Call me Lexy. It's a pseudonym, I prefer to keep my real name off social media.
I primarily write about TASM’s Peter Parker, but I’m totally open to other versions of Peter Parker too!
I am a minor, so I am not accepting any offers for beta reading at this time. 🙏🏻
I don’t write smut, and I don't plan on doing so in the future.
I love writing dark, fluff, and angst, but I’m open to any genre. As long as it’s not smut.
You'll find all my works categorised here. Enjoy reading!
TASM Peter Parker x reader
“Well, if that’s what you want to call it…”
Summary: The quiet nerdy kid at school is showing a little too much… "interest" in you.
"Ah ah ah, no naughtiness."
Summary: You wake up in a dark place, completely unknown to you.
“I hate you…”
Summary: Your boyfriend has been acting strange lately.
Chains and Shadows
Summary: You wake up tied to a chair in a creepy basement. (req)
Dating TASM Peter Parker Headcanons
Summary: You're dating him.
Across the Hall
Summary: Moving into a new apartment brings unexpected encounters that change everything.
By Your Side
Summary: Just when you think everything is over, maybe everything has only just begun.
Valentine’s Day with TASM Peter Parker Headcanons
Summary: Valentine's day with him.
Photographer
Summary: Peter Parker has always been your best friend, the one you trust the most. So when a stranger starts sending you secret photographs and anonymous messages, Peter is the last person you’d ever suspect. After all… who would?
Kitchen Chaos
Summary: Baking cookies with Peter Parker turns into playful chaos and unexpected moments.
Happier
Summary: Six months after a painful breakup, Peter is still trying to move on. Some choices are meant to protect the ones we love, but they don’t always feel right.
TASM Peter Parker as a Dad Headcanons
Summary: What sort of father would he be?
Parker Problems
Summary: Peter Parker once again drags you into one of his problems.
A Face You Knew
Summary: Sometimes, the past finds you when you least expect it.
Soft Yandere Peter Parker Headcanons
Summary: What kind of yandere would he be?
MCU Peter Parker x reader
Dating MCU Peter Parker Headcanons
Summary: You're dating him.
Five More Minutes
Summary: A sleepy morning with Peter Parker.
MCU Peter Parker as a Dad Headcanons
Summary: What sort of father would he be?
Role Reversal
Summary: For once, Peter isn't the one getting patched up.
Half the Truth
Summary: A single overheard conversation turns Peter and Y/n's friendship upside down through one painful misunderstanding.
Trapped In The Dark
Summary: A superhero side-quest with Peter Parker goes wrong, leaving you trapped together in the dark as an unknown danger approaches.
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That was all you managed to hiss, glaring daggers through the oppressive, dust-choked dark.
Peter had done it again. One minute you were just trying to survive your normal, already-chaotic week, and the next, he’d dragged you headfirst into another one of his "simple, five-minute" superhero side-quests. Now, here you were: crammed into a suffocating, pitch-black space, surrounded by cold, corrugated metal, in God-knows-what, in God-knows-where. Good job, Pete. Really outdid yourself this time.
Peter winced, wiping a streak of grime across his nose, only succeeding in smearing it further. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, his web-shooters glinting weakly in the faint, flickering amber light filtering through a crack in the wall.
"I know it's... not looking great," Peter started, his voice pitching up that extra octave it always hit whenever he was secretly sweating bricks. "But it's not as bad as you thi-"
"PETER. BENJAMIN. FUCKING. PARKER. ARE YOU AWARE OF THE SERIOUSNESS OF THE SITUATION WE'RE IN?"
You whisper-shouted, grabbing him by the collar of his suit and yanking him down to eye level. Your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
"We are trapped in an underground facility! Or a shipping container, or a supervillain's cellar, we don't even know! My phone has got zero signal, I'm pretty sure I just stepped on something squelchy, and if I miss my alarm tomorrow morning, my life is literally over! So no, do not tell me it's fine!"
Peter sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your very justified panic. He held up his hands, his hazel eyes wide with a mix of genuine apology and classic Parker guilt.
"Righ- Right, fair enough!" he whispered back hurriedly, wincing at the harshness of your tone. "It's bad! It's proper bad! I've messed up! But... it's still..."
BANG.
A deafening metallic shudder echoed right behind his head, rattling the floor beneath your feet and sending a shower of rust and dust down into your hair. The sound reverberated in your teeth.
Peter slowly winced, closing his eyes tightly as heavy, ominous footsteps began to echo on the other side of the wall.
"...fixable?" he offered weakly, giving you a strained, pleading smile. "Mostly fixable?"
Summary: A single overheard conversation turns Peter and Y/n's friendship upside down through one painful misunderstanding.
Warnings: Miscommunication/misunderstanding, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, crying and emotional distress, hurt/comfort, fluff, canon-typical mentions of Spider-Man injuries and exhaustion, writer's block.
Word count: 4,196
Note: English isn't my first language, so sorry in advance for any mistakes.
My Masterlist
The sun was lighting the Parker flat in Queens.
Peter Parker only had 15 minutes before Aunt May came bustling in to wake him up or his screeching phone alarm went off. Whichever came first.
He silently and slowly opened his eyes, wincing as a dull throb pulsed behind his temples. God, they were hurting. It was entirely understandable, after having spent the entire night being swung all over the city by his webbing.
He groaned softly into the quiet morning air before kicking the duvet off his legs. He sat on the edge of his mattress for a few minutes, staring blankly at the floorboards. He slowly stood up.
It had been a long night. Scratch that, it had been a long week. To be honest, it felt like every criminal waited for this exact week to wreak havoc. Muggings, car chases, warehouse heists... you name it, Peter had stopped it. And Peter was EXHAUSTED. He felt like he could die from tiredness right there. But despite the bags under his eyes and the bruised ribs hidden beneath his hoodie, he had to get ready for school. Great. Actually, just brilliant.
After a whirlwind 10 minutes of pulling on a crumpled hoodie, wolfing down a piece of slightly burnt toast Aunt May shoved into his hand, and running flat-out to catch the Underground, Peter made it.
The heavy glass front doors of Midtown High swung open, slammed lockers were making Peter’s Spider-Sense prickle, and the corridors were crammed with teenagers navigating the morning rush hour of gossip, last-minute homework copying, and sleepy groans.
He checked his phone. 8:14 AM. One minute left before the first bell rang.
He walked down the familiar corridor and turned sharply towards the first-period Chemistry class. He flung open the door, and the air conditioning blasted into his face like a refreshing stream of cold water.
And then, right in the second row, sitting at the usual lab desk with an open notebook and a perfectly arranged row of pens, he saw you.
Suddenly, the ache in his ribs didn't feel quite so bad. The heavy bags under his eyes felt a little less heavy. Peter forced his face into what he hoped was a casual smile.
He slid onto the stool right beside you, letting his rucksack fall to the floor with a dull, heavy thud that betrayed just how much heavy metal gear was hidden deep in its bottom pocket.
"Hey," Peter murmured, leaning his elbow onto the desk and resting his chin in his hand, looking at you with tired but ridiculously fond eyes. "Tell me we aren't doing a pop quiz today. Please."
You looked up from your notebook and Peter was sure he'd have a heart attack when your eyes met his.
You smiled at him. "No, you're lucky today, Petey," you said, the last word delivered with a teasing tone. And oh, Peter loved your teasing tone. And your speaking tone. Okay, everything about you, to be honest. But to be fair, you weren't making it any easier. Like, how could a human being in the world look bloody brilliant all the time?
He realised he was staring at you with a stupid smile on his face for a few moments and he faked a cough. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he must have looked like a freak at that moment.
"Peter? Uhm... Y'alright?" you said worriedly, a slight frown on your face while you were looking at him.
He faked a cough again. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. I'm completely alright. I'm just... a little bit knackered, y'know? Life has been a little... no actually it has been extremely exhausting lately." Well, it wasn't actually the truth, but it wasn't actually a lie either. He changed the subject. "And you're a lifesaver, Y/n. Seriously. I'll buy you a coffee. Or a bagel. Or my soul. Whatever you want."
"I'll hold you to the bagel," you chuckled, watching as he tried (and failed) to suppress a massive yawn.
"Did you even sleep last night?" You frowned again. "You look like you've been run over by an Underground train."
Oh, if only you knew... he thought with a dry, internal laugh. Remembering the runaway train he had to stop at 2:00 AM.
"Stark Internship," he mumbled, letting his head drop heavily onto his folded arms against the desk. His voice came out muffled by the fleece of his hoodie. "Huge project. Lots of... dead-end research. Broke a few things. Rebuilt a few things. You know how it is."
"Right. The mysterious 'internship' stuff again," you murmured softly. "You know, one of these days, Parker, you're actually going to have to give me details. I'm starting to think this 'internship' is just an excuse for you to sleep through my favourite class."
Peter lifted his head an inch, resting his chin on his crossed arms to look up at you. His brown eyes were bright, tracing every detail of your face as you spoke. Hearing you call it your favourite class brought a tiny, crooked smile back to his lips.
"Someday," he whispered softly, his voice dropping the playful banter for a brief, incredibly genuine second. "I promise. I'll tell you everything. Just... not today."
Before you could press him on it, the morning bell echoed through the room.
Mr Harrington entered the laboratory. "Alright, alright, settle down, class!" the teacher called out, clapping his hands together. "Open your exercise books! We have a lot of ground to cover before midterms!"
---
The afternoon sun was starting to dip behind the Queens skyline. School had been over for five minutes, and students were leaving the building.
You were walking towards the exit, too, until you heard two familiar voices speaking in hushed, urgent tones in an empty classroom. Ned and Peter.
You were about to step in there and wave, maybe tease Peter about surviving the rest of the day, when Ned’s voice made you freeze in your tracks.
"Mate, you have to be careful," Ned was saying, his voice laced with genuine panic. "If this gets out, it ruins everything. You're completely obsessed with them!"
"I know, Ned, okay? I know!" Peter’s voice sounded stressed and overwhelmed. "I can't help it. Every time I look at them, my brain just stops working! I spent half the night up late thinking about them while..." He looked around him, and you took a few steps back so you couldn't hear what he said.
A few moments later, you got closer to the door again. "Peter, you're losing your mind," Ned hissed quietly. "Does Aunt May know? Does anyone else know?"
"No! Are you mad? Nobody can know!" Peter lowered his voice to an agonizing whisper. Every word hit you like a physical punch. "It's complicated, Ned. They're just... perfect. Brilliant, beautiful, impossible to ignore... I literally fall a little more in love every single second I'm around them. But I can't just say it. What if they don't feel the same way? What if I ruin everything we have?"
Ned sighed heavy and deep. "Man... you've got it so bad. You're proper hooked."
"I am," Peter admitted softly, his tone dripping with a helpless, quiet devotion that made your heart ache. "I'm completely, totally in love. But until I know for sure... it has to stay a secret."
You felt your heart breaking in your chest.
Someone else.
There was someone else. All those soft looks... the tired smile he gave you every morning... was just... Peter being Peter. Friendly. Sweet.
His heart belonged to someone else. Someone brilliant. Someone who kept him up all night.
You ran away from there as quietly and quickly as you could, your trainers making zero sound on the linoleum floor. You clutched your rucksack straps until your knuckles turned white, forcing yourself to breathe past the sudden, sharp sting behind your eyes.
Completely unaware that around the bend, Ned was currently shaking his head at a bright red, stammering Peter.
"Mate," Ned muttered, slapping Peter's shoulder. "You're talking about Y/n like they're a literal superhero. Just ask Y/n out already."
"I can't!" Peter groaned, burying his burning face in his hands. "What if Y/n says no?!"
You sat cross-legged in the centre of your bed, your knees pulled tightly to your chest.
Every word of that conversation kept replaying in your mind on an endless, agonizing loop.
“You're completely obsessed with them!”
“I can't help it. Every time I look at them, my brain just stops working!”
“I literally fall a little more in love every single second I'm around them.”
You buried your face in your knees, a quiet, frustrated sob catching in your throat. It all made a painful kind of sense now. You had foolishly convinced yourself that the way he looked at you meant something special.
Turns out, he was just a guy with a massive, secret crush.
Just... not on you.
He had spent half the night thinking about her. Staying up late, losing his mind, agonizing over whether she felt the same way, while you sat in Chemistry sharing bagels and trading sarcastic banter, thinking you were the centre of his world. You weren't the muse. You were just the safe, friendly classmate he vented to when he wasn't busy drowning in his feelings for someone else.
“So that was what he was mentioning in the lab,” you whispered bitterly into the fabric of your jeans.
The exhaustion that wasn't just from his mysterious Stark internship, but from a heart beating wildly out of control for a girl who didn't even know he cared.
A sharp buzz from your phone on the mattress startled you.
You flinched, staring at the lit-up screen as if it were a venomous spider.
[Text from: Petey 🧪]
Hey! You left pretty fast after the bell. Everything okay? Also... about that bagel I promised you, is tomorrow still good? Let me know!
Your chest tightened until it physically ached. A fresh wave of heat pricked behind your eyelids. He was being sweet. He was always sweet. He was so naturally affectionate, so deeply caring, that it was impossible to tell where friendship ended and his secret devotion to her began.
You wanted to type out something angry. But you couldn't. You had no right. Who were you to him? You were just his lab partner.
Instead, you locked your phone, letting the screen fade to black.
He stared down at the glowing screen of his phone, his thumb hovering over the conversation thread as the screen timed out and went dark. He tapped it again. Still no read receipts, no typing bubble, no answer.
Peter’s brow furrowed. That wasn't like you at all. Usually, you were quick to respond. But today? You were acting weird. You didn't even wait for him after the last bell.
"She hasn't texted back?" Ned asked, leaning over the back of Peter’s sofa with a half-eaten bag of crisps in hand.
"No," Peter groaned, staring up at his ceiling. "Nothing. Zip. She definitely saw it, Ned. I know she saw it. What if she’s ignoring me? Did I say something weird in Chemistry? Was my breathing too loud? Did I smell like burnt toast?"
"Mate, relax," Ned said, rolling his eyes as he chewed. "You were running on two hours of sleep and looking like a zombie. Maybe Y/n just... had somewhere to be. Or maybe your texting vibes were off."
"My 'texting vibes' were perfectly fine!" Peter sat up abruptly, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "I offered a bagel! Everyone loves bagels!"
He looked down at his phone again, his chest tightening with a sudden unease. It wasn't his spider-sense, but his heart felt heavy. He couldn't shake the memory of the way you'd looked in class: so close, so bright, so completely out of his league.
And now, there was a strange distance between you that hadn't been there hours ago.
"I have to check on them," Peter muttered, already reaching for his hoodie on the floor.
"Wait, right now?" Ned blinked. "Peter, it's six o'clock. Are you gonna go over there as Peter or... as Peter-in-a-mask?"
"As Peter!" He slipped his phone into his pocket. "I'm just gonna walk by. Drop off a bagel. Or- or just see if everything's okay."
"You-" Ned was about to say something before Peter cut him off.
"Shut up, Ned. I'm going."
Twenty minutes later, Peter was standing in front of your flat. He had looked up at your window before entering the building. The light was on.
He knocked on your door, a hesitant and quiet three-count rhythmic knock that you’d know anywhere, before his anxiety could talk him out of it...
"Y/n?" he called out softly through the door, his voice laced with genuine concern. "It's... it's Petey. Are you okay? You kinda disappeared after school, and... well, I was just worrying about you."
Inside the flat, silence hung thick in the air. Peter leaned his ear slightly closer to the door, his enhanced hearing easily picking up the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing on the other side. And the faint, unmistakable sound of a sniffle.
His heart instantly plummeted to his stomach.
"Y/n?" Peter’s tone dropped all hesitation, instantly replaced by worry. "Are you crying? Did something happen? Please, open the door."
"Y/n? Are you crying? Did something happen? Please, open the door." Peter's voice echoed in the living room.
You answered his question in your head, but you didn't even move a little bit.
Yes, I am crying.
Yes, something happened. But I can't say that to you because if I do, our friendship will be over.
No, I won't open that door until you go back to your flat. Even if I know that you know I am inside and ignoring you.
"Y/n, please, talk to me. Are you okay?" He knocked again.
You finally sniffed and stood up. You gave yourself a few minutes before walking towards the door.
You took a deep breath before answering. "Yes, Peter. I'm alright. I'm just having a terrible headache. I wanna sleep. Please go back to your flat."
Who were you to be angry at him?
Peter didn't believe you for even a second. He rested his forehead against the door.
"You know, Y/n, I am bad at chemistry and I know you're smarter than me, but I'm not that dumb," he said in a gentle tone. "I am smart enough to know headaches don't sound like that."
After a five-minute-long silence, he started talking again.
"If you want me to leave, I will. But not like this. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, just let me come inside."
You took a long breath again before answering after a few seconds. "Peter, I'm alright, just exhausted. It's been a long and... weird day." You gulped. "Just... go home, we will talk about this later."
Peter winced at the heavy, final tone in your voice. He looked at the brown paper bag in his hand. The warm, slightly smashed bagel he'd practically sprinted three blocks to buy.
He knew he should turn around, walk down the stairs, and give you space. But the thought of leaving you alone in the dark, crying over something he couldn't protect you from, felt ten times worse than taking a punch from a supervillain.
"Okay," Peter said quietly, his voice laced with defeat. "Okay. I'm going."
You heard his footsteps slide backward, heard him take a shaky breath.
"I'm leaving a bagel on the floor by the handle," he added, trying for a chuckle that completely fell flat. "It's, uh... everything bagel. Extra cream cheese. The kind you like. Just... eat something, okay? Even if you hate me right now."
Silence stretched between you.
"I don't hate you," you whispered to the door, barely loud enough for a normal human to hear.
But Peter wasn't normal. His breath hitched.
"Then why won't you let me in?" he asked, the absolute raw vulnerability in his voice stopping you dead in your tracks. "Did I... did I do something wrong, Y/n? Did I say something stupid in class? Did I push too hard about the internship stuff? Just tell me. Please. Whatever it is, I'll fix it. I promise I'll fix it."
The utter desperation in his tone tore right through the angry, protective wall you had built up over the last two hours. It wasn't fair. He was sitting out there acting like he was the one who had made a mistake, completely unaware of the knife he’d shoved into your chest after school.
Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached out and unlatched the deadbolt.
The click echoed loudly in the quiet hallway.
Peter froze. Slowly, the door swung inward.
You were standing there in your oversized sweatshirt, eyes red-rimmed and nose flushed, looking fragile in a way Peter had never seen before.
Peter’s eyes widened, his chest aching at the sight of you. Without thinking, he took a step forward, his hands coming up instinctively as if he wanted to reach out, pull you into his arms, and shield you from the rest of the world. But he caught himself at the last second, letting his arms drop awkwardly to his sides.
"Y/n..." he breathed out, his brown eyes overflowing with concern. "Hey."
"You're an idiot, Peter Parker," you said, your voice thick with unshed tears, though there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion.
Peter blinked, taken aback, but he accepted the insult without hesitation. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I get that a lot. But... why am I an idiot this time?"
You looked down at his socked feet, then at the brown paper bag he was clutching tightly in his hand like a lifeline, and finally up into his wide, honest eyes.
"Because you're so damn sweet," you sobbed softly, wiping your cheek with the sleeve of your jumper. "You bring me bagels, you look at me like I'm the only person in the room, you promise to tell me your secrets... and the whole time, you're literally losing your mind over someone else."
Peter stopped breathing. The hallway seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.
"What?" he squeaked, his voice cracking violently.
"I heard you," you confessed, the words spilling out of you in a rushed, painful stream before you could lose your nerve. "After school. In the chemistry room. I was coming to see if you wanted to walk out together, and... you and Ned were talking."
Peter’s brain completely short-circuited. The empty classroom.
"You... you overheard us?" Peter stammered, his face instantly draining of all colour, only to flush a violent, burning crimson a second later.
"I heard enough," you snapped quietly, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. "I heard you telling Ned how you stay up all night thinking about her. How she's perfect, brilliant, and beautiful. How you fall more in love with her every second you're around her! And how you're terrified to tell her because you don't want to ruin everything!"
Fresh tears spilled over your lashes, blurring your vision.
"I felt like such a fool, Peter," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I actually thought... I thought maybe all those looks you give me meant something. But you were just being friendly. You were just stressing out over some perfect girl while I was sitting next to you dreaming up things that aren't real."
Peter stood entirely frozen, his mouth slightly open, processing your words.
He listened to you describe the 'secret girl.' He listened to you call yourself a fool. He listened to you tear your own heart apart over a conversation that had been entirely, utterly, 100% about you.
Slowly, the terror in Peter’s eyes melted away, replaced by a wave of shock, followed immediately by an overwhelming, helpless wave of tenderness.
"Y/n..." Peter began softly, stepping across the threshold and closing the door behind him with a quiet snap. He set the paper bag down on your entryway table, never taking his eyes off you.
"Don't," you begged, taking a step back into your living room. "Please don't pity me, Petey. Just... go. I just needed to say it so I could move on."
"Y/n, look at me," Peter said, his voice quiet, steady, and incredibly firm.
You blinked through your tears, refusing to raise your head.
He didn't force you. Instead, he took two slow, careful steps until he was standing right in front of you. He reached out, his warm, slightly calloused fingers hovering for a fraction of a second before gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly brushing away a stray tear on your cheek.
Your breath hitched at the touch.
"You didn't hear the end of the conversation," Peter whispered, his thumb still tracing your cheekbone, his touch so unbelievably tender it made your knees feel weak.
"What?" you breathed.
"You ran away before Ned finished talking," Peter said, a tiny, nervous, trembling smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "If you had stayed... five more seconds... you would have heard Ned tell me to stop acting like a coward and just ask you out."
You blinked, the world tilting slightly on its axis. "What?"
"The girl," Peter murmured, his brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse skyrocket. "The girl who keeps me up all night. The girl who makes my brain stop working every time she smiles at me in Chemistry. The girl who is brilliant, and beautiful, and completely impossible to ignore..."
He leaned down just an inch, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes searching yours with pure, unfiltered adoration.
"It's you, Y/n. It's always been you."
Did you hear that right? Or was your tired brain playing tricks on you after a long, agonizing evening?
"Me?" you managed to choke out, your voice barely a squeak.
"Yes, you, you dork," Peter laughed, a sound that was half-sob and half-relief. He brought his other hand up to gently frame your face, his fingers threading into your hair.
"Who else could it possibly be? You think I buy bagels for just anyone? You think I suffer through Mr Harrington’s lectures running on zero sleep just to sit next to anybody?"
"But... Ned said you were obsessed," you stammered, your hands coming up instinctively to grip the wrists resting against your cheeks, desperately needing something to ground you.
"I am obsessed!" Peter admitted freely, his cheeks burning red, though he didn't look away this time. "I am completely, undeniably, embarrassingly in love with you, Y/n. I've been in love with you for months. I was just... I was terrified. You're so smart, and so incredible, and I'm just... Peter. I didn't want to ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way."
You stared at him, taking in the faint bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the honest, desperate warmth radiating from him. The heavy knot of pain that had been twisting in your chest for hours suddenly unravelled, leaving behind a sudden, sweeping rush of warmth.
A small, watery laugh escaped your lips.
Peter’s eyes lit up at the sound. "Are you... are you laughing at me?"
"No," you smiled, wiping away the last of your tears as a real, genuine grin spread across your face. "I'm laughing because we are both absolute idiots."
"Hey, I already agreed to being an idiot," Peter grinned, his shoulders visibly dropping all the tension he’d been carrying since he knocked on your door. "Does this mean... you don't hate me?"
"I could never hate you, Petey," you whispered.
Before he could process the words, you leaned up on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder.
Peter let out a soft breath, his arms immediately wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He held you like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world, burying his face in your hair and inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of your shampoo.
"So," Peter murmured into your hair, his arms tightening around you just a little bit more. "About that bagel..."
You pulled back just enough to look at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Is it still warm?"
"Probably a little squished," Peter admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while keeping the other firmly rested on your waist. "But I promise it was bought with pure, unadulterated affection."
"Good," you murmured, leaning in and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his warm cheek.
Peter instantly froze, his eyes going wide, a deep blush spreading from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. His heart tapped out a frantic, wild rhythm against his ribs. A rhythm you could feel clearly where your hand rested on his chest.
"Okay," Peter squeaked, his voice cracking again. "Okay, wow. Yeah. Best bagel ever."
You laughed, pulling him by the sleeve into your flat and shutting the door on the cold corridor for good.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
He's overwhelmingly gentle. Smotheringly so. Your comfort is his highest priority. He brings you your favourite meals (or cooks them himself), makes sure you've eaten, fixes your belongings, and does everything he can to make your life as comfortable as possible.
Because of his Spider-Man abilities, he's painfully aware of how strong he is. As a result, he treats you as though you're incredibly delicate—as if you're made of glass.
B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
He avoids violence whenever possible, but if you're genuinely in danger... well, "getting his hands dirty" would be a massive understatement. If someone threatens you, he'll incapacitate them with shocking brutality.
Afterwards, though, he panics at the thought of you seeing him covered in blood. He'll scrub his hands with soap until the skin is raw.
C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
Peter would never deliberately mock you. There isn't a single malicious bone in his body. In his mind, he's doing all of this for your own good. If you scream at him, call him a monster, or swear at him, he won't retaliate. He'll simply look heartbroken, his eyes filling with tears as he quietly apologises... before refusing to unlock the door.
D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?
Yes, but he'll convince himself it's still for your own safety. He secretly installs a custom application he designed himself on your phone, allowing him to read your messages, listen to your calls, and monitor your activity across social media. Your comments, posts, and private messages.
How could anyone expect him to leave the person he loves completely unprotected? You could die.
E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Completely.
He'll lean against you, sobbing as he confesses how guilty he feels and desperately explains why he has to do these things.
F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
It wouldn't do anything except break his heart. Your kicks, punches, and slaps barely affect him physically anyway. He won't fight back; he'll simply stand there and endure every blow.
If he thinks you're going to hurt yourself, he'll restrain you with webbing and hold you while you struggle and cry.
"Please... don't make this any harder than it already is."
G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
Not at all.
Watching you try to escape doesn't entertain him, it destroys him. Seeing you terrified of him, trying to run away, or both at once feels like torture. The thought of everything that could happen to you out in the city pushes him to the edge of a panic attack.
H - Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?
Peter would never intentionally hurt you physically. That's simply not who he is. Aunt May and Uncle Ben raised him better than that.
As twisted as his thinking has become, Peter is still Peter. The worst thing you'd probably experience is being immobilised in his webbing, unable to free yourself while panic sets in. Throughout it all, he'd be holding you, trying to comfort and calm you. Even if it only makes everything worse.
I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
A peaceful life far away from the noise of New York, in a quiet home protected by state-of-the-art security systems, where nothing can ever hurt you again.
J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Painfully jealous.
His jealousy never manifests as anger, it manifests as anxiety. He won't say a word to you, but he'll quietly do everything he can to remove that person from your life... even if that means arranging a little visit from your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.
K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
At first, and for quite a long time, he's hesitant and constantly flustered. He apologises over the smallest things and usually asks permission before doing anything (except when he's webbed you up to stop you from hurting yourself).
If you kiss him, even if it's only to distract him long enough to escape, he melts instantly.
L - Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
Let's be honest, he's terrible at flirting. Absolutely hopeless.
Instead, he'll write anonymous love letters, stumble over every other sentence whenever he talks to you, and leave adorable little sticky notes in your bag.
M - Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
Both yes and no.
He's still the witty, brilliant, slightly nerdy, genuinely kind boy everyone knows. The difference is that only you ever see the parts shaped by trauma: his terror of abandonment and his overwhelming need to control everything in order to keep the people he loves safe.
N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
He hates the very idea of punishment.
However, if you betray his trust or try to escape, he'll quietly revoke your privileges for an indefinite period. He'll pin you to the wall with webbing until you've calmed down, sit opposite you in complete silence, isolating himself alongside you... and afterwards deliver another heartfelt speech about how dangerous the outside world really is.
O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
The first things to disappear are your privacy and your freedom.
You won't be allowed to go anywhere without him. Inside the house, however, he'll give you as much space and comfort as he possibly can, filling it with books, hobbies, and anything else that makes you happy.
P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
As long as you're not putting yourself in physical danger, which absolutely terrifies him, his patience is practically endless.
He expected you to be angry. He knew this would happen. More than anything, he'll just feel crushing guilt for being the reason you're suffering.
Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
If you escape: He'll devote every ounce of his intelligence and every piece of technology he can access to finding you.
If you die: It utterly destroys him.
Losing you while trying to protect you strikes directly at his deepest wound: failing to save the people he loves. He'll never forgive himself, and he may even give up being a superhero entirely.
After all, if he couldn't protect the person he loved most, how could he ever hope to protect anyone else's?
R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
Every single day. The guilt is indescribable, and he despises himself for what he's done. Would he let you go? No.
He refuses to leave you vulnerable to a murderer, an accident, or anyone who might hurt you, even if protecting you costs you your freedom.
S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc.)?
Loss.
Losing Uncle Ben, Gwen, and so many people he loved left wounds that never truly healed.
He refuses to lose one more person.
T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
It breaks him.
Knowing you're crying because of him makes him feel like a monster. He'll bring your favourite snacks, apologise over and over again, and desperately try to make things better.
If you isolate yourself, he'll sit outside your door, leaning against it, chatting away so you know he's still there. He'll tell you about things he saw that day, childhood memories, or ramble about random scientific facts.
U - Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Unlike most yanderes, his obsession stems from severe post-traumatic stress and an overwhelming hero complex.
At his core, all he wants is to keep you safe.
V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
His trust.
And his desperate hunger to be genuinely loved.
If you make him believe you've begun to understand his perspective and show him even a little genuine affection, he'll soften almost immediately—and over time, he'll inevitably become less careful with his security measures.
W - Wit's End: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Never.
Never intentionally.
He'd rather take bullets and knife wounds than ever raise a hand against you.
The worst he'd realistically do is accidentally leave bruises on your wrists because he grabbed you too tightly during a panic attack.
X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
He worships you. So much.
If you mentioned craving a particular dessert, he'd happily swing across the city in the middle of a storm just to bring it back for you.
Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
A very long time. Months. Maybe even years.
The thing most likely to make him finally snap is an attack directed at you, or a major threat to your safety that triggers all of his unresolved trauma.
Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Breaking you would be a tragedy in his eyes. He doesn't want an empty shell. He doesn't want a body that merely exists beside him. He wants you. The happy, healthy, talkative version of yourself.
If you ever did break because of him, he'd do absolutely everything in his power to put you back together again...
...while completely ignoring the fact that he was the one who shattered you in the first place.
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