Warnings: angst, not a happy ending, swears (Like a lot of them, beware). Typos
A/N: So my friend gave me this idea. Obviously this kind of fanfic has been written before. Its not a new concept. Just enjoy it. I hate angsty fics myself, at least those that don’t end happy, but oh well. I´m stressed and a little pissed so here it is. I havent proof read it yet, and probably never will. I tried to write it as non-descriptive as I could but I probably messed up somewhere. Please reblog with your comments and help a gal out.
Words: 1011
6 pm
Not a sign of Y/Ns boyfriend of two years. Well he could just be a few minutes late, he had an exam late in the afternoon, after all.
7 pm
Still no sign Y/Ns boyfriend. Y/N was starting to get pissed off. It wasn’t the first date he had missed or skipped or whatever he said he did. It was annoying and this date was important. It was their anniversary. Y/N looked up and around the diner, they had ordered and was eating their fries currently as they looked up at the TV. It was a live feed showing Spider-whoever taking down some criminals. Why couldn’t Petr be like that? Y/N thought, show up just in time. They sighed and finished their fries before dumping a 20-dollar bill on the tabl and leaving the diner. They got to their car and jumped in starting it up to get the heater on. It was January and New York was bloody cold. Why ahd no one told Y/N, New York was a cold ass city during the winter months. Had they known they would have never moved there. They turned the ignition on fully and drove to the campus. They ahd their own small apartment there and knew they wouldn’t be bothered by Peter. He would probably wake up tomorrow morning with an excellent excuse to why he had skipped anniversary dinner.
Now you may wonder, why would they have their anniversary dinner in a cheap diner? Well, you see, that was the spot of their first date. Yeah, duh, cliché, we know. Y/N sighed as they parked in the only empty spot of the campus. Maybe they´d pass by Neds dor and hang with him. They made their way up the stairs and knocked on Neds door hich was just three doors from their own dorm. Ned opened the door and frowned. “Ehum, now isn´t the best time Y/N” which was weird because Ned never ever ever said no to a visit from Y/N. “He´s here isnt he?” Y/N asked and groande loudly. “Fuck me, fuck this. Tell him to go fuck off will you, and oh tell him Im fucking done with his no-show bullshit, alrigth.” Y/N continued and behind Ned, Peter popped his head out. From what Y/N could see he was half naked.
“Shoot, Y/N I got so busy, I was just about to go to the… you know.” He said and smiled awkwardly. “Go where Peter? You don’t even remmeber do you? And I dated you for two years, what a fucking waste. I came to New York for you, Ive spent two cold ass winters here for you and this is how you thank me. I really thought that you of all people would understand the importance of a relationship.” Y/N said as they felt tears spring in their eyes. They wouldn’t cry in front of Peter though, no he didn´t deserve that. Those tears were reserved for Y/Ns pillow and their pillow only. Before they could say anything more Y/N turned and ran towards their own dorm. They unlocked the door and got in quickly before locking the door behind them.
The bed was tempting, but shower came first. It was important to maintain a healthy routine, plus that mascara would not make the sheets a happy sight to see in the morning. Y/N took a good, long shower, they had earned it. Washed their face and hair because it was time for their me-time. Once they were out of the shower they put on a face mask and got themselves a drink, just a regular diet soda. Alcohol had been strictly banned after the last party and well, Y/N didn’t want to risk her education that she had paid a lot for, because she had alcohol in her dorm. They heard the door but didn’t bother and instead put in some earbuds and turned on some music as they waited for the face-masks time to be up. Once it was they massaged the extra serum into their skin before brushing their teeth and heading to bed.
Peter was on the outside of their bedroom window which wasn’t hard as Y/Ns dorm was on the first floor. Y/N really didn’t care though and they didn’t want to talk to Peter. They walked over to the window and turned the blinds. Peter was left standing out there in the cld watching as the person he loved shut him out completely. He knew he had messed up, but he wanted to make it right. Why would Y/N let him make it right. Y/N wanted to talk it out with Peter, but that wasn’t an option right now. They werent sure when it would be an option. Probably not for a long time. Peter had ditched them one too many times and it hurt them. They werent sure what was going on but had to fear the worst in case of protecting themselves. Of course Peter had an affair. Could it even be called an affair if they werent married or at least engaged. He had something on the side of what they had. Why else would he be late or never show for dates, why else would he come home drenched in sweat. Why else would he spend so much time on his phone with someone named Happy.
Y/N honestly just wanted the truth, but they werent ready for it. They needed time to think and process. And they needed time to heal. They checked their phone seeing several calls and texts from peter. They unlocked their phone and quickly went into his contact and put him on mute. They did the same for Ned as they figured Peter would try to go through Ned to get in contact. Y/N went to bed and curled up closest to the wall with a pillow against their chest. In the words of Tauriel `Why does it hurt so much?´, they thought and then quickly remembered the words of Thranduil although they couldn’t get themselves to think of them.
Summary: Miss. Y/N Thompson is Flash’s step-sister, one of the queen bees and a popular girl around the school. One day, she’s feeling bold when Peter Parker is her chemistry partner.
Notes: ive had this idea for such a long time, but like a fanfic for it on wattpad (FOLLOW ME ON WATTPAD: @/angryfangirl) bUt im a dirty girl so i turned it into smut oops,, i GOT SOME CUTE ASS LINGERIE ON, GOT SUM DICK TODAY, THOUGHT ID UPLOAD THIS LOLOL
“Miss. Thompson,” Your head shot up, meeting eyes with the irritated teacher in front of you. You smiled, laughing nervously as you raised your eyebrows. “Do you know the answer to number fifteen?”
Before you could answer, the bell rang causing you to spring up and grab your things. The class chuckled in amusement while you smirked, holding your books against your chest as you waltzed out of the classroom. There was thankfully one class period left, Chemistry Honors, you loved it. Well, not the subject specifically. You took your time walking down the hallways, greeting peers as they waved at you. It wasn’t hard to explain, you were pretty popular around the school, you could blame that on your step-brother, Flash Thompson. You were the nicer sibling, sweeter and smarter, definitely the favorite. Flash’s father would easily choose you over his son, you were just that good of a kid. Flash, on the other hand, was a known troublemaker, stuck-up rich kid, and quite the bully. You were nothing alike despite your years of growing up with each other, your parents married when you both were eight, it was a love-hate relationship between you both. Something that was a bit similar between you and Flash was reputation, you were somewhat serious about yours, never associating with the wrong people, it was a flaw of yours. You didn’t hang out with the Gaming Club, you found yourself a bit closer to Liz Allan and the cheerleading team.
“Today, we will be doing a Mole project. You will be making stuffed Moles! Get it? — Mole?” The chemistry teacher announced the moment students began to enter the room. He held up a little stuffed rodent that he had made himself.
You rolled your eyes, looking around for available seats at the working tables. Your eyes landed on Flash, instantly scoffing and shaking your head. You refused to work with him, he was already a pain in the ass at home. You continued to scan the tables before finding all the seats used up, you gasped at the sight of a free chair and table, rushing over, you jumped to seat yourself. You glared at the back of Flash’s head as he was seated in front of you, the seat beside you screeched.
“Can you not talk so obnoxiously loud?” You flicked your step-brother’s ear causing him to flip you off in return.
He began to think of a snarky remark before he focused on the person who sat beside you, “Penis Parker!” Flash laughed.
You turned your head and raised your eyebrows at Peter, he kept his head low in attempt to ignore your step-brother. You slapped the back of Flash’s head and muttered for him to be quiet. After a few seconds, you turned to Peter and smiled. “Sorry about him. He’s an ass.” The boy looked up and laughed quietly.
You bit your lip as he gazed away, paying attention to the directions being given. You couldn’t help but stare at him, Peter Parker was handsome, an old crush since middle school that died down by the beginning of junior year. He was interested in your best friend, Liz Allan, everyone was pretty sure of that, but as soon as she had moved away, his interests were unclear. You found yourself biting your pencil, your eyes still studying his face. Peter had a strong jaw, soft skin, these cute brown eyes that were either very focused or sometimes incredibly lost. You were brought back into reality when Peter looked at you, you straightened yourself up. He scooted his seat closer to you, settling the worksheet in between you both. Peter Parker was a low status at school, typically, he was someone you didn’t really associate with. It was bitchy, but that’s how it was. People would probably laugh at you if they were knew how you felt about the boy. You watched him scribble his name on the top of the paper. It was senior year now, things were different, what was the point of still trying to fit in when school was going to be over soon anyways? He passed the paper over to you, waiting for you to write your name.
‘Y/N Thompson’ You write neatly, moving your seat closer to start working. His clothed knee touched your bare thigh, he cleared his throat nervously. “Um- okay, did you want to do the stitching while I completed the work problems?” He suggested.
You raised your eyebrows in amusement, “Why do I have to do the lady work?” You passed him the sewing kit with a smirk while you grabbed the calculator. Peter’s cheeks turned a bright pink before he stammered nervously. “We’ll switch off, okay?” You started off with number one, easily figuring out equations and scribbling down the answers.
Peter sat beside you, starting to stitch the fabric to build your stuffed mole. You found yourself tearing your gaze away from the paper to look over at him. He was focused, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. You bit down on your lip again, taking an attempt at question number two before you moved your thigh. His knee continued to brush on your skin, your arms touching. You cleared your throat, pushing the paper closer to him before thinking of what to say.
“Um, I don’t think I get this one.” You said softly, you did understand the question, you just wanted his attention.
“Oh okay, I-I can explain it.” Peter nodded, You furrowed your eyebrows.
“Can you talk louder? I can’t hear you.” You lied, the classroom had gotten rowdy but not to the point where you couldn’t hear.
He leaned closer to you, his lips close to your ear as he began to explain the question. You moved your leg, goosebumps running across your skin as he spoke to you. Your hand slipped underneath the table, landing onto his left thigh. Peter froze, his words choking up. You stroked his leg gently with a soft smile playing on your face. He stared at you, unsure of what to say. You looked around the classroom, no one had been paying attention.
“A- W-What are you doing?” Peter asked quietly, continuing the stitching while you used your free hand to play with the pencil on the desk.
“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, all he needed to say was yes or no, you would oblige. It was bold move, completely unexpected. Peter never thought you would try something like this on him, Y/N Thompson trying to seduce Peter Parker? It had to be a cruel joke.
He was scared to respond before he gulped, “No.”
“Then I won’t.” Your whispered into his ear, your hand continuing to stroke his thigh.
Peter shuttered beside you, his hands slightly shaking as he ran the needle through the fabric. He wasn’t very good at stitching but now he was doing even worse. Your touch was making him sweat, your soft hand on him was getting him hard. You noticed, occasionally looking from the worksheet to the boy’s face to his stitching to his lap. You smirked slightly as your hand led to his hard-on, you palmed him through his pants. He let out a small gasp, whipping his head up to glance at the teacher. You looked over at Flash who hadn’t noticed anything, you don’t know how he would react. You focused back to Peter, the pants leaving his mouth were leaving you wet. You cleared your throat, opening your legs wider and slipping down your hand to your soaked panties. He glanced over, eyes widening even further, if they grew any bigger they’d probably fall out of his head.
“We always have tomorrow if you don’t finish today! We will be presenting these, they need to be unique, make them a name. They can even be based-off of your favorite character!” The teacher exclaimed, Peter flinched each time.
You watched him attempt to stitch with one hand, the other grazing up and down your thigh. He clearly hadn’t done this before. You leaned closer to him, your lips lingering along his ear. Peter inhaled sharply, as your breath hit his skin. “Touch me.” You almost moaned quietly, he did as told, nodding as you sat back and continued to watch his lap with hooded eyes. Your hand worked back to the worksheet, while your other was handling palming him through his black jeans. His fingers pushed away your panties, he instantly collected the wetness between your slits, the pad of his index finger placed on your throbbing clit. You groaned lowly at the feeling, he didn’t really need your help, he somewhat knew what he was doing. Peter Parker has never been with a girl, especially in this way - he must’ve learned from videos, it felt good so that’s what you assumed. You clutched his hard cock through his jeans, biting down your lip as he rubbed circles on your sensitive bud. You looked up, on look-out once again before you met Flash’s eyes.
“What?” You snapped, “Sorry that our mole is gonna look better than y-yours.” You stuttered during the last word as Peter’s fingers pressed down on your clit harder than before, you rubbed him quicker.
“You wish!” Flash scoffed, turning his head and paying attention to his work, nudging his partner to work faster.
You quickened your pace with the palming of his cock, resisting the urge to accidentally drop your materials and get on your knees for Peter right there. His breathing was heavy, his fingers were quicker on your clit, he was close. You could see it in the way Peter was twitching, the way he occasionally shut his eyes and shuddered in pleasure. You leaned towards him again, a smile on your sweet face. “Cum for me, Parker.” You said softly, he instantly groaned but quickly covered it up with a cough - no one noticed. You continued to palm him until he grabbed your hand, it rested there for a second until you felt a wet spot on his black jeans. Peter was lucky he had worn them. You pulled away from him, a shit-eating grin on your face. You looked over at him and admired the post-orgasm look on his face, he was red, a bit sweaty from the pleasure. With confidence, you picked up his hand and raised it to his mouth. Peter took the hint, taking the fingers he had played with you and cleaning them up. He smiled back, leaning closer to you, “You taste so good.” Peter’s comment was low, it made you squeeze your thighs together in surprise.
“See? Look at mine, fuckers!” You both tore away, looking over at Flash who set down his mole. It was a stuffed animal in what looked like a makeshift Spider-Man suit. You snorted, your step-brother was obsessed with the superhero. Peter’s eyes widened at the sight, awkwardly coughing and focusing on your own project.
“It looks fucking stupid.” You laughed, snatching the Spider-Man mole in chucking it across the room. Flash smacked your arm, immediately protesting and shouting.
Story: AU in which Peter Parker, 16, is a homeless vigilante just trying to do his thing in Queens. Tony Stark is a rich superhero who flies onto the scene. Eventual IronDad will ensue.
A/N: Title from Coldplay’s “Fix You.” Sorry if this AU has been done like 10,000 times and if that song has been used like 15,000. Here’s another.
WARNINGS: Guns, gun violence, robbery, cussing, verbally abusive language
- - - - - - - - - -
It’s only midnight, but Peter’s already feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping into his bones. He stands on the Queens rooftop looking out over the city; the fading yellow streetlights give him a strange kind of warmth in his stomach, a stark contrast to the burn of hunger that usually lingers there. He sighs and leans his head against the post next to him; he pulls up his red ski mask above his nose and inhales deeply, allowing his eyes to slide closed, allowing his ears to absorb the familiar sounds of the city, unhindered as he just exists for a moment.
For a moment he feels like a normal person. Not a vigilante. Not a homeless teenager. Not a crime fighter. Not even a superhero, if he were to be so bold with such a title. For a moment he is just a human being, and that is all he could ask for after four straight nights packed full of activity. Nobody needs saving. Nobody’s chasing him down. Nobody’s crying, “Spider-Man! Help me!” For once Peter Parker can just exist, and for once that’s enough. It doesn’t feel like he has to earn his existence, like he owes the universe anything for allowing him to live when everything he loves has been stolen away from him.
But the moment doesn’t last. It never does.
Peter opens his eyes, blinking once before pulling his mask over his face. He crouches, carefully moving toward the edge of the building, and quiets his breathing as much as is possible, listening intently for what would follow the sound that he thinks is the tell-tale clicking of a lock-pick's handiwork.
There it is. The rattle of a doorknob, the shuffle of feet.
A break-in in his typical territory. These guys are getting bold.
Peter positions himself at the edge of the building, peering over but staying as inconspicuous as possible; they’re just a few buildings over in a store Peter has frequented. Had frequented with his Uncle Ben. Their last visit was a little over a year ago...before-
Peter snaps to attention when he hears the cash register shaking, the intruders trying to break it open with brute force. He can’t see them anymore from this building, so he tiptoes over the back edge and scales the back wall as quickly and quietly as he can. He comes around the left corner and listens, hearing nothing, and he comes out to the side, keeping to the shadows just in case. His tinted swim goggles, red ski mask and fingerless gloves, and blue sweatshirt and sweatpants aren’t exactly stealth material.
He can see the robbers more clearly now; one is carefully extracting something from what must be his back pocket, not paying attention to the other who has pulled a gun and is aiming at the cash register. A boom sounds through the open doorway, muted by the windows, and blinding emergency lights snap on. A screeching alarm blares throughout the shop and leaks out into the street.
“Are you shitting me?!” A rough voice cuts through the din. “We pick the lock and creep around with no detection, and you just had to-”
“I’m...I’m sorry, Man-...uh, maaan.” The second voice is deeper than the first but timid, and Peter can hear two pairs of lungs breathing: one deep and heavy, the other shallow and short. “I just-You were struggling with the drawer, so I thought-”
“To shoot the fucking thing? With your piece of shit gun? Are you serious? You don’t have a silencer!” The owner of the first voice opens what Peter now sees is a tan bag and begins to shovel in money from the register.
“Wh-what are you doing?! Shouldn’t we go?”
“We might as well get what we can and scram. The cops’ll take a few minutes anyway.”
“I was-Are you sure you could’ve gotten it open?”
“If can pick a fucking door lock, I sure as hell can pick a damn cash register lock!”
“I just-I didn’t think-”
“You’re right, you didn’t think!”
“Well, I mean it didn’t seem like his security was that good.”
“This is at least a semi-successful sandwich shop, idiot. Of course he has decent security, especially when you go around shooting shit. Why the hell do you think I’ve been staking the place out for months?”
“I’m-”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t you fucking dare.” The leader has finished stuffing his burlap sack, and he throws it at the obvious younger of the pair. “I swear to god, if we get caught-”
“What? You’ll pee your pants?” Peter winced. Come on, Parker, are you five?
“S-Spider-”
“Ah, yes, the Spider-Man.” The leader steps toward Peter with carefully measured steps, eyes gleaming beneath his own black ski mask. “The local superhero, here to save the-” He suddenly tries to bolt out the door, but Peter’s enhanced reflexes are too quick, and he easily stops him with a firm arm to the stomach.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere. You didn’t even finish your-”
“Stop!” The younger voice is quivering, and Peter turns toward it, absorbing the gun barrel pointed in his direction. “Just-uh, just stand down, Spider-Man. Let us go, and you get to live!”
“My god, you idiot; you don’t announce you’re gonna shoot a guy! You just do it!”
“But that’s unsporting-”
“This isn’t a sport, asscrack! This is life or death, here! Shoot him!”
Peter’s hands are spread, palms facing each of the individuals in turn as he breathes, trying to sort out the best scenario for this situation. The one who has to be a teenager is too far for him to disarm without risking getting shot, and he can’t let the man on the floor get away either-
“Hands where I can see them.”
Peter glances down, and his blood runs cold. The leader has taken advantage of Peter’s predicament and drawn his own weapon, aiming at Peter’s head with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“You’re surrounded, Spider-Man. No hope of escape.” The man on the floor lets out a rough chuckle just the first pitches of police sirens peel through the air outside.
“Shit. You really kept us going this long, didn’t you? What a sneaky trick, but now-”
“Freeze!-” A plainclosthesman is in the doorway, his gun drawn. “Drop your weapons-”
“NO, YOU DROP YOUR WEAPON, OR SPIDER-MAN GETS IT!” The leader screams from his spot on the floor, shaking his gun in Peter’s direction. “WHERE WILL YOU PIGS BE WITHOUT YOUR SUPER-POWERED DOG TO DO YOUR WORK FOR YOU?”
“PUT IT DOWN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT-”
The cop and the robber go back and forth, spewing insults and threats as the sirens grow louder, but Peter tunes them out, facing the one chance he has left.
“Hey, dude. You don’t want to do this.” Peter inches forward, but freezes when the kid tightens his hold on the gun. “Please. I....I know what it’s like to struggle, okay? I’ve been there.”
“You have no idea what my life is like. Don’t try to relate to me.” The kid grinds out, his jaw quaking to match his shimmering eyes.
“Okay, you’re right. I don’t know your life. But I know mine.” Peter takes a steadying breath. “I know what it’s like to to be homeless. To pack up with whoever you can to up your chances of survival.” Peter nods his head toward the ground. “I use tape to hold my shoes together.” Peter gestures down to his bare feet. “Well, when I’m wearing shoes. Glad you found something thick that you could sew into it. That’s impressive. Did you know how to sew, or did they teach you?”
“Quit chatting!” The leader interrupts from the floor, eyeing the cop with the gun trained on him. “This isn’t a social gathering! Fly, stupid butterfly!”
The kid suddenly spins on his heel and takes off toward the other side of the store, vaulting over the counter and disappearing into the rooms behind. Peter shakes his head and sighs, turning back to the man sprawled on the floor.
“What are you laughing at, shithead? We got what we came for.”
“He’s gonna have a hard time navigating back there; Delmar keeps this place fully stocked, so much that it’s like a maze to get through to the back alley.”
“I know that, you idiot; I drew him a map of the place and made him memorize it.”
“A map? But how-”
Another boom sounds, and the masked man drops his gun, screaming in agony as blood pools around and out of the bullet now lodged in his upper arm.
Peter finally registers that a police vehicle has arrived. The driver enters first, shoving past the plainclothes cop toward the attempted thief. The cop yanks the ski mask off of the man’s head, and Peter holds back a gasp.
He, too, had been watching Delmar’s for a while now, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see that it was a recent hire under the mask. Likely in his 40s, the red-headed man is familiar to Peter; Delmar rarely took in people outside of his family, but the man has a soft spot for people who are down on their luck. He must have spun some kind of sob story to get Delmar to take him in.
“Huh, well I’ll be damned.” The plainclothesman speaks up first. “Manny the deli guy.”
The cop pulls the man to his feet and pushes him against the counter to book him, shaking his head as Manny continues to yell and the plainclothesman shakes his head. “Makes a damn good sandwich, too, Sucks ass for Delmar to lose this guy.”
The cops each take an arm and escort Manny to the cop car, somehow chatting casually amidst the animalistic howls emitting from their charge.
“What about the kid? Did Lenox find him?”
“Nah. Back door’s open, so the kid’s probably long gone with the money.”
“Shit. Hate to have to break it to Delmar.”
“We got it from here, Spider-Man.” An officer Peter hadn’t noticed before, a woman with blonde hair and soft brown eyes was taping off the outside of the shop. “Thanks for your help, as always.”
“Oh, no-” Peter clears his throat. “No problem, ma’am. Happy to do my duty.”
She nods and sets about her work.
It takes everything Peter has not to jerk toward the shuffling his ears pick up from the back of the store. “Uh-Delmar has a, uh, a cat, so I better make sure he’s okay.”
“Oh, sure.” The lady cop gestures over her shoulder. “Make it quick, though. The other guys have to come in here soon to check the place over.”
“Right, yeah, of course, thanks!”
Peter hurdles himself over the counter and slips into the back rooms, ears peeled for the scuffle of plastic soles on linoleum. What he hears, instead, is heavy breathing, and he follows the sound to the walk-in refrigerator. Clenching his jaw, Peter carefully opens the door-
“Shit.” The kid is huddled on the ground, arms clinging to the bag desperately with his eyes closed, as if he’s bracing to be shot, too.
Peter puts his hands up in a show of peace. “Don’t shoot and neither will I.”
“You don’t have a gun.”
“It looks like you don’t either.”
The kid scoffs. “Dropped it when I was trying to get through this damn labyrinth of a backroom.”
Peter looks around quickly, and then slips through the opening and into the freezer, pulling it shut behind him and leaving them in darkness. “Look, the cops are still here scoping out the place. They saw the back door, so they think you’re long gone. They’re about to actually search the place, so you might want to get outta here like yesterday.”
“What the fuck? Why’re you helping me? Aren’t you like the police’s dog or something?”
It’s Peter’s turn to scoff. “No. I work by myself and for myself; they just kind of come with the territory.”
“Still. Why help me?”
“....I know you can hear my voice as much as I can hear yours.” Peter’s tone is soft, imploring. “I was in a spot like you for a little while, but it wasn’t worth it. I got out, and so can you.”
“...How’d you leave?”
“A raid I was thankfully absent for. No one turned me over, amazingly.”
“Pack loyalty.”
“Probably. Probably hoped I’d revive the group, too.”
“Yeah. Anyway, this is a nice pow-wow and all,” Peter can hear the other boy shifting. “But I gotta bounce.” The kid stands and carefully opens the freezer door.
“They’re all out front.” Peter quickly reassures him. He stares for a second then smiles when he takes in the face of his hiding place buddy. “Hiding in plain sight?”
“Exactly. Ski mask makes you stick out. Especially if you’re a black kid when there’s cops around.”
Peter nods. “Sorry I can’t return the favor.”
“It’s cool. Vigilante status and all that.” The kid pauses. “Here.” He reaches into the bag and hands Peter a handful of bills, 20s from what Peter can see.
Peter stares for a moment, and the kid shakes it toward him.
“Street kids gotta look out for each other, you feel? This was a small bust, anyway. A practice.”
Peter’s heart sinks at the implication but eyes the money, the empty pits of his stomach crying out from weeks of going with tiny portions compared to what he needs to eat.
“I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Spend it all here, and it evens out, right?” The kid quirks a smile. “Don’t over think it.” He shoves the stack into Peter’s lap before looking around one last time and stepping outside of the chilly room. “Take care of yourself, Spider-Man. I’ll see you around.” And he’s gone.
Peter sits for a moment with the money in his lap, his mind spinning as he wrestles with the ethical implications of his actions. He needs to eat. He’s running himself ragged being Spider-Man with so little food to squelch his metabolism. He used to shelter hop, staying at one place for a bit before switching to another for a decent flow of food, but after a while, he became a familiar, lonely face. They asked too many questions about him, his parents, and why his parents couldn’t ever come with him to stay. This would be his first real meal in weeks. The kid gave him the money, and if he doesn’t eat he can’t be Spider-Man...
Peter sighs, swallowing the guilt knotted in his throat before quickly organizing the bills and sliding them into his sweater for safe keeping.
He goes back through the front of the shop, waving to the cops out front before disappearing as is his M-O.
Peter decides to turn in early that night, thoroughly wiped now, so he carefully creeps up the side of a too familiar brick building. He finally makes it to the uppermost fire escape and pulls down the dufflebag he has stuffed there, removing the chemically produced webs he uses to hide his belongings where no one else can go.
He really needs to sneak back into the school again soon; his supply is running low. He lives in anticipation of summer when he might be able to get away with making and taking more of the webs to use for fighting and not just storage and survival purposes. He has often daydreamed of what it would be like to use the webs to swing around town, hang upside down, or even make a giant web like real spiders. They would definitely up his superhero status.
Sighing at such fantasies, Peter throws the duffel over his shoulder and hauls himself up to the top of the apartment complex.
“Home sweet home.” Peter mutters under his breath as he crosses the roof for the final jump onto the top of what once was a garden shed. The tenants gave up on a roof garden years ago, so the shed usually sits empty save for cobwebs and gardening equipment long forgotten, a perfect storage place for the items Peter doesn’t want to expose to the rain. The roof of the shed is set at such a small angle that it is nearly flat and therefore not conducive to ridding itself of rainwater, but Peter loves to sleep under the stars, the honks and hums of the city akin to a lullaby, and he has managed to patch critical spots with some moldy tarps, some nails, and a hammer left in the shed.
Now Peter sets his bag on the wearing shingles and stretches his back, his arms, his shoulders before pulling a warn fleece blanket out of his bag. He spreads the blanket and lays down, pulling off his mask and goggles which he stashes away before conceding to sleep in his Spider-Man costume just once. He’s too tired to change tonight, he decides as he allows himself to drift.
His heart stalls when he hears a low rumbling above his head, and his eyes snap open, searching the sky intently for something he knows he’ll never see. Every once in a while he’ll hear it. It’s never a stormy night, no clouds in the sky, no distant roar of thunder, no smell in the air, but he’ll hear a sound, a low rumbling akin to thunder but not quite the right timbre. Peter has never figured out what it is, but once he swore he saw a dark square floating in the sky on its own, like a ghostly apparition in the shape of a metal panel.
No such sight appears tonight, but as Peter stares at the sky, his own words drift back to him: hiding in plain sight. Definitely a government conspiracy Ned would believe.
Peter sighs and rolls his eyes before turning onto his side and curling into himself, now fully allowing himself to fall into a well-earned sleep.
- - - - - - - - - -
Tony Stark sits perched in the cockpit of his plane, gazing down at the city below him with little attachment or interest.
“You really didn’t have to come with us, Tony.” Happy Hogan speaks up from his seat beside Tony. “I could’ve handled the shipment on my own.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” Tony quips with a scowl, absently fiddling with the Iron Man gauntlet engaged over his right hand. “I spent way too long customizing these arc reactors to have the recipients bitching and calling me as soon as they don’t know how to use them. Might as well go and write everything off as a business expense.”
“Right, of course.” Happy rolls his eyes and turns his attention back in front of them. “I gotta say, though. I don’t think this plane needs any security from Iron Man himself.”
Tony throws him a look.
“The reflective plates are genius in their simplicity, Tony; no one even knows we’re up here.”
“Of course not, but I know about the plate incident from last year, Hogan.”
“Okay, we flew a little bit too low and bumped one of the panels on the new World Trade Center.”
“Hence why all of my planes are self-flying now.”
It’s Happy’s turn to dish out looks. “No one saw us or reported it. No harm; no foul.”
“Yeah because you left 5 hours late and no one was out to see you flying at 2am.”
“Hey, that delay was your-”
“Is that a kid?”
“What? Come on, Tony, I know you hate to have your past blunders brought up, but-”
“No, look, down there.” Tony points through the window and down toward a building Happy cannot distinguish.
“Tony, how can you even tell?”
Tony taps on his glasses frames. “Elementary zoom function, My Dear Happy. But, yeah, there’s definitely a kid sleeping on a roof down there.”
“Probably just had a fight with his parents or something.”
“He has a bag next to him.”
Happy scoffed. “Obviously threatened to run away from home and only made it to the roof. I remember someone else pulled shit like that when he was a kid.”
“You have no proof.”
“Rhodey told me.”
“Rhodey wasn’t there. We didn’t meet until college.”
Happy just rolls his eyes again and settles back into his seat. “See anything else with those glasses.”
“Just a bunch of cop sirens.”
“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me if something interesting happens.”
“Gee, thanks, Forehead of Security. I feel so safe with you around.”
Happy just snorts, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes.
Tony rests an elbow on the window sill and puts his chin on his palm, languidly watching New York pass below, the lonely little figure soon left behind and forgotten for the moment.
These are a bunch of writing prompts I found that I decided to write fanfic about. These stick to mostly the same characters and each prompt has two different stories.
If you want to be tagged in this writing series ask!!
Writing Prompts:
Stay for Me:
Spider-Man X Reader
Spider-Man X Black!Cat! Reader
What’s This Between Us:
College!Peter ParkerX Reader
PeterParker X Flash!Thompson!Sister! Reader
I Don’t Want Your Apology:
Harrison Osterfield X Reader
Tom Holland X Reader
You Know I Have Feelings For You:
Peter Parker X Reader
Harrison Osterfield X Reader
You’ve Never Hurt Me:
Spider-Man X Reader
Tom Holland X Reader
Then Leave Her/Him/Them At Home:
Spider-Man X Superhero!Reader
Tom Holland X Reader
I Don’t Believe It:
Harrison Osterfield X Reader
Spider-Man X Loki!Daughter!OC! Nora
This Is Breaking My Heart:
Peter Parker X Reader
Tom Holland X Reader
I Wish You Were Here:
Peter Parker X Stark!Reader
Tom Holland X Reader
I Let You Down:
Spider-Man/Peter Parker X Mysterio!Daughter! Reader
Spider-Man/Peter Parker X Superhero!Reader
You’re Not Safe Here:
Spider-Man X Reader
Harrison Osterfield X Reader
I Wasn’t Ready To Say Goodbye:
Peter Parker X Loki!Daughter! Reader
Tom Holland X Reader
We Are Not The Same, And Never Will Be: (This one has three because why not)
Tom Holland X Reader
Harrison Osterfield X Reader
Spider-Man/Peter Parker X Reader
If there are any of these prompts that you want me to write about specifically for you or something you would want to read send me a message I would be happy to write about anything!
Enjoy these! I will try to update each prompt once a week!
Summary: After the heated exchange at school, Peter goes to Flash’s party to see you and things get hot and heavy.
Notes: CHARACTERS ARE 18++ and im still trying to get the hang of tumblr :( i think i tagged pt 1 properly so get check it out :)) it was a hit so i wanted to make another part, maybe there will be more ;) let me know! SEND REQUESTS!
Warnings: smut!!!
pt. 1
You sighed in boredom as the front door closed, instantly rising off of the large couch and trudging towards the kitchen. Flash could be heard on the phone while you poured yourself a glass of lemonade, climbing onto kitchen island and scrolling through your phone. All at once, your phone was flooded with texts. You furrowed your eyebrows, pressing on each one as you sipped your lemonade.
‘What should I wear?’
‘Yo! Is there alcohol?’
‘Byob?’
‘Send me the addy, I didn’t ss it.’
‘Is there gonna be food?!?!?!!!!’
You heard Flash enter the kitchen, his fingers tapping away at his phone’s keyboard. You glared at him, crossing your arms immediately. “Eugene, do you have something to tell me?” You said harshly. Your step-brother ignored your tone, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a box of beer. Your eyes widened, instantly chucking the empty carton of lemonade at Flash. He yelled in annoyance, throwing it back to you. “Are you throwing a party?” You ask.
“What’s it to you? You’re not invited.” Flash spat back, pushing your shoulder to get off of the island. You did, watching him spread out bottles of alcohol and bags of chips onto the marble counter.
“It’s my house too.” You snapped, “Mom and dad are out for literally two days and this is what you do?” You watched him continue to walk past you and set up red solo cups. “Hello!” You exclaimed. Brothers could be dicks, many were gifted with sweet ones but you had been burdened with Flash. He wasn’t a complete pain, he always had your back and was very protective of you but he was also incredibly insensitive. You grew used to it, learning it was better than being an only child sometimes.
“Invite your dumb friends! I don’t care. Hot girls only.” Flash rolled his eyes, ignoring your stomps as you fled to your bedroom. You slammed the door closed dramatically, squealing in excitement after a few minutes and desperately searching your closet for what to wear. Your step-brother was known for having notorious parties, you hadn’t attended one in a while and had to admit you were eager to dance and drink a bit. You settled on a tight red dress, one that was casual yet party-ish. Flash wasn’t a big fan, but he had already downed a beer so he had loosened up. You texted friends while helping Flash set up the house, putting cars in garages, placing important vases into your parents bedroom. The party would commence in thirty minutes and you had finally gotten time to do your makeup. It consisted of mascara and lip gloss before fixing up your hair. You looked over at your phone as you heard the doorbell start to ring, people were arriving. You looked over at your backpack that sat by your bedroom door and thought back to a few weeks back in school. The time with Peter Parker, chemistry project gone wild, you hadn’t done much speaking to him since. You bit your lip as a thought crossed your mind, you grabbed your phone and instantly shot a text to Betty Brant. You both weren’t exactly friends, she was well-known, you were well-known. In a matter of minutes, you had gotten exactly what you wanted. Peter Parker’s phone number. You sent him the obnoxious party flyer that Flash had made on an app, insisting he should come. Peter hadn’t replied which made you a little upset, but you attempted to not overthink and join the party.
You grinned at the set-up, Flash had brought out speakers and was already blasting music. It wasn’t too shitty, you made some requests and helped him tweak his ‘DJ Flash’ persona, he was getting better. There were even flashing lights, people already crowding the house with red solo cups in hands. You found yourself a beer, popping it open and taking soft sip; you were to be the chaperone. You danced with friends, watched people jump into your backyard pool, you made sure the neighbors weren’t being too bothered. You kept yourself busy, one beer turning into three - enough to keep you buzzed yet alert. An hour into the party, you locked yourself away in your bedroom. You simply wanted a time-out, to scroll through your phone and lay down. Swiping out of Instagram, you found yourself searching for Peter Parker’s response only to find that he still hadn’t replied. ‘READ AT 9:32 PM.’ You sighed out in annoyance. The other day at school must’ve meant nothing, maybe you hadn’t made yourself clear, maybe he simply thought it was a one time thing and you clearly weren’t interested. But you were, you wanted to see him again. It wasn’t just the light amount of alcohol in your system, you were still sober. You liked Peter, a lot — and you liked him sexually too, he probably didn’t feel the same way. That had to be it. You were buried into your pillows, still scrolling through your phone before your bedroom door opened. The music that had been blasting downstairs seeped through, instantly causing you to groan.
“This room’s off limits. Find somewhere else to fuck.” You turned over and instantly sat up at the sight of Peter Parker, you fixed your hair, pulled down your dress. “Oh - hey!” You smiled.
“H-Hey, can I come in?” Peter asked softly, your smile grew wider as you nodded. He shut the door behind him, awkwardly walking and standing in front of your bed. “I heard about the party, a-and saw your text so I figured I’d swing by.” His eyes widened, “Not swing by! That’s crazy. I mean - my aunt dropped Ned and I off.” He cleared his throat.
You laughed at him, a rose tint covering his cheeks in embarrassment. “I understand.” You bit your lip, you noticed he hadn’t moved, anxiety in both of your systems. You crawled towards the end of the bed, waving Peter to sit by you. Your legs hung over the end, hands placed on your thighs as he took his seat. “Peter, about the other day - “ You noticed disappointment flash over his eyes, “I really liked it.” He instantly lit up, eyebrows raising. “I don’t know what came over me, that’s not usually how people tell their crushes they like them but - “
“I’m your crush?” Peter blurted out, his lips parted in shock. You twisted your lips and nodded, “You like me?” You nodded again, instantly feeling the urge to just run to your closet and hide, but you pushed forward and rested your hand on his thigh.
It was silent, it was making you nervous. Was Peter thinking about what to say? Obviously because he wasn’t into you. You mentally scoffed at yourself, you were you, of course he was into you! You smirked, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. Peter’s hands flew to your waist, feeling you crawl onto him and hover over. Your hands rested on his shoulders, knees buried into the bed as you sat on his lap. Your kiss deepened, his tongue easily playing with yours. He bit down on your bottom lip softly causing you to moan quietly. Just from the make-out session, from his hands running up and down your waist and back, you were soaking wet.
Peter stood to his feet, your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed down your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, soft whimpers leaving your plump pink lips. The wall was pressed against your back, your arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed down your collarbones towards the valley of your breasts. Your breathing was heavy, you took it upon yourself to pull up the bottom of your dress and pull down the top of your breasts. He admired your chest, pulling you up higher to take one nipple into his mouth. You groaned, arching your back as his warm wet mouth engulfed the sensitive bud. Peter set you down, your hands instantly going to his pants. You unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning them and yanking his pants down with his boxers. His length hit your stomach causing you to bite down on your bottom lip, eager to have his cock fill you up. You slid down the wall, your tongue taking a bold stripe up his shift. He gasped from above you, his hands instantly balling into tight fists. Peter hadn’t done anything like this before, the closest he had gotten with a girl was kissing; a bit of ass-grabbing. You, on the other hand, were somewhat experienced; but still a virgin. You intended on keeping it that way, despite your dripping pussy begging you to consider otherwise.
“Fuck, Y/N.” Peter stammered out, his hands unsure of where to go. You took his hard dick into your mouth, taking your hands into his and leading them to hold up your hair. He bit down his lip as he looked down at you, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It was a sight he surely would never forget. Your eyes locked onto his face, watching his face twist in pleasure as you looked up at him innocently. Your tongue focused on the tip of his length, swirling around it and hollowing your cheeks. You used one hand to jerk what you couldn’t take, his hips bucking. You gagged on his thick cock, stopping for air and wiping your lips. Peter instantly apologized, embarrassed for getting carried away. You giggled in response, kitten-licking his tip after reassuring him that all was well. You sucked softly, your spit dribbling down his shaft and down your chin. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, his fingers gripping your hair tighter, pulling you in a bit closer. “I’m gonna come.” He whined out, Peter felt your hands trail from his cock to your wet pussy. Your fingers found your clit, rubbing it roughly while you continued to focus on helping Peter reach his climax. The eager boy began to thrust in your mouth, which you didn’t seem to mind at all. He groaned out, his eyes shutting tightly as he came into your mouth. You released him with a pop, sticking your tongue out jokingly to expose his release. Peter watched you swallow, instantly biting his lip at the sight.
“How was that?” You asked with a grin, wiping your mouth. Peter barely responded before he pulled you to your feet. You both moved to the front of your bedroom door, your hand gripping the doorknob for support. His lips found your swollen ones, his hands kneading your breasts. He peeled off your underwear with his lips still on yours. You felt him place his hands on your hips before he muttered for you to jump. You did as told, ready to wrap your legs around him only to be brought up higher. You squealed in response, his hands holding you up as you pressed your hands into the ceiling. “What are you doing?” You laughed, looking down to see him eyeing your wet pussy.
“Returning the favor.” Peter smiled at you, his hands held your hips tightly.
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss onto your swollen clit. You moaned in response, your hands still touching the ceiling. He licked it lightly before swiping his tongue up and down. A cry left your lips at the feeling, Peter soon licking back up to your clit and wrapping his lips around it. He sucked lightly, his tongue still playing with the bundle of nerves. Your hands flew from the ceiling to his soft brown curls, tugging on them in encouragement. Your eyes rolled as his tongue flattened, you took the opportunity to grind down. Your body shook above him, your fingers still tangled in his hair, you didn’t want him to stop. It was almost like you were seeing stars, the building orgasm in your core was ready to burst. His tongue was doing wonders and you didn’t know how much longer you would last. Peter held you up with one hand, you weren’t sure where the strength was coming from but you didn’t care. His other hand trailed down your thigh before his fingers made their way inside of you, a louder cry leaving your lips. It was a gentle yet quick gesture, he looked up at you, making sure you were okay. The sight he saw was gorgeous, your back arched while your lips parted, sweat glistening across your body. His cock was harder than ever, even after the mind-blowing orgasm you had given him. He felt your fingers yank at his hair harder, your hips bucking, your moans growing louder.
“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” You panted, your eyes rolling as you bursted. You felt a bliss, pleasure coursing through your veins as your orgasm washed over you. You shook in his arms, his tongue and sucking becoming lighter as you relaxed in his arms. “Oh my god, Peter.” You moaned softly, a smile spread across your face as he pulled back. Peter’s big brown eyes gazed up at you, returning the smile as you caught your breath. Suddenly, the door began to open. You gasped, pushing your back further in and Peter’s hand quickly shutting it. “Um - who is it?” You shouted, mouthing at Peter to let you down.
Peter did as told, bringing you down and setting you on your two feet. You used one hand to lock the door while the other adjusted your dress. The brown haired boy beside you scrambled to dress himself, his eyes wide. You fixed your hair and wiped your mouth before shoving Peter away from the door. You unlocked it and cracked it open, sticking half of your body out. You instantly grinned at Flash who glared at you, arms crossed. “What do you want?” You asked, clearing your throat.
“I need your help, neighbors called the cops. Someone saw them. Get everyone the fuck out of here!” Flash insisted, he gestured for you to hurry up.
“Oh uh - shit! Okay.” You nodded, “Let me put on some shoes.” You held up a finger before scrambling back into your room and locking the door.
Peter stared at you, “What do I do?” He asks quietly. The music was now off, Flash was sitting at your door. You pulled on your shoes, looking around for answers. The doorknob rattled again, you quickly pushed Peter, pointing towards underneath your bed. He understood, quickly scrambling to hide himself.
You rushed back to the door, opening it before Flash stormed in. “Mom and dad!” He pointed to his phone, you shut the door behind him. Your step-brother answered the phone, a fake grin plastered on his face as he spoke. He sat on your bed, laying down as your parents checked up. You felt nerves in your stomach, you felt like throwing up. “Yeah, everything’s fine. We’re watching a movie and we’re gonna head to bed, right Y/N?” Flash looked at you.
“Oh yeah! Totally - everything’s cool here.” You answered quickly, running a shaky hand through your hair. After a few minutes, your parents hung up. “Okay, go and tell everyone to get the fuck out. I’m gonna talk to the neighbors.” Flash inspected you carefully before standing up and nodding, he headed towards the door. He stopped in his tracks, his face scrunching up in disgust as he looked at the floor. “W-What?” You asked anxiously, looking at him with wide eyes.
“I thought girls rooms are suppose to be clean.” He pointed at your discarded panties on the floor, Flash rolled his eyes before leaving.
You sighed out in relief, locking the door behind him. “You can come out,” You mumbled before watching Peter crawl out. A light-hearted laugh left your lips, he rolled his eyes at you as he walked over. Peter kissed you gently, his thumb pressed against your cheek. “Thank you for tonight.” You muttered on his lips, he pulled back and thanked you in return.
“I gotta go.” Peter reminded you, his hands on your hips. You both clearly didn’t want to be separated but he had to leave. He reached for the door before you pulled him back.
“No! Flash will see you.” You argued, Peter looked at you in confusion. “Um - “ You thought to yourself, turning and looking at the window. “It’s not a far jump.” You smiled nervously.
“Y/N,” Peter whines before sighing and trudging toward the window. He opened it, peering down and glaring at you jokingly in response.
“I’ll see you again, right?” You asked softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. You ran your hands down your dress, bouncing on your feet.
Peter nodded, a smile on his sweet face. “Yeah.” You enjoyed tonight, it wasn’t just about the touching and being with him physically. You genuinely had feelings for Peter Parker, you wanted to see him again. You wanted more than this too, but until that comes, this would be fine.
You kissed him again, hands pressed against his cheeks before you heard your door rattle again. Your eyes widened as you ushered him to jump out. Peter nodded, watching the door open and quickly jumping out of view. You whipped your head, quickly closing your window and grimacing at Flash.
“Well, are you coming?” He shouted in an annoyed tone.
“I’m coming, jeez!” You exclaimed, rushing past him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 13/?
Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Norman Osborn/Peter Parker, Norman Osborn & Peter Parker
Characters: Norman Osborn, Peter Parker, Liz Allan (Marvel), Harry Osborn, Green Goblin, Normie Osborn, Kindred - Character, Stanley Osborn, J. Jonah Jameson, Norah Winters, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Curt Connors, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Otto Octavius
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Childhood Trauma, Trauma, Grief/Mourning, Past Abuse, Abusive Parents, Verbal Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Loneliness, Redemption, Regret, Ghosts, Age Difference, Self-Hatred, Violence, Past Character Death, Self-Destruction, Alcohol, Minor Violence, Explosions, Crime Fighting, Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Slow Burn, Internalized Homophobia
Series: Part 1 of Gold Goblin
Summary:
Norman Osborn was considered the most evil and demented man in existence, "Was" being a keyword. Now that his sins are cleansed, he struggles with mental illness, the ghosts of his past indiscretions and solitude. No one wants to be alone, not even Norman. Peter Parker has made it clear he will keep an eye on Norman, but if he slips up even once, it's all over for him. How can he recover when no one will give him a chance to improve? Is it the destiny of the damned to live alone and full of regret?
Everyone says they love a redemption story, but no one wants to see him try. Yet Norman persists and maybe, just maybe someone will believe he can change for the better.
Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Hands down this was my favorite part of the comic. The introduction of Venom. ••• ••• ••• #ibispaint #comicfanart #spidermanfanart #spidermanfanfic #venom #marvelcomics #marvelfanart #comicartist #dopeart #colorfulartwork #digitalcomicart #instaartist #newschoolart #digitalcolorist #digitalsketches #marvelvenom #explorepage #discoverart #newartist #comicbookart #comicnerd #spiderverse #superhero #superheroes (at 池田町) https://www.instagram.com/p/CA5FqAvBaWG/?igshid=423jl6gqvltb
