The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."

Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.

Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."

That was your container.

"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"

Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.

"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."

He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."

Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."

Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.

Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.

He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.

Fuck his 2pm class.

He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.

He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.

He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.

Nothing.

He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.

The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.

"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.

Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.

"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.

Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.

Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."

"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"

Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.

"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."

"Wait, what?"

Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."

Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.

Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.

"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"

"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.

Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."

"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.

Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."

His stomach drops, "she was?"

"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."

Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.

"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.

Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"

Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."

Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.

At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.

Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.

The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.

He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.

He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.

He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.

He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.

And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.

"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.

He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.

You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.

He catches you.

You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.

Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"

You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"

The Last Time

Summary: Peter's on the verge of losing you after disappointing you yet again.

masterlist

He didn’t show, the night was over and Peter was nowhere to be found. 

You tried your best to mask your disappointment with a tall face as all the attendees started to trickle out of your college’s art exhibit, a handful of them congratulating and complimenting you on your artwork as they passed you. 

It wasn't until you saw May walking towards you with a sympathetic look on her face that you felt your facade falter, “I’m so sorry darling,” she said as she brought you into a hug squeezing you. 

“It’s fine, May. Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” You give her a sad smile pulling away from her. You take a deep breath, “May…I hate to do this but do you think I could get a raincheck on dinner tonight? I just want to go home.”

There’s a visible look of sadness on her face but she nods, “Of course you can, it’s beautiful by the way,” she says, angling her body to face your painting. 

You mimic her actions, giving your painting a one over, “Thanks, I wasn’t sure about letting them display it when my art professor–she's the director of the exhibit asked. But I’m glad I did, a lot of people seemed to like it.” 

“I can see why!” She exclaims. 

Just as you were about to speak, the voice of your professor cut through all the chatter, “Ladies and gentlemen the art exhibit is now closing! Please make your way to the exit!”

You motion for her to follow you as you head to the doors. “How are you getting home? I could give you a ride,” she questioned. You shake your head, "I don’t think I can be around a Parker right now, at least not without wanting to cry.” 

She frowns upon hearing your words, “Oh.” You push and hold the door open for her, “I know this is an unfair thing to ask of you but can you tell Peter I don’t want to hear from him anymore?” 

May freezes the second she makes it outside, fully processing what you just said, “I’m sure he’s sorry–” She’s trying to save him, you both know she is. “I’m sure he is but I’m not interested in hearing his poor excuse of an apology. He knew how important this was to me and he said he’d be here, but he’s not. There’s only so many times you can let a person disappoint you, May.” Your eyes well with tears as you think back to telling him about being a part of the exhibit and how he added opening night to the calendar on his phone as well as the one that hung in his room, even going as far as drawing a heart around the square.

Cars start to whizz by as the traffic light turns green and you let out a defeated sigh, opening your arms to hug her goodbye, “It’s getting late and I don’t want to miss the train, you should head home too.” This time she hugs you tightly, “Give me a call when you get home, alright?”

You nod your head in response, “Thank you for coming, it means a lot to me. Have a goodnight and drive safe, okay?” Her hold on you gets even tighter, mumbling a goodnight to you before releasing you. 

She stands still and watches you disappear down the street before pulling her phone out, attempting to reach Peter herself and when she's unable to, she leaves him a devastating voicemail, a voicemail he wouldn't hear until thirty minutes later when he was stood in front of ESU’s now dark and empty art center. 

“...She said doesn’t want to hear from you anymore and honestly? I don’t blame her. She watched the door all night for you. All night, Peter, all night! She looked so heartbroken. She was trying her best to hide it but that look on her face, it was soul-crushing. I think this is it for you, ‘there are only so many times you can let a person disappoint you’ those were her exact words. She’s disappointed in you and frankly so am I, I didn’t raise you to act like this. You fucked up big time, there’s no point in sugarcoating it. I adore that girl and I know you do too but you’re losing her…”

Peter could feel the panic rising in his chest as he listened, the thought of losing you made his stomach churn. There's a slight shake in his hand as he presses his phone to his ear, his breath is caught in his throat as he waits for the calls to start ringing, praying you hadn’t blocked him. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth when it does but when the rings halt and his phone buzzes with a text message from you, he could feel all the air leave his lungs. 

Sorry, I can’t talk right now.

Peter rushes to text you back; I’m so sorry honey. 

He can see that you read his message but when you don't respond, he sends you another, and another, and another.  

May left me a voicemail 

I know I fucked up 

And that I keep fucking up

But I can fix it 

Can we please talk? 

A spark of hope ignites within him as he watches the three dots appear on the screen but the feeling dwindles once he reads your message; It’s late, I’m tired and I don't want to hear or see you, please just leave me alone.  

Peter goes to respond but another message appears in the chat informing him that you had silenced your notifications. His eyes never leave the screen, reading and rereading all the texts you’d sent him throughout the night, heart getting heavier and heavier with every message. He knows he should just listen and let you be but he goes against your wishes and sends one last message, I love you, I’m sorry.

—————————————

The sound of your phone ringing slices through the noise of the hand mixer you were using and the crinkles of the paper bag your cat was playing with. You glance at the screen, eyes scanning the contact name before turning off the mixer, answering the call, and bringing it up to your ear, “Hello?” 

“Hello sweetheart, how are you feeling today?” Your elderly neighbor’s voice comes through clearly on the other end. A sigh leaves your lips, “Better, better than yesterday at least, I’m trying to keep myself occupied…giving baking a shot.” She hums in response, “Listen dear…I hate to be the bearer of bad news but he’s here.” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “What do you mean?” 

“That boy of yours. I’ve been watching him, he’s been standing at the door for the past half an hour.” You walk into the living room and over to the window, peeking through the blinds and sure enough there he was standing in front of the door of the duplex with his head hung low. “Do you want me to shoo him away? My grandson left his toy gun here the other day, you know the one with the foam bullets…I’ll take him out for you, sweetheart.” 

Despite being amused by her words, a frown forms on your face, “Stand down, Mrs. Temple. I’ll handle him.” 

“Alright, but if he gives you any trouble just let me know. I’ll give him hell.” Her soft voice now stern, “I know you will, remember how you asked me for his number last night cause you wanted to cuss him out?” You can hear her let out a huff on the other end before exclaiming, “He made you cry! I should go out there and jam my knitting needle through his eye.” 

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll just tell him to leave and everything will be fine. And oh! Before I forget, do you like funfetti cake? I’ll bring it up for you and Mr.Temple a few slices when it's done.” 

“We’d love that!” 

The two of you exchange goodbyes and end the call. You take a second to collect yourself, taking a deep breath before opening the window, “What are you doing here?” 

His head darts up, “Honey,” the sound of his voice catches the attention of your cat, who jumps on the windowsill to see him. He turns his entire body in your direction, digging his hands further into the pockets of his jacket, “Can we talk, please?” 

You shake your head, “I meant what I said, Peter, I don't want to see you. Just go home.” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut the window and draw the blinds close. You walk back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder expecting to see your cat following close behind but much to your surprise, he’s waiting by the door. The sight made your heart hurt, “Snaps… I’m sorry buddy but he’s not coming.” 

—————————————

Disaster. 

That’s exactly how you’d describe the state of your kitchen. Your sink was piled high with mixing bowls and baking pans but it was all worth it once you added the final dusting of rainbow sprinkles to the frosted cake. 

“Okay, Snaps, the cake is done, emergency chocolate chip cookies are in the oven. How do we feel about Coming to America tonight?” You ask aloud as you slice into the cake. 

You look up at him perched on the windowsill, head poking around the blinds to watch the rain pour outside.“I’m going to run upstairs, you stay he–” you’re cut off by your ringtone, “Hey Mrs. Temple, I was just about to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“He’s still here, dear.” Her words made you feel uneasy, “He came back?” 

“I’m not sure he ever left….he’s just sitting there.” You rush over to the window, pulling the blinds back, squinting your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of him on the stoop. “Oh my god! Can I call you back?” You didn't wait for her reply before ending the call. 

You can feel your chest tighten as you leave your apartment and make the short walk to the building’s entryway. You inhale sharply before opening the door, to reveal Peter scrabbling to his feet. The rain mercilessly beats against his already drenched skin, he looks completely exhausted. “Hi,” his voice comes out as a whisper. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have any idea of how sick you'll get?” You scold him, stepping aside and opening the door wider for him to enter. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out as he follows closely behind into your apartment, you ignore his words and the way Snaps starts to nuzzle against Peter’s leg only to pull away when he feels the cold and wet fabric of Peter’s jeans, “Go warm up in the shower, I’ll bring you a towel and some clothes,” you say walking into your bedroom. 

You search through your drawer for something warm, eventually settling on a pair of flannel pajamas bottoms he’d left at your place for the nights he slept over, the sweatshirt you’d slept in the night before, and a pair of your fuzzy socks he stole from you. 

You use your knuckle to knock on the bathroom door, “Peter? I’m coming in,” you said, turning the handle. “No, wait!” Peter calls out but he’s too late, you’ve already seen it. His suit. 

“What the fuck!” Your eyes go wide as you scan the spider symbol on his chest. 

Peter freezes, paralyzed by fear, this was not how you were supposed to find out. “It’s not what it looks like!” he blurts out, voice laced with panic. He watches your shoulder slump back and your eyes well with tears, you’ve never felt worse. 

“Please, don’t cry. I can explain–” the sound of the oven’s timer going off causes you to shift your focus, shoving the towel in his hands. “I laid some clothes out for you,” was all you said before hurrying towards the kitchen. 

—————————————

You were sprawled out on the couch, staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of it all. Every moment you spent with Peter replaying over and over again in your head, mentally berating yourself for not piecing everything together sooner. All the cuts and bruises you’ve cleaned and iced, the dates he missed ‘cause he ‘lost track of time’, every question he’d answer vaguely or just flat out avoid, every question you wanted to ask but held your tongue afraid you would come off as pushing or invasive and he’d leave. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing followed by Peter’s faint footsteps and a soft meow causes you to shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the impending conversation to be had. You listened intently as his steps got closer and closer until they stopped right in front of the couch, you had a feeling he was standing over you and your suspicions were confirmed when a droplet of water falling onto your forehead caused you to open your eyes. 

The sight of Peter cradling Snaps like a baby immediately comes into view, “Sorry about that,” he says, shifting your cat to support him with just one arm, and using his now free hand to wipe your forehead. 

“It’s fine,” you mumble, sitting up and scooting over, patting the spot next to you. 

An awkward silence falls over the room, neither of you not knowing where to begin, “Thank you for doing this– for letting me in.” Your leg bounces as you try to work up the nerve to finally address the elephant in the room, opening your mouth to speak but shutting it when no words seem to come out until, “So…you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter swallows thickly, “I am.” 

“Oh,” you say nervously fiddling with your fingers, “I guess it makes sense.” 

“It does?”

You shrug your shoulders, “The longer I think about it…yeah. I’ve always assumed that whoever was under the mask was too smart and too courageous for their own good, no one fits that description better than you. And then there's every single injury you’ve ever had ever, no one trips and falls that many times, Pete.” 

He was just about to say something until he hears you, whispering to yourself under your breath, “I can’t believe I dated a superhero.” 

“Dated?” He repeats back your use of past tense only adds to the unsettling feeling in his chest, you were giving up on him and he deserves it. 

You hum in response, “I know May told you what I said– about there only being a certain amount of times you can let someone disappoint you, and you are way past your limit. I think it’s better if we both just accept this is how things were meant to be. Look you can stay tonight but I think it’s best that in the morning all we are is strangers.” Your voice wavers at the end and it makes his heart plummet. 

Tears pool in his eyes, “S-strangers?” 

He shakes his head repeatedly, “No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–”

You furrow your brows at him, “And how exactly was this supposed to go?”

He hangs his head, glancing down at the cat looking back at him, Snaps stretches his paw out to touch his face, “We were supposed to talk it through, I went to the show- I bought flowers, they’re in my bag they're probably ruined now but I have them! I was going to tell you about being Spider-Man but then you weren’t there so I came here.”

“Me knowing about Spider-Man doesn’t really change anything.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“I guess It does-” he picks his head up as the words leave your mouth but it is quick to drop it again when you finish your speaking, “-just not in the way it counts.” 

“Oh,” he can feel his entire body deflate, “What does that mean?” 

 You let out a defeated sigh, “It means I understand why you were always running late or missing dates completely, and why you’ve shown up here sometimes looking as good as dead.” 

“But…?” 

“But it changes nothing about us, our relationship has never been a priority–”

He’s quick to cut you off, “That’s not true.” 

“But it is, Peter. You’ve had a million chances to prove otherwise and you haven’t. I love you-”

“I love you too.”

“-but I can’t keep doing this, I don’t have it in me anymore,” you wipe away the tears that start to roll down your cheeks. “You just aren’t reliable, Peter.”

“What if I could be reliable? Give you stability?” 

“Peter we’ve already been down this road before–” 

“It’s different this time,” he insists, “I haven’t been able to balance being me and being Spider-Man, I’ve lost so much because being Spider-Man has completely dictated my life and I was fine with it because all heroes have to make sacrifices but none of it is worth it if it means I lose you too.” 

Snaps wiggles out of Peter’s arms and onto the floor, giving Peter the chance to grab ahold of your hands, “I can be both and also give you stability, you deserve better and I’ll do everything I can to be better. I don’t want to lose you, Honey, I don’t. Please, let me show that I can be reliable–that our relationship is a priority.” 

Your silence is deafening, you do your best to avoid Peter’s pleading eyes as you weigh options,

“Parker, I swear to fucking god you better pray your lucky number is a million and one because this is the last time I’m ever doing this with you.”

He perks up immediately, eyes glistening as he processes what you said. His mouth opens but you start to speak before he’s able to get a word out, “If we’re doing this then there's a few rules I’d like to set and they’re all non-negotiable.” 

“Lay it on me.”

“Date night. Twice a month, no expectations. I don’t care if we go out or stay in, I just want a couple of nights off with my boyfriend. You flake, you’re out. Got it? ”

“Got it.”

“Wait, that made me feel like a bitch, to clarify that doesn’t apply to serious situations. I’m not going to stop you from helping or anything like that, I just want two nights out of the month reserved specifically for us.”

“I knew what you meant,” Peter reassures. 

“Could you call or text me when you get home after you’re done with Spider-Man stuff? I’d like to know you’re safe.” 

“Consider it done. Can I add a rule of my own?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Can you leave one of the windows in the bedroom unlocked for me? Since you know now I figured I could come over right after patrol and skip the whole ‘changing in an alley somewhere’ part.” 

“I can do that.” 

You stand up and start walking to the kitchen, “This isn’t a rule, it's a favor but could you run this up to Mrs.Temple? And before you ask, yes you can have some.” 

Peter trails behind you, eyes sparkling when he finally sees the baked goods on your countertop. “God, I love you,” he says, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek.

—————————————

Peter’s knuckles knocked against the door, he could hear shuffling around the room before the door opened revealing Mrs. Temple with a big smile plastered on her face. 

“Oh it’s you,” she says, her smile faltering. 

He holds out the plastic cake dish for her to take, “Uh yeah, Y/n’s asked me to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“Mmmhm…I heard what happened,” she eyed him up and down, “and by the looks of you being here, I assume my sweet girl forgave your ass?” 

Peter nods, “She did–” 

“We’ll I’m glad things worked out,” she steps closer, poking him in the chest with her finger, “But if you ever make my baby cry again, it will be the last thing you ever do.” She takes the dish from his hand, her next words were lower than a whisper, “I know a guy.” 

“Well, you and Y/n have a goodnight, tell her I’ll give her a call in the morning,” she adds before retreating back into her apartment.

“I don't think I’ve ever been more terrified of an elderly woman than I was just now,” were the first words to leave his mouth the second he returned to your apartment. 

“Oh god, did she threaten to shoot you?” 

His eyes bulged out of his head, “She has a gun?” 

You wave his question off, “No it's just a Nerf gun.”

His mouth forms into an ‘O’, “so the implication that she could put out a hit on me was a bluff?” 

“No, she really does know a guy, he’s nice.” 

—————————————

Extra:

Your head rested against Peter’s chest, the soft thumping of his heart mixed with his hand rubbing your back made your eyelids feel heavier. 

“Pete?” 

He grunted in response. 

“Why didn’t you go home? When I told you earlier?” 

“Home is where the heart is.” 

You pretend to gag at his statement, “That was too cheesy, even for you.” 

“It’s not cheesy, it's the truth and it’s endearing.” 

The Mechanics Of A Soul

spider-man meets his soulmate far before she ever gets to knows peter parker. soulmate au- at the age of 18, you can meet your soulmate. ty @gotkindabored bc u made this possibleee

Knowing her comes easy.

She taught him the meaning of a guilty pleasure.

Because that’s what this is, the way he swings up to her window, breathless and lacking in restraint, hungry eyes desperate to see the only person that can bring him any sort of peace.

She looks beautiful, of course. This is a constant, looking at her. She is a sort of lovely you can’t stop looking at, one that grows warmer and kinder the more you fall into it. He sees her through the window, like he always does, before he knocks. Her hair is tucked behind her ear, and she’s wearing the shorts she wears to bed, and she’s chewing on her lower lip nervously.

He knocks on her window twice, pauses and then knocks again. There’s no real reason to do their little ritual- she lives alone, and it’s not like anyone else would feasibly be at her window.

(He doesn’t like the thought of anyone else being there. Not one bit.)

But he knows there isn’t anyone else. Knows that he monopolizes her time in a way that if he was a better man, the guilt would have prevented him from coming over in the first place.

“Hey stranger,” she says. He wants to hate it, how her honey sweet drawl pulls him in. He wants it to be the magic, wants it to be the soulmate pull, but unfortunately for Peter’s will power, she seems to have a magnetic force of her own.

She doesn’t know his name.

“Hey to you too,” he says back, crawling through her window with, nimble body slipping through and sitting beside her on her bedspread.

He studies her face, a luxury she can’t indulge in.

“I missed you tonight,” her eyes are unwavering on him, and they’re heavy. It’s a weight he’s lucky to bear. “Were you safe out there?”

It’s a Friday night, and he knows she might be out with friends, might be with someone else right now, if it wasn’t for him. She picked this, to be here with him.

He wonders if she’d pick it if she knew him as more than Spider-Man.

“It was okay,” Peter replies, “I just got held up.”

By a bank robber, and yeah, he’s got a raging headache from the sirens, but he’s fine. He’s here.

“You look radiant,” he says, it’s so, so cheesy, but he’s looking at her and he can’t look away. She’s his favorite thing to look at.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but she’s preening. It’s a little much, how much pride he feels from it.

He’s not wearing his regular suit- in fact, he looks a bit ridiculous. He swung over in sweatpants, a sweatshirt and the mask. It helps the whole thing feel more normal, like she didn’t meet her soulmate in a cafe being robbed.

It takes a couple of minutes, but they settle into their little groove- her laying on his chest, her little TV playing a show they binge together, his fingers running through her hair. It’s more peace than he ever imagined for himself.

He knows it. He knows she deserves more from the soul she was meant to love. And it doesn’t seem fair, that someone as kind as her has to love someone who can only give her half of himself.

Still, the night is young and she’s the love of his life, and this is more than he deserves.

The next time Peter sees her, he doesn’t have the mask on.

Of course, she doesn’t know who he is, and he’s planted to the ground, looking at her.

She’s fucking gorgeous. She looks like something out of a dream, and Peter wasn’t expecting to see the love of his life right now.

He should’ve checked the roster for the class he’s in, but he didn’t think to- he didn’t even know she went to the same university as he did.

He looks awful. Did he even do his hair this morning? She liked that actor with glasses, why the fuck didn’t he wear his glasses-

“Hey, you’re Peter, right?”

Peter.

He must look crazy right now, how he’s reacting to her saying his name- but she’s heard him say her name before. She’s never said his. He’s never heard the way it sounds, how her sweet tone wraps around the syllables, and he wants to hear it again.

“You know my name?”

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She asks, and he nods, faster than probably seems normal.

“Yeah, of course, go ahead.”

He’s talking too much.

“And yeah! We went to high school together. You took photos for yearbook, right?”

She knew who he was.

“Yeah,” he stammered back, “I did. I didn’t know you went to Midtown.”

Idiot.

“I think we ran in different circles,” she replies, “But it’s good to see you again.”

He was in her bed last night. He knows what shampoo she uses, knows how she feels pressed up against him, knows her heart like the back of his hand.

“It’s good to see you too.”

She giggles at that, and there it is, that burst of warmth in his chest. His girl.

And Peter doesn’t know if its their soul bond or just the fact that he’s in love with her, but the whole lecture (which he couldn’t tell you a thing about) is spent passing notes, genuine notes. Little scraps of paper, pieces of his heart on a line notebook.

It’s a waltz he told himself from day one that he’d never get to dance. Knowing her as Peter is scary. He can’t call her radiant. He isn’t a hero, isn’t even a particularly cool guy. He’s just in love.

She still smiles at his jokes, though.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says, when he sneaks into her bedroom. This is routine, a pattern he adores, but this time it is different. She knows both versions of him. Not together, but she knows him.

She is of course, none the wiser. Her smile blooms like a rose, and he feels so selfish when she pulls him into an embrace. There’s a candle on, a dim lamp illuminating her beautiful face, and he shouldn’t be doing this.

It’s hedonistic. How can he be so greedy for her affection, take it as both versions of himself? It hardly seems fair.

“Are you okay?” her voice is muffled by his shirt, concern buried in her tone.

“I’m perfect,” he replies, “I’ve got you.”

It’s a delicate balance, and it doesn’t feel fair to her, but Peter is lucky.

It started simple enough, with them getting coffee after class, exchanging study details. Days slip into nights, hours into months, and she knows Peter. She knows him.

It’s easy with her. She loves the scent of vanilla and tells him about her favorite writers and Peter could spend years listening to her voice. And it’s not fair to her, to be two people, neither of which she can fully have.

A treacherous part of him wonders if she likes him as Peter.

Soulmates are one of those controversial things, but Peter- he had always wanted to meet his soulmate. He’d grown up watching Ben and May, how they danced to their favorite songs in the kitchen, how they seem to revolve around each other like oak trees, roots that had tangled together so much that separation seemed an improbable impossibility.

When he was a little boy, he wondered what his soulmate would be like. How would they look? Would they be kind? Would they want him back?

And god, she’s so much better than he could’ve ever imagined.

He never imagined he’d have to hide himself from her.

Gwen had left, and couldn’t blame her. She’d almost died, and it had scared her, and Peter- he knows that being with him is a flight risk, knows that loving him means a bit of self-sacrifice.

If he was a better man, he wouldn’t have gotten in this deep.

She’s his soulmate. There aren’t words to describe it, what it means to have her, what it means to be here, in the room with the other half of his heart.

He cannot risk it.

The tightrope walk had to end at some point, he supposes.

The liminal space finally ends on Saturday afternoon.

He’s Spider-Man to her, right now. It’s getting hard to keep track of what she knows about each version of him- he often almost slips, almost calls her darling when she can see his face.

“I have to ask you something.”

Peter knows what she is going to say before she opens her mouth.

There’s that sick feeling in his throat, the sense of dread.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s this guy in my class,” she says, and fuck, it’s like the world is in slow motion, like a bad movie, “And I think he likes me.”

Of course someone likes her. Of course they do. Liking her Is the natural succession of events after meeting her.

“Yeah?”

He wants to sound practiced. Poised. In control.

He doesn’t want to sound like he’s shaking, like the ground could fall out from under him at any given moment.

Like he’s about to lose the love of his life.

“It’s confusing for me, because you’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way around, and I didn’t I was able to feel this way around anyone else. You’re my soulmate.”

The term feels strange in Peter’s head, lulls around his mouth like a bitter candy. He normally loves that word. Carries the pride around like a limb, a piece of himself.

She’s right. She isn’t supposed to feel that way for anyone else. But anything’s possible, right?

He should say something. He knows he should. Except he can’t, feels like he’s going to choke on the too-thick air surrounding him.

It shouldn’t really be possible, Peter thinks to himself.

He’s supposed to be what she needs. He’s not supposed to have been able to mess this up.

“I see,” Peter replies, his voice isn’t loud enough. He should pull off his mask. He should say something. Anything. “Do you, uh, do you like him?”

He thinks back on it, nights where she plays music that sounds like if a fireplace embers had a more corporeal form, hours of time slipped into a space he never wished to leave.

It’s like watching a car crash. He’s just waiting for it to end.

He’d been naive.

She runs her hands through her hair, a nervous gesture he’s always been so endeared by, and this time, all it does is pull at the ache in his chest so much it almost tears it in half.

“His name is Peter.”

Oh. Oh.

It can’t be him.

“And he’s just- I don’t even know, he was in my class, and he’s my friend-“

“Photography class?”

He knows he sounds desperate, but he can’t care. And she’s closer to him, he can’t help it- she smells like roses and she’s looking up at him, wide doe eyes peering back at him. God, he’d do just about anything for her to mean it.

For her to have picked every version of him she’d know.

She nods, gingerly, and every breath feels like hope incarnate.

“Peter Parker?”

Realization blooms across her delicate features, and his heart beat’s so, so fast. Even still, she’s so close to him. He can feel her breath.

He’d pictured this moment before. Not that he ever believed it would come true, but in his more vulnerable moments of self indulgence, he would allow himself to consider what it would be like. He thought he’d get her flowers, propose some sort of affectation worthy of her time.

Loving her follows a rhythm, the beats of a song his soul had him dance to, until he could make the acquaintance of the woman he was meant to spend his life loving.

When she kisses him, arms wrapped around his waist, a helpless smile and an ardent urgency to her movements, far too late and still, always, just on time- he knows.

Every version of him was always going to end up here.

The Mechanics Of A Soul

spider-man meets his soulmate far before she ever gets to knows peter parker. soulmate au- at the age of 18, you can meet your soulmate. ty @gotkindabored bc u made this possibleee

Knowing her comes easy.

She taught him the meaning of a guilty pleasure.

Because that’s what this is, the way he swings up to her window, breathless and lacking in restraint, hungry eyes desperate to see the only person that can bring him any sort of peace.

She looks beautiful, of course. This is a constant, looking at her. She is a sort of lovely you can’t stop looking at, one that grows warmer and kinder the more you fall into it. He sees her through the window, like he always does, before he knocks. Her hair is tucked behind her ear, and she’s wearing the shorts she wears to bed, and she’s chewing on her lower lip nervously.

He knocks on her window twice, pauses and then knocks again. There’s no real reason to do their little ritual- she lives alone, and it’s not like anyone else would feasibly be at her window.

(He doesn’t like the thought of anyone else being there. Not one bit.)

But he knows there isn’t anyone else. Knows that he monopolizes her time in a way that if he was a better man, the guilt would have prevented him from coming over in the first place.

“Hey stranger,” she says. He wants to hate it, how her honey sweet drawl pulls him in. He wants it to be the magic, wants it to be the soulmate pull, but unfortunately for Peter’s will power, she seems to have a magnetic force of her own.

She doesn’t know his name.

“Hey to you too,” he says back, crawling through her window with, nimble body slipping through and sitting beside her on her bedspread.

He studies her face, a luxury she can’t indulge in.

“I missed you tonight,” her eyes are unwavering on him, and they’re heavy. It’s a weight he’s lucky to bear. “Were you safe out there?”

It’s a Friday night, and he knows she might be out with friends, might be with someone else right now, if it wasn’t for him. She picked this, to be here with him.

He wonders if she’d pick it if she knew him as more than Spider-Man.

“It was okay,” Peter replies, “I just got held up.”

By a bank robber, and yeah, he’s got a raging headache from the sirens, but he’s fine. He’s here.

“You look radiant,” he says, it’s so, so cheesy, but he’s looking at her and he can’t look away. She’s his favorite thing to look at.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but she’s preening. It’s a little much, how much pride he feels from it.

He’s not wearing his regular suit- in fact, he looks a bit ridiculous. He swung over in sweatpants, a sweatshirt and the mask. It helps the whole thing feel more normal, like she didn’t meet her soulmate in a cafe being robbed.

It takes a couple of minutes, but they settle into their little groove- her laying on his chest, her little TV playing a show they binge together, his fingers running through her hair. It’s more peace than he ever imagined for himself.

He knows it. He knows she deserves more from the soul she was meant to love. And it doesn’t seem fair, that someone as kind as her has to love someone who can only give her half of himself.

Still, the night is young and she’s the love of his life, and this is more than he deserves.

The next time Peter sees her, he doesn’t have the mask on.

Of course, she doesn’t know who he is, and he’s planted to the ground, looking at her.

She’s fucking gorgeous. She looks like something out of a dream, and Peter wasn’t expecting to see the love of his life right now.

He should’ve checked the roster for the class he’s in, but he didn’t think to- he didn’t even know she went to the same university as he did.

He looks awful. Did he even do his hair this morning? She liked that actor with glasses, why the fuck didn’t he wear his glasses-

“Hey, you’re Peter, right?”

Peter.

He must look crazy right now, how he’s reacting to her saying his name- but she’s heard him say her name before. She’s never said his. He’s never heard the way it sounds, how her sweet tone wraps around the syllables, and he wants to hear it again.

“You know my name?”

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She asks, and he nods, faster than probably seems normal.

“Yeah, of course, go ahead.”

He’s talking too much.

“And yeah! We went to high school together. You took photos for yearbook, right?”

She knew who he was.

“Yeah,” he stammered back, “I did. I didn’t know you went to Midtown.”

Idiot.

“I think we ran in different circles,” she replies, “But it’s good to see you again.”

He was in her bed last night. He knows what shampoo she uses, knows how she feels pressed up against him, knows her heart like the back of his hand.

“It’s good to see you too.”

She giggles at that, and there it is, that burst of warmth in his chest. His girl.

And Peter doesn’t know if its their soul bond or just the fact that he’s in love with her, but the whole lecture (which he couldn’t tell you a thing about) is spent passing notes, genuine notes. Little scraps of paper, pieces of his heart on a line notebook.

It’s a waltz he told himself from day one that he’d never get to dance. Knowing her as Peter is scary. He can’t call her radiant. He isn’t a hero, isn’t even a particularly cool guy. He’s just in love.

She still smiles at his jokes, though.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says, when he sneaks into her bedroom. This is routine, a pattern he adores, but this time it is different. She knows both versions of him. Not together, but she knows him.

She is of course, none the wiser. Her smile blooms like a rose, and he feels so selfish when she pulls him into an embrace. There’s a candle on, a dim lamp illuminating her beautiful face, and he shouldn’t be doing this.

It’s hedonistic. How can he be so greedy for her affection, take it as both versions of himself? It hardly seems fair.

“Are you okay?” her voice is muffled by his shirt, concern buried in her tone.

“I’m perfect,” he replies, “I’ve got you.”

It’s a delicate balance, and it doesn’t feel fair to her, but Peter is lucky.

It started simple enough, with them getting coffee after class, exchanging study details. Days slip into nights, hours into months, and she knows Peter. She knows him.

It’s easy with her. She loves the scent of vanilla and tells him about her favorite writers and Peter could spend years listening to her voice. And it’s not fair to her, to be two people, neither of which she can fully have.

A treacherous part of him wonders if she likes him as Peter.

Soulmates are one of those controversial things, but Peter- he had always wanted to meet his soulmate. He’d grown up watching Ben and May, how they danced to their favorite songs in the kitchen, how they seem to revolve around each other like oak trees, roots that had tangled together so much that separation seemed an improbable impossibility.

When he was a little boy, he wondered what his soulmate would be like. How would they look? Would they be kind? Would they want him back?

And god, she’s so much better than he could’ve ever imagined.

He never imagined he’d have to hide himself from her.

Gwen had left, and couldn’t blame her. She’d almost died, and it had scared her, and Peter- he knows that being with him is a flight risk, knows that loving him means a bit of self-sacrifice.

If he was a better man, he wouldn’t have gotten in this deep.

She’s his soulmate. There aren’t words to describe it, what it means to have her, what it means to be here, in the room with the other half of his heart.

He cannot risk it.

The tightrope walk had to end at some point, he supposes.

The liminal space finally ends on Saturday afternoon.

He’s Spider-Man to her, right now. It’s getting hard to keep track of what she knows about each version of him- he often almost slips, almost calls her darling when she can see his face.

“I have to ask you something.”

Peter knows what she is going to say before she opens her mouth.

There’s that sick feeling in his throat, the sense of dread.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s this guy in my class,” she says, and fuck, it’s like the world is in slow motion, like a bad movie, “And I think he likes me.”

Of course someone likes her. Of course they do. Liking her Is the natural succession of events after meeting her.

“Yeah?”

He wants to sound practiced. Poised. In control.

He doesn’t want to sound like he’s shaking, like the ground could fall out from under him at any given moment.

Like he’s about to lose the love of his life.

“It’s confusing for me, because you’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way around, and I didn’t I was able to feel this way around anyone else. You’re my soulmate.”

The term feels strange in Peter’s head, lulls around his mouth like a bitter candy. He normally loves that word. Carries the pride around like a limb, a piece of himself.

She’s right. She isn’t supposed to feel that way for anyone else. But anything’s possible, right?

He should say something. He knows he should. Except he can’t, feels like he’s going to choke on the too-thick air surrounding him.

It shouldn’t really be possible, Peter thinks to himself.

He’s supposed to be what she needs. He’s not supposed to have been able to mess this up.

“I see,” Peter replies, his voice isn’t loud enough. He should pull off his mask. He should say something. Anything. “Do you, uh, do you like him?”

He thinks back on it, nights where she plays music that sounds like if a fireplace embers had a more corporeal form, hours of time slipped into a space he never wished to leave.

It’s like watching a car crash. He’s just waiting for it to end.

He’d been naive.

She runs her hands through her hair, a nervous gesture he’s always been so endeared by, and this time, all it does is pull at the ache in his chest so much it almost tears it in half.

“His name is Peter.”

Oh. Oh.

It can’t be him.

“And he’s just- I don’t even know, he was in my class, and he’s my friend-“

“Photography class?”

He knows he sounds desperate, but he can’t care. And she’s closer to him, he can’t help it- she smells like roses and she’s looking up at him, wide doe eyes peering back at him. God, he’d do just about anything for her to mean it.

For her to have picked every version of him she’d know.

She nods, gingerly, and every breath feels like hope incarnate.

“Peter Parker?”

Realization blooms across her delicate features, and his heart beat’s so, so fast. Even still, she’s so close to him. He can feel her breath.

He’d pictured this moment before. Not that he ever believed it would come true, but in his more vulnerable moments of self indulgence, he would allow himself to consider what it would be like. He thought he’d get her flowers, propose some sort of affectation worthy of her time.

Loving her follows a rhythm, the beats of a song his soul had him dance to, until he could make the acquaintance of the woman he was meant to spend his life loving.

When she kisses him, arms wrapped around his waist, a helpless smile and an ardent urgency to her movements, far too late and still, always, just on time- he knows.

Every version of him was always going to end up here.