my mind is whirring from the concept. like uhhh yes please, I love these two immensely 🥰 and am so down to imagine both of them having a crush on reader
*let me know if you'd like to be tagged by for when I eventually start posting my fic for this concept
I'm planning for it to be a mini series, and write two alt endings for each of them.
it's still in my dot points in a doc phase but I'm fleshing the story out and hopefully have the first part posted sometime soonish - whenever that is
I'm picturing Dennis as your room mate, I'm imagining your friend from NY, Peter Parker comes to stay over the summer while he does an internship or smth in Pittsburgh ...both Dennis and Peter have feelings for the reader, it's just a matter of who's going to confess first, and most importantly which of them do you like?...
I'm imagining Dennis learning that your friend Peter is the infamous Spider Man ... and Dennis can't help but think that the spider's a real menace for his love life lol. This reveal may or may not involve Peter crashing into the apartment well after midnight stumbling through the bathroom trying to find a first aid kit…
I'm imagining the pining from both ends. the confusion on yours.
and Santos advocating for her avocado buddy to confess to you -- heavily trying to actively push you both together.
and yes. I am picturing the reader is part of the night shift crew (Shen and Parker have taken you under their wing, for better or worse, you are indoctrinated into the night)
*Also let me know if there’s anything particular you’d like to see within the story, I’m open to ideas 💕
summary : “You know, you remind me of her,” he says suddenly.
Your eyes widen at this, amused yet somewhat nervous.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I mean, not like that you have super powers or anything, but in the sense that she stands up for the little guys, which is what I like most about her. She’s also really cool.”
“So you think I’m really cool?” you ask, a smirk growing as you raise a brow.
“Without a doubt,” he answers with no hesitation.
In which you're The Amazing Spider-Woman, and you notice Peter Parker's a big fan.
warnings: None. Pure fluff and soft, nerdy Peter ♡
notes: Another fic that's been collecting dust in my drafts. Always wondered about the dynamic between Spider-Woman reader and Peter.
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The day that spider at Oscorp bit you, your whole life took a 180.
You practically became a superhero overnight, going from someone who walked the streets terrified of what was lurking around the corner, to kicking the ass of whatever evil was waiting to stir up trouble. You protected the people of New York, taking on the title of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman, and you loved every second of it.
One thing you didn’t love, however, was how it continuously got in the way of your everyday life. You struggled to balance both your secret persona and your life as an average high school student.
Especially since your high school life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“Move it, loser.”
You’re immediately shoved into your locker roughly, forcibly snapped out of your thoughts.
Mary Jane Watson is walking away, heels clicking as she disappears into the crowd of people in the hallway.
You glare at her, eyes shooting daggers at the back of her head, before you’re approached by a tall blonde.
“Would it be misogynistic of me to call MJ a bitch?” Gwen asks, eyes watching her as well.
“I dunno’, but at least you’d be right,” you say, rolling your eyes before turning to open your locker.
Gwen laughs lightly, moving so she’s now leaning against the locker next to yours, blue eyes watching you intently.
“Mhm, so, I don’t know if you noticed, but a certain someone is wearing a Spider-Woman shirt today…” she says, and your head turns to see a smirk on her face.
“Flash? Again? Geez, that’s the third time this week. That guy needs to chill with the fan fever” you groan, grimacing.
She laughs, shaking her head.
“Nope, try again. This time, think of someone you’re not completely repulsed by. Maybe a cute photographer with glasses and big brown eyes you’re constantly swooning over,” Gwen teases.
Your eyes widen.
“Peter?” you whisper, and she nods eagerly.
You’re silent for a moment, trying to calm the excitement in your chest, before closing your locker.
“For the record, I do not swoon over him,” you state.
“Oh no, you definitely swoon. It’s like swoon city over here whenever Peter’s brought up.”
You blush, looking away from her.
“Shut up.”
As if on cue, Peter Parker himself walks past you and, just as Gwen stated, is sporting Spider-Woman’s face on his t-shirt.
Peter Parker has been your crush since freshman year, when you spotted him skating down the hallway. A teacher had barked at him to stop, and when your eyes met as he picked up his board, he flashed you a small smile, and you were hooked.
“Hey, try not to make it so obvious that you’re gawking at him, ok?” Gwen interrupts with a wave of her hand over your face, bringing you back to the present. “I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to him.”
“Because, Gwendolyn, not all of us possess the self-confidence and social skills that you do. I mean, what do I even tell him? Hey, nice Spider-Woman shirt. Oh, by the way, that’s me,” you state sarcastically, walking down the hall to your next class, Gwen in tow.
“Honestly, that’s not bad. You know, aside from revealing your secret identity, but yeah, you know, just ask him about stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Yes,” she says in exasperation. “Come on, get a grip. This is Peter Parker we’re talking about. Not some jock boy who every girl at school is in love with.”
“Oh yeah, like Flash Thompson, who likes to shove chopsticks up his nose and act like a walrus in public. What a prize,” you state sarcastically with another roll of your eyes.
Truth was, you couldn’t stand Flash. You thought he was an asshole, a caricature of a high school bully from the 1950’s. It also didn’t help that he was constantly messing with Peter.
Which, during lunch, you caught him doing once again.
“Why are you always walking around with that camera of yours, Parker? You know it makes you look like a creep, right? I bet you take pictures of the girls during class so you can check them out later when you’re feeling lonely,” he says, voice loud and obnoxious as he high-fives one of his stupid basketball lackies.
Peter’s silent, ignoring him as he continues to fiddle with his camera.
Flash stands up from his spot at the lunch table, walking towards Peter and snatching his camera from him.
“Come on, Flash, knock it off,” Peter says, obviously annoyed as he tries to reach for it, but Flash moves it away.
“You want it? Come take it from me,” Flash boasts, tossing the camera from one hand to another.
You can see Peter visibly stiffen, concerned that Flash might drop it, and you feel rage begin to boil inside of you. Before you even know what you’re doing, you stand up from your seat.
“Leave him alone, Flash!” you yell from across the courtyard.
All eyes snap towards you, and your face immediately flushes.
Flash’s attention is now fully on you.
“Well, if it isn’t the other village freak. You know, you could be really hot if you weren’t so fucking uptight,” he says, camera still in hand.
You feel Peter’s eyes on you, but you don’t care about anything else. The anger in you grows as Flash continues to speak.
“I mean, we get it. You think you’re so beyond us, right? ‘Too cool’ to care. But guess what, you’re stuck in this shit hole just like the rest of us. So how about you give us a little smile every once in a while, huh? Come on, sweetheart, smile for me.”
He’s smirking at this point, knowing he’s hit a nerve.
You don’t even realize that you’re now walking, eyes locked on him.
“Put the camera down,” you say, and your tone is so cold that it surprises even you.
“Give me a smile, and I’ll put the camera down. Come on, I know you can do it. You smile all the time at Penis Parker over here. What, you’re only into dorks? Is that it?” He asks, and before he even registers it, you’re right in front of his face.
You quickly snatch the camera from him, tearing it from his grasp effortlessly. Just as he’s about to say something about it, though, your fist collides with his face, and he’s forcibly sent flying backwards into a brick wall at the end of the courtyard.
It’s pure silence as everyone’s eyes land on the clearly injured Flash before turning towards you, mouths hanging open in shock.
You’re speechless, eyes wide as you realize what you’ve done. You looked down at your fist, and although it was shaking, it was perfectly fine despite hitting someone who was twice your size square in the face.
You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the whispers and stares from everyone around you. You look at Peter, whose eyes are as wide as saucers, and you hand him his camera.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” you say and run off, wanting nothing more than to get away from this situation you’ve put yourself in.
You head inside the building and into the hallway, back sliding down a row of lockers as you sink down, face hidden between your knees.
Great, now the whole school knows you have the strength of The Incredible Hulk.
Another reason for them to think of you as some kind of freak.
You wish you were more discreet, better at keeping your emotions at bay. But you were a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.
Adolescence man. That shit is tough.
You feel someone approaching you, but you refuse to lift your head up, already assuming it must have been your best friend checking in on you.
“Gwen, please. Let me wallow in self-pity for at least two more seconds.”
“Oh no, please, don’t stop on my account. I understand how necessary it is to make time for wallowing. Feel free to carry on.”
You freeze.
The voice is deep and masculine and most definitely not Gwen’s.
You lift your head slightly so only your eyes are visible as you take in the appearance of Peter Parker in front of you.
You immediately sit up properly now, passing a hand through your hair as you clear your throat.
“S-sorry, I thought you were… umm,” you shake your head, obviously flustered. “Listen, about what happened back there…”
Peter offers you a soft smile, one that instantly calms you down.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I just wanted to say thanks for standing up to Flash like that. You didn’t have to, but it’s nice to know that someone has my back,” he says, and you can see the blush forming in his cheeks.
It was enough to make your face flush as well.
“Oh. No problem. Flash is an assshole. He’s just jealous ‘cause you have an actual future ahead of you.”
His eyes light up at that, and he lets out a light chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“T-thanks.”
You're both quiet after that, your heart hammering in your chest as your mind goes back to the event that transpired just minutes before. You’re sure he must be wondering why you were able to punch the living shit out of Flash, and you didn't want him to start making up conclusions, so you take matters into your own hands and come up with a plausible excuse.
“I drum,” you say suddenly.
He tilts his head, confusion laced on his face.
“Oh?”
You rub your shoulder, the awkwardness beginning to settle as you continue to speak.
“Y-yeah, I do. And that’s why I’m so strong, cause I…I use my hands….a lot…” You visibly cringe, unable to disguise your humiliation.
Oh yeah, a very plausible excuse.
He chuckles, nodding.
“Yeah, I've seen your drumsticks peeking out from your backpack before. That’s really cool. Actually, uh, there’s this local band that’s going to play tonight at the coffee shop around the corner. And I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go? Like… together?”
Your eyes widen with every word, completely in disbelief.
Was Peter Parker actually asking you out?
“Uh,” you get up, realizing that you had still been on the floor throughout the entire conversation, dusting your pants off.
“Y-yeah, I’d like that.”
He smiles.
“Cool. Can I pick you up?”
“Yeah, of course, let me just…” You feel around in your back pocket for a Sharpie, having developed a habit of carrying one around.
Sharpies make an excellent last-minute substitute for nail polish.
You take his hand in yours and scribble down your address, not even noticing the light blush in his cheeks at the feel of your hand in his.
“There. Try not to smudge that,” you tease.
“Trust me, I’ll guard this with my life,” he says with another chuckle.
Your eyes then settle on his Spider-Woman shirt.
You smirk.
“Nice shirt.”
He looks down at it, almost as if he forgot he was wearing it in the first place.
“Oh, thanks.”
“You a fan?”
“Yeah. She uh…she actually saved my Uncle Ben,” he says, tone shifting to something more serious.
You swallow, taken aback.
“R-really?”
“Yeah. There was a robber, and Ben had stopped him. He had a gun and was about to fire at him, but thankfully Spider-Woman webbed the gun out of his hand, and he didn’t get the chance to. I owe her a lot. All I have are my Aunt and Uncle, and I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost him that night,” he says, eyes drifting to his shoes.
You feel emotional at his confession, processing his words in silence.
You saved his Uncle Ben.
You understood that your job was to save people, but you never really thought hard about what would happen if you didn’t. What would happen if you weren’t there to stop criminals like that robber that night.
That’s why your job as Spider-Woman was so important. That’s why you couldn’t let anything get in the way of that.
You place a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m so glad he’s still here, Pete,” you offer him a smile.
He looks up at you and returns it.
“Yeah, me too.”
You both remain like that for a moment, you internally swooning over his big brown eyes that you adored so much.
Shoot.
Maybe Gwen was right….
“You know, you remind me of her,” he says suddenly.
Your eyes widen at this, amused yet somewhat nervous.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I mean, not like that you have super powers or anything, but in the sense that she stands up for the little guys, which is what I like most about her. She’s also really cool.”
“So you think I’m really cool?” you ask, a smirk growing as you raise a brow.
“Without a doubt,” he answers with no hesitation.
The conversation ends with both of you confirming your plans for the night before walking away in your respective directions.
If you had looked back, though, you would have seen the happy little skip Peter gave on his way down the hall.
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You can’t believe it.
You can’t believe you missed your date with Peter, all because a stupid metal rhino had to appear out of nowhere and fuck shit up.
Now your night was ruined because you had to ditch Peter without even being able to warn him about it. You were sure he hated you. He probably thought you had stood him up on purpose.
The thought of him waiting for you ate you up.
He deserved better.
And the worst part was that you were pretty sure you had broken something because the pain in your leg was unbearable. You needed to get home and try to patch yourself up.
Once you make it to your apartment building, you crawl up all the way to your floor before climbing through the window and entering your bedroom. Once inside, you shoot a web at the window, slide it down, and crawl on the ceiling towards the connecting bathroom. Once you reach it, you jump down and grab the first aid kit that was stowed away under the sink and enter your bedroom again.
Upon doing so, you spot Peter Parker seated on a bean bag chair on the other side of your room, watching you in complete shock.
Oh no…
No no no no no..
“Holy shit, you’re….!”
You immediately shoot a web at his mouth, effectively shutting him up.
“What are you doing here?!” you shout at him, face hot and anxiety settling in your chest.
He mumbled something against the webbing over his mouth, and you sigh as you rip it away.
“Your mom… she…she let me in. I was just worried cause you weren’t at the concert and…holy shit, you’re Spider-Woman!” he exclaims, eyes as wide and tone a mix of nerves and disbelief.
“Yes, but no one can know, ok? Not even my mom knows, so please keep your voice down,” you plead.
Peter nods his head rapidly. “I-of course. I wouldn’t tell a soul. I just…wow. That’s incredible. I mean, you’re incredible. And you…y-you saved my Uncle Ben.” His eyes soften at the realization, staring at you with so much gratitude that it makes your chest flutter. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for that, and now I can. Thank you,” he says, tone earnest and expression soft.
You swallow, the anxiety of his finding you out fading. You offer him a small smile, allowing yourself to relax.
Peter Parker is a good guy. He wouldn’t be running to The Daily Bugle with your secret. You’re sure of that.
A sudden pain shoots through your leg, reminding you of its injury, and you hiss. Peter’s brows furrowed in worry, but when his eyes drift down to your leg, he realizes what it is.
“Shit. Let me help you clean that up. My Aunt May’s a nurse, and she taught me a few things,” he says, reaching over for the first aid kit in your hands.
“A-are you sure? I can do it myself. I’ve been doing it for a while now.”
Your confession pains Peter, the thought of you cleaning your wounds up all alone, beaten and bloody. The loneliness that came with such a secret sounded awfully sad.
So he smiles warmly at you, reassuring you that he wants to help.
He owed you at least that.
“Umm..I’m going to need you to take your suit…off,” he states, cheeks blushing.
Your face flushes as well, clearing your throat as you nod.
“Y-yeah. Of course. Let me just…” and you walked towards your dresser and grabbed an oversized shirt to change into.
Peter turns around, giving you the privacy to change, but his heart is hammering so hard in his chest that he’s sure you can hear it.
A few minutes later, you’re lying on your bed, leg outstretched as Peter works diligently on your wound.
“You’re really good at this,” you say, and then hiss immediately after.
Turns out, your wound was bad enough that you needed stitches. Something Peter was thankfully skilled at.
He winced, looking up at you apologetically.
“Sorry. And Aunt May is a great teacher. She thinks it’s important to learn as many skills as you can ‘cause you never know when you’ll need them.”
“Like right now. Helping the spider menace not bleed out on her bedroom floor,” you state, and Peter chuckles, shaking his head.
“You’re not a menace.”
“Oh yeah? Tell that to The Bugle. Or the NYPD,” you say with a scoff.
“The Daily Bugle is a crock of shit. And the NYPD is obviously intimidated that you can do their job better.”
You snort at that, and Peter looks up at you, smile soft once again.
“You are a hero. Ok? And I know the rest of the city agrees. You’re the best thing to happen to us, and on behalf of everyone, I want to thank you for putting in the time and work to help make this city a safer place. You don’t owe anyone anything, and yet here you are doing everything you possibly can for us,” he says, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst from the genuine sincerity in his voice and the look of utter adoration he’s directing towards you.
“You know, there’s a saying my Uncle Ben always says. ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ I never really understood it much, but now, I get it. And I know he’d think you’re the perfect example of that.”
You can’t help it. You really can’t. With the way he’s looking at you, and the awe in his voice and the way his hands move gently as he tends to you, it was inevitable.
You lean towards Peter, breath mingling with his. You close your eyes, allowing your heightened senses to read him for you. The quick beating of his chest, his shallow breaths, the unmistakable wanting inside of him.
“Can I kiss you?” you whisper, eyes gazing at him through your lashes.
Peter feels like he’s dreaming, his throat running dry at the way you look at him all pretty. “Please,” he breathes out, hands coming up to cup your jaw, leaning into you.
The kiss is soft and sweet, and you immediately feel yourself melt. His lips move in perfect rhythm with yours, and you start to think that he was made for you. You couldn’t help but smile into it until Peter pulled away.
“Listen, I just need you to know that this has nothing to do with you being Spider-Woman. Don’t get me wrong, that’s the coolest secret on the planet, but…I’ve had a crush on the girl who carries drumsticks in her backpack for the longest time now,” he clarifies, resting his forehead against yours.
Your face is absolutely flushed, but a genuine smile graces your features.
“You have such a way with words, Parker. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” you state, and he meets your gaze with a smirk.
“Probably. But I have a feeling you like it.”
You closed your eyes, leaning close to him as you chuckled under your breath, nodding before his lips were back over yours.
oh my fucking god i remembered my peter parker/spider-man hyperfixation so im fucking back omggg
this is all adult peter btw like im not a fucking pedo
peter who comes back from a bad patrol and just flops straight on top of you bcus you waited for him and he just needs your touch. he craves the soft embrace of his lover. and it starts of innocent enough, just you carding your fingers through his hair and whispering sweet nothings to him and he buries his face in your chest, his weight bracketed by your hips, your thighs pressed against his side
and then it starts heating up. maybe his hands will slid under your shirt making your back arch a little, maybe youll tug a little too hard against his hair coaxing a small whine out of him and the youll both look at each other before peter surges up to kiss you, his elbows bracketing your head as he cages you in.
your hips will buck up against his and he’ll chuckle against your mouth telling you to be patient, his voice all husky OH FUCK ME PLEASEEEEE and then you give him a stern look and he just melts and goes back to kissing you so you stop looking so mad at him. and maybe he rolls so he can tug you on top of him, his fingers digging into your hips but still oh so careful of his strength and he lets you take control
and he completely loses it under you as you take your sweet time teasing him, his head tipped back, his dick straining against his boxers, almost painfully hard because you refuse to touch him. and every time he begs you to touch him you just pout and tell him to be patient. so when you finally touch him he practically starts crying from relief and fucks your mouth while you choke on him and have to push him down so you can ride him until youre both whimpering for release
★ you and peter are both superheroes in the city, one morning, you wake up in each other’s bodies, and have to figure out how to swap back.
★ word count: 1,580
★ my first marvel fic (: i love marvel a lot as well, and had so much fun writing this. i've been on a huge marvel rewatch lately so i had to write a fic on it.
you wake up in the morning, sitting up and stretching. your limbs feel sore. you're not quite sure why, since it's been about a week since you've last used your powers.
you stand up, immediately noticing the room you're in is not yours. you look around, seeing a tv, a shelf with some books and knick-knacks. it's a studio apartment, you see the kitchen, and a couch.
which has spider-man's suit slung over it.
you rush to the bathroom, looking into the mirror. you're a tall, young man, brown hair, brown eyes. "woah!" you say, before looking down at your hands and body. "i've never woken up with my powers active..."
your mutant gene gave you shapeshifting abilities, but this hasn't happened before, you also haven't teleported before. you don't think you're able to do that.
"what is going on.." you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. you close your eyes and focus, trying to switch back.
it doesn't work.
you don't feel a thing, any hint of your power, nothing. you open your eyes, letting out a groan. your eyes go wide at your voice. "oh i sound weird!" you shriek.
you look around the apartment, deciding to look for a phone, or a wallet, which you spot on the kitchen counter. you pick it up and open it, slipping his id out.
"peter parker" you say, reading it aloud. his picture looks recent. you look at the issue date, january of 2025. his eyes look tired.
you look back at the suit thrown over the couch. "he's too young to be so tired.." you whisper to yourself. you're the same age, considering you were both blipped.
you understand how hard it is, being forced to carry so much at such a young age.
you decide to go look for his phone, going back over to his bed, you spot his phone thrown across to the other side. you reach out for it.
his lockscreen is a picture of the sky, from a rooftop. luckily, he has face recognition on, and his phone unlocks. his wallpaper is of him with his spiderman mask pushed halfway, his mouth is hanging open in a silly smile, and he's upside down.
he seems like he still has fun with it, at least.
you decide to go to his contacts. maybe there's a superhero he knows that could help.
there's only a few contacts.
aunt may
happy hogan
mr. stark
ned
that's it. you pull up his call log, there's only a couple calls a month, none between his contacts.
you go to his messages app, pretty much empty. none with any of his contacts.
it's like peter parker is a ghost.
you sigh, setting his phone down. you run a hair through your hair, surpised at how short it is. you sigh, throwing yourself back onto his bed. "wait a second.. if i'm in his body, he must be in mine.." you whisper to yourself, and immediately sit up.
you reach for his phone, unlocking it and opening up the keypad, you dial up your number. it rings a few times, before you hear your voice on the other end. "hello???"
"great, hi, uh, i really hope you recognize this voice, because i'm the person that i am calling right now, oh god that makes zero sense.." you ramble off, and your voice cuts in. "oh my god no that is my voice! you have my voice! why do you have my voice? why is my voice so weird?"
"look, i think we swapped bodies, but i have no clue why, how soon can you get back to your apartment?" you say, and you hear the voice come back through "i'll be there soon." and the call cuts out.
you look over at his suit, and decide you want to try it on.
you are spider-man, after all.
you quickly shimmy your body into it, realizing how hard it is to squeeze it over his muscles. once you get it on, you look at the webshooters on the wrists. "hmm.." you say, flicking your wrist, nothing happens. you try pressing on the web shooter, nothing.
you press your fingers into your palm, and flick, a web shooting just as the door opens. it hits peter, and you hear a yelp. you look up immediately, seeing a web sprayed across the chest. "at least they're mine.." you say, and peter shakes his head at you.
"well, hi, uh, i guess we're past an introduction, since we are inside each other. oh no." he stumbles off at the end, and you laugh. "i think we both messed that up." now you hear peter laugh.
"well, uh, how did we get like this?" peter asks, and you shrug. "i don't really know, i uh, know you're spider-man obviously, and i saw your phone and know you don't talk to anybody." you start, gauging a facial expression, which is blank.
"i have powers, i can shapeshift, incase you didn't figure that out yet. i've never done it in my sleep before though. i'm not sure how it happened. i don't have my powers anymore, since i'm you." you explain, he just looks at you.
"so like, you can turn into anybody?" he finally asks. you stare at him. "that's the first thing you say?" his eyes go wide. "well, just like. if i could do that, i would totally turn into darth vader.." he rambles on, and you shake your head.
"it can only be real people, usually only people i've seen before. and you can do it, you are me right now. you can probably shapeshift to look like yourself. just concentrate on wanting to physically become me, well you, but as me, well, me as you." you mumble the end, and peter shakes his head.
"okay, focus." you say, and he closes his eyes, you see him slowly start to shift into himself, when he finally gets there, he opens his eyes, and you clap."
"wonderful, you look like you." you say, and he laughs.
"i still sound weird.." he says, and you sigh. "i can't have it all. i would be too powerful.." you joke, and he laughs again, sending him back into your human form.
"woah! it feels weird when you aren't expecting it." he says, and you nod. "yeah, but you get used to it.. i had to quickly, people can't know about it.."
he looks up at you, his facial expression sad. "do you have anybody?" he asks, and you shake your head at him.
"no.. when you're like this, can't afford to." you say simply. you accepted that fact awhile ago, ever since you lost your family, and your mutant gene activated shortly after.
"yeah, i, uh, i get that. people like us don't ever get to keep those things when we do have them.." he whispers back, and you look him in the eyes.
he really looks like you, behind those eyes, he's like you. you wish more than anything he wasn't. "yeah.. anyways, uh, i'm not sure how to get us back." you say, and he contemplates.
"i think you were in my dream last night, maybe you accidentically shifted and we woke up swapped?" he finally says, and you stare at him. "we don't know each other, how would that be possible?" you say, and he throws his arms in the air.
"i have no clue, i just think maybe if we do the same thing, maybe we will go back." he says, and you finally nod. "okay, so what, we nap?" you say, and he nods. "yes, i think that should work. but i think we need to fall asleep staring at each other, i have sleeping pills we can take to ensure we fall asleep around the same time."
he walks over to grab the sleeping pills, and you go over to lay on one side of his bed. he walks over with a glass of water, and the pills. the two of you take them down quickly, and lay down, staring at each other.
"well, hopefully i see you later, in your own body.." peter says, and you nod. "preferably, good night parker."
you quickly feel the tiredless taking over you, and the last thing you see is peter staring back at you, eyed half opened.
when you wake up the next morning, you notice you are on the other side of the bed, and back in your body. you sigh of relief, and go to move, but you feel weight over you.
you look down, seeing an arm over your stomach, and a head on your chest. your eyes go wide. you feel him stir gently, and his eyes open. he quickly realizes where he's at, and moves backwards. "woah, uh, sorry!" he says nervously, and you laugh.
"we're back in our bodies." you say, and he nods. "thankfully." you nod. "well, i, uh, thanks. i guess i should get back home." you say, and he looks at you. "oh, yeah, yeah.. or maybe you could stay..?" he asks hesitantly, your eyes shoot up to his.
"maybe i could stay?" you repeat. he peter shrugs his shoulders. "yeah, like i'm curious to learn more about your powers, and maybe show you how mine work, since you totally butchered that web shooter when you tried."
"i think that could be cool." you finally say, and he smiles.
Plot :After the world forgets Peter Parker, the only person who still remembers him is the girl he's slowly falling in love with
Warnings: Smut and slightly emotional cheating
The city had forgotten Peter Parker with terrifying perfection.
Every database, every yearbook, every text message, every photograph that once proved he had existed as anything more than Spider-Man had become nothing but empty space, as if the universe itself had carefully stitched over the wound his name had left behind.
MJ smiled politely when Spider-Man stopped by.
Ned laughed with him like he was meeting him for the first time.
Happy remembered Aunt May, but the nephew who had stood beside her through years of heartbreak had dissolved into nothing more than an impossible blank spot in his memories.
Peter had prepared himself for that.
He had accepted it.
That was the price.
What he hadn't prepared for...
...was someone whispering his name behind him.
"Peter."
The voice stopped him so suddenly that the grocery bag hanging from his wrist slipped from his fingers, oranges rolling across the cracked sidewalk while pedestrians stepped around them without a second glance.
His breathing caught in his throat before he slowly turned around.
You stood several feet away beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, dressed in an oversized hoodie with your mask tucked loosely into your jacket pocket, your expression caught somewhere between relief and disbelief.
"You..." Peter breathed, staring as though he had seen a ghost.
Your eyes watered almost instantly.
"There you are."
Those three words hit harder than any punch Peter had ever taken from the Green Goblin.
He stared at you.
"You...remember me?"
You frowned.
"Peter...what kind of question is that?"
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
"You remember...Peter Parker?"
"Obviously."
Your confusion slowly twisted into concern as you crossed the street toward him, your footsteps quickening the closer you got.
"I've been looking for you for weeks."
Peter could barely hear you over the roaring in his ears.
"No..."
His voice cracked.
"No...that's impossible."
Your brows furrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
"The spell."
He almost laughed because the words sounded ridiculous out loud.
"The spell erased me."
You blinked.
"...No."
Peter shook his head desperately.
"It erased everyone's memories."
You stared at him silently.
Then something strange happened.
You reached toward his face.
Peter stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, the cold evening breeze tugging at the sleeves of his faded jacket while people streamed around the two of you as if this life-changing moment was nothing more than another Tuesday night in Queens.
His brown eyes searched your face with desperate intensity, looking for even the smallest sign that you were joking, mistaken, or confusing him with someone else.
He found none.
You looked at him exactly the way you always had.
Like he was Peter.
Not Spider-Man.
Not a stranger.
Just...Peter.
"...You really remember me," he whispered again, the words sounding fragile enough to break apart before they even reached you.
You frowned, confused by the tears shining in his eyes.
"I keep saying yes."
Peter laughed weakly, quickly wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie before you could comment on it.
"Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
He nodded absentmindedly, still trying to process the impossible reality standing in front of him.
For weeks he had spoken to people who looked directly through Peter Parker as though he'd never existed.
Now someone was looking at him like nothing had changed.
It almost hurt more.
"So..." you said softly, glancing down at the grocery bag he'd nearly dropped. "You gonna leave your groceries in the middle of the street?"
Peter blinked before hurriedly crouching down to collect the runaway oranges that had rolled beneath a nearby bench.
"Oh."
He gave an awkward laugh.
"Right."
You knelt beside him, reaching underneath the bench to retrieve the last orange before handing it to him with a small smile.
"There."
"Thanks."
Your fingers brushed for barely a second.
Peter quickly looked away.
"So..." he cleared his throat. "Where were you headed?"
"My house."
He nodded.
"...Can I walk you home?"
The question came out almost automatically.
Old habit.
Back when the world still made sense, Peter had insisted on walking you home whenever patrol ended late, claiming Queens was safer if two people walked together.
You smiled.
"I'd like that."
The streets were quieter now.
Storefronts reflected warm yellow lights onto the damp pavement while the smell of fresh pizza drifted from the little family-owned restaurant on the corner.
Cars rolled by every few minutes.
Somewhere in the distance, a subway train rumbled beneath the city.
Neither of you spoke for nearly a minute.
Not because it was awkward.
Because neither of you knew where to begin.
Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, stealing nervous glances at you every few seconds before quickly looking away whenever you almost caught him.
"You keep staring," you teased.
His cheeks immediately turned pink.
"I wasn't."
"You literally are."
"I was...thinking."
"You think with your eyes?"
"...Sometimes."
You laughed.
The familiar sound settled something inside Peter's chest that had been painfully tight ever since Doctor Strange's spell.
God...
He had missed hearing someone laugh like that.
"So..." you said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Where have you been hiding?"
Peter hesitated.
"Just...around."
"You disappeared."
"I know."
"I went to your apartment."
His steps slowed.
"You...did?"
"The landlord said someone moved out."
Peter swallowed hard.
"I had to."
"I even checked the coffee shop you liked."
"You remembered that?"
You looked at him like he'd asked whether the sky was blue.
"Peter, I remember everything."
His chest tightened again.
Every memory.
Movie nights.
Studying together.
Inside jokes.
Walking through Central Park in the middle of winter with hot chocolate because neither of you wanted to admit your hands were freezing.
Everything.
The universe had stolen those memories from everyone else.
But somehow...
Not from you.
"You know," you said, nudging his shoulder gently, "you're acting really weird."
Peter laughed under his breath.
"I've been told that before."
"No."
You smiled.
"This is different."
He looked down at the sidewalk.
"...A lot's happened."
The warm glow of the porch light spilled across the front steps, painting soft golden shadows over the quiet neighborhood while crickets chirped somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed hedges.
Peter stood awkwardly at the bottom of your steps, one hand gripping the worn strap of his backpack while the other stayed buried in his jacket pocket, his eyes lingering on your front door as though he already knew he should say goodbye.
Instead, neither of you moved.
"So..." he said with an awkward smile, rocking back on his heels. "I guess I'll—"
"Do you want to come in?"
The words left your mouth before you could overthink them.
Peter blinked.
"What?"
"You've been standing out here for like... five minutes."
A quiet laugh escaped you as you folded your arms across your chest.
"You obviously don't want to leave yet."
His cheeks immediately flushed a bright pink.
"I mean..."
"You don't have to."
"No, I just—"
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you.
"I don't want to intrude."
"You wouldn't."
"You sure?"
You nodded without hesitation.
"My parents are working late."
Peter looked at the house again.
"I don't really want to be a bother."
"You've never been a bother, Peter."
The sincerity in your voice made his shoulders relax ever so slightly.
"...Okay."
A smile spread across your face.
"Okay."
He should move.
He knew he should.
Instead, he found himself leaning in almost without thinking.
You met him halfway.
Your lips brushed together in a hesitant, feather-light kiss that lasted only a moment before both of you instinctively pulled back, eyes wide with surprise.
Neither of you spoke.
Peter's heart hammered against his ribs.
Then, as quickly as the warmth of the kiss had settled over him...
Another memory surfaced.
MJ.
Standing in the coffee shop.
The cut on her forehead.
His promise to tell her everything.
The moment he looked at the bandage, realized she was smiling without him, and chose to walk away.
Now he cant walk away. Not from her at least.
You clung to peters broad shoulders, legs wrapped securely around his body as he help you with effortless strength.
he thought it wouldn't escalate but the tension between you two had built far to quickly until clothes were scattered and you were on his lap in an instant. your brown skin basking in the sunlight.
He kissed your throat as you head fell back. you felt him bend to lay you against the couch; when he straightened, his arms tightened around you. hands and lips frantic as they fetched up. you arched backward, your hands gripping the couch’s edge, your body curving into peters in a way that made him inhale sharply.
His hands shaped the curves of you, sweeping from your hips to your waist, rising to cup your breasts. you gasped, breathing into the new sensation, wanting his hands on you.
With your nipple in his mouth, his right hand gripping your left buttock, he raised your leg you help lifted a leg to welcome him as he slid into you. For the first moment, he stayed still, while you felt and stared at each other. He started to move slowly, He lay on you, while you wrapped your legs around him. He was amazingly different.
his left thumb caressing your clit as he settled into a thrusting rhythm, your racking orgasm was a pleasant surprise.
As you pulled his hand from your clit because it was too intense, you realised that you both forgot to use a condom. You didn’t say anything just moaning and gripping his hair letting the cum drip deep inside you.
He collapsed on you running traces of patterns on your body before dozing off but you can’t help but think is this your life now?
summary: when your parents drop by unexpectedly it forces some truth to come out
Your parents don’t live in Massachusetts, so the probability of them popping up on you was low, but never impossible.
It was just your luck that they showed up to your dorm when you were halfway across campus, blissfully unaware and asleep in your boyfriend’s fraternity house, which they don’t even know about.
You absolutely hate sharing any information about relationships or even your grades with your parents, because they’ll tell your entire family, and there’s nothing you hate more than being the center of attention for two weeks.
You’re awoken to the constant vibrations of your phone, bonnet momentarily obscuring your vision. Pushing it out of the way so you can reach for it, your eyes widen as you see the multiple texts from your roommate, warning you that your parents are looking for you.
Thankfully, your roommate is a quick thinker and told them that you were in the midst of studying at the library for a test, and it would be best if they came back later, when you were out of the zone.
Sitting up so quickly, it startles your boyfriend, whose arm tightens around your waist instinctively, thinking that something went wrong with you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He sits up as he watches you scramble across the room.
Your words tumble out at lightning speed, not a first but still unexpected. “Baby, slow down.” Peter fully gets off the bed to grab your arms to stop what you’re doing. He’s seen you panic like this once, when you thought you were late for a midterm that didn’t start for another hour.
You’re forced to take a big breath, guided by Peter, before announcing the news. “My parents decided to surprise me and they’re here on campus.” The smile that grows on Peter’s face could mimic the Cheshire’s.
You’d never really talked to him about your family dynamic before; all he knew was that you had a big family, who absolutely adored you. Compared to his home life, it was absolute heaven.
“Baby this is great news!” He chuckles, pulling you closer to him. “I finally get to meet the two people who created the love of my life!” Peter kisses your cheek, which makes you think immediately of your neck. You push past him to the sink to observe how bad it is—wrong choice.
Dark red and purple splotches form a ring around your neck, and your concealer is all the way across campus in your room. You groan loudly as you regret coming over to Peter’s in the first place, but god forbid you be able to resist your otherworldly hot boyfriend.
Speaking of Peter, he’s lost in fantasy land, thinking of all the ways he’ll win over your parents. He has good grades, a good major, is good-looking, loves their daughter, what's not to like?
You catch him off guard when you’re grabbing your backpack and heading out the door without him. “Where are you going?” He shuts the door as you try to leave.
“I have to wash off the boyfriend scent before my parents come back, hide the hickies, and try to figure out which test I was supposedly studying for.” You kiss him goodbye before hurrying out the door, leaving behind a very confused Peter Parker.
By the time you get back to your room, your roommate has already helped you out. She’s picked out an outfit that’s weather-appropriate and hides the love bites on your neck.
What she didn’t expect was that Peter’s passion didn’t stop at just your neck, but rather your thighs and lower legs too. It was even a bruise on your ankle! “I don’t know whether to be scared or to be impressed?”
You roll your eyes, slipping on the denim. “Neither.” Thankfully, it’s quite chilly outside, which gives you enough legroom to wear a thin turtleneck paired with a long-sleeved sweater over it, hiding the bruises so well that you don’t have to worry about attempting with concealer. As soon as you’re done adjusting your outfit, there’s a knock on the door, and you’ve never moved faster.
Pretending as if you’ve been studying, you whip out a book from one of your English classes, paired with your laptop. You feign surprise when your parents file in, “Oh my god! What are you doing here?” You ask, sliding off your bed to hug them both.
Your parents, none the wiser, fuss over your outfit, planting kisses on your forehead and observing the room. “Oh we just decided to surprise you with a visit, kiddo.” Your dad answers your question.
“Your roommate told us you were studying for a test, so we didn’t want to bother you.” You nod at your mother’s insistence as you all walk the streets of the campus. The cool October air blew through campus, your outfit providing you with much-needed warmth. You three decide to stop at a restaurant you’ve come to love during your years on campus.
Your parents hadn’t asked about boys yet, only asking how your classes were going. The vibrations coming from your pocket alerted you to the fact that Peter had been trying to figure out what you guys had been doing for the past half an hour. You were so distracted that you’d been ignoring him. Whipping out your phone to text him, which alerts your mother. “Who’s that?”
“Who’s what?” Your response is immediate and defensive, as you shut your phone off. Her eyebrow raises before directing her gaze to your now face-down phone.
“The person you were texting?” You nod before picking the device back up. “Just my roommate, she was asking if I knew if we were out of paper towels.” The lie came out of your mouth so easily, a skill you honed ever since they dropped you off freshman year.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want your parents to know about Peter; it was that you didn’t want to be hounded and interrogated about him and your relationship for months on end by them and your extended family.
Telling your parents about Peter meant that you would also have to disclose the fact that the two of you were also having sex, unprotected sex at that, and that was a lecture you weren’t mentally prepared to have.
You listen to the two of them fill you in on some of the things that have been happening back home. One of your cousins was getting married, your grandmother’s house needed renovations, and the same old drama. Your server’s been gone at this point as well, and your food is just about done in the kitchen.
Anxiety and stress fill your body, and in an attempt to calm your nerves, you absent-mindedly play with your necklace. The necklace Peter got you for your six-month anniversary, the same necklace that features a rhinestone-studded p pendant.
It had been sitting underneath your shirt all this time, so it slipped your mind, and truly, it was something you did a lot unknowingly with all your necklaces. It was just your luck that it happened to be this one.
Unfortunately for you, your mother takes notice of this, slowly piecing everything together. The whole day, you’d been acting completely strange since they’d appeared at your door, and your roommate’s behavior was also weird.
Confirming her suspicions was your phone. You hadn’t been paying attention when a notification caused your phone screen to light up, allowing her to see your lockscreen, which was a picture of a Polaroid featuring two individuals hugging while staring at a sunset.
Your attention is drawn towards your mother when she calls your name. “Who’s the special guy?” She asks, and your heart drops to your ass. You’re a thousand percent sure you stop breathing for a second, as your brain processes the question.
“W-what do you mean mom?” Anxiety on ten, with no doubt. You can practically hear your heartbeat as your dad now begins staring at you. “The man who gave you that necklace.”
There was no way to lie about it. It was a known fact in your family that there was nothing you hated more than initial-themed jewelry, so the initial had to belong to someone else.
It doesn’t help your case that Peter can’t read the room and calls you, showing the whole table a picture of you two kissing by the beach. “That would be her boyfriend I’m assuming.” Your father answers for you.
You’re stuck, unable to say anything in response. Your parents don’t say anything either, instead waiting for you to answer the insistent call. “Hi Peter.” Voice flows out soft and quiet, and a little shaky. Peter knows you so well that he’s able to tell something’s wrong. “Are you okay do you need me to come get you?”
Goddamn him, he’s sweet. “No, I’m just at lunch with my parents, um but I’ll text you when we’re on our way back to the dorm.” You can feel your parents’ glare on you as the waiter drops off your food. You’re waiting on the inevitable, the burning questions about Peter, who is he, what’s his major, how’d you meet, etc., etc., etc.
“So, what about this Peter? I mean obviously it's serious, you’re wearing his initials around your neck.” Your dad only takes a bite of his food before interrogating you.
“He’s the same age as me, in the same grade. Biophysics major from Queens. We’ve been dating for almost a year.” You say that last part quietly, in hopes of not eliciting more surprise and rage from the duo.
Mission failed, as they both put their utensils down to focus on you. Your mother calls your name, making you make eye contact with both of them.
“Almost a year and this is the first we’re hearing about him?” She’s pissed, and it's evident in her face. Your dad’s the epitome of nonchalance, but you know he’s upset as well. “Explain yourself young lady.”
It’s hard to find the words to express how you truly feel in this moment. Any and all lies you’ve told at this point are coming crashing down around you. “I- um.” Your mother suddenly turns to face your father like she’s been hit with a revelation.
“Was he one of the boys who went on your spring break trip with you?” You facepalm yourself mentally. “One of them, we’re all friends mom.” You mutter. Honestly, you wish you could say it’s not that big of a deal, but you know it is to them. “I didn't want it to be a big thing.” You finally say after what feels like an eternity.
“He’s not normal, he’s not used to families like ours and when you guys find everyone finds out.” Playing with the necklace, once more to cease the horrible panic erupting in your body.
“I just wanted something for myself, not something I would be questioned and interrogated about for the foreseeable future.” You could stick up for yourself easily in an academic setting, but when it came to speaking up against your parents, it was something you struggled with badly.
“What do you mean he’s not normal?” Your dad interrupts.
“He only has his aunt, he doesn’t have a big family to rely on only her. He works crazy hard everyday and he still has time to be a good boyfriend. I don’t wanna overbear him with my problems and twenty questions that you guys have for him. I barely wanna answer your questionnaires.” You lean forward, ginger curls bouncing as you do.
Your parents had a tendency to be a tad dramatic, so there was another reason why you didn't tell them anything. You’d dyed your hair, and they’d texted and called a million times asking if you did it, or if you got it done professionally. What reviews the salon you went to had, if they were experienced and reputable.
It seems like your parents are understanding what you’re trying to say, but they are not offering any apologies. Not that you expected one, but accountability would still be nice to hear. The walk back to your dormitory is silent, but you’re thankful for no more questions.
As your building comes into view, your boyfriend holding a bouquet becomes visible as well. His smile widens as he sees you three, putting his phone away.
Hugging and kissing you on the cheek first, he turns his attention to your parents. “Hello, I’m Peter Parker, your daughter’s boyfriend.” You can tell he’s a little nervous as he waves and hands your mother the flowers, and shakes your dad’s hand.
Your roommate is out of the room, so it gives you four some time to play catch-up. “So Peter.” Your dad begins giving him a one-over. “You’re in a fraternity?” Eyes falling to the sweatshirt, he decided to wear, which has not the letters, but the entire name of it, embellished on. Peter nods, “Yes sir, I pledged my freshman year.”
“And you like it?” You grimace at the start of the questioning. You wonder how long it’ll take before Peter gets annoyed and fed up as you do. “Yeah, it’s an interesting experience for sure, but I love it.” He handles their questions with grace, as expected. Thankfully, none of them are about your relationship so far, all focusing on who he is as a person.
You’re observing your parents' facial expressions, and thus far, you can tell they approve of him. No answers have given them the impression that he’s a horrible person unworthy of their daughter. “So how did you two meet?” Your mother asks.
“I tutored her in Organic Chemistry,” Peter remembers the memory very fondly, but alas, that was a story for another day. You know for a fact that Peter could go on and on about how you two met; it was his favorite topic of all time. However, he could tell that wasn’t something you wanted to hear at the moment. To be completely honest, you looked like you wanted everyone in the room to blow up, him included.
Maybe it was the stress or the fact that you were tired from the day’s events, but he could tell that your social battery was at an all-time low. The room’s temperature intensifies, and he can feel the sweat on his brow. He removes his sweatshirt to reveal, to your horror, a big fat ass hickey on the left side of his neck.
The moisture in your mouth evaporates as your parents immediately turn their attention to you. “So you two are having sex?” You make a face of confusion. While they were technically correct, that was a big jump. “You got that from a hickey?” Peter asks, voice now at a high pitch. A glare from you and your dad silences him. Crazy genetics.
“I think that’s a conversation for another day Mom.” You answer. You can hardly look at your parents, you’re so embarrassed. Step one down at least, now for possibly the most awkward things a child has to hear from their parents.
“No, it’s a conversation for now? Are you all being safe? How long have you been having sex young lady.” Your hands cover your face as you can hardly fathom that this is your life right now. Everything you didn’t want to happen today ended up happening.
Like the good boyfriend he is, Peter decides to answer the questions. “This is so awkward, but we are completely safe, and this is more of a recent thing.” You’d never understood how Peter could read you so easily; you also never understood how he could lie so convincingly. What he said was so far from the truth, but your parents believed it?
The room is engulfed with silence for a moment before your Mom grabs her purse and phone. “I think we’ve learned enough today.” She grimaces. “We just popped over for a quick visit but I think it’s time we get on the road.” Your dad nods in agreement.
You hug them goodbye and watch them peel out of the parking lot. Your head falls onto Peter’s shoulder. There’s a feeling that the sex conversation would be revisited in a very embarrassing fashion, and you can only start to dread it.
Peter’s arm wraps around your waist as he kisses your forehead. “My place and I’ll put on Trolls?” He leans down, gently rubbing your arms. You give him a slight nod, gathering your things to leave.
Summary: The rest of your life had already been chosen for you; marry the richest man in all of New York and become the perfect wife by his side. But when you meet a masked stranger one night at the circus, you find yourself making irrational decisions. And you're not sure you can stop.
AU Spider-Man, where, instead of a superhero, he's an act at a circus. Set somewhere in the 1930s (not at all historically accurate, truly just for aesthetic purposes).
Warnings: None at the moment.
Notes: I fear that whenever a new Spider-Man film is on the horizon, I awaken from my slumber and get the itch to write. And in doing so, I came across this story I wrote four years ago (!!!) and never published. And because I didn't want it to rot alone, I fixed it up a bit and decided to share. Going to be probably be in 3-4 parts depending, as I wrote the story halfway but never finished, so we'll see how my present self wants to wrap it up.
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You didn’t want to go out that night.
You had much preferred to stay at home and read your current novel of choice, but your fiancé, Harry, had insisted you accompany him to the circus performance across town.
“Come on, sweetheart. You know the people will talk if they don’t see you by my side. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Harry says, crystal blue eyes so heavy on your back, you can feel them.
Your relationship with Harry was strictly business. One created for societal appearances and financial security.
You didn’t quite detest it, however, because despite your affinity for fantasy books featuring great romances, you knew the difference between reality and fiction; True love didn’t exist. And Harry Osborn wasn’t a bad man. He bought you extravagant gifts, never treated you with disrespect, and he was a man of wealth and many prospects. He was the sole heir of the Osborn family business, one that remained successful to this day, and after the passing of his father, Harry became the richest man in all of New York.
You were born from money as well, of course; however, your riches had run dry thanks to a business misfortune that led your father to relinquish his role in the family.
Permanently.
You were now the only one who could guarantee any form of security for you and your mother, and with the help of your good friend, Gwendolyn Stacy, a well-liked member of high society, you were introduced to Harry Osborn.
The first meeting wasn’t anything of romance either. After a walk in the Stacy estate gardens, he admitted why he was so interested in you.
“There’s a deep sadness in you. It’s in your eyes and the way you carry yourself.”
You nearly pause mid-step but keep your composure, an apology ready to be uttered. A sad girl would not make a desirable wife, you can almost hear your mother hiss.
As if he can tell your concern, he chuckled. “I like it. It's of comfort to me,” he reveals, an odd twinkle in his eyes.
You stare at him, expression unmoving, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest.
It was an internal conflict that ended quite quickly when you realized that there was no point in dwelling on it at all; all that mattered was for Harry to want you, whether it be genuine or for more... peculiar reasons. As long as he asked for your hand, you were guaranteed a secure future, and that’s all you cared about. Plus, you admired his honesty, because honesty was one of the many qualities of a good man.
And Harry was a good man.
You didn’t mind that your marriage would be loveless or void of passion. In fact, it was easier that way. You could remain living in your own little world, just how you liked it. He even promised to let you read at all hours of the day as long as you allowed him to do what he liked most as well—Go out drinking with colleagues, smoke tobacco in the parlor room, casually entertain pretty women. Not anything too far, but just enough to be fun for him.
It was the deal you two had that made him beyond susceptible to marrying you. And in marrying you, he would take care of you. A good man takes care of his wife.
And Harry was a good man.
“You've become a very valuable asset, sweetheart,” he had told you after your walk, blue eyes squinting as he smirked, his left eye hidden behind his dark hair.
You can imagine all the women who would absolutely die to have the Harry Osborn look at them like that. You were very lucky. There might have been no sweetness in the way he spoke to you, but there was also no aggression, like how your father would speak to your mother whenever she would come into his view. Throughout the walk, he honestly made you feel like you were a pet of some sort. Or another business deal.
But you knew there were worse ways to feel. So when Gwen headed over to you once he left, asking giddily about how it went, you said, “He’s quite the gentleman. I think he plans to propose next week.”
Her big blue eyes widen. “And?” she questions.
You linger on her expression, noticing the excitement she can barely contain. Her hands fidget anxiously as she waits for your response, and you find it comical how she looks more giddy about your possible proposal than you are.
“I’m saying yes,” you confess, and Gwen immediately jumps up, taking you into a hug. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing! You’re getting engaged!” she squeals.
You try not to overthink your lack of excitement in comparison to her. You don’t dwell on how you feel nothing at all. Instead, you plan in your head what you’ll be wearing to the planned proposal and if you can make do with what you already have in your closet.
The proposal, as planned, arrives the following week. Harry invites you and half the city to a party at his luxurious estate, and after light appetizers and a champagne toast, he gets down on one knee and asks you the question you practiced answering in the mirror for days leading up to it.
“Yes, of course,” you say simply, a smile plastered on your face.
Everyone around you erupts into cheers. Bottles pop, men clap each other on the back, women squeal with excitement, and you can hear your mother and Gwen sobbing happily. The sounds are loud, the celebration grandiose, yet it all fades into silence. The world slows around you, each movement unfolding in a blur as your vision softens. You almost fell numb to the ring being slid up your finger.
It's gaudy and not even close to something you would have picked out, with a diamond so obnoxious, you're sure the money could have been spent feeding half the city. Harry stands up and snakes an arm around your waist, smiling as cameras pop up from the crowd, flashes blinding you completely as he pulls you closer to him.
“Take it in. As the future Mrs. Osborn, the world is your fucking oyster,” he whispers in your ear with a low chuckle, the kind that makes it clear he expects this level of admiration because everyone else exists a level beneath him. You ignore the sick feeling in your stomach and continue to smile.
The next day, that same smile is plastered on the front page of the Daily Bugle.
You spent the next few weeks leading up to the wedding playing the part of 'perfect fiancé'. Attending social events with Harry, standing by him in support during public appearances, and most importantly, agreeing to whatever he requests. So, when Harry asks to go to the circus, you say yes despite not wanting to, because that would make him happy. And you knew that the key to a successful marriage was a happy husband.
Anything else you craved, the books you spent hours devouring could give you.
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The big red-and-white tent is an eyesore. There are strings of lights hung all around it, and crowds were walking in with a giddiness you couldn’t imagine exhibiting, but it was enjoyable to observe. Harry is chatting with his friend, Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson, while his girlfriend, Elizabeth Allan, is clad by your side.
“Oooh, you’re so lucky. I overheard Flash talking with Harry, and he said that he’s planning on having your ceremony at the Met! Is that true?! Oh, you’re going to have the most romantic wedding the city has ever seen. You have to let me be your maid of honor; I could absolutely plan the best…”
You don’t remember anything else about the conversation because, like most times, you zone out and just watch the world around you: the kids running gleefully into the tent, couples holding hands and giggling, the man on a unicycle greeting people in.
You’re grounded back to reality, though, when you reach your seats on a row of bleachers, and Harry tugs you into the seat next to him.
“I’m really hoping they have those freaks in the show. You know, like the bearded lady and the guy with lobster claws for hands,” Flash gushes obnoxiously, waving his hand over at a vendor walking his way.
Harry chuckles, passing the vendor a bill once he approaches, grabbing a box of popcorn and a bag of peanuts.
“You’re a freak yourself, Thompson, if you’re into those weirdos.”
He passes the box of popcorn to you, and you take it, despite not wanting any, because you know Harry just intends for you to hold it for him.
Suddenly, the lights dim and a single spotlight appears in the middle of the ring. A voice booms throughout the walls of the tent, and you can feel the nervous energy radiating off of everyone inside of it, anticipating the spectacle that’s to come.
“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the greatest show on earth!” A strong, boisterous voice announces, and the audience goes wild in applause and cheers.
The energy is like this throughout the entire show: constant whooping and hollering at the clowns and lions, and stuntmen shooting out of cannons. It was all a sight to be seen, and even you were completely entranced.
The lights dim once more as the previous act makes its way out of the center of the ring, and the announcer once again begins to speak.
“And now, prepare to be completely astounded by our most amazing act yet. Ladies and gentlemen, I advise you to keep your eyes wide open, for you will not want to miss what will surely be the first time you have ever seen such a spectacle. Behold, a man and a spider combined as one!”
The audience cheers, Flash near you stomping his feet on the metal below you as he whoops and hollers.
Your brows furrow, mind going through all the possibilities of this being possible. Was he a man with extra limbs? Extra eyes on his face? Capable of shooting webbing out of his-
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Amazing Spider-Man!”
A spotlight focuses on the top of the tent’s ceiling, and the whole crowd collectively gasps when they realize there’s someone there. The Amazing Spider-Man is clad in a blue and red suit with his hands and legs sticking to the top of the tent, causing a riot as he begins to crawl all around it.
“No fucking way!” Flash shouts in disbelief, and Harry laughs, reaching over to slap him on the shoulder.
“There’s your freak, Thompson,” he says, but you try your best to ignore them as you’re completely captivated by this ‘Amazing Spider-Man’.
Suddenly, Spider-Man stretches one of his hands out and shoots what looks like a web, attaching it to the other side of the ceiling.
The audience goes crazy, and your eyes widen in astonishment as Spider-Man jumps and swings down at the crowd.
He does this for a bit, doing flips and spins as he shoots web after web, swinging and diving down at the audience. Finally, he lands at the center of the ring, and the audience all stands up, including you, to give him a standing ovation.
He bows, waving his hand before
And that’s all you could think about as the show carried on: The Amazing Spider-Man who defied logic and did the impossible. It made your heart race, hands vibrating with excitement. You don’t understand why you’re feeling this way, never having been like this before, but when the show ends, a thrill stirs inside of you. Which is why, as you trail behind the group as everyone exits, your eyes immediately scan the crowd for the red and blue suit.
And as if the universe was curious about what the plot would entail if you did, you spot Spider-Man walking towards another tent in the distance. You don’t know what comes over you, certainly not logic, as you had a feeling that left your body as soon as he performed, but you quietly escape the group to pursue him.
You quickly enter the tent, back against the fabric as you close your eyes and let out a deep breath you were keeping in. Once you open them, you take in your surroundings. There was a humble bed, a rack with men’s apparel, and a small dresser that had seen better days. On top of the dresser, there were photo frames, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing one. The picture was that of an older woman with gray hair and kind eyes. You wondered who she was to this mysterious Spider-Man.
“Uh… can I help you?” a voice booms from above, and your head immediately snaps up with a jump.
There he was, Spider-Man hanging upside down from atop the ceiling.
You gasp as he lowers himself towards you, big white eyes staring straight into yours. Up close, you can see the details of his suit: the black web details artfully crafted throughout it, the spider emblem displayed in the middle. Your heart races with a mix of fear and excitement. The Amazing Spider-Man was right in front of you, staring you down, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to look away.
At this, you fiddle with your hands, cheeks warming up at the realization that you, in fact, had no solid reason for approaching him.
“No, umm…a-actually, I just wanted to say that I very much enjoyed the show. Especially your act,” you state, and you're sure he can tell how flustered you are.
But even if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, even with the mask covering his face, you can tell he seems taken aback.
“Oh. Uhh…thanks. You know, I never had someone enjoy the show so much that they follow me home, but I'm flattered,” he says, and with a yank of his wrist, the web attached to the roof breaks off, and he flips to a standing, upright position.
Standing in front of you, you feel your breath hitch in your throat, realizing how tall and intimidating he seems. You try to keep your composure.
“I’m sorry. I know that was very forward of me to do. I just…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me,” you say, realization washing over you.
You just followed a strange man into his ‘room’. What is going on with you???
“I sincerely apologize. I…I’ll just….”
“Why did you?” he asks, eyes remaining on you, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. “Follow me, I mean. Did you want to see if I had spider eyes or extra limbs I'm hiding? Curious as to how much of a freak I am?” There’s something in his tone that throws you off. A mix of amusement and bitterness.
You shake your head, fully embarrassed. “N-no. I…I just really liked your act. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I just wanted….” You pause, realizing you had no genuine idea what you intended to happen. For the first time ever, you just did something for no reason at all other than that you just wanted to.
“I don’t know why I did it. I just…did,” you admit, and he studies you in silence.
Just when you’re about to let out another apology and excuse yourself out of his tent, he suddenly steps closer to you, causing you to flinch lightly at his rapid movement. He doesn’t utter a word or a sound, his face hovering above yours as he stands just inches away from you. You feel your heart beating fast against your chest, and you're worried he can hear it too.
His masked face tilts slightly, as if he’s drinking you in fully. You should be afraid, you know it, but instead you feel…exhilarated. You hold your breath, waiting for whatever he says next.
“You sound like you make very rational decisions,” he finally says, catching you off guard, and you surprise yourself with a breathless laugh.
“Believe it or not, I normally do. I think the show just messed with my head,” you admit, and you feel a warmth in your chest when you hear him reciprocate the laughter.
“Yeah, this place can do that to you. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss…?” he says, and outstretches his hand towards you.
You stare at it for a moment before slipping your hand hesitantly into his, allowing him to give it a shake, and it’s something in his skin touching yours, despite it being completely covered by his suit, that sends shivers down your spine.
You reveal your name to him, which he repeats, and you feel a slight flutter in your chest at hearing his voice say it. He releases your hand from his grip, and you finally avert your eyes from his, knowing you probably look flushed.
“Are you here with your family or…?”
You look back up at him, not expecting him to ask anything like that.
“Umm..I’m actually here with some friends. And, uh… my fiancé,” you admit, and you think you see his body stiffen.
“Fiancé, huh? I shouldn’t be surprised. A pretty girl like you? Makes sense you’d be spoken for,” he says, and you feel your face heat up.
What you’re feeling at this moment, this bashfulness and warmth that sends shockwaves throughout your entire body, is like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s foreign, and it makes you nervous, but it also excites you.
This man excites you.
So you have to be pardoned when you make a complete fool of yourself and say:
“I don’t love him, though,” you confess before you even have a chance to realize what you’re saying.
You immediately wish that the ground would swallow you whole, especially when you can almost feel him being completely thrown off.
“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That was completely inappropriate. My apologies, I will be going now…”
“You don’t?” he questions, and despite not being able to see his eyes, you once again can feel something coming off of them. Amusement? Curiosity?
You process his question as your mouth opens and closes in a failed attempt to form coherent words.
“I…”
The way he’s seemingly sizing you up now makes you want to run away.
Oh, what a stupid fool you’ve made of yourself.
Spider-Man shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I was just not expecting that response, but I also know it’s not right of me to ask. We can just forget it happened and start over. Hi, I’m Spider-Man,” he states and lifts his hand to you once again.
You stare at his hand for a moment, slightly hesitant, before a small smile forms on your lips.
“Thank you,” you say gratefully, taking his hand once again.
“I take it this is your first time seeing our show?” he asks, and you nod.
“It’s my first time seeing anything like this, actually. And I have to say, it’s the most thrilling I’ve ever felt,” you confess honestly.
He chuckles softly, finally stepping away from you to stand a comfortable distance. “Really? Wow, then I’m honored. Although trust me when I tell you that, despite what the boss says, we’re far from the greatest show on earth.”
You giggle at this, surprising yourself with the sound. You can’t remember the last time you ‘giggled’. You didn’t even think you still could.
Suddenly, he pulls his wrist out, and with a thwip, a web shoots out and sticks to the wall of the tent behind him. You gasp as he swings towards it, staring up at him in awe as he lands, hands and feet sticking to it perfectly.
“See, that’s incredible! How do you do that?” you ask, and you feel a giant giddy smile take over your face.
“Honestly? I don’t know. I got bit by a spider not too long ago, and then I started being able to do things like this,” he confesses as he begins to crawl up towards the ceiling and then back down the wall behind you.
You turn around, eyes fully glued to his every movement. “Amazing,” you say breathlessly, as he lands on his two feet in front of you once again.
“That’s my name; don’t wear it out,” he jokes, and you laugh.
He’s funny.
“Are you busy right now?” he asks suddenly.
Your mouth forms a small ‘o’, suddenly remembering the group you came with. You turn around and slightly lift the fabric of the tent up so you can peep outside. Your eyes search the crowd, and you immediately spot Harry scanning the groups of people who are still exiting the tent.
“Right. Your fiancé, huh?”
You look back at him, an apologetic expression on your face.
“Yes. I…thank you for such an amazing show. Really, I think this will be the highlight of my life. I wish you much success, Spider-Man,” you say with a small smile, mustering up the gratitude you feel towards him.
But what you don’t know is that your eyes clearly betray the smile on your face, a sadness he notes immediately.
You turn around, and just as you’re about to exit the tent, you feel him gently pull your arm to turn towards him.
“Please don’t feel any pressure to accept, but we’re actually going to be here all week. We have a contract to put on the show every night. And since you really enjoyed yourself, I think you should come back tomorrow so I can give you a tour. You know, meet everyone, find out some behind-the-scenes magic. Maybe even let you pet the elephants,” he suggests, and your eyes light up in excitement.
“R-really?” you ask in awe, and he nods, responding with a simple “Absolutely.”
The sad look in your eyes immediately shifts to excitement, and it stirs butterflies in his chest. Despite having just met you, the light in your eyes and smile felt intoxicating. He wanted to drink it up as much as he could.
So when you say yes to meeting him tomorrow, he’s ecstatic and promises to give you the best time of your life. You say your goodbyes, and he watches you run off to your fiancé, who looks less than pleased at you having disappeared.
He notices the way you shrink in place, and in his head, he replays your conversation and the sudden mention of not loving your fiancé. It was strange and disturbing, and anyone else would think it too forward, but he understood that you must have been feeling exasperated enough to have confessed that to a stranger like him.
Yet, something about you felt familiar. Like he knew you from beyond this moment. Like this was meant to happen, and he had been waiting for you to stumble into his tent all this time.
He finally rips the mask off his face and sighs heavily, flopping onto his bed as he faces the top of the tent.
I have such a good spider man fic idea I think I might make it into a series?
The plot is basically reader is Tony's daughter and she basically helps him. And I js kinda want it to be the plot of civil war, home coming, infinity war, end game but reader and peter are together anyways it sounds better in my head im really bad at expressing what I think
