Spiderman Fluff - Blog Posts

The Hidden Hero | Peter Parker Series

Summary: In an alternative universe, Peter Parker has the biggest crush on the reader. Even though the reader doesn’t know his secret, the reader is obsessed with the webslinger. So Spiderman decides to show up at Liz’s Party to impress everyone, specifically the reader.

Warning: some spoilers

Pairing: Peter Parker (Spiderman) x reader

Type: The Hidden Hero Series

MASTERLIST

A/N: THIS IS A HEAVILY EDITED VERSION OF MY VERY FIRST FANFICTION. IT PROBABLY REALLY SUCKS SO I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT. BUT IT WAS MY FIRST ONE SO I WANTED TO POST IT.

The bright yellow buses were pulling up to the curb of the school grounds. The large crowd of high school students hustling and bustling down the corridors. The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed like an orchestra throughout the hallways. 

The small group of gossiping girls were hanging around the lockers. They giggled amongst themselves. They always wore those mini skirts and tight shirts. The cliquey jocks were currently talking about the football game last night. They were wearing the exact same athletic jacket that they wore every single day. The parade of band geeks had just walked past them with their huge instrument cases. There were the aerospace tech kids who never did anything but make different robot models to battle between periods. 

The familiar squeaking sound of sneakers were catching against the newly waxed floors. The metal locker doors were slammed shut once the students had gathered their textbooks for that period. The bell was ringing loudly on the sidelines, signaling the start of classes for the day.

At the given moment, Peter Parker was maneuvering his way through the crowd of students with his best friend Ned Leeds. He was currently carrying his textbooks because he had lost his backpack yesterday. The two of them were making their way to their first class of the day.

Last night, Ned had caught Peter sneaking into his bedroom dressed as the Spiderman. He had seen him crawling on the ceiling! It was quite a shock to find out that his best friend was the webslinger that he had saw on youtube. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his secret. And he had a million questions for him.

Throughout the whole day, Ned was asking questions about Peter’s alter-ego. He was able to come up with a handful of different questions in each class. Those questions mostly consisted of the range of the webslinger’s abilities, such as whether or not he could summon an army of spiders or how far he could shoot his webs. He was always given short or curt answers.

Near the end of the day, Peter and Ned were forced to go to gym class. They watched a short video that had Captain America talking about the fitness challenge. As if on cue, Ned asked his friend if he knew the infamous avenger. He said that he did and that he stole his shield.

Now the students were told to get into pairs of two. They would be doing sit-ups. They would alternate every few minutes between partners. At the moment, Ned was holding down Peter’s feet so he crank out those sit-ups. He actually found that they weren’t so hard to do anymore, now that he had this weird radioactive spider venom in his blood. 

“Can I be your guy in the chair?” Ned wondered spontaneously. 

“What?” Peter whispered. He had spoken in this low tone of voice so that nobody would be able to hear them. He didn’t quite understand his question.

“You know there is a guy with a headset telling the other guy where to go. Like if you were stuck in a burning building, I could tell you where to go because there would be screens around me. You know? I could swivel around them. And I could be your guy in the chair,” Ned explained.

“I don’t need a guy in the chair,” Peter insisted. He shook his head at the idea. He heard the gym teacher praising him on the sidelines, causing him to pause momentarily. He was quick to resume his sit-ups. 

In the background, Y/N had forced herself to walk into the gymnasium. She had immediately hurried towards the gym teacher to explain why she was late to class. She had been tutoring another student during the hour. She quickly handed him a slip of paper. He took one glance at him, nodding his head in confirmation. He told her that she could just sit on the bleachers for the rest of the class because it was almost over anyways.

Out of instinct, Peter had shifted into a sitting position and stopped doing his sit-ups. He could feel the little hairs on his arm raise. His spider senses were telling him that someone had just walked into the gym, but it wasn’t just anyone. It was his crush.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Peter said. He didn’t seem to take his eyes away from his best friend in front of him. He waited for a response. His friend turned his head to look across the small stretch of the room, settling his gaze on the familiar looking student. He nodded his head.

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Ned questioned. He had furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He was slightly taken back by his comment.

“Spider senses,” Peter waved off. He had just briefly turned his head to look at her through the corner of his eye. He could barely see her talking with the gym teacher. He was quick to start doing his sit-ups again. “Can she see me? Do you know if she’s looking at me?” Peter whispered in question.

“Oh yeah,” Ned said with a firm nod of the head. He could see her heading towards the bleachers right behind them. He caught her turn her head slightly towards them. “She saw you,” Ned confirmed.

On the bleachers, Y/N had found herself settling down beside her small group of friends. They were currently playing the game called ‘fuck, marry, kill.’ They would list off three random names of celebrities or artists. Then they would have to decide who they would fuck, marry, and kill. They listed three of the avengers.

“You see for me it would be…fuck Thor...marry Iron Man...and kill Hulk,” Betty Brant concluded. Some of her friends had totally agreed with her lineup, but there were a few friends who would have made a completely different choice.

“What about the Spiderman?” Y/N wondered. She had lowered herself down onto the bleachers, looking at each of her friends with curious eyes. She could see her friend Liz Allen shrug her shoulders at the thought.

“It’s just Spiderman,” Liz claimed. She made a face of disgust. She must not have thought that he was that impressive or attractive.

“Did you guys see that big security cam on youtube? He fought off four guys!” Y/N exclaimed. She was now leaning forward in her place. She was quite eager to defend her opinion. She was practically praising him.

In the background, Peter and Ned had turned their heads to look towards the small group sitting on the bleachers. Neither one of them could believe the words they were hearing coming out of her mouth. They looked at each other in slight shock.

“Oh my gosh. She’s crushing on Spiderman,” Betty joked. Her face had twisted into this playful smirk. She leaned over to nudge her friend in the side.

“No way!” Liz laughed.

“Kinda,” Y/N shrugged. She had dropped her gaze to stare down at her hands in her lap. She tried to hide the bright blush creeping up onto her face. She smiled to herself.

“Ugh. Gross,” Betty scoffed. “He’s probably like thirty,” Betty claimed.

“You don’t even know what he looks like. What if he is like seriously burned?” Liz suggested. She had waved her hands in a dramatic manner. She was just trying to make a point.

“I wouldn’t care. I would still love him for the person he is on the inside,” Y/N said with a small smile on her face. “He’s a good man! And its obvious he really cares about this city. That is something I really admire about him,” Y/N confessed.

“Peter knows Spiderman!” Ned blurted out. He didn’t really know what came over him, but he couldn’t stop those words from coming out of his mouth. He could see that everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing upon hearing his comment.

In response, Peter’s mouth dropped open in absolute shock. He turned his head to look at his best friend with wide eyes. He was quick to scramble to his feet, shaking his head in denial.

“Uh, no. I don’t,” Peter said. He had taken a few steps forward in his place, standing in front of the small group of friends on the bleachers. He was trying to find the right words to explain himself. “No. I-I mean,” Peter stuttered. 

“They’re friends,” Ned added with a smile on his face. 

“Yeah. Like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends,” Flash teased. He had stopped climbing the rope in the background, landing on the floor with a thump. He started to walk towards his rival because he was very interested in this conversation.

“I-I’ve met him a couple times but its uh…through the Stark internship,” Peter clarified. He stumbled over his choice of words. He had lifted his hand to scratch the back of his head in a nervous manner. He nodded his head in confirmation. “Mhmm. Yeah. But I am not really suppose to talk about it,” Peter claimed.

“Well, that’s awesome,” Flash replied. His voice was laced with sarcasm. He had stopped in his place. He had turned his body towards the small group of friends sitting on the bleachers, gesturing to them with the small wave of the hand. “Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party,” Flash said.

“Yeah, I am having people over tonight. You are more than welcome to come,” Liz said. She could feel the strong sense of embarrassment creeping through her body because she hadn't invited them to the party beforehand. She just felt like they were kinda losers so she didn’t want to invite them. But at least she was kind enough to invite them now.

“You’re having a party?” Ned wondered. He knew that this was the first time that he was hearing about this party. He could only wonder why he hadn’t already been invited to the party.

“W-Will you be there, Y/N?” Peter stuttered. She had lifted her head to look directly into his soft brown eyes. She had smiled shyly at him. She nodded her head in confirmation. He could feel his heart fluttering in the confines of his chest.

“Yeah! It’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spiderman,” Flash said in a persistent tone of voice. He stood directly in front of his rival, staring him down. He was puffing out his chest to be more intimidating (and maybe a little taller than him).

“Flash,” Y/N warned. “Leave him alone.”

“Ah come on. He’ll be there,” Flash promised. He turned his head to look at her with this playful expression on his face. He winked at her. He smirked to himself in triumph. But he didn’t seem to catch the moment where she rolled her eyes at him.

The whole conversation would come to an abrupt end when the bell rang to dismiss the last class of the day. The students were quick to stand to their feet and make their way towards the door. Meanwhile, Peter had watched his crush stand to her feet. The two of them briefly met each other’s gaze for a split second. She sent him a small smile. She didn’t even know that his eyes were following her figure out of the gym.

“What are you doing?!?” Peter turned his attention back towards his best friend standing behind him. He had thrown his hands up in exaggeration. He just couldn't believe that his friend would do that to him.

“Helping you out. Did you not hear her? She has a crush on you!” Ned exclaimed. He could feel the smile growing at the corners of his lips. He watched his best friend open his mouth to say something against him, but nothing could come out. “You are an avenger! If any one of us has a chance with her, it’s you.” Ned confessed.

Previously, Peter had actually known her since grade school. The two of them had become pretty close friends. He had developed his first crush on her, but he was never able to gather enough courage to tell her. Now here she was, years later with a crush on his alter ego. It almost didn’t feel real to him.

That night, Aunt May had driven Peter and Ned to the house for the party. She parked the car in front of the house. For a brief second, Peter had said that this would be a mistake and that he wanted to just go home. His aunt said that she totally understood how he was feeling. She was eventually able to convince him to go to the party after all. 

The two teenage boys turned to look at the grand house in front of them. They had started walking up the sidewalk, heading towards the house. The two of them had passed by plenty of other students that went to their same high school. And they could hear the music blasting from inside the house.

“You have the suit, right?” Ned questioned. Very discreetly, Peter lifted up his flannel sleeve to show him the web shooters and red costume underneath his clothing. “This is going to change our lives!” Ned exclaimed.

The music was so loud that it would be hard to hear the person talking right beside them. The bass thumped in time with the boys’ heart beat as though they were one with the song. Over the roar of music, a distant hazy chatter could be heard throughout the entire house. The high school students could be found holding red solo cups with harmless non-alcoholic drinks.

Of course, Flash would be in charge of the music for the night. He had a pair of heavy headphones around his neck. He rubbed his hands against the two records at the station to create that iconic record scratch sound. He was just trying to look cool. 

“Okay. We are gonna have Spiderman swing in, say you guys are tight. And then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro hugs,” Ned said in a low tone of voice. He really had this whole thing planned out.

A familiar figure had found herself walking around the corner of the hallway. She had turned her head to look at the two teenage boys standing in the short distance. She was quick to make her way towards them, feeling a smile stretching across her face.

“Oh! Hey guys,” Y/N said. She waved at them. She had walked towards them until she was standing right in front of them. She quickly looked between the two of them with the softest and kindest look on her face.

“Hey Y/N,” Ned said with a silly grin on his face. He had forced himself to straighten his back in posture, standing at attention. He turned his head to look at his best friend through the corner of his eye. He nudged him in the side. 

“Hey Y/N,” Peter’s voice squeaked.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Y/N confessed. She was holding onto her own red solo cup in her hands. She lifted her other hand to gesture to the table behind her. “There is pizza and drinks so feel free to help yourself,” Y/N claimed.

“Wow! What a great party,” Peter had choked on his own words. He had turned his head to look at her with this sweet boyish grin on his face. He could feel his heart hammering on the inside of his chest. 

“Thanks. I barely did anything. It was all Liz,” Y/N insisted with the wave of the hand. She could hear someone calling her name in the background. She turned her head towards the sound of the voice, spotting one of her friends in the crowd. “Oh! I should go,” Y/N said. 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded his head. She found herself hurrying towards her small group of friends in the short distance. She had looked over the small stretch of her shoulder, waving goodbye to them. 

“Dude! What are you doing?” Ned wondered. “She’s here, spider it up!”

“No. No. No. I can’t. I cannot do this. Spiderman is not a party trick,” Peter said. He shook his head in denial. He quickly straightened his back in posture. He ran his hands over the invisible wrinkles in his shirt. He shrugged his shoulders to himself. “Look, I am just gonna…be myself,” Peter whispered.

“Peter,” Ned groaned. He had closed his eyes for a brief second. He shook his head at his friend’s comment. “No one wants that,” Ned said harshly.

“Dude,” Peter said hurtfully. He was quick to turn his body to walk away from his friend. He heard his name being called over the speakers in the room. He turned his head to look across the small stretch of the room, looking directly at his rival holding the microphone. 

“Penis Parker! What’s up? Where is your pal, Spiderman? Let me guess, in Canada with your imaginary girlfriend?” Flash teased him. He was only encouraged by the sound of laughter coming from the high school students in the room. “That’s not Spiderman. That’s just Ned in a red shirt,” Flash joked.

Somehow, through peer pressure, Peter found himself standing on the roof of the house. He had disregarded his regular clothing onto the top of the roof. He was now wearing his red and blue suit of his alter-ego. He knelt down on the rooftop and gazed down at the small house.

“Hey! What’s up? I am Spiderman,” Peter whispered to himself. He lifted his hands to the neckline of his white shirt. He pulled the shirt over his head. “Just thought I would swing by...say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh hey! What’s up, Ned? Where is Peter anyways?” Peter said to himself.

Now Peter could see his best friend standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He felt bad that he had left him alone for a few minutes. However, there was still this part of Peter that did not want to make his presence known at the party. He just didn’t think that it was right. 

“I can’t do this.” Peter whispered. He shook his head at the crazy idea. He could see his crush walk across the small stretch of the room, stopping to stand beside his best friend. She had asked him a question, only receiving a small shrug of the shoulders in response. She sighed to herself in defeat. 

In that moment, Ned had yanked out his phone to dial his best friend’s number. He had turned his body so that his backside was facing the large crowd of students in the room. His best friend had answered his phone without hesitation.

“Peter! Where are you? She is asking for you,” Ned said desperately. He turned his head to look over the small stretch of his shoulder, spotting her familiar figure in the distance. He waited for some kind of response.

“I will be there in a second,” Peter concluded. He had this fluttery feeling in the confines of his chest, thumping against his chest in a violent manner. He didn’t know if he was nervous or excited. 

With great hesitation, Peter had pulled his mask over his head. He stood to his feet. He had jumped down to the ground, landing on his feet with a small thump. He had started walking towards the house, making his way through the heavy crowd of people. 

“Oh sorry,” Spiderman apologized. Every single person had turned their heads to look at the infamous superhero standing amongst them. The high schoolers’ mouths had dropped open in absolute disbelief. The webslinger was currently maneuvering his way through the crowd of students until he was finally inside the house. “Sorry, I just gotta…find my friend Peter,” Spiderman claimed.

“Spiderman?” He forced himself to turn around upon hearing the sound of that sweet voice. His robotic eyes had dilated subconsciously. His head moved up and down her body. His actions did not go unnoticed by her. “W-What are you doing here?” Y/N wondered. 

“Oh, you know. Peter called me and asked if I could show,” Spiderman claimed. He had lifted his hand to wave in dismissal (like it wasn’t a big deal).  

“No way,” Flash said. His voice was laced in the tone of disbelief. He pushed his way past the crowd. He had shifted to stand in the middle of the room, stopping in his place. He soon came face to face with the webslinger himself. “You’re really him? Are you really friends with Peter Parker?” 

In response, Spiderman had turned his head to look over his rival’s shoulder. His large robotic eyes had settled on that familiar figure standing behind his face. He found himself pushing right past him to approach her. He stood directly in front of her. “Hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi,” she smiled at him.

“What’s your name? Wait. No. Let me guess,” Spiderman teased. He had lifted his gloved hand towards the front of his face, tapping his chin in thought. He pointed his finger at her. He was able to ‘guess’ her name pretty easily.

“Y-Yeah!” Y/N exclaimed. She was more than surprised to hear that the webslinger actually knew her name. She could only feel her smile growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. “How did you know?” Y/N wondered.

“Peter talks a lot about you,” Spiderman explained. He was hoping that his other persona could score some points with her. He could only wonder if she would give his other self a chance.

“H-He does?” She gasped.

“Spiderman!” Ned shouted. He had found himself taking a few steps forward in his place, shifting through the heavy crowd of students. He just knew that every single person was looking at him. He smiled at his best friend. “Hi! It’s Ned. Remember me?” Ned said with a bright smile on his face.

“Yeah! I do. How are you doing?” Spiderman said enthusiastically. He did give him the fist bump that he so desperately asked for. Of course, Ned was trying to play it cool. But he could hardly contain himself knowing that he would be popular for the rest of his life.

"I am doing fine,” Ned said cooly. He had this smug look on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest. He was hoping to maintain that cool looking stance. “But I’ll let you get back to Y/N. She’s a big fan of you,” Ned observed.

“Really?” Spiderman teased her. He had turned his head to look back towards the smaller figure standing behind him. His robotic eyes had made it look like he was quirking an eyebrow at her in amusement. He could easily spot the bright blush flooding her cheeks. 

“Well, kinda,” she replied shyly. She didn’t mean to fiddle with her fingers nervously. She had dropped her gaze to stare down at the ground, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. She shuffled on the heels of her feet in her stance. 

“Well, I should get going.” Spiderman didn’t want to prolong his stay at the party for his own sake. He placed his hands on his hips. He held that heroic stance for dramatic effect. “New York isn’t going to save itself,” Spiderman came up with a lame excuse. 

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She couldn’t help but dreamily admire him. She could only imagine that he was this incredibly handsome looking young man underneath the mask. She smiled at him.

“It was nice to finally meet you. Could you also tell Peter that Mr Stark needs him at the internship at four thirty tomorrow?” Spiderman had tried to make another excuse for her to talk to his other self tomorrow. “Can you do that for me?” Spiderman wondered.

She had nodded her head in confirmation. He did not hesitate to wink at her with those big robotic eyes, which only caused her heart to flutter in her chest. He used his web shooters to swing away from the party. He made his way back up to the rooftop to change back into his regular clothes. 

“I can’t believe he actually showed,” Flash said to her. He had turned his head to look in the general direction they had last seen the famous webslinger swing off to. He crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head and scoffed to himself. 

“What’s the matter, Flash? Jealous of Peter or Spiderman?”

all the bright places → p.p

SUMMARY: in which you have a dilemma, and suddenly come face to face with the city’s superhero on the ledge of the bell tower at school.

WARNINGS: passing out, suicide attempt, female reader, unedited.

You’d think you had gotten used to it by now–the blanking out, the waking up. Even as it happened, whenever you reopened your eyes, you felt a little bit more numb every time. Yet, as it continued on, you soon realized that this was the worst one by far. You can’t really tell what was different this time around, only that when you woke, you didn’t actually feel awake. It felt as if you were almost stuck in a dream– or maybe a weird stage that had you caught in between being awake and asleep. It was as if you were empty, like someone had sucked all the blood out of your measly veins. You were alive, yes, but empty.

Closing your eyes, you feel the rusted ironwork curve beneath your fingertips. You don’t exactly remember how you got up here, though you don’t find it surprising, as your arrival here had followed your anemic episode. But here you are, standing six stories above ground, a thin barrier only between you and that narrow ledge. You’re practically a part of the sky, and as you listen to the bustle from the pavement below, you can practically feel the world tip. Everything spins, and you almost feel the wind float you away, drifting you off until there’s nothing.

Another gale rocks you, and it’s when you open your eyes that you realize you’re on the other side of the iron workings of the rail, standing shoeless on the concrete sill in your sheer mustard tights. The laces of your boots are clenched tightly between your quivering fingers, swaying slightly against the gusting breeze.

It’s probably over the whirlwind and oncoming drizzling of rain that you don’t hear the door open to the bell tower of the high school. He’s halfway, running silently, almost to the end and up in the sky when he notices you’re there. You stand a few feet away on the opposite side, hair waving in the breeze and skirt blown up like a parachute. Suddenly, the mask in his clutches is forgotten, and he takes a careful step towards you.

You’re one of the last people he’d suspect to see up here, six stories up on a bell tower and inches away from a ghastly death. You’re popular– a cheerleader even, someone expected to go out with Flash Thompson or sit at lunch with Lizzie Allen. And behind those clunky glasses that you insisted to wear all the time, though he knew they were utterly useless, you were pretty, like a china doll almost. And yet despite these attributes, you still somehow made time for the boy that was unknowingly behind you, staring you down as if he could freeze time itself.

“The worst thing you could do is look down.” The whisper that disposes from his lips is so silent that he’s almost certain you didn’t hear it, but it carries in the wind, and your fingers tighten immediately around the fencing. You didn’t have to turn around to confirm who it was speaking to you.

“It’s starting to rain,” he says, as if you don’t already know this. And yet, as his words are processed in your mind, you abruptly become aware of the water seeping into your cardigan, pooling around your bare meshed feet. You’re shivering, or shaking, the boy behind you can’t tell which one, and so he slowly inches himself towards you more, hoping his movements don’t frighten you and cause you to fall.

“Peter…” his name falls off your tongue, and he suddenly realizes his mistake. His mask remains in his hand, and he pulls it halfway over his forehead, mirroring that of a beanie. It’d be useless now in your presence.

When you don’t say anything else, he goes on inching forward, calling your name out in a hopeless reply.

From down below, someone yells, “Y/N? Is that Y/N up there?”

“Oh God,” you whisper, so low he barely hears it. You turn towards him, eyes widening and almost losing your balance when you realize who had been behind you the entirety of those few minutes. “OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod.”

The wind blows your hair and skirt, and it feels like the slightest movement could have you fly away.

There is a general buzzing from the ground, and you don’t know if it’s from your current position or the fact that the superhero clad in red stood a mere few feet away from you. But it wasn’t that fact that had your heart in a race with the buzzing in your ears, but rather who had been behind the mask the whole time.

You attempt to straighten yourself, but your rain soiled feet betray your movements and suddenly you’re slipping, grasping back at the railing. Peter moves quickly, and his webbing encompasses your hand, trapping you to the safety of the rusting iron. You glare at the leather boots that fell from your grasp, landing on the other side of the fence with a couple of thumps.

“Here’s what I think you should do—”

“Peter.” It’s a whisper, and he can’t help but stare at you in desperation to get you out of your current situation. “Your mask.”

He stares at you in bafflement for a moment, one eyebrow arched before he scrambles, pulling the material to completely cover his face. All traces of Peter Parker suddenly disappeared.

“Y/N, listen to me; here’s what I want you to do.” The boy takes a slight step forward, as if he is the one on the ledge and not you before him. His hands are held out in front of him, a silent plead for you to stand still. Peter doesn’t know why, but at this very instant, he doesn’t trust his own instincts. If every New Yorker had traded spots with you now, he probably wouldn’t feel the utter fear that engulfed his entire being. But when it comes to you, his best friend, all meticulously calculated plans that could be formulated in just a few moments fly out the window. He simply has no confidence in what he’s supposed to do.

“I want you to turn around completely– yes I know, one of your hands is stuck.” His throat feels clammy, and he doesn’t know if he should continue on with his plan or spring over the railing in an attempt to save your anxiety ridden state. He watches, completely still, as you slowly turn around, your body shaking with even the slightest movement. “And then grab onto the rail– just grab onto it. Once you’ve got it, lean against it and then lift your right foot up and over. Got that?”

You nod, and Peter suddenly realizes how pale you’ve gone, stricken with panic.

“Okay,” he breathes, “Whatever you do, don’t step the wrong way. I’ll count you off. On three.”

You grip the curved iron and kind of prop yourself against it.

“One. Two. Three.”

You lift your leg up and over the railing so you’re sitting on it. You stare down at the ground, and you’re frozen once again.

Peter says, “Good. Great job. Now, just stop looking down.”

You slowly look at him and then reach for the floor of the bell tower with your right foot, and once you’ve found it, he speaks again, “Now get that left leg back however you can. Don’t let go of the wall.”

By now you’re shaking so hard you’re sure he can hear your teeth chatter. Cautiously, you lift your leg over the railing, stopping in a panic as your tights snag onto one of the sharp grooves. Peter takes a brisk step towards you, watching your moment of alarm. Jerking your leg forward, your tights tear free, giving yourself enough momentum to rip the webbings’ hold of your hand. You hurl across the puddled concrete and into open arms.

For a minute you can almost feel it, with his hands gripping your shoulders and your fingers latched tightly around his biceps. The sense of peace as your mind goes quiet, like you’re already dead. You are weightless and free. Nothing and no one to fear, not even yourself.

And despite the tight crinkle around your closed eyelids, the image is so clear and vivid. You can almost see the ground itself, six stories below, slick and damp, your body lying there.

“You alright?” Peters voice is quiet, soothing enough to have you open your eyes. He stares at you in silence, his mask once again pulled up and curling around his ears. There’s still a buzzing down below, and from the volume you’re almost certain it’s because of the boy before you.

You take a breath, it’s shaky, but it’s enough for him. He tightens his arms around you, bringing you into his chest as your fingers tug on the material of his suit. You want to cry, scream until you’ve gutted your throat raw and bang your fists on the ground until they’re cracked and bleeding. But you remain calm, unwavering of any emotion, and it frightens Peter down to the core.

“Thank you, Peter Parker.” It’s a whisper, but still there.  You reach up and kiss him on the cheek, and he catches the scent of your shampoo, and it smells of flowers.

He curls his fingers into your back. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

“Okay.”

i would’ve stayed for you → t.h

SUMMARY: au! where everyone is born with a small tattoo, and whenever you fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears on your body. tom, who drifted apart from you once his acting career took off, falters during an interview, and its announced that he’s attained someone else’s tattoo. it’s not until tom spontaneously shows up at your doorstep and apologizes profusely that you realized it’s your tattoo that had inked itself onto his skin.

WARNINGS: language. fluff. you strip your shirt off lol. angst (?)

The morning was going by slow, exhaustingly slow. You could say that much. The coffee machine was broken at your workplace and the lack of noise in the office was driving you insane, encouraging the bags under your sleep deprived eyes to induce them to close even just for a few moments. You couldn’t recall the last time you had a decent amount of sleep. Now, your nights were filled with paperwork and news articles that you worked your ass off to write, only to be rejected each time you attempted to present a new idea to your boss. At least there was the ac that froze up the entire office building, your khaki sweater doing nothing to appeal the freezing temperature.

A pair of hands suddenly slapped down onto your desk, making you jump from your chair and bite down on your tongue to hold a spew of words you’d rather not have your boss overhear. A giggle was what brought you to look up at the face of the person that nearly scared you half to death, and a bubble of annoyance manifested on your features as your assistant smiled giddily down at you.

“Yes?”

She leaned down over your desk, whispering excitedly in your ear, “There’s an interview right now.”

Your brows furrowed.

“I don’t get it,” you said flatly.

She sighs loudly, dramatically emphasizing her point of you having no clue what the hell she was talking about.

“Tom Holland,” she drew out, “is doing an interview next door. Like, at this very second.”

The name made you freeze, and you leaned down to pick up the pen that had rolled off your desk to try and dampen the nervousness that itched at your palms.

You nearly choked out the next words, exerting a cough that resembled your discomfort. “This is important, why?”

She gave you a wicked smile, one that was as if she was about to tell you a secret nobody around the globe could know. As if she had done something so unbelievably, she’d want the entire globe to know. “Rumor has it he earned a new tattoo.”

With her words, you subconsciously rubbed the bandaid on your left bicep, covering the markings that ultimately decided your fate. You felt it was stupid, the whole someone falls in love with you and attains your tattoo forever thing. At least, that was your point of view about it. It was just that you found it unfair that something so minuscule could determine what relationships changed for the better or for the worst. And for forever? Wouldn’t it just be better if they’d disappear after your feelings dissipated for that person? You, however, couldn’t fathom the thought of having someone else’s ink punctuated into your skin, and it’s obvious due to the small alignment of swirls that were detailed on the right side of your ribcage. 

“Imagine it though!” She gushed. “Having Tom Holland with your tattoo!”

“I don’t have time for this right now-“

“Whoever it is sure is lucky-“

“Amya-“

“I mean, I couldn’t tell you what I’d do to get Tom Holland to have my tattoo.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the fax machine?”

Your drone of words immediately silenced her, and with a nod she left you back in your cubicle, tapping your pen against the polished wood of your desk in contemplation.

For the next few hours, the interview was all the buzz, and you avoided anyone who even thought about mentioning the topic. However, you didn’t know how long you could forestall it, as in 24 hours the interview would be released world wide, and the thought of what was once your childhood best friend falling in love with someone else really took a stab to your gut.

And yet the weight didn’t fall onto you completely until the work day was completed, your computer was shut down, and the rough draft of environmental damage was shoved into the pocket of your backpack. Outside was a madhouse, you realized. Cameras surrounded the building, numerous flashes going off all at once it made your vision blur. You attempted to push through though, muttering excuses left and right to those that trampled into you. Your gaze remained to the ground, not wanting to get involved until you heard someone shout your name through the crowd. Looking up, you saw him, standing by an open door of a yellow taxi cab, eyes pleading in a way that made you not want to look away. In three years, it was the first time you had seen him standing there face to face, just a mere ten feet away. He looked at you as if he wanted to yell your name again, scream obscene apologies at you for the months that he had distanced himself. You didn’t want to look away, you couldn’t, but with hesitance, you did, and the anxious cries of the paparazzi followed you as you rounded the corner of the street.

The next couple of days mirrored the last. Amya, your assistant, had demanded you watch the interview with her the second it had released. You declined, of course, muttering an excuse that it was your lunch break and that was not your ideal way of spending it. The interview, as you imagined, was everywhere. On television, in the trending section of YouTube, and even in the newspaper. Does Tom Holland have a girlfriend? Tom Holland secret lover? Who does the tattoo belong to? You personally thought it was absolutely ridiculous, there were more important events occurring around the world, and sooner or later this whole thing would blow off and it’d just be another celebrity occurrence that everyone would keep on referring to. As of the moment, it was seriously getting in the way of your article, and the enlightenment of exposing your research and opinions were quickly depleting. So you went back to your apartment early, dejected and exhausted, drowning in the hollowness of your present annoyance. There you attempted to type, pulling at your hair and groaning in anguish at the empty word document that seemed to stare menacingly at you. All inspiration was gone, and you sighed defeatedly, your moment of torment cut short by a rhythm of knocks on your front door.

You called for them to wait, brushing back your hair and fanning your flushed face. When you opened it, you stared right into the eyes of the person you had least expected to see. He stood there, unsure, lips upturned slightly in a smile that radiated vulnerability. Your jaw went slack, and all thoughts of your article drained to the back of your mind.

“Shit, uh, come in.”

Tom stepped over the threshold timidly, hands crossed behind his back.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“No,” his voice cracked softly and he cleared his throat, eyes trailing around your apartment. He was either extremely fascinated with the bowl of fruit that sat atop your table, or he just wouldn’t look at you.

You leaned on your kitchen counter top. “So why are you here?”

For a split second you saw confusion flash on his face, and he cleared his throat once more. “Wha-What do you mean?”

You laughed, softly, cocking your head in interest. “Exactly what I just said. What are you doing here? Out of all places, out of all times.”

“I-I need to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Have you seen the interview yet?”

You sighed, almost wanting to laugh at the thought. “No.”

Tom let out a breath, his poster slacking as he seems to turn away from you. Almost in a whisper, you spoke, trailing your finger through the tiles on your kitchen island. “I don’t have to catch up with someone’s life when they won’t even bother to ask me how my day went.”

Tom’s head snaps up, stepping towards the island counter and resting his hands along the edge. You watched as his fingers tightly gripped the ridge.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tom-”

“I never meant to lose contact with you.”

“Then why did you?”

His posture softens, and you can’t help but lean forward, crossing your arms over themselves.

“I-I don’t know.” 

“There has to be a reason,” you pushed.

“I couldn’t bare the thought of you being mad at me, I guess.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he quickly cut you off with another plea.

“I think I just thought that if I ignored the issue, it would go away.”

“It clearly didn’t,” you spoke flatly.

“I know but-”

“It clearly made it worse.”

“Yes, I know but-!”

“But what?”

Tom captured his bottom lip between his teeth. “I never wanted to lose you.”

“Tom-”

“You never called me once, when I left. You realize that, right?”

You froze. He was right.

“You know, I thought you just needed some time to cool off,” he continued, “I told myself I would give you a few weeks, a month at most, and then I would call you. Because I get it, I understand that leaving suddenly and then blowing our friendship off with a letter was a bad move, and I knew I could do better than that. But when I did, when I finally mustered up the confidence to call you, you had my number blocked and anything else that I could’ve contacted you on.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, sinking in the words. “I guess I just didn’t know how to react.”

“Neither of us did.”

He smiled at you, a toothless, sincere smile, and for a moment, you almost wanted to smile back.

“You could’ve talked to me, you know. I would’ve understood. I knew how important it was to you.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, “I didn’t know how you would take it. If you’d ask me to stay, or if you just wouldn’t care and let me go.”

“You know I wouldn’t do either of those things. I wouldn’t hold you back. I would’ve supported you, Tom, and I still do.”

He doesn’t reply, just runs a hand through his hair, his eyes crinkling at the corners just a bit.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here to bitch and moan about missing me though,” you said.

“Who says I didn’t?” He countered, leaning forward to match a teasing posture.

“The interview.”

“Right.” His shoulders sink a little. “So you haven’t seen it?”

You shook your head.

“I-I don’t really know how to put this then.”

You leaned forward, encouraging him. He took a breath, as if preparing himself, and he spits out the words in a frenzy.

“Thetattooisyours.”

Your eyebrows crinkled, processing his words. It was like he packed them into a small ball and hurled them across the counter at you.

“What?”

Tom sighed. “You heard about the rumor? About me having another persons tattoo?”

You nodded.

“The tattoo. It’s yours.”

Your chest suddenly felt tight, and there’s a lump that managed to form itself in your throat, making you practically choke out your next words. You know you’re at a crossroads. On one hand, Tom left you. You’re still bitter and hurt and reeling at those few years without him. And yet, you can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over you. He’s here now, and he’s pouring his heart out to you.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I just need you to understand that this doesn’t have to change anything.” He paused. “Actually, it can, as I would like more than anything to have you back as my best friend.”

You nodded once again, trailing along the side of the counter until you were about three feet away from him.

“I want to see it.”

Tom bobbed his head, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt just by an inch, the trails of black ink becoming visible. You reached up and traced the delicate swirls that formed the shape of a small leaf, feeling him shiver under your caress.

“When?” You asked.

“When I left.” He replied.

You moved back a step, suddenly aware of your proximity. Reaching down to the bottom of your blouse, you begin to unbutton it, working your way up.

“I want to show you something.”

You could nearly hear Tom swallow as you exposed the skin of your chest, moving the fabric of your blouse back to expose the twists and lines that vaguely reflected the outline of the sun.

“That’s-That’s mine.”

He reached forward, unsure, gently running his thumb across the crests of the middle and to the lines that drove outwards.

“It appeared when you left,” you breathed. “I think you leaving was some kind of revelation for the both of us.”

You observed him. His reaction, the uneven tremble of his breaths, the way his pupils dilated when he looked at you. And unexpectedly, on an impulse, you cupped his chin, carefully bringing him down to you, melding your lips together.

Kissing him was like anything you could’ve ever expected and more. It was slow at first, tentative, unaccustomed to each other. Suddenly, your confidence grew, and your back was pressed against the counter. It felt so right, and you grinned against his mouth as his hands slid to your shoulders, warily peeling the shirt down your arms. 

Abruptly, he stopped, fingers brushing against the band aid.

“You hide it?” He asked softly. “Why?”

“I don’t exactly like the idea of a tattoo determining one’s relationship with others.” You confided. “I just feel like everything would be so much easier with out it.”

Tom gazed at you with hooded eyes, intertwining his fingers with your own as he rested his forehead against yours. You smiled shyly at him, closing your eyes as you whispered.

“But with you, I don’t want to be strangers anymore.” You paused, taking a breath. “In fact, I think I’d rather ditch the best friends thing.”

He smiled slyly at you, and all fearful thoughts of rejection were whisked away as he glided his lips over yours.

Without warning, you rolled your hips, and Tom faltered, his head falling into the crevice of your neck.

“For the record,” he shuddered, “if you had asked, I would’ve stayed for you.

besoothing burdens → p.p

SUMMARY: peter announces that he has to fly half way across the world out of the request of Tony Stark, and he comforts you in reassurance that he’ll be alright.

WARNINGS: short & sweet. i accidentally deleted the first post, go me.

It was a whisper, like a gentle breeze of calm wind. An elixir of soft sentiments that lingered with the warmth of his presence. The words, melded with this breath, met with your bare back, a shiver crawling up your spine that left a trail of goosebumps to arise in his wake.

“Y/N.” You felt the callous pads of his fingers gently tracing the soft skin on the nape of your neck, brushing your hair aside. His hands threaded between the wispy tendrils, crowned around your head as if they were to form a halo. Lips found their way to your chin, a fragile stamp that had you clenching your teeth to abstain from gasping aloud.

Peter hummed against your skin, knowing that you were awake. Nonetheless, his kiss remained, peppering down your neck and coalescing with your skin. His touch left you breathless, tinting your cheeks with a glowing affection.

“Y/N.” Bliss rolled from between his lips, husk and raw. Sweet, loving, and whispered it came. Like honey resonating from his tongue and sifting through every fiber of your body. It came again, pouring from the delicate kisses that were being lovingly pressed up the small of your back to the corners of your shoulder blades.

You turned your head, your temple resting on the pillow and hooking onto the warmth of the eyes peering from over your shoulder. His hair was fluffy, curly strands of nutmeg underscoring the ivory of his face. A somnolent smile pulled up the corners of your lips at the sight of him, your lashes drifting close when he assailed another kiss at the corner by your ear. He trailed off with dulcet sigh, intruding the silence.

“Y/N.” You snapped your irises open, solidifying the honey and swiveling your body at the urgency laced between his vowels. You lay back, ogling the boy hovering over your flushed body. His mouth went to open, ready to vocalize, yet you brought your hand up, gingerly placing your palm on his cheek, promptly barring him silent.

“It’s five a.m., do you realize that?”

Peter shook his head bashfully, captivating his bottom lip between his teeth, instinctively leaning into the amenity of your tender touch. You pushed yourself up from the linen to reach him, intertwining your other hand through the flat coils of his ruffled hair.

“No, I…” The boy paused, unsure of how to put his epiphany into the form of words. “I just had to see you.”

You beamed with vehemence, shifting and bringing his body down to lay beside yours. You leant your head amidst his chest, sighing affectionately when you felt his fingers brush against the underside of your jaw. The serenity of your euphoria filtered the room with a haze of golden warmth.

“Y/N?”

You hummed a response, enduring in the ardor of his being.

“I-I need to tell you something.”

“Mhm?”

You could feel him hesitating, his tongue rolling slack as he held the words before they fell prostrate onto you. As encouragement, you traced your hand over the ivory skin of his arm, pleasuring in the ripple as he shivered.

“I-I’m leaving.”

You sat up briskly, your eyes wide and doe-like as you peered down at him, lips parted with unfounded words. The slight furrow of your brows spurred him on, and he too straightened up. “What?”

“W-Well for Mr. Stark, I-I need to go.” You watched intently as he took in his bottom lip, the intensity in his eyes sparring with your own. “I have a chance, finally! It’s in Germany and-“

“Germany?” Your heart dropped, emitting a gasp as Peter persisted his ramble. You didn’t know what to say when his words had found their demise in the silence of your bedroom. Tears that had contrived in your worried eyes soon slipped down, and you had to take the wobbling of your bottom lip between your teeth. Peter noticed almost instantly, taking your hands in his and ever so gently brushing the pad of his thumb back and forth to ease their trembles.

“What are you thinking, Peter? To put yourself that head on in danger? You don’t even have a proper suit a-and you’re just going to run blindly into s-something because Mr. Stark wants you to?”

“Y/N,” he murmured, wiping your tears with his free hand. His palm cradled around the curve of your jaw, delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear that had become captive in the stickiness of your cheeks. “Let me do this, okay? I... I have to do this. Nothing bad will happen to me. Mr. Stark won’t allow that.”

“Y-You don’t know that!” You spoke. It came as a whisper, yet frightened and laced with worry. “While you’re out there, you can’t guarantee your safety. Neither can Mr. Stark!”

His response was immediate, pulling you back down into his chest, muffling your despairs as you latched onto his torso. All you could let him do was guide his hand up the small of your back, massaging the skin in a voiceless endeavor of comforting your worries.

“You’ll come back to me in one piece, right?” Your words were whispered and innocent as your forefinger traced invisible patterns in the divot of his collarbone.

Peter was quiet for a moment, before besoothing your burdens. He reveled down at you, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that there was no room for anything else. No pain, no anguish, just love. And you marveled at the fact.