I don't own anything except any original character and/or any original plot.

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2k Special

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A year and a half of therapy hadn't done much for me. The professor did his best, and Nebula was inspirational, but it wasn't enough. So, I pulled a Tony Stark and drowned my sorrows in the alcohol hidden in the bunker. Water was malleable and easily fit into locks.

Red solo cups full of dirty thirty beer couldn't compare to the buzz I felt from well-aged whiskey. Enough so I really could forget what I'd done and gone through.

"(Y/n)? The professor said that you left the session early and- oh god, (Y/n). Again?"

Humming, I spun around on my heels, greeting Peter with a smile, "Peter! I was about to look for you!"

Peter glared at the bottle in my hand, "Put it down, (Y/n)."

"It makes me feel better. You want me to feel better, don't you?"

"This isn't the way, (Y/n). You're nineteen and getting so drunk you're out of your mind. It's not right."

Setting, and nearly dropping, the bottle on the desk, I stumbled into Peter's arms. He was so handsome, so loving, and so ready to give me the reassurance I desperately needed.

My lips clashed against Peter's in a one-sided kiss. Nudges against his chest prompted him to step backwards until he reached the bed.

"What are you doing?" Peter pulled back, holding my wrists to prevent me from pushing him further.

"I need to forget. You love me even after everything, right? Prove it." I fussed with the seam of his shirt.

Hand held up between our faces, I was unable to kiss Peter anymore. Frowning, I stepped back. He was trying to stop me from kissing him, from loving him... almost like he didn't love me. My eyes teared up at the thought.

"No. You're drunk, and hurting. Our first time having sex is not going to be under these circumstances."

"Why not?" I whined childishly.

"So many reasons. Now lay down. You're really gonna feel this in the morning."

"That's bullshit," I slurred, stumbling without the intention to walk in the first place. Peter caught my arms, holding me steady, "Total bullshit."

Peter's face contorted to show confusion, "What do you mean? You're drunk (Y/n). There's no way you won't feel this."

"Maybe I will but I do this all the time. It's- it's- it's how I feel better. 'Cause otherwise I feel like crap. I'm just a murderer and a daughter of that purple grape guy and nothing will ever change that and he's still in my head and-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Peter cut me off, rubbing my arms soothingly, "He may still be in your head, but you control how you handle that, okay? Now get into bed."

Following his orders, I climbed onto our bed. Although seconds earlier I was rearing and ready to go, I was out.

~*~

The next morning my skull was splitting in half. No nausea though, which was a shocking blessing- more than welcome. Groaning, I shoved my face into the pillow beneath me, having half a mind to sleep my hangover away.

"You're awake, good. Take this. I started a bath when it looked like you were waking up. It should be warm by now."

He shoved two pills and a glass of water into my hands. Lifting my head, I downed the meds, barely registering Peter as he knelt down in front of me. He scooped me up and carried me to our en suite bathroom, setting me on the tub rim.

"I'll go get you some toast. Take your time, though. You need this- not that you smell bad or anything! Well, you kind of smell like alcohol. But you've been stressed and hungover- which we need to talk about, eventually."

"Can we wait until tonight?"

"It's three in the afternoon, Blue."

"...Oh."

Chuckling, Peter left. Sighing, I took off my clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. I sunk into the warm waters. Heaven on my queasy stomach and aching head.

Whilst in the tub, I thought over everything that led me to that point. You always look at people who drink to forget in disdain, but until you have something you want to forget, you don't understand their thought processes. Hell, hearing about Tony's and Xavier's struggles through alcoholism never resonated in me like it did until I was in the bathtub.

The sessions worked in bits and pieces, my conscious slowly feeling better- but it wasn't enough. That's when I went into the alcohol cabinet for the first time.

I washed my body and hair. After, I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out. Peter was waiting on one of the two loveseats with toast and a cup.

"You should eat, and I got a virgin Bloody Mary for you too, depending on how you feel."

"Awful."

Adjusting my towel, I sat across from Peter and took the drink and plate from his hands. Eating silently, I kept sneaking glances at him. The disappointment was obvious in his features.

"I'm sorry," I finally spoke when I finished the plain bread and butter.

Peter sighed, "Sorry isn't going to fix everything."

"I know."

Sighing again, Peter pulled me into a hug. Setting my drink on the coffee table, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to hug him back with equal fervor. Comfort, safety, trust, love. They were all things I felt from Peter Parker. He'd been by my side for years- my partner in hero work. All he'd ever asked for in return was what I felt from him.

Maybe that's why it was so easy to fall apart in his arms.

"You don't deserved this," I whispered, nosing along his freshly cut hair, "You gave up being a photographer to move here with me, and all I've done is get drunk and mope around."

"I would die for you, (Y/n). You've been through hell and you're still putting out fires on yourself."

"I said you had to prove you loved me. That's not healthy, Peter. I tried to push you past your limits," I continued, only half processing his reassurances.

"Did we have sex? No. Did you really push me? No. Do I feel like I have to prove my love? Yes, because you manage to make my world shake when you smile, and my heart explode when you laugh. And when you say I love you, I could hold the galaxy in my hands and I'd throw it away to hear you say it again."

Half sobbing, half smiling, I clutched Peter even tighter. My life had turned into thousands of strings overlapping and twisting together to form an enormous knot. Peter could give one pull and it'd all fall apart.

"I love you, Bug-Boy."

"There goes the galaxy," Peter chuckled, brushing his lips over my cheek, "I love you too. Now drink that hangover cure so we can spend the day talking and watching movies."

Per Peter's command, I chugged the drink and snuggled up next to him as he turned on the TV. We bickered about what movie to watch and settled on A Monster Calls. A good one, but watched enough that we could talk with minimum distraction.

Even though it was obvious I needed a real, certified therapist, Peter felt deadly similar to one when there was a bowl of popcorn between us.

So, I spilled my guts. Which included, but wasn't limited to: sobbing about the people I'd hurt, updating him on my sessions with the professor, ranting about how angry I was with Thanos, and ending with admitting how much I hated my body because of the modifications Thanos made.

It was enough to get us through two-and-a-half movies- the half one being Mortal Instruments, two water bottles, and popcorn.

"Wait... you hate your body?" Peter couldn't fathom the idea, "But you're so... perfect."

I laughed at that, "Even before what Thanos did, I was far from perfect."

Peter was even more shocked, but soon blushed, "I don't know, I think- I think that everything about you is gorgeous."

"Stop it, you sap!" I covered my face in embarrassment.

Gently prying my fingers away from my face, Peter kissed me slowly, sensually. His lips left mine and trailed over the metal above my brows.

"The guy who made you hate yourself is an asshole, but none of thischangesyou, (Y/n)."

Peter returned to my lips. Humming, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Fingers, warm and hesitant, slid slightly under my shirt.

"Is this okay?"

Without hesitation I nodded. His hands wandered to the modifications on my torso, brushing over them with the utmost care. I no longer had nerves there, but his feather light touches weren't easily missed. The metal lines ended below my ribs, yet he kept travelling up.

Per a coincidence I would call perfect, the garden scene began, and the song that played, Heart by Heart, increased the tension both on screen and between Peter and me.

{The smut starts now. I'll mark where it ends like I have here. Also, start the song if you haven't already!}

Also sensing the shift, Peter hooked his arms under my legs and lifted me off the couch. He dropped me on the bed, crawling on after. His hands returned to their original resting place just below my bra strap.

"Can I?"

I nodded, arching my back to assist him as he unhooked it. First came off my shirt, thrown haphazardly to the side. Then, came the bra. The straps brushed down my arms until it too could be thrown aside.

"Wow," Peter breathed.

My face might as well have been on fire. Resisting the urge to cover myself, I watched Peter's expression carefully. It's nothing he hadn't seen before. If we were still in high school, we would have told our friends we were 'half-virgins'. The term was a bit stupid, but we still identified within it. We'd been in sexual situations before, and got release from each other, but not in the 'reproduction' way.

"Oh, right. I want this to be equal," Peter tugged his shirt off, revealing the abs I loved so much, "Even though women are told to cover up their breasts and men can be shirtless because society targets women's sensuality unless it suits them."

Grinning, I carded a hand through Peter's hair and pulled him down to me, "There's my Peter." I whispered before kissing him silly.

Hesitant, his hands hovered over my breasts. Placing my own hands on top of his, I guided him. He gave a small squeeze, then flicked his thumbs over my nipples. Inhaling sharply, that encouraged him to continue.

"You'll tell me if you're uncomfortable with anything, right?" Peter's lips left mine to hover over my breasts.

"Of course."

With that his flicked his tongue over my right nipple, rolling the left between his thumb and pointer finger- both of which drew gasps. Using his free hand, he tugged on the string of my joggers until they were loose on my hips. I lifted my hips to assist in the removal of my pants and panties; of which joined my other clothes on the floor.

Nothing we had done in the past had left me so exposed. So vulnerable. Peter took all of me in. My stomach twisted in knots as he did. Finally, he broke the silence, and I fell in love with him all over again. He was adorkable.

"You- you're really pretty- but I don't want you to think I'm doing this because you're hot, but because this means something to me."

"I know, Peter. You're a fine specimen too, I get it."

Sighing in relief, Peter unbuttoned his own pants and pulled them down. Although Peter had never seen my bottom half before, I'd seen his. Hence the whole 'half virgins' thing. We knew our limits and were willing to explicitly set them.

Peter was well endowed from what I understood. According to him, along with his muscles growing from the spider bite, everything else did too. Slightly longer than average with girth to spare. It was flushed, hard, and as ready as I was.

"Look at you, Parker," I teased, giggling when he flushed.

Positioning his knees on either side of my legs, he pressed a finger against my aching heat. Moaning, my legs spread to give him easier access. He repositioned in between my legs-

"Wait, shit, do we have condoms?" It hadn't dawned on me before that we'd need protection that night.

Peter reached over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and pulled the drawer open, producing a little silver package. Raising a brow for an explanation, Peter flushed.

"Aunt May gives them to me sometimes when I visit..."

"Of course she does," I giggled.

Tearing open the package Peter put the condom on himself and returned to his former position. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I braced myself as he lined up. Perhaps closing my eyes and focusing on anything else but the oncoming pain would have been smarter, but I was stuck staring in Peter's eyes. Even hooded and clouded with lust, they shined with adoration and awe.

I gulped as the pressure of him pushing in broke through my thoughts. Peter was considerate enough to go slowly, pausing every time he saw even a twinge of discomfort on my face. Thanks to the slow pace, and the chance to adjust, it wasn't as horrible as it could have been. Not to say it was immediate pleasure, but when you've been through as much shit as I had, it was bearable.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked breathlessly.

I nodded once, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Peter experimentally thrust his hips. Humming in pleasure, my body finally relaxed into the sheets beneath me. Peter put his lips back on mine, thrusting again.

The heat-fueled kiss began to fade when I was moaning into his mouth like it was all I knew how to do, his cock stretching me blissfully as we navigated our newest and deepest connection together. Perhaps it wasn't perfect, and at times the both of us had to assist the other, but I wouldn't trade the moment for the world.

"I love you, (Y/n), I love you, I love you."

Moaning out as we finally found a rhythm that worked, Peter lifted a hand and trailed it over my stomach like he was touching a piece of antique glass. The change of focus adjusted the pace, and with an accidentally angled thrust, I choked out a moan louder than the others. Head snapping up to look at me, Peter repeated what he did, drawing the same kind of reaction.

What had often been called a carnal act, a language of beasts, was making me lightheaded with surges of overwhelming love and gentleness. It was sending me into euphoria and that was all I could really focus on at that moment.

Peter's pants became more apparent, and he lowered his head onto my shoulder, his sweat covered forehead mixing with the thin layer of sweat that was adorning my body. So much heat for such a cold winter day in upstate New York.

"Don't stop Peter," I begged below a whisper as if he would.

On the contrary, his paced quickened even more. He muffled his moans by holding his lips against the crook of my neck, but the vibrations were being sent throughout my body and it made me so much more sensitive, making me feel so much more intimate with him. My nails found purchase in the skin of his back, and with the knowledge of his enhanced healing, I wasn't afraid of dragging them down.

A coil formed in my lower stomach. Not the most common one I felt, where it was dread and a sense of impending danger. It was something I'd felt few times, each and every one curtesy of Peter. I knew it meant-

Everything crashed down in that moment. A whimper caught in my vocal cords as my world disappeared in a rush of blinding pleasure. A steady thrum remained in my veins even as my vision returned. It was from Peter, from myself, from the air around us and everything so far away.

Peter didn't announce his climax either, just stopped his ministrations and groaned low in his throat. His arms were shaking, and I pushed on his bicep until he took the hint and shifted onto his side whilst pulling out. I hissed through my teeth at the sudden change, but took the chance to shift towards Peter as well.

{Smut complete. Welcome back everyone who skipped and enjoy the fluffy ending!}

Blinking blearily, I felt a pair of lips against my forehead and a blanket over my bare body. A few more seconds and Peter was next to me again, pulling me close.

"I love you too," I whispered, pressing a kiss against his jaw, "That was nice."

"Nice?"

"What? You want me to get on my knees and sing your praises?" I asked with a small smile, "You know what I meant Peter."

Humming in agreement, Peter sighed against my hair, "I'm glad we finally talked about your drinking, and that we did this. You're gonna keep talking to me about this, right?"

"Right."

"And the professor?"

"Yes, sir," I chuckled, "Let's just finish the movie together and go to sleep, okay?"

"You know I can't say no to you." We turned back to the movie which was three-quarters done at the point, and snuggled close.

The future wouldn't be easy, and all of my mental instability wouldn't go away overnight- I knew that. But I was a survivor. I'd been a hero for years, and even if Peter and I had technically required, my fighting spirit wasn't going anywhere.

Whatever the world threw at me, I'd come out shining.

Time for the Sappy Stuff!

So, obviously this is a 2k special (that's what it's titled afterall), and for such a monumental achievement, I wrote my first ever full length smut. It is kind of short in comparison to the fluff and character building in the beginning, but I'm still proud of it, lol.

I looked at my account and saw that I created it 3 and a half years ago. Three. And a half. Years. That's insane! I remember starting out with really awful original stories. Like, I didn't even start with X Readers, it was terrible originals. And seeing how much I've grown since then, even how much I've grown since writing Elemental blows my mind, and it's all thanks to you.

Every single one of you, whether we're close friends on this platform, whether you vote on every chapter, or leave funny comments, you mean so so much to me. I really mean that. If you ever think you aren't loved, read this. Because oh my god, I have so much endless love in my heart for each and every one of you. You've shaped me as a person and I don't know where I'd be without you guys and this outlet.

I hope that together, me and all 2,000 of you, can continue to grow and write and read amazing stories- fanfiction or otherwise. I'd like you all to remember that you have a friend in me, and nothing will change that. I can see myself writing X Readers when I'm 70, so there's no getting rid of me.

If you want to see some more of me, I have some social handles below. All of the accounts below have some really cool, exclusive things within!

Instagram: lydias.grace

AO3: lydiaofthefallen

Original Stories Account: @lydiasgrace

There'll never be a better time to say this: I love you 3,000. Let's get there soon, yeah?

~ Lydia