[AUTHORS NOTE: ik i haven't been posting for a while :( sorry everyone I've been going through a rough patch and uh due to very unfortunate circumstances dropped out of college 💔 - But you can only make positives out of negatives so I can maybe write more during free time. For now, have this tiny drabble I came up with xd — so short and maybe one day I'll go back to this idea and write more or not but enjoy! - sincerely, Alex]
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It wasn't a surprise Peter loved photography. Aside from being what his friends appointed him a "Science Wizz", he loved photography, and to be frank, he fell in love with it much earlier than when developing a fond relationship with science. Photography was one of those things Peter found that made life a bit easier, a bit more colorful. Photography was his way of showing strangers how he views the world and how he perceived every tiny detail in his life.
Now the only flaw— well, okay, not flaw - but the only consistency in all of this was that Peter's photography was always centered around landscapes. If you were to ask him, his response would be that he was never fond of photographing people which was partially true, Peter wasn't a huge fan of taking photos of people, he tried it in highschool and he wasn't a big fan of it. Now, on a serious note, if you asked Peter why he didn't photograph people, he'd say he just didn't like bossing people around.
Landscapes and objects were easy! It was his safe zone, his comfort. He didn't need to interact with anyone. He didn't have to tell someone to stop loving or stand still only for them to move. He also didn't have to deal with the very awkward small talk or hear others' opinions. Contrary to popular belief, Peter Benjamin Parker wasn't one to take commentary lightly. Well, okay, he did! He liked the constructive criticism but he knows damn well in his mind he likes working alone because if he finds a mistake he's calling himself out instead of facing the anxiety and humiliation of someone else telling him "that photo looks wonky". He'd practically shrivel up and die if someone randomly points out he fucked up the rule of thirds or the photos too bright or there's slight motion blur because New York wind!
Occasionally, though, he'd have to face the fire. Being surrounded by friends who needed portfolios and had to get a professional photo and between having a friend who was great at photography (their words not Peters) and not paying seemed like a great choice to basically get on their knees and beg Peter to take photos of the than pay some person off Fiverr or Craigslist (if they were feeling cheap). And of course Peter being the amazing friend agrees to it because who is he to deny his friends his service.
Given he'd step out his comfort zone and into wavering dangerous territory but hey these were his friends, he couldn't say no — and they gave him $60 and free pizza so he most certainly wasn't going to make a fuss for nothing!
Life has weird ways of throwing Peter curve balls, as if it loves the idea of catching Peter of guard. It didn't take long for word of his amazing(ly cheap) photography to get word to his friends' friends. It was a matter of time. Weeks. That's all it took, Weeks for word to get out, how can't it when his friends openly bragged about Peter being a life saver for taking their photos for things like work portfolios, headshots, etc. etc.
Word got out so much that Peter loosely agreed when his friend asked him if he could photograph (M/N) since the other needed some headshots or something to be fair he wasnt exactly paying attention until it hit him he'd have to photograph a guy he's only met twice in his entire life and in both occasions they only said hi to one another and met at a mutual friends party. Peter went into this mini photoshoot, thinking he'd come home with 60 bucks in his wallet, 70 if he played his cards right, what Peter didn't expect going home with $80 and finding what he deemed to be his god damn muse.
He stayed awake all night after that photoshoot, between tossing and turning in bed, stuffing his face in his pillow, and repeatedly checking his digital clock next to his bed, Peter's mind only wandered to the photoshoot. It's almost as if something shot through Peter's very soul. Getting up from bed and reaching for his camera and looking over photo after photo, not one was imperfect in his eyes, like (M/N) was the perfect model, he just tied the photos! Replaying the small talk between their little photoshoot and how they were simply just stunning in every photo Peter seemed to snap, even when they moved causing the photo to be way too affected by motion blur, somehow Peter was fascinated by how much he liked them. Each one so flawed that it made it perfect.
Peter was selfish. Selfish and greedy. Those were the two words Peter whispered to himself anytime he volunteered to photograph (M/N). Going as far as to tell white lies that he had class assignments that required him to photograph someone one (that someone coincidentally being (M/N)). Hell, even when he didn't say anything, when he had no excuse, he just liked photographing the other, and (M/N) knew that, he'd always see Peter snap a photo or two in-between their one on one hang outs but he never once was bothered by the idea of being Peter's model in any sense, in fact he encountered it. Always asking Peter if he preferred if he posed for him in a certain way, all teases to let the brunette know he was catching on to his not so sneaky hidden snapped photos.
To anyone, they'd tell you Peter was entering a process, a process where he was being experimental and testing his boundaries with a model, except (M/N) wasn't just his model. No. He was Peter's Muse.
It had gotten so bad that, really, now that Peter shifts back into sticking with landscapes like before, all he can think about is how beautiful the world was, but how more beautiful it would be if (M/N) was there, how much more beautiful the photos would be if (M/N) was in the shot. How the photos would contrast the man's skin color perfectly. Every photo surged inspiration to Peter when he'd imagine (M/N) there, when he'd think about his muse.
Peter never had a muse until (M/N) came along and Peter wouldn't have it any other way.