Spider-Man Imagines

The Choices We Make (part one) | Peter Parker (TH)

i love y'all endlessly and always will and appreciate every request, vote, comment, and read but PLEASE stop requesting what i say i don't write. i love that you like my writing but i will not write girl x girl, boy x boy, smut, or self harm. please respect that

requested by Oplavender and mycatzero. i combined both of your requests because i thought they'd work well together :-) and because they're two lengthy requests, there will be another part!!!

this is legit just angst. so. much. angst guys

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Peter was getting tired of trying to figure out Norman Osborn. The man was insane, he could tell that much, and he was a killer that hid his identity in the Green Goblin. But no one but him knew that, and no one could separate Norman from the Green Goblin.

The Green Goblin was a killer. He had taken several innocent lives during an attempt to kill Spider-Man. The weight of those lost sat heavy on Peter's shoulders. It was his job to protect those people. He had no choice but to expose Osborn for the sick man he was.

Peter was currently swinging across Queens, the night relatively quiet. He was grateful for the absence of crime. It meant he could finally see you, no matter how brief that time would be before he launched himself into work once again.

He landed at your window and knocked three slow times. It was his knock, the sound he'd use to let you know that he was there.

(Not like anyone else was capable of climbing up six stories and knocking on your window).

He smiled beneath the mask as he saw your curtains part and your hands fumble with the lock quickly. Once it unlatched, he lifted the glass and ducked his head in, his left foot stepping inside.

"Hey," he said, holding onto the ledge as he moved his right foot in.

"Hi," you greeted, smiling softly. "How was it tonight?"

"Not too busy," he said, sliding the window shut. "Thank goodness. I really missed you."

"Yeah?" you asked, eyes soft and full of love. You opened your arms and he wasted no time to rip his mask off his face, toss it on your floor, and throw his arms around you.

He lifted your feet off the ground, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. You pressed yourself against him, humming happily as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair, still damp from your recent shower.

This, he thought, is what I needed.

You were his constant reminder of why he did what he did. The reason he endured bruises and broken bones and tried not to complain that he had to limp home instead of the hospital.

He pulled back, his eyes melting as he looked at you. You stood back on the ground, just smiling up at him like he was the entire world to you. Which he thought was ridiculous (but also loved).

"Are you gonna stay for a while?" you asked.

He shrugged. "If you want me to," he said. "There's no where else I'd rather be."