#spiderman x reader

[kyiriaki]

hidden in plain sight

BND peter parker (who?) x college student f!reader (takes place after Jean Grey storyline)

be warned — MINORS DNI . scent kink, sub!top!peter parker, dom!bot!female!reader, use of toys, use of pet names/nicknames, cunnilingus, masturbation (reader), fingering, cursing

a/n! got the idea when I kept getting this stupid ad for this certain product (no spoilers) so enjoy, also this is not part 2 of the other peter parker fic LMFAO

wc! 2k~

Peter Parker couldn't have been more grateful to whoever is up there because after Jean Grey, after finally accepting he can't be all alone in life—he met you.

Sweet you, who accidentally bumped into him in a cafe and apologized profusely.

Funny you, who invited him to coffee as an apology, and he never laughed harder with someone in two hours.

Brave little you, who gained the courage to ask for his number because you liked talking to him.

Now, Peter's in your apartment, waiting for you to come home so you guys could finally hang out.

It was a fairly new relationship because Peter needed to deal with his issues before fully committing to you, but so far, it's been amazing. While waiting for you, he would walk around your apartment, taking in the things that make it uniquely yours: figurines of your favorite characters displayed, framed photos of the people you love (including one of him and you placed by the TV), a pantry filled with food you loved—and healthy food you forced yourself to buy because you were a responsible adult.

Everything felt like you; everything smelled like you. That's why he loved being in your apartment—his spidey-senses always made it feel like you were with him even when you weren't.

He was even about to grab a drink from your fridge until his phone vibrated in his pants pocket. It was you, asking him to prep you some clothes so you could change as soon as you got home, and of course, Peter said he would do it, no problem.

He loved your bedroom the most because your scent was stronger here than in all the other rooms. He was humming away, sifting through your clothes to find a good pair, and he got up after picking a nice red top and black shorts. He swears he was about to leave, but your vanity stopped him half-way. He always wondered how girls who aren't daughters of billionaires buy so much stuff because he thought spending 30 dollars on shampoo was crazy already—you did have soft hair, though.

He left almost nothing untouched. Your makeup and skincare were read thoroughly and placed back properly. He picked up your cup of makeup brushes last, and one caught his attention the most.

It smelled like you—a little too much like you. Not even your shirts smelled as strong as this. He picked up the brush, eyeing it some more, and was going to put it back until he accidentally twisted it… do makeup brushes vibrate like this?

The next few moments for Peter were a blur. You got home a little while before he found the brushes, and you called out his name to no response, so you just decided to go get clothes yourself. Imagine your shock when you saw Peter holding the vibrator "makeup brush" you bought so no one would find it, wearing a look of utter confusion. He started asking how this helped you put on makeup if you could just move your hand or wrist, to which you responded by grabbing it from him, embarrassed. It took a while for him to get it. The stronger smell, the fact it vibrated, the way your face was flushed beyond return—it finally clicked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to turn it on—" "Peter, don't say anything."

It took a while for you both to calm down, ESPECIALLY you. Peter made you sit on the bed so you didn't have to stand there hunched over to hide your face, and he sat right beside you, quiet. But eventually, you guys just laughed at whatever had just happened. You told him to forget about the makeup brush fiasco, and he jokingly agreed, already pretending he forgot.

"Seriously though, do those things actually feel good?" Peter asked, glancing at it before looking at you.

You giggled, "Yeah, I guess it does. It does the job after a while?" You internally cringed at your explanation.

"I'd do a better job." Peter's attempt at a joke stumped you. You, of course, found your boyfriend smoking hot, but being faced with a "dirty" joke from a man with the most innocent and most pretty eyes ever... it was hard not to feel turned on.

"Oh, really? You're that confident, Petey?" Your voice dropped an octave, leaning your face closer to his.

Peter stammered, "I-it was a joke. A bad one at that—"

This situation was funny—really funny. You guys were supposed to hang out anyway, so why not pick a better activity than watching a movie?

Peter knew he would be watching something tonight, but he thought it would be a romance, a comedy, or maybe horror if he decided he could handle it—but noo, he was basically watching porn.

He was kneeling at the foot of the bed, not moving at all because you told him he wasn't allowed to. He was sweating—was it always this hot? His eyes were dead set on you; well, the bottom half of you.

You let out little gasps as you leaned against the headboard of your bed, your bare legs spread out right in front of him. Your fingers spread your pussy lips apart to give him a better view while your other hand held the vibrator and pressed it onto your clit, sending shocks of sweet pleasure through your body.

You felt more sensitive today than other days you've masturbated, probably because you were feeling shy. You could see Peter's face taking everything in—he couldn't look away even if he ever wanted to. His eyes were as wide as they could be, he was visibly sweating, and that fucking bulge growing in his pajama pants was getting too big to ignore.

You started pressing the vibrator harder, causing you to start moaning as you rubbed it in circles. Your fingers started tracing the entrance of your cunt, and you slipped a finger in. "Petey, do you like what you're watching?"

Peter nodded instantly, getting a little closer, but you stopped him. "Don't come here until I tell you, okay, baby?" you moaned out as you started pumping your finger inside.

The sweet noises you were making were driving him insane, especially how you smelled right now. He could see your pussy getting wetter and wetter, glistening under the bedroom light, and he just wanted to lick it all up for you.

"I can help you—" he said, not daring to move even though he wanted to so badly. "I can help you feel good, baby."

You smiled sweetly, eyes droopy, and forehead shiny with sweat. Peter thought you were so gorgeous right now.

"Come here then. Let me teach you what to do." You took your finger out of yourself and held out your hand. Peter moved slowly, still cautious that he might not be allowed to move. When he was within your reach, you put your finger in front of his mouth. He took your hand in his and put your wet finger in his mouth, sucking it earnestly. You moaned at the sight, your cunt fluttering around nothing.

"You're gonna eat me out, okay, Petey? You okay with that?" You took your finger out of his mouth and buried your hand in his fluffy curls.

"Yeah, of course. Anything you want," he replied, your hand already pushing his head down between your spread legs.

He left small kisses around your body while you pushed his head down. First, a small, sweet kiss on the cheek. Then he moved down to your neck and collarbone, sucking a hickey or two. Then he raised your shirt with one hand to press kisses on your bra-covered chest and hardening nipples, while his other hand took the vibrator from you so he could rub your little bundle of nerves himself. With your hands free, you lay there feeling so, so fucking good.

"Fuck, baby, hurry—I need you—" you said in desperation.

Peter nodded, left one last sweet kiss on your stomach, and finally dipped all the way down.

Peter groaned at the smell; it was too much for him, and it was all he could focus on. His eyes glossy, he took the vibrator away from your clit to lick one big stripe—slow and hard. You moaned, moaned so loudly, from how good it felt.

"Oh—fuck—Petey. Just like that—"

Filled with newfound vigor, he started eating you out earnestly. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, completely abandoning the vibrator somewhere on the bed. He spread you a little wider for better access; his next licks were either fast or slow, soft or hard. He was so focused on your taste and smell that he didn't notice you crying out in pleasure above him, though it would have just spurred him on more anyway.

You grabbed his hair in your hands and pulled his head up. You almost came just from how he looked—mouth covered in your juices and his eyes looking so content.

"Don't f-forget my clit, baby—s-suck on it, too—"

He nodded before diving back in, sucking on and licking your clit harshly. Rubbing his hips in circles, slowly, on your bed, causing him to moan into you.

Your vision started to go blank as you started bucking your hips harshly against his face. He only responded with more groans that sent vibrations through you.

"S-so good—nggh...! Peter—!"

He started rutting against your bed, rubbing his hips faster to get some sweet friction on his cock while he ate you out desperately, he needed to make sure you felt good.

"I'm—I'm gonna c-cum soon, Petey!—Mmph.. s-slow down!" You started pulling on his hair as his eyes rolled up and saw you thrashing your head from his ministrations. He hummed in satisfaction and continued, breathing your scent in. He took two fingers, circling your entrance before slowly shoving them inside and pumping them.

The knot in your belly tightened, your head started buzzing, and you started mumbling incoherent words. He felt the desperate clench of your pussy walls and knew you were close. He ended up focusing all his attention on your clit—sucking and licking while pumping you full with his fingers.

You moaned out desperately, chanting his name and praising him for doing a good job. "S-so a-amazing—y-you're a n-natural, P-petey, I-" You screamed and sobbed all in one, one last time, your cunt tightening desperately around his fingers as he fingered you though your orgasm.

The knot came undone as your back arched off the bed. With your eyes rolling and eyelashes fluttering, you were finally cumming. Peter dipped down to your hole and started sucking and drinking your juices, gulping down what he could. He didn't want to pull his face away; he would eat you out again and again if it meant he could stay buried between your sweet-smelling legs.

When you finally stopped cumming, you took large gasps of air. You reached out for Peter, and when he came toward you, you just hugged him.

"You were so good- I'll take care of you, okay?" you mumbled, referring to his obvious hard-on, and he blushed.

"You don't have to—you did enough—more than enough—" Peter said, pulling away from the hug to brush away the wet strands of hair sticking to your face. God, you loved him. "I love you, Peter Parker, a lot."

You smiled when you saw how messed up he looked, too, and did the same thing, brushing the hair away from his forehead. You also wiped the rest of the wetness from around his mouth while laughing. "I love you too." Peter smiles brightly and your heart suddenly feels so full.

"I'll just rest for a few moments, okay? Then I'll take care of you next, okay, Petey?" you mumbled as Peter laid his head down on your chest. You stroked his hair while humming a random song.

He wrapped his big arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your chest, already content. "Okay."

tag list! @yushiroll

a/n! so the product I was talking about are those damn make-up brushes that vibrate. LIKE IK YA'LL R ADVERTISING THEM AS MAKE-UP BRUSHES BUT WITH HIDDEN MEANING BEHIND YA'LL'S WORDS. https://www.amazon.com/Electric-Waterproof-Rechargeable-Cosmetic-Vibration/dp/B0BTGHB9PY/ref=sr_1_3?sr=8-3

WHAT IF I GET ANOTHER AD BUT MY FAMILY IS IN THE ROOM, WHAT THEN.

[gwenstacythe2nd]

does anyone have any peter parker x y/n stark fic requests? I'm itching to write about them again and need ideas

[omiiverse]

thin walls | chapter 1 - the package 

peter parker x neighbor!reader

cw: slow burn, texting, awkward Peter, mutual pining, neighbors → reluctant friends → whatever this is → lovers, domestic fluff, secret identity, hurt/comfort, Peter being terrible at lying lol

a/n: just watched brand new day and then immediately got a peter parker text edit on my feed and apparently that was all it took lol

There were three things you knew about the guy who lived across the hall.

His name was Peter.

He was almost never home.

And apparently, he ordered an alarming amount of electronics.

You learned the third thing on a Tuesday morning when you nearly tripped over a cardboard box sitting directly in front of your apartment door.

You stopped short, one hand still on the doorknob, and stared down at it.

The hallway smelled faintly like someone downstairs had burned toast. The old radiator at the far end clicked every few seconds even though it was August, and somewhere above you, a dog barked twice before going quiet again.

The box was medium-sized, taped within an inch of its life, and stamped FRAGILE in red across the top.

You crouched.

PETER PARKER
4B

You looked at the number on your own door.

4C.

Close. Not correct.

You sighed, bent down, and picked it up.

But immediately regretted it.

“Jesus.”

Whatever Peter Parker had ordered was heavier than it looked. You shifted the box against your hip and crossed the narrow hallway, knocking twice on 4B with your knuckles.

Nothing.

You waited.

There wasn’t much sound from inside his apartment.

Actually, there was almost never much sound from inside his apartment.

You’d been living across from Peter for just over a week and had already started wondering whether he actually lived there or simply appeared every few days to prove he hadn’t died.

You knocked again.

“Peter?”

The second his name left your mouth, you cringed.

Why had you done that?

You’d spoken to the man approximately twice.

Once on move-in day, when he’d held the downstairs door open while you wrestled an embarrassingly large box through it. You’d thanked him. He’d said, “Yeah, no problem,” then disappeared upstairs before you’d even finished introducing yourself.

The second time had been when the elevator broke.

You’d both stood in front of the closed doors for several silent seconds.

Peter had pressed the button again.

Nothing.

Then he’d looked at the handwritten OUT OF ORDER sign taped directly above it and said, very quietly—

“Cool.”

And taken the stairs.

That was the full extent of your relationship.

You knocked one last time.

Nothing.

“Okay.”

You carried the package back across the hall and set it inside your apartment.

Sabine appeared almost immediately.

She approached the box like it had personally offended her.

“No.”

She sniffed one corner.

“Don’t.”

Her paw lifted.

“Sabine.”

She looked at you.

Then scratched it anyway.

“Great.”

You dragged it farther away from her and went to work.

You completely forgot about Peter’s mysterious box until nearly six that evening.

You’d changed out of your work clothes, thrown your hair up, and were standing in your kitchen wondering whether cereal counted as dinner when your gaze landed on the package beside the couch.

“Oh.”

Sabine was asleep on top of it.

Of course.

You nudged her gently with your foot, “You’re crushing federal property.”

She opened one eye.

You glanced at the label again.

Peter Parker.

Right.

Your landlord had given you Peter’s number after the pipe incident on move-in day—the one where your kitchen sink had leaked through part of the wall between your apartments and Peter had knocked at nearly midnight to inform you, with impressive calm, that his floor was wet.

You found the contact.

Peter (Neighbour)

You stared at it.

Then at the package.

This was normal.

A completely normal neighbor interaction.

You typed.

YOU:

hey, peter right?

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Then vanished.

Appeared again.

Finally—

PETER:

yeah

You waited.

Nothing else.

You frowned.

Friendly.

YOU:

this is your neighbor across the hall lol

PETER:

i figured

Your eyebrows lifted, “Oh, okay.”

Sabine’s ear twitched from the couch. You typed.

YOU:

😭 okay

YOU:

anyway a package of yours got delivered to my door this morning

YOU:

i tried knocking but i don’t think you were home

The typing bubble appeared.

This time it stayed longer.

PETER:

how’d you get my number?

You blinked.

Not thanks.

Not sorry about that.

How did you get my number?

You sat down on the arm of the couch.

YOU:

our landlord gave it to me when my kitchen tried to flood your apartment remember 😭

A pause.

PETER:

right

Then—

PETER:

sorry

PETER:

forgot about that

You stared at the screen.

This man texted like every additional word cost him money.

YOU:

well your extremely mysterious cardboard box is safe with me

PETER:

extremely mysterious?

You smiled despite yourself.

There.

A sign of life.

YOU:

it’s heavy

YOU:

and it says fragile

YOU:

obviously i’m intrigued

The response came faster this time.

PETER:

please don’t open my mail

A laugh escaped you.

YOU:

damn there goes my evening plans

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

You found yourself watching them.

Finally—

PETER:

i’ll pick it up later

YOU:

👍

You put your phone down.

Then looked at Sabine, “See? Normal.”

Sabine yawned.

Apparently, later meant 11:48 p.m.

You had fallen asleep on the couch sometime after ten, one leg twisted beneath a blanket and the television still murmuring quietly in the background.

A knock pulled you awake.

Your eyes opened.

For a second, you had no idea what had woken you.

Then—

Three quiet taps.

Sabine lifted her head from your stomach.

You reached for your phone.

11:48 PM.

Absolutely not.

Another knock.

You sat up slowly.

“Who is it?”

Nothing.

Your heart picked up slightly.

You looked around for something resembling a weapon.

There was a lamp.

Too big.

A candle.

Useless.

Then your eyes landed on the wooden spoon you’d left on the coffee table after eating ice cream directly from the carton earlier.

You grabbed it.

Sabine watched with one eye open as you padded toward the door.

Another soft knock.

“Who is it?”

A pause.

Then—

“Peter.”

You stopped.

Right.

The weird neighbor.

You looked down at the spoon in your hand.

Then unlocked the door.

Peter Parker stood in the hallway.

And immediately, something felt off.

His hood was pulled halfway over his head despite the warm night. His brown hair was damp, sticking messily against his forehead. There was a bruise darkening along one cheekbone, another faint mark near his jaw, and the corner of his lower lip looked slightly swollen.

He looked tired.

Not normal tired.

The kind of tired that sat in the shoulders.

The kind that made somebody look like they’d been awake for several days even when they probably hadn’t.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then Peter’s gaze dropped to your hand.

His eyebrows lifted.

“…Is that a spoon?”

You looked down.

“No?” you look at the weapon in your hand, still slightly half asleep. You shake your head, the feeling of slight embarrassment settling in, “I thought you were a murderer.”

Peter looked at the spoon again.

Then back at you.

“So you brought a spoon?”

“It was the closest thing nearby.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Barely.

But you saw it.

And for some reason, that tiny almost-smile made him look completely different.

You pointed at his face, “What happened to you?”

The almost-smile disappeared and his hand went to his cheek automatically.

“What?”

“Your face.”

“Oh,” The man at your door was clearly at a loss for words.

“Oh?”

Peter’s eyes shifted past you for half a second.

Then back.

“I fell.”

You stared.

He stared back.

“You fell,” you repeat his words in almost disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Onto what?”

A pause.

“…Concrete.”

Your eyebrows pulled together, “From where?”

Another pause.

“Not very high.”

You leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, “You are an extraordinarily bad liar.”

Peter’s expression changed. It happened so fast you almost missed it. His shoulders tightened. The exhaustion disappeared behind something sharper. His eyes lifted to yours.

Alert.

Guarded.

You immediately raised your free hand, “Not my business.”

Peter didn’t answer.

You could practically see him deciding whether to believe you. After a second, something in his posture loosened again.

“Package?”

“Right,” You stepped away from the door, “Hold on.”

You disappeared into your apartment.

Sabine had apparently taken this as permission to approach. By the time you bent to pick up the box, a black blur shot between your ankles.

“Sabine—”

You spun around.

Too late.

She darted straight into the hallway.

Peter reacted before you did.

One second Sabine was halfway toward the stairs.

The next, Peter had crouched and scooped her up against his chest like he’d somehow known exactly where she was going.

You stopped.

Peter stopped too.

Sabine stared at him.

Then—

Traitorously— started purring.

Peter looked down. His entire face softened.

And this time, it wasn’t subtle.

The strange guardedness disappeared completely as he adjusted her carefully in his arms. One hand supported her back legs. The other scratched lightly beneath her chin.

Sabine leaned into it immediately.

You stared.

The man who had just spent five minutes acting mildly suspicious of your existence was holding your cat like she was made of glass.

“Wow.”

Peter looked up, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You said wow.”

“She doesn’t usually like strangers,” You cross your arms.

He glanced back at Sabine. Her eyes were half closed now.

“Maybe I’m not a stranger.”

“You’ve been inside my apartment exactly zero times.”

“I live twelve feet away,” Peter scratched beneath her chin again.

Sabine’s purring got louder.

“What’s her name?”

“Sabine.”

“Sabine,” he repeated. Something about the way he said it made her push her entire face into his palm.

You gasped.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Peter’s head snapped up, “What?”

“Not you,” you say quickly, “Her.”

For half a second, Peter just looked at you.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed.

It was quieter than you expected.

A little surprised, like the sound had escaped before he’d had time to stop it.

And—

Oh.

That was unfortunate.

Because Peter Parker was cute when he laughed.

Not just generically attractive.

Cute.

His whole face changed. His eyes creased slightly at the corners. The tension in his jaw disappeared. He looked younger somehow.

Warmer.

You abruptly turned around.

“Your package.”

Great.

Excellent recovery.

You grabbed the box and brought it over.

Peter shifted Sabine easily into one arm.

You stared, “You’re stealing my cat now?”

“She seems comfortable.”

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“My cat.”

He looked down. Sabine blinked lazily from his arms.

“She doesn’t seem like she wants to go.”

“Sabine.”

Nothing.

“Come here.”

Nothing.

Peter’s mouth twitched. You pointed at him.

“Don’t—“

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

“What did my face say?” He cracks another small grin.

“‘Your cat likes me more than you.’” Your eyes narrow.

Peter looked mildly offended, “I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I don’t know you well enough to insult you like that,” he gives her one last scratch and her purr deepens.

“How polite,” You roll your eyes then held out your arms.

Peter finally gave Sabine back. The traitor actually looked over your shoulder at him.

“You are unbelievable,” you stroke her cheek.

Peter took the box from you. The weight barely seemed to register.

That was—

Huh. You frown. You’d nearly thrown your back out carrying it.

Peter tucked it beneath one arm like it was empty.

You looked at the box.

Then at him.

Peter noticed, “What?”

“Nothing.”

He adjusted the package, “Thanks for keeping this.”

“Of course.”

He nodded. For a second, the conversation seemed finished.

Peter turned toward 4B.

“Peter?”

He looked back.

You gestured toward your cheek, “You should put ice on that.”

His expression became unreadable again. The change was smaller this time. But you saw it.

Then he nodded.

“Yeah.”

He unlocked his door. You stood there with Sabine tucked against your chest.

“Goodnight.”

Peter opened his door.

Then glanced over, “Goodnight, Spoon.”

Your mouth fell open.

His door closed. You stared at 4B.

“Did you just—”

Silence.

You looked down at Sabine.

She meowed.

“Don’t defend him.”

You went inside.

At 12:07 a.m., your phone buzzed.

You were already in bed, Sabine curled near your feet.

You squinted at the screen.

Peter (Neighbour):

what kind of cat is sabine

You stared.

Then slowly smiled.

Interesting.

YOU:

oh NOW you wanna talk to me

Three dots.

PETER:

forget i asked

You laughed into your pillow.

YOU:

HAHAHAHA

YOU:

domestic shorthair

YOU:

aka random cat

PETER:

she’s nice

You let out a dry laugh and looked toward the lump at the end of the bed, “Apparently.”

Then typed—

YOU:

she likes you apparently 🙄

A pause.

PETER:

smart cat

Your eyebrows shot up.

You sat up slightly.

YOU:

?????

PETER:

goodnight

Your mouth fell open.

YOU:

NO COME BACK

YOU:

you can’t suddenly develop a personality and then leave

Read 12:09 AM.

No response.

You stared at your phone screen, “…Asshole.”

There was a dull thump through the wall. You looked over.

Then—

Faintly.

Almost too quiet to be sure.

Laughter.

You slowly smiled.

Interesting.

Three days later, you discovered Peter apparently only communicated voluntarily when bribed with an emergency.

YOU:

peter

No response.

You waited thirty seconds.

YOU:

peter parker

Nothing.

You smiled.

YOU:

neighbor formerly known as spoon hater

Three dots appeared.

PETER:

what

You grinned.

YOU:

huge favor

PETER:

no

You sat up.

YOU:

I haven’t even asked you yet

PETER:

i’m busy

You looked toward the wall.

Quiet.

YOU:

okay nevermind 😭

You put the phone down.

One minute.

Two.

You smiled when it buzzed.

PETER:

what is it

There it was.

You picked it back up.

YOU:

i’m leaving friday and won’t be back until sunday night

YOU:

the person who was supposed to feed sabine cancelled

You hesitated.

Then added—

YOU:

you can say no!! seriously

YOU:

i just remembered she likes you and thought i’d ask

The typing bubble appeared.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

Peter apparently thought about every text like it required legal review.

Finally—

PETER:

i can feed her

Your smile widened immediately.

YOU:

REALLY

PETER:

yeah

YOU:

you’re literally saving my life

PETER:

pretty sure i’m just feeding a cat

YOU:

same thing

A pause.

PETER:

where’s your spare key

You typed without thinking.

YOU:

under my doormat

Nothing.

Then—

PETER:

you’re joking

You frowned.

YOU:

no?

PETER:

you keep your spare key

PETER:

under your doormat

YOU:

yes peter that’s typically where people keep spare keys

His response was immediate.

PETER:

no it’s where people in movies keep spare keys right before they get murdered

You laughed.

YOU:

dramatic

PETER:

move it

YOU:

where 😭

PETER:

anywhere else

You grinned.

YOU:

fine dad

Nothing.

Then—

PETER:

don’t call me that

You burst out laughing.

YOU:

sorry dad

PETER:

i’m not feeding your cat anymore

You sat up.

YOU:

PETER 😭

PETER:

move the key

YOU:

yes sir 🫡

A longer pause.

PETER:

somehow worse

You laughed for an embarrassing amount of time.

Friday afternoon, you put the key beneath the flowerpot instead. Which, admittedly, wasn’t a significant improvement. But Peter didn’t need to know that.

You took a picture.

YOU:

happy?

The response came almost immediately.

PETER:

better

You stared.

YOU:

you know this is like 2 feet from the original spot right

PETER:

still better

You rolled your eyes.

YOU:

sabine’s food is in the cabinet beside the fridge

YOU:

half a can morning + night

YOU:

and don’t believe her if she says she hasn’t eaten

PETER:

how would she say that

You smiled.

YOU:

you’ll know

PETER:

okay

You finished zipping your bag.

Then:

YOU:

thank you again peter :)

A pause.

PETER:

have fun

You stopped.

It was such a normal response. Still, something about it surprised you.

Then another message came.

PETER:

and don’t worry about her

PETER:

i got it

Your expression softened.

For all the weirdness surrounding Peter, something about those words felt strangely reliable.

You smiled.

YOU:

i know :)

At 8:42 that night, your phone buzzed.

You were lying on a hotel bed scrolling aimlessly when the notification appeared.

A picture.

You opened it. Then immediately laughed.

Sabine was sprawled across Peter’s chest. His face wasn’t visible except for the bottom of his jaw. Gray T-shirt. One arm stretched awkwardly along the couch. And an unreasonable amount of black fur.

PETER:

she hasn’t moved in 40 minutes

You grinned.

YOU:

HAHAHAHAHA

YOU:

she owns you now

PETER:

i need to go home

YOU:

you live twelve feet away

PETER:

still

YOU:

sorry parker you’re a father now

PETER:

absolutely not

Another picture arrived.

Sabine had moved closer to his face.

You laughed again.

PETER:

help

YOU:

you look pretty comfortable to me

A pause.

Then—

PETER:

she’s warm

You bit your lip.

That was…weirdly adorable.

YOU:

awwwwww

PETER:

don’t

YOU:

peter parker cat dad 🥺

PETER:

blocking you

YOU:

goodnight peter 😂

A minute passed.

PETER:

night

Then—

PETER:

she’s fine btw

PETER:

ate all her dinner

Your smile softened. That was the thing about Peter. For somebody who acted like he wanted to be left alone, he was surprisingly good at making sure you didn’t worry.

YOU:

thank you :)

No answer.

You put your phone down.

Then—

Around midnight—

another buzz.

Another picture. Sabine asleep beside Peter on your couch.

No caption.

Just the photo.

Peter’s socked feet were visible at one edge. One hand rested near Sabine’s back.

You stared at it longer than necessary.

Then saved it.

Accidentally.

Obviously.

What you didn’t know was that Peter had spent the previous twenty minutes sitting almost completely still because Sabine had fallen asleep against his side and he hadn’t wanted to wake her.

You didn’t know that underneath the gray T-shirt in the first picture was a fresh cut stretching over his ribs.

You didn’t know he’d changed before going into your apartment because the red-and-blue suit underneath his hoodie had been torn at the shoulder.

You didn’t know that the mysterious package you’d kept safe for him contained web-fluid cartridges and a replacement component for one of his shooters.

And you definitely didn’t know that thirty minutes before feeding your cat, your quiet, slightly strange neighbor had been swinging between buildings thirty stories above Manhattan.

There were, in fact, a lot of things you didn’t know about Peter Parker.

You’d learn them eventually.

But for now—

He was just the weird guy in 4B.

The one your cat liked.

The one who texted like words were expensive.

The one who came home bruised and lied badly.

The one whose laugh you could sometimes hear through the wall.

And, although you hadn’t realized it yet—the first person you were beginning to listen for when the hallway went quiet.

[cheriieluv]

i just watched spider-man: brand new day yesterday and tell me it's not the perfect multi-chapter fic of peter being in love with mj while reader yearns and unrequitedly in love with him dude

[piss-pumpkin]

Long way down (Spiderman x reader)

Mcu Spiderman x reader ~3k words Gn reader set around Brand New Day canon, part 1/?

Cw- mention/implication of suicidal thoughts (this is brief though)

On the roof, you could hear the hum and buzz of New York. Your apartment building was high enough to get a good view of the city— lights of all colours blurred together on the road below as the puddles contorted them. Even late into the night, noise drifted up your way. Cars honked and vague sounds of people yelling echoed over the sidewalk. Busy night. 

It wasn’t the most comfortable up there. Earlier rain had dampened the concrete, which in turn dampened you. The cold crept through your palms where they braced behind you. The feeling tended to crawl further up your chest. You shivered slightly, hugging your sweater close as you looked down. 

On nights like these, it was hard to resist sitting up there. Your legs swung lightly off the buildings edge, and to balance out the danger you leaned back on your hands. In the dark, nobody noticed to stop you. 

Up there was a strange sense of tranquility. The city’s constant movement contrasted your stillness, and it balanced out into a personal sense of silence. It was noisy, but felt far enough away that the moment was yours alone. In the tiredness, monotony, and  restlessness of university, roof time was a rare escape. 

You looked down at the street as your legs kicked happily. Some guys were hanging around a nearby street, some other guys were drinking on a different one, a few girls were laughing loudly as they walked—

“Hey there!” 

You flinched so hard your hands tried to grip flat concrete. As your head whipped around behind you you saw a blur of red and blue. What? You squinted, confused for a moment. “Fucking Spiderman?” You asked, brow furrowing as he jogged over to you. Fucking Spiderman was on your roof?

”The very one,” he said, standing beside you. His foot tapped the roof for a moment before he dropped down to sit. 

You stated blatantly, mouth hung slightly open. “Just… hanging around?” You asked. You’d seen him swinging around, or pop up on your feed while scrolling, but you’d never actually met him before. Lucky for you, he’d never had to save you. He sounded a lot different in person. More friendly, or light. 

He swung his legs off the edge like you, and his feet tapped against the wall. Lots of tapping from him. “Just doing some night swinging,” he said, “checking for crimes around, people to save. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman stuff.” 

You looked at the street below again. No crimes around there. Except maybe a usual amount of public indecency you’d expect to see this late on a Friday night. You looked back at Spiderman. Wow. On second look you were still surprised to see him. Even though you knew he was there. First time meeting a big local celebrity. 

“There, uh,” you started, fingers scraping against the wet roof. You squinted, awkwardly looking back away, “doesn’t seem to be any crime around here.”

He leaned back on his palms, the same stance as you. “Well, you never know, any one of those guys could be a supervillain incognito,” he joked. Or… you thought he was joking. That seemed to be his tone, but the mask made it hard to tell. The closest indicator you had to inflection was the goggles. His expression could, at the eyes, squint or widen. 

He turned to you, those goggles seeming to soften. If that was possible. “How about you? Are you alright?” He asked, tone light and sincere.

“Uh, yeah?” You answered. This seemed like a waste of his time. He should probably be out, like, fighting the Scorpion again, or something. “Why?” 

He shook his head, and looked back at the street. “Just… checking in. Doing my job, is all. Good to check in on people, sometimes,” he said. He crossed his legs at his ankles, swinging them so his heels gently hit the wall. “Do you just… like hanging out up here?” 

You squinted at him. Was Spiderman hitting on you? What was the vibe here? “Yeah, it’s a nice view,” you said. The city lights reflected on his suit and even brighter on the eye piece. 

The red light of a traffic signal flashed over the goggles, “Oh, yeah, you don’t need to tell me,” he laughed, “I have a lot of spots like these I go to.” 

He folded his hands in his lap, fidgeting slightly with his thumbs. “I just thought I’d-“ he started, looking at you. Even without eye contact, you could feel the intensity of it. Your fingers tensed against the concrete. “It’s just… a long way down, is all,” he said, finally. 

You looked down. It was a tall building, he was right. The talking and yelling in the sidewalk was audible, but distant. Oh. You looked back at Spiderman, his goggles seeming wider. Oh, he must have thought… 

Spiderman was definitely not hitting on you, then.

Your lips pursed, embarrassed. Your hands flew up to wave in dismissal, “it’s nothing like that,” you assured. He really thought you were going to… you looked down again. Not only that, but he actually saw you. And came to help. You looked back at him, studying the mask and the green light that spilled over it. 

“Oh, good,” he said lightly. “I saw you and I was a little worried.” 

You smiled, leaning back a little further, and facing him a little more directly. “You’re a pretty good superhero, aren’t you?” 

Spiderman seemed to chuckle, his chest moving slightly. He moved opposite to you, sitting up only to hunch a little as he braced himself on his knees. “Well, I’d like to think so,” he said, sounding playful. 

This was kind of fun. Spiderman was actually really nice. Well duh, yeah, he’s a hero, but as a guy it was a bit surprising. Sitting beside you, he did just seem like a guy. “I mean, most people wouldn’t have even noticed me,” you said, gesturing at the street below. All the people you’d seen earlier had long past, and not looked up to see you a single time. The cars still honked and passed without notice. The only thing unchanging was the lights, which though they flickered with different colours, never went out. 

“Well, it’s kind of part of my job description to catch this stuff,” he laughed.

You smiled, “that’s like, pretty cool,” you said. 

“Well, I can quit bothering you, then, as long as you promise not to slip once I go,” he said, sitting back up off his knees. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you to desire this, but you didn’t really want to stop hanging out with him. “Oh, no,” you started, putting your hand up to wave no. “I’m not bothered. I enjoy the company.”

He didn’t stand up immediately, instead looking at you once again with those obscuring goggles. Your lips twitched a little as you realized what you were asking. Spiderman had way more important things to do then sit there, but on you went. “Honestly,” you started, “I wouldn’t mind chatting, if you had the time.” 

He shook slightly, in a way you could assume was a nod or a light laugh. “Yeah, I’ve got time,” he said. And you could totally tell he was smiling, at least a little. “There’s no big baddies on the loose right now.” 

There sure wasn’t. It was, for New York, at least, a pretty calm evening. You leaned all the way back, hands folding behind your head as you looked up. The wet concrete cold seeped through your sweater. In the bright city light, you could barely see stars. But the city billboards and traffic signals and towers were a close comparison. “So like, is it fun?” You asked, “being Spiderman. Like… the swinging around looks cool, and even the fighting, sometimes.” 

He laugh a little, and leaned back on his hands. Not quite laying beside you, but close. You could look up at him, and take in the vague shape of his face by the curve of his jaw and how the mask rested from his chin to nose. There was a slight outline of lips moving as he spoke, “the web swinging is pretty awesome, you’re totally right about that.” 

He leaned a little further, his fingers spreading on the concrete roof. “Fighting bad guys is a little less,” he said. “I get pretty beat up, sometimes, and it’s not like I like beating them much either. I try to keep it friendly.”

He shifted a little more, and gave in and laid down. He folded his hands over his chest, and let his head sit on the damp roof. “I try to keep it light, you know? Make some jokes,” he said, a sigh creeping into his gentle laugh. “I hope if I can make them laugh, we won’t have to fight as hard, like maybe we both have a sense of humour under the mask and they chill out a little.” 

You stared, lips hung slightly open. His goggles remained fixed on the sky above as his fingers idly tapped at his chest. “Does…” you closed your mouth a moment, preferring not to look that stupid. “Does that work?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not usually. Usually they get more mad,” he said lightly. “But I think I’m pretty funny, at least.” 

You pursed your lips, laughing through your nose. “People seem to think so, too,” you said. “I did enjoy the clip of you hitting that guy with the piano. I can appreciate some of your jokes.”

“Oh, you saw that one?” He asked excitedly, head turning to face you. 

“It’s like, your most popular clip right now,” you snickered, “hard not too.” 

“Right. I was pretty proud of that one, I won’t lie to you.” 

You chatted with Spiderman for a while, and man was that surreal. Did he do this often? Just hangout with people he tries to help? You learned a lot about the guy behind the mask that night. Nothing detailed, but it was hard not to notice the little things. Like, he had a playful way of speaking. You noticed it when he fought villains and quipped at them, and he was the same in more casual conversations. And he was definitely around your age, the conversation was too easy in the same way it was with friends. And he seemed a little lonely. Like, he was pretty happy just to hangout with a stranger.

Time passed, and a different group of night-owl New Yorkers walked around the sidewalk below. Then another group, and another. City never stopped moving. 

“So like,” you started, hand drifting above you to fidget through the air. You watched the lights edge across your fingers as you spoke, “are you a normal guy? When you aren’t being Spiderman?”

A little hum escaped the mask, “I’m mostly just… Spiderman, these days,” he laughed. But you could tell, it was more of a nervous laugh. 

Come to think of it, Spiderman was always around. You had to silence the Spidey tracker because of the near constant notifications— this guy was always being spotted somewhere. Even on a random uneventful night, here he was, in costume and ready to save you. That can’t leave much time to be whoever the guy behind the mask is. 

“Sounds like a lot of work,” you said idly, hand falling back to rest in your chest. You sucked your cheek between your teeth to chew. 

Hopefully this wouldn’t be awkward. But it was totally going to sound like you were hitting on him. Which, though not an unwelcome interpretation, wasn’t entirely what you were going for. You looked over at him, and he turned to look at you. “You know,” you said, “you could always come by and hangout with me again, if you need a break.” 

His lenses popped pretty wide, and his head jerked back to look up again. 

Shit. You recoiled, heart beating a little faster. You may have done something few New Yorkers can say they’ve done— weird Spiderman out. How often did that happen? Maybe he got a lot of creepy fans.

He cleared his throat, “Sure,” he said, voice a little higher. “I’ll totally do that. I should, uh, get going, but yeah!” You could hear his grin under the mask creeping into his voice. “Totally yeah.”

He stood up, and offered you a hand to do the same. When you took it, you could get a glimpse of his super strength. His grip was solid, but gentle. You could feel that he could crush your hand if he wanted. He put a little strength into pulling you up, and for a moment you were startled. Yeah, you were already going to stand up, but even if you were still as stone he’d be able to pull you there. You held his hand a moment too long as you gathered your bearings. This guy was strong. Talking with him, he felt like a regular person. But a touch was a reminder that this was a superhuman.

You let go after a moment, and brushed yourself off. Your back was wet, now, from laying there. Spiderman’s probably was, too. People would see him tonight and not know why he was damp, but you would. It was a strangely comforting thought. The mark of a moment only you knew. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me, tonight,” you said. “I didn’t expect you to be so chill, Spiderman.” 

He laughed slightly.

“And uh,” you looked at the floor, suddenly interested in  the roof. “Thanks for looking out for me, too,” you said. You rubbed your arm, a little anxious. This seemed more sincere than you’d usually be, but this was Spiderman. It’s not like you knew him, or he you. If there was anyone you could trust, it was probably him. “There wasn’t any danger tonight, but,” you started, scratching lightly at your arm. “You’re right, it is a long way down. And it’s nothing I haven’t thought of before. So… I’m glad that you’re around to notice that kind of stuff. I’m sure a lot of other people are, too.” You did your best to look at him, but man was it hard. 

His lenses widened for a moment, and he looked around. Spiderman was also interested in the concrete for a moment. “Oh, uh,” he trailed off. “Yeah, anytime. Really, I’m here to help.”

You smiled, and pressed your lips together to stop it from growing into a grin. Spiderman was actually really nice. “I appreciate it,” you said gently, letting the words hang in the air. 

He let the moment sit, as well. Not for long though, abruptly asking, ”Do you want me to swing you home?” He mimicked his own web shooting gesture, his two fingers pressed into his palm. 

You suppressed a smile, shaking your head. “No need, this is my building,” you snickered, thumb pointing behind you at the to door to the stairwell. 

His lenses widened, “wait really?” 

“Uh, yeah?” 

He hummed for a moment, hands awkwardly dusting himself off. Then he clasped them in front of him. “That’s-“ he started, but seemingly gave up on the sentence. His hands practically slapped his hips as they moved to rest there. “Crazy, I swing by here a lot, and I never see you up here,” he said. 

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile. This guy was kind of weird. In a cool way. Really awkward, probably a dork kind of way. “I guess we’ve just missed each other,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m here every once in a while, maybe you should swing by more.” 

“Maybe you should come out more,” he said quickly, shifting a little where he stood. 

This guy. Maybe Spiderman did actually want to hangout, or something. And wasn’t weirded out at all. You shook your head, making no effort to suppress your smile. “Sure, I can do that,” you laughed lightly. Now it was your turn to shift a little, fidgeting by standing on your heels as you spoke, “If you see me, swing by and say something.” 

“I totally will,” he said, and you could practically hear the smile. “Yeah.” 

You nod, still shifting around from flat foot to heel. “Hope I see you around, then,” you said. 

“Uh yeah, me, too.”

The moment hung there, a little awkwardly. Not necessarily in a bad way. You crossed your arms, nodding one last time and offering a small wave before turning on your heels to head inside. He was swinging away when you closed the door behind you and couldn’t resist looking over your shoulder. Maybe you’d hangout with Spiderman again. That was a weird thought. You bit back a grin all the way to your apartment. 

                                         …

The next morning you paid for your late night. A headache clawed at you and every step made you groggier. Your nine a.m. lecture was going to be an absolute bitch. 

You stepped into the elevator with your eyes half shut, and hoped you hit the right button. Fuck, you were probably going to have to nap on campus later. Hopefully nobody was in the good couches, and you could camp out on one of them. 

“Oh, hi!” A chipper voice said. 

There was another person in the elevator? You looked around, and sure enough there was another guy there. Wow, you should open your eyes more. “Uh, hey,” you said, voice gravelly. 

He smiled slightly, “I’m Peter, we’re on the same floor.” 

You squinted, and tried not to look too angry. But it was way too early for weird neighbours to talk to you. The best part of this floor was that nobody did, everyone seemed to be a recluse. Even Peter, here. Fucking weirdo. Man, you were way too judgy in the morning. But he had way too much energy.

You recoiled slightly from the early bird attitude, but tried to keep it nice, “uh, good to meet you,” you croaked out, and rushed out of the elevator the moment you hit ground level. 

I watched brand new day and something came over me. I haven’t been fanfic crazy about this character in years but here we are. Might make this a series lowkey. I want to.

[acanthasdreams]

your red and my blue - peter parker 🕷️ ₊˚⊹♡

no i really do suck at writing consistently but brand new day changed my brain chemistry and im back to desiring to write if only for my beautiful baby boy peter. lowkey angst in some ways cause I discovered some angst depressed peter fics and got influenced lols. also this olivia album fr fr is carrying my writing!! warnings: I am clearly not from the east coast/ny pls forgive me if there is inaccuraracies, hence why reader is also not from the east coast/ny. Forgive my asssss back-from-hiatus writing 🥀short, comfort/fluff content

Peter planned to avoid ever speaking to his neighbors. He didn't need friends, he just needed to focus on his main job: being Spiderman and trying to move on with his life somewhat. Especially considering he felt he didn't deserve it after everything, he didn't want another person to get hurt. But then he found his very blue life mixing with your red, suddenly the blue turned purple.

🕷️ . *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄ 

You panted as you sat on the staircase of your new apartment, you had done multiple trips to get all your boxes moved up into your new apartment.

Moving into a possibly asbestos infested, dingy apartment building was not how you imagined your Saturday to begin. Not until a few days ago, where your old apartment chose to suddenly increase the rent by a few hundred dollars. A few hundred you could not spare in the most expensive city ever. 

This was the next best option in a time crunch.

It was cheaper than your last one, and definitely looked it’s price.

You felt like Violet Sanford entering her apartment building and seeing the bathtub in the same space as the kitchen. Though you were lucky it wasn't as bad as that.

Curse New York City apartments...

Peter had spotted you immediately as he was walking up the stairs to get to his apartment...well, his attic. It was clear you needed help, and it explained the various and many boxes at the bottom of the stair case. 

He hesitated to speak to you.

He hated having to interact with his neighbors, and while he didn't know you yet, he knew any interaction could lead to more and more and then you'd be having to get saved from some ultra evil mega super villain and- 

"You look like you need some help." His Spiderman urge to help kicked in before the scared Peter Parker within could make him stop. He tried to smile to hide his initial hesitation, but found his smile became more genuine as he saw your expression change to one of a saved civilian.

"Yes." You drew out, it was like God had heard your prayers, and here was what he procured, a cute looking guy with floppy hair and sweet eyes. "What's with New York City apartments and having a gajillion stairs?" 

He laughed softly at your complaints, clearly, you weren't a native New Yorker. He would've loved to argue that gajillion also wasn't a real number but he had to feel at least some sympathy for you. 

"It's special like that, I like to think." He could also appreciate the fact that those gajillion stair apartments are what allowed him to swing all through the city, but he could understand the struggle for a regular person. "Look, let me help you. Gimme...three trips tops." 

He gave you a goofy smile, seeming to challenge you to believe him.

"Three trips? What are you, Spiderman?" You were joking obviously, but some part of Peter cringed at the idea of you actually knowing.

"I'm definitely friendly, if anything." He tried to joke back with a weak laugh. That seemed to make you soften.

You accepted his help. 

Though... after all the other trips you took, you were only able to carry one more box up the stairs before tapping out half way. Peter, as you learned was his name, was somehow able to carry multiple big boxes at once, even the ones that had your heaviest items, and finished in three trips. Just like he said. (He totally didn’t web sling a few up while you took a break in your apartment).

Your apartment was filled with boxes now, and your heart full of extreme appreciation for your new neighbor.

"Thank you so much Peter." You thanked him as you both stood at your apartment entrance, he could see in your eyes the gratitude they held. "Once my apartment is up and running I promise, I'll treat you to dinner."

Peter tried to hold back the inkling that he would not be able to take you up on that. He knew if the opportunity came up, he'd say he was busy or something of the sort.

"Don't worry about it, really." He said, nudging your arm like you were good friends.

"No, really. What apartment are you in? If anything I can always just drop something off as a thank you." Your eyes seemed so hopeful, insisting that you wanted to repay him somehow. And you genuinely did.

"Oh- uh, well I actually live in the attic but-" 

"Attic?" You have a breathy laugh, almost believing that he was joking, "Okay, I will choose not to question that for your sake, but I'll keep that in mind."

And you did, genuinely.

While Peter planned on continuing to be the avoidant apartment neighbor, you somehow kept finding him. It was like bumping into you that day and helping move in your boxes made both your paths intersect until they formed a circle he couldn't get out of.

He kept seeing you everywhere, you'd meet in the laundry room every time he actually remembered he needed to do laundry. In the hallways, you'd bump into him when you left for work and he was coming back from night patrol. 

Or you would come to his door to ask simple questions.

Knock, knock, knock.

Peter already knew who it was, “EV hide my screens while my neighbour is here.”

“Copy that.” EV spoke back, and his screens all went back to things not relating to criminals and hidden city cameras.

You were waiting expectantly outside his apartment door.

“Peter, quick question…what is your favorite bodega?” While you thought asking was completely normal, he looked bamboozled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You came to his door from two floors below to ask him that?

“Uhhh- Delmar’s. In Queen’s.”

As he answered you couldn’t help but look him over a bit. He looked more tired than the last time you had seen him, and had new cuts littering his puppy-like face. You glanced at them, but decided not to bring it up in case it turned out he was a criminal or something. But then again, why would a criminal have such an adorable face?

You hummed at his answer. “Is it worth it to take the subway to try that spot though?” 

Peter held back a chuckle, but it still came out. 

In his interactions with you, it was entertaining that you considered him your personal encyclopedia to New York culture. He was kind enough not to make you feel like that annoyed him, though.

“You asked what my favorite was. Not which one you should try.”

“Well I would try anything you said was your favorite.” You said, like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Okay.” Peter bit back a smile, sighing before finally giving you the answer you were looking for. “Then try Gato’s across the street. It’s better to just try the most local bodegas and see which owner makes you laugh the most or gives you the best price because he thinks you’re beautiful- uh, well, I mean that in a good way.”

You grew a bit flustered over the small compliment he’d seemed to have accidentally put in there. Accident because he was try hard to seem casual, leaning against his door and readjusting himself again. But you seemed rather satisfied with the answer you received, smiling like he just gave you the world.

“Okay, thanks.” You turned to leave, but quickly came whipped back around with a pointed finger. 

“Also, what’s your go-to order?”

And so it went. He was your favorite and (he assumed) probably the only person you asked questions to.

“What's a good place to buy flowers around here”, "Peter, which park is your favorite?", “Peter, where can I get good coffee?” 

After so many questions, which he honestly didn’t mind if it weren't for the fact that there had been way too many times you had almost gotten a peek at something important he was working on for his suit or a crime case. He chose to reluctantly give you his one and only business number so he would have a break from stressing about whether you saw something you shouldn’t have.

Besides all that, on nights you got home late from work you'd often bring him something warm to eat. And while he desperately needed something besides another Little Ceasar’s pizza, you didn’t know that. Yet you always came at the perfect time.

"You really don't have to-" He would plead, trying to make sure his door was closed enough while he juggled the bag of food you’d brought him.

It had been raining all day, and the food truck usually had a long line. He could only imagine how long you stood there with your umbrella waiting for double the amount of food.

"'-But I want to." You'd say, the same smile grazing your face every single time before you disappeared into the hallway so he couldn’t argue back.

Eventually, he caved.

He couldn't help it. 

Ever since the party he self invited to, where he met MJ and Ned he just felt...truly lonely. 

Everyone moved on and he was still just…forgotten.

The only person who truly knew his name was you. Maybe it was the forced proximity but he felt that if anyone knew him even remotely besides Frank (who was too old to really count), it was the insistent neighbor who kept trying to socialize with him despite his best attempts at seeming anti-social and failing every time he found himself giving you a smile and a laugh, answering every question you could bring to him.

On one particular late rainy night, he made the mistake of coming from a night patrol through the laundry room window. His clothes were soaked from the rain and he knew he left some clothes in the washer. 'Maybe they would dry fast enough', he thought...only to find you there, folding some clothes that looked suspiciously like his.

You were startled as you saw him. Firstly because why was he coming in through the window? And secondly, why was he all beat up?

You had noticed the bruises and cuts that often littered his face or hands, but man. He looked like a mess.

"Peter...what happened to you?" 

He involuntarily slumped against you as you asked, completely beaten and tired. His hoodie and jacket felt much heavier than they normally did. And to you, he just felt heavy as you tried to steady him against the washing machine.

"Geez, Pete...remember I'm not that strong." You tried to make a joke to lessen the seriousness of the situation as you held him steady. Peter felt more than appreciative over it, yet he also felt guilty.

'Here we go again...another person to scare and disappoint.'

"Sorry..." He mumbled, "I'm jus' really tired."

"Yeah you look like a mess." You muttered, now seeing that the joke didn't lessen the gravity of the situation. Tugging back his heavy jacket as gently as possible to let it slip off his shoulders, your concern doubled as he winced from the simple motion. 

"You need to take off these soaked clothes or you'll catch a cold." You reassured, trying to make him understand that whether he liked it or not, you were gonna help him. The pain in Peter’s body temporarily disappeared as his head swam with thoughts.

Why were you always so concerned with him? Why did you always find him at the times he needed you most even when you didn’t know that? Why did his heart speed up at the idea that you were concerned over something so simple as him getting sick?

"W-what are you even doing here this late?"

He hissed as you didn't answer immediately, but instead gently helped peel off the black hoodie he had on under his jacket. He felt shy at the help he was receiving from you without even having asked. He was more flustered as his injuries were now being exposed to you in real time. His grey shirt was saved from rain but was definitely not saved from the blood still seeping through from his earlier fight.

You chose not to question it, however. You never did and he didn’t exactly get why someone as curious as you wouldn’t mention the obvious things you noticed.

But the truth was that not questioning this time was not exactly by choice, but by how buff his arms were under that usual black hoodie he wore. Now that…that was distracting.

You cleared your throat as you finally processed what he had asked.

"Came home late from work.” You shrugged, peeling up his grey shirt half-way to assess where the pool of blood was coming from. You held your breath at how absolutely ripped he was, and you bit back the need to mention it considering there was a wound oozing blood on his side, along with other bruises in various shades. 

“Plus you keep leaving your clothes in the washer and you weren't in your apartment so I just put them in the dryer and started folding them after I did my load." 

Peter grew quickly flustered at how you handled him like you were already close friends. But also because it was such simple reasoning to help him yet again. Peter's heart seemed to grow softer.

All the walls he'd built up after losing everything were threatening to crash.

You didn't want to overstep his boundaries any further than you already did, so you just handed him a few of the clothes atop the neatly folded stack, "You can change into them while they're still warm...I'll get a first aid kit." 

Peter watched as you scurried out of the laundry room. He had to imagine how quickly you were running up the gajillion stairs of your apartment building to get the kit from your apartment. 

'Why’ Why couldn't he just leave while he had the chance? The chance to save you from having to tend to him like some poor, broken boy. 

This is why he didn't want to be close to anyone.

He sighed, but eventually he put the fresh clothes on through painful grits. The clothes were warm, like you said. You’d clearly used your personal dryer sheets, because they smelled floral and vanilla-y, like the ones with the cute bears outside the box. He recalled the scent clinging to you when he usually saw you.

You came just in time, the kit in your hands and a determination he'd never seen in your eyes.

Sitting on top of the washer and dryer, Peter held his new and clean shirt up as you wiped the particularly nasty gash on his abdomen. He held back hisses when you pressed just a little too hard. 

"Sorry” You winced as you noticed how Peter’s face was scrunched up in pain, “Look- I know you're super secretive or whatever, but man, what are you? A mercenary?" Your tone was sarcastic, but also genuinely concerned.

He shook his head, trying to find a reasoning. Something to use as a lie. 

"It's nothing. Just…got hurt at the subway station, it's nothing."

You let out a deep sigh after that. It was obviously a terrible lie.

"Yeah? And you get hurt at the subway station every other night too? This isn't the first time you come home at whatever hour of the night or morning or whatever- wincing at some injury." You tossed the dirty cotton beside you as you began to apply ointment to the wound. Your brows were furrowed in a mix of frustration and concentration,  "I'd believe it if it wasn't reoccurring, but you're not as secretive as you think. Not to me at least." 

Peter let out a sigh, he knew he was in too deep. He wasn't going to expose himself as Spiderman or anything. He hadn't lost enough blood to be delirious.

"Look, I know you can't tell me. I won't pry if you don't want me to, but. Can you at least trust me enough to seek help when you need it? Like a friend?" 

Your voice wavered a bit at the end, and Peter noticed. He finally stopped avoiding your eyes, and allowed himself the moment of respite in your concerned gaze.

Friend. It had been a while since Peter Parker had a friend. Like a real friend. Not ones that didn't remember him, that he watched through a screen move on without him.

A real friend that perceived his favorite things, like where he bought flowers from and what bodega he liked the most, what it was like to have to get his GED, the fact that he had terrible eating habits and slept very little, and what his other bad habits were (like leaving his clothes in the washer). 

Silence filled the air for more than a few moments until he finally spoke.

"Okay."

His one word phrase took everything in him. All his trust, his heartbreak and loses. He had to trust that having a friend, that Peter Parker, having a friend. Wouldn't hurt him again. 

And while the sting of you cleaning his wounds did hurt, he knew the friendship he started with you wouldn’t.

. *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄

It had been months now since that night.

Peter had continuously allowed himself to melt into your arms after late nights out. You'd upgraded from the laundry room to your apartment, which actually did not have asbestos because he had secretly tested your living spaces using EV. 

Not for him, but because he became genuinely concerned that your body was being exposed to that. His arachnid DNA could handle a little asbestos but he was certainly not exposing your regular human DNA to that. 

He would’ve moved out all your boxes in a single trip if that was the case, but anyways.

Your apartment became a refuge. The scent of your season appropriate candles that you insisted were a justifiable purchase because of "the vibes"(whatever that meant), and the warmth of just having a person to hangout with whenever your schedules allowed actually brought his blue life some warmth and joy.

The truth about him being Spiderman came out eventually and inevitably. 

“I’m Spiderman.” Peter mumbled, laying in your lap as you intently watched his favorite Star Wars movie, which you did willingly because he loved it so much and had grown comfortable enough to make references even when you didn’t understand them.

The confession fell from your lips rather quickly, “I know.”

“How?” His eyebrows furrowed together, he knew that he hadn’t exactly been careful. But he hid all the important things from you. He didn’t even let you into his apartment without having double checked if any quick giveaways needed to be put out of sight.

Your hands gently caressed his curls like his words hadn’t confirmed your biggest theory ever. “Only Spiderman would have such a wacked sleep schedule and come home bruised all the time.” 

“That was just a lucky guess.”

He turned to watch the screen and pretended like his pride wasn’t at least a little bruised after all that effort he put into hiding away his second life. At the same time, he felt a warmth blooming in his chest that you waited to tell him until he told you first, and that you weren’t scared of what being with him might imply, but rather, were simply there for the tough times he got beaten down a little more than usual.

As he grew to love you deeper, he’d take you to do things he had grown used to doing alone, like buying flowers for Aunt May. 

You had picked purple irises because, “My red and your blue, and together it’s purple.Your Aunt May can have us both.”

He would forever remember your smile as you set the flowers at her headstone, and turned to give him a warm hug that he didn’t realize he had needed but you just knew to give him, like always. 

And later that day Peter would kiss your neck gently as you cuddled in your bed until it felt like you had both melted together.

In truth, all Peter felt was you.

Needless to say, Peter was glad your paths intersected. 

That his world wasn’t entirely blue but rather a mix of you and him, of purple.

[idkanymore-05]

Yall I just rewatched Spider-Man: Brand New Day for the 4th time, this time on 4DX definitely have to say I enjoyed this experience alot more and will be working on part 2 of my story very soon. Its a work in progress but the movie has inspired me to keep writing along with reading some bombass fanfics/writers recently. So please expect more from me very soon. Thank you to everyone who has already read part 1 to I'll always be mine to protect, something is better than nothing so thanks again. Part 2 hopefully will be out later next week, fingers crossed, coochie lips crossed. Byeee

[jupiter-letters]

Peter Parker dating a Kryptonian!Reader would include:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: None! A/N: Let's pretend DC and Marvel are in the same universe somehow, bare with me y'all lolll. This is gonna be a long one since I can't stop thinking about this combo. It feels good to be writing again. now playing: Intimidated -KAYTRANADA(feat. H.E.R.)

When Peter meets you as Spider-Man he's blown away by how fast you shoot through the air and the fact you can blast lasers from your eyes. He's firing off a million questions everytime you two see each other. "How fast can you fly? What's the fastest you've flown? Can you see through clothes or just bodies, what about walls? Wait.. can you see my face??" That last question makes him nervous but you assure him you can't.

Later down the line you trust each other enough to share your secret identities, he is hesitant not because he doesn't trust you but he's worried you'll be disappointed with how he looks. Of course you're not and he feels ten feet tall when you tell him he's pretty cute. He swings home absolutely GASSED UP.

Eventually he does get the courage to tell you about his crush on you but it's at the worst possible time. You're both trapped underground and he turns to you and says "Listen we might die down here so I wanted to...to tell you I like you, like I really like you. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you earlier." He takes off his mask and everything it's a whole moment. You look at him confused and say "Peter I can spin really fast and drill us a way out." and he's just like "Oh.😀"

After that you ask him if he'd like to go on a date and the rest is history.

Power couple af. You both go out on patrol with each other and city has never been safer. Criminals see Peter show up and are like ok we can handle Spider-Man there's 7 of us. Then you land next him and they collectively go, "Oh shit..."

If Peter gets hit a little too hard he likes to be funny and say "I'm gonna tell my girlfriend you hurt me and she's gonna kick your ass." They look at him so confused before they get their lights punched out by you.

He wants to swing you around the city but he knows flying is way cooler. You both go on flights through the city and other places from time to time. Peter has no shame about it either, he loves being in your arms and being close to you. 🖤

Not everyone gets the chance to have a girlfriend from space, except Peter Parker. He fights for his life not to brag about the fact you're from Krypton. There's a lot of things about you that are worth bragging about but, he can barely keep it in. If he ever comes close to saying it you grab him like this:

He loooooves introducing you to Earth stuff you haven't seen or tried before. Ice cream, arcades, and concerts are all potential dates for him to plan. He gets so excited when you ask where or what something is, he loves telling you everything about it. He's just yapping about museums and you're not even listening, you're just admiring his expressions.

Peter loves to not so subtly try to get you to use your powers in a non combat situation, a lot. "Babe my drink is kinda warm...do you think you could, I don't know...cool it down?🥺" "Baby could you weld these two pieces together with your...heat vision?" and his soldering tool is like 3 ft away. "Sweetie could you change that light bulb, it's a little to high for me." "Peter, you can literally climb walls." "Please?🥺" You always end up doing it anyway.

When you cuddle you love to listen to his heartbeat, even when you're apart you listen for it, miles, states and countries away. When you told him this he got embarrased. "That means you can hear everytime I like, fart or use the bathroom or...you know other stuff." he says sheepishly. "Peter is fine I know when to stop listening, that stuff doesn't bother me." you say. He sighs in relief but still tries to pee really quietly when you're around.

He's always there to comfort you when you feel homesick, it hurts him so deeply that he can't fix it for you. He knows getting you to talk about your memories back home helped. The look on your face while you lay on his chest describing things from your childhood makes him so soft. He'll even ask questions about Kryptonian culture which makes you light up.

He worries about you regardless of you being indestructible, not just your physical well being but emotional too. He understands the toll it takes being a hero and on some level the last of your kind. He's so deeply empathetic about it, that's why he tries to make you feel at home as much as possible.

He likes to sun bathe with you after a big battle, you look so beautiful in the sun light. You do make sure he has sunscreen on cause you love being out there for a while. Otherwise he'll end up as red as his suit.

Overall he's just completely wonderstruck over you, not just cause you're from another world but you're such a kind and powerful person. He knows if he's ever in trouble you'll be there in seconds.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.