Spiderkiller: Spider-Man into the Spider-verse~Peter B. Parker x reader~

Number 1: Denial

My eyes shut closed, pulling me in for a deep sleep.

Miguel was looking at me weird.

"Are you done?" He asked. "I mean, I get it, but like, what is up with you and that reporter guy? You like him or something?"

"What?" I shot back, raising my brows. "He's hot! Have you even seen him? That guy belongs on a magazine cover!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "For depressed dads maybe-"

"What's wrong with a rugged, depressed father figure, Miggs?" I asked, wiggling my brows.

"Nothing, I suppose." He sighed, sipping his coffee.

I wiggled my brows harder. "So."

"So." He shot back. "Nothing happened."

"Yeah." I mumbled, rolling my eyes. "How's work?"

"Shit, as usual." He said, brushing a hand through his grey streaked hair. "Still working on debunking Spider-Man's identity?"

"Yeah." I replied, looking about the cafe.

———

"Helloooooooo?! Earth to (Y/n?!)" Miguel O'Hara huffed, smacking the back of my head. "What did I just say?"

"To pay attention-?" I guessed.

"Oh, sweet mother, are you even listening to me? I'm telling you. Dreamology's a thing." He said.

"Dream-what now? You're making shit up on me, I swear." I groaned. "Just cause you once dreamt you'd be in charge of a multiversal facility for Spider-people DOESN'T MEAN IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN!"

"You don't know that!" He said. "I'm telling you, dreams are windows to other dimensions!"

"Oh here we go again." I huffed. "I've never had a dream that makes sense. Like- Ever."

"Well, that sounds like a skill issue." He sighed.

My phone buzzed. Another Spider-Man sighting. Near 31st Ave, Astoria.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned, grabbing my camera.

"Off to see the love of your life, you obsessed fangirl?" He teased.

"Oh shut up." I said, leaving my apartment.

———

Blood was covering my hands.

Ock's laughing echoed in my ears as I squeezed my fists shut.

Motherfucker.

Peter was below me, breathing heavily, green eyes going dull.

Again.

———

I rushed to the edge of the building, leaping off after him.

I reached out a clawed hand, but his suit slipped through my fingers.

He crashed onto the rubble.

Bones cracked, blood splattered.

I dug into his chest in anger.

He was dead.

Again.

———

I whirled around, launching myself at Ock, tearing through metal tentacles, avoiding smoke bombs and other hellish devices.

I had to make it before-

Peter's shriek sounded through the air.

Ock's vibranium tentacle had pierced his brain, killing him instantly.

Again.

———

Over and over.

Death after death.

Never ending.

Over.

And over.

And over.

And fucking over again.

———

I woke up with sweat beading on my skin, the cool air of a fan hitting my face.

My mask was off.

I groaned as I sat up.

"How long was I out?" I managed, downing the glass of water that was handed to me.

"About an hour." Peter B. replied. "Who's Miguel?"

"No one." I grunted, annoyed. "Mind your own fucking business-" I grabbed him by his suit, pulling him close. "Ya hear?"

"Ahem..." The two of us turned our heads towards the source of the rude interrupting voice.

Spider-Ham stood with a cartoonishly looking mug out of which steam rose. "If you two lovebirds are done, Aunt May wants you to come upstairs. Peni's making a new goober."

"Oh." Peter made, quickly pushing away from me.

I pushed past him wordlessly, heading upstairs.

What a prying asshole. Fuck him and his pretty face.

Yeah.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

(Y/n) what the fuck.

NO.