hello! <3 thought I'd update my pinned post since it's been six months I've had this account and a lot has changed!
my name is grey and I am 18 years old, I grew up in london but currently living in brighton for uni! this is a very heavily music based blog, plus mainstream film/tv — I've got a couple heavy obsessions that are pretty steady on this account (marvel, shoot from the hip, stranger things, etc) and many more that simply come and go!
my pronouns are they/she but in general I don't mind how you refer to me :)
please chat! send me asks, request stories, everyone is welcome! in fact, below I have a list of all the people I write for (and the topics I'm uncomfortable with writing please keep a note of this!)
one of my main current obsessions is stranger things — I have been watching stranger things since s2 (i definitely shouldn't have been watching it but i have! shush don't tell my parents) and am a major major fan
fyi I have been listening to djo since mortal projections was released as a single for twenty twenty and I'm very protective of him, call me parasocial I'm beginning to own it lmao and I will be gatekeeping him for as long as a possibly can :D
I am also a major marvel fan (bucky barnes ily) so when doomsday comes out expect a revival of that obsession, plus I'm very into comedy at the moment (bo burnham, john mulaney etc) so if they pop up, expect them here <3
music I listen to: djo, the clash, hayley williams, goat girl, poppy, billie holiday, elis regina, declan mckenna, james marriott, greta isaac, jamiroquai, steely dan (+many many more, feel free to recommend artists as you can see I literally listen to everything)
Because I’m tired of fighting with people in TikTok comment sections.
Peter Benjamin Parker was born August 10th, 2001. This date is a callback to Spider-Man's first appearance in The Amazing Fantasy #15 comics, which premiered in August of 1962. Some iterations have his birthday as August 27th, but Peter’s passport shown in the trailer for Spider-Man: Far From Home officially confirms his birthdate. The year of his birth being 2001 coincides with his age throughout different films in the MCU, as well as being listed in the official Marvel Cinematic Universe Wiki.
The age in which he would have moved in with his Aunt and Uncle has yet to be determined, as we have not gotten any concrete evidence. What we do know for sure is that Aunt May raised him. Although Uncle Ben has yet to be mentioned by name, Peter alluded to his existence in Spider-Man: Homecoming:
Peter: Ned, May cannot know. I cannot do that to her right now, you know? I mean, everything that’s happened with her, I... Please.
There was also a deleted scene mentioned by John Goldstein, who co-wrote Homecoming with John Francis Daley. This would have the character’s mention Ben Parker by name.
Another confirmation is in the series “What if.” The whole point of that series is that it is canon up until one specific point, in which the story diverges into a new variation.
Watcher: But in another universe, a single choice created a whole new hero. All this to make one Super Soldier….There. That's the moment that created a new universe. When asked to leave the room, Margaret "Peggy" Carter chose to stay. But soon it would be her venturing into the unknown and creating a new world.
In Episode 5 of What if, Peter mentions Ben as someone he has previously lost, confirming his existence in the MCU.
Peter: Practice, I guess. My mom, dad, Uncle Ben, Mr. Stark. Now Happy. I've... I've lost a lot. But my Aunt May says... used to say, that if we don't keep smiling when they can't, then we might as well just be gone, too. And... Well, they'd want us to keep going.
We also see Peter’s briefcase contain the initials “B.F.P”, further solidifying his existence in the MCU.
In the comic’s, Peter’s parents died in a plane crash. In the TASM series, Peter is four years old when his parents say goodbye to him for the last time. From what I could find in my research, Peter’s age varies and has never been confirmed, although it is pretty certain that he was between the ages of infancy up until six years old. This would mean Mary and Richard Parker would have passed away between the years 2001-2007.
We first meet Peter Parker in Civil War. This is where the concrete dates become a little bit harder to track. Most people place Captain America: Civil War in June 2016.
Peter mentions in his conversation with Tony that he's had his powers for 6 months, meaning that he would have been bitten by the spider sometime around January 2016.
This would line up with Peter’s age in Civil War (14 years old.) We also know that there is a two month time skip between Peter being dropped off at his Apartment by Tony Stark and Happy Hogan and the start of Homecoming.
Bronx School of Science, the real life Science School Midtown High is based on, had its first day of classes on September 8th for the 2016-2017 school year. This would place that scene in the car in early July, which still lines up with the approximate timeline of civil war (depending on when this scene takes place in the continuity.)
This also lines up with Peter’s age, as he is supposed to be 14 in Civil War and 15 in Homecoming. Peter would have celebrated a birthday in the two month time jump. This also lends credence to Tony calling Peter a “fourteen year old kid,” after the Ferry incident; as Peter would have been 14 when he initially did his research on him.
The Academic Decathlon is said to take place between October 13th-15th, According to a poster visible in the movie. There is another poster contradicting this information, placing the Academic Decathlon a month earlier in September. This could be a continuity error, but a better in world explanation would be that the poster claiming the competition is in September is from the year previous. The poster itself is shown to be in Peter’s room, and he could have held on to it since it wouldn’t be a jump to assume he was on the team the year before, especially as the teams are established the year prior.
Of course, this is all assumption, it could still very well be taking place in September.
American Homecoming is typically set late September and can happen as late as October. This would place Homecoming sometime late October. If you are working on the assumption that the poster in Peter’s room is the correct date, Homecoming can take place as early as late September, as the Homecoming dance is the last major event in the movie.
Spider-Man Homecoming ends with Peter being offered a spot on the Avengers. This scene can take place anytime in the school year, but presumably not too long after the events of homecoming. I would guess the end of October early November, but that’s fully a guess. It doesn’t seem to be Christmas just yet, with no snow and warmish weather, but it could also take place as far as April/May 2017. Peter would still be fifteen at the end, regardless of this fact.
There is a significant jump between Homecoming and Avengers: Infinity War.
Infinity War takes place in April 2018, making Peter Parker 16 years old. From Tony and Peter’s interactions, they have definitely had some level of a maintained relationship in that year/ year and a half between the two movies. This is a topic the producers, Jon Favreau, Robert Downey Jr. and Tom Holland have all commented on. We don’t know exactly how long there is between the start and the end of Infinity war, but it can’t have been longer than a few days.
Peter was snapped in April 2018, and returned on the same day of the final battle in Endgame, sometime in October 2023. He would still be 16 years old, as you do not age when blipped from existence.
By his literal birthday, Peter would not turn 17 until his next birthday, which is on August 10th, 2024. Biologically, as they weren’t snapped away for exactly 5 years, he would hit 17 sometime in April 2024. For simplicity's sake, we are still going to use his birthday as a marker for his age, which is what they do in the MCU.
Far From Home takes place 8 months after the blip, placing it in June 2024. This lines up with Peter’s age (“I’m 16!” to Beck in the bar) and the fact that School trips to Europe typically take place in June. We don’t know how much time takes place between the end of Far From Home and the end credit scene/the beginning of No Way Home, but we do know it takes place after August 10th, as J.J. Jameson notes that Peter is a “17 year old boy from Queens.” We also know that it takes place before the start of the school year, as we see Peter’s first day of class after the fact. This places the start of the film anytime after August 11th, 2024 and before the beginning of September, 2024.
The final scene of the movie shows that it takes place around Christmas time. Peter has not completed his High School Diploma, and Ned and MJ are still in New York, meaning that their senior year is not yet complete. This places the end of the movie is set in December 2024, right at the same time as Hawkeye. Hawkeye takes place Christmas 2024, as shown by an invitation to Kate’s Mother’s Party, which shows the date as December 2024.
There is another sign that shows that it’s “New Year 2025.”
This date would make Peter Parker 17 at the end of the film, NOT 18 as some people have placed him. The only argument typically used here is the fact that seniors are usually 18, but that’s not taking into account his birthday. He’s an August baby, making him the youngest of his year.
(Take it from me, an August baby myself. I only turned 18 several months after I completed high school.)
There you go, a complete timeline of events. Use it to write fic, win arguments- I don’t care.
me reading though the go3 tag as someone that actually loved the ending and thought their decision was a perfect characterisation
because here's the thing, no heaven, no hell, what happens when humans die? what else is there?
reincarnation.
aziraphale and crowley get to relive each other over and over again, they get eternity together but in the most human way possible
as aziraphale said themselves (well about Adam, but i like to think its applicable here too) they aren't heaven incarnate or hell incarnate, but human incarnate. so they aren't immortal beings, they will still find each other in every life they live, and thats what is important
no kiss? sure, its upsetting, but a queer couple shouldn't need to kiss for you to understand their bond, their love. it was made very clear both pre-reset and post-reset that they love and care for each other so much
but they also care about humanity, and are willing to put that above their own memories, their own relationship
content warnings: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of sex, reader gets drunk (i'm sober idk what it's like to get drunk, it will be inaccurate, sorry), awkward peter, reader has been having dreams of peter (but they're actually real and her old memories), ex's to lovers, but she doesn't remember him, amnesia trope i suppose, reader should need more convincing but let's be real, this is fanfiction, its supposed to be unrealistic
summary: you've been having dreams about this man for the past year... why does it all feel so real. and... wait, how the hell is this guy at this party your friend forced you to?
word count: 6k
author's note: so... i'm not back! probably. uni has been a bitch, i thought I killed my laptop today and I have an exam tomorrow but fuck it we ball have a fanfiction about peter parker because brand new day comes out soon and I'm so excited
JUNE, 2024
"Do you think that dreams are alternate realities?"
The question kind of came from nowhere. Well — it had been on your mind a lot, and especially recently. Especially on patrol, especially when you were sat, legs dangling off the edge of the high risers in lower Manhattan, with him sat next to you. You don't know why you thought about it more when he was around, you just did. And you could barely even explain yourself without giving everything away.
Spiderman turns to face you, mask covering his face because you don't know who he is, but you can still tell — he's got his eyebrows furrowed at you. He's confused. The two of you had been sat in silence for the past ten or even fifteen minutes and then suddenly you blurt that out. You couldn't even help it. It just… happened. And now you would be forced to explain yourself.
You don't know Spiderman. You know him in the sense of you fight crime together, you meet up on rooftops in the middle of the night and scout out people doing wrong and sort it out, save people from danger, etc.
But you don't know him. You don't know his favourite colour, or what he does for work, or hell, even school. You don't know his likes and his dislikes. You don't know who his friends are, what motivates him to get up in the morning.
You don't know who he is.
So then why do you feel like you do? It doesn't make any sense. It keeps you up at night, trying to figure it out. You don't know who he is and he doesn't know who you are, so why does it feel like you've been friends for years and years? Why does it feel like he knows you like the back of your hand? How you manage to work so smoothly together as heroes if you've only been doing it a month or two — it didn't make sense.
"What?" He asks, perched on the edge of the building next to you, literally on the edge, not worrying about falling because well — the spider thing, you know.
You shrug, stumbling over the beginning of your sentence, trying to figure out out exactly to word it without sounding crazy because if you were being honest… it was crazy. "Well… you know the theory, surely? That when we dream, we're just experiencing other realities in the multiverse that different versions of us are actually living. I mean — we know so little about the unconscious mind that I reckon it's pos—"
Spiderman chuckles a little, shaking his head but still not letting his eyes leave you. "Alright, okay. Yeah, I know the theory. What's brought this on?"
Here we go.
Because there's been this guy. That's all he is. You think. You don't know and — that's the problem. Around 85% of the dreams you've had in the past year or so (you know, you've done the maths), there's been this guy in your dreams.
Holding your hand, kissing your cheek, taking you on dates to the movies and sitting next to you in class. Laughing along with you, hell — even meeting your parents. And it all feels so real. It all feels like something you've experienced before. It all feels like something that has happened to you before and somehow your brain has just forgotten.
But how could you forget something like that? Something so incredible, so real, so full of love and care and everything you wish you could have.
You explain it to Spiderman, making sure not to look him in the eye because you think you would die of embarrassment if you saw his reaction. But who else were you supposed to tell? In fact, it was probably best for you to tell someone that had no idea who you were, because if you were ridiculed for this, made fun of by Spiderman — which would be crazy but you're ready for any reaction — you had no obligation to stick around with him.
Once you've finished, your voice calms, having rambled on for quite a bit, only stopping once you realised you've probably said a bit too much. You don't tell him everything. You don't tell him what this guy looks like, you don't tell him about the more… explicit dreams. You don't tell him about how whenever you wake up it feels like part of you has just been ripped away.
You keep it as… normal as this situation could possibly be.
Spiderman stays quiet for a moment. You're considering just getting up and leaving, never coming back, that whole ordeal. But something in you begs to stay and hear him out. Just for a little. Just to see what he thinks.
Then he speaks, just like normal. "And you're saying this guy is in like, 85% of your dreams?"
You nod, simple. "Yeah, I, uh… I did the maths. It's like 84.567% but rounding, you know." You stutter, blabbering on again. Fuck.
"Do you know his name?"
"No."
"You don't refer to him in the dreams?"
You shrug, finally looking at Spiderman. "Not really. If I do it's with some cringy petname or something. Like baby or sweetheart. Something sickly sweet, you know."
Spiderman hums, nodding slightly. He stops perching, instead sits down properly, not closer to you, exactly the same distance, but there's something different about it. Like he's less on watch and more interested in this conversation now. Then softly, he turns to you again, and you wish now more than ever that you could see what he looked like under the mask. "Do you know what he looks like?"
You blink, head whipping up from his hands to his face, so fast you would nearly have given yourself whiplash. "What?"
"Well sometimes people in dreams are just like… faceless blobs. Is he a faceless blob?"
Swallowing thickly, you turn away, gaze darting across the New York skyline, following as lights from different apartments turned on and off, the car lights driving down the streets. Anything but looking at him. "No. He's not a faceless blob. I— I know what he looks like."
"And?"
"Brown hair, brown eyes. Nice smile but I'm probably bias." You laugh your way through describing this mystery man, acting as if you thought it was so stupid as well, and that it was all bullshit.
Spiderman goes quiet. Just nods along.
Then you hear police sirens and you're both up and following the noise. The cars are on a street a block or two down and are heading towards a bank a mile or so out from your house. Spiderman is already moving so you follow, quickly and swiftly, just like you trained.
You shouldn't, but you're thankful for the distraction. Part of you regrets telling him anything.
SEPTEMBER, 2024
Peter didn't realise that you would be here. In fact, you were the last person he expected to be here. Sure, MJ and Ned, they were supposed to be here, it was an MIT building that the landlord rented out to students for a cheaper rate and without ever knowing Peter Parker, they had gotten into MIT with flying colours. But you?
You'd never showed interest in going to MIT. Did you know someone going to MIT? Who were they? Why had you even moved to New York? He supposed your dad still got ill, you still came here to live with your mother. Had you still been involved in everything with Thanos? Had you still known Tony?
Peter still had all his memories, the ones with you in them, the ones where you noticed him, where you liked him hell— even loved him. You didn't have those memories.
Peter didn't know if he was willing to relearn you. Not with the memory everything before.
Because there you were, in that gorgeous black dress, that fit you perfectly, that made his heart soar. You'd put make up on, a rare but brilliant occasion, with his favourite coloured eyeshadow, the specific shade that made your eyes pop, even in the darkness of the apartment. And— were you looking at him?
You're talking to MJ and Ned. You shook their hands, smiled and laughed at something Ned said, and Peter can only think of the first time he introduced you to the two of them. Then there's a glance, to your left, directly in his direction.
It happens as quick as it stops. Peter doesn't know what to do with himself.
When you finish the conversation with MJ and Ned, Peter watches you head straight towards the alcohol. Since when did you..? You never drank before. You refused, never went near even a drop of the stuff. Peter watched you b-line for the table, pour yourself a nice big glass of whatever you've chosen, take one more glance towards him before taking a big gulp. Peter can't figure out what the hell is going on. There has to be a reason you keep looking at him, he can't just be going crazy.
Now, Peter needs a drink. He's not stupid. He waits until you leave the table before heading over to it. He doesn't even know if he can ever work up the courage to talk to you again, especially this early on.
Courage. And what have you both just given yourself? Liquid courage.
It doesn't take long for the alcohol to kick in. An hour, maybe two. You've had a couple drinks by now, someone you've only just met dared you into a shot, and now you're sipping a lovely glass of wine. Not only have you had a lot, but you've been mixing, too. Bad idea.
Peter, on the other hand, isn't as bad. He's had a bit, he's slurring his words, attempting to talk to someone he didn't know previously, avoiding you, MJ and Ned like the plague. He's still not well-minded though. He's still glancing at you every time you walk into the kitchen and back out again, and he's definitely still noticing every time you stare at him. Spidey senses, or whatever. That's what he tries to tell himself it is, but Peter thought both then and now, that even if he had never been bitten, he would have found you either way.
Then suddenly, even though he's been avoiding you so much it's been killing him, you pop up behind him, and Peter realises just how drunk you really are.
"You're cute." You say, the first half of the sentence so slurred that Peter has to take a second to figure out what you said. Cute, yeah, he's fucked.
Peter's lips part, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at you. "Uh—" Fuck, what does he even say?
You hiccup, leaning against the doorframe like if you didn't have something to hold, you would be on the floor instead. "M'sorry, I don't even know you, y'just, cute. Had to say something."
"Thanks." Because, what else is he even supposed to say. If he even tries to string a sentence together, it'll come out all jumbled and while you certainly don't care about that, he doesn't want to risk spilling anything at the moment. Perhaps never.
"I've actua'y been avoidin' you al'night."
What?
"Didn' wanna say somethin' I shouldn't've." You shrug, smiling up at him with big eyes and Peter can almost feel his insides melt. It's the exact same look you used to give him when you'd convince him to do something he knew was a bad idea. Fuck. "But, then I stop'd caring'. Dunno why."
"Maybe the alcohol?" Peter squeaks.
Then you're gasping, the gleeful glint in your eyes only getting brighter as in your drunken haze, remember the existence of alcohol, even though it's running through your system like crazy. "Oh m'god-! Yes! Alcohol! Love it s'much. Need some more…"
Peter can't help himself then. He's so used to lending you a helping hand, comforting you when you need it, being by your side and doing anything for you that the second you mention more alcohol, he protectiveness kicks in. He grabs your hand as you attempt to run off towards the kitchen and you pause in your hastiness.
"Woah, maybe we should get you some water instead, hey?" Peter says, keeping his voice soft and trying to push through the less alcohol in his own system in order to help you.
You look up at him with those big eyes again and sigh dreamily. "Y'cute and carin'? Are y'single? There's no way you're single, right, cutie? Someone has to have… you know, ugh. I can never find the right guy."
Peter rubs a palm against your shoulder, doing his best to ignore your question. Of course he's single, he would never be able to be with anybody else. "Come on, towards the kitchen."
Carefully, Peter guides you towards the kitchen, grabbing an empty cup from the side and heading towards the tap. He makes sure it's cold but not too cold and hands it to you. He tries not to take notice of the way you can't stop staring at him. How he managed to get into this situation, he doesn't know, but all he knows now is that he can't just leave you, drunk out of your mind, with no way home.
It's late into the party now. A couple people have gone home but it doesn't look like it's going to quieten down any time soon. Peter takes a glance at the clock and is shocked by the time, any other day and he'd be perched on a rooftop beside you — without you even knowing it was him.
Still, you're here. Somehow, still with him. It was a joke you always used to have. You said it from the beginning of your relationship and it was the last thing you ever said to him, knowingly. We find each other in every universe. No matter what. And you were right.
Once you'd finished the water, you chucked the cup into the bin next to the sink and turned back around to Peter, a pout on your face that was going to be the death of him. You're leaning against the counter, but this time not out of drunkenness but instead with how tired you are. The hyper-ness of the alcohol has been very quickly replaced by sleepiness.
"I'm gonna go t'sleep." You murmur, leaning further towards Peter, your eyes fluttering shut.
Peter stops you, holding you up by the shoulders. "Can't sleep here, I'm sorry. Do you have a way to get home, sweetheart?"
You shake your head, the pout reappearing at both remembering how your friend abandoned you and how Peter didn't let you go to sleep. "M'friend was gonna drop me off, but she's gone home with a guy, I don't know."
"Okay, where do you live? I'm more than happy to walk you home."
"Upper Manhattan." You grumble, beginning to lean into Peter, rather than the counter and not realising that that was much too far away to walk and Peter couldn't afford you an Uber. He also didn't trust you on the other end of a taxi. "But, s'okay, right? Can just sleep at yours. Don't you live in th's buildin' cutie?"
Peter furrowed his eyebrows at you, genuinely concerned. "You don't know me."
You shrug, smiling up at him, trying to stay awake. "I dunno, feel safe around you. Feels like I've known y'longer than I actually have. And if you try anything, I'm a fantastic archer."
Yeah, he knows, Peter smiles at that. You were fantastic at everything but you always found most pride in the archery thing. Always looked up to people like Hawkeye, always helped as many people as possible with a skill so mundane, in your eyes. In Peter's eyes, it was the least mundane thing ever. He thought you were so cool, and he was so proud of you. Even if you had no idea anymore.
"Okay, sweetheart, let's go." He says, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone as he guides you towards the door. He only lives downstairs, so it doesn't take very long until you're standing in his apartment. You've never been in here before, it's weird. Though Peter always imagined that you had been. That you'd been here countless times, that he'd cooked you dinner, that you had your own drawer of clothes and your toiletries were in the bathroom.
Peter heads towards his drawer, grabbing some sweatpants and a spare shirt, a stupid nerdy one that has some dumb physics joke on it. When he reaches you again, he finds you looking at a photo on the mantle of a canal in Venice, it's bland, it's boring, but anything else would have to have had you in it. He only had one of them, and it wasn't going to leave that in his apartment.
"Here, go into the bathroom and change, there's a spare toothbrush in there. I, uh, don't have any make up wipes or cotton pads, I'm sorry." Peter stammers, letting you take the clothes he folded just to give to you.
You smile, still drunk, still tired, but something more real settled behind your eyes. "Thanks, this is more than enough."
Peter watches you stumble off to bathroom, unable to take his eyes off you. Even with everything that went wrong, you were still here with him. Different, and you didn't really know him, but you were in his apartment and you felt safe around him, even if you didn't know why, and Peter felt something settle in him. You'd be here. He'd be here. Always.
He drags himself to the bedroom, grabbing his favourite pillow (leave one for you) and the blanket he left draped at the edge of the bed, and headed back towards the sofa. By the time he had set everything up, you had come back out of the bathroom, make up a little cleaner with simply water, and in his clothes.
In his clothes.
Peter almost burst into tears in that exact moment. In another universe, you would be his. You would be wearing his clothes because you liked the smell, not because you were drunk and had nowhere else to stay. You'd be in his apartment because you would practically live there, not because you bumped into Peter at a party.
It dawns on Peter just now weird this situation actually is.
His heart aches, but he puts on a smile, and nods in your direction. "Bedroom's just through there. I'll be out here, if you need anything."
"Thanks." You mumble, eyes all cute and droopy. "See ya in th'morning."
And just like that, you're gone, off to sleep in his bed, without him.
When you wake, it's to a headache, and an apartment that isn't your own. It's to the sunlight streaming in through the window and bedsheets that smell like home, even though they aren't yours. It's that familiarity, like in your dreams, and suddenly you're sat up, looking around the room you find yourself in.
It's somewhat decorated, the walls are a simple cream but there's the odd poster, a corkboard with post it notes scattered on it, and the flooring is a dark wood with a simple rug half underneath the bed.
Then you start remembering everything.
It comes back in waves, it always does. First seeing him when you first arrive, introducing yourself to the host, MJ? You think. It's still blurry. Then seeing him throughout the night, watching him watching you. Why was he watching you so much?
And then… oh fuck. You've actually gone and fucked it now, for definite. Is this his fucking apartment?
Oh my god, did you sleep with him?
No, because where is he? You woke up in the middle of the bed, so he couldn't have slept in here with you. And you still had clothes on, not yours, true, but not the type you put on after sex. Proper clothes.
So where is he? You drag yourself out of bed, feet dangling over the edge of the bed while they adjust to the cold flooring. It's a particularly cold September.
As you swing the bedroom door open, a great weight is lifted off your shoulders as you spot the pillow and blanket made up on the sofa. The man is still nowhere to be seen, which scares you a little bit, but then you spot the piece of paper left on the kitchen counter.
His handwriting is messy, cute, all of that. Its a short message, scrawled onto an open page in the notebook he's left out and reads the following.
Morning, hope you're okay. Make yourself at home, there's painkillers in the bathroom if you need them and help yourself to some breakfast. It was nice meeting you last night, I would have stayed to meet you properly this morning but work calls. — "Cutie" as you called me.
You reckon you're actually going to end it. I mean, obviously you're not but you might as well. You've embarrassed yourself in front of this guy who you don't even know, but you've been dreaming about for the past year. Now you're sober and he's not even in the apartment.
It would be easy to leave, right now, it would. You could just get up, go, and it would mean nothing. You'd never have to see him again and you could forget all of this.
But then you catch it by the door. A worn leather wallet, on the counter by the door, left in a bowl. Jackpot.
Because even after last night, you didn't know his name. You didn't know who he was, but now you could find out.
You hesitantly step over to the door, picking up the wallet and letting it sit in your hand for a bit before opening it. This is a big moment, this isn't just a guy you met last night, this is a guy you've actually, non-metaphorically been dreaming about for the past year.
Slowly, you open the wallet. The first thing you see is his ID, perfect. Slipping it out of the folder, you scan through the information.
Peter Benjamin Parker. Born August 10th, 2001, Queens, New York. Aged 18.
After all this time, you had his name. Peter, of course. It made sense. He looked like a Peter.
But there was more. Something you had noticed immediately, too impatient to find out his name. All wallets had that little clear folder, made for a little photo. Usually loved ones, if you were a parent, it had a kid in it, or grand-kids, or just partners.
In that little folder, was a photo of Peter, next to you.
Not just a photo of you, a photo booth photo, with your lips pressed against his cheek, a grin on his face. It must have been a while ago, you only look 16, he looks a similar age too. And the worst thing wasn't even the fact that you were in this photo.
The worst thing was that you had this memory too.
You had dreamt about it. Last May, it must have been around the. He'd taken you on a date to the movies, and they'd just put in a new photo booth at the theatre and he insisted on getting a set with you, even though it was five dollars and he didn't have a job yet.
Oh, you need to sit down. You reach for the nearest chair, a single wooden, uncomfortable chair by the table, and you practically collapse into it. You can't stop looking at the photo, why does he have it? Why do you remember it? Have your dreams been real this whole time?
Then there's a jangling of keys on the other side of the door, and it swings open. There he is, in a jumper with his shirt collar hooked over the wool, backpack on one shoulder, cheeks heated and eyes stressed.
"Hey I forgot my wallet—" He cuts himself off when he sees you with his wallet. You stand from your seat.
"You're Peter Parker?"
He nods. "Yeah. Can I have- my wallet back?"
"Too late." You shake your head, turning it around. "Explain this photo to me, now."
Peter chuckles nervously, holding his hands out as be shuts the door completely. "Uhh, it's a photo?"
You blink, unfazed. "Why do you have a photo of me in your wallet?"
"Its complicated"
"I've got nowhere to be." You shrug. Peter doesn't quite know how to deal with this. You've never actually been angry at him before. You've been disappointed before, you've been worried that has manifested itself as angry, but never properly angry.
So Peter nods curtly, removes his backpack and sits it by the other chair. He drags it out and takes a seat, urging you to do the same.
You sit, sliding the photo out of the folder and chucking the wallet back to him. He's not getting that photo back unless he's got a completely valid reason.
"Okay, just under a year ago I made the biggest mistake of my life got into a lot of trouble. At first, everyone I loved was in danger and then the whole world was. So, a friend of mine, a sort of… sorcerer, had to bail me out, majorly. I owe him my life and he doesn't even know." Peter explained, eyes dashing between your gaze and where he hands were clasped on the table. "It was difficult, but he had to make everyone forget who I was. Everyone forgot the name Peter Parker."
You furrow your eyebrows at him, frowning. "Everyone?"
He nods. "Everyone. It was the only way I could save everything. So everyone forgot me."
"That sounds… lonely."
"It has been… well, there is someone but, again, complicated." Peter shrugs, and you have no idea who he is referencing, but for some reason, it makes your stomach twinge with jealousy. "Anyway, before he made the spell, I asked him one thing. Just one thing."
Your features have softened, no longer full of anger but instead just warmth. You couldn't be angry at him. "What was it?"
Peter sighed, looking down at his hands. "I asked him to keep this one photo, the one I kept in my wallet. That it would be enough and would get me by without anyone else. The photo of my and… my girlfriend."
"Your…"
"Girlfriend." Peter nods, finally looking up at you. "You were my girlfriend. For 3 years. I'm so sorry. I swear, I had no idea you would be at that party, I wasn't even planning on talking to you, and then you spoke to me and couldn't get home and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I didn't help you."
"Peter." You speak, voice soft as you struggle to find the words. You don't know what a normal person would even say in this situation. There's nothing that makes enough sense, nothing that could help your brain process all of this. And you still haven't taken those painkillers. "You said there were painkillers in the bathroom?"
He furrows his eyebrows, but then nods. "Yeah, cabinet above the sink, help yourself."
"Thank you."
Swiftly, you get up and head to the bathroom, making it clear you don't want Peter to follow. There's nothing you can even conjure up that would even make a bit of sense. Hey, you know me really well but I don't remember much of that, only a couple moments, but you're still cute and we clearly get along so I'm willing for this to be a thing again?
What kind of nutter were you. Not only did you stand in the bathroom for ages while taking the painkillers, you also stood above the sink, splashing your face with water. You thought that maybe this was some form of dream, but it wasn't. It actually wasn't. This was real.
So, where to start? All of the dreams you've been having over the past year have been real. You haven't made them up, and you in another universe experienced them for real. But that version of you is you, and now you've met the guy that you apparently forgot. How much of your relationship had you forgotten? Were they just the main moments? Were they the ones you held dearest to your heart or were they just random?
Peter's explanation hadn't exactly been direct. He had told you what you needed to know in order for him to explain the photo but you could tell it hadn't really been everything. Because now you had two following questions, worse than any prior questions:
Why did he need everyone to forgot him?
How was he friends with a sorcerer?
And you need an explanation for these. The only sorcerer that people really knew about was Dr Strange, but then how would this random dude know Strange? You'd met him a couple years ago during a run in with a couple bank robbers, but he'd handled that. The only way you would be able to know Strange well enough for him to bail you out like that was if you were a superhero.
You sighed, took one last look in the mirror and left the bathroom, praying that the painkillers would kick in sooner than it said on the box. When you stepped out of the bathroom, you immediately spot Peter with his forehead against the wood of the table. He looked a little stupid but you can tell he's attempting to regulate his breathing. Then quietly, you hear him murmur, over and over under his breath,
"Stupid, stupid stupid. Just tell her. She's gonna find out either way. I mean, she's a genius, she'll find out eventually. And if you don't tell her now, she's gonna be so mad when you do."
You scoff a little under your breath, then say, louder, "Peter?"
He jumps up, sighing as he sees you. "Christ, scared me."
"Sorry." You murmur, sitting back down in your seat and fiddling with your hands in your lap. "What were you mumbling to yourself there, huh?"
Peter shakes his head, an internal debate over whether he should tell you. He must decide quicker than you had expected because then his lips are parting and he attempting to form the correct sentence. The correct way to say whatever he's planning on saying. Jeez, how life changing could this be. "There's more. That I should tell you, about… well, us, I guess. Well, me."
You nod, curt, unsure. "Go on."
"I know about your dreams. About me." He says, and then realises that he must sound like an absolute creep, so he stammers, trips over his words a bit before finding the correct foot again. "I mean, you've told me about them, but you didn't even realise it—"
Of course. There was only one way he would have been told about your dreams, if you had told him yourself. That's why it felt like you knew him better than you actually did. It's why he didn't want to take the mask off, he was the one that implemented that rule, not you. That was why he'd asked if you knew what he looked like, or his name. It's how he knew Strange. Everything had come together, so easily, so perfectly. How you hadn't realised in the first place, you didn't know.
"Are you Spiderman? "
Peter looks up at you, that warm, hopeful look settled into the brown of his eyes, and he nods, soft and sweet. "You were always a genius."
You blink at him, leaning forward in your seat because of course, everything makes sense now. "So that's how you know Strange? And that's why it felt like I knew Spiderman better than I should, because I did."
"Yeah."
"I mean, what are the chances the one person I go to tell about my dreams, just so happens to be the exact guy I'm dreaming about." You laugh to yourself, sitting back in your chair, head in your hands, partly embarrassed, partly unable to process this information.
"Yeah." Peter chuckles a little this time.
"So."
Peter pauses for a moment, just looking at you, who doesn't seem to be thinking. You'd just stopped talking, sat with everything for a minute. Peter cleared his throat. "So?"
You shrug, lips parted and brows furrowed hesitantly. "I don't know… where we go from here."
"That's fair."
Slowly, you lean forward in your seat, looking towards Peter, then away, then back at him; like you can't decide what to say, what to do. Like everything is still so jumbled but you don't seem to know how to even start untangling it. Peter understands. It's a lot of information to take in. Even if you just wanted to leave forever and never see him okay, he would understand.
And that was what you had realised. From your dreams, from the way he acted as Spiderman, from even just your conversation with him now. Peter cared. Deeply. Unlike anyone you'd ever met before. Even when he was still in love with you (—okay, you're assuming here, but to him, everything still happened, so), he cared for you. He would do whatever was comfortable with you, no matter what. He'd disregard his own feelings completely if it meant you were okay.
Which means something, especially considering everything he's gone through.
"If you want, I'll give you my number, and if you are ever able to properly process this and want… something out of it, friends, more, I don't know, I don't mind, you text me." He offers, showing his maturity, showing his politeness, showing how much he cares. "You don't have to, it's just a suggestion."
You look up at him, and for the first time, your eyes are soft. You're looking at him like you look at him in your dreams, like how you look at Spiderman. "No."
Peter nods. "Whatever makes you—"
"Shut up." He purses his lips, holds in a laugh, which makes you laugh as well, even if you're trying to hide it too. You've got a finger held up to him, supporting your statement, but you're still giggling as you speak. "Shut up. I… am willing to get to know you again."
You can see the way Peter's eyes light up just from pure hope at your words, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "Okay."
Lowering your finger, you swallow thickly, still not completely sure if you're making the right decision here but still going through with it. "You're cute, I didn't lie to you last night. And… clearly we get along. I don't have very many people, not that I'm close with. And you seem funny, and I'd like to get to know you."
"Thank you." Peter breathes. "Take as much time as you need, we're going your pace, whatever makes you most comfortable, okay? And… I'll try not to be weird about knowing everything about you already. Just habit. Things I couldn't really forget—"
"Peter." You breathe, stopping him mid-sentence, reaching a hand over to rest against his which gives him no choice but to look you in the eyes. "It's okay."
He nods, sheepish, it being obvious there's still something on his mind. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks. And uh… it's really nice hearing you say my name like that again."
You smile, then, soft and warm.
Because maybe he knows more about you than you do of him, but that doesn't matter. You can see the care. You can see the potential. You have some memories of what the two of you used to be like and you can relearn him. You're willing to relearn him, after all this time. Even if it's a rocky start, even if there are problems, or you get frustrated with the knowledge differences.
You're willing to relearn him. Even with no memory of before.
a/n: thanks for all the love! wish I could write more but uni is a bitch its assessment week, but summer holidays soon so fingers crossed? we'll find out, thanks for the support love you all!! <3
warnings → mentions of alcohol, family issues, angst if you squint, fluff :p
summary → peter notices something’s been off with y/n all night, and after a few drinks, she finally lets him see why.
click here 🕸️๋࣭ ⭑ for the previous chapter!
✩₊˚.⋆ Chapter sixteen ⋆⁺₊✧
Y/n stood behind the counter, adjusting a stack of books that didn’t really need adjusting. She lined the edges up carefully, pressing them into place before stepping back-then immediately fixing them again.
“Relax” Lauren said from beside her, barely glancing up from her phone. “It’s a book signing, not your wedding day.”
“I am relaxed” Y/n muttered, nudging the top book into perfect alignment.
Lauren finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve fixed that same stack three times.”
Y/n paused, then crossed her arms loosely. “…I like symmetry.”
Lauren let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
The store buzzed quietly around them. Chairs had been arranged near the front windows for the signing, soft music drifting through the speakers overhead while Karen moved around making last-minute adjustments. The smell of coffee and paper filled the air, warm and familiar.
Y/n usually loved nights like this.
But tonight her thoughts felt tangled and restless, like she couldn’t settle into herself properly.
The bell above the door chimed.
Her head lifted automatically.
And just like that, something inside her softened.
Peter stepped into the store with cold air curling in behind him. His hoodie hung loose over his frame, sleeves pushed up slightly past his wrists. His curls looked windblown and messy, cheeks pink from outside.
His eyes found her immediately.
They always did.
his expression turning into something soft and warm as he smiled.
“Hey” he said as he walked over.
Y/n smiled a little. “Hi.”
Peter leaned casually against the counter beside her, glancing around the shop before looking back at her.
“Where do you want me?”
She shook her head lightly, fingers tracing the edge of the counter absentmindedly. “You don’t have to do anything..Just hang around if you’re not busy.”
There was something about the way she said it that made his expression shift slightly.
she wasn’t asking for help when she told him to come by.
She just wanted him there.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not busy.”
His hand moved without thinking, brushing lightly against hers where it rested against the counter. Not fully holding it. Just enough to feel her there.
Y/n glanced down at the touch before looking back up at him.
The smile she gave him this time was softer.
But something about it still didn’t sit right with him.
Peter knew her too well not to notice.
Something was bothering her.
He could feel it almost immediately.
But he didn’t say anything yet.
✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧
The event began not long after.
people gathered in a loose semi-circle around the author as she spoke. Her voice carried easily through the store, steady and practiced.
Y/n stayed near the side of the store, tucked beside one of the bookshelves with her arms folded loosely across her chest. She watched and listened, but not fully there.
Her thoughts drifted in and out, catching on random things before slipping away again.
Peter had been in the back room with Karen at first, helping her with something technical on the computer. Once it was sorted, he lingered for a second before glancing out towards the shelves.
And like always, his attention found her immediately and he moved quietly through the crowd until he was standing just behind her.
he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, warm and familiar, pulling her back against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She softened instantly.
The tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding slipped away, her head tipping back slightly until it brushed his shoulder.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
“Hi” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
“Hi” she breathed back.
She wasn’t tense, She wasn’t pulling away but something about her felt… quieter than usual. Like she was there, but not all the way.
His grip tightened just slightly.
“You okay?” he whispered.
She nodded almost immediately. “Yeah just.. tired.”
He didn’t fully believe that.
But he also knew better than to push her before she was ready.
So instead, he pressed a soft kiss into her hair and stayed there holding her while the author continued speaking.
✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧
By the time the book signing ended, the shop felt lighter again as people filtered out slowly, once it was officially closing time karen clapped her hands once. “Alright, that went well. No one knocked anything over, no one cried, and we made sales.”
Lauren raised a hand. “I almost cried.”
“We’re not counting you laur” Karen said.
Y/n laughed quietly, leaning against the counter next to Peter.
Karen glanced between them. “We’re going to the bar across the street, my treat, you guys deserve it”
Lauren gasped. “I love you.”
“I know” Karen said, already grabbing her coat. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
The bar was warm, dim, a little loud-but not overwhelming. they all squeezed into a booth, their drinks arriving faster than expected.
Peter stayed beside Y/n the entire time.
Close enough that his knee rested against hers underneath the table.
Y/n didn’t plan on drinking much.
But one drink turned into two… then another..then another…and by the time they were leaving, her head felt light, her steps a little uneven.
Peter’s hand immediately settled against her waist to steady her. “Okay” he murmured as they stepped out into the cooler air. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m fine” she insisted, immediately leaning into him.
“Mhm m’sure you are” he hummed.
The walk back wasn’t long.
the second they reached their building, Peter bent slightly and scooped her into his arms without hesitation.
Y/n immediately melted against him with a soft sound, arms loosely wrapping around his neck while her head dropped against his shoulder.
“Remember last time you carried me up these stairs?” she mumbled sleepily.
Peter smiled to himself as he climbed. “Yeah”
“I thought you were sooo hot for that.”
He laughed quietly under his breath.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah” she said seriously, lifting her head slightly to look at him. “I think you’re very hot actually. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”
Peter’s cheeks warmed immediately.
“Thank you” he said, trying and failing to sound normal.
He smiled despite himself, adjusting his grip on her as he reached her apartment door.
He unlocked it with her keys and nudged the door shut behind them once they were inside.
Peter carefully set her back on her feet, though he kept a hand on her waist when she immediately swayed a little.
“Okay” he said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Okay” she echoed.
He guided her towards the bed, helping her sit.
Careful, gentle.
He moved slowly, helping her out of her clothes, making sure she didn’t trip over herself in the process.
She watched him quietly for a second before speaking, her voice softer this time. “…you know my mom called today.”
Peter stilled almost immediately.
Something in his expression shifted, like he already knew where this conversation was heading. He knew how her parents were. Knew how easily they could make her feel small without even trying.
“…yeah?” he said gently.
“Yeah..she kept telling me to come back home” she murmured, her voice quieter now, the buzz softening into something else. “saying what am I doing all alone in New York?”
His chest tightened.
“I told her I’m not alone” she went on, shaking her head faintly. “And even if I was… what difference would it make going back? I’d still be alone there.”
Her eyes lifted to his.
“You know?”
Peter stepped closer without thinking, his hand coming up to cup her face, thumb brushing lightly along her cheek.
“Yeah, baby” he said softly. “I know.”
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He hated that they could still do this to her. Hated that one phone call was enough to leave her carrying this heaviness around all day.
“I’m so happy you and I met, Peter” she whispered.
Something in his chest pulled tight in the best way.
“Me too” he murmured.
He stood for a second after that, pulling his shirt over his head, then his pants, tossing them aside before climbing into bed.
“C’mere.”
She didn’t hesitate.
She crawled toward him, settling into his arms like it was instinct, her head tucking under his chin, her body fitting against his like it had always been meant to.
His arms wrapped around her immediately.
His fingers slid into her hair, moving slowly, gently, grounding.
“I’m sorry” he said quietly after a moment. “For how they treated you.”
She shifted a little closer, her hand curling loosely against his chest.
“They’re missing out” he continued softly, his voice low in the quiet room as his hand moved through her hair again, careful, soothing.
“They don’t get to see how much light you bring into a room just by being in it, or how special and kind your heart is”
He let out a small breath.
“and that’s their biggest loss.”
He pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
“You’re not alone” he whispered, pressing another kiss into her hair. “Not here, not with me.”
He kept talking quietly after that even when he wasn’t sure she was still awake.
Just soft little things.
Mindless things.
Anything to fill the silence for her.
But eventually he glanced down and realized she’d fallen asleep halfway through it.
Her face relaxed completely against his chest.
Peter smiled to himself, something soft settling in his chest. Carefully, he brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering for just a second.
Then he leaned down and pressed a quiet kiss to her head, holding her a little closer after.
author’s note: omg I have the cutest idea for the next chapter, I haven’t written it yet so I’ll have to write and see if I’m sticking with the idea or not :p but it’s very happy dw…
Peter Parker had always been good at noticing details-tiny things most people missed, like the faint crack in a locker hinge or the way a spider web shimmered differently depending on the angle of the light. But when it came to you, noticing things wasn’t a skill. It was instinct. It was automatic, like breathing.
He couldn’t remember exactly when it started. Maybe it was sophomore year, when you walked into class with your hair curled for the first time, soft loops catching the fluorescent light and bouncing gently when you laughed. Or maybe it had been earlier-freshman year, when you sat two rows ahead of him and turned around to lend someone a pencil, smiling so easily, like kindness cost you nothing at all.
Peter told himself it wasn’t a big deal. People had crushes. It was normal. Except his crush didn’t fade, didn’t quiet down or blur at the edges. It sharpened over time, growing more specific, more detailed, until it felt like he carried a private gallery of you in his head.
He noticed everything.
The way you sometimes straightened your hair on Mondays, sleek and glossy, tucking it behind your ear as you focused on your notes. The way, on other days, it fell naturally around your shoulders, slightly messy like you hadn’t tried too hard-but he knew you had, because you always looked just a little too put together for it to be accidental.
He noticed your makeup too-not in a weird way, he swore to himself, just… observant. Like when you wore a soft pink gloss instead of your usual clear one, or when there was a faint shimmer on your eyelids that caught when you blinked. Once, you showed up with a slightly darker eyeliner, and Peter spent the entire day trying to figure out what was different before realizing it. It drove him insane-in the best, worst way.
“Dude,” Ned had whispered once, following Peter’s line of sight as you laughed with your friends across the cafeteria. “You are down astronomically bad.”
“I’m not-” Peter had started, then stopped, because you’d pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled again, and suddenly he forgot what he was saying.
Ned snorted. “You literally noticed when she switched coffee cups last week.”
Peter flushed. “It was a different color-”
“It was beige.”
“It was a different beige.”
Ned just shook his head, grinning. “You’re a simp.”
And maybe he was. Because he noticed the way you held your coffee with both hands when it was cold outside, fingers wrapped around the cup like you were trying to keep the warmth from escaping. He noticed how you sometimes paused before taking a sip, tilting it slightly to take a picture-just a quick one, nothing dramatic-if the foam art was cute or the lighting hit just right.
He noticed your outfits too. Not in a shallow way-at least, he hoped not-but because they always felt like an extension of you. Soft sweaters in the fall, sleeves just a little too long so you could tug them over your hands. Light, flowy tops in the spring that moved when you walked. Once, you wore a jacket that made you look like you belonged in a movie, and Peter spent the entire day wondering what kind of movie it would be.
The problem was… he’d never talked to you.
Not really. Not beyond a passing “sorry” in the hallway or a mumbled “thanks” when you handed him a worksheet once. Every time he thought about saying something more, his brain short-circuited. Words got tangled, confidence vanished, and suddenly he was hyper-aware of everything-his hands, his voice, the fact that he might say something stupid.
So he stayed quiet. Watched from a distance. Memorized.
Until one afternoon, everything changed.
It wasn’t dramatic. There were no slow-motion moments or cinematic music swelling in the background. It was just the hallway after school, crowded and noisy, lockers slamming, people talking over each other. Peter was distracted, trying to shove his notebook into his already overstuffed backpack, when he turned too quickly-
-and walked straight into you.
“Whoa-!”
You stumbled slightly, your coffee tilting dangerously in your hand. Peter’s reflexes kicked in before his brain did, and he reached out, steadying the cup before it could spill.
“I’m so sorry!” he blurted immediately, stepping back like he’d just touched something fragile. “I didn’t-I mean, I wasn’t looking-are you okay?”
You blinked at him, surprised, then smiled.
And Peter’s brain completely, utterly stopped working.
“It’s okay,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “You actually saved my coffee, so… thank you.”
“Oh-yeah-no problem-I mean, it’s just-coffee-so-” He winced internally. Smooth. So smooth.
But you laughed. Not in a mean way-just a small, genuine laugh that made his chest feel weirdly light.
“I’m glad,” you said, glancing down at the cup before looking back at him. “It was really cute. I was about to take a picture of it.”
Of course you were. Of course you were, and of course he noticed.
“It is cute,” he said, a little more steady this time, nodding toward the foam art. “It looks like… a heart? Kind of?”
Your eyes lit up slightly. “Yeah! That’s what I thought too.”
There was a pause-not awkward, just… open. Like something could happen in it, if he let it.
Peter swallowed, heart pounding in his ears. Ned’s voice echoed faintly in his head-You’re a simp-and for once, he didn’t try to argue with it.
“Um,” he started, then pushed through before he could stop himself. “I was actually-there’s a movie playing this weekend, at the theater on 5th, and I-”
He almost backed out. Almost laughed it off, pretended he hadn’t meant it. But then you tilted your head slightly, listening, waiting, and suddenly he couldn’t not say it.
“-I was wondering if you’d maybe want to go? With me. As, like… a date.”
The word hung there, fragile but real.
For a second, he thought he’d messed everything up. That he’d rushed it, that it was too much, too sudden-
But then you smiled again. Not the polite kind. Not the quick, automatic one.
A real one.
“I’d like that,” you said.
And just like that, everything shifted.
Peter nodded, trying very hard not to look like he might pass out. “Cool. Cool, yeah. That’s-great. I’ll text you? Or-do you-have-”
You laughed softly and pulled out your phone. “Here,” you said, handing it to him.
His hands were slightly shaky as he took it, typing in his number, painfully aware of how surreal this felt. Like one of those moments he’d replay later just to make sure it actually happened.
When he handed it back, your fingers brushed his for just a second-barely anything-but it sent a spark up his arm anyway.
“I’ll text you,” you said.
“Yeah,” he replied, smiling a little helplessly. “Yeah, okay.”
And as you walked away, coffee still safe in your hands, Peter stood there for a moment, heart still racing, mind buzzing-not with distant observations this time, not with quiet, one-sided details-
summary → after y/n anxiously waits for peter on the roof, the night takes an unexpected turn.
click here 🕸️๋࣭ ⭑ for the previous chapter!
✩₊˚.⋆ Chapter fourteen ⋆⁺₊✧
Y/n sat cross-legged on the roof, her sketchbook open in her lap, pencil resting between her fingers but unmoving. The page had been blank for a while now.
Her eyes kept drifting up.
To the skyline.
To every flicker of movement between buildings.
To nothing.
The news she’d seen earlier kept replaying in her head, something about an explosion across the city. They hadn’t said much, just enough to make her chest tighten in that quiet, awful way she was starting to recognize.
Her fingers pressed a little harder into the edge of the page.
He should’ve been back by now.
She tried to tell herself she was overthinking it. That this was normal. That this was just what his life looked like.
But all she could think about was last time.
all the blood, the bruises, the way he could barely talk.
her stomach twisted.
A sudden movement in the distance made her head snap up.
A figure swinging between buildings.
Her breath caught.
“Peter-“
She was already on her feet before she realized it, her sketchbook slipping from her lap and hitting the ground with a soft thud as she stepped forward.
He landed a second later, a little heavier than usual.
And she didn’t even think.
She crossed the space between them quickly, throwing herself into his arms.
“Are you okay?” she rushed out. “Are you hurt?”
For a second, he just stood there.
Then he exhaled softly into her hair, his arms wrapping around her like it was automatic.
“I’m okay” he said, voice quieter than usual.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands already moving, tugging his mask up without waiting for permission.
It slipped off and fell somewhere behind them.
Her hands went straight to his face.
Turning it slightly, checking for bruises.
“Was it the same guys as last time?” she asked quickly, her voice tight. “I saw the news and I just-“
“Hey-“ he cut in gently, “Look at me.”
She did.
“I’m fine” he said softly. “Nothing happened to me, okay?”
She let out a shaky breath, but her hands didn’t leave his face.
“I was so worried” she said, quieter now.
“I know, I’m sorry”
There was a pause.
He swallowed, like he was debating something.
Then he said it anyway.
“…this-this is why I didn’t want us to be friends after you found out.”
Her brows pulled together immediately.
“What?”
“I don’t want you worrying like this” he said, a little more rushed now. “I don’t want you sitting up here thinking something happened to me or-or feeling like this every time I’m gone.”
She blinked at him.
Her hands slowly dropped from his face.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means this isn’t fair to you” he said. “You shouldn’t have to deal with-with all of this.”
“I didn’t ask you to decide that for me.” her voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to make him stop.
“I’m just saying-“
“No, you’re not just saying” she cut in, stepping back a little now. “You’re doing that thing where you act like you know what’s best for me without actually asking me.”
“I’m trying to protect you” he said, frustration slipping in.
“From what?” she shot back. “Caring about you?”
“Y/n-“
She shook her head, already stepping back a little, not letting him finish.
“If you don’t want to be friends, then just say that” she said, her voice tighter now.
His expression shifted immediately. “That’s not-”
“Then stop pushing me away and pretending it’s for me” she cut in.
Her chest was rising faster now, but her voice didn’t get louder, just heavier.
“Telling me it’s better if we’re not friends because you’re trying to protect me?” she continued. “That’s not protecting me, Peter. That’s you deciding how I’m supposed to feel without even asking me.”
He went quiet.
“I get to choose that” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I get to decide if I want this-if I want you in my life, even if it’s messy, even if it’s scary.”
“I’m just trying to make this easier for you” he said quietly.
“Jesus, Peter, you’re not!” she said, the words rushing out. “When are you gonna understand that? You’re not making it easier-leaving me isn’t going to help, it would literally break my heart. It would hurt so much because I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.”
She went still,
Like she just realized what she’d said.
Her wide eyes flicked away immediately, like if she didn’t look at him it wouldn’t be real.
Her brain was already scrambling-take it back, fix it, pretend it didn’t happen, literally disappear if possible.
“Y/n… what did you just say?” he asked, softer this time.
She shook her head quickly.
“Nothing” she said, way too fast.
Peter didn’t move.
She let out a small, awkward breath, still not looking at him.
“I didn’t say anything, I just-I was talking, you know, just saying stuff” she added, waving a hand vaguely like that would somehow make it make sense. “You can ignore that, that wasn’t-it didn’t mean-“
She stopped herself before she made it worse.
Her shoulders tensed slightly.
“Just forget it.” she muttered.
She risked a glance back at him.
Big mistake.
He was still looking at her, with that look.
the look that made her want to die.
“Y/n” he said again.
She shook her head, taking a small step back this time.
“No, seriously, drop it Peter” she said quickly, a little more defensive now. “I didn’t mean to say it, it just came out, so can we just-“
He stepped forward.
Closing the space she’d just tried to create.
Her words caught in her throat.
“What are you doing?” she asked, quieter now.
“You said you love me” he said slowly.
Her stomach dropped.
“I didn’t-I mean, I did, but not like-“ she stopped, pressing her lips together. “Can you please just pretend I didn’t?”
“No.” he said simply.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
“Why not?” she asked, frustrated.
“because I don’t want to” he said.
That made her look up at him.
He stepped closer until there was barely any space left between them.
“Why?” she asked, her voice quieter now, a little breathless.
He let out a small, almost disbelieving breath.
“Why?” he repeated, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Are you serious?”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
Because he was right there.
Because she could feel his breath now.
“I’ve been in love with you since the second you walked into this building” he said, the words coming out low, almost rough. “I’m so in love with you it actually hurts sometimes. It hurts being this close to you and not doing anything about it.”
Her breath caught.
“It hurts not touching you” he continued, quieter now. “Not kissing you-Not telling you how much I feel for you-“
“Peter” she breathed.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Don’t say my name like that” he said, softer now, but it still came out strained. “Don’t make me do something I won’t be able to take back.”
Her eyes flicked between his.
He was already leaning closer.
She didn’t move away.
Not even a little.
“Tell me to stop” he whispered, his nose brushing against hers.
She stayed silent.
And that was it.
That was all it took.
Because Peter couldn’t hold himself back anymore.
He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers.
It felt like they could finally breathe. Like they had both been underwater for a really long time and were finally pulling in air again.
Y/n held his face between her hands as she moved her lips against his, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist as he deepened the kiss. She let one of her hands travel up to his hair, her fingers nestling themselves into his curls as she tugged gently, causing him to groan softly against her lips.
Peter felt ashamed at the fact that his suit was actively becoming tighter around his..lower area, he was completely overwhelmed by her. He was so starved for her, and getting a taste like this made something in him snap, every thought, every reason he had to hold back just… gone.
His grip on her waist tightened slightly, pulling her closer without even realizing it, like he needed to keep her right there as his mouth moved against hers, deeper this time, a little more urgent, like he couldn’t get enough.
Y/n kissed him back just as desperately, like she’d been holding it in just as long, her fingers tightening in his curls as she leaned into him, matching every bit of it.
It was overwhelming.
Too much and not enough all at once.
When she finally pulled back, it wasn’t because she wanted to, she just needed to breathe for a second.
“Peter-“ she whispered, breath uneven.
His hand came up, tilting her chin gently back towards him as he pressed softer kisses to her lips, slower this time, like he was grounding both of them again.
She let out a small breath against him, a smile making its way to her face.
That made him smile too, the soft dizzying smile that she loved so much.
He rested his forehead against hers, still close, still not letting go.
Their breaths were uneven, mingling in the small space between them.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Like they were both still catching up.
Peter let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek without thinking.
“…I love you” he murmured, the words quiet, almost like they’d slipped out before he could stop them.
Y/n’s smile widened instantly, soft and a little breathless.
“Yeah” she whispered, her forehead pressing a little closer to his. “I figured.”
He huffed out a small, disbelieving laugh at that.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes warm, steady.
“I love you too.”
author’s note: ;) yay they kissed and did more stuff right after this chapter ended that I won’t write but you can imagine what it was..anyway who’s cheering :D!!
i didn’t think i’d ever have to say this but do not upload my fics to character ai. in no way have i ever given permission for anyone to put my work into ai. it’s basic human decency not to steal other people’s work, but uploading it to another site under your name with no credits is insanely disrespectful.
do not steal my fics. i do not give permission for my fics to be uploaded anywhere, especially without credits or links back to my blog and especially not to ai sites. my ao3 is linked on my blog and from now on everything will be cross-posted there.
i think there is a huge maturity issue in the fanfiction community. below are some things i'd like to address.
minors in adult spaces you are not 'mature' for you age if you cannot follow a simple boundary. if you lie about your age, you are also endangering the adults you contact, it's not just about your safety. just because you yourself are comfortable or going through puberty and need to get off, it does not mean you should interact and cross a very explicit boundary. this also brings me to mdni blogs who pick and choose specific minors just because "they write good smut" or "they're almost 18 anyway". if you have a boundary, then enforce it. you are making the 'mdni' label seem like a joke. don't call yourself 'mdni' if you're not.
disregard on kink etiquette there is a difference between writing dark content and normalizing real, dangerous situations. do not interpret real life cases of abuse as inspiration for your fanfics. i remember some time ago, there was someone requesting about elvis presley and his history with a minor. also, if you are into unusual things and someone is against it, it's so easy to not interact. do not step over people's boundaries just because you feel like they have more morals than you. nobody cares what you're into as long as you keep it in your own space, it doesn't harm anyone, and you don't force it onto others.
talking behind people's backs i see no issue with shittalking as long as it's something you would say to the person upfront or have no intentions to interact with the person. to mock, belittle, and 'drag' someone behind their back is, honestly, strange. most of you are above middle school age, act like it. the issue is not with shittalking, but with pretending you are above it and do it.
whining about interactions it's okay if you're frustrated that a post isn't doing well, it's okay to post about it. readers these days on tumblr need to be reminded that to keep the fanfiction ecosystem alive, you should reblog. however! posting stuff like "omg, i'm gonna quit if i don't get 100+ likes" or "all of you better like rn" just makes you look odd. write for yourself or you always get burnt out.
sympathy baiting no, you cannot have bpd nor any cluster b disorder if you are under 18 unless you have an explicit diagnosis from a professional. no, you cannot post smut as a minor just because you were groomed and normalize sexual content. no, you cannot jump into adult spaces just because you're 'mature for your age'. no, adults are not the bad guys for setting boundaries. no, mental illness isn't a silly label to put in your bio for extra points.
trauma dumping without asking we are not your therapists, we are not licensed, and no one on here wants to play babysitter to someone at risk of self destructive behavior. if you need help, then seek it irl. if you cannot, then advocate for yourself. you will not get better by being a whiny bitch about it on tumblr. you will not get better if you complain about things in your control to stop.he person upfront or have no intentions to interact with the person. to mock, belittle, and 'drag' someone behind their back is, honestly, strange. most of you are above middle school age, act like it. the issue is not with shittalking, but with pretending you are above it and do it.
if you do not have the maturity for at least most of these, you should not have a mdni blog (if applicable) nor be on the internet at all.
Hiii, I really like your fics 😊 Can I request a fic based on the reader welcoming Joe home after this leg off tour. Just something soft and fluffy that makes him melt (like they have really long hug when he gets home). Oh, and maybe he brings back some presents form the places He’s been to because she is into history or something. Love you girlll ❤️
missed u
joe keery x reader
val speaks - i love youuuuu thanku for requesting !
word count: 1.8k
joe was coming home today.
the thought alone made your chest feel warm and nervous all at once.
he’d been gone for weeks, bouncing from city to city across south america for shows. you’d watched every clip you could find online, every blurry fan video, every photo that popped up on social media. sometimes you’d pause them just to look at him for a second longer.
but watching him through a screen wasn’t the same. not even close.
you wandered back into the living room, glancing around again. the place smelled faintly like the candle you’d lit earlier, something warm and soft, vanilla and cedar, and you’d even changed the sheets because you knew how much he loved coming home to clean ones.
your phone buzzed on the coffee table.
your heart jumped when you saw his name.
Landed. On my way home now.
you smiled immediately, typing back before you could overthink it.
good. hurry.
three little dots appeared.
Miss you.
your smile softened.
miss you more.
after that there was nothing to do but wait.
which, unfortunately, was the hardest part.
you tried sitting on the couch. that lasted about thirty seconds before you stood again. you paced the apartment, straightening things that didn’t need straightening. at one point you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror and adjusted your hair for the third time.
“relax” you muttered to yourself.
still, your ears stayed tuned toward the door. minutes stretched. then finally-
the sound of keys outside the apartment.
your stomach flipped instantly.
the lock turned, the door opened, and there he was.
joe looked tired in the way someone only does after long travel. hair a little messy from a plane ride, jacket half slipping off one shoulder, a duffel bag hanging from one hand and a suitcase rolling behind him. but the second his eyes landed on you standing there in the hallway, everything about his face changed.
his whole expression softened.
“hey” he breathed.
you didn’t even realise you were moving until you were already crossing the room.
“hi.”
he barely got the door closed before his bags dropped heavily to the floor beside him. the suitcase tipped slightly when he let go of it, forgotten immediately as he stepped forward and pulled you into him.
his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on hard enough.
your arms went around his neck at the same time.
and suddenly you were both just there, holding each other.
his head dipped down into the crook of your neck, warm breath brushing your skin as he let out a long, quiet sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest.
“god” he murmured.
his grip tightened slightly.
“i missed you.”
the words were soft, almost muffled against your neck.
you felt him press little kisses there wherever he could reach. your jaw, the side of your throat, your cheek. quick ones, gentle ones, like he couldn’t help himself.
you smiled immediately, squeezing him closer.
“i missed you too” you said softly.
he hummed quietly against your skin, one of his hands rubbing slow circles against your back now.
“so much” he added.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
another kiss. then another.
“tour was great,” he mumbled, voice warm and slightly scratchy from travel, “shows were great… crowd was insane… but-”
he paused just long enough to press another kiss beneath your ear.
“being away from you sucked.”
you laughed quietly at that.
“it sucked here too” you admitted.
he lifted his head slightly, though he didn’t let go of you. his chin rested lightly against your shoulder now.
“yeah?”
you nodded against him.
“the apartment was so boring without you.”
that made him smile, you could feel it against your skin before you even saw it.
“boring, huh?”
“very.”
he chuckled softly, the sound warm and tired and familiar. his hands stayed on your waist as he looked down at you properly now, eyes scanning your face like he was making sure you were really there.
like he needed to see every detail again.
“hi” he said again, softer this time.
“hi.”
for a second neither of you moved then he leaned down and kissed you. properly this time.
his hands tightened slightly at your waist as your arms stayed looped around his neck, pulling him just a little closer. the kiss was warm and familiar and slow, the kind that made your chest ache in the best way.
he made a small sound into it, something soft and pleased, before pulling back just enough to breathe.
“missed that” he murmured.
you laughed immediately, the sound light and happy.
“that specifically?”
“very specifically.”
he leaned in again, brushing one more quick kiss against your lips before resting his forehead against yours.
“home” he said quietly.
and the way he said it made it clear he wasn’t just talking about the apartment.
joe’s bags sat just inside the door where he’d dropped them. you eventually pulled away from him enough to glance down at them, smiling a little. the duffel looked heavy, and his suitcase had tipped sideways slightly against the wall.
“should probably bring those in” you said.
he groaned quietly but he still loosened his arms around you long enough to grab the duffel and roll the suitcase further into the apartment. you followed him, shutting the door properly and locking it while he kicked his shoes off near the entry.
the second he stepped fully into the apartment though, he paused.
you noticed it immediately.
he looked around slowly, taking everything in.
the living room was neat, the blankets folded nicely on the couch. the kitchen counters were spotless, dishes put away. the windows let in soft afternoon light, and the candle you’d lit earlier still burned gently on the coffee table.
he sniffed the air lightly.
“did you… clean?” he asked, sounding almost amused.
you crossed your arms a little defensively, though you were smiling.
“maybe.”
he turned toward you with this soft, melted expression on his face.
“it smells amazing in here.”
“that’s the candle.”
“no,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “it’s the clean.”
he walked further inside, dropping the duffel beside the couch and setting his suitcase upright near the wall. then he turned back toward you again, still looking around like he couldn’t quite believe it.
“you did all this today?”
you shrugged.
“you were coming home.”
that seemed to do something to him.
his shoulders softened completely, the tiredness from traveling still there but mixed with something warmer now.
“c’mere” he said quietly.
before you could even ask what he meant, he reached for your hand and gently tugged you toward the couch.
he sat down first, leaning back into the cushions with a long, content sigh, then he pulled you with him.
you let out a small surprised laugh when he guided you right onto his lap, your legs settling on either side of him as he wrapped his arms around your waist again.
“joe-”
but he was already pulling you close, tucking you against his chest. his chin rested on the top of your head as one of his hands came up to gently smooth your hair.
then he kissed the top of your head.
“this is nice” he murmured.
you relaxed against him immediately, your arms resting loosely around his middle.
“you’ve been home for like… five minutes.”
“best five minutes of the whole tour.”
you smiled into his shirt.
for a little while neither of you said anything.
the apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of traffic outside and the soft crackle of the candle wick. joe’s fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns against your back while you rested comfortably on top of him.
it felt peaceful. after weeks of distance and late night calls and different time zones, this moment felt almost unreal.
eventually though, joe shifted slightly beneath you.
“wait” he said suddenly.
you lifted your head a little.
“what?”
he fumbled around in the pocket of his jacket for a second before pulling out a small little cloth bag, the fabric slightly wrinkled from being stuffed in there during travel.
“almost forgot.”
he held it up between you.
“what’s that?” you asked.
“souvenirs.”
your eyes immediately lit up.
“joe.”
he laughed quietly at your reaction.
“i knew you’d say that.”
you sat up a little straighter on his lap as he loosened the little drawstring and tipped the contents gently into your hands.
inside were a few small things.
a tiny carved stone figure, a little coin that looked older than anything you’d seen in person before, a small woven bracelet with patterns stitched into it and a little piece of polished rock with faint markings carved along the edge.
you stared at them like he’d just handed you treasure.
“where did you get these?” you asked, already turning the coin over carefully between your fingers.
“different places,” he said. “there was this market near one of the venues… and then a shop near the hotel in chile… and the stone thing was from this museum gift shop.”
you looked up at him, eyes wide with excitement.
“joe, these are so cool.”
he watched your face while you examined everything, your attention bouncing between the items as you turned them over carefully.
and the look on his face softened even more.
“figured you’d like them” he said.
“i love them.”
you were still looking at the little carved figure when you felt his arms tighten around you again.
he pulled you closer, hugging you against his chest.
“worth it” he murmured quietly.
“what is?”
“carrying them around for three weeks.”
you laughed softly.
“you didn’t have to do that.”
“i wanted to.”
you leaned back slightly to look at him again, still holding the small souvenirs in your hands.
“thank you.”
he shrugged a little, but there was that soft smile again.
“every time i saw something like that i just kept thinking… ‘oh she’d like this.’”
your heart squeezed a little at that.
you carefully set the little items back into the bag before turning toward him again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders this time.
“you’re sweet.”
he huffed a quiet laugh.
“don’t spread that around.”
but he hugged you back tighter anyway, one of his hands pressing gently against your back.
for a moment he just held you there, his cheek resting lightly against your hair.
“tour was amazing,” he said after a second. “seriously. best crowds we’ve had in a while.”
you nodded.
“i saw some videos.”
“yeah?”
“you looked really happy.”
he was quiet for a second.
then his arms tightened around you again.
“i was,” he said. “i love touring.”
another small pause.
“but…”
you waited.
his thumb traced a slow line along your back.
“…i didn’t think anything could beat being here” he finished quietly.
you smiled against him and this time neither of you rushed to fill the silence again
