Peter Parker Imagines Book

Favorite Muse

Buckle up passengers, I got carried away with writing this one.

This goes to ThatRandomDemigod07, who requested an artist!reader a while ago, and now here I am, presenting to you!

I pretty much had a couple draft chapters all with different plots with an artist!reader that I pretty much scrapped and instead worked all of them into this one for one big ultimate oneshot. So I hope everyone enjoys, because it took me three different sessions to write it lol.

One of your only states of peace was when you were creating.

You had never been invested in something your entire life as much as you were invested in art. Drawing was your everything.

You passed the time by drawing. Calmed down by drawing. Told stories by drawing. Fantasized by drawing. Most teenagers kept diaries or journals. You kept your sketchpad.

Your bag always clattered with various art supplies. Pencils and pens. Sometimes even inks. You doodled in every moment of your spare time. Put a pencil to the paper every time you felt like it. You had multiple Pinterest boards ranging from figure studies to the most stylistic art styles. And absolutely no one around you was safe from being interpreted into your sketchbook.

You had always been creative, for as long as you could remember. You blamed it on your vivid imagination.

A picture could really tell a story, and you were a big enthusiast of the concept. You created original characters and comics and the occasional fanart. You drew your emotions, how you were feeling, what you did that day, what—or more accurately, who—you were thinking of.

Needless to say, your ability to create art was what made you who you were. It was your life.

So the fact that you were currently sitting with your head on the pages your hands would normally be with some kind of art medium, groaning into your sketchpad from frustration, was mildly concerning.

"I hate the internet." You muttered to yourself, lifting your head up and looking at your sketches with an annoyed look.

Spread across two pages were multiple rough sketches of Spider-Man — or whatever you would call the off brand superhero. It was Spider-Man, but at the same time, it just wasn't. Something was always off.

So maybe you were being harsh with yourself. It was partially the internet's fault as well; photographers never being able to catch a clear photo of the web-slinger with enough detail for you to get his suit right. It didn't help that you had seen him in three different suits swinging through New York City either.

It was mildly infuriating, to say the least. The one superhero in New York that never pauses for a camera unless it was a fans. Even then, they were only quick selfies. Nothing good enough with full suit detail.

The closest you had come was some blurry photos the Bugle manages to capture. It's like Spider-Man was deliberately staying away from any cameras. It was moments like this you wished he was a registered Avenger and not acting outside the law, so that he would be in interviews like the ones they conducted before the Accords.

You decided to just turn the page, leaving attempts #18-23 for another day. You were in a mood to draw, and you weren't going to let the failure of one subject bring you down.