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ivyquill · 9 months

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only you (peter parker)

pairing: peter parker x reader alternate universe: none pronouns: ambiguous summary: after trying to break up with your boyfriend, he says something that you never would have expected. warnings: fluff parts: one-shot dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 1,071

You hadn’t expected it.

How quickly the words shot from his mouth.

“Then I won’t be Spider-man.”

How, with such ease, he was offering to change the entire trajectory of his life…

For you.

You blink at him, surprise wrapping over the features of your face and strangling your limbs frozen. “What?” Your voice echoes, almost sounding akin to a shout among the silence. Peter doesn’t answer at first. Your blabber-mouth boyfriend is silent. His face is soft and his body is stilling. His tearful gaze slowly rises to meet yours, his fingers twitch as they reach slowly for yours like a kitten testing a mouse but he doesn’t hesitate. You’re not even sure if he’s breathing. “Then I won’t be Spider-man.” You blink–almost flinch. “But you love Spider-man.” His fingers squeeze yours, you barely noticed that he had secured your hand in his already. “But I love you more.” He breathes, face gentle and patient. When you don’t reply, he slides slightly closer to you. “I don’t want to be Spider-man if it means not having you.” Your breath hitches a gasp but he barely reacts, expecting your surprise from your relationship or his senses you aren’t sure. His lips curl into a gentle smile as if he can hear your thoughts. You can feel your pulse in your throat, hear its bellowing begs to calm yourself. He leans in. “Spider-man means nothing if Peter Parker can’t have you.” Your lip tucks between your teeth which all feel too sharp all of a sudden.

You softly shake your head. “But ev-everything that you’ve worked for, everything that you’ve fought for–” He interrupts you by shaking his head and untangling from your hands. His own rise up to cup your face and press your foreheads together. “I love you more.” He repeats. The words make you more light-headed than alcohol ever could but you still lack conviction. “Petey, this is your future.” His eyes stutter closed at the familiar nickname and the warmth it permeates through his insides, toiling and tangling them like Christmas ribbon. “So are you,” He retorts, words smoothly gliding past his tongue. Your lips part but he presses his index to them, they scold you silently. “I want you to understand that I am yours, love. I am yours, no one else’s. I’m not May’s, I’m not Tony’s and I’m not New York’s.” A chuckle can’t help but bubble from his mouth. “I want to give you everything,” He lilts, voice sweet and gentle. “Whether that’s me or a thousand diamonds, I’ll make it happen, okay?” Your eyes flicker over his face in uncertainty but his smile looks so reassuring. Your arms wrap around his waist. “I don’t want to be the reason that you can’t do what you love.” You retort quietly, you want to sound sure and final but your breath trembles. His brows raise and he sidles you onto his lap, coiling your legs onto either side of his own. “Then maybe that can be arranged.” He teases and you hate the giggle that slips out of you. The only way you can describe Peter Parker is warm, gentle and yours…Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing but right now you aren’t sure whether it is right or wrong or misguided.

Peter’s thumb rolls gentle circles beneath your left eye, his nose brushes yours. Never have the both of you ever engaged in such intimate affection. “Peter Parker has the one thing that Spider-man never will and for once that’s more important to me than the whole universe.” His eyes trace over your face with a gentle grace you have never seen. His doe eyes trickle with warmth. You flick your tongue to dampen your dry lips. “What’s that?” You ask in a fragile whisper. His lips twitch up. “Your heart, darling” His eyes flutter shut. “I want to protect that far more than I want to protect Queens.” You can’t help the goofy giddiness that spreads throughout you. “I love you.” You murmur. He rolls his eyes and grins at you. “I know.” Peter teases. You almost push him away but you both know it would take a lot more than your weak-willed hands to twirl out of his grip. As if sensing your internal plots, his hands squish your cheeks. You wrinkle your nose, unimpressed. “It just hurts,” You explain. “Seeing you like this. Seeing you hurt and knowing that there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it but watch and wait.” A sigh flutters from his mouth. “I know, love, I know…” Then his brows cinch. “I don’t even know what I would do with myself if it were you out there instead.”

“This still doesn’t seem fair…” You murmur. He shakes his head and sighs, breath fanning over your lips. “Well lucky for you, it isn’t your decision to make fair.” He replies softly and almost teasing, a familiar playfulness seeping through. Peter’s right-hand fingers dip through the crevices of your hair, diving through the strands like pieces of thread. His touch tingles along your skin, sparks set up camp as if it’s their home. “I love you,” He utters again and it’s against your own hopes that you sigh with a light grin. “I know.” You respond. His lips turn up to tickle against yours. The skin of both your lips jigsaw into place, they brush in perfect tandem and radiate the heat you have been denying. His touch is tender and wanting, the gentleness of affection radiates as warm as a fireplace. Peter’s tongue dips out to line the seam of your lips. He pulls away. “I want a future with you–a future without villains in the way.” His voice lilts through your ears. “I want a real future with you. I-I knew someone once who lost their own you because of…this.” He gestures , perhaps you would giggle if the subject weren’t so somber. His eyes are dimmer now and something almost fearful lies just below his lids. He pecks a gentle kiss back onto your lips but lets it linger. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Your gentle assurance whispers in his ear. A shiver passes over him, his eyes flutter closed. His grip tightens. He knows now. He’s made peace with it. He needs you above everything else. Only you.

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periprose · 6 months

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okay i have a WILD amount of free time and I want to write for PS4/PS5 Peter Parker/Spider-Man, so if you have any requests, send away :D

I LOVE his personality and he just feels way more like the true Peter Parker/Spider-Man I've been waiting for!! I wanna write so much cute fluff for him :)

(I don't really discriminate between the old face and the new face lol I think they're equally cute. Might be because I have the remastered game)

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findmeinasunshower · 2 years

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𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔: 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓 (𝑴𝑪𝑼)

word-count: 2k

summary: fluff, takes place after spider-man: no way home

warnings: none :)

Anyone else wouldn’t have heard the near-silent sound of someone landing on your balcony. But after nights and nights of waiting for that telltale noise, it rings through your head loud and clear. You hop out of bed and throw open your double windows before Spider-Man can even knock on the glass.

He pauses in his knock with his hand midair. “Hi.”

You smile and pull yourself up onto your balcony. “Is the city safe?” you ask.

The hero sighs and turns so his back is away from your bedroom, leaning his elbows on the railing. “Yes, it is. Everything’s fine now.”

You nod. “Good. I didn’t think you were going to visit tonight after seeing the news.”

Spider-Man turns his head towards you, giving you the impression that he’s looking at you through his white lenses. “And miss spending time with you?” he jokes. “Never.”

You snort and roll your eyes, turning back toward your bedroom. “Alright, cornball. Well, I’m glad you came, because I still brought these up–” You pull the huge Ziploc bag of M&M’s off of the table by your window and hold it out to the web-crawler, who gasps and takes it greedily. “I’m always prepared,” you say proudly.

Spider-Man lifts the bottom of his mask, and you blink in slight surprise at the sight of the lower half of his face. It’s always strange seeing something other than the red and blue covering his visage, but you lose the reverence immediately as the hero shoves a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and lets out a truly ungodly sound. “You are a chocolate angel,” he moans.

You laugh at his enthusiasm and join him in leaning on the railing of your balcony. Earlier that day, you had been caught in the middle of a small battle between Spider-Man and a group of bank-robbers, who were engaged in a shootout with the cops. He had (very unnecessarily) scooped you up off of the ground and swung you three blocks away before depositing you on the ground. He gave you only a salute before he took off again, back toward the fight.

But he had saved your life. It’s not like you didn’t notice the guns that were turned on you when the thugs saw a civilian within their range–A shot civilian makes for a good distraction. But your late-night friend had stopped that from happening. You frown when said friend puts your bag of M&M’s on the ground but he explains by muttering “big dinner” which makes you smile. He doesn’t pull his mask back down.

You tilt your head at him, examining the way his mask and the small area of skin shine in the moonlight, and decide that a thank you is in order. While he was still looking toward the street, you raise up on your toes, softly and quickly brushing your lips against his cheek. Or at least that was what you meant to do. You meant to only kiss his cheek and then thank him for saving your life earlier that day, but apparently, your sudden proximity had spooked the spider. His face shifted the second your lips had neared his cheek, turning his face towards yours ever so slightly. Just enough so that your lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

Just enough to seem accidental, but enough that you’d felt just how soft his lips are.

You can imagine his eyes widening beneath his mask, just as yours currently are. Your noses bump as you very obviously try to put at least some distance between the two of you, but not enough to be out of reach, and never enough to not be able to feel him close.

A millennium could have passed, or just two seconds. Neither of you could be sure. Your warm breaths mingle in the cool night air, and Spider-Man becomes suddenly hyper-aware of everything that makes you you. Your bright (e/c) eyes are expectant, waiting to see what his next move will be because you sure as hell aren’t moving anytime soon.

“(y/n),” he whispers. “I think I’m going to do something really, really stupid.”

Stupid, because he’s a superhero. And you’re a girl from his class...before he disappeared off of the face of the earth. But you … you are just so beautiful and filled with absolute grace and courage, and if the two of you were in another world, you would have him knocking on your window every single day. Every day until you would have him for good. He can see it and although you would never admit it, you can see it too.

But you don’t move. And even though you don’t know it, your captivating eyes are gazing directly into his through the mask. He can only imagine what’s going through your head. Peter realizes that he has two choices: He could run away and keep the semi-normality that is his fucked up life; or, he could just fall. Risk the inevitable explosion that he knows is there.

He decides to fall. Consequences be damned to hell.

He closes the distance between the two with far more confidence than he actually feels. Spider-Man’s gloved hand frames the side of your face and his lips press against yours softly, but curiously, feeling just how soft they are and just how right they feel against his. If he was being honest, the hero’s only intention was a mere brush of his lips against yours, just to get a little taste of your warmth.

He was also sure that you were going to reject him, push him away, and he was already half-braced for what he thought was imminent rejection the moment he feels your fingers close around his wrist. But you don’t shove him back, much to his surprise. Instead, you stand up on your tiptoes and kiss him back, pulling him ever closer. Encouraged by you, Spider-Man’s other hand slides towards your waist before resting on the small of your back, and he curses every god that exists and could possibly exist for the gloved hand that prevents him from actually touching you.

You shudder against him, and he realizes that his hand is resting on the bare skin of your back, and it occurs to Peter that he might be going too far. He should stop. He thought you would stop him! This wasn’t why he’d started stopping by your balcony, or why he’d wanted to get to know you.

But then your tongue brushes timidly over his bottom lip, and Peter loses every ability to think coherently. His grip on you tightens and he presses his hand harder against the exposed skin of your back, drinking in the gasp that comes out of your lips. Sparks shoot all through his nervous system, and just like that, a soft and sweet kiss turns into fire. Whatever voice that was pleading for him to keep a hold on his sanity is exiled to the hidden corners of his mind the minute he feels you tug his face down closer to you.

You run one of your hands over his scalp and whimper, mourning the fact that you can’t run your fingers through the hair you feel shifting beneath the spandex. Peter is happy to oblige and give you the closeness that the both of you desire. His hand slides from your face to your neck, and the movements trail goosebumps along your skin that he can’t feel as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body flush against his.

He could kiss you for hours, but after a couple moments of letting his lungs scream for oxygen, Spider-Man breaks the kiss so your panted breaths meet between the two of you. Neither of you moves or even think about moving. For once, the city that never sleeps seems to be silent around you, and the stars watch with bated breath as the hero very reluctantly extracts himself from your embrace. You immediately miss the feel of his torso pressed against yours as the cool, night wind weaves around your body.

When you finally feel the pressure of his fingertips disappear from your neck, you manage to look up at him shyly. Your eyes meet nothing but a pair of swollen lips and two, blank white eyes. you blush deeply and, although you can’t really see it, Spider-Man does too.

“I have to go,” he whispers. You nod and look down at your bare feet on the metal of the fire escape. He takes hold of your wrists. “I don’t want to.”

You lift your gaze back up to him and blink up at him timidly through your lashes. He resists the urge to groan at how beautiful you look at that moment. As much as you’d like him to stay and kiss you all night, you know that he can’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” you inquire.

The boy beneath the mask grins and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, tomorrow.” You giggle at the way his voice cracks slightly, and you’re grateful that he seems to be just as nervous as you are. Spider-Man takes a step back and pulls the bottom of his mask back down to cover the bottom of his face. After tucking it into the fabric around his neck, he allows himself to look at you one more time. “Good night, (y/n).”

You smile fondly and cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to ward off the sudden chill in the air now that you’re not wrapped in the superhero’s arms. “Good night, Spider-Boy.”

He chuckles nervously at your teasing and gives you a smaller version of his signature salute before vaulting over the edge of your tiny balcony. You sigh in content and raise your trembling fingers to touch your lips. You can still feel them tingling with a glorious energy, and you smile to yourself, laughing almost incredulously at what just happened. Spider-Man just kissed you.

And you know that there will be consequences. There will be conversations about what this is, and what you want it to be, and how it’s going to work. There are complications that come with any relationship, but ten times more when it comes to a romance with a masked superhero. With someone who you don’t even know his name, and the unavoidable secrecy that hangs over the both of you like a cloud.

You lean your elbows on the cool metal railing and sigh to yourself, staring blankly into the street below. You think about the numerous nights that the boy has visited you, and the two of you have shared bags of M&M’s and various other snacks. You think about the late-night conversations about the most random of things, or more serious subjects where the two of you just lay it all out on the table. You realize that any sort of problem would be worth it as long as the two of you at least had a chance.

A loud bang rips you out of your stupor and you gasp at the feel of your fire escape shaking beneath you. When you look up from the alley, it’s to see Spider-man perched on the opposite side of the railing. “I’m sorry, I just had to do this one more time.”

And with that, he slams his lips against yours, and you don’t care that there’s a layer of fabric between the two of yours’ mouths. Kissing him through his mask is a strange feeling, but it has the same effect on you. Fireworks explode in your chest as you lean forward to cup his face in your hands. You feel him smile beneath his mask and you respond with a giggle of your own. You’re just two teenagers reveling in the wonderful, confusing feeling of newfound love.

Spider-Man leans back just enough that you can’t reach his lips with your kiss anymore, no matter how far you lean over the edge. “Good night,” he repeats himself, and with that, he lets go, spiraling into a free fall before he catches himself and swings off into the night.

Yes. It’s definitely worth it.

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eternalsams · 7 months

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Hi Sam,

Can you please write a head canon of Miguel O’Hara with reader? 🥺

Hi! I didn't know what kind of relationship you wanted with Miguel so I gathered headcanons if you were his friend, his partner or even if he was your father figure. Enjoy!

He's your friend:

He doesn't really show how much he cares about you but you can clearly see the difference on how he treats you and how he treats the others (at the Society if you're a Spider-Hero, or at Alchemax if you're not)

He can be rough with you but it's only so you can be better, he's your biggest supporter but will never admit it

You're one of the only ones he shares memories of Gabriella with, you can see he doesn't tell you everything but you don't mind, you're happy to hear those happy memories

Sometimes you both grab dinner together but it doesn't happen often because he's always in his office, watching the "Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse" (nerd)

He asks Lyla to check on you whenever he doesn't hear from you and always complains when you tease him about it because once again, he'd never admit how much he cares about you

He's your partner:

Again, he doesn't show how much he cares about you yet he show more than when you were just his friend

He's not really into PDA, especially at work but he always manages to brush a hand against you whenever you're close to him to let you know he thinks about you

I feel like his love language would be physical touch, this man is touch-starved you cannot change my mind, and a bit of act of service. He wouldn't say no to a massage at the end of a rough day.

He tells you so much about Gabriella and you love listening to him and seeing that spark in his eyes. He tells you what she would take for breakfast or when she'd get home from school with a good grade and they'd go out for pizza. You love listening to the man.

You also have to accept the fact that the Miguel you go home with and the Miguel at work are two different people. At the beginning of the relationship, that could've been an issue but you got used to it and accepted it.

18+

He prefers slow and intimate sex, when he can feel the connection between the two of you. But he would never say no to rough sex after a rough day, either that or the massage, that he can't choose.

Yes, he's got a breeding kink but I'm not sure if he would really want a kid, I think it's just sex talk. He definitely have a size kink, I mean, have you seen the man? Whether you're short, tall, thin or curvy, he's capable of manhandling you the way he wants and that drives him crazy.

He wasn't really good with aftercare when you first started dating but when you showed him how nice it could be, he never misses an occasion to comfort you and hold you close to him.

He's your father figure:

This time, he really show he cares about you, but the wrong way. He'd shout at you for risking your life on a mission or if you tried something stupid. He'd tell you he worries about you but the only thing you remember is how loud he yelled.

He's so scared he's gonna lose you he might get overprotective. He really doesn't want to live the loss of a kid once again. He doesn't know if he could survive it.

Whether you're 14 or 20, you're his kid. You don't call him "Dad" or anything but he considers you as his kid. He even once offered you to go home with him when you had nowhere to stay at or sleep. That was one of his best night of sleep, knowing you were safe and warm in the room next to his.

Always asks Lyla to track you and know where you are, because he always worries about you.

#miguel o'hara #spider-man #spider-man 2099 #spider-verse #across the spider-verse #marvel #mcu #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara headcanons #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man headcanons #spider-man 2099 x reader #spider-man 2099 x you #spider-man 2099 headcanons #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you

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literaila · 2 years

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dichotomy

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: even though you woul like to refuse his help, peter is careful and sweet. he’ll take care of you.

warnings: fluff, illness, medicine. and, you know, peter.

a/n: part one. (if you’ve seen this before no you haven’t)

perhaps this was supposed to feel terrifying.

the trickle of water, the incessant tragedy, flowing down your back in an incandescent reminder of where you were.

perhaps you were supposed to be afraid, should've been.

the honeysuckle air, a golden aura invading your senses crippling the so certain self-preservation that used to rest itself on the tip of your chest.

maybe you should've been scared by the unfamiliarity; the slightest nod towards you, the tiniest smile invading a sullen face.

there were so many things, so many possibilities hidden under a special pair of eyelids.

how glorifying it was to finally see.

to look around and feel nothing but the surety, the confidence that this was it.

to see the colors without all the spots.

to know so many things you could never understand. to comprehend insanity perfectly.

you really should've been terrified.

there was nothing usual here. nothing to point you in any good direction.

but you'd never claimed to follow a set path.

you could hear birds, whistling.

if there's anything to be thankful for, it's the golden-cast hue of sympathetic eyes as they look upon you.

not that you appreciate it in the slightest.

you don't need his pity.

but, you don't have time to protest his eyes, because a stricken fond look appears on his face.

"peter," you say, almost warning him.

"you look terrible."

he says it admirably, as if he weren't insulting you.

you frown.

he only rubs his thumb across your cheek, appreciating you in some creepy, unbelievably adorable way.

"that's rude," you tell him, trying to sit up on the bed, making room for him to sit down next to you. he does so willingly.

his hands are rough, calloused as they cradle your head.

he's so warm. it's disgusting.

"you're warm," he frowns then, without losing the insane look in his eyes. brings a hand up to your forehead. the frown increases.

it's a green flag. you've won.

"i feel freezing," you do make an effort to keep the smirk off of your face.

efforts are so often futile.

"you can just tell me if you want to cuddle," peter promises, looking into your eyes once again.

his brown is so irritatingly beautiful.

"ugh, gross."

and then you lay down again, turning to your side so that he can't look at you anymore.

some part of you feels embarrassed. and you know--you know--that you shouldn't. it's obvious in the sickeningly sweet way peter's still looking at you, in his warm hands and rough gentleness.

it's not embarrassing to be sick.

it's human.

and yet, there's something so trivial about it. it makes you want to crawl under the covers and tell your boyfriend to go away for at least a week until you rejuvenate yourself into something slightly more alive.

more human.

but peter hasn't mastered the art of reading minds. he simply moves from his place on the bed--you can hear him kicking off his shoes--and walks around to the other side--your eyes wide open because his presence fills you with something very close to energy--and sits down again.

right next to you.

still looking so very sweet.

"one," he says, smiling. "i'm offended. you love cuddling. two, have you been drinking water?"

"you probably shouldn't get so close to me," you nod to emphasize. "i'm diseased. spiders might be allergic."

"that doesn't even make sense."

"i'm dying, peter parker, and you don't want your last memories of me to be on my death bed."

it's a futile attempt because both of you know that he's not going to leave.

there's a pause, and then: "if you were actually dying i wouldn't leave your side for a moment." although you can hear the sarcasm in his voice, his brow still furrows.

a bit distraught at the prospect.

"not even once?" you ask.

peter, with half a smirk, leans down, his nose brushing against yours. "never."

you want to drink in his skin. you want to kiss him until neither of you can breathe and the world has fallen at your feet.

you want to keep him from getting sick.

so you push him away, albeit with a smile.

he stares at you for a moment, not bothering to protest, and pretends to think. "though, i'm sure i could figure out some way to save you, whatever it is."

"are you referencing magic?"

you say it with the excitement of a toddler. peter rolls his eyes. "science."

"how boring."

there is something familiar about his eyes. something so familiar about this moment, this breathtakingly powerful exhaustion that threatens to overcome your body.

you're not really that sick.

"you didn't answer my question."

you roll your eyes. "i had a gatorade at approximately 1400 hours, doctor. "

"that was three hours ago."

"it was a big gatorade. i'm dying. aid me."

"when was the last time you took any medicine?"

you smile at him, bigger than you have all day. "when i drank the gatorade."

"i'm bringing you nyquil."

"you're bold for assuming that i just have nyquil in my house, peter."

and of course, he only smiles, bringing his hand down to craddle your face again--

briefly. it reminds you of something else. some kind of intimacy that you've missed for so long. it feels like a gentle reminder, a roaring fact that he's there, that he's with you, that he cares, despite whatever guilt swims around your insides, infecting every inch of you.

briefly, a memory flashes behind your eyes.

and then it's gone, and so is his hand.

he's still smiling at you.

"i know you, you know," he says. "i stopped at the pharmacy before i came over."

something pokes at your heart.

"did you get more gatorade?"

peter laughs, standing up. "course."

"how mad would you be if i kissed you?"

peter's eyes are so perfectly intimidating.

he sees beyond the careful sculpture of your face. he looks at your eyes, and the sullen-like infraction of your nose, at the blemishes and scars--all the bad, all the good--and he just knows.

he's unrelentingly observant.

still. "on a scale from one to ten?" you ask.

he nods, a soft smile as he plays with your fingers.

you've drunk all the water, taken all the medicine. you've completely embarrassed yourself in sneezes and coughed until peter actually looked concerned.

and yet here he sits, looking so perfectly content.

it's entirely unfair.

"hmm," you say, pretending to think. "a million."

he barely looks at you. "you know, i don't think you can get me sick."

"it's shocking to me that you can think in the first place."

his eyes meet yours, something like defiance. "mean."

you look away, feign apathy. "oh i suppose, peter," you say, curling the words on your lips as he brings your hand up to his own. it tickles, but not enough to break you. "as long as you think it'll all be fine. and i guess if you think neither of us will die of disease, then go right ahead-"

peter's smiling, trying to get you to look back at him. you barely notice when he tilts your head back towards him in the simplest of gestures.

"i'm going to kiss you now," he says, but you're not listening.

"-and if you think we should go get matching spider tattoos right now, then we have to, because as long as you think-"

he interrupts you in the cruelest of ways.

his lips are soft, a particular brand of torture.

it's barely three seconds, barely one peck and pull and push you away, but it's just enough to give you the need to gasp for air. it's just enough to be too much.

you're so hesitant to let him go.

so scared to finally breathe. so afraid to let it go.

you push him away. "you're going to get sick, peter."

he's so close, you can feel his breath on your philtrum. he's so close, he's melting his smiles into you.

"it's worth it," he promises you in a bout of stupidity.

"not to me," you insist, trying to get him to move even further back.

but he's peter, and so he doesn't even budge.

you sigh, hands right against his chest--no, you're not paying attention to that, nor the heat flooding your body. "if you get sick i'm going to have to nurse you back to health."

luckily, peter laughs, taking your hands. "oh, that's what this is about?"

"i'm busy, peter," you whine.

"so unappreciative," he tsks, shaking his head.

you've been sitting together on your bed for the past hour.

"you literally just brought me gatorade."

"and medicine."

"and medicine. do you want me to venmo you?"

peter scoffs. "please."

he moves then, seeming to realize what you had moments before, getting up from the spot he'd dug out for himself and standing just a bit above you.

it might be scary. it's really just cute.

he's barely smiling. "will you move over?"

"uncomfortable?"

"we're cuddling. you're sick."

you hum. "are you going to make me do this when you're sick?"

peter doesn't answer, he's trying to hide his smile, trying not to stare at you with those unappreciative, hopeless eyes.

you're thankful for that if anything. grateful for his hesitance, even now.

it's a brief tether to reality.

a wake-up call.

he doesn't answer, instead, gestures his head to the side, gently moving you away from the edge of the bed.

you don't protest. maybe it's the lack of energy, but you really do love cuddling.

love to tie yourself down.

peter moves in right next to you, sweatshirt bunching at his waist, and opens his arms, making room for you in the solace of his embrace.

you go oh so willingly.

he's warm--he's always warm, it's a quirk--and you're freezing.

that's your excuse for melting your skin together until you can feel nothing but him.

it's so very simple, to be welded here.

there are only satisfying burns.

only the golden aura of peter, all his acuity punched into your chest. you love it.

"comfortable?" he asks, only slightly mocking you.

"this is terrible."

"i know," you feel him nod his head against yours. you're curled up into his neck, smelling the flowers.

"the worst," you say, again.

"i know," peter repeats.

you think you can feel him smiling.

and there's just a brief moment, guilt, flowing into your skin.

ruining the limbs you'd glued together.

"thank you," you say, just loud enough for peter to hear. "i didn't say it. thank you."

"you don't have to thank me."

but you shake your head, cuddle closer to him.

this is peace, this is agony.

"i can't remember the last time anyone took care of me when i was sick."

it's not really a lie.

peter sighs, holds you tighter. "i don't like it when you're sick."

you move, back letting a smile tease at your lips, your eyes meet his. "it's not so bad," you tell him.

"i kinda think you might be faking."

you cough, just to prove him wrong.

he laughs, and you can feel the vibration right in your core.

"don't worry," you say, voice groggy. "you'll get me back."

peter just nods, brown eyes so soft on yours.

his presence is comfort you might've known, just once.

or twice.

you crave more. more energy, more smiles, more laughter, more perfection--carved out in the subtlest of hearts.

"i'll take care of you."

peter promises things. so many things you can't begin to comprehend, can't begin to believe.

"me too," you say.

and it's enough. for now.

how nice it is to open your eyes.

how perfectly perfect is this?

part two.

my masterlist here.

#andrew garfield x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #the amazing spider-man fic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #spider-man #spider man #Andrew!Spiderman #spider-man x you #tasm!spider man #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you

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multi-obsessed-fanfic-writer · 2 years

Text

Interviews with Spider-Man (Peter Parker x Reader)

Author's Note: Hey guys! This is my first fic in a while but I thought I'd write for Peter Parker because he's one of my all-time favs from the very beginning. I hope y'all enjoy this and feel free to start requesting things again! I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things. Also, if anyone wants to become mutuals, my dm's are totally open :)

Requested?: Nope!

Summary: (Y/n), in an effort to save the school newspaper club, scores an interview with Spider-Man.

Interviews with Spider-Man

Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: None! Just fluff for this one!

“If you don’t get interest sparked in the newspaper by the student body soon, and I mean very soon, then I’m afraid I’ll have to shut down the club,” Principal Morita says as he frowns at you.

You’re sitting across from him at his desk, jaw dropped at the sudden news.

“Principal Morita, that’s not fair! The newspaper is important to a lot of people!” You protest, forcefully putting your hands on the ends of his desk as you stand up. He gives you a stern look, causing you to sheepishly sit back down.

“Is it important to a lot of people, or is it just important to you, (Y/n)?” He asks, his words coming out with a sigh. You grimace. Yes, the newspaper was mostly important to you, but that didn’t mean that everyone else hated it. You had a good team of four people by your side that worked hard for the newspaper, too, including Michelle Jones and Betty Brant.

“It’s more than just me, I can assure you.” You set your mouth into a firm line, eyebrows creasing together as you give him a hard stare.

“Great. If it’s so important to that many people, then you won’t have any trouble getting the student body’s interest, will you?” He smiles dauntingly at you. Your eyes widen.

“Well, I--”

“You’re dismissed, Miss (Y/l/n). We’ll have another meeting in two weeks to discuss this. If newspaper readings haven’t picked up by then, I’m afraid there won’t be good news for you.”

You pick up your bag with a huff and turn on your heel, heading for the door. If Principal Morita didn’t believe in you, then you’d just have to find someone who does.

~+~

“He seriously said that to you?” Betty asks incredulously, placing a hand on her hip.

“Yup. So we gotta figure this out quickly,” You say.

“I mean, we could spice things up by having a photo on the front? That catches attention,” MJ pipes in with her idea.

“That’s a great idea MJ, but who’s gonna take the picture? None of us are exactly…” You glance over to the two other guys in the newspaper club, typing furiously on their computers, “artistic in that way.”

“We may not be, but I’m sure we could find someone.” Betty shrugs, looking at you and MJ.

“Peter Parker is good with photography.” MJ points out. Your eyes light up.

“Yes! I have my next class with him, he’s my lab partner. I’ll ask him if he’s up for being on the newspaper team,” You say, grinning ear to ear at the prospect of the club being saved. As newspaper club president, you feel very strongly about this going well. After all, it’s your senior year and this is one of the most important things to you. You can’t just give up on it.

“Well, the bell’s about to ring, so you better get headed that direction.” Betty pats you on the back. You grab your backpack and start heading for your chemistry class, working up the courage to ask Peter to join the newspaper club. You have talked to him before, but only really for class purposes. He’s not exactly a friend, per se, so you’re a little nervous to ask a favor from him. But you’d do anything to save your club.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” Peter greets you as he sets his backpack down and sits next to you.

“Hey, Parker.” You smile at him, turning back to your work nervously as you mull over what you want to say to him.

“You okay?” He asks, face contorting slightly in concern as he sees your in-thought expression.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I just…the newspaper club is getting shut down soon if we don’t get more of the student body to read it, so…I’m a bit bummed about that.” A bit bummed is an understatement, but he doesn’t need to know that at this point.

“Seriously? I love reading the school newspaper every week. Is there anything I can do to help?” He asks. You turn to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Actually, there is…”

“How?”

“Would you be able to take photos for the school paper? Just one a week, so we can put it on the cover and catch more people’s attention with it.” You plead, giving him small puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, uh, yeah! I’d definitely be willing to do that for yo-- uh, the newspaper club.” He laughs, a light shade of red dusting his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. The blush escapes you as the only thing you can think about is the fact that he agreed to do it.

“Thank you!” You gasp, hugging him tightly. You let go quickly and grab your phone, immediately texting the newspaper group chat and missing the dazed look that Peter has on his face.

~~~

You: PETER SAID YES!!

MJ: fr? Awesome

Betts: YES! NEWSPAPER SAvED!

MJ: don’t get too excited, it has to actually work first

You: MJ, pls, stop being negative and let us bask in the win

MJ: whatever you say

~~~

“When do you need the first photo by?” Peter asks. You think about it. The newspaper usually publishes on Monday of every week, and it’s currently Friday, so tomorrow or Sunday should probably do. That way, you have time to format it before you send it to get printed.

“Tomorrow, if that’s okay,” You say.

“Tomorrow? What’s the subject that I’m even photographing?” Peter looks at you quizically. You deadpan. Crap, that’s kind of important to know. But if the next meeting with the principal is in two weeks, you can’t wait until the second week to put your plan into action.

“Well, I was thinking of writing a column on Spider-Man, but…I don’t know, that’ll be hard to capture a photo of him…” You trail off, brainstorming any way to make this happen and save your newspaper. Truth is, you had no intention on creating a Spider-Man column this week, but the idea came to you since your previous column, “Budget Cuts to Midtown,” seems a tad bitter now that the newspaper team is part of the cuts.

“Well…I’ll see what I can come up with, and we can meet up tomorrow to talk about it?” He asks, getting out a piece of paper. You nod furiously, internally sighing about your lack of a plan otherwise.

Peter grabs a pen and slides the piece of paper and pen over to you.

“If you’ll write down your number, I’ll text you tomorrow about the photo and we can talk about it. Sound good?” He asks. Your eyes drop to the paper and you start to write your number out, missing his small exhale as you do so.

“Sounds great. I’m sorry for the short notice, I promise it won’t be like this every week. Just do what you can and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” You grimace, sliding the paper over to him.

“Of course. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” He gives you a reassuring smile, taking the paper and slipping it into his pocket.

“Alright, class! Stop chatting, it’s time for learning…” Your teacher gets up and starts droning on about chemical compounds.

All you can think about is your Spider-Man column and what you’re going to write for it. Sure, the masked hero is constantly in the news, but what could you write about him that the kids wouldn’t be able to get on the internet literally anywhere else? It had to be special, something worth reading, something that would spark interest.

But what?

~+~

Peter: Hey (Y/n), it’s Peter. I have an idea for the school newspaper. Can we meet up?

You: Yeah, of course! Where do you want to meet?

Peter: Would Delmar’s deli on the corner work? I know we live relatively close to each other.

You: Yeah, that works great for me. Meet you there in like ten?

Peter: Perfect. See you soon!

~~~

You grab your laptop and head out the door almost immediately, arriving at Delmar’s about ten minutes later. Peter is already sitting at a table outside, his hand shooting up to wave at you as soon as he sees you. You grin at him and walk slightly faster, arriving at the table and sitting down across from him.

“So, whatcha got?” You hum, bringing out your computer and opening it up.

“Well, I’ve got good news and a new idea.” He gets out his own laptop and starts typing furiously. You cock your head to the side.

“A new idea?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. You’re all for new ideas when it comes to the newspaper nowadays.

“Yeah. So, first off, I got this photo.” Peter spins his computer around and shows you an incredible shot of Spider-man swinging from a building.

“Holy crap, Parker, that’s incredible! How did you get that?” You gasp, practically grabbing the computer out of his hands as you stare at the incredible detail and precision of it. It looks entirely professional and way too good to be true.

“You could say I…called in a favor. Anyway, onto my idea. Have you figured out your Spider-man column yet?”

No. You have not. Honestly, you had been trying all night to come up with an idea, but nothing was inspiring you, and you had no clue what to write about. Nothing was original at this point when it came to the infamous superhero.

“...No.” You sigh, planting your face in your hands.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry! I was just asking because I had an idea for it, but I didn’t want to ruin any ideas that you potentially had!” He reassures you, reaching out and innocently touching your forearm. You look up at him.

“What’s your idea?” You ask.

“Well, you could interview Spider-man. That could be the column, an interview with Spider-man.”

You look at him with the blankest face you can muster. How in the world were you, a mere student at Midtown High, going to score an interview with a literal superhero? He must be literally insane.

“Peter, I hate to shut down a good idea, but that’s impossible.” You deadpan.

“(Y/n), no it’s not--”

“How would I get an interview with a literal superhero? It’s not like I can just stop him in the street and say ‘Hey, Mr. Spider-man, would you mind if I asked you a couple questions’--”

“That’s not what you would--”

“Like, how insane would that be! Parker, seriously, if you’re going to get my hopes up, at least--”

“Would you listen to--”

“An interview with Spider-man! Ha! it actually sounds absurd--”

“I know Spider-man!” Peter blurts out, causing you to stop in your tracks and go silent.

“You what?” You whisper, eyes widening.

“I have a Stark internship, (Y/n). I see him all the time, I can ask him for a favor and set up a meeting with you. When would you want to meet?” He asks, his eyes boring into yours. Your breath hitches in your throat under the intensity of his gaze.

“Could you secure an interview for tomorrow?” Your words barely come out, shock still overcoming pretty much all of your brain functions.

“I can try. I’ll talk to him later today at the compound and I’ll text you what he says before tonight. Sound good?” He asks, a small smile making its way to his face.

“Sound good? This is the best thing I think that has ever happened to me.” You blink rapidly at him, finally settling back into a normal state. An interview with Spider-Man? You’re on cloud nine, in all honesty. If this is truly happening, then the newspaper would be saved without question.

“Great. I’ll talk to you later, then. I gotta get going.” He stands up and turns to leave, hesitating for a moment.

Peter turns back to you, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, don’t worry, we’ll save the newspaper, alright?” He reassures you. You stare up at him with a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“I know we will,” You say.

Peter gives you one last nod before hurrying off to what you assume is his internship duties. You stand up from the table, closing your laptop and shoving it into your bag.

An interview with Spider-Man.

What could get better than that?

~+~

You can barely contain your excitement as your eyes keep drifting to the alarm clock on your bedside table. You get to meet Spider-Man any minute now. The clock flashes “2:17 AM” at you but you could honestly care less about the early hour that he chose to meet you, claiming he had to do it after his patrol was over.

Three taps on your window bring you abruptly out of your thoughts as you hop up and frantically scurry over to the window. You slide it up and come face-to-face with the masked hero you had heard so much about.

“Holy crap you’re actually here- Spider-Man,” You say breathlessly, shock overwhelming you.

“Uh, yeah, Peter said you wanted an interview with me?” He asks, the voice under the mask obviously being distorted for identity reasons.

“Absolutely- uh, do you want to come in or for me to come out?” You ask, grabbing your phone.

“Maybe it’d be best if you come out. Don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” He chuckles, and you think about the many implications of that statement. Nevertheless, you aren’t able to dwell on it for long because you’re stepping outside onto the fire escape right next to the Spider-Man of New York City.

“Wow, I’m-- I never actually introduced myself properly. I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n), it’s nice to meet you Spider-Man.” You force out nervously, holding your hand out for him to shake. He laughs and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/n).”

“Uh, before we get started, I have to ask: is it okay if I record this conversation? If you say anything you don’t want to go on record or in the newspaper you can just tell me after the fact or say ‘strike that’ and I’ll pretend it never happened.” You go over the formalities quickly.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” He agrees. You sigh in relief and turn the voice memos on in your phone.

“So, what made you want to become a superhero?” You ask, staring into the white eyes of his mask.

“Well, uh…I suppose, I was gifted with powers one day and decided to use them for the better. As someone once told me, ‘great power comes with great responsibility’ and he was right. Mr. Stark approached me and offered me a spot on the team, and I accepted.” He explains, his mask’s eyes moving in sync with how you expect his facial expressions to read.

“Gifted?” You prod, writing down sketches of notes that you want to remember from the interview that the voice notes won’t catch. Mainly, the moving of his mask eyes.

“Sorry?” He asks, a hand scratching the back of his neck. You wonder if he can feel the scratch of his hand through his suit.

“Oh, sorry, I was asking if you think that your powers are a gift. I know some might consider them a curse rather than a blessing,” You state simply as you continue to look down at your notepad.

“I-” Spider-Man seems at a momentary loss, “Man you really don’t hold back on your interviews, do you?”

This causes your head to snap up and look at him, realizing the bluntness of your question to him.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to--”

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll answer it. It was just funny to me, don’t worry,” He laughs, a joyous noise to your ears, “yeah, I uh… I would consider it a gift. I get to help others, and that’s honestly all I could ever ask for. It is to the detriment of myself sometimes, sure, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s helped me become the person I am today.”

“That’s very inspiring, Spider-Man, thank you.” You smile at him, getting a warm feeling in your body. Spider-Man seems like a very likeable, down-to-earth individual and you feel very lucky to get to know him like this.

“So, what is it like being on a team with the Avengers?” You ask.

“Well, the team is great. Mr. Stark--”

As Spider-Man continues to talk about the Avengers and how incredible of a team it is, you take to your notepad. Mr. Stark, you think, so he’s young. A teenager perhaps? You ponder. If he’s a teenager, then that means he’s most likely your age. And if he’s your age, then…

No. Nope. No way. Do not get a crush on Spider-Man.

“--and Captain America is very funny. Kind of oblivious to modern technology sometimes, but a great guy and I really like working with him. I like working with all of them, honestly, it’s a dream come true.” Spider-Man ends his listing. You look up at him and smile softly.

“They seem like a great group of people to work with. I’m honestly jealous.” You laugh, and you see the eyes of his suit perk up at your laugh. This intrigues you.

“Well, I’m sure you’re also awesome to work with. I’m kinda jealous of Peter for getting to work with both the Avengers and you!” He chuckles. Is he…flirting?

“Well, technically, you get to work with me now, too. Unless this is like a one-time thing in which case--” You stammer out, embarrassed that you assumed he’d be coming back.

“No, of course I’m coming back. Talking with an incredibly witty, beautiful girl like you for hours on end into the night? I can’t complain.” He tells you. Definitely flirting.

“Well, thank you. I suppose I could say the same, but I don’t know what you look like under the mask,” You tease.

“We both know I can’t show you that.” He shakes his head lightly but you can tell the smile is still on his face.

“Oh, I know. And I’m not asking, let’s be clear about that. We’ll keep your anonymity for now, Spider-Man.” You grin at him.

“For now?” He asks, the amusement evident in his voice.

“What, I can’t say I won’t get curious one day.” You taunt him. He puts his hands up.

“Alright, alright. I suppose I can’t blame you for that.”

“Now, to continue with a few more questions…”

~+~

You had been meeting with Spider-Man every Sunday night for about two months at this point. The newspaper was met with huge success after the Spider-Man interview column was introduced, and the principal was forced to keep the newspaper going. In fact, you had kind of become a celebrity at school for knowing Spider-Man. Peter Parker had basically become your best friend during this time, and you couldn’t thank him enough for scoring that first interview with Spider-Man. All of the success you’re experiencing now is all because of him, and you don’t let him forget that. Besides, you’ve kind of been growing a crush on Spider-Man, so you have to thank Peter for introducing you to him in that capacity as well.

“Hey, Parker.” You slide up to Peter in the hallway, walking to chemistry class with him.

“Hey, (Y/n/n).” Peter smiles at you.

“TGIF, am I right?” You chuckle. He gives you a weird face.

“How old are you again?” He asks, eliciting a laugh from you. His eyes light up at your laugh, unbeknownst to you. You look back at him and he tries to hide his face of delight at making you laugh.

“Oh come on, you have to be a little happy that it’s Friday. We have movie night tomorrow night!” You remind him. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ had all created ‘Saturday move marathon night’ and it had been successful so far. Tonight’s movie is Revenge of the Sith, courtesy of Peter and Ned. Not that you’re complaining, though.

“Of course I’m happy it’s Friday. I wouldn’t miss movie night for the world. Come on, let’s get to class. We can’t be late again.”

~+~

That night, you’re putting away some clean clothes and listening to music when you hear a distinct three taps on your window. Your eyes dart to the clock next to you that reads “2:43 AM” in bright red lettering. You turn around and see Spider-Man’s iconic suit standing at the window.

Rushing over, you slide the window up and stare at him confused.

“You’re two days early, you’re not supposed to be here until Sunday night.” You remark, brows furrowed. He doesn’t respond, instead tumbling through your window right past you. You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from yelping. He had never come into your room before, so you are beyond confused as to what is happening.

“Help.” You hear his strained voice manage to get out, without the voice modulator covering it.

Oh crap. He’s hurt.

“Oh my god, Spider-Man, what’s wrong? What happened?” You frantically ask, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around your shoulders to support him as you walk over to your bed and lay him down on it. You see scrapes and blood covering his body as his suit is torn up in places.

“Fight…went wrong.” He forces out, and you can see how labored his breathing is as his chest heaves up and down.

“Okay, uh, give me one second-” You run to your medical cabinet in your house and grab everything you think might be helpful.

You run back to your room as quietly as possible and get out what you found: a clean warm wet wash towel, sterile gauze, antibacterial ointment, and a small sewing kit. Luckily, your mom is a nurse and taught you a few things on stitching people up in case you ever needed it, which you never thought you would but here you are.

“Stay still. This is going to hurt a little bit, but please don’t move as that will just make it worse.” You instruct, getting to work. You stop the bleeding, clean the wounds, apply the ointment, and start to stitch him up. He winces every so often, but does as you told him and keeps pretty still the whole time.

“Thank you.” He murmurs once you’re done. You can tell he’s exhausted, and you feel bad for him.

“I’m only glad I could help. You worried me there for a second, Spidey.” You admit, laying a hand on his shoulder. You didn’t notice while you were working since you were so worried about him, but dang does he have some abs on him.

You notice your staring and look away, clearing your throat and hoping that he didn’t notice.

“No need to worry, I’m tough,” He says, and you can tell he’s trying to smile under his mask. You sigh and look at him with a tense look, obviously still worried about his condition. He tries to sit up next to you, but you sternly push him back down onto the bed by his shoulders.

“Stay there for a little bit. I don’t want your wounds opening back up.” You explain to him.

“How long?” He asks. You think you recognize his unmodulated voice for a moment, but you brush it off as a coincidence.

“Until morning at least--”

“Technically it is morning.”

“You know what I mean. My parents are usually out Saturday mornings and they don’t check on me before they leave, so you’ll be safe here for now.” You tell him, studying his masked face. He seems to return your gaze, committing your features to memory.

Your hands that rested on his shoulders start to inch toward his neck, laying there for a moment but not daring to lift up his mask.

“Is today the day you’re curious?” He whispers. A smile quirks up on your face.

“Maybe…” You respond, finding the line where his mask meets his suit. You trace your fingers along the line. You decide to play it bold and creep the mask up slightly. You see the tan skin of his neck and can’t help but pull the mask over his jaw all the way up to his nose. You see his lips and your breath hitches.

He hasn’t stopped you, but you fear pushing the boundary any further than this since he didn’t technically tell you it was okay. Instead, you opt to let go of the mask and run your hand along his jaw and down his neck. Finally, you reach up and rub a thumb over his lips in the ghost of a motion, the singular move sending a shiver down your spine. A long silence envelops the two of you as you both stare intently at each other.

The silence is broken by Spider-Man who mutters a small ‘screw it’ before his lips are on yours. You’re surprised at first, a small noise of surprise leaving your lips, but you quickly melt into his touch. You rest one hand on his chest and the other on his neck as his gloved hands come to your waist and face. You could stay like this forever.

The two of you break apart and stare at each other with what you assume to be shock. That’s what it is for you, at least. Spider-Man just kissed you.

“I-I don’t even know who you are.” You breathe out, reality hitting you. You may know Spider-Man, but you don’t know him.

“You do.” Spider-Man reaches up to the edge of the mask.

“Wait! I- I don’t… If you can’t…” You stumble for the words, not wanting him to jeopardize his identity for you.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long, (Y/n/n). Trust me.” He lifts the edge of the mask until it’s entirely off and fallen to the bed. You gape at the man before you.

“Pete?” You whisper, a hand slowly coming to cover your open mouth.

“Hey, (Y/n/n).” He chuckles nervously.

“I’ve been crushing on my best friend this entire time.” You murmur to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You quickly clear your throat and look him up and down.

“So, the Stark internship--”

“Is just a cover for you being Spider-Man? Yeah, I think I figured that one out, genius.” You finish the sentence for him, setting your hand back down on his shoulder.

“Are you mad?” He asks, and you can tell he’s apprehensive for your answer.

“No. Shocked? Yes. But mad? No. You’re saving people’s lives, I can’t be mad at you for that.” You admit.

“But I lied to you.” He frowns.

“I mean, yeah, technically. But I’d do the same, so I’m not going to exactly blame you for that. Thank you for telling me now, though.”

“So does that mean I can kiss you again?” He asks, a small smile gracing his features. A light blush rises to your cheeks.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t hesitate. In a moment, he’s pulling you back down to him and his lips are on yours. You kiss him feverishly, wishing the moment would last forever again. Who would have known that Peter Parker could have been Spider-Man. All this time, you thought Peter had introduced you to the love of your life when in reality he’s been sitting right in front of your face.

“Movie night tomorrow night will be interesting.” Peter chuckles, running his thumb over your cheek.

“More than,” You agree, leaning down to peck his forehead, “now get some rest tonight, Spider-Man.”

“Lay with me?” He asks, getting into a more comfortable position on the bed so you can lay down with him.

“Gladly.” You smile and get into bed next to him.

This was certainly quite the interesting couple of months, but you’re not complaining. After all, the newspaper got saved, and you figured out that your crush and best friend are the same person and that he likes you back. Overall, you’d say that the interviews with Spider-Man proved to be a leaping success.

~+~

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! Again, requests are open and so are my dm's! Have a great day!

166 notes · View notes

galexystern · 10 months

Text

normal is the new extraordinary - only on ao3

pairing; peter parker/reader

rating; T

warnings; use of y/n, fluff, angst

word count; ~12k / 6 chapters

desc; You and Peter have been dating for about a year when it's time for you to meet the Avengers. Everything is going well, until one of them points out to Peter just how normal you are.

read on ao3 / masterlist

preview;

You peer up at the compound through the car windshield. It's massive, and you feel small in comparison. You wring your hands in your lap as you crawl up the long driveway and park next to some fancy cars. You look out the window at them. A Maserati? Wow, you're definitely in the wrong place.

Peter puts the car in park and shuts off the engine. The A/C stops blowing, the radio is silenced, and you're left in complete quiet. You can practically feel Peter's excitement radiating next to you.

"Are you ready?" He asks giddily, and you'd laugh at his childlike nature if you weren't so goddamn nervous. All you can do is stare at the big "A" on the building in front of you.

read on ao3

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider man fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #the avengers fanfiction #mine

16 notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 2 years

Text

things are looking up

peter parker x reader

requested by: me, bitch

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff

warnings: language, awkward rambling, flash thompson, mentions of alcohol, angsty peter for a bit

a/n: and we’re BACK. fitting for me to return with writing something about andrew garfield’s spider-man. when i tell you i was OBSESSED with these films when i was like 12, i mean it. anyways, please enjoy, and take this as a peace offering for disappearing for like two years lol

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After going to a different dimension and meeting two other Peters, he actually had hope restored. He knows it’s not ideal to have your whole life dependent on a significant other, but he just can’t help it. He has so little in this world already that Gwen was truly his everything. So, hearing that Peter and Peter both had MJs? That gave him hope. Because he probably had an MJ too, huh? Well, he better work hard to get her. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to do things again. His friendly neighborhood Spider-Man antics have picked up again, he’s been actually going places, Aunt May has been concerned about him because he’s going out instead of staying in again. It was all getting better. And he’s been going new places every day to see if he could find his MJ and trying his best to see new people as often as he can.

And that is why he decided to get a part-time job at a bar as a bartender. It’s an easy way to meet loads of people, and a good way for him to make some money so he doesn’t get evicted… again. He usually works during the day, but his kind-hearted nature made him agree to switch shifts with a coworker for a Saturday night shift. While, yes, it was a slight inconvenience to his main job, he had to take this shift. So here he was, advanced shock absorption earplugs he designed for his hypersensitive ears in and making drinks and listening to this local punk-pop band. Now, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the sound of this band. And he would also be lying if he said the lead singer was incredibly attractive. And angry. So angry. It was kind of hot.

But he was running around, making drinks, getting tips, being “nice” to everyone and taking the occasional angry and rude customer, when he sees Flash walk in. Now, Peter hasn’t seen Flash since graduation, but he still looked almost exactly the same. Maybe a little bit more hair, but still textbook Flash, and he silently hopes he doesn’t have to make him any drinks. But unfortunately for Peter, mans just doesn’t seem to have any luck. Ever. At all. “Parker?!”

“Oh, hey Flash! Hey, man,” Peter mumbles out, spraying water into a glass for a patron who has had way too much already. “What’re you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you behind a bar of all places,” he says, and Peter shrugs. “Well, when you think about it bartending is kinda like chemistry, so I guess it makes some sense,” he says, grabbing the tip someone left him. “I guess, but I just expected you to be working in a lab or some other nerd shit, I don’t know,” he says, and Peter gives him a tight grin. “Yeah, well, I’m not, so. What will you have Flash?”

“A Long Island Iced Tea, bro.”

It takes literally everything for Peter to not roll his eyes. “Alright, man, coming right up,” he says, and turns to grab all the alcohol required for that damn drink. It’s too many alcohols and all-around disgusting and it gets whoever drinks it sloshed and Peter just really hates this drink, but he begins mixing all of it together. “So, uh, you going to college, or…?” he hears Flash start asking. Of all the times for the band to take a break, they pick right now so he has to speak to him because he can actually hear. To be fair, though, the crowd is pretty low energy and sparse right now, so he doesn’t blame the band. He just blames Flash, to be honest. “Yeah, yeah, I got accepted to Empire State University after we graduated and I’m currently going but it’s summer, so currently on break,” he answers and Flash nods. “Yeah, yeah… I actually go to ESU too, now, you know?” he says and Peter glances at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I kinda hated Dakota State, so I transferred here,” he responds, and Peter gives a tight-lipped smile and nods, finishing up his drink and handing it to him. “There you go, man,” he tells him. “Thanks, Parker, maybe I’ll see you around this year?”

“Yeah, maybe you will,” he says, and watches as he downs the drink. Like, way too fast. He slides his card over to him, and clarifies that he wants to open a tab, so Peter tapes it to the wall next to the cash register and goes on to serve some more people. After about 10 minutes he hears the band start playing again, and he makes another Long Island for Flash. About 20 minutes into the band playing again, he sees the glass is empty. And now Flash is… visibly fucked up. He’s talking to a bunch of girls and trying so hard to look cool, this man is still… really stuck in high school ways it seems. Of course, he isn’t as much of a bully for no reason, but he still thinks he’s hot shit. And while Peter can accept the fact that, yes, Flash is attractive, he still can’t believe he’s so full of himself. But who is Peter to think that? At least Flash is able to ask people out. For now he’s just going to do his job, and listen to the music. And that’s a pretty solid plan until a significant amount of time goes by (in which he kept making drinks for Flash) to the point where the band is now done with their set. Now, he has to listen to Flash’s obnoxiously loud voice.

Flash stumbles back over to the bar and Peter sighs. “Give me a shot, Parker,” he slurs out and Peter shakes his head no. “You’re far too fucked up, Flash. Not gonna do that,” Peter says, and begins cashing him out. He ignores the protests from Flash and hands his card and the receipt he needs to sign back to him. “Come on, man, just one more?”

“No, Eugene. Sign. You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, I am now please sign and-”

“Here you go bud,” Peter hears a voice he doesn’t recognize and turns his head in the direction of the voice. He recognizes it as the lead singer of the band who played tonight, and he watches as you hand a shot glass to Flash. “On me,” you say, and Flash smirks at them before taking the shot. “Great, now why don’t you head home?” Peter says, and Flash begins to say something, but he gets cut off by you. “I think that’s a good idea, too, actually. Besides, it’s around 3am anyways, you don’t wanna be here while we’re packing up all our stuff and it’s basically dead anyways. Look, over half of the crowd is leaving, probably heading to a different bar,” you say, pointing to the big group of patrons who are exiting the bar. Flash huffs but gets up and starts following the people out of the bar. Peter watches and chuckles, looking down, before looking back up at you. “Thanks. For that,” he says, and you give him a small smile. “Of course. I bartend too, so I know how annoying that can be.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. And don’t worry. That shot I gave him? Water.”

Peter laughs again and points at you. “You, are a genius,” he says and you feign flipping your hair over your shoulder. “What can I say? Beauty and brains,” you joke, and he smiles. You got that right for sure. Peter has seen your band come to the bar a lot, but he was usually never there to listen to y’all. But he always notices you. And he liked your humor, he felt like he could talk to you for hours. So, time to ask the question that could either make him very upset or very optimistic. “So, uh… I’ve noticed your band is a regular here, but I have no idea who you are personally.”

“That’s because you always leave your shift before we play.”

“So you’ve noticed that, huh?”

“Oh, I definitely have...?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you. I’m-”

“MJ! We need to start loading this stuff up!” You get cut off by a band member and you turn your head to yell something back. But Peter can’t hear what you’re saying.

He called you MJ.

You turn your head back to him and give an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’m gonna have to go in a second, but yeah. My real name is (Y/n) but people call me MJ. It’s sort of like my stage name that turned into my nickname that’s used more than my name name now… it actually stands for Mara Jade… who is uh-”

“Luke Skywalker’s wife,” he answers, and you look at him a little surprised before smiling. “Yeah… yeah, it’s a little nerdy but…” you trail off and he shakes his head. “Nah, nah I like it. Good character,” he says, and you can feel your face flush. You just hope it’s too dark in here for him to notice. “Yeah, well um… we’re playing tomorrow night, too. I don’t know if you work but I’d love to talk a little bit more?” you ask, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll be here,” he says, and you smile. “Great! I mean… um… cool. Cool…”

“MJ!” You roll your eyes and give him a lopsided grin. “Duty calls,” you say, sliding off the barstool you were perched on. He nods. “I gotta start cleaning up the bar anyways… so.”

“Yeah… tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

You give him a small smile and an awkward thumbs up before running off to help your bandmates load all of your stuff into their van. Peter turns and starts cleaning up the bar and taking more orders. His head is swimming, did he really just meet his MJ? I mean, yeah, sure, your real name doesn’t actually make the initials M and J but people still call you MJ, so that counts right? He’s so lost in his thoughts, that his spidey sense doesn’t alert him that someone is lingering by the bar for a moment before rushing out. After lamenting for a little while longer, he turns around, and he sees what looks like a receipt. He goes over to grab it when he notices something written on the very bottom.

‘Don’t know whose receipt this is, but my number is (xxx) xxx-xxx. Just in case something would prevent you from coming tomorrow. - MJ :)’

He smiles and tucks it in his pocket. “MJ,” he says with a grin on his face, wiping down the counter. Maybe his luck was changing after all.

#peter parker x you #spider-man x you #tasm!peter x you #marvel x you #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #marvel x reader #peter parker #spider-man #marvel

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hanasnx · 6 months

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PETER PARKER uses his spider-sense to get out of all sorts of awkward situations. If there’s an uncomfortable circumstance he can exit by loftily looking out into the distance and irish-goodbye-ing, he’s taking it.

Unfortunately for him, you’ve caught on to his ruse. It’s impolite to cry wolf, and you’ve learned his tells between a real emergency and an act to save his dignity.

One particular example stands out of the rest. You and him had broken it off months ago, but had finally agreed to be friends. A platonic hang-out between two adults. That’s possible, right? Apparently not. You fell into old habits, and you could pick out how he sweet talked you, but you let him. It felt so good to be seen by him, felt so good to talk to him. That spark between the two of you still remains, and it’s cause for his peculiar behavior when your gaze lingers on his. A exchange of heated eye contact, coming down from innocent snickering over an inside joke, morphs into a familiar dance. You see the thought process in his eyes, practically witness the neurons fire off to decide his next move. He inclines, and you’re drawn to him.

A single finger presses to his subtly puckered lips, halting him, and separating the two of you. “Peter… I can’t.”

It’s a serious moment, it told you everything you needed to know. How you weren’t ready for friendship with him, how unapologetic he was in disregarding the boundary at first. At least until he was caught. “Ah, you’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry.” sheepishly, he concedes, recoiling as his hand finds the back of his head.

You take notice of how he slows, the recognition in his countenance, and the descent of his arm. He faces the side, a faraway look to the horizon, a crease to his brow. You press your lips into a thin line.

All heartfelt empathy hardens into stone as you deduce exactly what he’s doing. “You are not seriously pulling this right now.”

Like a lawn chair, he folds. Shameful as he bows his head in a nod. “Yeah, okay.” His ticket out of living in the moment with the consequence of his action dissipates before him. He kicks the dirt, placing his hands on his hips as he condemns himself for trying to get out of this. Guiltily, he accepts his punishment of remaining here with you as a dark cloud looms over your company.

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multi-fandom-imagine · 6 months

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A/n: This game bright back my love for Peter Parker 😩.

While Peter was happy to spend time with his two close friends, deep down he wished that MJ and Harry would go off on their own so he could spend time with you.

Grabbing hold of Peter’s hand, you tugged him towards the ferries wheel as you held onto the stuffed animal he had one for you. “You know, I’m pretty sure it’s cheating that you won this for me.” You teased as you stepped in line, MK letting out a snort.

“Ya Pete, not everyone has super powers like you.”

Henry barked out a laugh shaking his head. “I don’t know, it was pretty funny seeing him knock down those cans when no one else could.”

“Oh would you look at that! We’re up next.” Grabbing hold of your wrist, Peter quickly tugged you into the carriage of the ride, snorting you waved to MJ and Harry as that carriage slowly started to move up.

Humming, you rested your head on Peter’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “So how are you enjoying the night so far?” He asked, his fingers running down the nape of your neck.

“Perfect, 10/10. Not everyone can say they’re dating Spider-Man.”

Stretching out his body, Peter gave you a large smile pulling you close to his side. “I am pretty amazing….I guess you can say that I am an amazing Spider-Man.”

Rolling your eyes, you pressed yourself into his side sliding your fingers through his. “And any creditably you had is all gone.”

Letting out a light laugh, Peter gave you a grin. His eyes twinkling in the lights of the ride. “Do I still get kisses.?”

Humming, you were now sitting in Peter’s lap as you let your lips brush against his then pulled away. “I will always give you kisses Mr. Parker.”

Letting his arms wrap around your waist he rested his head against yours. “Good.” Smiling, he then pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. His tongue gliding over your as you slipped your hand under his shirt.

Breaking the kiss, Peter ran his tongue over his los giving you a grin. “Mind if I swing us out of here the moment this thing stops.”

“How can I saw no to Spider-Man?”

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spasmsofthought · 2 years

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forget me (not) [peter parker x reader]

I’m a bit late on this, but I just watched the re-release of Spider-Man: No Way Home and I’m in my feels. I just love him. Gif credit goes to the original owner. Short and sweet (I think). Enjoy. xo

---

It’s a snowy December day when he walks into the coffee shop. He opens the door and walks through right in the middle of the lull between the Hanukkah and Christmas rushes. The bell rings a few times before the door closes all the way. No one else really comes in this time of day so the timing is a little uncanny. I ask him if there is anything I can do for him and he stands there for a moment but then tells me his name. There’s a slight pause before he asks for a cup of coffee.

Peter Parker looks at me like he’s seen me before.

I feel it in the way his eyes keep trying to hold onto mine. I feel it in the way he watches my every movement. Not like a stalker, but like he’s remembering and memorizing at the same time.

There are unspoken words in his mouth. I observe it in the way he walks up to the counter so I can give him his cup of coffee. I see it in the way he stares at my face even when I am offering him his change back. I notice it in the way his throat swallows down the tears he won’t let run down his cheeks.

I’d never known what déjà vu felt like until this moment. I am trying to understand something I can’t comprehend. I am stretching back into the past but coming up with empty hands.

Peter Parker, whoever he is, looks at me like he knows me.

I can’t breathe.

He’s shifting back and forth on his feet, moving his hands in and out of his pockets.

There is an itch in my brain that I can’t quite reach. Like I should remember something but I don’t. The way his hair curls and how his smile is soft but doesn’t reach his eyes all the way strikes a chord in me.

He asks me about the scar, bandaged and mostly healed, and all I tell him is “it doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

He crumples up the extra bills and the paper he has in his pocket and grabs his cup of coffee. Peter Parker tells me he will see me around. The bell above the door rings as he walks back out into the snow.

Even though I feel like he will, he doesn’t look back.

I experience an ache I do not understand.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter x reader #peter parker x oc #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x oc #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #spider-man x reader #spider-man x oc

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periprose · 1 year

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okay I literally lied.... this fic is on the way to 25 - 30k. Does anyone even want this lol??

It's basically a rom com fic between Peter and the reader and it's the slowest of burns. They are childhood friends and neighbours, and they're heading to MJ and Harry's destination wedding in Italy and it's awkward because Reader drifted away from Peter during/after college, and she thinks he doesn't like her like how she likes him, but she's obviously wrong. Reader is Logan (Wolverine)'s daughter, but there's no powers in this fic. There's definitely a bit of angst and unrequited love stuff but it will turn out fine.

There's loads of scenes involving a bachelorette party, cool luxury stuff that only MJ and Harry can afford to buy, romantic tension and fluff that I put in every scene from the airplane to the wedding itself, banter because Peter and Reader quickly fall back into their BFF status, drunk times, italian tourism stuff, beaches, mutual pining, eventual smut (maybe), childhood and high school memories, being the maid of honor to Peter's best man, and a happy ending.

Here's also the header so you get an idea of the mood:

Please let me know if this interests you!! I don't want to write and post this massive fic if no one reads it lol <3

#tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker slow burn #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you

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findmeinasunshower · 2 years

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𝑷𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔: 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓 (𝑴𝑪𝑼)

word count: <1k little baby blurb, more of a character study

summary: the morning after a rough mission. fluff/angst

warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence

“Hey.”

You look up from mixing pancake batter and smile up at your boyfriend. His hair isn’t the typical “my hair is mussed up because I just rolled out of bed” look. It’s all blown to one side, making him look lopsided. It’s adorable, but you can’t help but giggle. “You look like you spent the night in a wind tunnel.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, brown eyes blinking tiredly. He runs his fingers through his hair absentmindedly and shuffles closer to you. You feel yourself relax a little bit as he leans against the counter next to you, watching you spoon out the batter onto the pan. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you ask playfully. Sleepy Peter is so easy to mess with.

“Why are you making pancakes?” he asks. A sad smile spreads across your face, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Peter.

You flip another pancake. “I thought we could all use it. Breakfast food has always been my happy food, and . . . the past couple of weeks have been rough. I figured we could all just relax for a second and enjoy something.”

Peter smiles fondly down at you. Your thoughtfulness is one of the qualities he loves most about you. You express it in small ways and gestures, never asking for anything in return. No matter what, you always put a smile on other people’s faces.

And Peter wants to do the same for you.

He leans closer and grins at you cheekily. “You know you have to make Steve at least 50, right?”

You chuckle and flip a pancake that’s done onto a plate. “I already asked him, and he said twelve.”

Peter frowns and pretends to think. “Is he on a diet?” You can’t help but burst out laughing at the question. Peter grins. Make (y/n) smile: Check.

Now for his next goal.

“You know,” Peter starts, leaning in close to your face. “You still haven’t told me ‘Good Morning.’”

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics, but your heart betrays you and flutters at his words. Looking up at him, you smile and stand on your tiptoes to kiss him chastely before lowering back down to your normal height. “Good morning, Peter.”

Little do the two of you know, the team is watching you from the living room, which is just across the room from the kitchen. Although they may tease you and Peter for kisses or flirting or hand-holding, they secretly love it. Seeing the way you two act with each other is the one glimmer of light in such a dark time.

You don’t realize that the two of you are giving your team hope.

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eternalsams · 9 months

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Bitter Taste ➻ Miguel O'Hara

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!miguel!reader

warning/content: swearing, violence, blood, some ATSV spoilers (but would take place before ATSV events)

summary: Miguel thought he was Nueva York's only Spider-Man, he was wrong.

words count: 1.7k

a/n: English isn't my first language, so please take that into consideration. This is straightly inspired by a tiktok I saw and been obsessing over for the last couple days. (@/soumart_1 on tiktok who made that incredible fanart and inspired this fanfic). Also I tried to use a bit of Spanish but I'm really not bilingual, if you see any weird sentences, feel free to correct me :)

a/n (2): I may write a part 2 if you want, this could even become a series if you like it that much but for now, it's a one-shot.

(my gif)

Miguel was standing in front of his screens as usual, and Lyla was pestering him, as usual. She kept repeating he should take a break and rest, that the multiverse won't collapse if he took a nap. But he knew better. He knew only him could protect the entirety of the multiverse. He rubbed his eyes tiredly but didn't move from his spot, his eyes scanning every screen in front of him, looking for a single trace of an anomaly. "I can see you're exhausted, I don't need to scan you to know you need to sleep." Lyla's voice would soon turn into a nightmare for Miguel if she didn't stop bothering him. "I don't need to sleep. I didn't create you so you can pester me all day long." He grumbled, crossing his arms on his chest and stroking his chin and cheek, pensive. "At this point, it's all night long..." He could hear the little lady mutter as she sunk into her holographic chair. Miguel sighed and opened a new screen before tapping a well known code and before Lyla could stop him, she disappeared with a little bubble sound. Now he was left alone for the rest of the night and he could focus on his task.

A few hours and a couple of coffee cups later, Miguel was seated in an uncomfortable chair, his eyes burning from exhaustion and his brain begging for a break. But no, he kept looking at the screen and sometimes checking on the weakest universes, the ones where the anomalies tend to land in the most. He was so focused on his work and so tired that he didn't hear the portal opening below his platform. He could've heard it if he was well rest, but he wasn't. And he would've heard the web sticking to the ceiling if he wasn't so focused on the screens and so stubborn on finding an anomaly. But he didn't hear any of that. He didn't know he was the prey of a new kind of predator. The kind that didn't need lights to see in the dark and that could almost smell his exhaustion from another universe. He didn't hear the steps getting dangerously closer to him but he did feel the claws digging into his shoulder and throwing him on the ground. He groaned in pain and rolled over on the floor but when he looked up, fangs and claws out, he didn't see anyone. His eyes turned from brown to red and he tried to look around him in the dark, but his sight had been severely damaged by the screens he'd been watching for hours now.

He frustratingly groaned and when he got on his feet, he only heard rushed steps on his left before feeling claws slicing the skin on his neck. He immediately held a hand to his throat to check the wound and he could feel it wasn't a deep cut. Which meant that the thing attacking him didn't want to kill him immediately, it wanted to intimidate him first. "Whatever you are, I am not scared of you." He said out loud, looking around and trying to focus on what he could hear. But only the sound of his blood pumping and his heart racing in his chest reached his ears. It had been a long time since he had to use completely his senses, normally he'd only use his strength to stop his ennemies. But this one seemed to be smarter than the anomalies he was used to chase down. "Eres débil." (You're weak.) He heard a rather feminine voice chuckle in the dark. The jab didn't make him laugh at all but rather grumble something. He stretched his neck and winced when he felt more blood coming out of the injury. "¿Por qué no te muestras ante mí?" (Why don't you show yourself to me?) Miguel groaned before wiping some blood off his neck with his wrist. "¿Qué tiene eso de divertido?" (Where is the fun in that?) The woman chuckled once again before he heard her swinging above him. He was starting to hear more perceptibly and see more clearly now, his senses getting used to this new enemy.

The next time he felt her approaching, he focused on his hearing and swinged his clawed fists in her direction, earning him a yelp of pain. He smiled in victory and jumped in her direction, claws and fangs out. But what he didn't hear was his enemy immediately recovering from his attack and jumping on him at the same time. They collided, groaned and rolled over on the floor. Miguel could almost see clear as day and he could discern long dark hair and a tan skin. Two red orbs were staring at him and he was sure his were staring at her the exact same way. "Cabrón!" (You bastard!) She hissed and the lights turned on when Miguel's back collided with the commands. He straightened up and looked up at his enemy before freezing. The woman attacking him was wearing the exact same suit as him, the only difference was that the red parts on his suit were orange on hers. The shock on his face wasn't similar on hers though. She knew exactly who he was when she attacked him, there was no doubt. "Who the fu-" He murmured before she jumped on him once more. He dodged her by a hair and when he went to grab her ankle, she shot her organic webs on one of the desk in the office and threw it in Miguel's direction. He received it right in the chest and humphed, pushing it off him.

"Enough!" He growled out and grabbed her wrist when she threw herself at him. Her claws were out, her eyes shining red and fangs menacing. Just like him. With her strength, she pushed him against the nearest wall and sank her claws in the concrete next to his head. Her second hand was held back by his grasp but was dangerously approaching his face. She snarled at him and with the remaining strength he had in him, he pushed her back and spined her around so he could slam her body against the wall. She squirmed to get free but his hold on her wrist was strong and before she could even think about using her legs to get away, he pinned her to the wall, crushing her body with his. "That's enough." He groaned in her ear as she kept growling like a feral animal. "I'm gonna ask you questions and you better answer me correctly. Who are you?" He struggled to keep her in place. "Why would I tell you?" She said in a thick Spanish accent. "Wrong answer." He grunted as he snaped her wrist to break it. She yelled in pain and rested her head against the wall, taking deep breaths to concentrate on her healing. "Again. Who are you?" He asked once more. The woman took a deep breath to calm down and opened her eyes to stare at him, her pupils turning back to brown. "Creo que sabes quién soy." (I think you know who I am.) She said as he kept staring at her for a moment before grabbing her elbow and twist it awkwardly. "Wait, wait, wait! I'll tell you who I am..." She immediately submitted. He released her elbow but didn't let her go, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm Michaela O'Hara." She introduced herself, slowly retracting her claws. Miguel froze for a moment, he put two and two together and understood she was another version of himself. "Why are you trying to kill me?" He asked, tightening his grip on her wrist because he knew she would never stop trying to get free. That's what he would do. "Actúas como un loco y casi destruyes el multiverso!" (You're acting insane and almost got the multiverse destroyed!) She growled at him, showing her fangs. "I paid the price of my mistake, I won't do it again." He said, his voice low in memory of his daughter. "Dios mío... You think you're the only one who lost Gabriella? Pathetic... I'm not here about her, I'm here about Miles Morales." (Jesus Christ...) She explained and he frowned. "What about the kid?" He loosened his grip on her and she immediately noticed it, deciding not to mention it. "I know exactly what you want to do to him. That's what I would have done. But you're wrong, Miles is not an anomaly, not more than us." She slowly pushed back from the wall, taking advantage of his distract. His eyes snapped back at her and he frowned once more. "How did you manage to stay hidden from me? I would've noticed you." And by I, he meant Lyla. "You think I would have let an idiot like you keep an eye on me? Oh, Cariño... Yo era el que te vigilaba." (Oh, Honey... I was the one keeping an eye on you.) She chuckled. "Do not think you're the only one who thought about exploring the multiverse." She said with a little smirk as she showed him another version of his multi-dimensional watch.

Only then he noticed she got free from his grip and when he tried and grab her once more, she just swatted at his hand. "And, by the way, I'm not actually trying to kill you. I just wanted to stop you." She walked around his office, looking at the multiple screens. She went to tap on some board before Miguel grabbed her wrist. "Don't touch anything or I'll break every single bone of your hand." He threatened her. "Relax, Grumpy. I will not break anything. You should get that checked out." She said, pointing at the injury on his neck. He brought a hand to his wound and hid a wince of pain. She silently chuckled and turned around, looking at the different universes shown on the screens. "Puedo?" (May I?) She asked as she pointed at the keypad on the desk. Miguel quietly grunted but nodded his head, watching attentively what she was doing. She entered coordinates and a new screen appeared with a number at the top. "Earth-203." Miguel read in a whisper. "Where I'm from, it is basically the same as here. Year 2099, flying cars, bullet trains directly to the moon, bla bla bla... Except I'm Spider-Woman instead of Spider-Man. Well, I'm Viuda-Araña." (Spider-Widow) She explained as she discreetly placed a microchip under Miguel's desk.

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