Silver Wit: IV - Let Barricades Be Bygones

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'“Cool, cool. Great, even,” Peter hums his approval. Leaning in impossibly closer, somehow taking care not to touch me, he whispers into my ear.

“So– we’ll just have to get to know each other better, then.”"

Silver Wit Masterlist Silver Wit on ao3 taglist: @silverzoomies, @quickandsilvers, @icannot3

tw: more adhd coded trauma and vulnerability, not sure it warrants a tw

a/n: i cannot believe it and i apologise deeply for doing this, but i wrote another entire fucking chapter of this first conversation between speaker and peter. i promise this is the last one - their conversation ends at the end of this chapter i am baffled that i ever intended on having their first interaction be a couple of minutes. even a few seconds. wtf also idk how i keep churning out these chapters so im not sure if the quality of the writing is being maintained - i'm still very impulsive, though, so i'm publishing them as i go anyway. i have no beta so please forgive me

Silver Wit: IV - Let Barricades Be Bygones

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

The two of us bathe in silence for a moment that to me – feels simultaneously both like eternity and nary a trice. Calling this ‘perplexing’ would be a gross understatement.

I wonder how long this moment is for Peter.

My god, how easily the flutters in my chest from only moments ago had turned into aches, so much like thunderstorms buried deep within my chest; bitter storms not unlike the London rains that punished me not long ago. At my heartstrings is Aphrodite pulling, breaking, tearing away with forces unattainable by any of us mortals, but she has absolutely no need. Whatever the higher powers may do upon me would be in vain; I would feel this deeply for Peter regardless of anything that tried to stop me.

I can’t bear holding my words back anymore. “Peter…” I whisper, my voice breaking, a tremble, a tremolo.

“Yeah?” From his eyes being fixated on the floor, back to me they flicker in an instant. I can just about see wells of stifled sorrow threatening to spill from them; only a dam he’s been building for years is stopping the flood. His mask of jocular self-deprecation is cracking.

It’s difficult to read his expression, but he can’t read mine either.

In the few years of my life, admittedly so far short - living as whatever it is that I am - I’ve learned that in silence readily comes doubt. The mind panics as it reels, from a self-loathing spiral to desperately attempting to console itself; often, with little to no success. If in Peter I see myself, perhaps he’s the same way.

A small part of me hopes he sees me in himself too.

“I think I understand… I get what you meant now. How you told me that what I was saying felt like it was straight out of your head?” I confess.

The unreadable look on his face turns into that same sombre smile I saw from before. He shakily nods as he takes in a breath, shallow.

“Maybe you’re afraid - that those people who’ve already gotten to know you as Quicksilver - wouldn’t like to see you change – no, not change; open up. That you don’t want to upset the equilibrium that’s already been established?”

I’m making sure to look him in the eyes. He needs to know whatever I’m saying is the truth and nothing but the truth. “But the person I met here was you, Peter. I didn’t meet ‘Quicksilver’,” I say slowly, such that he has the time to ingest every single word that I’m saying to him.

Peter swallows and hums an affirmation, his head dipping before he nods.

I continue, “I… can’t even explain how much I understand being afraid of being honest. Being authentic. But from what I’ve seen, whoever ‘Peter’ is? He’s hilarious, he’s kind, and he’s insightful. He’s loveable. Even from the little while we’ve sat here together, I know for a fact that there’s more to you than meets the eye. You don’t have to keep hiding. We already have to do enough hiding as it is.”

“Thank you… seriously,” Peter whispers, choking. He takes another breath in, lets it out, and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, I– I need a second. It’s not that I’m not thankful that you’re being so nice. I am, really. You’re being so understanding and I– I just… gotta process everything. I’m good, promise.”

I nod and internally smack myself in the head once I realise he can’t see it. You absolute pillock. “Of course. Take whatever time you need.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, relieved. Through the look on his face, I can see clearly how quickly his mind is racing. As he props his head up in his hands, elbows on his knees, his eyes remain closed. The outside has to be shut out – inside is chaos enough. It doesn’t matter that I’m growing anxious waiting for him to respond. He needs this respite.

Peter finally opens his eyes and returns his gaze to meet mine with a timid smile. “Sorry about that,” he breathes. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear what you said. I worry about it so much, but I just can’t tell anyone, y’know? Like, that’s the entire problem. It’s a fucked up paradox.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Mm-mm, it’s alright. I think I do understand, now. I mean– it wouldn’t be fair to say that I know exactly what you feel,” I glance up at the clock above the fireplace. “After all, we did just meet for the first time only half an hour ago.”

“Wow… Half an hour? Man… it feels like I’ve known you for ages. Or that you’ve known me for ages, anyway…” Peter murmurs in disbelief.

“I know. It’s… strange. I– I will never know what it’s like to be you, that’s impossible, and I’ll never try nor claim to. But… I just can’t shake this feeling. Somehow I feel like we’re–” I catch myself before I say something daft. What the hell are you thinking?

“Don’t overthink it,” Peter interjects. Silently, I thank the Fates for saving me from impulsively humiliating myself. “I feel it too, man. I mean, yeah. We’re not the same person, obviously. You have your own personality and I have mine, but…” He stops for a second, his face turning pink once more. “I’ve never ever met someone else who’s so much like me– At least, someone else who’s… I don’t know what you would even call it, but… different; and I’m not talking about being a mutant.”

Peter stills for a breath. “Like, fine, sure, we just met. Doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’ve been more myself around you than I have anyone else in years.” It’s a relief to see how quickly he’s bounced back.

What Peter just said doesn’t register immediately, but my eyes fly wide open the moment it does. The blush I’ve been trying so hard to force back down decides to bend to my rule no longer. My heartbeat is drumming against my ribs. Pursing my lips in my completely flustered state, I turn away to hide whatever idiocy is emanating from my entire being.

Without meeting his eyes, I say, “I’m glad you said it and not me, because I think I might have died if you hadn’t agreed. And… I agree– about never meeting someone else like me before. I don’t know how else to say this, but it’s really comforting knowing I’m not the only one who’s… like this. Whatever ‘this’ is.”

He sniffs then chuckles; the sound of it sends reverberations saccharine straight into my heartbeat. “You aren’t the only one, and now I finally know I’m not either, so, thank you; and seriously, thanks for saying what you said. I never thought I’d ever hear anyone tell me what you just did.”

“I meant all of it,” I say sincerely.

He tries to suppress that smug smirk I’d seen so many times before. “All of it? So… Loveable, huh?” he finally says.

Fuck.

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

Mission abort. Mission abort. Turn around now before you can never go back.

“Oi! You know what I mean, stop poking fun at me. I was trying to be nice and you just take it as an opportunity to take the piss out of me? You’re such a prat,” I swat at him as I joke.

“I know, I know. I’m just making a little fun. What’s a prat? Also... taking the piss? Does that mean what I think it means?” Peter asks, a sly grin plastered across his face.

I sigh loudly. “Oh come on, you can get these from context, can’t you?” I say, exaggeratedly exasperated. Inwardly, I’m tickled pink.

“Oh, the genius can’t take the time to teach the idiot about one little thing?” He feigns a fainting spell in despair, much like those so common in tragic theatricals. Charming.

“Hey, you’re not an idiot. But seriously, do you actually want me to sit you down so that I can teach you British slang? Learning is my entire thing, and even I have to say that that sounds like a dreadful class,” I cock my head to the side, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

Peter beams coyly, tousles his hair, and bounces his leg. “If I get to listen to you talk the whole time? Yeah, man, I’d take a whole course. I know you said that you think Slavic languages sound pretty, but your accent is real pretty, y’know? It’ll probably get even stronger if you start talking about all of your English stuff. Come on, I can’t miss that.”

I blink. Did not expect that response, at all. I did think to myself that I would eventually educate him on British slang, but I didn’t think he’d actually want to sit down and learn about any of it.

“You’re… probably right, actually. I imagine my accent would start getting even more painfully British if I actually focused on talking about… well, Britain. Still though, I truly don’t believe you’ll enjoy sitting through me lecturing you about our weird insults and euphemisms.”

“Try me,” Peter taunts me, a coy smirk lacing his tone with mirth. “Hell, I’ll even speak some Russian to you in exchange.”

“Really?” I ask, doubtful. I can’t lie, getting to hear Peter speak in Russian does seem really appealing. Not because it’s Peter, I tell myself. It’s just getting to hear a Slavic language for the first time. I’ve always wanted that, right?

Peter nods.

“Don’t complain when I come back with a three hour lesson plan, then,” I jokingly warn him. The teasing is starting to grow on me. I can see why he’s been doing it to me so much now.

He grins, pleased. “I’ll ace this class. You don’t even know, man. I try not to brag about it–”

I point a finger at him accusingly. “You try not to brag?” I interject rhetorically. “That’s definitely not consistent with whatever I’ve seen so far.”

“Hey! That’s just about my powers. I’m a totally badass speedster and I’m not afraid to show it. If that means I’m bragging, then fine,” Peter harrumphs, defensively denying whatever I insinuated, and I snicker. “Anyway, like I was saying - before someone rudely interrupted me…” Peter looks at me pointedly, to which I disapprovingly raise my eyebrows in response.

He continues, “I try not to brag about it, since I’ve been maintaining this whole class clown schtick I have going on? But I’m actually a pretty good student. Only when I want to be, though. I’m not good at the actual studying bit.”

“I’m honestly not surprised, Peter,” I say, and I genuinely mean it.

It’s not like he had tried to be overtly intellectual while we’d been getting acquainted with one another, but he did carry himself with an intelligence – admittedly, an intelligence that might have gone unnoticed to some if they hadn’t paid attention. It takes brains to consistently pretend not to have them. “And also, you really don’t have to dumb yourself down for me. Please don’t. I actually actively dislike it when people do.”

Peter tilts his head side to side. “Oh, so the little genius wants me to get on her level? Challenge accepted, I’ll do it, just you wait,” he chaffs.

For all of my worries that I’d be treated differently for being slapped in the face with the ‘genius’ label, Peter’s nonchalance about it really eases my spirits. Hell, the boy was even incorporating it into his banter. I’ve been so afraid that it would make people think that if I was honest about it, that I was being haughty, ‘holier-than-thou’. To Peter, it’s as if it’s just another regular thing about me– it doesn’t make me an outsider, and he doesn't think I need to be placed on a pedestal. I can finally breathe again.

Still, I don’t want him to get the impression that I’m just an arrogant arsehole. “Oi, bugger off. I don’t think I’m better than you or anything like that. I’m just saying; you shouldn’t have to pretend to be someone else, right? Like we were literally saying just a moment ago? Especially if being ‘someone else’ means you have to hide your strengths,” I clarify.

Peter squints as he looks off into the middle distance, calculating something in his head. “Hey… I couldn’t impress you by breaking into the actual Pentagon, right?”

I frown. “I never said that.”

Peter touches his hand to his heart, shaking his head. “Didn’t have to– heard you loud and clear, man. It wasn’t good enough for you, that’s fine,” he showily gestures and huffs with finality.

I roll my eyes at the melodrama. “Again, never said that, but sure mate, whatever you say,” I concede with a sigh.

“Listen, I made a vow to myself that I’d impress you. Fine, the superhero stuff doesn’t cut it for you. And y’know, I gotta say, I was kinda expecting that the whole superhero thing would impress girls by default. You’re gonna be a challenge, but Peter Maximoff will not be defeated. So… Maybe I just have to take the intellectual route with ya’, huh?” he ribs at me, ruffling his hair.

Teasing Peter is fun, but being teased by him is mortifying.

I can maintain my calm. I can be smooth. “Alright, sure then, if you insist,” I fold my arms and press myself back into the cushions behind me. “I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on trying to win my admiration, but it’ll be entertaining to watch your many attempts. What do you have for me?”

Peter bubbles his lips with a loud pop. He looks at me warningly. “I know I said I only brag about my powers, but fuck it, I’ll boast about this– And hey, before you complain, you invited me to.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. Go on, the floor is yours,” I motion for him to proceed.

“Yeah so, no one would expect it, but I get top marks all round, baby. Only the teachers know that, ‘cause I wanna keep things on the down low, yeah? But hey, you’ll find out for yourself soon, right? I’m gonna take this class o’ yours, and I’ll turn in assignments, I’ll go to every class, I’ll do all of your required reading—” Peter rattles on.

“Really?” I interrupt to ask dubiously, bringing my hand up to my chin, “What about the recommended reading?” No one does the recommended reading. This has to be a joke, right?

Peter clicks his tongue and winks. “Hey, if it’ll get me in with the teacher, I’d do all the reading and more. I can totally be a teacher’s pet. You just wait and see.”

Let me implode right now.

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

“But uh, seriously, joking aside,” Turning sincere again, Peter clears his throat again and adjusts his seating position on the sofa to face me better. Thank god, he was joking. “I know I can get carried away trying to joke about things and all? But what you said before that means a lot to me.”

Right. That.

“Oh, uh– Don’t worry about it, yeah?” I’m getting embarrassed again remembering what I’d said. I was so caught up in the moment, I called Peter loveable? I know we brushed it off, but this is a nightmare. Why did I have to be reminded of that?

I find myself unable to stop over-elaborating in an attempt to cover up my awkwardness, “I just think you should start being more yourself, Peter. Since that’s what you want, right? Maybe break out of your shell? Oh, god, that’s too much of a cliche– uh, live more authentically? Be who you really are? Ugh, no, now I sound like some counsellor. How do I even say this? I… just hope that you can feel comfortable being yourself some day.”

“Hey, you don’t needa freak out. I get what you’re saying, and uh… thanks. Thank you, I mean. Don’t wanna make you think I’m not appreciative or whatever,” Peter begins twisting a silver lock between his fingers. “And uh… I hope you get to take them off one day, if you want. The gloves, I mean.”

The gloves – I’m caught off guard. I try to look down at my hands but I don’t see them. All I do see is the leather gloves covering them, separating me from the rest of the world. There are a few biological mutations that propelled humans into becoming the complex lifeforms that we are today. Overdeveloped brains, larynxes capable of complex speech, bipedalism. Our hands. Our capacity for fine motor control, for heightened kinesthetic sensitivity in the pads of our fingers, grip with the opposable thumb. It can easily be argued that our hands are one of the core ways in which we as people can interact with the world around us.

Mine are covered. “I do want to. I hope I can.”

Peter smiles ever so slightly, and lets out a breath of relief. I didn’t even realise he was holding his breath. Tension leaves his frame, and he relaxes. Just how worried was he for me, exactly? Was it just as much as I was worried for him?

“Good, good. I’m glad,” he tilts his head slightly to meet my eyes. They’re looking into me, bittersweet. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…”

“It’s alright. Go on,” I encourage him.

Peter takes a sharp breath and looks around - I don’t think at anything in particular - and brings his hand to cup the side of his face, fingers twisting the hairs that frame it. Looking away, he asks, “Do you think you’ll ever be okay touching somebody else again?”

My body trembles at the thought — what if I can never take the gloves off? All I’ve been thinking for the last few days since leaving my parents was to cover, protect, shield. Of course, I covered myself up after that first attack. How could I even think to let myself be vulnerable to that kind of torment again?

It was like Hades himself had personally devised for me some tortuous punishment. I didn’t even know what I was being punished for. My heart is sinking at the realisation; this buffer between my skin and the external world wouldn't be my safety if it was for forever. It would be my own prison. The harrowing reality is that I have no idea if I can ever let myself escape it.

I blink slowly, swallowing, and try to hold the tears back. “I want… to be able to.”

The gloom in the air is blatant and palpable. Whatever Peter’s thinking, he’s giving me no indication whatsoever as to what it is that’s going on in his mind. “This might sound a little insane–” he hesitates, a flurry of anxiety in his eyes.

“No, say whatever it is you want to say. I’ll hear you out.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m just proposing this, so it’s totally fine if you don’t like the idea. Wouldn’t blame ya at all, no hard feelings. But, y’know - only if you want - whenever you think you’re ready to… take the gloves off? I don’t mind being your test subject. I can be your lab rat.”

Shock doesn’t begin to describe this. My heart catches a beat. My jaw slacks. My stomach twists. My eyes widen. The butterflies come back. I squash them down.

“Peter, I don’t think you understand what you’re offering to me,” I whisper.

Before I can make out his expression, he looks away. “It’s okay, if you don’t wanna. You don’t have to justify it.”

“No, no, it’s really not that. I’m honoured and so grateful that you’d even offer, but… I really don’t think you would if you understood what it meant,” I try to explain.

He nods, and I go on, “You’d be letting me into everything. I could see your whole life, know every thought you’ve ever had, feel every emotion you’ve ever felt. I could know everything there is to know about you. You don’t have to give me all of that. It’s not even about how we just met. No one should have to give me that, and I’ll never ask for it.”

“... Oh.”

“... Yeah. I don’t think you really want to be my ‘lab rat’.”

Peter presses his hand into his jaw, his forehead tenses and his eyes frantically dart around. He blows a puff of air out into his hand and it escapes with a hiss.

“Okay… do you wanna make a pact, then?” he eventually asks.

With much hesitance, I ask back, “What kind of a pact?”

“I try to stop hiding myself from everyone, you try to stop hiding your skin. I’ll already be trying to be real, authentic, right? Share myself with everyone and all? And… If I’m already doing that…” he trails off, beginning to himself. “Then maybe it won’t be so different if you actually touch me.”

For once, I truly don’t know what to say back. Peter cuts into the silence, “Shit, that’s not what I meant. You know that, right? I don’t mean touch me like tha–”

“Peter, I know that’s not what you meant,” I interject in his panic. God, it’s like looking into a mirror.

He stops talking, taking in my words. “Okay, uh– good. Good.”

Sighing, I say, “I don’t know, Peter, we barely know each other. I don’t want you to impulsively promise to let me in like that. If we were already really close - like childhood friends for years, or, I don’t know, if it wasn’t literally the first time we’d ever spoken to each other? Maybe things would be different. It’s not because I don’t like you or anything, honest to god. I just… You shouldn’t. You would stand to lose everything in this pact. I can’t do that to you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Peter rustles his hair, shoots me an oddly confident smirk for the context, and he shifts. Biting the inside of his cheek, he begins shuffling his way over to my side of the sofa. What in the actual fuck is happening?

Processing the sight of Peter edging closer and closer towards me feels… unreal. It’s as if I’m an audience member watching a scene play out before me on a screen. My heart is a furnace whose fires crackle raucously in my ears, head-splitting. There’s simply no possibility that I’m here on this plane of existence, at this moment in the temporal line. He’s dangerously close now – teetering on the line between the platonic and… something more.

I just know my face is red.

In a pace so slow it almost kills me, he slinks his arm behind me to rest on the back of the sofa. In a dulcet tone most incongruous with his demeanour, he softly asks, “Is this okay?”

Whether I nod or only tremble out of how flustered he’s getting me is almost unknowable. Taking in a breath, deep, so deep it nearly feels like I’m not breathing at all, I attempt to desperately cling onto whatever sanity is left within me. I give him a nod with more certainty.

“Cool, cool. Great, even,” Peter hums his approval. Leaning in impossibly closer, somehow taking care not to touch me, he whispers into my ear.

“So– we’ll just have to get to know each other better, then.”

══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══

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ancientseeker

1 year ago

Could you please write a story about how best friend reader somehow blips from the TASM!Peter’s universe into MCU!Peters universe and just about the reunion between the reader and TASM!Peter

Bonus points for angst if the reader and TASM!Peter had a fight before they blipped our

AN | This has been in my inbox for months but anon, I hope you see this, and I hope you enjoy it! And yes, I took some liberties with the Peters/timelines ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language, Nondescript mentions of Injury

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” you folded your arms across your chest as you glared at your best friend. The very same best friend that happened to be Peter Parker that also happened to be Spider-Man. The boy sighed as he hung his head, his face bruised and bloodied from a rough night.

“I think I’m being the normal amount of ridiculous,” his attempt to make a joke didn’t land well with you at all. You took the warm, wet washcloth that had been in your hand and tossed it at him. He caught it effortlessly and looked up at you with a pathetic little look on his face, “alright, I deserved that.”

“Peter,” the way you said his name was enough to make his heart constrict. He hated seeing you upset, but he hated knowing that he was the cause of your pain, “look at you. It’s almost four in the morning and you crawled in through my window, bleeding and clearly in pain. I know…fuck, I know you’re Spider-Man but I worry about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me-”

“Telling me that isn’t going to suddenly make me stop caring, Peter Benjamin Parker,” you sat down on the bed next to him, “I think that sometimes you take too many risks when you could play it safer.”

“I don’t…” he couldn’t even get the sentence out. He knew you were right and he knew that’d been even more reckless than normal lately. Peter wasn’t doing it out of anything really…he just wanted to get things and get his point across, “I guess you’re right.”

“I am right,” you whispered, gently taking the cloth back from him, reaching up and gently washing off the blood that had started to dry. The way he winced at even the lightest of touches caused you to frown again, “I love you, Pete. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t know if…”

You swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, blinking back the tears that were already stinging at the back of your eyes. Peter put his hand on top of your where it rested on his cheek, “nothing is going to happen to me. You’re stuck with me forever, sunshine.”

“Am I?” your voice dropped to a soft whispered, “am I stuck with you forever? Because sometimes I truly wonder about that. I don’t want you coming to me in the middle of the night hurt and upset, but I’d rather have that then nothing because the alternative is…much worse.”

“Yeah,” he missed your touch as soon as you pulled your hand back from him, “I know.”

“Promise me you’ll be more careful?” your voice shook as you willed him to look at you. You wanted him to look at you, wanted to see those big brown eyes looking back at you, “Pete…please.”

“I’ll try and be more careful,” he would barely look in your eyes and that served to break your heart even more, “but I can’t make promises that nothing’s ever going to happen again.”

“Just please don’t make all these sudden, rash decisions, Pete-”

“I can’t promise that will or won’t happen!” he didn’t mean to raise his voice and the way you flinched broke his heart, “you don’t know what it’s like out there! Sometimes you just have to do things…you can’t just think about them!”

You remained silent for a few long moments, before standing up and nodding slightly, “okay. Okay. Get out please, Peter.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I mean it Peter,” this time it was you that looked away and refused to meet his eyes, “get out. And if you keep acting like this, don’t come back.”

He looked at you in disbelief but when he saw that you weren’t joking, the reality of the situation hit him. He made a small sound before nodding and standing up. He stood there for a moment, both of you avoiding looking at each other, before he gently brushed past you and towards the window. He slid it open but before he could step all the way out he turned back, “I love you too, you know.”

He left without another word, leaving you there with your mind teeling. Had he really just said that and left?

Of course he had. This was Peter Parker after all. With the heaviest of sighs you flopped into bed, not even bothering to get under the covers as you willed sleep to claim you.

This night had turned out so entirely different from what you had imagined. Now you were afraid you’d lost him forever.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hoped that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Right? Right?

You woke up the next morning to sun streaming in through your window. You groaned as you rolled onto your other side to try and hang onto your sleepiness so you could get a little more shut eye. But luck wasn't having it, and you felt wide awake. With a groan you fumbled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom; you couldn't place it but something felt…off.

You couldn't shake the feeling all morning as you got ready for work. You checked your phone too many times for what was warranted and found nothing from Peter. You were half surprised but figured that you were pretty harsh on him last night and decided to give him some more space. You'd try him later if he hadn’t gotten back to you.

As you left your apartment for work, everything seemed slightly…different. Like there was some sort of lavender haze settling over everything. You tried to ignore it, rationalizing that you just weren't thinking straight.

When you got to your office, you received a few weird looks but no one really said anything. So, you settled into your office and got to work, ignoring the nagging feeling. The fact that you somehow couldn't remember your computer password or that everything in your office was just slightly different didn't register.

What did, however, was that Peter hadn't contacted you. So, during your lunch you decided to call him and apologize. If he was willing to listen anyway. You didn't actually want to lose him, you did, however, want him to stay safe and sound.

Midway through the day you grabbed your phone and called him, waiting either bated breath for him to answer. It rang and rang and when you thought it would be kicked over to voice-mail, it was answered.

"Hello?" It was a voice that was most decidedly not Peter. This one sounded…younger? Different? Something.

"Hi, umm, can I talk to Peter?" Maybe one of his coworkers had answered the phone for him.

"Well, you're talking to him, so…" he sounded confused as your brows knitted together, "w-who is this?"

"This isn't funny," your eyes were tearing up as you tried to figure out what kind of joke this was, "please just put on Peter. I-I need to talk to him, it's important."

"This is Peter-"

"Peter Parker."

"This is Peter Parker," you wanted to be mad but the voice on the other end of the line wasn't laughing. Nor did he sound even remotely amused, "I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on but…maybe you have the wrong number?"

You hung up without another word, mind racing as you tried to put all the pieces together. Who had Peter's phone? And why?

What was going on?

The rest of the day went by in a blur, as your mind wandered and wandered through a million possibilities of what was going on with Peter. You came to the only logical explanation you could think of - you would simply go by his place to see what was going on.

As soon as you were done, you almost ran out and to his apartment. The concerned looks you were getting from passersby didn't phase you. All you could think of was Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter.

You knocked on his door, looking around the hall and noticing that a lot of people had made some changes to their places and there were new plants. You listened for his familiar footsteps but after a few moments when you didn't hear anything, you knocked again, this time with more vigor.

This door was wrenched open after a few moments and you found yourself face to face with a young man with wide brown eyes and curious expression etched onto his features.

"Hello?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion, "can I help you?"

"Peter - where's Peter?" You tried to look past him but realized you had no clue who this kid was. Peter was your best friend, you knew his other friends too, "and who are you?"

"Umm…" he looked behind you before turning around and studying his own space. The boy grimaced before exhaling slowly, "I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

"I…I don't understand," you shook your head, rubbing at your tired face in exasperation, "is this supposed to be a joke? Is he in on it?"

"There's - no. Here," he reached into his pocket and fished out his ID and handed it to you. A gasp escaped your lips as you studied. He was Peter Parker and his home address was listed the same as the real Peter, "I don't know what happened with the mix up but-

"Spider-Man," you breathed out softly and a look of shock crossed his features, "how did…how?"

"Peter - my Peter - he's Spider-Man," your mind was reeling as you tried to put all the pieces together, "he has the same phone number and this is his address."

"Wait…" his brows knitted together, "what's your name?"

You told him your name and let out a bit of incredulous laughter, "I know you. Well, umm…I-I guess a version of you. Or whatever this is you. My aunt works with you."

"May? May Parker?" You asked and he nodded with a sheepish shrug. Your May was definitely not going to be the same person, you knew that much. You exhaled slowly, "this is so weird. I don't know what or how or why or anything but I don't think I belong here. You're not…my Peter."

"No," he shook his head and motioned for you to come inside. You stepped into the familiar, yet completely new, apartment and looked around, "is everything okay with him? Your Peter? Are you....?”

“He’s my best friend,” you looked around at all the photos that lined the walls. There were plenty of Peter along with what you assumed were his friends and aunt. Definitely not your May, “at least we were. We kind of got into a fight last night and I basically told him to get out.”

“Oh,” he watched you curiously, “I’ve gotten into a few of those arguments before.”

“You mean the ones where someone gets mad at you for being reckless and asks you to be careful but you claim its part of the job but you’ll try your best?” you asked and Peter nodded in amusement. Part of the job, you supposed. You ran a hand through your hair, “He kept getting hurt and its been getting worse lately and I just…I want him to be careful, you know? He keeps coming through my window, bleeding and bruised, and I’m afraid one day that he’s just not going to be there. He’s not going to come home to me. And I-I can’t lose him. He is…everything to me.”

A mixture of emotions colored his features as you offered him a small, sad little smile, “you’re in love with him.”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t even pretend to lie about it, “I am. I have been for a long time. I’ve just never told him. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I don’t think you have to tell him,” he offered you a lopsided little smile before tilting his head to one of the pictures on the wall. It was of him and a beautiful girl, both of them beaming at the camera, “not if it’s anything like that.”

“I don’t know,” you’d always wondered if he knew or felt the same. You had no idea and now you were afraid that you might never find out, “but what if I…how do I even get back? What am I doing here?”

“I don’t know how it all works,” he confessed and while you knew that it wasn’t his fault at all, you couldn’t help your sigh, “it’s confusing to me at times too. But there’s a whole…multiverse…theory and all that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, “all that wild, sciencey stuff. Pete is the science brain…just like you I presume. I’m the…not science person. It all gets kind of lost on me. I just don’t know what to do now.”

“Maybe we can figure it out,” he suggested and you couldn’t help but admit that the kid was growing on you. He seemed sincere and kind…he did remind you of your Peter in a lot of ways, “just give me some time to think, okay?”

“Thank you,” you reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze, “you’re very kind. In the meantime I guess I’ll just try and keep calm and all that.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked softly, “do you want to stay here?”

“I’ll go back to my…well, this world’s anyway, apartment,” you hadn’t seen anyone else, namely the alternate universe you, in the apartment or anywhere at your work. You figured you’d probably replaced her…or yourself or whatever it was, “I guess I’ll see you around? You have my number now if you think of anything.”

“I will,” he promised, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow and we can figure out something. If you need anything or anything seems off, please call or text me.”

“Sounds good,” you headed towards the door and gave him a small smile, “thank you, Peter. It seems like in every universe you’re a good guy.”

“But we’ll get you back to your Peter. Promise,” he held up his hand with his outstretched pinkie and you couldn’t help but laugh at his silliness. You hooked your pinkie around his and nodded.

You had some hope that whatever happened would be fixed.

Then you’d go back to Peter and finally tell him how you felt. You had to - you knew you did.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed without much happening. You spent the time you could with Peter and his friend Ned trying to go through all the possible things that could have happened. You kept rehashing each moment in your mind, going through it all over and over again until you felt like you no longer knew what had actually happened.

The worst part of all was that none of you could figure out exactly what happened or why you were suddenly there instead of your own home. The only thing it did was cause your hope to slowly dwindle away - what if you were stuck there forever? What if you never saw Peter again? That would have been the worst thing of all. The boys did help though and kept reassuring you that things would be alright. You hoped they were right.

After a week, you started to accept that you weren’t going anywhere. At least, you reasoned with yourself, you weren’t stuck in some weird universe that was completely different from what you knew.

Things were starting to seem normal, until late one evening while you were watching a movie and you heard a loud, frantic knocking at the door.

“Hold on, hold on,” you set your ice cream down and padded towards the door. Perhaps it was a neighbor you hadn’t met before or maybe someone had the wrong address; either way, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. You opened the door without even thinking about checking to see who it was, “hello?”

“Hi,” your mouth opened and closed a few times as you looked at the man standing across the threshold. Peter Parker. But not just any Peter Parker, it was your Peter.

“Peter?” you almost whispered his name and he nodded at you, confused for just a moment. Without thinking about it, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you without missing a beat as he hugged you back just as fiercely, “Peter!”

“Sunshine,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you pulled back and took his face in your hands, looking him over. It was still the same man you loved and adored, the bruises and scratches from the last time you’d seen him almost completely gone, “I…I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“You didn’t really think one little argument was going to keep me away, did you?” he wrapped his fingers around your wrists, looking at you softly, “I thought that maybe you didn’t want to see me. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“I…” he had no clue. He had no idea that you’d been gone for over a week, “how long was I avoiding you?”

“Like…ten days, not that I’ve been counting or anything,” he admitted sheepishly, cheeks pinking, “this was kind of my last ditch attempt to apologize and to tell you that -”

“I’m in love with you,” you couldn't help yourself - you just had to get it out. His big, brown eyes softened and he seemed to lose his voice for a moment. You nervously smiled at him, “Peter Parker. My Peter.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, heart eyed with a lovesick smile on his face, “I’m yours.”

This time he surprised you by pulling you in and kissing you. His actions caught you so off guard that it took you a moment to respond. When you did, you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back with just as much hunger and neediness. Neither of you wanted to stop, reluctantly pulling apart when you needed air.

“I’m, ugh, in love with you too,” he pressed his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help but steal a few more kisses from him, “have you been okay? I was getting worried when you didn’t call or text back. No one had seen you either.”

“I’ve got so much to tell you,” you reached for his hand and pulled him inside, “so much.”

“Wait - did something happen?” he looked you over, relieved to see that you didn’t appear to be in any sort of pain or harm, “sunshine?”

“I haven’t been gone,” you weren’t even sure where to begin with this one, “well, not really. I was with Peter Parker.”

“Umm….not sure where I was, but I don’t remember…”

“I don’t expect you to - but you’ll understand,” you looked at him with wide eyes, “because while it was Peter Parker - it wasn’t you. A-and Aunt May was different too.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he grew excited as he quickly caught up on what you were saying - he was a practical genius after all, “are you saying that…”

“Multiverse,” you finished for him, “it’s all true - I think. Some of it anyway.”

“Holy shit.”

“I have so much to tell you,” you grinned, “and, ugh, thank you for not immediately assuming I was crazy.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ve heard and experienced stranger things. Tell me more.”

“I will,” you promised, dragging him over to the couch before stopping yourself, “wait - there’s something else I want to do first.”

“What is it-”

And then you were kissing him again and he immediately melted into your touch.

“Oh,” he sighed softly, “I could get used to that.”

“Good,” you beamed at him and things suddenly felt right again the world, “me too.”

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ancientseeker

11 months ago

Rewatching Scream for the nth time today and I cannot get over how fucking unhinged and chaotic the entire movie is.

Like don't get me wrong, I fucking love this movie and it's a fantastic commentary on horror movies and stereotypes within slasher fics. But it's also such a good commentary on how inept teen boys are as slashers and how useless the police force is in these movies.

I cannot take any of the chase scenes seriously because of the amount of times Billy & Stu fall over or get hit by things. Like... They're so bad at staying on their feet. I feel like I need to count the amount of times they fall over in this damned movie because it's low-key slapstick. And Dewey... Oh my god, the scream when he's holding the mask and Sid scares him by opening the door, it cracks me up every time. Not to mention Randy "EVERYBODY'S A SUSPECT" Meeks, the hyperfixation special interest is so real, so many of his lines are so damn quotable. The satire in this movie is on point.

Anyway, not a new opinion, I know, but the whole cast and crew are genuises for creating this masterpiece. End rant. Also... The sound track to this movie... *Chefs kiss"

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ancientseeker

2 weeks ago

HAPPY BDAY ODXNY 07/17 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

and ty for all the odxny fanart since release! The artist ( @saffein-e ) decided to use some of it as a celebration. Here is where you can find those pieces tacked on odxny's wall:

https://x.com/sanfangzhu58831/status/1795085888759697582

https://x.com/sintaabug/status/1792423066032574653

https://x.com/_minthe_draws/status/1792126187160096969

https://x.com/azul_hamlet/media

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ancientseeker

1 year ago

crush (peter parker)

summary: peter has been visiting you as spider-man long enough to develop a crush on you. the problem? you have a crush on somebody else.

notes: u guys…i love peter parker so much okay!!! also this is a short fic bc i have a longer one in the works. yes i realize this is 4k words but like, that’s short for me ok bye happy reading!

warnings: typos, probably.

Peter Parker sat on the ledge of your fire escape, careful to avoid the patches of snow from the previous day. It had been a long night of patrolling and his lower back ached to no end. The familiar space spread warmth to Peter’s chest as he attempted to collect his breath, the inside of his suit scratching against his skin.

It had been dark out for a few hours. Peter knew that May would be going to sleep in an hour, leaving the perfect opportunity for him to slip back into his bedroom undetected. He had lied to her earlier, saying that he’d be studying with a group of friends he had made at university earlier that semester. But he had other places he needed to be.

He would be lying if he said his only reason for patrolling was to keep his city out of danger. While that was a big motivation for him to put his suit on, the other reason was because he wanted to see you.

Keep reading

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ancientseeker

3 years ago

Hello seekers!

I am really happy about the good feedback I already slowly started to recieve on my work, and I can't help but notice that I've already got some asks too.

I have to tell you guys something. I might have to take my time writing them, for a dear friend of mine died of cancer and today is the funeral. Please, forgive me. I'll try to get them done within two weeks, but if I can't, please, anon seekers, forgive me.

@thelasthargreeves

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ancientseeker

1 year ago

✨ EVAN PETERS ICONS/HEADERS ✨

• TATE LANGDON

• images can be adjusted to be used as icon or header

like if use/save