cw. fluff, established relationship, reader is described as a ‘weird girl’ who has a huge obsession with insects and such.
author’s note: this is a part two of miss ladybug! so i suggest reading that first. i really like this pairing and i enjoy writing for them, my requests for peter are still open if you’d like to share some of your ideas 🙃🙃 special dedication to @ghostlyfleur btw <3
edit: part one | part three
peter parker isn’t as mysterious as he thinks he is. to most peers, he’s just another nerd who runs the photography team like it’s an elite competition— and obviously, he is winning it. he has messy hair that eerily resembles a squirrel’s tail, glasses that seem a bit to big for him, a skateboard that he always carries, and a stupid smile that now melts you like ice cream.
not to mention his sweet dimples. sometimes you see him as a helpless little millipede on the side of the road after a stormy day, that captures peter’s entire essence very well to you.
and that’s exactly what he looks like in your eyes as of now— hair wet, glasses broken in his hand, he has lost his skateboard somehow, and he’s still smiling like an absolute dork outside of your door.
“hi, ladybug— could you let me in, please?” peter smiles, teeth shining.
you move to the side, gesturing him to step inside. his hair is covering most of his forehead but you can’t help but notice a sting of red near his left side. you sigh, “you know, you look like the tarantula i lost in eight grade.”
peter’s ears perk up, “a tarantula?”
you nod, “mhm. it’s cold here, my room’s warmer.”
indeed it was. the room was lit only by fairy lights and two tiffany lamps. it wasn’t dark— it’s cozy. books are scattered around your desk, there were multiple posters up of insect anatomy, framed beetles & butterflies, and a lot of patterned-blankets.
“are you okay?”
he nods. you don’t really buy that, “you should probably move your hair to the right side, you don’t want it touching the wound you have on your left side.”
peter stands still, “what? i don’t— i don’t have a wound..”
“peter, i can see the red under your hair. the blood’s running down your skull— it’s probably mixed with rain water now and you should get that cleaned like right now!”
you pout, “what did you do now? and don’t say it’s because of your skateboard again ‘cos you don’t even have it right now!”
he thinks for a second. “i’m sorry, ladybug. but, before i answer that question could i ask one first?”
“what are you—”
“would you still love me if i was a spider? maybe like your eight grade tarantula?” he shrugs,
“huh? yes? yes. i’d still love you if you were a spider, peter parker. even if you were my eight grade tarantula that i lost and mourned for. now, what does that have to do with anything?”
peter hesitates, “i need you to sit down,”
“you’re scaring me,”
“it’s not as scary as you think.”
“is that suppose to reassure me?”
he nods before exhaling quite dramatically, “ladybug, i’m spider-man. that’s why my skull is bleeding red, why my skateboard is gone, and why i show up with scars snd bruises. and that’s also why i ask for you to accompany me to get ice packs.”
you sigh, in relief.
“i knew it.”
“what?”
“i called it!” you giggle. peter looks at you in disbelief, or confusion, or both.
“how— do you just know everything?”
“that’s why you always freak out when i call you spider-man. and maybe that’s how you got your name in the first place, if so, i want credit for it. and also, it’s kinda obvious..”
peter furrows his brows.
“you’re always on delivered when spider-man is reported to be on patrol. the day after the computer lab i did research on my device as it just finished getting repaired, and i sort of found a lot—”
peter blinks, “so, you do know everything.”
“i have my ways.”
“what are you? miraculous the ladybug?”
“i guess you’re not the only one with a secret identity then.”
Pairing: tasm! Peter Parker x fem! Reader/ Spider-Man x fem! Reader
Word count: 3k
Summary: Your first ever valentine's date as a couple goes haywire when spidey duties interrupt.
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), Reader has nicknames, CW food mentions, CW injury mention, established relationship, lovestruck! Peter, best friends to lovers/ childhood friends to lovers, fluff.
Requested by @yumeaoka-chan - Let's see. A Valentine's Day request for Peter Parker, please. Andrew Garfield's version, of course🤭💕It's your first Valentine's as a couple and Peter has planned this day/night out to a tee. Whatever he has planned can be up to you. However, nothing is going how he wants it to go, interruptions and accidents happening all throughout it. He's all upset and chastising himself, apologizing to you when you really don't mind it. You thought everything was going perfectly, just enjoying being with him. Something along the lines of that🤭💕
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“Pete?” You call out groggily from the bed, eyes scrunched up to look at the darkened silhouette by the door as you lean on the nightstand and click on the lamp.
Peter walks into the light, revealing his signature Parker smile while he carries a full tray of clinking dishes. The room is dark thanks to the blackout curtains that he gifted you a few months ago after briefly complaining about the sun shining right on your eyes at the crack of dawn. Of course he can't let the love of his life suffer.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” He winces, socked feet padding on the carpet as he makes his way towards you. “This was supposed to be a surprise.”
“I thought you were my sleep paralysis demon.” Peter chuckles as you sit up. You give him your best smile even though sleep still clings to your lashes. “Surprise?”
Peter lays the tray carefully over your lap, revealing breakfast dishes that consist of fresh fruits that's drizzled in condensed milk. A hearty stack of waffles with whipped cream and honey, a cup of coffee, a glass of orange juice and a croissant. A long stemmed rose sits right next to the glass, you feel like soaring. Especially when he gives you a wobbly smile.
He expects you to grab the rose or a spoon, but you reach over the tray to grasp at his face, quickly placing a kiss on his lips. It takes him aback for a few seconds, but he quickly reciprocates, brown eyes closed, humming as you feel him smile against the lips.
The two of you part with a resounding smack, but your eyes never leave the lovestruck look on his face. “Happy Valentine's day, Peter. You already got me beat.”
“It's not a competition,” he shrugs, doing his best not to topple over the tray. “I'm winning though.”
Chuckling, you give him one last smooch on each of his cheeks, tip of his nose, temple and forehead. Which was not the last of it as you come back and chase his lips again to press a sweet kiss.
“You are, I'll get you soon.”
“Don't threaten me with a good time, honey.” Before you pull away, he takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Eat, I wanna see the absolute bliss on your face when you take a bite.”
“Where’s yours?” You ask as you pick up a fork.
“I already ate.” He says, nose scrunched up.
“You ate all the duds, huh?”
He nods, guilty.
You hum, grinning at him as you take a bite. Sure enough you showed him absolute bliss.
—
Peter helps you put on your coat as if you need help. But you let him, how could you not when he stares at you with those big puppy eyes of his?
“So, first Valentine's together, what do you want to do?” His warm palms close the buttons on your coat, and tucking in your pretty red scarf inside the collar. “I've got something planned for tonight, so we kinda have to wait for it.” Looking at you through his lashes, Peter seems apologetic even though you're staring at him with so much love.
“I know it's cold, Pete, but how about a nice walk around central park to start off?” You nervously say as your fingers play with his coat sleeve.
“Where we had our first date?” You nod, biting your lip. “And here I thought I'm the romantic one.”
“Just trying to one up you, Parker.” Giggling, you tie his scarf nicely, noticing that it's in the same shade as yours. He watches you with shining eyes, hands already on your waist. “We can stop by the same coffee stand, and get pretzels after. Only if you want to.”
“You could tell me we're going on a trip to the raft and I'll still say yes.”
You pat his chest with both palms, and he resists the urge to kiss you breathlessly in the small apartment hallway. “The raft? I don't think they let civilians have tours there. Why, you got friends there?” You joke.
“They should,” he chuckles out, not even completing his own joke. “There's probably good money in there— they actually shouldn't. That— that would be horrible.” He cracks, cringing at his attempt at a joke. His head falls on your shoulder as you laugh and hold the back of his neck. “Sorry, just…nervous.”
“Why? It's just me.” You mumble against his temple, lips brushing along his warm skin.
“I know! That's why.” Lifting his head up, Peter lets out a groan. “I just want it to be perfect. It's for you and you deserve perfection.”
“Oh,” cradling his face, you pout at his pout, while your index tucks a hair strand away from his face. “This…” You tap your foot on the wooden floorboards. “This is already perfect, Peter. Anywhere with you is perfect for me. Whether we're shitting on a terrible movie or out and about around the city, it's perfect.”
Peter sighs, wondering what he did in his past life to have this kind of life. “So you don't want your gift?”
You blow raspberries, rolling your eyes as your arms loop over his neck. “Of course I want my gift.”
Chuckling, Peter pulls you in by your scarf, careful of his own strength and kisses you right on his doorstep.
—
You made Peter wait on a bench while you buy a couple of hot steaming cups of mediocre coffee. He watches your back as snow slowly drifts down in tiny specks of snowflakes. You chuckle at something the old vendor said, and he smiles at how your smile lights up the whole park.
As he waits, he shifts in his seat. The spandex inside his clothes are uncomfortable as it clings to his skin. He knows he can't really leave his alter ego behind, but not even crime has holidays off. Sometimes he wishes it does though.
“Hey,” you beam at him, handing him a styrofoam cup. “Drink it quickly before it freezes.” Shivering, smoke billows out from your lips as you breathe.
Peter mirrors your smile, taking the cup from you as he pats the space next to him for you. He even wiped away the snow just for you.
“Thanks, gorgeous.”
“You're welcome, handsome.” Nudging his shoulder, you watch him drink over the rim of your cup as you take a hearty sip.
“What?” He notices your eyes on him, making him scooch closer to you. “Something on my handsome face?”
“And here I thought you're perceptive.”
Peter knits his brows together while you move your eyes down to his cup. He follows your line of sight, finding your unmistakable handwriting on the cup. His guffaw echoes out in the park, bouncing around the white powdery snow.
“It's a riddle.” He excitedly says, tone higher than usual. “With a warm cup you take a sip, but here I am cold as a statue on a winter’s day.” Making a face, he turns to you. “Is this your way of saying that you're freezing, babe?”
You take his cheek, leaving a kiss mark on the other after pressing a chaste kiss that has his legs wobbly. Good thing he's sitting down.
“Genius, it's for the next destination.”
“You—” he blinks, shock and awe evident on his face. “It's a treasure hunt?” Placing the cup on the bench, he twists in his seat and grasps at your cheeks, squishing it together. “Have I told you that I love you?”
“Numerous times before but I'd love to hear it again.” You say, muffled as he puckers your lips together, lips that he leaves an affectionate kiss on that lingers for a moment. Smiling and giggling, he places his arm around your shoulder. “So what's your answer?”
“Easy, the museum. It's where we bumped into each other after not seeing each other since graduation.”
You pat his chest for a job well done. “Correct, and here I thought I made it vague enough.”
“Please, I—” his senses go off as a resounding crash can be heard a few miles away.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I…” he sighs, defeated. “Would it be an asshole move if I leave right now?”
“Call of nature or…” you change your tone into a whisper. “... Spider-Man duties? Either way, not an asshole move.”
“The latter, babe.” Peter's shoulders slumps visibly. “I'll be back I promise.”
You nod, understanding completely. “I'll wait for you at the museum, okay?” Before he reluctantly stands up, you grasp his wrist. “Be careful please.”
With one last kiss on your temple, he rushes out of the park.
—
“Shit, shit, shit!” Peter bolts out of an alleyway and into a busy street, dodging cars and trucks while his shoe laces are still undone. “Fuck.” Almost slipping on a sheet of ice, he finally sees you beneath a lion statue in front of the museum. He expertly balances himself as snow crunches underfoot.
Your scrunched up face lights up when you see him. Waving him over, he runs to you, arms wrapping around you as he crashes against your form. His hands brace your back from smacking on the statue.
He heaves atop the crook of your neck, lashes fluttering close as he breathes you in. “I made it.”
Wrapping him in your arms, you hold him close. “You did. Are you okay? Nothing damaged?”
Peter lifts his head up as he fixes the scarf on your neck. “I'm fine,” he exhales deeply, now smiling through the ache on his ankle. “Barely broke a sweat.”
You sigh in relief. “Thank goodness.” Fixing his coat collar that his red suit peeks underneath from, you grin up at him. “If you're too tired we can go home.”
“And miss the treasure hunt? No way.” Reaching over you, he plucks a hefty gift box from the stone lion's mouth. “Besides, the presents might get stolen.”
Biting your lip, you watch as he shakes the present. “Open it before I burst a nervous vein.”
Peter chuckles, giving you a quick peck on your cheek before carefully unwrapping the gift. “You little shit.” His eyes are wide and a grin plays on his lips.
“I know, I'm good.”
He takes out the book from the box, revealing a first edition of the hobbit book. “Where in the hell did you get this?”
“I know a guy.” You shrug.
“It's Ned, right?”
“Yeah, it's Ned. I had to pry it off his hands after he found it for me.”
Opening his arms for a hug, you immediately place yourself in between, embracing him back as you lay your head on his clavicle. He kisses the top of your head with a resounding smack.
“Thank you, this is amazing.” He squeezes you. “You're amazing.”
“No, you are, Pete.” You peek over his arms, gazing at him with softness in your eyes. “I heard you saved a bunch of people on the subway.”
“I'm the latest gossip now?” Smiling, he pecks the tip of your nose.
“Yeah, the talk of the town.” Poking his side, earning a chuckle from him, you kiss his chin before reluctantly letting go lest you get a ticket for PDA. “Check page 164.”
Peter laughs, akin to a giggle as he opens the book to the page. He finds a pink sticky note with doodles of him and you in full tolkien regalia. Right next to it Is the next clue.
“Where boundless knowledge lies but where love most thrives.” He reads aloud, heart feeling like it's beating out of his chest. “It's our highschool.”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum, hand wrapped around his scarf as you play with the frayed edges. “I thought it would be fun to go where it all started.”
“Where the pining started?” He teases, taking your hand to hold it instead, letting his warmth soothe you.
“Yes, where the pining started.” You giggle as he embraces you again, swaying you to the imaginary music and the sounds of the city. “I love you, Pete, ever since the day I accidentally knocked off your glasses after you protected me from Flash. And way before I knew my eighth grade crush wasn't just a crush.”
Peter feels like he's about to burst into tears right in the middle of a busy New York street.
“I—” before he could say all the sweet words that have been in his chest since you punched Flash on his smug face, numerous sirens go off as police cars and fire trucks dash further into downtown. Once again, his senses go off. “Shit.” He turns to you and you're already nodding at him.
“Go, I'll meet you there.”
“I'm so sorry.” Peppers your face with kisses until you're smiling again. “I really am, I— I love you too, so much and I'll tell you some Shakespearean shit later but I have to do this first, okay?”
Chuckling, you kiss his calloused knuckles before he sprints off. You could only hope that he's going to be okay as you hold the book against your chest.
—
The cold nips at the tip of your nose as you wait outside by the old school. Snow gathers near your feet as the temperature drops down further into the negatives, teeth chattering cold. Shivering, you tuck yourself into the awning by the window, coat bundled up and tightening the scarf around your neck. You'd come inside the school but it's closed and even if it is open, it would probably be trespassing since you graduated years ago.
Trembling, you check your watch. As the hand ticks by, you feel icicles forming in your lashes. You're debating whether you should go home or not since you've been waiting for more than an hour now. But you can't do that to Peter. It'll break his heart if he doesn't see you in the meeting place. Why did it have to snow in New York after three years of not having any?
As you kick snow and watch it roll away, you hear your name getting called from above.
Peter, still in his Spider-Man suit, swings quickly towards you. His red and blue form landing down on the soft snow expertly.
“Oh fuck, I'm so sorry!” He jogs towards you, hugging you as he feels how cold and stiff you are. Rubbing your arms and back, he desperately tries to warm you up. “I'm sorry, god, you're frozen.”
“S–Still P–Pretty though, right?” You give him a small smile as you tremble through your words.
“Yes, still gorgeous.” He says with urgency. “I need to warm you up, okay?”
“R–Right here? That's i–illegal, Pete.” Despite the impending frostbite, you still manage to crack a joke.
Peter holds your face, palms warming you up. Smiling apologetically, he holds you close. “I'm going to get you home, we'll have hot cocoa and watch shitty television.”
“How— what about your gift?”
“Babe, you're a popsicle right now. I'll get it later, I promise.” He says as he lifts you up and readies to swing away.
“I–I have it.” You whisper, smoke billowing out from your dry lips. “Good t–thing this is the last one.” Patting your front coat pocket, you beam at him as he bundles you in his arm.
“I'll open it later,” your brows knit together. “I promise, after you get warm I'll open it immediately.”
You nod and he swings away quickly like he's after the Vulture himself.
—
“I was supposed to leave it on top of the flagpole for you.” You murmur against his stomach as you lay on his lap, all bundled up in blankets and warm clothes as the portable heater whirrs in the background.
“And how would you do that, hm?” He lowers the volume to the TV as his hands rub along your arm.
“I know a guy.”
“Yeah, me, I'm the guy.” He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. “Do you want more hot chocolate?”
“No, thank you. I want you to stay.” You shake your head, nuzzling his stomach lovingly.
“Okay.” Chuckling, you can feel that he's holding onto something in his genius head of his. “I’m sorry that our date didn't go as planned.” Laying his head on the top of the couch, he gazes down at you with love. “I promise you I rescheduled the reservation for next week. Then we can continue Valentine's day.” He sighs, clearly guilty. “Even if it's done already, we can— we can continue it, right?”
“Valentine's day part two.” You wiggle your hands behind his back, embracing him in an awkward angle but with affection nonetheless. “You really don't have to worry, Pete, I had fun doing all the riddles. And I knew that something like this could happen so I only made three.”
“How many were you originally planning?”
“Fifteen.” His eyes widened. “Maybe for next year, babe.” Biting your lip, you reach up to hold his cheek, reassuring him more. “Did you like them?”
Peter wiggles the simple silver bracelet on his wrist as he eyes the book on the coffee table. “I loved it all, thank you. The initials engraved on it was a cute touch.”
“Really? I thought it would be too much.”
“You're never too much.” He softly says, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “Please tell me when I make you unhappy.”
“I will, but I don't think you can ever make me feel unhappy. Not on purpose anyway.”
“That's impossible.”
You shake your head as you gently push his head down towards you. Peter lets you, noses bumping against one another. “I've known you since we were eating glue, trust me, I know, Peter.”
“So you're happy?” You nod, brushing your lips on top of his, a clear invitation for him to kiss you. “I didn't even get you flowers. I was supposed to, and chocolates and open the door for you and order dessert that's too expensive. Shit, we were supposed to go ice skating— and, I'll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You can buy me flowers and chocolates and do all that on Valentine's day part two.”
Peter finally kisses you, silently promising to give you that and more.
SUMMARY: You are dating Harry Osborn, the guy your dad forbade you from interacting or relating to in any form or way, but after hearing a conversation of Peter, he knew you’ve been lying to him.
GENRE: Fluff
WARNINGS: Swearing. A little bit suggestive (if you really squint). All characters (Peter, Harry, and Y/n) are 24 years old.
WORD COUNT: 1.9k words
NOTE: Just ignore the fact these characters are from 2 different universes. Enjoy!
Harry Osborn managed to steal your heart. You don’t really know when or how, but you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Osborn heir. He was smart, a gentleman, sweet (with you, of course), and he was also such a good friend to Peter, who’s basically your brother after your father took him under his wing all those years ago.
You could say your life was great, more than perfect if you ignore the fact that your father despises everything involved with Norman Osborn, which, of course, includes his son.
He was pretty vocal when he found out you and Peter went to the same college as Harry and basically forbade you to get near him, knowing damn well - thanks to Peter- that Harry had a thing for you. But would you really be your father’s daughter if you followed his rules? Or any rules? You’re a Stark, after all.
The plan was simple: hide from your father that you and Harry started dating at college, and once you lived on your own, make a name for yourself, and stop living with your parents, tell him about your relationship. But with Tony Stark as your dad, things don’t usually go your way, but his.
Peter, of course, knew. He was not only your best friend but Harry’s, and you literally spent all your college years with him, so hiding this from him felt wrong. The night he found out, he promised he wouldn’t say anything to your father, as he was able to tell that you really meant something to Harry. The way he looked at you was the same way he looked at Gwen, and the way you always spoke about Harry was enough for Peter to understand that you two weren’t fooling around. He was happy that you finally met someone who loved you (romantically) for what you were and not for being Tony Stark’s daughter.
You always made sure to be careful. Never sneaking out to see Harry when you were home, making sure nobody was home if you wanted to talk to him via phone. At first, it was easy. With you being at college, your father basically had little contact or knowledge about your personal life, normally more interested in your academic life. But after you graduated and returned home, it became harder to hide and/or lie to your father. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were hiding something, but he couldn’t really come up with what you were hiding.
Until one night, when he, by mistake, heard a little conversation Peter was having.
“Dude, I promise I will tell her you want to see her, but not now, not until Mr. Stark leaves.” Tony didn’t know who Peter was talking to, but knew he was talking about you. So that’s what you were hiding, a boy? Why didn't you tell him? You’ve always been so open to him that this kinda hurts.
“Yes, Harry, god, you can be a pain in the ass, you know. And by the way, why are you asking me to see her instead of, I don’t know, sending your girlfriend a message?” And that’s when he understood. You were hiding it from him because you were dating Harry fucking Osborn. He didn’t know what hurt him the most, you not trusting enough in him to tell him you already had a partner or the fact that you were dating an Osborn.
“Of course she did. Fine, I will let you know once Mr. Stark leaves so you can come and see her. Just be careful.” Peter hung up and sighed. He didn’t really like to hide and lie to your father, but you’ve been so happy with Harry for years now that he couldn’t help but do it for your happiness.
Tony made sure Peter left the compound’s main area to come out of the shadows. He couldn’t believe his own blood; his sweet girl had been lying to him.
As the hours passed, he knew he had to make you tell him the truth. But how?
“Kiddo, I’m leaving. Are you sure you don’t wanna come? Morgan would love to see you and have you for a weekend.”
“I’m sure, Dad, I still have some stuff to do here, but I will go on Sunday, I miss Morgan and Pepper too.” you smiled. God, you were really good at lying or, well, hiding stuff from him.
“Fine, don’t overwork yourself. Love you.”
“Love you, Dad.” He kissed your temple and made his way to the compound’s main entrance. After your dad left, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You really wanted to tell your father you were dating someone. He was like your best friend. Yes, he was your dad, but he always made sure that you knew you could always count on him and trust him since you were little. It hurts to hide him the other most important part of your life.
“How’s my beautiful girl?” you heard Harry say as he made his way to the couch. He embraced you in a hug, and you swear you could die just there. His hugs always made you feel safe.
“I'm good.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I’m just thinking.”
“About..?” Harry made himself comfortable laying next to you, and you rested your head on his chest.
“I hate lying to my dad.” Harry started playing with your hair. He knew what you meant. You didn’t even wait for him to answer when you spoke again. “By the way, how did you know my dad was gone?”
“Well, Peter is such a good wingman.” you laughed. “Here’s your phone. You left it in my car this morning.” Harry took your phone from his jean’s left pocket and handed it to you.
“God, thanks. I thought I lost it. What would I do without you?” you kissed his neck since it was the closest part of him. You felt his breathing hitch.
“If this is going to be my reward every time you lose something, I’m going to start hiding things from you and act like you lost them.”
“Shut up, Osborn.” he chuckled. You continued kissing him, slowly making your way to his mouth.
“God, I’m so in love with you,” you whispered, and Harry smiled. Harry was going to answer you, but something, more like someone, interrupted him.
“Well, look what we got here.” Fuck. Please be Peter, please be Peter.
Of course, it wasn’t Peter, but a girl can dream.
You quickly sat down, trying to look as less guilty as possible, and so did Harry.
“Dad. I… I thought you were going home. What are you doing here?” you cleared your throat.
“I have a better one. What is he doing here?” he pointed at Harry. Fuck this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
“Uhm… Dad, this is-”
“I know who he is. I don’t understand why he is here with you.” You could see your dad started to turn into a tomato, which under other circumstances was funny, but right now, you just wish this wasn’t happening. If the universe loved you, you would just disappear.
“Harry Osborn, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Harry gave his hand out to your dad, but he ignored the gesture.
“He, well, this is such a funny story.” you had nothing. Not a single excuse. You facepalmed yourself mentally. You normally were careful whenever Harry came to the compound, always making sure to have F.R.I.D.A.Y warn you if your dad was close. In the end, being in charge of the compound’s security had its advantages. But this time, you just forgot.
“You’re grounded for the rest of your life. Oh, and you’re leaving him,” you scoffed.
“I’m not a child anymore. I’m not doing what you say, Dad.”
“Well, you’re still under my roof, which means you have to follow my rules.”
“Technically, this isn’t your roof,” you said, and Tony was in disbelief. You still had the guts to answer him.
“What did you just say? I’m sorry I think I just heard you answer back to me.”
“Then you heard right. You’re out of your mind if you think you're grounding me, and even more, if you think I'm going to leave Harry.”
“You…”
“Hey, Mr Stark is coming… Oh.” Seeing Peter somehow relieved you. Tony sighed.
“For how long?”
“What?”
“For how long have you been dating him?” This was going to hurt.
“Three….. Years.” you whispered the last part, trying your best not to tell your dad that you’d been hiding this from him for so long.
“YEARS? I thought this was something new. How could you-”
“Dad, let me explain.” You interrupted him. “I know this is such a huge and kinda insane thing. But you have to understand me. I was scared, ok?” you felt a lump form in your throat. “He… I… I know you were straightforward when you told me about having any type of relationship with Harry. But can you blame me? He was the first guy who actually liked me for being me and not for being a Stark.” You could feel tears prickle your eyes. Harry’s hand grabbed yours, and you smiled through the tears.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love being your daughter. We have the brains, the looks, the status… But do you know how it feels, how I’ve felt for years whenever someone wants to be my friend just because I’m your daughter? Because THE Iron Man is my father?” You could see your father slowly starting to relax his whole body.
“I didn’t know you felt like that.” He understood. After all, his father, your grandfather, also made a name before Tony even existed.
“When you recruited Peter, I was so happy to finally have a genuine friend, and when I met Harry, he was just… perfect. He didn’t care that I was your daughter. He knew you really didn’t like anything relating to his dad. Well, everyone on this planet knows that, but because he’s also an Osborn, he understood me, and he knew I wouldn’t use him either just because of that.” You let go of Harry’s hand and approached your dad.
“So, can you please forget he’s Norman Osborn’s son and just think of him as a normal person?”
“If it helps Mr. Stark, he’s good when it comes to her. Always takes care of her.”
“Pete…” Tony hated seeing you cry. When you came to this world, he vowed to give you everything he could and whatever his little girl wanted. He didn’t want to be the reason you cried.
“I guess I can try.” you squeaked in excitement and hugged him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“But just don’t ever hide this type of information from me. I don’t want you to think you cannot trust me.” Harry’s and Peter’s hearts melted at the sweet scene that was unfolding in front of them.
In the end, your dad will always make sure you are happy, and if Harry Osborn made you happy, he could try and put his hatred aside for your sake.
“Tony Stark. I’m your girlfriend’s dad, who’s also Iron Man, so be careful.” you hit your dad’s arm playfully.
“Harry Osborn. And please be sure I won’t let anything happen to her. She’s the love of my life, sir. I would do anything for her.”
“Good.”
Peter and you smiled. Well, this was just the beginning, and you were relieved the two men you loved the most finally met each other. Of course, this wasn’t how you wanted to tell your dad, but at least you would stop sneaking around.
Maybe being reckless and forgetful wasn’t that bad after all.
A/N: And the saga of me using Taylor Swift’s songs as titles continues.
SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.
WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI
WORD COUNT - 4.5k
// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite
name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete
On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before.
And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter.
Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd.
“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!”
Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film.
“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-”
Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?”
“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,”
Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!”
Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror.
Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!”
“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!”
For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him.
“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!”
“It’s not abuse-”
You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.”
“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is.
“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!”
The expression on his face is downright laughable.
It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk.
“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory.
Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you.
“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you.
Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.”
Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas.
“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.”
Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!”
His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile.
Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect.
This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort.
Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life.
Not yet, at least.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.”
You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong.
Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?”
Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too?
You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter.
The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating.
“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?”
His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.”
It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs.
“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”
A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-”
He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel.
“If you need anything, call 911.”
“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment.
Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest.
You could definitely get used to having him around.
A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room.
Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier.
A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame.
Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance.
Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps.
Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now.
You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night.
But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence.
As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind.
If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it.
Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent.
Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest.
The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction.
No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar!
An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment…
Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil.
Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space.
The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver.
Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night.
On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear.
The room was messy, but empty.
Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread.
If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries…
Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch.
The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress.
For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket.
You think of how you should follow that advice.
You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you.
But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force.
Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep.
Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat.
So this must be Peter 2.
The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume.
Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask.
The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off.
You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-
Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger.
You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him.
Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you.
Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach.
A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs.
You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him.
“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer.
He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-”
His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice.
“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.”
He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too.
But not him.
“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.”
“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.”
He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.”
“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!”
“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.”
The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?”
He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.”
“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.”
It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man.
Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building…
“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.”
You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home.
“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,”
“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.”
“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds.
The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence.
Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught.
You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.”
For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?”
He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses.
“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,”
He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat.
“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.”
As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it.
Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist.
Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.”
He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.”
Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips.
“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt.
It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care.
“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!”
The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.”
The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?!
You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?”
His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech.
“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!”
The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—
He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.”
It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot.
He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems.
He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes.
His eyes.
They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters.
“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?”
It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe!
He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.”
You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood.
“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?”
You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.
“Pete.”
a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.
also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!
part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th
Hey! Could you write something about Peter Parker (Andrew's version) asking the popular reader to take his virginity?
(this is set in a college!au :) )
evidence of prior students is carved into the tray table that unfolds from beside his auditorium chair and over his jumping legs, initials of a and g etched out of its once-smooth surface. peter courses the pad of his thumb over the groove, swallowing a thick weight in the back of his throat when you turn into his aisle, head turned over your shoulder to wave away a friend.
discarding your friend is a strange occurence, and the taste of rubber is bitter when the man sinks his teeth into that of his pencil, watching when you maneuver into a seat beside him and toss your tote over the one beside you. "hey," you rummage for a notebook, hiking a leg up and wedging your heel into the cheap cushion under your bottom. "angela forgot her glasses so she wants to sit up closer, but i'd rather die than be closer than i have to be to that asshole," a page nearly tears when you flip through the notebook.
peter forces a snort, trepidation pinpricking at his thumping chest when your bicep brushes against his own, and the heat that climbs up his jugular is seemingly not paralleled with the pretty girl on his right. "tell me about it," his hand drops against the plastic of the tiny tabletop. "he's too hard on grading."
he bites his tongue about the sterling marks he's recently received, rapping the wood of the writing utensil against the desk. "you got my text, didn't you?" he forces a whisper, slinking back further into his chair.
at this point, the knees of his long legs push into the seat in front him, and he hides from the annoyed glance from the student in said seat, but is grateful for the match-up in height.
you nod, licking over your lips. "yeah, you said you could help me with this unit, right? and as a thank you, i can bring dinner."
he shakes his head, using his thumb nail to fidget with the engraved initials. "i was thinking you could thank me.. another way, maybe?" he gnaws on the inside of his cheek.
"what are you thinking?"
his pupils swarm, ebbing and growing until they swarm out the warm brown of his irises. he looks over at you, and the piercing black that blinks back at you tugs at your heart strings. "figured i'd.. give this whole sex thing a try," he muscles out, cheeks a rosy pink. "and thought you were a good person to try it out with... how does that sound?"
you tongue at your cheek at his bashful expression, nodding. "you're getting bold, pete."
he swallows again, and adjusts himself awkwardly. "oh.. cause.. dinner is fine too. i'm.. i'm fine with dinner."
"no, peter," you slap playfully at his bouncing knee. "i'd love to. just make sure you have some extra condoms on hand, i don't think i have anymore.
Can you do a Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Avenger reader one-shot? The reader is a Hydra experiment turned Avenger who has hawk wings and can fly like a bird. She can hide her wings by folding them like a bird can. She grew up somewhere in the US and doesn’t remember her parents, so the closest thing she has to a family is the Avengers. She meets Peter and starts dating him. Her alias, chosen by Tony, is Hawk, which Peter thinks is a little on the nose.
masterlist
You know, at moments like this, you’re really not sure if you’re dreaming or not. The setting around you seems real enough, but it’s happened so many times before that you’re starting to progress past deja vu and into entirely new territory. You could do this sort of mission in your sleep, and at this point, you kind of think you already have.
The scene is simple. Someone has attacked New York, and someone must save the city. This time, it’s not aliens or HYDRA knocking down your door but a new kind of inhuman with a bone to pick. At this rate, you get them so frequently that it’s like a regularly scheduled TV broadcast. Have you caught up on the latest season of unhappy mutants? Nah, I’m still three weeks backlogged on super powered individuals who hate us all.
A voice crackles into your earpiece, and you have to blink hard to get yourself to focus again. A lab tech company stole the blood samples of someone with powers in an attempt to understand more about what makes inhumans so utterly not human. The victim, your criminal of the week, is using his fire powers to burn down the company’s headquarters to prove that they’ll never be able to control him.
See, you’re supposed to be out here stopping the guy, but you kind of see his point. You were a lab experiment yourself a while back, and the results gave you powers and a chance to join the Avengers. Your time as a HYDRA science experiment was the worst experience of your life– agony and horror galore, to say the least– and if this guy’s standing up for the rights of the inhumans to avoid laboratories with a little too keen an interest in your inner workings, you don’t really want to kill him for his troubles.
That’s not the Avengers way, though. You weren’t hired for your thoughts on the rights of inhumans, especially those who suffered in the name of scientific progress, you’re here to save the city and the world and the universe, usually all three at once.
Hence the reason Captain America is chastising you to get your head in the game. This isn’t a time for sightseeing, it’s your chance to protect the innocents as the fire spreads. Thanks to the human-sized hawk wings that have been yours ever since your lab days, you’re in charge of the aerial defense of the Avengers, a role they need you for right now.
Today, you’re not a girl, you’re the Hawk, and you have a job to do. Tony Stark was responsible for your induction into the Avengers, as well as that very obvious alias. He’s also desperate for backup from the sky, especially right now.
You sigh, bid your morals a temporary adieu, and soar down from your vantage point in the clouds. The inhuman isn’t expecting another attacker from above, especially not one moving as fast as you. You tuck your wings into your sides for additional velocity, and slam into him hard enough to knock him to the ground.
Seizing the opportunity of his distraction, Natasha quickly fires electric charges into his chest, knocking the guy out for a few seconds. From there, it’s easy to get some cuffs on the inhuman and shove him into the reinforced mobile holding cell S.H.I.E.L.D. sent over for precisely that purpose.
Steve nods at you. “Thanks for the help, Y/N.”
You smile wearily. “Any time.”
It’s easier to appreciate the Avengers lifestyle now, basking in the glow of having played a pivotal role in keeping the city safe. It’s a little more difficult hours later, when the sun has already set but you’re still trapped in the Avengers complex for a debrief that just won’t end.
It’s not the Avengers’ fault, you know that. S.H.I.E.L.D. has its protocols, and they get a little antsy if they aren’t followed. Still, you can’t help it when your mind starts wandering. You’ve attended enough meetings on the proper rules to be followed when your life is on the line and they all blur together.
You tune back in when Steve says your name. They’re discussing you now, apparently, and the words being said aren’t all compliments.
Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, can you please try to focus for five minutes?”
You grimace. “Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about, exactly?”
Natasha arches a brow. “This, to be honest. You’re not as engaged with the fights as you used to be.”
You wince. “Can you blame me? I’ve been at this for years, Nat, ever since you guys broke me out of the HYDRA labs. I never went to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, I’ve never been a spy. I’m just doing my best out here.”
Bruce raises his hands placatingly. “We know that, kid, and we’re proud of you. We just need to be sure that you’re one hundred percent on top of things whenever you’re out in the field, for your safety as well as ours.”
You nod. “I’ll try to be better. Sorry.”
Tony frees you at last from the shame of everyone’s disapproving stares. “Look, cut the girl a break. She did well out there, and no one got hurt. If something happens, we can discuss this more seriously, but why punish her for an incident that hasn’t happened yet? Y/N, I know it’s getting late. You can go if you want.”
You jump on that chance and thank him, hurrying out of the room just in time to hear Steve chastising Tony for letting you go as the door closes behind you. You’re not sticking around to be called back. You have no interest in hearing a repeat of the same lecture.
In all honesty, they’re not entirely wrong. You do need to get your head in order. It’s just been difficult to focus on anything, really. Everything feels the same, and why care about any job if a similar mission is going to take place the next week, and the next week, and the next? They all end the same way, and they’re always going to.
You poke your head out of a balcony and, spreading your wings to take flight, soar up to the roof. Everything seems simpler up here. Why stress about the city when it’s nothing more than a thousand pinpricks of light?
You coast on the night breeze for a while before coming to a stop on a neighboring skyscraper. It’s nice to finally be alone, or so you think until a voice sounds from behind you.
“Sorry, is this roof taken?”
You glance behind you to see a figure emerging from the shadows. After a heartbeat, you realize you recognize the red mask, the scarlet and blue suit, the black arachnid logo on the center of the stranger’s chest. This is the Spider-Man you’ve been hearing about in the news lately. He’s saving the city, but doing it his own way, not caught up in the politics of being an Avenger.
Truth be told, you admire him for it. It must be nice to save people without the lecture that always follows you. He doesn’t have to be perfect, he just has to get the job done. What a life to lead.
You shake your head, gesturing beside you. “Not for you. What’s up, Spider-Boy?”
He chuckles as he sits down next to you. “Normally, I’d insist on being referred to as a man, but I’ll let it slide just this once. I’m pretty alright, what about you? I saw you were saving the city again earlier today. I would have joined in, but–”
You shake your head, dismissing his apology. “No need. The Avengers tend to swarm all over things, no need to involve yourself in their mess.”
Spider-Man glances your way, and when he speaks again, his voice is curious. “I take it you’re not on the best of terms with them at the moment?”
You sigh. “Just for now. They’re the only family I’ve ever known, so we get along most of the time. We’ve just been in a rough patch at the moment. I don’t really know why.”
Spider-Man lifts a shoulder. “Well, you said they’re like your family, right? The fights don’t surprise me. All families struggle to get along all the time. I’m sure it’ll blow over in a few days.”
You chuckle. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“I should hope so,” Spider-Man informs you, “I’m kind of the world’s leading expert on superpowered family relationships. I got a college degree in, uh, Avenging Therapy.”
This time, your laugh is easy, carefree. “Well, Mr. Inhuman Therapist, I’d love a little more advice. I’m Y/N, by the way.”
He reaches out a hand to shake yours. “I’m Peter. It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”
Lovely, as it turns out, is exactly the right word to use. The two of you talk well into the night, and you find yourself more than reluctant to leave him, even as the call to sleep grows stronger. Luckily, you end up crossing paths again soon, and then accidental meetings happen on purpose, more and more often until you know the face under the mask just as well as you know the so-called vigilante plastered across the newspaper pages.
It’s just nice to have Peter around, that’s all. He reminds you that there’s a life worth living outside of every fight. It takes you a while to realize that he’s the only friend you’ve ever wanted as more than just a friend, the one you like, the one you love, but after that– well, it feels impossible that you could have ever known anything else.
You’re on a similar rooftop one night a few months later when you learn that he feels the same way about you. You were a little late to your usual meetup spot thanks to yet another meeting with the Avengers, but instead of complaining, Peter beams at you and says,
“There she is! The angel of New York City has arrived.”
You laugh. It’s easy, around him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m nobody’s angel.”
The thought is absurd. You have been a lab rat, a soldier, and a civilian, all in turn. These are all roles that you have played, but none of them have ever been truly yours. Never, though, has an angel ever been among their ranks.
Still, Peter seems to believe it. His eyes gleam with certainty. “You’re mine.”
You almost choke on your own incredulity. “You’re joking. Me, an angel? There are at least a dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. files that would argue the opposite.”
“I’m not joking,” Peter hums. “You can’t deny your angel-hood, Y/N. I’ve already given it to you.”
“I’m giving it back,” you tell him. “Find someone who’s actually a good person.”
“I have,” he asserts. “I just don’t get why you can’t see that. It’s fairly obvious to me.”
You tilt your head to the side. “And why is that?”
“Oh, ‘cause I love you, of course,” Peter says, as easily as if he’s stating a simple, well known fact. Your face must have given away your surprise, because he glances over at you again. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” you manage to stutter out, “It’s just, well, I love you too.”
“I know,” he grins, tilting his head up to the night stars.
After that, it gets better, impossibly. As your boyfriend, Peter is in your life even more than before. Sometimes that involves him stopping by your apartment to bring you flowers. Other times, it means he’s willing to help out with the Avengers so long as they don’t ask questions like who he is and why he’s had an abrupt change of heart about wanting to fight with them.
Usually, you don’t want to call him in. The Avengers can be a hassle, which you’ve learned after years of being one of their number. However, when the fights get to be a little out of hand, a little text to your boyfriend means you’ll have another soldier on your side swinging over in five minutes flat, and that’s more welcome than you can even begin to describe.
Even on days like today, when he stops by to take out some robbers who somehow got their hands on alien tech, you couldn’t be happier to see him. The other Avengers are there, and you probably would have got the job done by yourselves, but it would have taken far more time and cost far more blood. Thankfully, you’ve got Spider-Man on dial, and you can solve problems like superpowered thieves in half the time.
You smile at him as he swings up beside you. He’s still got his mask on, of course, but you can sense his smile even despite the fabric in between you. “Thanks for the helping hand, Spider-Man.”
He laughs. “Any time, Angel. You know that.”
Across the street, the Avengers glance up from the robbers they’d been investigating. Tony frowns. “What was that?”
Peter freezes in place. “What was what?”
Tony quickly points his finger between the two of you. “You just called her something. Angel. What was that about?”
Peter lifts a shoulder in his best imitation of a shrug. “A, uh, new callname? Hawk is too obvious.”
Tony narrows his eyes. “And Angel isn’t?”
Peter raises his hands palm up in a universal gesture of helplessness. “I thought it was more interesting, at least.”
Tony doesn’t seem ready to let him off the hook just yet. “And that’s all it is? Just a codename, not anything else?”
Peter’s voice is as smooth as he can make it. “What else could it be, sir?”
You nod, the picture of innocence. “Yeah, Tony, what else could it possibly be?”
Tony stares at both of you, but he can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing. “It had better be. You wouldn’t believe how fast I can squash a spider if need be.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter says weakly, and starts hurrying away the second Tony turns his back.
You follow him, giggling to yourself. “Nice save there, bug boy.”
Peter groans. “If I wake up in the middle of the night to find that he’s launched an Iron Army or something to kill me as punishment for dating his adoptive superhero child, it’s totally your fault.”
You pretend to be outraged. “No, it’s not! You’re the one who called me that in the first place, remember? The blame’s all yours.”
Peter reaches an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be as charming, Y/N. Then I wouldn’t have any problems properly addressing you as a coworker.”
You laugh. “My charm is irresistible, Pete. Give up now.”
“I already have,” he assures you. Such a flirt. You’ve never minded it, though, and you don’t intend to start now.
Sometimes, this city feels as if it was designed to stress you out. As an Avenger, you’ll never have an end to the missions, nor the civilians to save. There will always be one more job in which you could risk your life, and the memories of your time spent in Hydra’s labs won’t let you go anytime soon.
For now, though, the shadows under the skyscrapers seem a little less dark than before, and the faces peering out of apartment windows at you aren’t hostile or threatening but friendly. This is your city, the one you save with your boyfriend. How could it ever be anything but good to you?
Prompt - ‘But I never planned on you changing your mind.’
Notes - Happy Speak Now month! Request a fic for any of the remaining Speak Now tracks, click my masterlist to see which songs are left!!💜
You could safely say that falling in love with Peter Parker was the easiest thing you had ever done. Everything about him was easy to fall for. He had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, for so long it had been the two of you against the world. He had been there for all the good moments in your life and you had been there for his.
You’d known for years you were in love with him, long before either of you confessed it to each other. You had thought of telling him for a while but every time you’d thought you’d built the courage to do it you always backed out, not wanting to ruin your friendship.
It wasn’t until nearly two in the morning on some random night in fall when you heard a tapping on your window that things changed. You awoke with a groan, not having been asleep for long but exhausted from the day before.
At first you weren't sure what had woken you up, ready to just brush it off and let your eyes fall shut again. Just as you shifted in your bed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you heard more tapping and sat up with a frown.
It took a couple of moments for you to realise it was coming from your window and you felt a smile pull at your lips, wrapping the blanket around yourself because the room was cold. You climbed out of your bed and pulled your curtains back to see a masked Spider-Man grinning at you.
You were quick to push the window open, smile dropping as you took in the busted lip, bloody cheek and blackening eye. Peter didn’t seem all that fazed about it as he climbed in through the window, quickly catching a book he had knocked on his way in before it could make a noise and closed the window for you.
“Fun night?” You asked as you made your way to your desk, pulling out the med kit you kept handy ever since you’d found out that the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man happened to be your best friend.
“Yeah, it was great!” Peter grinned, causing you to wince as more blood leaked from his lips, Peter ignoring it as he relayed the events of his night, making himself comfortable on your bed.
As he spoke you gently got to work on cleaning the blood coming from the different spots on his face, knowing that his healing factor would take care of the rest and in just a few hours you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he had been hurt.
“Better?” You asked as you threw the bloody wipes onto your nightstand, along with the med kit, too tired to bother putting them away.
“Thank you.” Peter nodded, smiling softly at you before he pulled himself off the bed.
As he stripped out of the suit and opened your wardrobe for a pair of clothes you’d stolen from him months ago you fixed the blanket and settled back against the pillows, stealing a glance or two before he was dressed and climbing into bed with you.
The two of you had been sharing a bed since you were kids, back then it was fine, easy, he was just your best friend then but now, now it was different. It was harder to ignore your feelings when you were pulled against a warm chest, Peter’s arms wrapping around you, holding you close to him.
You were so stupidly in love with him that it hurt some days.
“Thank you for always patching me up.” He murmured into your hair and you smiled into his chest, smoothing your hand along his shirt.
“Somebody’s gotta watch out for Spider-Man whilst he’s saving the world.” You laughed, feeling the rumble of Peter’s chest as he chuckled.
The two of you were quiet for a while after that, your eyes had drifted back shut and you let yourself relax even more against Peter, selfishly savouring the way he felt wrapped around you, memorising the way his thumb automatically stroked soothingly up and down your hip, cherished the way you’d never felt quite as safe as you did in Peter’s arms.
“I love you.” Peter whispered into the dark, the words catching him by surprise.
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He hoped you had fallen asleep, hoped you hadn’t heard his whispered confession and yet another part of him wished you were awake to hear it. He wanted you to know that you were the one for him, that he’d been in love with you for longer than he could remember.
You were silent for a moment, not daring to move as though it would break the spell and Peter would take the words back, play them off as a joke. It took you a few more seconds before you were able to force yourself to move.
You shifted out of Peter’s grip only far enough away so that you could look over at him with disbelief on your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Peter couldn’t love you, it was just that you had never let yourself think he could love you the way you had loved him for so long.
“Y/N/N,” Peter started, torn between backtracking or just admitting it all over again, thankfully he was saved from having to decide when you smiled at him and reached out to cup his cheek, your thumb gently brushing over his already healing cut.
“I love you too.” You whispered back to him, watching as he froze for a second as if he wasn’t registering the words before a smile broke out and his whole face seemed to light up the dark room.
“Really?” He couldn’t help but ask and you laughed softly as you nodded, Peter leaned in and pressed your lips together, both of you smiling too much for it to be more of a brushing of your lips before Peter pulled you even closer and kissed you properly, the kiss soft and slow as he cupped your own cheek.
By the time the two of you were forced to pull away for air, you were dizzy and breathing heavily, Peter resting his forehead against yours and feeling just as intoxicatingly dizzy as you did.
Your first kiss with Peter turned into two then three until you couldn’t recall how many kisses were shared on that first night alone, neither of you able to stop until the pull of exhaustion forced you away from each other and you were able to fall asleep in his arms, not having to feel guilty for how much you enjoyed it anymore.
It went on for months, you and Peter shocking nobody when you announced that you were dating. Aunt May pulled you into a hug and told you she’d been waiting for you two to figure it out since you were six years old causing you both to laugh and share smiles.
Everything was perfect. The two of you were made for each other. You weren’t surprised that nothing much seemed to change between the two of you, Peter and you were still attached at the hip both during and after school, Peter still knocked on your window more nights than not to crawl into your bed after patrolling, the only difference now was that the two of you could be open with how you felt and that you could pull him down for a kiss whenever you wanted.
“You look gorgeous, love.” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you looked at each other through the mirror.
Peter had never been shy with the compliments, even before you started dating he always seemed to want you to know how beautiful you were and yet somehow they never failed to make you blush.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You smirked, turning around in his hold to drape your arms around his shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips.
The two of you were finishing getting ready to head to Gwen’s, her parents were away for some business trips and since school had just ended it seemed like the perfect time for somebody to throw a party.
As you headed in you felt Peter’s hand resting against the small of your back. That was another thing about Peter, he seemed incapable of keeping his hands to himself around you, there was always some part of him attached to you.
You weren’t complaining of course, you loved that Peter wasn’t afraid to show you off, you loved the feeling of him close by. Peter had always felt like home, felt safe, you would never push him away.
Peter was like the life of the party whenever he walked into a room, he didn’t care who anyone was, he’d say hi to you if you were popular or not, he’d pour you a drink and hand you some snacks and draw you into a conversation if you looked left out.
It was truly a wonder how people hadn’t figured out he was Spider-Man, both of them cared so much for other people, always willing to take a hit before he’d let someone else take it, always looking out for others.
Peter headed off to get you both a drink and you found Gwen in the crowd, letting her pull you in for a hug before she immediately started talking to you. You laughed along with her, joining in with the group she was with and were only pulled away when Peter found you with two drinks in hand.
You smiled at him, continuing with what you were saying before you were cut off by Peter’s lips pressing against yours and you couldn’t help but laugh into it as the others around you cooed and giggled.
“I was talking.” You said once he pulled away, Peter grinning down at you as he passed you a drink.
“Sorry, you just look so beautiful tonight.” He told you, causing you to roll your eyes playfully even as you blushed.
A few drinks later and Peter stumbled over to you, a happy grin on his face, his eyes bright as he wrapped himself around you, nuzzling into your neck and placing soft kisses against your skin.
“Dance with me?” He whispered into your ear, placing a kiss against it.
You weren’t usually one for dancing but Peter kept pressing kisses along your shoulder and you couldn’t help but give in to him, letting him lead you to the living room which seemed to have been turned into a dance floor for the time being.
Dancing with Peter was just as intoxicating as all of thing involving Peter seemed to be, the way his arms wrapped around you, gripping your hips as he pulled your back to his chest, moving against you, his lips still mouthing at your neck whilst he nudged you to tilt your head for him as you moved to the beat of whatever song was playing.
Peter danced with you for a song or two before he was pulling away from your neck, trailing a series of kisses up to your ear.
“Let me take you home?” He whispered, his voice thick and heavy with want and you wanted him just as badly, nodding against him and letting him lead you out of Gwen’s place and back to yours.
You had noticed straight away when something shifted, Peter knocked on your window less and less as the weeks went on, the two of you were so close that you felt the loss immediately. When the two of you were together he acted differently, pulling away more and more and if you thought that was bad in public it was even worse.
Suddenly Peter, who was usually so open with his affection for you, treated you like you were a stranger. It was strange to go from having him always with you to him pulling away. You had tried to accept that maybe he just needed some distance, you did spend a lot of time together, maybe he just needed to be alone for a bit.
But after weeks passed where you would go days without receiving a reply from him, without feeling his arms around you or his lips against yours you didn’t know what to do. Something was obviously wrong but instead of talking to you about it he was pushing you further and further away.
Peter, meanwhile, was freaking out.
He had been swinging through the city, ready to call it a night as things seemed to be quiet and head over to your house when he heard somebody frantically calling out for him. His spider senses immediately honed in on the voice and he swung faster towards it, dropping into a crouch in front of a scared girl.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, scanning the scene for any danger but other than the girl's pale face and shaking hands there wasn’t anything out of place.
“Spider-Man,” she breathed out, looking at him in fear. “He told me to give you this.”
The girl held out a large thick envelope that caused Peter to frown. He hesitated for a moment before he took it off her but didn’t open it just yet.
“Who gave this to you?” He asked, watching as she shook her head.
“I don’t know, he just grabbed me and dragged me down here. He told me I had to make sure you got that or he’d hurt me.” The girl began to cry and Peter shushed her gently, pulling her up and wrapping his arm around her.
“I’m really sorry, will you let me walk you home?” He asked her softly and spent the next twenty minutes walking through New York, making sure the girl got home safely before he swung a few blocks away.
He landed on a rooftop and sat down, opening the envelope and feeling his heart stop when a picture fell out. It was a picture of you with Spider-Man and when he tipped the envelope out he saw dozens more of the two of you together, thankfully each time he was fully suited and masked.
‘The itsy, bitsy Spider-Man sure would be crushed if something happened to his little girlfriend.’
Peter’s blood ran cold as he tried to run through all the people he had dealt with recently but couldn’t think of anybody who would be furious enough to stalk him and threaten you. He had always been nervous about mixing you and Spider-Man but you both thought you were being careful.
Clearly he was wrong and now you were in danger because of him.
Putting space between you made Peter feel like the biggest jerk in the world but he knew if he told you it would cause you to panic. He didn’t want you looking over your shoulder every second of the day, startling at every sound you heard and being too scared to leave your apartment.
He was torn. Being away from you hurt but he had to protect you. He never thought he’d have to choose between you and Spider-Man, you had accepted his masked side immediately but now he had to protect you even if you never knew.
“Will you stop!” You exclaimed as you tried to catch up to Peter, the man had gotten good at avoiding you. “Seriously, tell me what’s going on!”
“There’s nothing going on.” Peter insisted as he stopped walking to let you catch up to him.
“Don’t lie to me, don’t do that. I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re telling me we’re fine?” You cried, hating the way tears stung at your eyes but suddenly you were exhausted, being away from Peter for so long was wrong.
“Baby,” he sighed, stepping closer to you to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry, ok, I just…you’re right there is something wrong but not with us.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” You pleaded and Peter’s own eyes filled with tears as he shook his head, leaning down to press your foreheads together and just savouring the feeling of having you so close.
“I love you so much.” He murmured, leaning down to press his lips against yours, kissing you so softly, so carefully, like you’d break if he was too rough.
“Peter, please just talk to me.” You begged when he pulled back but he shook his head again.
“I can’t baby, I can’t.” He told you tearfully, leaning in to kiss you one last time before pulling away. “Just do me a favour please.”
“Anything.” You told him sincerely, worried for him and wanting nothing more than to help him.
“Tell me you love me.” He asked, looking at you with wide, watery eyes that made your heart break.
“Of course I love you, you know that right?” You asked and he nodded at you, his lips thinning into a line as he fought back tears.
“Yeah, yeah I know that Y/N/N.” He forced his lips into a smile, taking you in before he knew he had to leave. “I gotta go baby.”
You went to open your mouth but Peter just shook his head, murmuring an apology before he raced away from you, leaving you standing in the street, watching as he blended into the crowd of strangers.
If you had known that would have been your last kiss with Peter you would have held him close a bit longer, you would have made it last until you were both gasping for breath, you wouldn’t have let him walk away without an explanation like the many years of your friendship, of your love meant nothing to him.
But you didn’t know that would be your last kiss with him, not until you got a call from Peter whilst you were in the shower. You hadn’t heard the phone ring but you smiled once you sat on your bed, changed into a pair of clothes you had stolen from Peter, to see a voicemail from him, it had been over a week since the last time you’d seen or heard from him.
“Um, hey…hey baby.” Peter said shakily and your smile immediately turned into a frown. “God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should be doing this in person but I can’t, I can’t because it’d kill me to see you cry. I…Y/N, I have to break up with you. I’m so sorry, baby but I gotta. It’s for the best.”
For the best? How was him breaking up with you for the best?
“You did nothing wrong, Y/N, you need to know that. This is all me and God, Y/N, one day I promise you, one day I’m gonna make up for all of this but right now…just know that I love you so much, baby, I really do love you.”
Tears were streaming down your face by the time the message ended and you were left in silence, the only sound was your occasional sobs as you struggled for air.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, you and Peter were meant to be it, you were meant to be with only each other, that’s what you promised each other. It was always supposed to be you and Peter against the world.
Now you were alone, with no explanation as to why only a promise that he would fix it one day. You weren’t sure how he was supposed to fix this when he couldn’t even stomach being in the same room as you.
You and Peter had planned a future together, it was impossible to see it without him. You didn’t want to see it without him. You weren’t supposed to have a last kiss with him, he wasn’t supposed to be something you missed.
You were so set on a future with Peter, thought he was so sure about one with you that the idea of him changing his mind had never even occurred to you. You wish it had though because then maybe you would have expected this a little bit but nothing could have prepared you for this.
You didn’t want this to be the end of your story with Peter, this was never how you’d imagined it to end and yet there was nothing you could do to change it, the only thing you could do was hope that one day Peter kept his promise and made things right again.
Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -
pairings — tasm!peter parker x bff!fem!reader, featuring bff!gwen stacy x bff!fem!reader
summary — in which, she’s been second to gwen her entire life, so, naturally, it comes to a shock to her when peter picks her.
word count — 4.8k.
warnings — angst, fluff, best friends to lovers trope, protective/soft!peter, reader and peter equally pining after each other, reader being extremely insecure about herself because of always being a last choice, mentions of anxiety and o.c.d., reader being self-loathing towards herself, also slight mentions of reader having an abusive parent and hints of an actual abusive situation near the end (i feel like that needs to be a warning because i know how it feels to be in an abusive situation, so yeah), use of pet-names [baby], confessions, kisses, gwen being a supportive best friend.
notes — first off, i just want to say, this isn’t a fic that will spoil nwh. yes, i’ve watched it, but i don’t want to ruin that for anyone else, so i’m not going to spoil the movie!! anyways, after watching the movie, though, [THIS MAY BE A SPOILER THO->] my obsession over andrew as spider-man has come back, so here i am, writing about him because he’s one of my biggest comfort characters from that fictional world, etc. anyways, i hope you enjoy <3. also, i want to clarify that i have nothing against gwen. in fact, i love her with my entire heart. the narration is just based on how the reader was treated throughout her and gwen’s friendship. another quick thing, if i mess up any details from the movies, please, don’t come for me :/. i haven’t watched the movies in years and i can’t figure out where to watch it for free, so please forgive me for any errors, etc! gif and divider creds to owner!
p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.
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IT’S A GIVEN THAT SHE constantly feels like gwen is much more important than her.
it’s understandable that she has never felt like she matters just as much as gwen does. that’s just how it’s always been for [y/n].
why, you ask? it’s quite simple; gwen is kind and caring and beautiful — tons of people like her and crush on her.
and no, that’s not gwen’s fault.
in fact, she always tried so much to make [y/n] feel included and like she’s good enough because she hates the way her best friend feels about herself — she hates that people make her feel like that when she sees her as so much more.
but, no matter how much gwen tried — and failed — she just couldn’t get her best friend to see how important she is.
and that certainly isn’t [y/n]’s fault, either.
you see, not only, is it because she feels like a last choice when it comes to her friendship with gwen, but she also doesn’t have such a great home life — her father is extremely abusive, and her mother is never home to give her the love she deserves.
it had been like that for so long that [y/n] usually crashes at gwen’s house on most nights that she possibly can — she’ll do just about anything to avoid her father and his angry actions.
and it doesn’t help that it’s quite obvious that the one person she cares about the most, only has eyes for her best friend.
i mean, talk about heartbreak, right?
[y/n] and peter — just like herself and gwen — have been close friends since middle school.
of course, they’re not as close as gwen and [y/n] are, but still.
and it really didn’t take that long for her to grow intense feelings for her good friend, peter parker.
so, when the moment came where she catches the two talking, smiling and laughing with each other, she stops from where she had recently been walking out of from one of her classes.
her heart nearly stops, her blood running cold as the tears begins to blur her vision.
the small little wheezes of laughter of peter’s finally dies in his throat when he notices [y/n] stood behind him and gwen, watching them with an unreadable look in her eyes.
then, a shuddering breath escapes out of her slightly chapped lips as their eyes finally meet.
with another hallow breath leaving her, [y/n] shakes her head and keeps repeating to herself that she has no right to be heartbroken — or hurt — over both of her best friend’s hitting it off with each other as she forces herself to walk down the hall, over to her locker.
as she hurries past them, not giving either of them the time of day during her emotional mood, she tries to ignore their gazes burning into her side.
peter watches her longingly, frowning as she finally makes it to her locker, twisting the lock and unlocking it with her passcode.
“you know… you could just tell her how you feel, right?” gwen asks from her place behind him, raising a questioning eyebrow at him as he continues to watch his best friend numbly grab her backpack from inside of her locker.
with a sigh, peter shakes his head.
“i—i can’t.” he mumbles, feeling the multiplied amount of anxiety beginning to fill him at the thought of ruining his friendship with his very best friend.
“why not?” she asks in a soft voice, tilting her head to the side in confusion.
but, just as he opens his mouth to explain what he’s thinking, she rolls her eyes and groans, before swiftly interrupting him. “—and don’t you dare say it’s because she doesn’t feel the same. because she does, trust me. she does.”
peter sputters, brows knitting together in confusion as he turns back to face gwen. “w—what? no, sh—she doesn’t. of course she doesn’t. why would she?” he rambles, causing gwen to become irritated with him and lightly slap him in the arm.
“idiot, parker! you literally are so clueless that it’s embarrassing to witness firsthand. she obviously was jealous when she saw us talking because she likes you. and obviously, she thinks something’s going on between us,” she chastises him, before explaining more. “it’s so obvious how she feels about you. and although she’s never told me how she feels about you, it’s quite clear she does feel that way. she just never told me because i think she thinks that i like you and that you like me — she probably thinks that she doesn’t have a chance with you. she’s always felt like she wasn’t enough through the entire time i’ve been friends with her because of how people treated me compared to her.”
as he hears more of what she says, peter’s heart cracks in half at the thought of [y/n] thinking she’s not enough.
i mean… sure, he always knew that she was quiet and kept to herself. but, he just thought that that was who she was, not that it had to do with her insecurities.
“peter, you need to tell her how you feel before you lose her. because, trust me, you will, if you don’t talk to her. it’s a miracle her and i are still best friends — when things get too intense or scary for her, or if she thinks someone’s going to hurt or leave her, she self-sabotages the relationship and pushes the person away before they can do it to her.”
she raises a brow at him, waiting for him to agree with her.
but, it’s almost as if he’s stuck in his own world — in his own head. he’s still frozen in shock, finding it completely hard to believe that his best friend reciprocates the same feelings he has for her.
with a groan, gwen mumbles, “just tell her,” before she’s walking off, leaving him still in an equal amount of shock and confusion.
—————
WITH A HEAVY SIGH, [Y/N] lets herself fall onto her bed, in which, is made neatly, due to her crippling anxiety.
although, she’s absolutely sure that it has more to do with her o.c.d. than anything else.
after a few moments of feeling the most uncomfortable pain ever, from lying directly on top of her heavy backpack, she sighs and moves to sit up to take the straps off of her shoulders.
but, something in particular causes her to stop her actions completely; a door slamming shut causes her head to snap up with fear beginning to swirl deeply in her [y/e/c] eyes.
a deep intake of shaky breaths later, [y/n] tries to calm herself as her father’s footsteps carry on and edge closer to the top of the steps that leads directly to her bedroom door.
although, before she can fully process this fact and prepare for a conversation that may or may not end in violence, her eyes catch a silhouette climbing up to her window.
as he climbs up nervously to his best friend’s bedroom window — not knowing of her biggest secret — peter freezes when he sees the panicked look on [y/n]’s face.
[y/n] freezes, before snapping her head back towards her bedroom door, trying to figure out how much closer her father is.
although, she impulsively decides that telling peter to leave before he finds out the truth, is totally worth the risk of getting caught by her father and getting an even worse punishment than she’d normally get whenever she was home — the times where she wasn’t crashing at gwen’s, which was usually extremely rare.
peter’s brows knit together in confusion as [y/n] slowly and quietly flips the latch and lifts up the window as much as she possibly can.
“peter! what are you doing here?”
before he can actually answer her, a loud booming voice yells, “[y/n]! open this door, right now!” her father violently jiggles the door knob, confirming that it is indeed locked.
she snaps her head to the direction of her door, a gasp leaving her lips and a fearful expression quickly taking over her face.
then, she turns back to peter, her tearful gaze and petrified expression completely visible to him now as she stutters in a whisper, “y—you have to go, peter. please.”
still in shock from how violent the man on the other side of the door is acting, peter snaps out of his confused daze and shakes his head.
“[y/n], something’s obviously going on. just talk to me.”
a loud and violent pound on the door later and tears start to spill from her eyes to her cheeks in fear of her father hurting her best friend.
“p—peter… please. i’m begging you, just go. you can’t be here for what happens next. i… i—i need you safe. so, please… just go.” she cries out, trembling as she reaches over the windowsill and grabs onto one of his hands and squeezes it.
peter shakes his head once more, about to say more.
but, he’s interrupted when [y/n]’s father slams the door against the lock, causing it to open just a fraction, bringing his daughter to the realization that he’d be inside her room any second.
[y/n] anxiously turns back to peter.
“please. just leave, hide, whatever. just… please, don’t let him see or hear you.” she whispers shakily, pulling her hand away from his and backing up as she hopes to god peter will be gone long before her father finally breaks through her bedroom door.
peter opens his mouth to say more, not ready to leave her alone in this situation — whatever this situation means — when she nods to him, tears resurfacing.
“i—it’s okay. i’ll come find you — w—we’ll talk, okay? just go. i’ll… i’ll be okay. i promise.” her voice cracks.
with another hesitant glance at her, peter finally sighs in defeat and begins to climb back down the side of the apartment building.
the moment he’s far enough away, [y/n] heaves in a sigh of relief and races over to the window, taking no pauses and quietly shuts the window, just as her father finally breaks through, a look of pure rage in his eyes.
“d—dad, please—” she begins in a tone mixed with both pleading and trembles in it.
“what did i say about locking your door, [y/n]?” he questions in a voice of so much calmness throughout the anger he obviously feels, causing a chill to run through her spine as she knows all to well of what’s to come next.
—————
“OH MY GOD. [Y/N]!” GWEN gasps the second she opens up her front door to see her best friend with bruises surrounding her entire face, including a black eye.
[y/n] frowns, hating that she had to come to her best friend and be babied and treated like a fragile piece of glass, but allows gwen to guide her into the living room and over to the couch anyways, knowing that her best friend is just concerned and worried for her.
“what happened?” gwen questions her, after grabbing her a frozen bag of peas from her parent’s freezer and gently pressing it to one of her cheeks.
[y/n] sighs, before whispering low enough for gwen to hear, “who do you think?”
she doesn’t need to look up at her best friend to know that both the protective and sad expression — the one that gwen wore when she had first found out the truth behind [y/n]’s family — is forming on her face.
“again? oh my god, honey. i—i’m so sorry.” she murmurs, frowning as she moves to sit beside her best friend and places an arm around her shoulder, careful not to put any pressure on any of the injured areas of her body.
[y/n] simply sighs and allows herself to hide her head in gwen’s chest, zoning out numbly for god know’s how long.
several minutes later, a knock is heard on the door, knocking both [y/n] and gwen out of their own thoughts.
when [y/n] lifts up her head from gwen’s chest and gwen herself opens the door and it’s revealed to be peter, asking if [y/n] is there, she jumps up off of the couch so fast — despite her many injuries.
she winces because of this.
but, all she knows in that moment, is that she hopes that she can keep peter from seeing her face.
god, how will she be able to explain that?
but, it’s too late.
because gwen has already stepped aside for peter to walk inside, who’s eyes instantly catching [y/n]’s bloodied and bruised face.
peter’s jaw drops, mouth gaping open at her as he stares at her in utter shock and concern.
although, his worry for her is multiplied by the fact that he knows how painful bruises can be because of his secret identity as the neighborhood’s friendly spider-man.
but, before peter can even begin to question her, [y/n] races down the hall to gwen’s bedroom, hurries inside, and slams the door shut with her back against it, breaths coming out in uneven pants.
what was she supposed to do now? there was no way that he didn’t see it.
back in the living room, peter turns back to gwen, the worry clear on his face.
“what the hell happened to her? i—is she okay?” he questions, brows knitted together in an alarmed tone of voice.
“peter…” gwen hesitates, not wanting to betray her best friend’s trust, but also knowing deep down that peter has every right to know what happened.
as if understanding what she’s thinking, peter sighs.
“please. just… please, just tell me what happened. if i’m going to talk to her, i need to know what’s going on.” he gently pushes, the instinctive feeling of the protectiveness he feels over [y/n] consuming him, still.
gwen still hesitates.
“gwen, you and i both know that she won’t tell me, no matter what happens. you know how she is when she goes through stuff — she never wants to tell anyone because she thinks that she would be burdening them.”
gwen caves after a few seconds of silence. deep down, she knows he’s right.
i mean, it’s literally a miracle that [y/n] even showed up to seek comfort from gwen in the first place — she never depends on others, always only dealing with it on her own. it’s the only way she knows how to survive.
“her dad.” she murmurs so quietly that peter almost thinks he misheard her.
“excuse me? it sounded like you just said her dad did that to her.” he questions, raising his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to correct him.
but, she doesn’t.
she just sighs and gives him a look that clearly suggests that she’s not lying.
“gwen,” he suddenly says, voice cracking. “i—please. please, just tell me it wasn’t her fucking dad.”
upon noticing the silence and the way gwen stays quiet, he flinches, tears beginning to cloud his eyes as the truth finally sinks in and the denial dissipates.
“oh man…” he mumbles, his hands going into his hair, tugging at the brown strands in stress as he mentally lectures himself for not seeing it.
“peter, i’m sorry. i know you deserve to know, but i just didn’t want to betray her trust. she’s been through a lot. and this is one of the biggest situations that’s affected her the most, y’know?” she sighs and places a comforting hand on his shoulder, relating to the emotions that he’s feeling now — the simplest emotions known as shock and anxiety, but still the most consuming ones to feel.
in a fit of hurt over not knowing the truth — especially, when it was quite literally right in front of him — peter shrugs off her hand and turns around.
then, he starts walking down the hallway to gwen’s bedroom, where his best friend is currently hiding in.
“peter, wait!” gwen whispers, worrying that he may say something he doesn’t mean during his frustration over [y/n] not telling him the truth.
with a groan, he reluctantly turns to face her. “what?”
“y—you can’t just march in there. she’s hurting.” she whisper-yells back, raising a brow when he throws his hands up in the air in further frustration.
“well, what am i supposed to do, then, gwen? like you said, she’s hurting. and i wasn’t there to protect her.” he grumbles, wanting to just hurry into the room and comfort [y/n].
when she doesn’t say anything else, he turns back to the door of gwen’s bedroom and knocks on it. “[y/n]? it’s peter. can… can i come in?”
peter’s soft and gentle voice — despite being worried and upset — is heard through the door, after his gently hesitant knock on it, bringing [y/n]’s breath to easily hitch in her throat, anxiety quickly consuming her.
so many nervous thoughts swirl around in her head, causing her to completely get lost in them and forget about opening the door, once she backs away from it.
when silence is the only response peter gets, gwen sighs as he turns to her with a defeated look in his eyes.
after seeing the hurt look in her friend’s eyes, gwen sighs and walks over to the door, knocking on it as soft as possible, before speaking, “[y/n]? hun, i know you’re scared and hurting. and we’re both here for you. always. but…” she trails off, looking back over at peter, who’s no longer paying attention to the conversation as he moves to sit down and lean against the door with his head in hands.
[y/n]’s head snaps up in surprise as she waits for best friend to finish what she’s saying, already having forgotten the internal battle in her mind about letting in the boy she loves, or not.
“look, it’s understandable to be scared. i get that. but, peter cares about you, just as much as you care for him. and he’s worried sick about you. he has been for awhile. so, please, just talk to him when you’re ready. i’ll be in the living room, if you need anything.” hearing her words, [y/n] anxiously gnaws on her bottom lip, trying to come up with a decision.
she does want to tell peter the truth. she knows that if she does, he’d give her all the comfort that she desperately needs.
but, there’s another part of her that’s scared that he’s just using the time to comfort her as an advantage to get more time with gwen, even though they carry no romantic feelings for each other, whatsoever.
of course, she knows that peter would never use her like that, but she just can’t help but think it.
just as she inches towards gwen’s bedroom door, hand just inches away from the doorknob as she has finally come to a decision, her heart stops when she hears what peter does and says next.
with a heavy sigh, he moves to stand up and faces gwen with a look of acceptance placed on his face.
“y—you know what, gwen? maybe… maybe i should just go. i should just respect [y/n]’s decision — i don’t want to push her to talk to me, if she’s not ready.”
gwen hesitates, feeling bad for both of her friends, and wishing that she could do something — anything — to get them to just admit how they feel.
she just wants them to be happy.
“i—i’m just gonna get out of here. text me if anything happens.” he murmurs, trying to ignore the crack in his voice as gwen sighs and wordlessly nods, before he’s walking down the hall.
in the next moment, [y/n] doesn’t hesitate, instantly losing the fear that was holding her back from opening up to peter as a new fear of losing him tonight replaces it.
in just seconds, she’s twisting the knob and throwing the door open hurriedly, surprising gwen.
but, [y/n] doesn’t pay any attention to this as she races after peter.
“p—peter! wait!” she calls after him, rushing towards him, until she’s stood right behind him as he stops.
once he turns to face her, she immediately notices his tearful gaze.
they’re both quiet for a moment, just staring at each other.
but, as if she catches herself, she clears her throat and shakes her head abruptly, knocking peter himself out of his own longing daze towards her.
“peter… i—i’m sorry.” she whispers, tears of her own now surfacing to her eyes.
his brows furrow together in confusion.
“you’re sorry? f—for what? you didn’t do anything wrong.” he murmurs, still very much confused.
[y/n]’s own eyebrows knit together, finding it hard to believe that he thinks she did nothing wrong.
“i did nothing wrong? peter, i have a lot to be sorry for,” she mumbles, shaking her head when his confused expression stays placed on his face. “i didn’t tell you about my dad… and my… well, my feelings for you.”
it’s hard to get the words out.
because as much as she’s not sure what gwen meant when she’d said that peter cared about her just as much she did him, she needs to admit it.
it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t feel the same.
she just can’t bare to lie to him anymore.
it had been beyond exhausting, pretending to be just friends and acting as if she only sees him as that, when she feels so much more for him.
peter’s brows raise in shock as he sputters. “s—so, it’s true? you have feelings for me?” he questions.
he scoffs when she nods.
“i… i never thought… i mean, gwen said that you obviously did, but i just couldn’t believe that someone as incredibly amazing as you could ever carry those type of feelings for someone like me…” he trails his statement off, not even paying attention to [y/n]’s reaction to his words.
she flinches in shock.
“w—what? peter… what do you mean, ‘someone like you’?” she questions, titling her head to the side in further confusion.
as peter stutters once more, gwen takes the private moment between her friends as the opportunity to sneak into her bedroom, desperately hoping that giving them the privacy will finally give them the chance to not only admit how they feel towards each other, but to also just make things official.
“i—i mean, you’re such a good person and i’m not that special. i can’t really grasp the thought of you actually feeling that way about me.” he explains, barely noticing gwen slipping away from the hall and into her bedroom.
now, it’s [y/n]’s turn to scoff.
“are you actually kidding me, parker? have you met you?” she questions him in disbelief, shaking her head at him as he shrugs, obviously trying to pretend that he isn’t making a big deal out of this, even though, he very much is.
“peter parker, do you have any idea how special and important you are? how much i value you… and who you are to me?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with absolute adoration for the dorky boy standing in front of her.
he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, as he notices the love and adoration for him in her eyes.
“god, parker…” she mumbles, still in shock of his answers.
without another thought of the memory of her having a super swollen face of bruises from her father, or the thought of her insecurities over gwen being the one everyone went for, instead of her, [y/n] impulsively places her hands on his cheeks and pulls him down to her height, placing her lips onto his in a soft and urgent kiss, showing him just how much he means to her.
a strangled sound of shock leaves his lips, causing him to instantly freeze in place.
but, once he realizes what’s going on, he immediately melts into her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
when she pulls away, [y/n] rests her forehead against his and breathes heavily, desperately gasping for air, before eventually whispering, “i know there’s a chance that you may not feel the same… and i’ll still always be here for you, even if it’s just as friends. but, i really needed to do that, at least once.”
she giggles as he laughs with her, gently placing his hands on her cheeks, careful to not put too much pressure on her bruises.
as the moment passes, and their temples are still pressed together, peter sighs, his eyes softening as concern fills him.
“i cannot believe your dad did this to you. what kind of man puts his hands on his own blood? his own daughter?” his voice comes out rough, something very unlikely of peter parker.
she sighs, looking up at him as she quickly becomes shocked at the anger in his voice.
of course, it’s not at her, but at her father.
she gulps, closing her eyes for a brief moment.
“a man who’s unsatisfied with his life does. but… it’s okay.”
he scoffs once more. “how is that okay? he could’ve really hurt you, [y/n]. i hate that i wasn’t there to protect you… i should’ve been there — i should’ve stayed.”
he fully pulls away from her as she opens her eyes with a soft smile placed on her lips, despite all that she’s been through.
“because i’m okay. besides, he doesn’t get to hurt me that much — i’m usually at gwen’s, or hanging out with you. so, i barely am at home.” she explains, but hesitates with her words when she sees the frown placed on his face.
“peter?” she whispers, cupping his cheeks in worry.
he lets out a gruff, “yes?”
“you know it’s not your fault, right? you… you couldn’t have known. and besides, it doesn’t matter that you weren’t there before — you’re here now.” she whispers, frowning at him.
he sighs, but nods.
“i’m just glad that you’re okay.” he mumbles.
“i—i really don’t know what i’d do, if you didn’t survive that. i would literally lose my mind without you in my life.”
[y/n] tilts her head in confusion.
“but… what about gwen? surely, she’d help you move on, right? you… you’d be happy with her.” she whispers, despite the fact that saying those words hurt her on a whole other level — she still isn’t sure where they stand, and whether he loves her or gwen.
and despite her insecurities, if he does love gwen the way she wishes he’d love her, she wouldn’t be bitter and she’d try to move on.
because no matter how bad being a last choice compared to gwen makes her feel, gwen is still like a sister to her, and she wants happiness for her just as much as she wants her own.
peter growls at her statement. “why do you talk like that?”
her eyes widen in shock for a split second, before she responds, “l—like what? what do you mean?”
“like you’re expendable… and like you don’t matter just as much as her! i know you’ve had self-confidence issues throughout the past few years, but you’re not a last choice. do you not get that?”
her brows knit together and tears cloud her vision.
“i—i don’t mean it like that. i just… i can’t see a world where you pick me, when she exists right in front of you. you’d be a fool not to pick her…” she whispers, voice raspy and croaking as the tears fall to her cheeks.
noticing this, peter sighs, rolling his eyes at her not seeing what he sees her as.
“because i love you. i don’t love her — she’s like a sister to me, and besides,” he pauses to wipe away her tears carefully. “you better get used to disappointment because i’m going pick you every damn time, baby.”
then, a shaky breath leaves her lips as they tremble.
“r—really? you… do you mean that, peter?”
without a second’s hesitation he nods. “yes. i’ve always loved you. and i’m not going to stop now.”
and with that, he pulls her in for a careful, but passionate kiss, both of them losing themselves in each other.
they’re both too distracted to notice their very best friend, gwen stacy, who had stepped back out into the hall to get a snack, standing with the biggest, happiest smile on her lips as she watches them finally get their happy ending — that’s what she always wanted for them.
and now? peter had finally gotten the one person he could show all his love and adoration to, and [y/n] finally got the boy of her dreams, who could show her what being loved is like, and how she could grow to love herself again.
