The Amazing Spider-Man 2012, Dir. Marc Webb

SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME (2021) + Letterboxd reviews (Andrew Garfield edition)

Do you have any daddy Andrew!Peter headcannons?

Lol gonna assume you mean as a father with kids and not in the other daddy sense.

But of course I do!

Infant and Toddler Years:

Peter cried happy tears the first time he ever bottle fed his baby.

He insists on trying all of the baby food! He says it’s because if he thinks it’s gross, the baby will think it’s gross, but really he’s just curious. 

Peter never let’s his kids fall. He catches them every time. To the point that his partner has to remind him it’s okay for kids to fall down sometimes because they have to learn to get back up.

When he’s too lazy to put up baby gates, he just shoots webs over the open doors instead.

Uses his webs like a baby leash whenever the kids runs too far ahead 

All of his kids have him wrapped around their finger and they know it

Has the baby shark song and dance memorized. Gets stuck in his head all the time. Has 100% caught some bad guys while singing it under his breath. 

Young Kiddos: 

If he’s ever out late and misses bedtime, Peter will crawl into their beds and snuggle with them until he falls asleep too. So many nights his partner has been looking around the house for him only to find him passed out next to their kids

His kids ask him for Spider-Man stories for bedtime every night. He makes them child-friendly and often adds things like dragons into the mix for fun.

“Don’t tell mommy that I let you have three bowls of ice cream for dinner.” *later that night* “I swear I have no idea why they’re throwing up! Must be something going around the school.” 

His daughter has a fascination with bugs. Peter takes her on bug hunts through Central Park to see what they can find every weekend. They bring nets, jars, and magnifying glasses to study them. 

Always has his nails badly painted and in rainbow colors because his daughter wanted to do them.

Can braid his daughters hair better than any of the other dads

Makes all their Halloween costumes by hand. Makes the whole family have a theme each year. His favorite was their Addam’s Family one. (Baby number three was made that night.) 

Dresses up as Spider-Man and fully commits to pretending to chase the monsters out from under the bed whenever the kids get scared. 

The kids first sleepover ever is at Aunt May’s house. Peter calls to check in on them every hour. 

He’s the first one to volunteer as a helper for any of their school field trips. 

Pre-teens:

Brings them on movie dates every week and takes them out for dinner afterwards. Each kid gets their own special week night with dad to make sure that he stays a trusted person in their lives.

His kids are never afraid to tell him anything. 

When they go through a period of being bullied, Peter let’s them skip school and sleep in. Then he puts on their favorite music and forces them to have a dance party with him until they’re laughing again. 

His son loves the Percy Jackson book series so Peter reads them all too. That way he can have conversations with his son that speak to his interests. 

Peter often brings flowers home for his partner. His daughter mentions how pretty the flowers are one day. Peter then makes sure to bring her home a bouquet every time too. 

Teaches his kids how to skateboard. 

Teenagers:

When they’re too stressed out with all their high school classes, Peter will sneakily do their homework for them some nights. 

Spider-Man will watch over any first dates to make sure everyone is behaving themselves! 

Treats all their friends as if they’re his kids as well. Basically just adopts all the strays esp if they have crappy parents. 

Loves their emo phase. Listens to all their emo music. Knows the members of all the bands. 

He gets so excited when his daughter tells him that she’s into photography. Buys her a brand new camera. 

His daughter calls him drunk from a party one time. She says that her friends all got in the car to drive home but she knew better. He immediately goes to pick her up. Tells her how smart she was for calling him and brings her home safely. He takes care of her hangover the next day and waits until she’s recovered before talking to her about the dangers of drinking. He never yells at her. Never raises his voice. 

Will spend hours roaming the museum of natural history with his son.

Cheers the loudest at his daughter's volleyball games. She gets so embarrassed but he loves it. 

College:

Holds it together while dropping off. Lifts all the heavy stuff for everyone when rearranging the dorm room. Sobs the whole way home. 

Calls his kids every single night and insists they tell him all about their day.

If he doesn’t hear from them all day, he starts panicking and threatening to drive up to the college. His partner has to calm him down and remind him that they are adult now. They need a little space sometimes.

Peter doesn’t do well as an empty nester so he starts volunteering at a local youth group. He becomes a mentor to many young kids. He’s also conveniently absent on the one day Spider-Man comes to visit the kids. They excitedly tell him all about it the next day though while he sits there and smiles.  

That was fun! Give me more headcannons! 

My first mutual! Can i request Peter walking in on you playing guitar and singing and he didnt know you could sing???? And he’s floored???? Thanks!! 🥺 - justnotforbread🕸🍞

A/N: thank you for this request I loved every second of writing this! Hope you like it!

Beautiful Stranger

Y/N was someone who was naturally very artistic and creative. Classes would be spent by drawing little doodles in her notebook or on whatever piece of paper was on her desk at the time. Teachers would often discourage it, knowing it meant that she hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She took art as her elective several times over even though she had been encouraged by school counselors to branch out and try other things. She always customized whatever she could to her liking, especially the things she wore on her body. Her room had been a wall of posters and art she made and photos of things she liked and people she looked up to.

She had a notebook full of little thoughts she had and poems of all kinds. There were some poems about her parents and some about whatever boy she was crushing on at the time and some about how hard life was. It wasn’t until her later teen years that she started writing songs.

They were purely for her and used as her own creative outlet as well as a form of therapy. The navy blue notebook that she kept these songs in was buried in her backpack and hidden under the mattress, never wanting her parents to find it.

It wasn’t until she was nineteen and moved out that she picked up her first guitar at a small thrift store. It was older and had more than likely seen quite a few hands but she was drawn to it. Her little song writing hobby could become a song making hobby and she could do something with the dozens of songs she had written over the years.

Learning how to play had been harder than she thought it would be but she persisted, spending nights playing the same three chords over and over again until she had them down to a muscle memory. Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water had been the first song she learned and was able to play without messing up once and that fueled her to persist with the goal of being able to craft her own song.

Months later and she was sitting on her bed, making her own music and writing down the chords as she went so she wouldn’t forget. More songs came after that and she kept them in the same navy blue notebook she’d had for years that was specifically reserved for songs lyrics, and now the music to go along with those lyrics.

Singing was something she enjoyed as well. She knew she could hold a tune but she didn’t think she was the best singer or anything, and it didn’t matter. She sang for herself so to her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t amazing. It wasn’t like American Idol was in her future dreams. So she never sang in front of anyone except her childhood cat who happened to be in the room when she was singing.

There had been a couple years that she went into a lull and didn’t write as many songs as she once had, especially not after her guitar was stolen when her apartment was broken into while she was at school one day.

Then she met Peter Parker.

Peter with those eyes that reminded her of fall leaves and warm sweaters and baked goods and his hugs that made her feel like she was stepping out into the sunlight and the way he called her sweetheart in the middle of the night when he was getting into bed after patrol and she was half awake and welcoming him into their bed. Peter with his desperate need to do good and a hero complex that was so strong it put the weight of the world on his shoulders. Peter who kissed the tip of her nose when it was red from the northern cold and woke up early before her to make her coffee for her so that it would be ready when she woke up and always let her have the last Oreo.

Peter Parker had y/n writing songs again. They ranged from the way he made her wanna crack her chest open for him and give him her heart and how he was like a sun drop that slipped from the sun itself to light up her world and how his pleasurable touch made her wonder if that was what dying felt like. Some got specific like the one titled His Jacket about the night they went out and she didn’t bring a jacket but got cold and he gave her his green one. It had been far too big on her and the sleeves went past her hands but it was so warm and smelled like him. It made her feel oddly safe even though he was right next to her and she hadn’t wanted to take it off. When he wasn’t home she would sometimes wear it and just feel so warm and safe. Some weren’t as specific and more about their relationship in a broad sense, going on about how they would sometimes just look at one another and know what the other was feeling. Some of the songs were proper songs with three verses and three choruses and some were quite short with just a short verse and a chorus and a repeat of the chorus once more before ending.

It was late February when y/n got her tax refund and she eagerly made her way to the pawn shop down the street after work, buying a used acoustic before heading home to the empty apartment. Peter had plans to go on patrol right after his work day was done due to a serial rapist who had started upstate and in the last few days made his way down to the city. It had kept Peter up at night. She was worried about him but trusted Spider-Man to make sure Peter Parker came home to her every night.

As soon as she was home she was grabbing her notebook and fishing a new pick out of the pack she had just bought and made a workspace out of the living room floor, notebook out and open.

The feeling of the strings on her fingertips was so familiar but still a little out of place. It was like visiting somewhere that you once frequented but hadn’t been there in years so it felt different yet the same all at once.

Forming the song only took a couple hours or so before she was running through her first play through. It took a few more run-through's before she felt comfortable with the order of the chords.

After a short break to get a drink and make dinner, she was sitting back down and putting the acoustic back in her lap, pick between her fingers. She knew it was getting late but she felt like she was just getting started and she knew Peter wouldn’t be home for a while longer.

Peter landed gently on the fire escape, not wanting to wake y/n if she was already asleep. It wasn’t very late but she was known to have early nights and be out by ten so on nights that he didn’t know if she was asleep already he was extra quiet.

Slipping in through the unlocked bedroom window, he found their room empty but he had already heard her moving around in their living room when he started opening the window. Sliding past the curtain, he was in the bedroom and closed and locked the window behind him before taking off his mask.

He had had an early night, catching the upstate rapist much earlier in his shift. He had been trying to catch the guy for the last week and finally got him before he could ruin another woman's life. He felt relief in knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed that night wondering if the serial rapist was out there and hurting someone. Spider-Man had made New York a safer place for at least tonight and that would grant Peter a good night's sleep- if just for tonight.

As Peter was heading to leave the room, he heard the strum of a guitar and stopped, listening and wondering why he was hearing a guitar. He only counted one heartbeat so it wasn’t someone else playing. It had to be y/n.

The strum turned into a song and he took the remaining steps to be able to see out into the living room past the corner. Y/N was sitting on the floor with an acoustic guitar in her lap, looking down at it and fingers moving nimbly across the strings.

Leaning against the door frame, Peter watched and wondered why she had never told him she knew how to play. How had they been together for an entire year and he didn’t know this about her? The guitar had to be new because she didn’t have one before. He had personally moved most of her stuff when they were moving in.

Peter’s breath fell from his lungs when she started to sing.

“I grab your hand and then we run to the car, singin’ in the street and playing air guitar. Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar and I wonder if it goes too far to say I’ve never recognized a purer face. You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place. Used to think that lovin’ meant a painful chase but you’re right here now and I think you’ll stay.” She sang.

He was just in awe; he was wonderstruck. Her voice was so soft and so beautiful and steady and he hated that he hadn’t been graced by it for the last year. Then there was the matter of the lyrical content that made his heart feel like it might turn into goo. It was absolutely her own original song that was about them because a couple months ago they had been at one of y/n’s friends’ parties and they were leaving when a song that they both loved came on. The music was so loud they could still hear it from outside and had jammed out to it together, air guitar having been part of that. It was one of his favorite moments in time with her and now one of his fondest memories.

He didn’t understand why she was working her current nine to five job when she had this talent.

He tried not to be a little hurt that he didn’t know anything about this but he also knew that he had hidden Spider-Man from her for the first six months. He couldn’t exactly judge her.

“Oh we’re dacin’ in my livin’ room and up come my fists and I say I’m only playing but the truth is this: I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss. And I’m terrified but the truth is this: I said beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I know that beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong. And I hope, beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe for me to fall.”

Peter’s eyes pricked with tears as he leaned against the door frame, throat tight and wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of her and kiss her so hard that it would be able to make her feel what he was feeling which was awe, astonishment, adoration to name a few. He was also incredibly overwhelmed by how beautiful she was; sitting there in that black NYU hoodie that he knew she’d gotten on her first day with a strand of her hair falling in her face from the bun that was piled on her head and her face clear of any makeup and singing about she felt safe enough to fall because she knew he would catch her. He would always catch her. At the end of the day his most important job was protecting her. Spider-Man meant nothing if he couldn’t keep y/n safe. The final strum made him wipe at his glassy eyes and he eyed the blue notebook that was open in front of her. He had seen it a couple times but assumed it was something to do with work like a planner or a calendar. It apparently harbored every feeling she had ever felt about him, about them.

Not wanting to startle her, he breathed her name.

Still, she jumped and her head whipped in his direction. “Jesus.” She gasped. “What the fuck are you doing home so early?”

“Finished early tonight. Thought I might come home and try to see you before you went to sleep.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before nodding. “How long have you been standing there?”

He smiled fondly. “Long enough to hear the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face behind her guitar in her lap.

Stalking forward, Peter sat across from her. “Why didn’t you tell me about…any of this?”

She looked up, ears red with embarrassment and lips pursed. “I’ve never shared it with anyone.” She shrugged. “Not even my parents. It’s something I do for me and when I met you…I was more inspired than I ever have been in my life. I may not be the best singer or songwriter but it’s so therapeutic.”

Cupping her face, he brushed the strand of hair away with his thumb. “I feel like I should have paid admission to see that that’s how beautiful your voice is. And that song? You wrote that?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Wrote it the morning after Anna’s party. You were still sleeping and I just…you make me feel so safe, Pete.”

“Well, I am Spider-Man.” he chuckled.

“That’s not it. I know you’re not gonna break my heart. I just know it. I don’t know how but I do. You have no idea how many songs I’ve written about us and-and about you. Last year this thing wasn’t even halfway filled and now it’s only got a few blank pages left.”

He closed the gap and kissed her hard in a mismatch of lips and the need to show her how much he loved her in a way he could. He didn’t know how to make a song but he wanted to so badly in that moment just so she could truly understand how he felt about her because what he just heard made him know truly how she felt about him.

“Play it again.” He breathed against her lips.

“I’ll play it as many times as you want.”

Peter Parker is my favourite frenetic Jewish boy with anxiety and beautiful hands who is also bisexual 🕸

Omg part 2 of the Peter Parker Hogwarts AU is amazing! I was so sad when I got to the end of it because I wanted more 😂 Great job!

Omg thank you bestie 🥺 Lowkey I wish I could have kept doing with it I just loved the concept so much but honestly I truly felt like it wasn’t meant to be more than it was anything else would have been overkill ya know? But thank you so much for loving it and taking the time to send this it means the world to me

The Sun is a Blue Moon (Part 2)

A/N: here’s part two of the sun is a blue moon! I wrote this once and hated it about 3k in so I scrapped it and started over and I’m waaaay happier with how it came out than what I originally had planned. Oh and it ended up all being from Peters third person view somehow??? yeah idk. I hope y’all like it <3

Summary: “Only the gentle are ever really strong.” - James Dean

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: violence, blood, injuries, fighting, battle, anxiety, panic, fearing the death of a loved one, gried, sadness, death

Playlist: End of the World by Nightriots

             Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe, FINNEAS

             As the World Caves in by Sarah Cothran

read part one here

Peter looked back to his notes, checking to make sure his measurements were correct before adding the white cap into the potion, the bubbling encouraging him further. He observed the reaction before picking up his pen and jotting down what he saw on the marked up page, his pinkie smudging the still drying inscriptions on the line above. He adjusted his glasses before continuing on with his work, his mind wandering to y/n who was currently in care of magical creatures while he was in his free period, working on his own potions. His eyes flashed down to the small daffodil colored yarn bracelet that was woven in with white yarn that she had made for him. Everyone in their group had gotten one that she made them in their house color except him. He was special and got her house color. Her glowing face filled his mind and he couldn’t help but smile a little. 

Peter Parker was in love. 

Keep reading

This one fucked me up in the best way

shampoo & heartbreak

Summary: Peter’s superhuman senses make things crystal clear: she got a boyfriend and didn’t tell him. Why else can he smell men’s shampoo in her hair when she’s used the same cherry blossom one for years?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N); fluff, best friend trope, happy ending

Words: 2K

—————————————

Spring is Peter Parker’s favorite season, for a number of reasons: first and most importantly, it has the perfect temperatures to wear the suit in.  Not too hot, not too cold, and there’s no chafing from patches of sweat. Second, it was his girl’s favorite season as well, and the time when she brought out and experimented with her cutest outfits.

Well, his girl - she isn’t really, but it’s hard to think of her as anything else. A lifelong best friend and the ultimate ‘what if’ was more appropriate.

Late afternoon spring walks through Central Park are his favorite because they’re her favorite, and he obliges every time she asks, even if he’s otherwise occupied. His mind rolls a giant wheel of fortune, wondering what top she might wear, or which scarf will bring out her eyes, and he’s trapped. Fashion is his last concern, but with her, he pays attention; he always does.

Like now, for example. He’s paying so much attention to the scent of men’s shampoo coming from her hair that it constricts his heart and etches a frown into his features.

No.

His entire body is protesting by turning inside out. His throat is closing up and his chest feels hot. Whatever concentration he had before this has packed its bags and left.

Keep reading

My first mutual! Can i request Peter walking in on you playing guitar and singing and he didnt know you could sing???? And he’s floored???? Thanks!! 🥺 - justnotforbread🕸🍞

A/N: thank you for this request I loved every second of writing this! Hope you like it!

Beautiful Stranger

Y/N was someone who was naturally very artistic and creative. Classes would be spent by drawing little doodles in her notebook or on whatever piece of paper was on her desk at the time. Teachers would often discourage it, knowing it meant that she hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She took art as her elective several times over even though she had been encouraged by school counselors to branch out and try other things. She always customized whatever she could to her liking, especially the things she wore on her body. Her room had been a wall of posters and art she made and photos of things she liked and people she looked up to.

She had a notebook full of little thoughts she had and poems of all kinds. There were some poems about her parents and some about whatever boy she was crushing on at the time and some about how hard life was. It wasn’t until her later teen years that she started writing songs.

They were purely for her and used as her own creative outlet as well as a form of therapy. The navy blue notebook that she kept these songs in was buried in her backpack and hidden under the mattress, never wanting her parents to find it.

It wasn’t until she was nineteen and moved out that she picked up her first guitar at a small thrift store. It was older and had more than likely seen quite a few hands but she was drawn to it. Her little song writing hobby could become a song making hobby and she could do something with the dozens of songs she had written over the years.

Learning how to play had been harder than she thought it would be but she persisted, spending nights playing the same three chords over and over again until she had them down to a muscle memory. Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water had been the first song she learned and was able to play without messing up once and that fueled her to persist with the goal of being able to craft her own song.

Months later and she was sitting on her bed, making her own music and writing down the chords as she went so she wouldn’t forget. More songs came after that and she kept them in the same navy blue notebook she’d had for years that was specifically reserved for songs lyrics, and now the music to go along with those lyrics.

Singing was something she enjoyed as well. She knew she could hold a tune but she didn’t think she was the best singer or anything, and it didn’t matter. She sang for herself so to her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t amazing. It wasn’t like American Idol was in her future dreams. So she never sang in front of anyone except her childhood cat who happened to be in the room when she was singing.

There had been a couple years that she went into a lull and didn’t write as many songs as she once had, especially not after her guitar was stolen when her apartment was broken into while she was at school one day.

Then she met Peter Parker.

Peter with those eyes that reminded her of fall leaves and warm sweaters and baked goods and his hugs that made her feel like she was stepping out into the sunlight and the way he called her sweetheart in the middle of the night when he was getting into bed after patrol and she was half awake and welcoming him into their bed. Peter with his desperate need to do good and a hero complex that was so strong it put the weight of the world on his shoulders. Peter who kissed the tip of her nose when it was red from the northern cold and woke up early before her to make her coffee for her so that it would be ready when she woke up and always let her have the last Oreo.

Peter Parker had y/n writing songs again. They ranged from the way he made her wanna crack her chest open for him and give him her heart and how he was like a sun drop that slipped from the sun itself to light up her world and how his pleasurable touch made her wonder if that was what dying felt like. Some got specific like the one titled His Jacket about the night they went out and she didn’t bring a jacket but got cold and he gave her his green one. It had been far too big on her and the sleeves went past her hands but it was so warm and smelled like him. It made her feel oddly safe even though he was right next to her and she hadn’t wanted to take it off. When he wasn’t home she would sometimes wear it and just feel so warm and safe. Some weren’t as specific and more about their relationship in a broad sense, going on about how they would sometimes just look at one another and know what the other was feeling. Some of the songs were proper songs with three verses and three choruses and some were quite short with just a short verse and a chorus and a repeat of the chorus once more before ending.

It was late February when y/n got her tax refund and she eagerly made her way to the pawn shop down the street after work, buying a used acoustic before heading home to the empty apartment. Peter had plans to go on patrol right after his work day was done due to a serial rapist who had started upstate and in the last few days made his way down to the city. It had kept Peter up at night. She was worried about him but trusted Spider-Man to make sure Peter Parker came home to her every night.

As soon as she was home she was grabbing her notebook and fishing a new pick out of the pack she had just bought and made a workspace out of the living room floor, notebook out and open.

The feeling of the strings on her fingertips was so familiar but still a little out of place. It was like visiting somewhere that you once frequented but hadn’t been there in years so it felt different yet the same all at once.

Forming the song only took a couple hours or so before she was running through her first play through. It took a few more run-through's before she felt comfortable with the order of the chords.

After a short break to get a drink and make dinner, she was sitting back down and putting the acoustic back in her lap, pick between her fingers. She knew it was getting late but she felt like she was just getting started and she knew Peter wouldn’t be home for a while longer.

Peter landed gently on the fire escape, not wanting to wake y/n if she was already asleep. It wasn’t very late but she was known to have early nights and be out by ten so on nights that he didn’t know if she was asleep already he was extra quiet.

Slipping in through the unlocked bedroom window, he found their room empty but he had already heard her moving around in their living room when he started opening the window. Sliding past the curtain, he was in the bedroom and closed and locked the window behind him before taking off his mask.

He had had an early night, catching the upstate rapist much earlier in his shift. He had been trying to catch the guy for the last week and finally got him before he could ruin another woman's life. He felt relief in knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed that night wondering if the serial rapist was out there and hurting someone. Spider-Man had made New York a safer place for at least tonight and that would grant Peter a good night's sleep- if just for tonight.

As Peter was heading to leave the room, he heard the strum of a guitar and stopped, listening and wondering why he was hearing a guitar. He only counted one heartbeat so it wasn’t someone else playing. It had to be y/n.

The strum turned into a song and he took the remaining steps to be able to see out into the living room past the corner. Y/N was sitting on the floor with an acoustic guitar in her lap, looking down at it and fingers moving nimbly across the strings.

Leaning against the door frame, Peter watched and wondered why she had never told him she knew how to play. How had they been together for an entire year and he didn’t know this about her? The guitar had to be new because she didn’t have one before. He had personally moved most of her stuff when they were moving in.

Peter’s breath fell from his lungs when she started to sing.

“I grab your hand and then we run to the car, singin’ in the street and playing air guitar. Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar and I wonder if it goes too far to say I’ve never recognized a purer face. You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place. Used to think that lovin’ meant a painful chase but you’re right here now and I think you’ll stay.” She sang.

He was just in awe; he was wonderstruck. Her voice was so soft and so beautiful and steady and he hated that he hadn’t been graced by it for the last year. Then there was the matter of the lyrical content that made his heart feel like it might turn into goo. It was absolutely her own original song that was about them because a couple months ago they had been at one of y/n’s friends’ parties and they were leaving when a song that they both loved came on. The music was so loud they could still hear it from outside and had jammed out to it together, air guitar having been part of that. It was one of his favorite moments in time with her and now one of his fondest memories.

He didn’t understand why she was working her current nine to five job when she had this talent.

He tried not to be a little hurt that he didn’t know anything about this but he also knew that he had hidden Spider-Man from her for the first six months. He couldn’t exactly judge her.

“Oh we’re dacin’ in my livin’ room and up come my fists and I say I’m only playing but the truth is this: I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss. And I’m terrified but the truth is this: I said beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I know that beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong. And I hope, beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe for me to fall.”

Peter’s eyes pricked with tears as he leaned against the door frame, throat tight and wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of her and kiss her so hard that it would be able to make her feel what he was feeling which was awe, astonishment, adoration to name a few. He was also incredibly overwhelmed by how beautiful she was; sitting there in that black NYU hoodie that he knew she’d gotten on her first day with a strand of her hair falling in her face from the bun that was piled on her head and her face clear of any makeup and singing about she felt safe enough to fall because she knew he would catch her. He would always catch her. At the end of the day his most important job was protecting her. Spider-Man meant nothing if he couldn’t keep y/n safe. The final strum made him wipe at his glassy eyes and he eyed the blue notebook that was open in front of her. He had seen it a couple times but assumed it was something to do with work like a planner or a calendar. It apparently harbored every feeling she had ever felt about him, about them.

Not wanting to startle her, he breathed her name.

Still, she jumped and her head whipped in his direction. “Jesus.” She gasped. “What the fuck are you doing home so early?”

“Finished early tonight. Thought I might come home and try to see you before you went to sleep.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before nodding. “How long have you been standing there?”

He smiled fondly. “Long enough to hear the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face behind her guitar in her lap.

Stalking forward, Peter sat across from her. “Why didn’t you tell me about…any of this?”

She looked up, ears red with embarrassment and lips pursed. “I’ve never shared it with anyone.” She shrugged. “Not even my parents. It’s something I do for me and when I met you…I was more inspired than I ever have been in my life. I may not be the best singer or songwriter but it’s so therapeutic.”

Cupping her face, he brushed the strand of hair away with his thumb. “I feel like I should have paid admission to see that that’s how beautiful your voice is. And that song? You wrote that?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Wrote it the morning after Anna’s party. You were still sleeping and I just…you make me feel so safe, Pete.”

“Well, I am Spider-Man.” he chuckled.

“That’s not it. I know you’re not gonna break my heart. I just know it. I don’t know how but I do. You have no idea how many songs I’ve written about us and-and about you. Last year this thing wasn’t even halfway filled and now it’s only got a few blank pages left.”

He closed the gap and kissed her hard in a mismatch of lips and the need to show her how much he loved her in a way he could. He didn’t know how to make a song but he wanted to so badly in that moment just so she could truly understand how he felt about her because what he just heard made him know truly how she felt about him.

“Play it again.” He breathed against her lips.

“I’ll play it as many times as you want.”

When I tell you I am OBSESSED with this like she’s everything and so cute? I love her? And Peter punching that jerk in the face for her? Just bury me and write on my tombstone that this was my cause of death

Here Comes the Sun 2/3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: Peter somehow is roped into a second date with Miss Sunshine. Why is it everything she does

Warnings: AFAB!reader, language, talk and description of depression and anxiety.

"So how was your date?" May asked. 

Peter didn't know why he thought May would say anything else when he walked in. He was hoping he could avoid it. Avoid talking about his date with Miss Sunshine. 

It was bad enough that she had started sending him good morning texts. Peter didn't understand how anyone had enough energy at six in the morning to send texts filled with emojis and a daily fun fact. 

Though he was finding the facts interesting. 

"It was alright," Peter shrugged as he continued to help unload the groceries. 

"Just alright?" May asked. Peter nodded his head. He could feel her stare burning into his skin. 

"Wow Peter, she must be pretty alright if you're going on another date tomorrow." 

"How did you-" 

May just smiled, "She told me. I asked her how the date went last night, figuring I'd get a more honest response." 

"Somehow she's never been to the night market in Queens. I'm just doing my duty as a resident to fix that," Peter explained. It was the truth. He wasn't doing this because he had a crush on her or anything. That would be ridiculous. 

Right? 

May shook her head, the smile remaining on her face, "I knew you two would get along."  

"We do not get along. I tolerate her and she thinks every other thing I say is funny," Peter defended. 

"Sounds like you tolerate her enough to spend more time with her." Peter wanted to say something snarky, something defensive in response to May's comment. 

But his mind was drawing a blank. So he just continued unloading the groceries and putting them away in the kitchen. 

"She's very pretty, isn't she?" May didn't even wait for Peter to respond. His red face was enough. Peter ignored her, hoping that would be enough to silence her. 

"You two would have the cutest kids. Especially if they get your hair and her eyes." 

"May, are-are you s-serious?" Peter sputtered, "We've been on one date!" 

“Well you’re gonna have to start thinking about it sooner or later Peter. I’m not gonna be young forever and I’d like to at least play with your kids." 

"I'm not responding to this," Peter muttered as he put the milk away. He stuck his head in the fridge, hoping the cool air would bring his body temperature back down to a reasonable level. 

He also hoped it would distract him from the image he had of a small child with soft brown hair and bright, familiar eyes that had popped into his head and was refusing to go away. 

"It's really warm out," Peter commented as he closed the door to the fridge. 

"Peter, it's sixty five degrees," May remarked. 

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓ 

How did he get here? 

Peter kept asking himself that as he walked up to her door. He had agreed to meet her at her place this time. 

What was he doing? He couldn't remember the last time he went on a second date. What were you even supposed to talk about? Why did it feel like there was more pressure now compared to the first? 

No, it couldn't be pressure he was feeling. Because feeling pressured would imply that he was nervous, that he wanted the date to go well. 

And that wasn't definitely not the case. It was probably something he ate. Maybe even May's cooking. She probably got distracted from talking about Miss Sunshine so much and didn't cook the meat all the way. 

Maybe he would get sick and he could leave early. 

Peter knocked on the door to her apartment. Within (what felt like) seconds, the door opened to reveal the dreaded woman of the hour. 

"Y-you l-look nice," Peter said before he could stop himself. It was just a pair of overalls and a T-shirt. It made no sense for Peter to be thinking about how pretty she looked. 

Granted, he could acknowledge she was pretty, right? Acknowledging you found someone good-looking doesn't mean you liked them. 

Right? 

She smiled, "Thanks. You shaved!" 

Peter put his hand on his cheek upon hearing the observation, nodding his head. He figured it was time for a haircut and a shave. It was bothering him. 

That was all. Nothing more.   

"You look good. Both shaved and unshaved," She quickly added. 

"Thanks," Peter mumbled, his hand finding its way to the back of his neck. He was hoping that by wearing a T- shirt, he wouldn't feel so warm. 

It wasn't working. 

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

"So how is it you've never been here before?" Peter asked. The two were walking around the night market, taking in all the sights. Her eyes were perpetually widened ever since they arrived. 

She looked at him, shrugging, "I've only lived in the city for about three years now. And out of those three years, two of them were spent on just trying to get a fresh start and adjust." 

"A fresh start?" Peter found himself asking. She nodded her head. 

"I'll spare you the details-unless you're truly curious- but before moving here," She sighed, "I was working at a toxic, shitty place and on top of that was in a shitty relationship." 

"Oh," Peter was stumped at how she talked about it so casually. 

"Yeah, those two years I was telling you about? Where I didn't want to smile? Was too busy debating whether to crash my car on the way to work. It got to the point that I…quit my job, broke things off with my ex and asked my Aunt if I could live with her until I got back on my feet. And you know, went through a lot of therapy." She stopped walking to look at Peter, "I'm sorry, that was a lot of information to dump on you all at once." 

"No, it's…it's okay," Peter gave a small smile, hoping to reassure her. 

 He was jealous. Jealous of how she was able to talk about it so casually, like it weighed nothing. Like it didn't keep her up at night. Like it didn't affect every single decision she made. Didn't weigh on everything she did, every move she made. 

"Thanks," She smiled back, "Wanna go check out this Arepa stand?" 

It was like she knew that he needed a distraction. She motioned towards the vendor. Peter nodded, catching up with her. Not wanting to lose her (and face May's wrath as a result), he grabbed her closest hand.  

She stopped moving, looking down at Peter's hand and then back up to him. A small, knowing smile began to form on her face. 

"I forgot to bring the kid leash." Peter explained, as if that was sufficient. It should have been, in Peter's mind. 

"Okay," except the sly smile on her face was telling Peter she didn't believe him. 

"Look, I wouldn't have to worry if someone had eaten all their vegetables and grown a few extra inches." 

"You can't find me with that giraffe neck of your's?" She remarked back. 

Peter stopped, putting a hand over his heart, feigning shock and offense.  

"What if I told you I was super self conscious about that? I thought you were supposed to be sweet." He was unable to contain the grin on his face. 

She leaned in (or in her case, up) to Peter, "Who says something sweet can't have a little bite to it?" 

Peter felt hot all over his body. He looked down at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact.    

"You're really cute when you're flustered," Sunshine giggled. 

Nope, that was it. Peter had to put an end to this now. 

"I….I'm not flustered!" Was the best he could come up with.  

"Whatever you say, Parker. Now let's get an Arepa!" She began walking with him, still holding his hand. 

"You do not make me flustered," Peter mumbled, kicking a nearby rock. 

"I just make you feel hot and fuzzy inside, right?" Peter stopped dead in his tracks. How did she know?  

As if Miss Sunshine could read his mind, she remarked, "I feel the same way. Even when you're being Mr. Grumpy Gills."  

"Mr. Grumpy Gills? That's the best you can do, Miss Sunshine?"   

"It's what we call the stuffed fish we have in my classroom when we talk about different feelings," She explained, hiding her smile at his nickname for her. 

He could leave now. He could make up some excuse. Or Peter could just bolt out of there-wouldn't be the first time. He could leave and never speak to her again. 

He could go home, back to his apartment. Back to dodging dates from May. 

Back to being alone. 

Normally, that thought wouldn't bother Peter. He had become used to it. It was familiar, normal for him. It was safe. 

Not being alone for one night couldn't hurt. Right? 

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓ 

"These questions are all horrible," Peter laughed before taking a sip of his drink. 

"That's because you refuse to answer them!" She giggled, motioning to her phone. The two were sitting down, eating their Arepas. She had suggested twenty questions, as a way to learn more about each other.  

Of course, he found something wrong with the questions. Too deep. Too shallow. Too ridiculous. Too confusing. 

"Alright, I think I have one," She put her phone away, "Do you have names picked out for your kids? Like what would you want to name them?" 

"Why do you keep asking questions related to parenthood?" Peter asked. 

"Because it's important to me, and I see you smile whenever the idea of kids are brought up." 

Peter rolled his eyes, though the smile remained on his face. It disappeared once he realized that he had never thought about that. After Gwen….he assumed that opportunity was gone. 

Gwen. 

He braced himself for the gut wrenching feeling that would start in the pit of his stomach, then bubble up to his chest and throat-

"You okay?" Peter snapped out of his thoughts as soon as he felt her hand on his wrist. 

"Huh? Yeah, yeah…just never uh…thought about it," He quickly explained. 

Huh. That feeling was gone now. That was new. 

She smiled gently, "I can go first?" Peter nodded his head. 

"If I had a girl, I would name her Sophia. Call her Sophie as her nickname. Call her Sophie-Soph when she's a baby and a teenager," She grinned. 

"She's gonna hate that as a teenager, you know." 

"I'm aware. It's how I'll embarrass her when she's a moody teenager. You gotta start thinking of how you'll embarrass them!" She tapped a finger to her temple, earning a laugh out of Peter. It was then Peter noticed that whenever he laughed, her nose would scrunch up and the corners of her eyes would crinkle. 

Weird. 

After the laughter settled down, Peter spoke softly. 

"Benjamin." 

"Hmm?" She looked at him, as if she couldn't believe he actually gave her an answer. 

"If I had a son, I'd name him Benjamin….after my Uncle," He said softly.

She nodded her head, her eyes sad despite the smile on her face. Peter figured if she knew May, she knew what had happened. Or had been told the non-Spiderman version. 

"I've always liked that tradition," She said softly. 

She was good about comforting and assuring people. Peter would give her that. 

"Next question?" He asked, trying to force some lightness into his voice. 

"Favorite ice cream flavor." 

"These questions are all over the place." 

"I'm following up a deeper question with a lighter question! Now what's your favorite flavor? I went first last time, so it's your turn." 

"Raspberry sorbet." 

She snorted, "that's not ice cream." 

"It's close enough. Besides, you probably think mint chocolate chip is good." 

Her silence as she looked down told Peter the answer. He was about to make another joke when he noticed the shift in her body language. The smile was gone and her eyes were narrow and hard. He knew that look. 

A memory had been brought up. One that unpleasant and she'd rather not think about.

"Hey," Peter said, his voice now soft, "Sorry about that. I can see why folks like it, it just reminds me too much of toothpaste. But I shouldn't have been a dick about it." 

She giggled, the light slowly returning to her eyes, "Sorry, my….my ex gave me shit for that all the time." 

"He gave you shit over your favorite ice cream flavor?" Peter knew he wasn't perfect, he wasn't the living embodiment of joy. But he wasn't that bad. 

"He gave me shit for a lot of dumb things. And then would comment on how it made him sad that I had such low self-esteem," The chuckle she let out was bitter and cold.

"Wow that is….some strong cognitive dissonance right there," Peter paused, "I'm glad he's your ex." 

She looked at Peter, a soft smile on her face, "Me too. But he's part of the reason I spent my first two years in the city in therapy rather than going out and exploring. I had to figure out why I stuck with someone like that for so long." 

"And now you're on a date with me?" Peter blurted out. He wasn't trying to be mean. He was just confused why the living embodiment of sunshine was on a second date with him. 

"You're not a jerk, you're just guarded."

"I thought I was Mr. Grumpy Gills?" He said, wiggling his eyebrows, which got a genuine laugh out of her. 

"Again, you're not a jerk about it. I mean, besides that one time at the very beginning of our first date. But then you stopped," She said, smiling at the memory. 

"Well, I still feel like I was a jerk back there about your favorite ice cream flavor. So can I get you some to make it up?" He asked. 

"I would love that!"   

"You gonna stay in that spot?" Peter asked, grinning. 

"Pinky promise," She held out her pinky,  "What? It's a big deal in first grade."

"Yeah, I remember. That's probably the last time I did one." She continued to hold out her pinky, her bright eyes on Peter. 

"Fine," Peter mumbled, gently hooking his pinky around her's, "But only because I forgot to bring a balloon to tie to you." 

"I need you to know that I only tolerate your short jokes because they're clever," She told him, leaning in. 

"Oh please, like I would use 'what it's like down there'. I hope you think better of me than that." 

She leaned in, the scene of lavender filling Peter's nostrils, "I do." 

"Oh."

Peter lingered, his pinky still wrapped around her's. It was then he noticed how soft her lips looked. Which, in Peter's mind, was a weird thing for him to notice. Why did it matter if her lips looked soft? 

He needed to get up. All that sitting was doing something weird to his brain. 

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓ 

Peter turned around, ice cream in hand.

She had stayed in her spot, but she wasn't alone.   

Some random guy was standing next to her, trying to strike up a conversation. Her body language had totally shifted.       

It was cold, her eyes narrowed and looking away, avoiding eye contact. 

Through the crowd, her eyes found Peter's. He knew that look. He had seen it too many times while out on patrol. 

Help.

He was pretty sure he dropped the cup of ice cream. Not that he cared. His eyes were locked on her, refusing to look anywhere else. His stomach was all in knots. 

It lurched when that piece of shit gripped her arm when she tried to walk towards Peter. He knew where this was going. He had stumbled upon that ending one too many times late at night, the visceral image seared into his brain. 

That was not going to happen to her. 

Peter ran, all but shoving people out of the way. He caught a glimpse of the frightened look on her face and that was enough to justify grabbing the creep by the neck of his sweater and throwing him to the ground. 

"Touch her again and I won't be as nice next time," He spat, turning towards her. 

Peter softened when he saw how her hands were shaking."Are you okay?" He asked her. He reached his arms towards her, ready to pull her in and never let go, when the hairs on his neck stood up. 

Peter turned around, thankful his right hand was still balled into a fist. He pulled that arm back, releasing it as he turned around. His fist made perfect contact with the creep's jaw. In a way, Peter was thankful for the terror that was coursing through his veins. It was the only thing that was holding him back from using all his enhanced strength. Sending the guy right back to the ground was enough. 

"When I said I wouldn't be as nice, I meant I'd break ya fucking neck!" He stepped forward, ready to lunge at him, when a small, soft hand grabbed his wrist. 

"C'mon, let's get out of here, okay?" Her voice told him. 

Peter didn't remember moving to a more secluded spot. His brain was too busy playing images of what could have happened to her-had he not gotten there in time- over and over again. Every scenario that was played ended in him being responsible for her spilled blood. 

The air felt heavy, the weight making it nearly impossible to breathe. His heart was thumping against his chest. 

Peter wanted to sit down. But also stand up. He felt like he was going to throw up. He leaned over, his hands now on his knees. It felt like he was drowning, desperate to reach out for anything-

"Peter?" He looked up towards the calm, steady voice. 

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Peter repeated over and over. He couldn't trust his own eyes. 

"Peter, I'm fine. You saved me back there." 

"I saved you?" Peter had a hard time believing it. 

"Yeah, you saved me. And then you almost broke that dude's jaw, which I honestly don't blame you, I was ready to-"

"I saved you?" She tilted her head in confusion at his question. Then her eyes softened. She didn't know the whole story, the truth of what actually happened at the clock tower. But even with the official cover version, it became clear why he was having a hard time believing it. 

"Yes, I'm fine. See?" She took one of his shaking hands and put it over her chest. He could feel it beating, confirming his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. 

"Your heart's beating fast," He whispered, his eyes locked on the hand she was holding.

"Because I'm worried about you. You're having a panic attack," She said calmly. 

"H-how do you know?" 

"Because I used to have them all the time. I mean, I still get them occasionally," she explained, like it was no big deal. Like Peter didn't feel like he was dying.      

"Just breathe with me, okay? You want me to tell you a story to distract you? Sometimes that helps me." Peter nodded his head at her offering. 

"Alright, geeze what story," She looked down, trying to think, "Oh!" Her eyes immediately lit up. Peter was certain if she was a cartoon, a lit lightbulb would have appeared over her head. 

"So, when I was five, I had a huge obsession with mermaids. Like any movie or book that had to do with mermaids, I consumed it. So at the beach my family went to, there was this women's boutique. Like, think beachwear your fifty year old Aunt from Jersey would wear." Peter found himself chuckling at the description. 

"So the store was called the Mermaid's Jewel and I would beg to go there. Not for the clothes. My mom and Aunts hated the clothes there, they thought they were so tacky. But I begged to go because it had Mermaid in the name and outside of the store was this really gaudy statue of a mermaid. I'd talk about the store so much, my family started calling me MJ. And that's how I got my nickname. Well, at least my family's nickname." 

Peter smiled, "MJ, huh?" She nodded her head. 

It was then Peter noticed that he could actually take in a breath of air without feeling like he was suffocating. He looked down and saw that his hand was still placed over her chest. He quickly pulled away, hoping that by looking away she couldn't see how red his face had become. 

"How ya feeling?" She asked, "Better?" 

"Yeah, you're…..you're really good at that," He admitted. Usually when that happened, he would just sit or lie down until the feelings passed. Sometimes it would take minutes. Sometimes it would take up to an hour.  

Peter didn't know how much time had passed since punching the rando and the end of her story. But he didn't care. 

"Thanks. I mean, I just did what I like to do when I have them. Everyone's different. I'm honestly surprised you let me touch you," She admitted. Peter didn't blame her. He hadn't been the most affectionate. 

Besides holding her hand. And that was just to make sure she didn't get lost. 

"Do you…..wanna get out of here? We can go back to my place?" She offered. 

"You….you still want to continue this date?" Peter blurted out. As soon as he said it, he knew how ridiculous it sounded. Miss Sunshine just coached him through all that. If she wanted to leave, the time to do so would have been when Peter was punching that creep. Or when they went to a more  secluded spot. Or when he was too busy trying to find a spot on the ground to focus on so he wouldn't dry heave. 

"That….that was dumb. Of me to ask! You're not dumb, far from it. That's the quickest I've gotten through one of those, those uh-"

"Panic attacks?" 

"Yeah." Realization then hit Peter like a freight train. 

"I dropped your ice cream." 

She laughed, despite the hint of sadness in her eyes. She took his hands into her's. It was then Peter realized that despite her hands being much smaller, they fit pretty well with his. 

Odd. 

"It's okay. I think I now owe you some ice cream." She laughed softly, bringing a smile to Peter's face. 

"I passed a bodega on the way to your place. We could stop there?" Peter suggested. 

"I'd like that," She nodded. Peter grabbed her hand as they began walking. 

Not because he thought he'd lose her. 

It was just nice. 

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

"No, put it back." Peter ordered. A pout formed on her face, one that she probably learned from her students. 

"We came in for one thing! Ice cream, remember?" He motioned towards the basket he was carrying. Peter got a basket specifically because they were only there for one thing. 

"The pretzels are for the ice cream!" She explained, holding the bag up. 

"Pretzels would go terrible with mint chocolate chip and raspberry sorbet," Peter retorted. 

"They go great with chocolate chip cookie dough." 

"We don't have…." She motioned towards the basket. Peter looked down. To his surprise, a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough was there. He looked back at her, confused and also impressed. 

"How did you….." She giggled. Peter hated it. One person shouldn't be that fucking cute. 

"I'm sneaky like that." She shrugged with a coy smile, putting the bag of pretzels in the basket as she walked by Peter. 

"We're checking out now," He told her, despite knowing it would fall on deaf ears. 

"I need pizza rolls," She explained, like it was clear as day. 

"We did not come here for pizza rolls!" Peter felt like he was talking to a child. 

Why did he agree to this? 

"Ayyo!" The owner of the Bodega called from the register, "If ya lady wants pizza rolls, let'er get 'em!" 

"Oh, um she sh-she isn't m-my-" Peter tried to get out, his face bright red. 

"Thank you!" Sunshine called out before turning to Peter, "We should listen to Al, he's pretty great and wise." 

"Because he knows that once you put some pizza rolls in the basket, you're gonna get like five other things and then I'll have to get a cart!" He whispered, not wanting to face Al's scolding. 

After several minutes of whisper arguing, Peter and the little sassy ball of sunshine were at the cash register, letting Al ring up way more than one item. 

Al smirked, pointing to her while looking at Peter, "Ya learnin' quickly. She may look sweet but ya girl's a feisty one."

"She i-is…I mean, I-I'm-" Peter tried to get out. 

"He is learning quickly Al!" She said with a grin that Peter wanted to wipe off her face. Whether he wanted to accomplish that with his sleeves or another part of his body-

Why would he want to do that? Oh fuck. Did he want to do that? 

No. He didn't. Right? 

"He seems like'a good egg for ya" Al said to her. She nodded her head, running a hand up and down Peter's arm. The touch sent a chill up his spine. 

Why did this Bodega insist on making the store so cold? 

Peter grabbed the shopping bags, trying (and failing) to hide his flustered face. 

"He is," She said, motioning to Peter, "Have a good night Al!" 

"Do you know how infuriating you are?" Peter asked as soon as they were outside of the Bodega. 

"Are you that upset he thought I was 'ya lady's?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Despite the body language, her face was relaxed. Just a raised eyebrow to indicate how curious she was to hear Peter's response. 

It was aggravating. 

"No!" Peter stopped, realizing now he has to actually think about why he was so frustrated. 

It was her, it had to be. She was so grating with her sweet, calm voice. So repulsing with her cuffed overalls, that had a stray flower sticking out from one of the pockets. So unbearable with her soft skin, kind eyes, calming nature, kissable lips-

Kissable? What an inaccurate adjective to describe her lips. They were soft (well they looked soft), and always tinted with a soft rosy hue. She did this odd thing where she'd bit her bottom lip when she was deep in concentration-

"Are you even listening or did you get lost in my eyes again?" Her words snapped Peter out of the daze her horrible, lavender perfume put him in. 

"I do not get lost in your eyes," Peter sputtered, thrown in the air out of exasperation. 

"Oh what? You space out and it happens to consistently land on my eyes when you face me at any angle?" She snorted. 

"Okay, so I look at your eyes sometimes! Eye contact is very important, or so they told me! I don't just look at your eyes-"

"Sometimes you look at my lips. I'll give you that too." She shrugged. 

"I do not…y-you are insinuating a lot here, Little Miss Sunshine!" 

"I think you're trying to insinuate I'm not your type. Which is hilarious considering how you look at me and hold my hand!" Peter began to walk away, but then she had to make a comment about him holding her hand and he turned around. 

"I hold your hand like anyone who forgot the human leash would!" 

"Oh, they squeeze the hand without thinking about it and brush their thumb back and forth?" 

"Y-You are s-so small and in-infuriating!" He managed to get out. 

Miss Sunshine leaned in, her lips dangerously close to his, "Really? You seem to like it a lot, Peter." 

The only way to shut her up, the only way to wipe that smirk off her face, was to kiss her. Simple as that. It was just a way to get her to-

Who the fuck was he kidding? 

Her lips were soft. They tasted like vanilla. First she smelled great, now she tasted great too? Peter needed to find out where she got the audacity. 

After he was done kissing her. 

She broke away to collect air. The smirk was still on her face. His hands were still cradling her neck.  

"Wipe that smirk off your face." 

"Make me." 

Kissing her was the best course of action. Besides, it felt really good when Miss Sunshine weaved her hands through his hair.  

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

Somehow, they got back to her apartment. It took everything it had in Peter not to reveal his alter ego so he could pick her up and swing her back. 

It was rusty at first. The mechanics a distant memory. Soon it became familiar once again, like riding a bike for the first time in years. 

She somehow managed to put the plastic bags somewhere in her apartment. That was pretty impressive considering Peter was pressing her up against the kitchen wall. 

They broke away for oxygen, her hair tickling Peter's chin as she buried her face into his chest. 

The scent of her conditioner smelled of mint and rosemary. It was the cool scent that brought him out of the mile-high cloud he was in. 

He was kissing her. 

He. Was. Kissing. Her. 

Oh God, what was he doing? 

He stumbled backwards, letting go of her. He took in the sight of her, gasping for air and gripping the counter. 

Horror washed over him. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. He never intended to get this far. He never let it get this far, what had he done? 

"W-we can stop," She suggested, her voice small, "I k-know it's been awhile for-"

"You don't know me." It was true, not malicious. She didn't know him. She didn't know about what he had truly seen, what plagued his mind. What he did at night. 

She didn't know any of those things. So why was he doing this with her? 

"It's only our second date," She explained, her confidence faltering with each spoken word. 

"Then why are we doing this?" He whispered, trying to make sense of it. He had spent years successfully avoiding this. The last time he had genuinely done this was with-

No. That couldn't be it. That was impossible. Because he didn't deserve that and had accepted that long ago.

"Be-because we like each other?" She tried to make it sound like it was obvious. But by the way her eyes were dullening, she thought otherwise. 

"This was a mistake. I'm sorry. I-I….I never wanted to hurt you," the part was true. It was why he had been avoiding being in this situation for almost a decade. 

She scoffed, "if you're doing what I think you're doing…."

"I gotta go. I-I'm s-so sorry." 

He heard her call his name. He just ran out the door, desperate to get out and away. His breathing was shallow, coming out in short gasps. He wanted to vomit. He was suffocating-

Right. She called them panic attacks. 

He got back to his apartment, quickly putting on his masked vigilante ensemble. He could clear his head, he had to when he put on the mask. 

Peter swung around, desperate for a distraction. He noticed an odd, glowing light coming from an alley. He swung down, thankful for the interruption. 

He walked towards the light, it looking almost like a window with the way the source flickered. Each time he thought he was getting closer, he felt like he was moving further away from the alley. 

As he stepped through, his stomach, every bone in his body lurched forward. He felt sick, like he was on a rollercoaster. The sensation lasted both briefly and for what felt like an eternity. 

When he opened his eyes (when did he close them?), He was back in the alleyway. He slowly swung out, trying to keep his presence hidden. 

Something was off. Way off. 

It wasn't just the alert system that sent shockwaves through his body, a sensation due to a Spider bite he received years ago. 

It was the off-putting, mildly disorienting feeling you received when you saw a well known logos in the wrong color or font. 

It was New York City. 

But it wasn't his city. 

His attempt to take in all the differences was cut off when the hairs on the back of his neck pointed him towards the left. 

Peter turned, raising his hand out in time to catch a brick that was targeted towards his head. 

He heard his name called. Spider-Man. Parker. Peter. 

How would they know? That was impossible. 

"You think a new suit will make us forget about what you did to Mysterio?" An angry voice called out. 

Who the hell was Mysterio? 

Peter swung out of the way, needing to get further up between the buildings, away from the crowds. 

He pulled out his phone, repeating the ten digits of May's number in his head as the call went dead every time. 

Something was wrong. Awfully wrong.

He was in New York City. 

And yet he wasn't. 

And the face on the huge digital televisions in Times Square. The face the news had attached to his name. Peter Parker. 

That was not him. 

What the fuck was going on? 

So so happy you liked it!!

HIII!! I saw that you requests are open so here is mine :D What if reader got Peter flowers? <333

A/N: I love this! lets pretend I posted this yesterday on Valentine's day lol

Love, Sunshine, and Beauty

Peter was a really kind and thoughtful boyfriend. He always did like things for y/n like leaving little notes for her to find while he was on patrol and she had just gotten home from work. One time he left a small flower that he must have picked from the bush outside on the soap holder in the shower. He was always doing things to make her smile and know that he thought about her and wanted to make her smile, even if he wasn't there to see it. Being Spider-Man made him miss out on some things that he wished he could be there for like the birthday party she had last year that her best friend threw her at a bar in Brooklyn. It being at night, Peter wasn't able to make it and she understood but it bothered him a lot that he wasn't there for his girlfriends birthday party. That was when the little things had started and y/n adored them more than Peter knew. So when Valentine's day came around, she realized that this was her chance to do something sweet for Peter like he often did for her.

She'd never bought flowers before, especially not for a man so she wasn't sure what to get. She wandered around the grocery store looking at the tons of different arrangements they had but none of them stood out to her until she came across a bouquet of sunflowers, red roses, and daisies. They all meant something that was so true to Peter. It was perfect.

Their shared apartment was empty when she got home and she knew Peter was most likely at the lab still. They had early dinner plans for Valentine's day so he would be home shortly.

After putting the bouquet in a vase with some water, she left it on the counter that faced the front door with a card that she propped up to stand and a small box of chocolates before getting in the shower.

Peter closed the front door behind him, hearing the shower and knowing y/n was in it. They had dinner plans shortly and he couldn't wait to take her to the restaurant. It was where they had their first date two years ago and also the same place she had told him she loved him for the first time just a few months later.

He looked up and stopped in his tracks.

On the kitchen counter was a vase with different flowers. At first, he immediately thought that someone else had given them to her before he had a chance to give her the roses he had in had in his hand, but then he saw the propped card with his name on it.

He dropped his backpack on the empty counter space and picked up the card and opened it.

Peter, Happy Valentines day, my love. I know men don't usually receive flowers, even on v-day but I wanted to give you back some of the beauty you give to me every day. The roses are for how much I love you, the sunflowers are for the sunshine you bring into my life, and the daisies are for the beauty that is you. I love you endlessly.

                                                                  -love, y/n

Peter smiled wide and kissed the card before setting it down and taking in the flowers, seeing her meaning in each type. He knew how lucky he was to be love by her and he felt her love with the gesture and with the beautiful flowers. He was saddened that he wouldn't be able to keep them forever. Maybe he could have one of each pressed and framed. He would have to look into that before they died.

The sound of the shower stopping had him moving and he was coming into the bedroom at the same time y/n was getting out with a towel around her.

"Hey, babe." She beamed. "Happy Valentine's."

He pulled the bouquet of roses out from behind his back, his face partially hidden by them and a smile a mile wide pulling his at his lips.

"Peter." She cooed, taking them. "These are gorgeous."

"Happy Valentine's day, baby."

"Did you see yours?" She asked hopefully.

"No one's ever gotten me flowers before and I love them." He kissed her cheek, thinking back to the arrangement that was sitting on the kitchen counter fondly.

A year later, y/n walked down the aisle with a bouquet of red roses, sunflowers, and daisies.