#Peter Parker’s crush is so big you can see it from space

[desb3ar]

Vulnerable

Pairing: Miguel x Reader

Summary: A heart to heart. Comforting Miguel.

Genre: Emotional, uplifting

Warnings: Forms of self-neglect and self-loathing.

Disclaimer: This is placed during the heat of his tragic event. Just a couple weeks after. I can’t tell you the gap between then and the time the movie was placed since I don’t have a timeline at my disposal, so I’m sorry if theres some inaccuracies within here that don’t sit right.

The reader has no indication of gender.

~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since the tragedy. The moment the world had crumbled around him like an earthquake wreaking havoc in a city, debris crushing those around him, just out of his reach. That horrific day of seeing the unforeseen result of his actions left an ugly stain on his decrepit psyche. The unforgettable memory of hearing his foster daughter desperately yell out to him for aid as she glitched into nothing right in his arms had messed him up completely. Seeing his palms, like her blood was on his shaky hands. Someone he had a strong connection with, someone who he loved dearly, was gone, and he was the person to blame. A whole universe was in the palm of his hand, unbeknownst to him.

As he would stand tall, the Miguel he was before being gutted out of anything, he remained in his office. Empty and cold. That space was nothing but a tomb with someone buried alive inside by the worries and concerns for keeping everything together. Dealing with nails-on-a-chalkboard humor by numerous Peter Parkers and other variants was something he endured every waking hour when he was working. Which is every day.

With his neglected emotions aside, shoving them into the back of his mind, he keeps himself ready to order when he’s on the clock. An anomaly was taken down in minutes if it wasn’t some big shot super villain. He’d rid himself of the need for back up, he didn’t need anyone. He can do it all by himself, he’s a strong guy. Isn’t he?

He’s lost track of the days, or weeks, he’s taken a day off. That led to certain needs not being met. His shower wasn’t touched for days until he actually took his focus off his screens to get a whiff of himself. He had no shame, nothing was worse than the reason he’s brought himself down to hell. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. Jess and Peter B. gave him a push to get his tail up. He was able to return to his home just to bathe, but then it was back to work. That was his plan, to pop in then pop back out.

However, someone knocked on his door. With a slight groan and great reluctance, he made his way over to his door and pulled it open.

“You got the wrong house. I don-“

His mouth froze when he saw who he was about to shut down.

It was you.

Miguel and you had gone way back to his early days of being Spiderman. You and him had chemistry that not even the most skilled chemist could understand. You were a calm, reasonable, and sweet being with a heart made of gold, seems like you gave him a chance when he was accepted into your orbit.

The two of you hung out with each other frequently, drinking at spots you found in the cities, downtown too, and swapped between who’s pad you two were gonna hang out in that day.

Your bond was believed to be unbreakable. Until the incident.

Days together turn into the days you’d only remember. When life was just alright, when he smiled. Now they were counted, tallied up to the grand total of 47 since the last time you two faced one another.

What you saw was a walking dead man, his eyes sunken from the lack of overall care, eye bags telling his horrific sleep schedule, skin dry, hair messy, he was not the same man. You couldn’t even make out if he was even the guy you’d steal food from and share drinks with. Its been weeks and then some of radio silence on his end.

You’ve ruthlessly contacted him, but he was never keen on responding to your messages and endless calls. Multiple calls turned to one a day. Messages followed suit. You lost enough hope with long-distance communication and decided with better judgment that this reunion needed to be face-to-face. The untold but expected awkwardness was your push.

You two stood in heavy silence until you let out a soft sigh. Then, you pushed your way in, making him stumble as you moved him away from the door and pushed it close. His cracked and damaged heart skipped a beat.

“I’d believe you’ve lost your phone given your silence.” You started. Miguel stared at you as you found your place in front of him. “… But you make way too much money to not have another one if you even lost it to start.”

Miguel sighed and just… Walked away. This left you wide eyed. “Wha- Hey! Don’t just walk away from me- TALK to me! Where have you been?” You exclaimed as you followed behind him. “It’s been ages without a single word and you don’t even have anything to say now that I’m here?”

You went on to vent about the worrying abrupt absence that came from him as he set his route to his room that was devoid of filth. You’re heart ached when he didn’t say a way to your words, as if they hadn’t meant anything, or simply went through him with no effect. He sat on his bed facing away from you with you standing at the doorway.

"It's nothing." He monotonously muttered as he kept his eyes off you,

"Like hell it is." You spat. "C'mon, don't get fresh with me. Where have you been all this time? I get that you have your whole superhero thing goin' on, but nothing's kept you away for this long."

"Nowhere." He answered dryly as he put a hand on his face.

You took a deep breath and sighed at his response. "Miguel O'Hara, you have got to talk to me, not just respond. Gimme somethin' to work with." You protested.

Your friend was going through something. You let your excitement to see him and annoyance at him being a brick wall get to you. Thinking he died tragically without a trace made it seem valid. You took a second to get yourself together before you walked to his bed, joining him. Your own weight made the bed mattress seep, moving him slightly. He didn't grant you not a second of a glance.

He wasn't always the most vocal about how he was mentally. It had always been a thing you wanted to get into with him. Having deep coversations about life once a bluemoon had opened a window of oppurtunity.

One night, the two of you were talking about childhood and other endeavors that sculpted out how you turned out. You spilled some details about the past and he was surprised about how you seemed so vastly different compared to how you were brought up. That surprise came with validation when he was somewhat relating to you. Everyone who wasn't sheltered as much had suffered through some form of childhood trauma, that's obvious. However, with Miguel, going through his neglectful and troublesome past, he was stuck on the fence of reaching out when he truly needed help.

“… Miguel. What’s going on?" You asked him, your voice now lacking the fierceness you once had, just filled with worry.

Miguel stared down at the floor. His mind was flipping through the pages of a book on how to even explain. The pain he felt these past couple weeks crept back through him like a cryiptic plague.

"... I'm sorry." He spoke gravely. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything." He closed his eyes as if it would make it easier for him. "I... I went through something that really... Troubled me..." He confessed slowly.

"That's fine, that is alright, Miguel." You reassured him. "Just..."

You looked down his lap. His fingers tightly gripping his pants as his forearms shivered. You looked at his face with only your eyes. He was trying so desperately to keep himself together.

"... I hate myself for this." He grieved, his eyes were tightly shut. "I made a horrible mistake." He confessed.

He wanted to speak more, but it wasn't coming out. He knew you deserved a better explanation, but he didn't know how'd you see him after he foolishly let a whole universe blow away into oblivion. All because he wanted a family, to take care of a daughter that wasn't even his. Who makes that seem so innocent. Anyone could find that immoral, but he couldn't just let her be on her own. He wouldn't be able to bear it. Yet, he would have much rather her go through it alone now instead of her not being here at all. He couldn't think of a reason to care for himself, or even look at his own reflection. He only saw someone who was naive, someone he didn't deserve much more than a passing glance.

During his attempts at trying to speak, his lips remained parted to only spill nothing. His breath was shaking with anticipation, that was when a horse sob broke past his guard.

"Hey, hey." You placed an arm on his shoulder, rubbing it. "Look, you can talk about it later. Okay?" You told him with a gentle tone.

Silence reigned when he looked at you.

It was a sight you never thought of seeing.

He was on the brink of breaking down right in front of you.

This was not like him.

That's what broke your heart.

You went in and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry." You said.

That was when he finally broke down in your arms, hugging you tightly. His painful sobs ripped through his throat as tears ran down his cheeks like faucets, wetting your shoulder. All the pain he's gone through up till this point was finally being let out.

You pat his back gently, gasping and panting, catching his breath. The sounds of his despair made it harder for you to keep it together yourself. You nearly caved when, through sobs, he spoke about how much he despised himself. Treating himself like someone that committed the worst crime. He gripped onto your top tightly.

You spoke against it, knowing this was all just things saying out of spite of himself. You didn't want him to keep up with this mindset. You started to give him soft and gentle kisses on the cheek. You spoke words of reassurance and small truths that was able to break him out of his shell of self-hatred.

He was beginning to find ease, taking you in, he didn't loosen his grip around you however. His breathing hitching as you rubbed his back.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

There was never a time in your life where he was even close to shedding a tear. However now, he was completely vulnerable.

.

.

.

.

.

got a little rushed in the end so i apologize.

comforting miguel is so nice so why not write about it??

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #art #miguel spiderverse #miguel #miguel spiderman #atsv fanart #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguelohara #miguel atsv #miguel o hara #miguel fanart #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel 2099

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 6

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count:   1684

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 6

Steve Rogers: The Man Behind the Mask

By Melody Danes | Photographs by Peter Parker

Everyone knows Captain America.  He’s on the news regularly.  There are comic books and action figures based on the man.  Less is known about Steve Rogers.  The centurion who became the first-ever Super Soldier is often tight-lipped about his personal life.  He opened up to DB and what we found was not what we expected.

“You have a crush on Captain America!”

I’ve heard that accusation a lot since I started working on this profile piece.  The first day I went in to meet him for lunch I kept telling myself; be professional, be professional, be professional, in my head on repeat.  This is my first gig after all and well - it’s Captain freaking America.  I didn’t want to freak the man out and ruin any potential I had at getting another interview assigned to me in the future.

Over the week I spent following Steve Rogers around I realized that was easier said than done.

I should start at the beginning.  I had agreed to meet Steve at a diner near the Avengers Tower.  Since he is who he is, and this was my first interview with anyone, I wanted to make a good impression. So I borrowed a pantsuit from a friend.  It was not my best call, the shoes I wore were a size too big, and I fell just outside the diner we’d agreed to meet in.

Falling and being caught by Captain America when you’re on the way to meet him should be illegal.  It leads to too many awful things from completely mortifying embarrassment to imagining how one day you’ll tell your grandchildren the story of how you met their grandfather.

Steve is somehow even more handsome in real life than in pictures.  It’s almost like he’s been carved out of marble.  His skin is flawless and his muscles are hard like stone.  It’s his eyes that catch you though.  They are so blue and his lashes are so long and so dark that I’m fairly sure they could see them from the Alpha Flight Space Station.  They’re also kind.  Steve can be intimidating, but there is something about his eyes that makes you feel safe.

That first meeting I’d expected him to be closed off and unwilling to open up.  The Avengers haven’t exactly had the best run with the way the press reports on their work, and Steve in particular is known to keep to business when he speaks to the press.  What I found (apart from the textbook definition of a chivalrous meet-cute) was a man who wanted to see who he was, just as much as we wanted to find out.

We are all used to seeing Steve Rogers as Captain America, a role he considers important, but the role means he’s always on display and the way we interpret the message might not be the one he is trying to put out.

He wasn't always on display.  As he sits down to his steak he tells me about his childhood.  It's a bleak tale.  We all know the story, Steve Rogers was born to poor Irish Immigrants Steve had a list of ailments as tall as he was.  Asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, sinusitis, heart palpitations, nervous trouble, bone and joint deformity, color blindness, scoliosis, high blood pressure, diabetes, pernicious anemia, partial deafness, astigmatism, and easy fatigability.  It’s quite the list.  “I was a perpetual letdown for my father.  All he wanted was a good strong son who could follow in his footsteps, but what he got was a sick kid they didn’t expect would make it to adulthood,” Steve confesses.  The disappointment was added to when Steve’s younger brother died shortly after he was born.  It resulted in Steve’s father turning to alcohol and taking out that disappointment on the son who did survive.

It’s the kind of childhood that people usually describe to explain what sent them to the dark side.  Not so for Steve.  It made him particularly sensitive to vulnerable people.  In his own words, Steve Rogers doesn’t like bullies.

On a tour of Brooklyn Heights, the place he spent his youth, Steve is quick to point out all the places where he fought off bullies.  “You point to a spot and I probably started something I couldn’t finish there,” he tells me as we walk the streets.  Even with that huge list of ailments and a father who beat him, he still stood up to people bigger than him when he thought something wasn’t right.  It was no wonder that they chose him for Project Rebirth.

The sight of the Project Rebirth experiment that had turned into a nightclub now, and a strange tribute to all things Captain America.  Taking a look around it with Steve is a strange experience.  He seems genuinely happy that it had been turned into a place people go to enjoy themselves but it’s hard not to think about how he’d been experimented on and changed in that very room, making him the man he is today.

There are still things that linger from his childhood.  Over his steak, Steve tells me about his issues with food and why he hadn’t ordered the pancakes he would have preferred. “Steak is fine.  But is it what I wanted?  I’m not even sure.  I chose it because it looked like it was the best combination of protein and carbohydrates to get me through until dinner.  The serum has made it so I burn through calories so fast, so if I eat something like pancakes or pie, I end up having a crash an hour or so later.  And I can’t have that because it means I have to eat again.  And for a guy who grew up through the great depression with medical conditions that made it so that he had to eat pounds of raw meat that I’d just end up throwing up - well I can’t take constantly eating throughout the day.”

It's such a human reaction to childhood trauma.  We put our superheroes up on these pedestals and expect them to be more than us.  To be perfect both as public figures and behind closed doors.  It's a position no one can hope to achieve.  Not even actual gods. (Especially not actual gods).

Steve Rogers is just a man.  A good man, but still just a man.  He blushes when he flirts and he rolls his eyes when his friends tease him.  He can be quite sarcastic when he wants to be and he seems to want to be on a semi-regular basis.  He is sweet and he is open about what he believes in.  Sergeant James Barnes, Steve’s best friend growing up, followed him into battle not because he was Captain America but because he was Steve Rogers, “... and that little punk had a good heart.”

When asked what his biggest flaws are, he thinks about the question seriously.  “I expect a lot out of others.  I think I also automatically fall into a kind of disappointed father role.  And I can be reckless.”

That recklessness is regularly seen through his role as Captain America.  The fact he is still alive today is only because he intentionally crashed a plane in the Arctic Ocean and was put into suspended animation thanks to the ice.  He is regularly known to throw himself off buildings without a way to break his fall.

He’s a little more careful in his personal life, though it’s easy to see why.  The man has lost everyone once.  Since waking up there’s only ever been one rumored romantic partner.  Though he has gathered a rather large group of friends around him.  The Avengers are more than just teammates, they're a family that they created together. Each one wants to be better and help fix the world with the skills they each have.

So what is a better world according to Steve Rogers?  “I’ve always believed consenting adults should be able to love each other freely and without interference.  I have always believed that people should have a minimum standard of living that’s met even if they’re unable to work.  That means homes, food, electricity, running water, and medical care.  I have always believed that people should be free to worship whatever god they choose - or not - as long as that worship doesn’t interfere with others or harm them.”

He’s also pro-choice - a position well ahead of his time, though he’s seen what can happen when the procedure is outlawed.

That is only one of the ways the world has changed since he was a kid, not just politically but physically.  Steve used to stand at the docks in Brooklyn and watch the city line change.  It’s now barely recognizable to him, only really the Chrysler and Empire State buildings stand out as recognizable.  Where he grew up is different too, the art school where he started college doesn’t even exist anymore.  Back when he was a child he treated his myriad of medical conditions using things like heroin, cocaine, and belladonna, something that seems unbelievable today.

It’s a lot to have to adjust to, but he has adjusted, and he still works to change what needs work while appreciating the changes that have happened.  When I ask what he thinks we do today that will be seen as completely backward in another hundred years, his answer is circumcision.

He immediately blushes at his answer.

And that’s the Steve Rogers I got to know.  Working hard at fitting into a world that has moved forward as he works to make further changes.  Trying to be the good man he is.  Snarky.  Intelligent.  And willing to talk about circumcision with a stranger even when it makes him blush.

So my friends are wrong.  I don’t have a crush on Captain America.  My crush is firmly aimed at Steve Rogers.  The man is sweet-natured, decent, and completely unexpected.  I may always carry this crush with me.  He’s something special, and we’re all really lucky to have him.

// NEXT

#marvel #avengers #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x ofc #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ofc #smut #the interview

[privateanxieties]

uh-oh, look at us

Summary: She’s lonely and well past lightly buzzed - she’s teetering the line of drunk. And then Spider-Man crashes through her window like a disgruntled pigeon. Between the two of them, coughing up one brain cell is quite the task.

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x Reader (she/her)

Words: 1.7K

-----------------------------

Confronting your loneliness is a task best accomplished while sweetened up by delightfully fruity wine, something to ease her mind into the pity party she's throwing tonight.

It's been a while since she's started realizing that she's getting quite… old, at least too old to still yearn with childishness for things that come so easily to others. You begin to feel a bit pathetic, trapped in the same cycle of irrationality for years, and at some point you just stop trying. You turn a sour grapes situation into a no-grapes-at-all one.

It's why she's throwing this party on a shitty couch she hasn't bothered decluttering - there are no friends to indulge the wine and snacks with her. The last time she can remember being socially apt enough to quickly invite people in was a random girl she met when she was six, both of them subjected to a boring event by their parents and having to find a way to spend the time more pleasantly.

Past a certain age, it becomes too hard to talk to someone about yourself, or strike up a friendship - what would she even say? There are no stories worth telling, except the ones that never happened. Perhaps someone would listen with horror to her confession of the empty spaces in her life, and perhaps that'd be entertainment enough, but no one would choose to stay. Ironically, she can never leave herself, as much as she'd fancy at least a vacation from her mind. All she can give herself instead is a break from the crushing awareness. She can simply… turn it off. Become oblivious.

That's what she's hoping to do tonight, as she brandishes the ludicrously oversized wine glass around, pretending the couch is a fancy chaise in a therapist's office and she is the main character of all life on Earth.

She declares confidently that starting this year, there will be no more insecurity as she renounces the decade-long yearning. No more wondering, no more longing, no more melting from the observed gestures of others. No more asking what it would be like, no more wishing she were different. Going forward, she'll hold on to whatever she can, but she'll never again try to grasp at things. She'll make whatever can be made from this, leaving the rest up to time.

She's distantly aware that life is bound to be a revolving door of failure and disappointment if this is her plan for the future, but she can't find it in herself to care. She doesn't expect to live to see an age where she'll be filled with regret. Statistically, she ticks many of the boxes that make one predisposed to dying in anonymity. And though a part of her wants to believe there's always hope that things will improve, she knows that her self-sabotage skills are second to none.

She's the type of person who would take the bull by the horns only to kindly ask it not to stomp on her. Fat chance. It's a big, complex and often cruel world out there, and she feels small, simple and way too sensitive to defend herself, much less others.

She has no idea how he does it.

Night after night, the city stills under his watchful eyes and the light dawns with fewer threats roaming the streets. It's enviable and infuriating all at once, because she'd also like to have some kind of grand purpose if she can't have other meaningful experiences. The one time she tried playing the hero was a marvelous show of desperation and blind bravery, and it resulted in a close encounter with death and a wicked crescent scar for her trouble. Nobody benefitted from her intervention in that crumbling building all those months ago, and the hospital bill she got served when she woke up is still being paid off. Somehow. Her income is ok, but nothing to write home about. In fact, if she did try to write home, it'd probably come with a 'return to sender' stamp.

It's fine. She cut her losses on the parental front a while ago, and there isn't much to grieve. She misses none of the mind games and venom, and any potential inheritance wouldn't make up for all the groveling she'd have to endure to get it. Her parents are not nearly wealthy enough to justify their sadistic tendencies and narcissism, so it's a hard pass for her. Then again, if she's thinking this way, perhaps she's not as different from them as she thought.

"Qui se ressemble s'assemble," she mocks indignantly, her mother's favorite saying infiltrating awareness and finding its way to the tip of her tongue.

Birds of a feather do flock together, but that was never how her mother meant it. Whenever the occasion arose for her to dutifully dole out those words, they were always meant to rally the troops - to persuade an otherwise unwilling spectator into volatile action, usually backstabbing. Sometimes murder.

She hasn't killed anyone, but she's seen more than enough of that in the family: absolute bloodbaths - of the metaphorical kind, of course, but smothering and cruel all the same. At least if there were some sort of empire to fight over, she'd understand the heights of ambition her siblings possessed. Alas, no. She isn't giving up her soul for a few million dollars.

She isn't giving up expensive wine either, and at two hundred dollars a bottle, this little number is too pricey to be disappearing so quickly. It's a good thing she bought three, because the glutton she was raised to be still wins to the detriment of her more cultivated self sometimes. She'll blow a hole in her bank account at foreseeable intervals just to feel something.

But, unlike that hole, the one that's violently ripped into her window does not spark joy.

She's temporarily too dazed to scream, but when she sees the lumpy mass writhing on the carpet and registers its sporadic groans, staying calm becomes impossible.

"What the fuck?"

She repeats the sentiment a few more times before setting down the glass on the edge of the coffee table and getting off the couch at the farthest end from the window.

Her eyes know who that is, but her mind refuses to catch up. Why is he twitching like a crackhead? Why won't he stop twitching?

Ew, he's bleeding.

Cautiously (and a little wobbly) she approaches the twitching lump and dares to touch it, likely aided by the alcohol coursing her veins. It instantly backfires and she gets shocked backwards, feet barely missing his face, a small twitch now in her shoulder and tingles all over her tongue and forehead. The feeling must've returned some sharpness to her mind, because soon after she notices a small rectangular device on the heaving chest, right above where the spider's head ends - begins? It looks weird upside down. Three of the legs have been slashed into, and liquid that's darker than she expected now oozes out and onto her carpet. Is blood supposed to be that color? She's never seen this much of it to know.

Well, well… What to do in this predicament? Obviously, he's not dying on her living room floor and haunting the place. And if touching him is out of the question, what is a girl to do?

A dreadful idea pops into her head, but absent any other options and with urgency front and center, she reluctantly grabs the wine bottle from the table and pours its remaining contents directly over his chest. The twitching stops almost instantly, so her guess is that the rash decision was a success.

But he doesn't wake up. He keeps lying there motionless, no more sounds leaving him. He also keeps bleeding out on her carpet, and a brief vision of the police collecting his body from her apartment flashes across her mind. Unacceptable.

Now properly motivated, she first makes sure the wine really worked by touching the tip of her finger to the outer part of his left arm, relieved when no shock occurs and surprised by the softness of the fabric. To her credit, she does try to wake him up several times, each one less gentle than the last, but when no response emerges she has no choice but to pull something together resembling help.

When she stumbles dizzily on the way to the bathroom, she isn't sure which of them is more in need of assistance. Well, he is unconscious and bleeding out, so probably him - but the mirror reveals blood on her person that certainly did not come from him. On her shoulder and elbow there are several small and not so small gashes peppering the skin under  torn pyjamas. She didn't even notice that. Could be the buzz, or it could be the shock of having Spider-Man crash head-first through the living room window. Either way, she can figure those out later.

Grabbing as many clean towels as she can find, scissors and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, she makes her way back to the crash site. Great. Still passed out on the floor. Doing her best impression of first aid, she cuts away the bits of fabric that impede access to the wounds, calming herself by humming a random tune.

Pour some alcohol, dab with towel. Pour, dab. Pour, dab. Get cut on a shard of glass from lack of situational awareness. Check his breathing. Wonder if she's actually making things worse. Dab and pour. Pour and dab. Dab -

Her wrist is stopped mid-air by a firm grasp, and she jumps so far back that she cuts herself again, this time embedding a piece of glass in her palm.

"Fucking shit!"

In response, she hears a groan and a cough, both muffled by a mask that is soon lifted up and away. She stares in awe.

What. The fuck.

So slowly it might as well be at one frame per second, his head turns towards her and their eyes lock together. He blinks once and then again, and a tiny smile lifts one corner of his lips.

"Oh. Hey neighbor."

A/N: Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated. Feedback is crucial for writers and if you like a story, don’t hesitate to let us know :)

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew!peter x reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you

[ironchef13]

Characters that I think should star in a Spiderverse Fanfiction

Ok so in previous chapters I wrote about characters that Miles Morales would meet, team up with, or fight as Spider-man. Mostly Bailey Briggs aka Spider-Boy and the Gwen clones from the Spider-Gwen: Shadow Clone saga. And in some Spiderverse stories he is seen fighting the Tinkerer (Phin Mason) from the Spider-man: Miles Morales video game. However, there are many more characters in the Marvel comics that may not be as well-known, but I think should be featured in a Spiderverse fanfiction. Maybe Miles can team up with them, maybe he can fight them, the possibilities are up to you the fanfic writers. So here is a list of Marvel characters that I think should star in a Spiderverse fanfiction and why. Hope you enjoy.

1.) Ellie Ellison aka Necroko from the "Extreme Venomverse" Comics Ellie Ellison is a shy high school student who had bonded with a Venom symbiote and became a Sailor Moon-themed superhero known as Necroko. When I first discovered her, I never thought someone could look both scary and Adorable at the same time. For more information about Necroko you may check out the link below.

2.) Itsy Bitsy from the "Spider-man/Deadpool" comics Itsy Bitsy is an unnamed woman that willingly let herself become mutated with the combined abilities of Spider-man and Deadpool. Now in the original comics Itsy Bitsy almost gaslighted Spider-man into killing her which caused Deadpool to intervene and stop him. But in a Spiderverse fanfic I was thinking maybe instead Itsy Bitsy would be kidnapped, forcibly mutated, and have her mind erased. Which would then lead Miles to discover her and team up with her while trying to help discover who she used to be. As for her personality I was thinking she would be like DC Harley Quinn, Crazy but funny. For more details about Itsy Bitsy you may check out the link below

3.) Billie Morales from the Miles Morales: Spider-man comics Billie Morales is basically Miles Morales baby sister that was born when Miles is in High school. It would be interesting and fun to see how Miles tries to handle school, Spider-man and being a big brother. Plus, I'm sure the rest of the Spider-Gang would absolutely adore her, and Mayday would love to have a new playmate. See the link at the bottom for more details.

4.) New Agent Venom Variant In the Marvel Universe many people have taken up the mantle (and symbiote) of "Agent Venom" People like Flash Thompson, Eddie Brock, Anne Weying, Eugene Thompson, Even Peter Parker. But I have an idea for a new OC Agent venom and that person is Addy Brock. Now Addy Brock was a character in the "Edge of Spider-Geddon" comics. She was a student with Peni Parker and the pilot of the VEN#m suit. Unfortunately, she was killed when the VEN#M suit went rouge and consumed her along with Peni's Aunt May. I guess this was considered one of Peni's "Canon Events". It would be interesting to see how Peni would react to meeting a new Variant of her deceased friend with a perfect bond with her symbiote, since I'm going to assume Peni would have some form of PTSD with any kinds of symbiotes.

5.) Gwenpool from the Gwenpool comics because why not?

6.) The Guardians of the Galaxy

This one is mostly because hey, Space Adventure so why not you know?

that's all I have for now. Hope you find these ideas inspiring. In the Immortal words of Stan Lee

EXCELSIOR!!!

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderverse #atsv #story ideas #necroko #ellie ellison #venom comics #itsy bitsy #itsy bitsy marvel #billie morales #agent venom #addy brock #beyond the spiderverse #btsv #guardians of the galaxy #ultimate spider man #team up #gwenpool #gwen poole

[starkerhowlter]

Princess Parker -- Chapter 1

Rating: M Ship: starker (tony stark / peter parker) Tags: Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fashion Designer Peter Parker, Engineer Student Tony Stark, slow burn, stolen moments Summary: Tony Stark's in love.

But not with the conventional. Instead, his soulmate is known for temper tantrums about pink lemonades that are too sour and scuffs on the toe of his Louboutin shoes. He's materialistic, superficial, and cares way too much about his face.

So why can't Tony stay away? read it on AO3

It's finally time to post this. This fic has been a labor of love and I can't wait for you to fall in love with Princess Parker as much as I have.

Sit back, relax and cozy in and enjoy the world of Princess Peter Parker. ♥

Note: all underlined words are links to Tumblr-hosted images with added information for the fic -- As Always, this fic was beta'd by my favorite human in the world: @cozysafechaotic and I couldn't be more thankful! A special shout out as well to my sprinting goblins in the Super Starkers Discord for their believing in this fic and helping me through writing it and nailing down these crazy kids into their lovely selves. Thanks so much, guys!

Chapter 1: In Walks The Impossible

Tony doesn’t believe Bruce when he describes him. "There is no one on campus that looks like that. I'd have seen them. No one in their right mind dresses like that. Well, not anyone with self-respect." He kicks his leg up on the bench across from him, engineer-style boot blocking in Bucky and Steve. Bruce just shrugs, taking another fry from his plate and eating it.

Steve's arm lies on the back of the booth, fingers tangled in the ends of Bucky's hair. "No way, there's no one that could possibly look like--" Their words are cut off by the stark sound of heels clicking on the wood floor of the food court. Just as the boys look towards the door, in struts the impossible. His keys jingle in his hand, and the sound of his boots echo throughout the space. Behind him walks a girl with long brown hair, holding a tablet, taking notes as he talks.

"No way," Tony whispers to no one in particular, inhaling the sip of Coke he’d taken moments before. . The boy rolls his eyes as someone whistles at him across the food court. He turns to the girl, reapplying another coat of red lipgloss to his perfect mouth as they step in line at one of the counters. Tony can't take his eyes off of the boy's seemingly endless legs as he taps his expensive shoe impatiently.

"Earth to Stark! Come in Stark..." Bucky pokes, pushing the boy's foot off the bench. The sound of the impact causes the scientist to jump and snaps him out of his trance. "What was that about?"

"Sorry, I... I erm.... saw Pepper."

"You still have feelings for her?" Steve asks, sighing, "C’mon, man! I thought you were over her."

"I am." Tony dismisses, running his calloused hand through his hair. "I just.... she was wearing my jacket, that's all."

"Gotcha. Well, if she keeps bugging you, I can trade you spots and you can sit here so you don't have to see her. Or we can go back to my dorm?" Steve offers.

"Thanks, Steve. I'm fine here." Tony sighs deeply, his eyes keep finding the boy but he tries his hardest not to look.

As though a distraction sent from the gods, Sam and Clint walk up to the table. "Hey!" The former smiles, "What’re we talkin’ about?"

“Pepper’s wearing Tony’s old jacket and Steve thinks it’s bothering him, but he says it’s not. No big deal,” Bruce states plainly, “Y’know that that’s got monosodium glutamate right?” Bucky groans, head hitting the table.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Sam replies, shoving a fry in his mouth.

"Aaaaaall right, cuz that makes sense," Clint replies, pulling a chair up to the end of the table and straddling it backwards. The group digs into their lunches, and Tony's crush is forgotten about... for now.

-_–_-_

When he's walking to class two weeks later, the subject of his crush reappears. It's a miracle Tony hadn't noticed the boy before, but there, standing before him is one Peter Parker in an outfit that is so body-conforming it should be illegal. He's in a black ruched cropped shirt with tulle and lace sleeves, skin-tight white jeans, and "No way..." Tony murmurs, catching sight of the iconic red soles of Peter's heeled ankle boots as he's walking into class. In his shock, Tony hardly registers the overwhelming cloud of cologne that always seems to linger in the lecture halls and grabs a seat near the middle. Peter's claimed a desk, front and center, his entourage hanging on his every word as he leaned over the desk. His ass sticks out perfectly as he points to something on the other boy in the group's computer. Tony hears one of the girls squeal softly, which causes him to roll his eyes once again, turning away from their interactions and pulling his laptop out of his backpack. This is going to be a long semester.

"Alright," The professor begins, "Take your seats, please. Welcome to Biochemistry 3, today we're going to be discussing..." Tony checks out, watching the way the designer boy's pen glides across his tablet, taking what he assumes are precise notes of the curriculum's specs, and when all the due dates are. He startles as a folded paper appears on his keyboard, with his name written in curly script lettering. The lettering inside the note looks almost foreign. When he finally picks apart what it says, he reads “Stay away from our Princess.” Tony laughs under his breath, crumpling the paper and shaking his head at the redhead glaring from the front row. She raises her eyebrow as though to say ‘try me'. Peter laughs softly as the girl whispers something in his ear, biting his lip and glancing back at the boy in question. Tony half-smiles and winks at the boy, pretending not to notice the gentle blush that tints his cheeks.

-_–_-_

Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and likes are much appreciated!!

Chapter 2 will be up soon!

#shut up nika #starker #tony x peter

[dorian-they-ao3]

*watching the Avengers on YouTube*

Ned: *crunching popcorn* you really think you could take Iron Man?

Peter: *nods* totally.

Ned: awesome *sips his drink*

Peter: ..wait. you mean in a fight?

Ned: *chokes*

#Peter Parker’s crush is so big you can see it from space #a space crush #if you will #space crush #I’m making it a thing #incorrect starker quotes #starker #tony stark #peter parker #ned leeds #marvel #mcu #if you’re nothing without the queue then you shouldn’t have it

[luveline]

in the real world | tasm!peter parker x reader

"I thought I was safe in all your fantasies?" you mumble, smiling to yourself.

"I'm fighting them off for my own sake. I don't like to share, and every guy in New York wants a piece of you."

summary you notice something about spider-man during a violent villain showdown, then you have to save his life. [5.4k] warnings canon typical violence, bleeding, swearing, fluff, angst, hospitals, mutual pining, idiots in love, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader

~ Crammed into the same subway seat, you can safely say Peter Parker smells really, really nice. You're trying to work out what it is without asking. You're almost sure it's regular Old Spice but you just can't pin it. He's chatting about college, you're doing your best to listen. You've slowly turned in your seat enough to breathe him in rather than the rest of the subway and you keep getting distracted by it.

You fail to answer properly one too many times and his eyebrows are climbing.

"Sorry," you mutter. "Sorry, I'm listening."

"What's the matter?" he asks, and now your faces are so close you can see the light brown flecks bordering his pupil, can see how they slowly, slowly dilate.

You look at the space between his eyebrows and hope you don't look like a total freak.

"Nothing's the matter."

"Are you cold?" he asks, already weaselling his arm away from where it's crushed between you to set over your shoulder.

"A little," you say. You're lying, the subway is a furnace and you're wearing your winter coat. Anything for this extra closeness.

"Oh, woah!" he says, leaning in closer to your neck. You still, feeling a bead of sweat on your brow.

"What?" you ask, alarmed.

"Have you worn these before? They're very pretty," he says earnestly. You realise he's talking about your earrings, drop earrings with tiny, crystalline white flowers at the bottom. Each flower is made of four opal-like petals.

"I only just got 'em," you tell him. He smiles and looks back up into your face.

You feel your makeup, intricately done, shimmer white in the corners of your eyes and peony pink lip tint, melting away under his stare. You're more done up than usual and he can probably tell. You're not sure whether you want him to notice or not.

"They suit you," he says. You press your lips together to stop from smiling too hard and he chuckles.

You're seconds away from saying something stupid when the tanoy announces your stop and Peter's standing, so tall and so big, he takes up your whole point of view.

He's dressed well, dark jeans, a sweatshirt, a rugged brown jacket with the collar peaking up like a movie star. You stand, eyes at his mouth, and set about fixing it, touch firm but shy as you round his neck, fingers dusted by the soft strands of mousy brown hair at the back of his neck.

"There you go, Elvis."

"Thank you, thank you ver' much," he says, a dramatic and awful rendition of Elvis' voice.

It's his worst imitation to date and you laugh so loud you slap a hand over your mouth, bracelets slipping under your sleeves and jingling. You're so bedecked in shiny jewellery you ring when you walk like a belled house cat. He gets a look in his eyes, teasing, preying on your moment of weakness.

"Found that funny, did you?" he asks, voice smooth and smothered by the rattling carriage.

You nod, index finger pressed over your lips as the last of your giggles fade. He looks like he might say something, his lips parting, but the train slows and you're tasked with needling between the other passengers. Peter's a natural, out the doors and into the subway station like he was born wading through a New York crowd. You're less adept, too polite to push and too shy to say excuse me. Peter pauses two strides ahead when you're not at his side and shuffles back, reaching for your hand.

He pulls you out through the rush hour congregation and up, up, into the busy street that is Queens Boulevard. You've no clue why he gets off when you do; his walk home from your apartment is close to an hour and he must abhor it.

His hand is warm and big in yours. You squeeze his fingers.

"Pete," you say, trying to catch his attention.

He's peeking around the street like he's looking for something. He looks at you, looks at your hands, drops them.

"Why do you get off with me?" you ask him. He smirks and begins to speak when you correct yourself. "The subway! Why do you get on my line at all? You should be taking the 71."

He shrugs his shoulders. "And have you on the subway by yourself?"

"Hundreds of thousands of people do it every day."

He starts in the direction of your apartment building, purposefully dodging your point. "I'd rather spend the extra time walking than have something bad happen to you."

"How do you know something bad won't happen to you?" you ask pointedly.

He laughs like it's the funniest thing you could have said and that makes you feel both furious and dejected. You're not used to condescension from him. He sees your expression and jumps in to correct it.

"You're right, you're right: something bad could happen to me. But you gotta know I'd let it happen to me before I'd let anything happen to you."

It's not a compliment but it feels like one. It's awful, truly, that he'd put his own safety before yours, but it's also sweet enough to make your cheeks heat and your heart rate climb. A stellar feeling, to know he cares so much.

"I don't want you to get hurt protecting me," you say, sighing. "I mean, if somebody mugged us? I am genuinely scared of the stunt you'd pull."

You whisper around a woman bent over a parked pram trying to soothe a whimpering baby and end up with your left side to the road. Peter quickly drops back and encourages you over so he's in between you and the road. It's exactly the kind of stunt you're talking about — in what world could he stop a car from hitting you? It makes you giggle, a hint of derision hiding behind it.

He raises his eyebrows. "What kind of stunt? Do you think about this often? Am I jacked in your fantasy?"

"What, like in real life, you mean?" You're not even flirting, it's a certified fact, Peter Parker is a lean pillar of shifting muscle, even under his clothes. The broadness of his shoulders alone is enough to evidence his bulk.

"Totally missing the point. Tell me more about your fantasy, my damsel."

You're in half a mind to reach out and slap him upside the head.

"I'm no damsel."

"Pretty as one."

You glare at him, though the effect is likely lost from how happy your smile is.

"It's not a fantasy, and I don't think about it. Why, do you think about saving me?"

"No. In my fantasy you're always safe, likely living somewhere super peaceful like Norway or Switzerland-"

"New Zealand," you interject, nodding seriously.

"-and you glare at me way, way less," he says, nudging you with his elbow. Your jewellery clinks.

"That's unrealistic, then." You stutter before a big puddle and Peter grabs your arm before you can really think about it, helping you across. Your sneakers live to die another day.

"You're also a good cook, so yeah, it's very unrealistic." You glare at him. He smiles. "Good to see we're still in the real world."

"If that's your attitude I won't invite you up for coffee," you say.

He wrinkles his nose. "For coffee? What decade is this?"

"And what do you want instead?"

He rounds a corner. You stand at the opening of the last alleyway, a shortcut down into your own street. There's a group of people at the other end.

He pulls you into his side without saying a word and you're grateful for it as you start down the alley. The group looks up, one man sneers, another mutters something you can't hear. Peter has an awfully fierce look on his face with his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes downturned. It's gone as quick as it came - you come out the alleyway unscathed. His hold on you drops.

In the apartment, he still hadn't decided what he wants, laid out on your scratched up leather sofa with your TV remote in hand. You're honestly surprised he's still here.

"Nowhere to be tonight?" you ask him, fighting a losing battle with a saucepan of pasta in the kitchenette.

He sits up just enough to look at you over the back of the sofa and grins. "When do I ever have anywhere to be?"

"Are you kidding? You're always out somewhere. And out of breath when I call. You're not, like, in a gang, are you?" you ask, mostly joking.

"No, bub, I'm not in a gang. You know what I'm like, I waste a few hours skating and then I fall asleep at my desk."

You turn off the hob, poking at the sorry excuse for mac and cheese you’ve thrown together.

"Interesting texture," he says, once you've handed him a steaming bowl topped with extra cheese and breadcrumbs like he likes.

"I'm sorry," you say, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You've swapped your coat for a vest top with lacey edges and stayed in your jeans for decency's sake, though you're wondering if the right way to go is to just stand there in your underwear until he gets the message (if he wants to get that particular message).

"Don't be," he says, and he's serious. "One day I'll teach you how to simmer things without burning the bottom and it'll be over for everyone."

"Yes, I'm sure my ability to make pasta is really what's make-or-breaking me for people."

"Exactly. As soon as your fettuccine is carbon free I'll be on my knees," he jokes with you. The tiniest tip of his tongue pokes out as he channel surfs, concentrating hard.

"You said it was good, last time!"

His shoulders rise to his ears and he laughs, voice higher than usual as he says, "What?"

"Parker, I'm seriously getting to my wits end with you."

"Don't be like that," he says, spearing an elbow on his fork and reaching out to poke it. When it's proven to be soft he eats in and smiles. "You've got the flavours down, babe."

"It's Kraft's mac and cheese! There's nothing to get down!"

He raises his hands in a peaceable surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Forgive me, won't you? Please?"

You ignore him and turn to the TV, wondering if the burning on your neck throughout the evening when you're not looking is wishful thinking or if he's sneaking glances at you with the same frequency that you sneak your own.

-

On his knees, he says? Fine, if you have to make one perfect fucking fettuccine alfredo to get him to like you back, that's easy. That's child's play.

You wake up early on a Saturday morning and walk to your nearest local greengrocer for fresh parsley and then to the slightly bigger grocery store for fettuccine, double cream, butter and parmesan. You find yourself in the cosmetics aisle again and kick yourself for making such a fuss. You put down a bottle, shaking your head, and watch as the toner inside ripples. You pause, squinting, and then panic as the bottles begin to vibrate, the shelves rattle, and you can feel a pounding vibration in your feet.

You duck down just as the glass window front burst open, shards of glass raining down like hail stones in a fierce wind. You throw your arms up over your face and crouch, scared the shelves will collapse atop you and scared worse that you'll get cut. You feel a piece of glass flick past your arm and gasp. When you look down, a cut stretches from your wrist to your forearm, having sheared your blouse open.

The fabric is quickly saturated. You drop your groceries and watch as they roll over glass. A horrible screeching sound echoes and you hide behind a display housing a new mascara, trying to find the source of the sound.

Screams ring. Sobbing bounces between the aisles. A light is flickering and a sprinkler or water pipe has been maimed, water collecting in a seeping puddle. In the flickering lights, emergency red, it almost looks like blood.

You gasp as you grasp your own wrist, pressing the saturated fabric into the wound like it might help. You pull your sleeve down to assess the wound and get distracted at a commotion.

"It's Spider-Man!" someone shouts.

You let your shoulders relax. The masked vigilante who'd been keeping New York safe for years now was here. Whatever was happening - an earthquake? - Spider-Man could help.

"It's Spider-Man," someone else calls. The tenor of their voice sends shivers down your spine.

You propel yourself backwards again, away from the front of the store. A huge groaning and whirring of machinery sounds, and the voice begins talking again, ragged and booming through the aisles.

"Hiding, hiding," the voice says. "The incy wincy spider. I'm afraid this might be a hidey-hole you can't climb out of."

You steel your nerves and quickly dart to the next aisle. The glass hasn't corrupted the ground here. You crawl along quietly to the end of the aisle and peer through the shelves. A hulking machine stands in what was once the doorway of the store  and is now a great big gaping maw with glass shards and metal frames for teeth. It looks as if it's been pierced by a weight. You follow the trajectory, and there's a car, or what was once a car, smashed into the main display area of the store. Towers of Easter eggs and cuddly toys and paper towels, anything on special, have been knocked clean over. Stuffing and glass scattered over the floor, swimming in a puddle of water. The car is smashed completely at its front.

And there, underneath the car, is Spider-Man.

You gasp so loudly you scare yourself, throwing your hand over your mouth and your entire body backwards.

The car is slowly, slowly lifted up. A blur of red and blue climbs out.

You've seen Spider-Man have cars thrown at him. You've seen him swing into a burning building. You've seen him electrocuted and thrown up into the air like a baseball and you've seen him hit by the subsequent swing.

You haven't seen him bleeding out. That's definitely new.

As soon as he's out from under the car he's trying to get onto his feet and failing. The roaring machine can't fit in the building and for a moment he's safe, but the taunting man is furious.

"I'll rip this building open, you insect! Don't think I won't!" And then, to prove his point, a terrible ripping sound, a pitching of concrete. Things start to rain from above.

Spider-Man is lying on the ground on one elbow, hands pressed to the gash in his side. It's not the only cut. His thigh sobs blood as well, a crimson line of it streaking over the floor as he drags himself backwards. You can hear children screaming, a hissing, the whirring machine, a million things, but the panting, the injured panting of Spider-Man, is what pricks your ears.

That's Peter Parker. That's your Peter Parker.

He's crying, panicked weeping, and you've only heard it once before over the phone, but you can't forget that, and you won't. Your Peter Parker is in the Spider-Man suit bleeding out while you lie meters away huddled in fear.

The leg of the villain's machine creaks, stomps. The cookware begins tumbling from its shelves as though an aftershock has ripped through the store. You cry out as a boxed pressure cooker topples and you catch it haphazardly before it can hit you, tossing it away, blood everywhere, marring the silver of your bracelets and your skin and the floor around you.

When you look back Spider-Man is staring straight at you.

"Peter," you whine under your breath, scared, so scared, and it's too quiet for anyone to hear but he does, you know it, his shoulders tighten and he's pushing on to his feet and moving towards you quickly, a trail of bloody footsteps behind him.

He hooks his hands under your armpits and drags you up, past aisles of smashed baby food and exploded toiletries, hissing deodorant bottles and soaked clothing and then you're sliding into a door of the storeroom. The room is already populated by other store goers, most crying, none seemingly injured.

"Somebody, can somebody come and take care of her?" he asks the room, met with silence. He looks you up and down, his hand tight around your wrist. "It's not bad. It's bad, but it's not bad. It can, it-"

"Pe-" you clear your throat. "Spider-Man," you say quietly. "You can't go back out. Your leg- it's fucked," you say uselessly, your teeth beginning to chatter.

"He'll tear the store open."

"He'll tear you open."

"Why are you here?" he asks, tone more desperate than you've ever heard.

Then you really start to cry. "I was gonna make fettuccine alfredo," you say, feeling hot tears bubble out of you. You sob in panic and tear your arm out of his grip. The walls are shaking and somebody outside of the room is screaming, barrelling cries. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I have to go," he says.

"You can barely walk!"

"I have to go," he says again. "Stay here."

"I'm not staying here if you're leaving."

"Stay here!" he shouts at you. You flinch and the both of you stand in a second of silence.

"Something bad is going to happen to you," you say, shuddering.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to me, Y/N," and his saying your name is the full confirmation, the admittance; it's your Peter.

He runs out.

"Spider-Man!"

It'll happen to me before it happens to you, you think, and run out after him. You're no Spider-Man, you're slow and bleeding and you can't leap over rubble, and he's at the front and out into the street by the time you're in the aisles. You pick over your basket, your bag, picking up your discarded cell phone to slip it into your bra as you go.

The street has been cordoned off quickly, a rush job, police cruisers and flashing lights and a fire engine to one side. You climb out of the hole, slip into the depression made by the machine's hulking left leg and climb out again. There are more guns than you've ever seen pointed at the villain, and Spider-Man is held up in his grasp.

You gasp and scramble out of the hole, pulling yourself up. Your arm burns white fire as you climb and stumble onto the asphalt.

Peter escapes his hold.

You're not superpowered. You're not strong. You're not particularly smart. You need to be resourceful. You need to save Peter.

The machine is huge. This is obvious. Two fat legs on a steel plate body with a glass bubble hood. Peter flips up, webs a building, bounces back. He's trying to smash the glass, you realise, but his leg is too injured to carry the force of it.

You scour the street. He needs to smash the glass and he's too busy fending off the machine's rubber hose arms to think about it. He's running out of time, spins sluggish, dives a whisper too slow. He keeps getting caught up in the arms and squirming out.

You flicker between him and your surroundings, your heart in your mouth.

There, a traffic sign, bent and almost broken. You grab at it with your slippery hands and pull. Your fingers slide, painting half dry streaks of pink over the silver pole.

You rub your hands in your sweatshirt and try again, pushing your whole weight on the pole, heaving back and forth. It snaps and you fall forward, clipping your chin on the ground, arms squished underneath your body. It hurts.

You roll off of the sign and look up into the sky, breathing hard, tucking your bleeding arm to your chest. The sky moves in circles, birds fly overhead. There's a helicopter humming, quiet as a dragonfly. The sirens are dulled, the villain's machine falls silent. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears and your heartbeat in your chest. The floor vibrates beneath you, almost soothing.

Then it comes back into focus. A million sounds, a million hurts.

You gasp and sit up, back aching. Peter is on top of the opposite building, arching over the arms, rolling like a wave. They're undeniably slow but pack enough force to fling him out if they catch him - one hits his legs from under him and he careens down into the ground towards you, snowballing the asphalt underneath him. A meteorite striking the earth.

He lies unmoving in his body's crater.

"Spider-Man!" you scream, loud enough to make your own ears burn.

He doesn't stir.

"Spider-Man! Spider-Man! Spider-Man!" Everything in you wants to say Peter. Peter, Peter Parker. Everything in you is begging him to get up. "Get up right now!" you yell, almost hysterical, words sounding more like a joke than anything.

He finally snaps into full consciousness again. The machine crunches towards you both. You rise and drag the pole toward him, the sign still attached to the top. Peter rolls on to his side and peels up the mask, blood pumping down his face. He dry heaves.

Your back burns as you drag the sign. It leaves a while line in the asphalt where it grinds, scratching a deep, scathing line.

You drop it a foot from him and fall to your knees, taking his face into your hands.

"Are you alright? You need to get up, can you get up? Peter, can you get up?"

He hisses, the sound deeply etched with pain.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I got you a sharp," you say.

He frowns and his head tilts up as he gazes over your shoulder. His lips press together in understanding. Helicopter blades whir from above as they close in and a crowd of people roar on either side of the barricade in warning while the villain grows nearer and nearer.

"I told you to stay there," he says, furious, voice speckled with pain and exhaustion.

"I'm no damsel, remember?" you ask, half false cheer and half terror, wiping blood from his nostrils, from his lips, to tuck the mask back down to cover his face.

He rises to his feet and pulls you up by your shoulders, dusting you down pointlessly, tucking your hair behind your ears. Your flower drop earrings wobble. "You're pretty as one," he says, masked hand touching your bleeding chin for a split second, then his hands grab your face tight enough to hurt, each word careful. "I'm gonna beat the bad guy. You need to run, as fast as you can, towards the barricade. Run now, Y/N." He turns you around and pushes. You look back and watch as he picks up the broken sign, shoulders set.

You run on numb legs. The ground trembles beneath you. Your legs burn and rubble sprays and a police officer is screaming at you, arms pulling you over the metal barricade and into a crowd of people. Somebody ushers you to sit on the ground. You gasp fast and shallow and cover your eyes with your hands. The crowd shouts and you try to stand. You falter. You fall.

-

Peter's sleeping. There's not a single drop of blood to be found on him, no rusty scabs, no bruises. He looks angelic if a bit tired, hands wrapped around your hand and face pressed into the white, pristine sheets of your bed. He's angled away from your bandage.

The other arm is cannula'd, you discover, when you try and probe your stiff chin. The IV pulls, a sharp pain. You wince and drop your hand. They're obviously not giving you painkillers in the drip.

You squint at the IV suspiciously. What the fuck is it for? And as you remember – the sounds, the pain, the fear – your heart climbs.

Peter flinched awake and blinks hard. "Y/N," he says. "Hey, hey, what's the matter?" he asks.

You shake your hand. His chair scrapes across the floor as he stands, hands skipping over your bandage to run over your arms. You've been handled into a pair of pajamas, ones you've never seen before. Peter pushes his fingers under the short sleeve and squeezes your shoulder lightly. "You're okay, you're okay. Try and calm down."

You frown at him and again try to move the wrong arm. You wince as it tugs.

"Do I have to have that?"

"I'm not sure. It's fluids."

You nod and pull the cannula clean out of your own hand. Peter cringes and takes your hand, pressing his clean sleeve to the bubble of blood that trickles out. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs.

"Are you okay?" you ask him.

He raises his chin defensively. "Am I okay? Which one of us is in the hospital right now?" You frown, your eyes burn and he sighs. "Sorry."

You sniffle.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, "so sorry. For everything."

You sniffle again and he hangs his head, tending to your bleeding hand like it's fatal.

"If you don't want to see me anymore, I get that."

You bite your tongue between your teeth and exhale hard. It hurts as you move, shuffling over to the far side of the bed. It's obvious what you're asking. Peter climbs into the bed and lies next to you, and you both stare up at the hospital ceiling without talking. It's quieter here, no screaming, no crying. There's only his breathing and yours.

His shoulder is warm next to yours.

"Whose clothes are these?" you ask him.

"They're yours."

"Never seen them before," you croak.

"I got them for you. From Nordstrom."

"You hate Nordstrom."

"It was closer than your apartment. And I couldn't get in anyhow, and I really needed you to have clean clothes, and-" he cut himself off, pitch rising.

"Thank you, Peter."

You lie in silence again.

You want to ask him if he won, but you know he'd be dead if he lost. You want to ask him if he's healed but you know he is. You want to ask him how he's feeling and the words stay tucked neatly behind your teeth.

"I thought you might die," you say eventually.

His breath catches in his throat. He turns his head and you turn yours at the sound of his movement, the crisp crunch of hospital linen under his shifting.

"You saved me," he said.

"I didn't."

"You did. There's… there's videos." He closes his eyes. He's pale. Whether it's the awful gray New York morning light or the blanching white of the hospital room or his bone deep exhaustion, you can't say.

"Young woman saves Spider-Man, City rejoices."

You frown at him.

"Woman rouses our masked vigilante in dire straits and saves hundreds."

"What?"

"Spider-Man owes his latest showdown victory to unnamed woman, more on page 3."

"Peter, what are you talking about?"

"That's what the newspapers are saying."

You close your eyes and try to cope with what he's telling you. His knuckles rub up your thigh, searching for your hand, your injured arm. He pulls your arm onto his abdomen like he's cradling it and let's his body push up against yours.

"They're wrong."

"How'd you figure?" he asks.

"I didn't save Spider-Man. I wasn't worried about him."

"You did, sweetheart," he says, lips by your hair. He puts his hand on your face, careful of your stitched up chin, fingers over your cheekbone. His hand is all encompassing, a comfort, as he turns you to face him.

"It's Peter Parker I was looking out for," you say. You're tired and thirsty and your head and arm are both pounding at the same time, a painful pulse, and you know your words are half coherent at best.  You hope he knows what you mean.

"I'm so angry at you," he whispers, an admission. "I'm so angry. I told you to stay there and you didn't listen and you could have died."

"That's a little rich, don't you think? I've watched you almost die on TV a thousand times," you say lightly.

He takes his hand back from your jaw to scrub over his face and looks up at the ceiling. You trace his angry brow with your eyes, his frown.

"I know I lied to you," he says.

"You did."

"But I did it so something like this wouldn't happen. So you would be safe," he says, agitated.

You blink the white spots out of your vision and sigh morosely. An orderly bustles past the open door with a trolley of things. A fly charts a course around the room for the hundredth time. You want him to cuddle you, and you want to sleep, but you know he won't rest until he says what he needs to.

"And I can't work it out."

"What out?" you ask hoarsely.

"How long have you known? I never would've guessed in a hundred years that you knew."

"I didn't know," you say honestly.

"What?"

"I didn't know. That you're-" you whisper the next bit, "Spider-Man."

"Then how did you know it was me, in the store?"

You sigh, pained, and he rushes to shush you, pulling you onto his chest. You refuse to protest even though everything aches dully, curling your legs, though you can't hug him because he's holding your cut arm hostage. You don't mind, content as his arm comes around you to pull you flush.

"You were crying. I knew it was you. I know what you sound like," you continue to whisper, feeling like this is a secret. "You sounded scared and… and hurt. I don't think I could forget how you sound when you're scared."

"I was terrified," he admits, whispering back.

You don't know what to say to that. You were terrified too.

"Do I look cute? On the news?" you ask.

He hums, tightening his arm around your body, and kisses you on the forehead. The place where his lips touch feels warm for a long, long time. His hand draws lazy circles into your vest top.

"Cute? Nah." You frown in disappointment. He chuckles, the vibrations of it moving in your neck. "You looked beautiful. Beautiful and formidable, really, blood and all. I'll be fighting guys off left, right and centre."

"I thought I was safe in all your fantasies?" you mumble, smiling to yourself.

"I'm fighting them off for my own sake. I don't like to share, and every guy in New York wants a piece of you."

You giggle, looking up at him with bright eyes as best as you can manage with one arm out of action. He helps you up onto his front, arm firm and strong at your back, until you’re chest to chest, supporting yourself with one shaky forearm.

He pushes the hair out of your face. "I found your earring," he says.

"I was missing one?"

"For a little while."

You let your head rest on his sternum and sigh a breath of relief. "So everything worked out, then."

"Everything worked out," he agrees, bringing his hand up to the back of your head.

"Do I still need to learn how to make fettuccine alfredo for you to like me back?" you murmur into his chest.

"No, baby," he says softly, carding through your hair with all tenderness. The word baby is so meltingly warm you feel it run over you in a wave. "I think my fondness for you can transcend even your inability to make the most simple pasta dish in all of human history," he says wryly, two parts dry and two parts loving.

"Awesome," you say, and pass out to the sensation of his lips pressed chastely to the top of your head. <3

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ tasm taglist @pomminine @isabelleonabicycle @decafcoffew @runawaywithmyghost @joebobisachickenfart

#the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfiction #andrew garfield spiderman x reader #Webb-verse

[takenbyheartstrings]

ONE BED

summary: Its the one bed trope, but you and peter don't like each other and the avengers are determined to change that, so they set you and peter up for what could be success or what could be failure.

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader.

warnings: angst (not really)???, fluff, swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, and finally SMUT.

authors note: sorry if this is a little cringworthy, it's 12am and i am tired.

Natasha walked into the kitchen of the Avengers Compound, heaving a large breath, letting out a sigh catching Tony, Bucky, Steve, Wanda and Bruce's attention.

"What was that for?" Steve questioned as he noticed Natasha's somewhat annoyed appearance.

She shrugs, "They hate each other, they hate each other and I wanna know why."

Bucky laughs, "Not this shit again."

"Yes this shit again, Y/n and Peter clearly like each other, but I don't know why they have it in for each other."

"Or maybe they just don't like each other, that's possible Nat." Bucky lets a little glare.

Tony's voice perks up, "Uhhhh, I don't know about that. They always catch second glances at each other, when the other's not looking. It's cute." Tony couldn't believe he was talking about two eighteen year olds, but you two clearly liked each other.

Bruce let out a hum, "How about, we force them into a situation where they can't escape each other. We have to go down to Washington in a few days for the new training facility, so it's the perfect cover anyway. Instead of bunking Peter with Sam and Bucky, maybe we can bunk him in with Y/n."

Natasha and Wanda nod, "That's not a totally bad idea," Wanda tries not to grin; she's seen the way the two of you pine over each other like lovesick puppies. It really was cute.

"So we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is against their will and they might hate each other more than before and you guys are willing to place on the fence based on a hunch." Bucky speaks rationally, "Besides, the kid scares easily, you'll just be taking away the fun from Sam and I."

Everyone in the room trades a glance and then looks back at him, "Yeah." They all spoke at once.

It was settled. This little side mission was happening.

You sighed as you made your way into the conference room, the mission in Washington was a big one for you - and for Peter. But you needed to be prepared for anything, but nothing could prepare you for the news you were about to hear.

"Alright, I've got our roommates for the trip ready." Tony stated as he started listing off names, you were confused as to why you weren't with Wanda like usual. "Okay and Y/N and Peter."

"WAIT WHAT?" You almost screamed standing up.

"I can't be that bad. Can I?" Peter's lip quirked into a smirk.

You rolled your eyes as they turned a shade of red at his annoyance, "Well you clearly can."

"Don't get all glitter eyes on me." Peter chuckles, as Bucky can't help but snicker, your head snaps toward him as he then backs off.

Steve puts a hand your arm and he beckons you to sit down. You do so trying to calm down.

"Hey look," Tony sighs, "Sorry kids, but that's just how it is. Two people per room and you guys just happened to be last pick."

Peter sighs, "Whatever, the sooner we get it over with the better." He rolls his eyes walking out of the room. You followed but before leaving, you used your powers to lift Tony's coffee cup and spill it on his lap.

"Real mature!" He calls after you.

"I'm eighteen, get over it!" You yelled back before going to your room and slamming the door behind you.

Everyone was right, you did have a crush on Peter. You really liked him. But you were also so jealous of him. You were jealous of his smarts, his looks. Practically everything about the boy.

So much so, that you fantasised about him. You touched yourself thinking about him - and so did he. You both liked each other, but it was so hard to admit it because you were both jealous of each other, for the same reasons. You honestly didn't know how you were going to get through the night with Peter in the same room as you. You didn't know if it was going to be a paradise or a nightmare.

The next night you got to the hotel, "All right guys, time to get settled in, we have a big day of training tomorrow. Go get rested, goodnight." He waves walking off with his key. Sam and Bucky take theirs, Bruce and Steve take theirs, Nat and Wanda take theirs and You and Peter are left standing there.

"Look I'm too tired to argue, so can we just... not?" You questioned Peter.

"That's fair," He gives an awkward smile, "Since you start them all," He mutters under his breath, quiet enough so that you don't hear it.

You both made it up to the room to be met with a sight, "Wow. One bed, like this could get any worse." You sighed.

"Really. Truely can't. I thought to myself 'Nothing's worse than having to share a room with you,' but now there's one bed and I'm not giving it up."

"Well neither am I, guess we'll share." You give a harsh glare. You set your duffle bag down next to the left side of the bed and grabbed your pyjamas and made your way to the bathroom, it was a pair of shorts and a tank top. You were so reluctant to wear a bra. But you were nervous considering that Peter was in the other room. You opted not to deciding it wasn't worth the pain.

You walked out of the bathroom and Peter met eyes with you, lingering over your body, he loved looking at every part of you, the way your nipples came through your shirt and how perfect your tits were. How perfect your thighs were. How beautiful you looked. He didn't say anything but the room was filled with a tense silence. Peter walked into the bathroom and changed, he walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pants. Your eyes made contact with his biceps, his abs. You never realised how strong Peter actually was, you always fantasised about him like this but your fantasy was now a reality. You swore you could feel yourself getting a little wet, just thinking about what Peter could do to you.

You sighed getting into the covers at Peter did the same, the two of you were lying back to back with a large chunk of space between the two of you. You let out a little sigh, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you had announced.

"Alright," Peter said timidly, letting you know he was awake.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, splashing yourself with cold water. You knew you shouldn't feel this way. Not now. Why now? Why when he was here? You splashed yourself in the face one last time before opening the door and you met Peter's eyes.

"Peter I-," You started.

"I like you." Peter said nonchalantly.

"I-I like you too."

It was quick, but finally Peter's lips landed on yours and never left. You were actually the one to deepen the kiss. You felt Peters tongue slide into your mouth in one swift movement. His hands trailed up your shirt as you were pinned against a wall, he could feel your tits get hard as a chill went down your spine from the touch of his cold hands. Breaking the kiss for a moment - he lifted your shirt over your head as he started trailing kisses down your neck, you let out a heavy moan. Peter smirked against the kisses, as he trailed further down your body, licking and sucking on your nipples, his tongue making circles around them.

"Fuck, Peter." You groaned softly as the two of you then moved to the bed, you could see a bulge in Peter's pants. You slid them down as you were met with his dick, a smirk took place on your face as he sat back against the headboard.

You decided to have your way with Peter, kissing and sucking on his tip. Until you finally placed your whole mouth around it, bobbing your head up and down on his cock. You took your mouth off of it before wrapping your hand around it and slapping it onto your tongue. You could hear Peter groan heavily, "Fuck, Y/n, just like that." His words came out as hot flashes as you moved your hand up and down his dick, rubbing it.

You couldn't take it anymore, you wanted to feel Peter. You moved up to kiss him again, but before you could Peter looked at you, “Every time you made me angry I fantasised about the things I would do to you and now I finally get to do them," He smirked.

You couldn't say anything else, you just let the moment get a hold of you. You kissed him again and it was like you could feel the electricity sparking in the air between the two of you. His kisses were hungry and desperate and sweet. You were lucky to be in his arms tonight, you were lucky to be fucked by someone like him. Someone caring. Someone genuinely sweet. Even if you hadn't seen what that side of him was even like, you knew he was.

You felt your breath hitch against the air as Peter removed your shorts, and yet he could see the patch of wetness on your underwear. You swore you could hear him get hungry at the sight, Peter didn't say anything, but he removed the garment blocking him from all of you. You were naked in front of him and he was loving every minute of it. His tongue entered your pussy as he sucked and licked your clit, moving his tongue up and down your pussy. He was hungry for you and only you.

Peter finally looked up at you as you moaned softly, your back arching a little as he pleased you with his tongue, "Peter I want you, please." You said desperately.

"As you wish," Peter said huskily as he slid his dick into your wet hole and boy did that hit the spot. Sliding in and out of you, every single moan was like a godsend, like music to hears ears. You were shaking under him.

"Peter you can go rougher than that," You spoke through a strained moan and Peter could. Your bodies flowed together, the mattress moving underneath the two of you, slamming the headboard with every thrust. Each moan that came out of your mouth got higher and higher, letting Peter know you were almost at your edge. Peter continued to move in and out of you.

"Fuck Pete, I'm almost there," You whimpered softly, "Fuck!"

He smirked against you, pulling out his dick and replacing it with his mouth. His tongue moved in and out just like his whole body had and you finally reached your peak.

"FUCK PETE!" You moaned once more as your body finally relaxed.

You took a hold of Peter's dick and started rubbing it again, he moaned quietly, "Fuck, yeah, just like that, that's my girl." Peter murmured. You smirked before placing your mouth over his cock and moving your head up and down once more, wrapping your hand around it while you also moved your head.

"Fuck that's it, that's it." Peter groaned, "Fuck Y/n, I'm gonna cum." Peter said as you moved your head faster and faster, ready to take on his load and that's when you could finally feel it, the sticky, white liquid in your mouth as you let it dribble back onto his cock, before licking it off his tip and letting it fall again, tasting the excess that was left in your mouth.

You let yourself fall back next to Peter as you got back underneath the covers with him, your naked bodies lying together intertwined.

"You have no idea how much I've thought about doing that with you," You laughed quietly, "I always hated you because you're everything I'm not Peter, but I was too quick to judge. I was wrong, wrong about most of it, almost all of it."

"Me too, Y/n, me too. I always wanted to be like you, but I see now that we have our differences and that's okay, but now we can work on that. Together." Peter spoke.

"Does that mean," You smiled against his chest.

"Yeah, it does."

"Well in that case, I really liked it when you said I was your girl," You smiled up at him, "That was really hot."

The two of you ended up falling asleep, in each others arms, feeling nothing but happiness. The two of you knew now that there was no reason to hate each other. There was no reason you couldn't be with each other.

The next morning you slid on a training bra and tights, reading for the day of training Tony had told all of you to get rest for, "Well don't you look good." Peter said wrapping his arms around your waist placing a kiss on your lips.

"I could say the same for you," You said feeling the biceps that were exposed because of his muscle tee. You and Peter walked down to the lobby with his arm wrapped around you, the rest of the group looked at the two of you surprised.

"You two look cosy," Wanda smiled.

Bucky batted an eye for a moment surprised that the plan the group had set out actually worked, "Wow, yeah, you guys do, what happened?"

"Oh we just talked, and we just confessed our feelings and now we're together." Peter explained.

Natasha let a painful look shine through, "You sure you guys just talked, it's not like the walls are soundproof."

The two of you blushed, "I- we- you- heard- what?" You were flustered you didn't know what to say. Peter just stood there in shock.

The rest of the group laughed walking off, "C'mon guys, the facility is ready for us, might as well make the best of it," Tony chuckled walking off as the rest of you followed, Peter placing a kiss on your head as you did.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker x reader imagines

[fanficimagery]

When Enough is Enough pt. I

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 7.7K

Sometimes when you had a moment to yourself, you often found yourself looking back on how easy things were when you were just in high school. College wasn't a walk in the park, but it did somewhat prepare you for the real world after school. And with you now being a nurse and Peter still doing the superhero gig, you and your best friend hardly had time for each other which left you feeling bummed about it.

But you've finally taken a much needed two week vacation and you couldn't wait to dress in sweats and drink the night away.

Grabbing some fruit from your refrigerator, you set it all out on the counter and get to work. The strawberries need washing and to be sliced, but the black berries and blueberries are fine with just a quick wash. You grab one of the beer mugs from your kitchen cabinets and fill it a little less than halfway with ice. You toss in some strawberry slices, black berries and blueberries. Then turning to the refrigerator, you grab the Malibu Coconut Rum and the Minute Maid Berry Punch. You pour about three shots of the rum into the glass, followed by another three shots of the punch. Then grabbing a Smirnoff Ice Original, you twist off the lid and place the bottle upside down in your mug.

Satisfied with your drink for the time being, you shove a straw into your mug and take it with you as you walk over to your sofa. You groan happily as you take your first sip and then settle down to binge watch some shows you need to catch up on.

Halfway done with your drink, your apartment door opens but you already know who it is since there's only one person with a spare key. Peter jumps over the back of the couch, landing next to you and stealing your mug from your hands. He takes a long sip, grinning as he hands it back over to you. "That drink is dangerous. Tastes too good to stop just at one."

"Hence the reason why I'm drinking it, Parker." You clutch the mug between your hands once more, leaning out of his reach when he makes a grab for it again. "I'm on vacation and I plan to drink until I can no longer keep my eyes open. Hands off."

"Mean. And here I was going to invite you to a party." You freeze mid-sip and raise an eyebrow at your best friend. Peter smirks. "We've both been kind of busy and now that you're on vacation I figured I'd ask and see if you want to be my plus one for Tony's party."

Your lips purse. "Hmm. What kind of party?"

"A normal one?" He shrugs. "It's just the team and close friends of the team. Everyone needs to decompress and they decided to do that with drinks and music."

"Fine. I'm game. But you're packing up the fruits and all my beer mugs, and then we're stopping by the liquor store and Quick Mart to pick up more Smirnoff, Rum and Berry Punch."

"Y/N," he chuckles. "Tony's got drinks there."

"Yeah, but does he have all the ingredients to make my favorite drink?"

"Uh, probably not?"

"Exactly. So chop, chop! Pack it up while I change into clothes worthy of being out in public."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

As you ride the elevator up to the upper floors of Stark Tower, you're at complete ease. Anyone in your position would be a nervous wreck, but you've heard enough stories about them from Peter that you're not.

As the elevator dings open, you and Peter step out with your arms full of bags. Almost immediately, you're approached by Tony Stark. "Parker, you sly dog! It's about time we meet the girlfriend." You and Peter snort, and immediately try to deny his claims, but he bulldozes right over you. "What's with the alcohol? I got everything you could need here."

"First off," you muse, elbowing Peter aside, "I'm the best friend, not the girlfriend." Tony's eyebrows raise before he chuckles. "And secondly, I was already drinking this at my apartment before Peter asked me to come with him. I doubt someone with expensive tastes such as yours has Minute Maid punch and Smirnoffs sitting in the fridge."

"Point," he gestures to you. "Well welcome. Any friend of Peter's is a friend of ours. And I see you got blueberries so I want one of whatever you're making."

"Sure thing, Stark, but just know this was something we came up with in college."

Peter gestures for you to follow him when Tony gets called away and you keep close to him as he leads you to the kitchen. He finds an empty space along the kitchen island and the two of you work on unloading the bags.

"Get me three mugs of ice," you tell him. Peter takes three mugs to put some ice in as you open the containers of fruit. You earn a few curious glances, but you merely grin and nod, and continue to twist open bottles and cartons. Then once you've assembled everything, you toss the fruits into each mug and start pouring the shots of rum and berry punch into them. You put one Smirnoff upside into the first mug and hand it off to Peter. "Take that to Mr. Stark. I'll assemble ours."

Peter grins and heads off, doing as you've said.

You get the remaining two poured very easily and Peter rejoins you just as you insert the straws. Taking his own mug as you pick up yours, you clink your drinks together before taking the longest sip you can. When you need to breathe, you let go of the straw first and Peter fist pumps in victory. "Dick," you mumble.

Two females approach- one with a shy demeanor whereas the other one has a very energetic vibe about her. You're proven correct when she says, "Hey new girl, are you the one making the Smirnoff drinks?"

You nod. "Yeah."

"Mind making one for me and friend here? Stark won't share." You chuckle and nod again. "I'm Darcy, by the way, and this is my friend Wanda."

"Y/N." You introduce yourself as Peter grabs two more mugs to put ice in. "I'm that idiot's best friend," you say while gesturing to Peter's back.

"I heard that!"

"Well I wasn't whispering it." He mockingly pouts at you over his shoulder and you laugh some more.

"Damn. We owe Sam and Bucky twenty bucks."

You glance at Darcy as she begrudgingly starts pulling money out of her back pocket and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda who's grinning. "We thought you were Peter's girlfriend." Her accent makes your smile widen. "Sam and Bucky said there was no way Parker got a girlfriend as beautiful as you."

Your eyes widen and the seemingly shy girl laughs aloud. "Wait, what?" You nervously chuckle. "I'm not drunk enough to be taking compliments from pretty boys like them."

"Boys." Darcy snorts. "Don't let them hear you call them that. They'll be determined to show you how manly they are then."

Peter sets down the mugs in front of you before taking his back up. "You good here? I want to go say hi to some people."

"Go." You shoo him away. "Go mingle. I'm fine."

"Yeah, Spidey. She's good. We'll keep her company," Darcy says. "Go away now."

Peter frowns and you can't resist pinching his cheek, cooing softly at him. "I'm a big girl, Petey. I'll be around. Plus you're walking me home, remember?"

"Fine." He gently swats your hand off his face as you laugh at him. "But please stay with the girls, and don't listen to anything Sam or Bucky says. They're mean to me."

"I'll try my best. Now go away. I have drinks to make."

As Peter leaves with his drink in tow, you finish making both Darcy and Wanda theirs. They happily accept them when you slide the mugs in front of them, groaning in delight after they take their first sip.

"Come on. Lets go get comfortable with the boys and Nat," Darcy says. "Kick off your shoes though. We're sitting in the pit."

You glance around for a place to kick off your shoes until Wanda gestures you towards the corner where other pairs of shoes lie. Then following them over to what they've deemed the pit, you walk down the carpeted stairs and take a seat near Wanda as Darcy hands over some money to Sam.

"Ha!" Sam laughs. "Knew that little twerp couldn't land a lady as fine as her."

Your nose wrinkles at the compliment and Wanda laughs. "Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, that's Natasha, Sam and Bucky." She points to each respective individual as she names them and you nod at each of them. "Y/N also doesn't take compliments well."

"It's weird." You're quick to defend yourself, sheepishly shrugging. "I don't like being put on the spot."

Darcy plops down between Bucky and Wanda. "Well too bad. You are a beautiful woman who makes fantastic drinks." She wraps her lips around the straw to sip some more. "Janie is going to be pissed she missed these."

You chuckle and start sipping your own drink.

"So how do you know Spider-Boy?" Sam asks.

"Uh, we grew up together," you say. "I lived next door to his uncle Ben and aunt May, and when he moved in with them we were just drawn together. Been best friends ever since."

"Never once hooked up?"

You splutter at Darcy's question. "N-No!"

"You're lying." Bucky's eyes squint at you and resist the urge to flip him off. After all, you only just met him.

"I'm really not. There might've been a slight crush once upon a time, but no. No hookups."

Natasha grins at you before sipping her beer. "You're a great liar." You gasp in mock offense.

"Who didn't hook-up?" Peter lands next to you, his arm going around the back of your shoulders.

Darcy waggles her eyebrows at you and you snort. "Apparently all your friends-" Bucky and Sam scoff, "and co-workers think you and I have hooked up."

Peter laughs. "Well there was that one time-"

"Peter!"

"WHAT?!" Sam and Darcy shout.

"Knew it." Natasha preens at being right.

You swat at Peter's chest repeatedly. "Dick. I just finished telling them we hadn't."

"What? But how?!" Darcy wonders. "You had me believing you when you said you didn't hook-up. You had Bucky believing it!"

"Y/N is a phenomenal liar," Peter muses. "We got away with so much in high school."

You crack a grin then, you and Peter sharing a fist bump. "Way to make me sound like I lie all the time." Then looking out at those in the conversation pit, you say, "I don't lie on the important stuff. Just the stupid stuff that got us out of school or whether or not Peter and I hooked up. His girlfriends are usually intimidated by me so I had to convince them Petey and I never slept together."

"Are you two.. together?" Wanda then wonders, but you and Peter shake your heads. "How do you remain such good friends afterwards?"

You shrug. "We know each other's deepest secrets. We won't ever not be friends."

"Hold on. Let's get back to the lying thing," Bucky says. "Give me two truths and one lie. I wanna see if you can do that again. And stare me straight in the eyes when you say it."

Sam snorts as you and Peter laugh. "Okay. Hold on. Let me think." You take a moment to think of the three things you're going to say. When you figure it out, you meet Bucky's steely gaze head on. "I was engaged once. My sister married my ex-boyfriend. I swam with sharks where a young shark took a chunk out of my side."

Everyone seems to hold their breath and you can't help but smirk when Bucky's eyes narrow. After a brief moment, he says, "The sister and the ex-boyfriend. While you seem young, being engaged is believable. As is the shark. But there's no way a sibling would marry another sibling's ex."

Your smirk falls and Bucky grins victoriously, only for Peter to burst out laughing. You follow soon after. "If this were a drinking game, you'd have to take a shot."

"What? No way!" Sam exclaims. Bucky looks grumpy once more and Natasha looks impressed.

Peter nods. "It's true. Y/N dumped him for being clingy and not wanting her to speak to me, and he went crawling to her sister months later. They married a couple years after that."

"And you were okay with that?" Wanda frowns.

"I was fine with their relationship. It's not like I was in love with the guy," you admit. "I just hated that she moved him in with us. It made our already cramped apartment even more cramped, which then led to lots of sleepovers at Peter's."

"So that's when the hook-up occurred." You grab a couch pillow and throw it at Sam who catches it with a laugh. Darcy pats Bucky on the shoulder and Sam laughs at his expression. "Well if that wasn't the lie, what was? The engagement?"

"Oh no. I was engaged." You laugh. "For about a month before I realized I didn't actually wanna spend the rest of life with an idiot."

"The lie was the shark bite," Peter tells them. "Y/N's is terrified of the ocean. She can only make it into ankle deep water before she starts to panic."

"Well the ocean is huge!" You defend yourself. "Have you seen those documentaries with the strange noises and shadows at fuck thousand feet below? No thank you."

The group sitting around you all laugh. You decide to get more comfortable then, angling yourself towards Peter and throwing your legs across his lap. He doesn't bat an eye, instead he just raises his arms and sets them back down atop your legs, his free hand tapping a random rhythm on your knee.

The conversation flows easy after that, Tony dragging Clint, Steve and Bruce to be introduced. Once everyone is seated, the group waste no time in asking what it is you do after you refuse to offer up any embarrassing stories about a pre-teen Peter. Darcy is snapping pictures every now and then, getting your Instagram username afterward so she can tag you in a few of the ones she was posting. And when you get the notification on your own phone, you go through liking the photos and following back Darcy, Wanda, Sam and Bucky who had all followed you.

Not even five minutes after of the pictures being posted does Peter's phone ring. You hear his sudden intake of breath and you glance at the screen, your smile dimming at the name and picture there. "Take it," you murmur. He quickly glances at you and you remove your legs from his lap. "It's been what, a couple of months since you last spoke with her? Take it."

Peter grins and then hurriedly stands up, answering the phone call on his way to a quieter portion of the room. Your newly found friends look at you and you paste on a smile. "It's his on again/off again girlfriend. Darcy posted a picture of Petey and I, and I have no doubt in my mind Leslie saw it."

"So she called him?" Steve frowns.

"Yep. And if Petey's still wrapped around her little finger, he'll be leaving in five, four, three, two- and there he goes." You all watch as Peter rushes towards the elevator, a little excited skip to his run. "It never fails. She doesn't necessarily want to be tied down to Peter, but she'll be damned if Petey and I have a good time together."

"Well that's shitty," Darcy mumbles.

"Preaching to the choir, D." You go to sip your drink, only to realize it's empty. You sigh. "And I need a refill."

"Ohh. Me too!" Tony holds his mug up in the air and Darcy grabs it with a laugh.

She and Wanda follow you into the kitchen, and you waste no time in preparing all four drinks once again. Then when the three of you make it back to the conversation pit, Pepper Potts has finally joined the party. Tony is quick to make her try his drink after Darcy hands it off to him, and you can't help but laugh when she wants to keep it for herself. Tony quickly introduces the two of you and then once again Sam and Bucky are needling for anything embarrassing on Peter.

"Knock it off. I'm not going to do Peter dirty like that."

"You mean like he did you dirty by bringing you to this party and then leaving you for another girl?"

"Oh shit."

Everyone goes quiet, eyes wide as they glance between you and Bucky. "Low blow, Barnes. Just for that, you ain't ever getting anything out of me for blackmail on Peter."

The conversation picks up again, you glaring at Bucky every now and then as he smugly grins at you. Steve, Tony, Clint and Bruce end up wandering off again which leaves you, Wanda, Darcy, Pepper, Natasha, Sam and Bucky in the conversation pit.

It's been nearly an hour since Peter has disappeared, so when the elevator dings to signify someone approaching, everyone readily glances in the elevator's direction. The doors slide open and Peter practically skips out.. with Leslie following on his heels in complete and utter awe.

Pepper is too focused on her phone to see those in the pit staring at you with oh shit expressions and you roll your eyes as you finish off your drinks. "Watch it with that one," you mumble. "She's a clout chaser."

Those words catch Pepper's attention, her focus immediately on the girl then and you barely feel any regret uttering those words. You figure Pepper's used to dealing with clout chasers after dealing with Tony Stark's one night stand's so long ago, so you smother a grin when Pepper winks in your direction before getting up and introducing herself to the girl.

"Well that's my cue to head on home." Darcy and Wanda frown. You huff a laugh at them, shaking your head. "Sorry. I've had three of these," you say while gesturing to your empty mug, "so my tongue's a little loose. If she even looks at me wrong, I have a feeling we're going to have a repeat of my junior year in high school."

Sam ooh's. "What happened your junior year?"

"Got a month of in-school suspension." You shrug. "Some bitch kept making cruel remarks to Peter, so one morning I borrowed my sister's class ring and used it to beat the girl's face in. Then when we were separated and our parents showed up, the same girl had the audacity to call me a crazy bitch to her parents when we were walking down the same hallway. I jumped her again."

"Nuh uh. No way," Darcy muses. "You're so nice!"

You snort and Bucky turns around in his seat. "Parker!" You bite your tongue when both Peter and Leslie turn towards your general direction. "What did Y/N do her junior year in high school to earn in-school suspension?"

Peter barks out a laugh. "She broke the ruby stone on her sister's class ring when she punched a girl in the face. Repeatedly."

Story confirmed, Bucky turns back to you and salutes you with his bottle of beer. "Okay. I did not expect that."

Your nose wrinkles as you laugh. "I was a mean girl. College mellowed me out and real life made me a lazy bitch. I'm too stressed to be a petty asshole."

"I'll drink to that," Darcy says.

You try to stay a little longer, but out of the corner of your eye you see Leslie taking selfie after selfie. Her phone is purposely raised too high and the camera's aim is off so she can capture everyone in the background rather than herself. You quietly groan as you roll your eyes. "I really need to go or I'm going to say something and make things awkward."

The group doesn't try to stop you, instead Natasha leans forward to address you. "How you gettin' home?"

"I can walk. It's actually not that far from here."

Bucky shakes his head. "I'll walk you."

"What? No." You frown. "I'm good. You stay and enjoy yourself."

"Give it up," Natasha muses, "he won't take no for an answer. We like you. Let us keep you safe."

You glance at Bucky. "Are you sure? I can honestly get home just fine. I don't want to put anyone out."

Bucky finishes off his beer. "Nah. You're good. I need some fresh air anyway."

Seeing as you're not fighting him on it, Darcy and Wanda get up to bid you a good night. They walk with you back into the kitchen to grab your shoes while Bucky walks over to Steve to tell him what he's going to do. Darcy takes your phone to enter her and Wanda's phone numbers, and she makes the suggestion that you do this again when you're free. You agree and then they make sure to tell Bucky to keep an eye on you when you end up tripping over your own shoelaces.

With her arms crossed over her chest and staring over your shoulder, Darcy says, "You weren't kidding when you said she had him wrapped around her finger." You look to where Darcy gestures and you shake your head in disappointment. "When Bucky mentioned he was taking you home, Peter didn't have anything to say. He looked at you like he wanted to say something, but then his attention was drawn right back to Leslie when she let out an obvious huff that someone needed to walk you home."

"That's Leslie and her magical vagina for you."

Darcy and Wanda giggle, and your eyes widen. You can't believe you just said that.

Bucky swings an arm around your shoulders then, chuckling. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here before we have a girl fight on our hands." He leads you into the elevator and you flip off Wanda and Darcy who are both waving and wiggling their eyebrows.

The ride down is quiet, as is the first couple blocks on your way home. Bucky's arm had lowered from your shoulders to hooking through your own arm when you tripped over the curb.

"I didn't peg you as a quiet drunk," he suddenly muses.

"Oh you'd know if I was drunk."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I'm a sleepy drunk. If I were drunk, you'd be carrying me home." You trip over a crack in the sidewalk, giggling, but Bucky is quick to tighten his hold on your arm so you don't fall. He laughs.

"So what? Is this you tipsy?"

"More or less. I'm a bit more bold for a little while and then I'm on the hunt for food before finding a place to crash."

"A bit more bold? You looked like you were one look away from startin' a fight back there at the tower, sweetheart."

You shrug. "I don't like her."

A beat passes and then, "Is it because you're in love with Parker?" You don't answer right away and take a moment to gather your thoughts. "And answer honestly. I really am curious. Your secret is safe with me," he tells you.

Elbowing Bucky lightly, you say, "I love Peter, but I'm not in love with Peter. He's my best friend. But I don't have to be in love with him to be jealous," you say quietly. "For the longest time it was just Petey and I, then Ned came along and finally MJ. We both had our relationships, but Peter had a habit of choosing his girlfriend over his friends, and that- that hurts."

"Have you told him how you felt?"

"He knows," you admit. "Well not from me, but Ned and MJ confronted him about it. MJ got tired of it first and distanced herself. She said she had better things to do than wait around for a friend who didn't want anything to do with her while he was getting his dick wet." Bucky snorts and you grin. "Well those weren't her words exactly, but you get the drift."

"Yeah I do."

You sigh. "Then Ned told him it wasn't cool to just drop us while his full attention was on a girl who only wanted him hanging out with her friends. Peter tried to do better for a couple months afterwards, but alas Leslie wins. Again."

"I'm sure he was just excited to hear from her after so long. At least that's what I heard you tell him."

You glance up at him, eyebrow raised. "Who are you and where is the real James Buchanan Barnes?"

"What?"

"I don't know, man. I didn't peg you as someone this talkative." Bucky chuckles and a few minutes later you're glancing up at a familiar building. "Well this is me." You unhook your arm from his, smiling at him. "Thanks for walking me. I'm pretty sure I would have either scraped my palms or busted my chin had you not been there to catch me."

"Don't even worry about it. You okay taking the stairs?"

"Pft. Too much cardio. I'll take the elevator."

"Well then I guess this is where I leave you." You mockingly salute him and he shakes his head at you. "Drink some water."

"Yes, sir. See you around, Barnes."

"See 'ya."

Over the next couple of days, you don't really hear from Peter. You text him to grab some dinner with you and to watch a movie, but he ends up telling you he's busy and that's that. Darcy ends up adding you to a group chat with Wanda, Natasha and Pepper, and you end up talking to them more than your own best friend. Surprisingly, none of them are fans of Peter's Leslie. While they can admit the two of them look good side-by-side, it's obvious Peter does anything and everything to keep her in good spirits even if it means putting him in an awkward position.

Admitting you and Peter were backed into two very different corners and not talking at the moment, Darcy suggests another night of drinks. You tell her you have one more week off, but Pepper's too busy running Stark Industries and Natasha is about to go off the grid for a mission. Darcy and Wanda are free, so Darcy says she'll text you the deets.

You had reached out to Peter once more, sighing when he gave you the excuse of spending time in Stark's labs. His hesitation rubbed you the wrong way, so one text to Pepper later confirmed your gut feeling that Peter had not been by all day and, in fact, had texted Tony for date night suggestions instead. So when your night out with Darcy and Wanda comes around, you walk into the bar and quickly find them, then marching up to the table and downing one of the shots there.

You cough, cringe, and then, "Is that vodka? Fuck! You should have warned me."

"You looked like a woman on a mission," Darcy says. "Who am I to get in the way of that?"

You glower at her and then accept the drink Wanda pushes towards you. It's then you notice Sam and Bucky at the table, and you narrow your eyes at them.

"If looks could kill," Sam chuckles. "Don't worry. We're designated bodyguards and drivers tonight. Just pretend like we're not even here."

"Mhm. Move over."

Sam scoffs as Bucky immediately starts pushing him further down the bench seat they're on and you take a seat on the edge. Your knee bounces anxiously beneath the table and Bucky nudges you with his arm. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Peter fuckin' Parker." Darcy and Wanda's nose wrinkle, and you sigh. "I'm just.. so over waiting for my friend to realize I still exist. It sucks to be forgotten about until the one he's devoting all his time to drops him. Then it's like he remembers I still exist and it's back to normal as if nothing ever happened."

"I like Peter," Wanda starts, "but he isn't a good friend."

You shrug. "He's been doing this since high school. It hurts, but I've gotten used to it."

"Screw that. Drink up," Darcy urges you. "No moping tonight."

"I'm down." You salute her with your glass. "To no moping."

"Aw hell," Bucky mutters. "You girls are going to be a handful," he says as he watches you down the complete drink while Darcy and Wanda cheer you on.

Bucky and Sam, being the best designated bodyguards, keep the drinks at a decent pace so none of you over-do it. The second they notice the annoyance drain out of you and you're all lazy smiles, Sam and Bucky sag in relief.

"Okay so FMK," Darcy says. "Y/N, you're up first."

"Ugh." You groan. "Do I really have to answer?"

"Yes. But don't worry, Sam and Bucky won't be one of the candidates." You smile at their offended heys! "We don't need to feed their egos."

"Alright. Hit me!"

Wanda giggles as Darcy offers up your choices. "Tony, Clint, and Thor."

"Oooh," you drawl. "Fuck Thor because you know, he looks like he'd dom the shit out of you behind closed doors." Sam snorts and Bucky glances at you, eyebrow raised. "Marry Clint because he's goofy as fuck. That'd be a fun marriage. And sadly kill Tony because you know, he's got Pepper. Hoes before bros. You don't do that to a fellow lady."

"I think you got the saying backwards there, Y/N." Sam laughs. "It's bros before hoes."

"Is it? Is it really?" You take a long sip of your drink, eyes twinkling in the low light. "Wanda's turn!" You then muse. You look at her, smirking. "Your choices are Steve, Peter, and Bruce."

She pouts at you and you can't help but laugh. She sighs. "Kill Bruce just because he's definitely not my type." You and Darcy giggle. Wanda hums. "I'm sorry, but I'd do Peter just so it's a one and done. And then marry Steve."

You coo at her. "Wanda Rogers. It has a nice ring to it."

Wanda blushes, but then she turns on Darcy. "Your turn. Sam, Bucky, and Peter."

"Hey! We're not supposed to offer up these two idiots as candidates," she says while gesturing to said two idiots.

Bucky and Sam merely grin, awaiting her answer. When you or Wanda don't budge, she rolls her eyes. "Fine. Kill Peter, fuck Bucky and marry Sam."

"You answered that way too quickly." You laugh, Sam and Bucky's smugness not going unnoticed. "But you know, same. Cheers to good taste!" You and Darcy tap your glasses together, breaking down into giggles afterward.

Bucky shakes his head fondly at the three of you. "You girls have no shame when you've got liquor in you."

You, Darcy and Wanda all share a look before you're laughing once more.

          - - - - - - - - - - 

The night goes on with Darcy asking the most asinine questions she can think of. This group of people you've only met days before now know several of your sexual preferences and kinks thanks to the giggly brunette, but it was all admitted in good fun and no one teased you about it. You also know them on a more personal level and you can't believe some of the stories that leave Bucky or Darcy's mouths.

Wanda seems to be the photographer of the night and her favorite picture to take is you getting into Bucky's personal space and attempting to earn a smile from him. You managed to get one after a couple of hours- hours spent threatening to lick his face. You ended up face to face with him, staring him down, and when he said you wouldn't.. you did. It was nothing more than a kitten lick to the tip of his nose, but it was enough to send everyone into hysterical laughter. Wanda was just grateful she managed to catch the whole thing on video instead of a picture.

As Sam and Darcy went to grab another round from the bar, you glanced around the cramped building and leaned into Bucky. "I'll be back."

"Where you going, doll?"

"Bathroom. There's always a line for the ladies bathroom so it might take me a while."

"Need an escort?"

You chuckle and shake your head. "I'm fine. Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours about me."

At his nod, you squeeze his arm with assurances that you'll be back soon before scooting out of the booth. You make your way towards the back of the bar, sighing at the line down the hallway. So taking your spot in line, you lean against the wall and immediately pull out your phone.

Scrolling through Instagram, you like the few photos Darcy and Sam have posted. Wanda even posted the video of you and Bucky, and it makes you grin as it plays over and over. Although as you look at the number of likes and comments, you kind of wish the Avengers didn't have public social media.

After nearly ten minutes of waiting in line, it's finally your turn. It's a great relief to be inside the small room and then after doing your business and washing your hands, you're on your way back towards your booth. Only you've barely exited the hallway when there's a body sliding in front of you.

"Hey." You jerk to a stop, frowning at the stranger before you. "So not to be creepy, but I saw waiting in line earlier and I was wondering if I could buy you a drink."

The guy is good looking, but under the current circumstances you just want to get back to your booth. "Sorry, but my friends have me taken care of." You step aside in order to go around him, but he reaches out to capture your wrist. You jerk out of his hold. "Don't touch me."

Though you're obviously disgruntled, the guy laughs. "Come on, sweetheart, don't cause a scene. It's just a drink."

"First off, I'm not your sweetheart." He huffs. "And secondly, this scene could have been avoided if you took no for no instead of trying to pressure me until I say yes. I was willing to let your sudden introduction slide, but now? Now this is creepy. This is actually borderline harassment!"

"Whoa. Calm down, you fuckin' harpy. All I wanted was to buy you a drink and talk."

You take a step towards him, eyes glaring. "And I told you my friends had me taken care of."

Whatever Stranger Danger had planned to say dies on the tip of his tongue as an arm wraps around you from behind. But not just any arm. Oh no. A very infamous metal arm.

Bucky's arm reaches around in front of you from your left side, his hand then encompassing your right shoulder. As Stranger Danger seems to gape in fear, you can't help but lean back into Bucky's chest as your hands reach up to hold onto his arm as it rests across your chest. "Is there a problem here, doll?"

"I'm not sure. This guy can't seem to take no for an answer and that apparently makes me a fuckin' harpy now," you say.

Bucky gently squeezes your shoulder. "Hey asshole, we still got a problem here?"

"Oh, uh, no." He steps back. And then takes several more steps back. "Sorry."

As soon as he turns tail and books it back to his own group of friends you burst into laughter. You feel Bucky's own laughter against your back and you lay your head back against his shoulder while glancing up at him. "Should I feel special? I feel special," you say. "You took your sleeve off in order to scare the piss outta some douchebag."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get back to the table. I'm pretty sure Sam, Wanda, and Darce started recording the moment I stood up."

"I can see the caption now," you say as Bucky starts to lead you to the table in question. "Sergeant Barnes saves drunken fool from being creeped on. Ovaries are going to explode all over the world. There's going to be so much fanfiction about this moment."

"Fanfiction?"

"Uhh.. don't worry about it."

"I wasn't, but now I'm interested given your reaction."

"Oohh." Darcy perks up. "Interested in what?"

"Nothing!"

"What fanfiction is?" Sam snorts as Wanda frowns, and Darcy practically bounces in her seat. Wanda scoots down the U-shaped bench towards Sam's side and Darcy scoots down as well. Bucky nudges you into the seat and he plops down right next to you before placing his arm on the back of the seat right behind you. "So what is it?"

"They are stories written by fans."

"Darcy!"

"Usually about fictional characters, but some people write about real life people. It's almost always a fantasy of theirs."

You groan and then reach over to pinch Bucky's nipple when he asks, "You write any fantasies of your own, Y/N?"

"Shut up."

He laughs at you, placing a hand over his pec to keep you from pinching him again. "No? So you read them. You obviously must do if you know what fanfiction is."

"You know Tony pays someone on the down low to write smut about him?" Darcy admits.

"What?!" You turn towards her, laughing hysterically. "If it's on the down low, then how do you know?"

"Mama's got her ways." Sam snorts at her. "And FRIDAY is one of my bff's."

For a moment all is well and then Bucky nudges you again. "So which ones did you read?"

"Oh my god," you groan. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Bucky smirks. "Not a chance."

"Then fine. Yes I read some fanfiction back in my high school days. I was really into vampires back in the day, the whole fangs really did it for me, so I read a lot about the Lost Boys. And Twilight even though they didn't have fangs."

"Twilight?!" Sam guffaws.

You hide your face in the palms of your hand. "I know! But to be fair, I was all about that Jasper guy and that werewolf dude Paul. I didn't really care for the other characters."

Wanda grins. "Jasper was the most handsome of the Cullen coven."

"Yes!" You look up at her. "Thank you."

"Now that is something I will cheers to." Darcy passes you a drink and you raise it alongside hers and Wanda's. "To Y/N's fang festish!"

"Hey!"

          - - - - - - - - - - 

Sam and Bucky call it a night a couple hours later when you can't quite keep your head up and move between laying your head on Darcy and Bucky's shoulders.

Between the two of them, they manage to herd you, Darcy, and Wanda into a car that was parked around the corner. However the second you were pushed into the middle seat, you lean forward and tap Sam on the shoulder. "Can we get some chicken nuggies?"

"It's three in the morning!"

You sniffle. "But I want some nuggies."

"We'll get you some nuggets," Bucky says. "Now sit back so Sam can drive."

"Yes, sir."

Darcy and Wanda giggle as you sit back, and that's the last thing you remember.

The next time you wake up, you realize you're on the floor. But given the plush carpet beneath your cheek, it's not any floor in your apartment. You groan as your temples throb and you can already feel the bile in the back of your throat threatening to come up.

"What the fuck," you mumble. Your stomach lurches and you clamp your mouth shut.

"Well it seems I missed one hell of a night out." You angle your face towards the voice, stomach lurching once again when you see Tony eating a plate of food not too far from you. "Barnes and Wilson brought you back here because you were totally wasted. They didn't want you to choke on your vomit."

You gag. "Please don't say- say that word." Tony laughs at your pain. "Where are the girls?"

He points with his fork. "Behind you. You might not be able to see them over all the McDonald's trash. You girls really packed away all those nuggets. Even Steve was impressed when he got back in."

"Ugh. I'm never drinking with them again." You roll onto your side, but the movement makes the room tilt. You stop and inhale, then exhale deeply. "Mind if I sleep it off right here? If I move I'm gonna barf."

"Knock yourself out. I'll have FRIDAY warn everyone off for a few more hours."

"Yesss. You're a good man, Stark."

He gasps. "FRIDAY, did you catch that? Send the recording to Pepper. She'll be so proud."

You did not break your vow of over drinking again, instead you stuck to early evening dinner with Wanda and Natasha (when she was in town) after Darcy got called away to take some readings out in a desert. And since that night where Bucky saved you from a drunken fight, he had somehow ended up with your number and would text you randomly throughout the day. Part of you played it cool, but the other part of you was very flattered that Bucky Barnes was sending you good morning and good night texts.

Then the weekend before you are to return back to work, you decide to treat yourself to brunch before you have to go home and clean.

You're sitting on the outside patio, waiting for your food to come out as you sip on your orange juice. You take a selfie, tagging your location as you post it to Instagram with the caption that you're treating yourself to all the food you can stomach before you have to return to adulting come Monday morning. Then when the waitress comes out bearing your honey raspberry and banana ricotta toast, and your breakfast casserole, you happily sigh and thank her for the quick service. You take another picture, post it, and then dig in, laughing at the comments and texts from your friends who sarcastically thank you for the invite.

You haven't even made a dent in the casserole when a shadow falls over you. You glance up mid-chew, grinning at the sight of Bucky. "This seat taken?"

You shake your head, swallowing the food that's in your mouth before addressing him. When it's gone with a little help from your juice, you ask, "What are you doing wandering around?"

"Peter's girl was at the tower, waiting for him to finish up something with Tony," he says. You snort, already figuring out something must have gone wrong. "She was mooning over Stevie and Sam said my bitch face was too obvious, so they sent me out."

"And you just happened to find me?"

"Well you did tag your location which is something we're gonna have to talk about soon."

"Oh whatever." You playfully roll your eyes. "Now shut up and help me eat this food. I see you eying the toast." Bucky smirks and readily takes one of the toasts, eating half of it in one bite. His eyes widen as a slight groan escapes and you chuckle. "Right? It's so good. I think this is going to be my go-to place from now on."

Bucky picks up a spare fork, then digs into the breakfast casserole and you laugh at his willingness to eat your food. There's very little talk as the two of you finish the food, and only after it's gone does Bucky ask, "Is Parker still a no-show to your hangouts?"

"We actually hung out two days ago," you say, "but he was only there for ten minutes before Leslie needed him to escort her to her friend's party." Bucky shakes his head and you shrug. "It is what it is. At least I got you guys out of this whole ordeal."

"You totally got the kids out of the divorce."

You snort and then glare at Bucky for making you do so in the first place. "Shut up. Petey and I are good. He's just preoccupied at the moment."

"If you say so, doll."

Clearly done with the food and ready to move on, you wave down your waitress for the check. However, before she can hand you the small folder, Bucky snatches it and shoves a single bill in there while telling her to keep the change. You know the bill he shoved in there must have been a large one given the widened eyes of the waitress when she sees it.

"Smoothe, Barnes," you muse as you stand. "But you do know I could have paid for my own food, right?"

"Yeah, but I figured I'd pay considering I crashed your alone time." He stands as well, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. You take off walking in the direction you know your apartment is. "So you got any plans for the rest of the day?"

"Cleaning and laundry. Apparently ever since I've met this new group of people, I've put off my household duties." Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. "I plan to clean today and laze around tomorrow before I go back to work on Monday."

"Laze around, huh?" He pauses a moment and then asks, "Want some company? I'll bring the food."

You glance up at him, right eyebrow raised in amusement before you hook your arm through his. "Bucky Barnes, a man after my own heart." He chuckles as you mockingly swoon. Then straightening up, you nod. "Sure you can come over. I don't mind."

"I'm coming over for lunch and dinner, so what are you going to want?"

"Won't the others wonder where you are?"

Bucky shrugs. "Stevie's been buggin' me to get out. He'll be ecstatic."

You laugh. "Barnes, when they tell you to get out I think they mean out and about in public. Not from one enclosed space to another."

"Baby steps."

"Baby steps my ass," you muse. "But yeah, bring whatever food you like. Surprise me."

He smirks. "Okay. Will do."

#marvel gen fic x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #peter parker #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #darcy lewis #the avengers imagine #marvel imagine #the avengers #marvel

[itsapeterthing]

You and Me || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: your best friend, peter parker, disappeared with the snap of thanos’ fingers five years ago. when he comes back after five long years things may have changed, but you’ll always be his

a/n: okay so here let’s pretend that even if you were snapped you still aged; reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angst w/ happy ending, a lot of this involved the battle scene from endgame so fighting, getting crushed and tony’s death

masterlist || request || taglist

"Y/n? Oh my God, Y/n! Are you seeing this on the news? It’s crazy! I- I don’t even know what that is! M- maybe it’s aliens! That would mean-”

“Woah! Peter slow down!” You whispered to your best friend on the phone, sneaking into the bathroom to take the call in the middle of class. “What’s going on?”

You could hear shuffling and heavy breathing on his end, no doubt swinging across the city while holding the phone to his ear. “So I was on the bus and then I saw this big round spaceship thing so I was like ‘Oh shoot! Mr. Stark might need me!’ so I had Ned distract the bus-”

“Wait. You’re following a spaceship?” You asked, watching as the only other person who had been in the bathroom finally left. “Peter that sounds really dangerous. Maybe... maybe you should let the big guys handle it.”

Despite your best efforts to conceal it, Peter could hear the anxiety laced in your voice even over the phone.

“Y/n, I- I have to.” He told you, and you could hear him stop swinging on the other side. “If you were nearby, you would do the same thing. I know you would.”

“Yeah, and if you were in my position, you would tell me not to too.” You chuckled, leaning against the bathroom wall.

“”Yeah, because you need me there to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes at what your best friend had just said. Despite him not being able to see you, you knew he knew you well enough to take the hint. “Shut up!” You gasped. “At least my powers are cool! I can do magic, spider boy.”

Before he could even argue with your nickname for him, reminding you that he was “Spider-Man” and not “Spider-Boy”, he cursed on the other line.

“Shit! This guy’s huge!” He exclaimed. “I have to go, Y/n.”

“Wait!” You shouted into the phone. “Be safe!”

“You got it, Y/n!”

Holding the phone tighter to your ear, you found the courage to finally say it.

“I- I love you.”

But before you could get a reply, the line went dead.

“Y/n!” You heard a voice shout, but you weren’t able to tell from where.

You opened your eyes only to be met with darkness and a heavy weight crushing your chest and covering every part of your body. Huffing you attempted to wiggle your fingers, seeing if there was any part of you not crushed by the absolute weight of concrete on top of you. When you felt a few of your fingers able to move freely, you stretched them out, allowing the golden glow of your magic to flow from your hand.

“Y/n?” You heard again, this time recognizing the voice as Cap’s.

“Hey, Y/n’s over here!” You heard Tony shout from above, closer than Steve.

Without another word, you felt the weight thrown off of you as Steve picked up the slab that had crushed you. You looked up only to be met with the somber faces of both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, the wires sparking and dust rising around them. Steve kneeled above you, reaching out his hand to pull you up and still coughing you accepted it.

“You okay, kid?” He asked.

Standing up and stretching out your arms, making sure you could move everything, you nodded. “Yeah,” You replied, suddenly taking in the scene around you. What felt like seconds before you had been standing in the Compound, but now you were surrounded by ash, dust and destruction. “What happened?”

You followed them as they made their way over to Thor who was standing feet away, observing the field ahead of him. You watched as Cap shrugged.

“I think we’re about to find out.”

Minutes later when you were besides Steve, picking yourself up and off of the ground, you almost wished you hadn't asked. You watched as alien ships and Thano’s army flew overhead and marched into your line of sight. You grew hopeless. Although you and the other Avengers who were at the Compound were undeniably powerful, you knew that even Steve who stood at your side, strapping his shield tighter around his injured arm was aware of the likelihood of you all making it out not only alive, but on top.

Just then, however, you heard the voice speak through Cap’s earpiece.

Turning around you watched as a singular portal opened behind him and began to feel tears prickling in your eyes- as much as you would deny crying once the battle was over. As more portals continued to open up, you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face, seeing everyone who had disappeared five years ago beside you again. However, there was one face you couldn’t help but search for.

You finally laid eyes on him as a portal opened up from a remote planet you didn’t recognize. At first you only saw unfamiliar faces and nearly grew discouraged until you saw your favorite spider boy swing through the portal.

Before you could see him without his mask, you spun around as you heard Cap’s orders.

“Avengers... assemble.”

With that, everything happened so fast. You were floating across the field in seconds, shooting bursts of magic out of your hands at each warrior that came your way. Knocking each of the alien warriors to the ground, you couldn’t help but check around you, watching to see if you would be lucky enough to have him fighting beside you once again.

Before the blip you and Peter had always fought beside each other. The two of you were essentially inseparable and the whole team who knew the two of you knew it. You told yourselves that it was just because you were younger and less experienced- that a buddy system was beneficial to the both of you. You knew better though.

By the time that Peter had been snapped to dust by Thanos’ fingers, you had fully accepted the feelings that you had for your best friend. You were so adamant about being beside him on the battlefield because you had to make sure he was okay- to make sure he was safe. You knew how easily distracted he could get, caught up in the moment of being a superhero, so you were always sure to look out for him and cover his back, not just for him but for yourself as well. You never told him your feelings though in fear that it would ruin the relationship you had built.

It was your biggest regret for the past five years of your life.

Knowing he was back, you needed to find him.

It was as though God had heard you and answered your prayers when once you looked up from killing another one of Thanos’ warriors, your eyes met across the field.

As soon as you saw him, you watched as he tapped the side of his neck, the mask that had been covering his face, retracting.

He looked older- five years older to be exact. The baby face you had grown to love had matured into one that was recognizable, but undeniably new. His hair was a bit longer, his shoulders looked broader and you were sure he had grown taller. All the changes didn’t matter an ounce to you though- all that mattered was that he was your Peter and that he was finally standing right in front of you.

Your hands trembling at your sides, you looked at him and dared yourself to smile.

“Peter?”

He smiled right back and in that moment you were sure that your feelings hadn’t changed a bit from five years ago. God, you missed him.

“Y/n?” He asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh, overjoyed to hear your name slipping out of his mouth again. No longer being able to hold yourself back, you ran across the space to him and he did the same. Meeting in the middle, he immediately slipped his arms under your arms and around your waist, picking you up and off the ground in a tight embrace. You were so afraid of him slipping away through your fingers- you grasped him so tightly you were sure that if his suit wasn’t made of metal, you would have left a mark on his back.

You sobbed into his neck while laughing, telling him that you missed him and that you couldn't believe he was really there.

When you finally let go, you pulled away, both of you still holding each other at arm’s length.

“You-”

“I-” Peter began.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sorry- you go first!”

Peter laughed, shaking you while he spoke. “Has it really been five years? Dr. Strange- do you know Dr. Strange? Anyway- not important- Dr. Strange said that it’s been five years and then he did the swirly thing and now we’re here and-”

You smiled as you listened to his speech, Peter talking about what had happened when he came back after five years away, sprinkled with questions like “Was the last Star Wars movie good? I can't believe I missed the last Star Wars movie!” and “Are there flying cars now? Sorry, that’s dumb. Who needs flying cars?”. When he finally took a breath, you cut into the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s really been five years, Pete.” You laughed. “You look... older.”

“Do I really?” He asked excitedly. “How much older?”

You quirked your eyebrows at him. This was Peter alright.

“Five years older, bud.”

“Oh... yeah.” He chuckled scratching the back of his neck. “Y- you look older too... in a good way! You also have um dirt all over your face, but uh... you always... look good.”

You smiled and even after all this time you could feel yourself become flustered by his compliment. You really were his.

“Thanks.” You said. “The uh... the Compound kind of fell on me so...”

“Wait what-”

Before Peter could ask you more about you surviving a building collapsing on you, the two of you watched as T’Challa ran through the battlefield, the gauntlet in his grasp. Snapping back into the moment, you let go of Peter. As he tapped the side of his neck, the mask covering his face again, you knew what he was about to do.

“Be safe!” You shouted.

Without a word you watched as Peter shot a web that flew right by you. When you spun around you watched as one of the warriors fell to the ground, held down by the web- a blade still in his hand.

“You first!” He called before swinging away.

The moment he left, you snapped back into action, taking out warriors left and right, moving on to help others when you cleared your area.

Your bones were beginning to ache, feeling the weight of not only the building that had fallen on top of you earlier, but also your relentless swinging and fighting to not only protect yourself, but humanity. The weight of the world felt as if it was on your shoulders and no matter how sore you were- you wouldn’t stop until it was over- for better or worse.

When the beams started raining down from the large ship overhead, you fell to the ground, concealing yourself within a forcefield in just enough time to protect yourself before one rained down right above you. The impact of it hitting the ground shook the earth beneath you and you could see nothing but the golden glow of the forcefield surrounding you and dirt exploding from the ground around you.

You pulled your knees into your chest and wrapped your arms around your head to shield yourself despite the forcefield surrounding you.

“See you in a minute?” You asked.

“See you in a minute.” She smiled.

For the first time since you woke up under the pile of concrete, you could feel your chest tightening and a ball form in your throat as tears were threatening to spill over.

You thought of Natasha, the woman who mentored you for the past five years, and how she sacrificed herself for all of these people to have their lives back. She died for the cause and as you sat there with beams exploding around you, you prayed that it wasn’t all for nothing- that you would all win, that people would get to hug their family members again and that you might even get to tell Peter about how you felt.

Peter. Realizing now that you would have died if not for your powers, you wished that Peter was safe carrying the gauntlet across the field. You couldn’t bare to lose him twice just when you had been given your second chance.

When you felt the ground stop shaking under you, you unraveled yourself, looking up to see that the raining beams had stopped. Removing your forcefield, you watched as the spaceship fell out of the sky.

Being given your second chance, you used your powers, picking up large pieces of the former Avenger’s Compound building, hurling them at large groups of Thanos’ warriors, crushing them instantly. In the distance you could see Thanos, Steve, Tony and Carol Danvers scrambling for the gauntlet.

As you went to make your way towards them, however, you felt a hand wrap around your neck and pull you back. Being thrown to the ground, the warrior fell on top of you, his knife attempting to make its way into your chest. You kicked your legs towards his torso, grunting as you grabbed his wrist, using all of your strength to keep the blade centimeters away from piercing itself into your skin.

Right when you were accepting your fate, growing exhausted from not just today’s, but years worth of fighting, you watched as a look of horror flashed across the warrior’s face and in a second he turned to dust in your grasp.

Pushing yourself up and off the ground, wiping the remnants of ash off of you, you spun around and watched as Thano’s army faded away to dust, facing the same horror that billions did on that one day five years ago. You could finally allow yourself to breathe a sigh of relief as they disappeared across the battlefield, slowly turning to ash.

When you looked back towards where Thanos stood seconds before, you ran over, nearly tripping over all of the objects in your path.

When you finally made your way over, recognizing Peter immediately from behind, you followed his line of sight to Tony who was sitting up almost motionless on the ground. 

You observed the way his arm was mangled up to the side of his face, similar to Banner’s earlier when he snapped half of humanity back into existence. You knew, however, that Tony wouldn’t be able to survive the same fate.

As Pepper placed her hands on Peter’s shoulders moving him to the side, you rushed to him, wrapping Peter in your arms as you held his head against your chest. As soon as he made contact with you, you could feel him tightly squeezing around your torso, crying into the fabric of your suit.

You hushed him, watching as Tony’s hand fell from Pepper’s one last time. You could feel your heart breaking in your chest over all that you had lost, but knowing in the end that you had won. 

The proof of victory, although costly, was evident to you by the crying man in your arms.

A week later when the memorial was held at Tony’s house, you saw Peter again for the first time since the day he had come back. You gave him space, understanding that coming back after disappearing for five years and losing your mentor was difficult to cope with.

After watching the last remanent of Tony Stark float across the lake, Peter found you standing to the side. When you heard a branch snap from a few feet behind you, you jumped, turning around only to be met with Peter’s face.

“Hey.” You smiled.

“H-hey, Y/n.”

“How are you feeling?” You asked him, leaning against the nearby tree.

He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Well... May and I found someplace to stay and all of our stuff so... that’s good.”

You smiled. “That’s-”

“I heard about Black Widow.” He cut you off, fiddling with the cufflinks on the sleeve of his jacket. “About... about how she trained you all this time and stuff.” He finally looked up at you and met your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You shrugged, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath, willing yourself not to cry in front of him. You knew that to him five years ago felt like yesterday- that he couldn’t understand how your life changed in the past five years. Regardless, it meant a lot that he cared enough to check on you when there was so much else for him to worry about.

“It’s okay, Pete.” You sighed. “She... and Tony... they did everything it took to bring you guys back. That’s what mattered, you know? Whatever it took. Any of us would have done the same. It’s just... it’s just too bad that there wasn’t another way. I just wish that I could tell her that we won- that her sacrifice was worth it- that she saved the world.”

Peter nodded, taking a step closer to you, still fiddling with his sleeve.

“So you uh.. you think it was worth it then?” He asked.

You smiled, grabbing Peter’s hands to stop them from trembling and pulled him closer to you. “Of course it was worth it, Pete.” You said. “You’re standing right here in front of me again- of course it was worth it.”

Peter didn’t say anything back at first. Instead the two of you just gazed at each other, now leaning against the tree.

When he finally broke from your gaze, he shifted his eyes to stare at your hands in his.

“Do you still mean what you said?” He asked suddenly.

You know for him it had been a week, but for you it had been five years. What you had said could be any number of things, but you knew deep down what he was referring to.

When you didn’t answer, he answered your question for you. 

“That- that you loved me?”

You looked up when he spoke. Pulling your hands out of his, you placed your hand against his face, nudging his chin up to look at you. You could see his eyes still bloodshot and the bags under his eyes puffy, no doubt from crying over the past week. Even when he looked like this, you couldn’t deny that he was the most the most beautiful thing you had ever had the honor of laying your eyes on.

“Yes.”

“As- as more than-” He began stumbling over his words before you cut him off.

“Yes, Peter.” You chuckled. “As more than friends.”

You could see a smile beginning to play on his lips as he searched your eyes for any hint of doubt.

“There wasn’t, uh, anybody else?” He asked. “Even after all this time?”

You shook your head, running your thumb along his cheek.

“Nope.” You smiled. “It’s always been you, spider boy.”

Despite the fact that he always used to argue when you called him “spider boy”, assuring you that he was a man and not a boy, he always loved the nickname you held for him, reminding him that he was more than just some superhero- that he was yours.

As soon as the words slipped out of your mouth he smiled and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you in for a kiss.

It was soft and gentle, just as you had always imagined it. 

For the first time in a week, you smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Despite everything that happened to you two that had worked to pull you apart you found each other again every time. No matter what happened, at the end of the day it was you and him and that’s all that mattered.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker drabble #Peter Parker blurb #mcu oneshot #mcu fanfiction #spiderman x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot

[ellsbclls]

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship. 

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking. 

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit. 

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing," 

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand. 

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly. 

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment. 

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x stark!reader #3K ???????????? #3????????? #K?????????? #IDK HOW I GOT HERE #MOM PICK ME UP IM S C A RED????? #idk i think there's just something about stark!ready x peter parker that just gets me going #mine*

[mosswillow]

Your room (Dark!Peter Parker x Reader)

Word count 3.3k

!!!!! This is dark! And explicit 18+ only !!!!!

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, oral (female receiving), spankings, punishment, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, unprotected sex, smut, vaginal intercourse.

Summery: Your life is bland and boring but not for long. What happens when you catch the eye of a certain super hero?

Your room has always reflected you as a person. In highschool you haphazardly filled the walls with quotes and posters. Your room was messy in the typical way teenagers rooms tend to be, but also like a typical teenager was filled with feeling and hope. In college you filled your space with pictures of you and your friends taken on a polaroid camera. Everywhere you looked had your life staring back at you. Now as an adult the pictures from college are tucked away in a box. Your room is simple and boring. Most people think of you as minimalist but you don’t do it to be trendy, you just have no passion. You’ve spent the years after graduating college working a job you hate in a lab, running the same tests over and over again. You’ve always wanted to be a scientist, working on something new and exciting. You’ve applied everywhere but you rarely even get an interview. Your dreams, unfortunately, will never happen for you. Sometimes you wish for someone to swoop in and take you for your bland life but you know that will never happen. Watching your friends get dream jobs and buy homes while you waste away has crushed your spirit. You’re tired.

---

“Hey Y/N, we’re going out tonight.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, you never come with us.”

“Ok sure.”

Your coworker is right that you never go out anymore and so several hours later you walk into a bar, grabbing a drink and finding your coworkers. The bar is bustling with activity and you lose track of time. You usually curl up in bed with a book on a friday night but you’re glad you came. You used to go out all the time in college and miss being social. Going out is good for your mental health and you decide to make more of a point to spend time with people.

You say goodbye to your still partying co-workers and head home a little past midnight. You start your walk and cut through an alleyway, wanting to get home before you vomit from the alcohol.

“Hey sweetheart. What are you doing all alone out here?”

A large man steps out of the shadows and walks toward you. You ignore him, keeping your eyes focused ahead and pick up the pace.

“Oi, I’m talkin’ to you,” He lunges forward and grabs your arm.

“Let me go.” You try to walk away but he holds onto you still, pushing you against the wall and landing a bruising kiss on your lips. His breath smells rancid and you feel bile rise in your throat. You cry out for help and the man is suddenly pulled away from you. You watch with disbelief as Spider man throws the stranger against the opposing wall.

“She said to go away buddy.”

The man slowly stands up and runs away. Spider Man shoots a web at the running stranger and he falls over, immobilized.

“You ok?” Spider Man turns to you, cocking his head.

“Yes, thank you Spider Man.”

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow”

You watch spider man pick up the stranger like he’s nothing and swing away. You walk the rest of the way home and lie in bed, unable to fall asleep. The next morning there’s a tap on your window and you look out to see Spider Man on your fire escape. You briefly wonder how he knows where you live but quickly brush off the thought and open your window.

“You sure you’re ok?” He steps towards you, looking you over.

“Just a little shaken up.”

He walks to your kitchen, filling a glass of water and handing it to you.

“This is too much, really I’m fine. You already saved me.”

“Drink the water,” He commands.

You sigh and drink it.

“That’s a good girl. Now get back to bed.”

You set the glass down and stare at the stranger you let in your home. Alarm bells start ringing.

“I’d like you to leave.”

“I’ll leave once I know you’re doing as you're told.”

Your heart beats rapidly and you take a step back.

“I appreciate that you saved me and came to make sure that I’m fine but I’m now asking you to please go.”

Spider man crosses his arms.

“I’ll call the cops” you say.

“And say what?”

“That there’s an intruder.”

Spider man sighs and walks to your window, standing at it.

“Get in bed and I’ll go.”

You walk to your bed and get under the covers.

“Good girl. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

As soon as he’s through the window you jump out of bed and lock every door and window, double checking your work. You get back in bed and let out a sigh of relief, finally able to sleep.

You wake up to tapping on your window. Spiderman is back. You make your way to the window but don’t open it.

“Let me in.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you in here.”

Spider Man shakes his head and leaves without a word.

The next few weeks are filled with anxiety. You see flashes of red in your peripheral vision everywhere you go. Spider man is stalking you. You consider telling police but don’t think they’ll believe you. It sounds crazy, even to you. If it weren't for the bruises from the assault in the alleyway you would think you had imagined the whole thing. You stop leaving your apartment unless necessary and never go out after dark.

You get a voicemail one day.

“HI, this is Rebecca Johnson from Stark Industries. We’re looking for someone to fill a position in one of our labs. You had submitted an application previously and we wanted to reach out and see if you’d like to interview for the position. Please call back at your earliest convenience.

You squeal in delight, doing a celebratory fist pump. Stark industries is a dream job. You immediately hit redial and set up the interview. This would change everything. Just one year working at Stark would open up endless possibilities for you and that’s if you ever want to leave. You could afford a nicer apartment with more security. Maybe you will finally feel safe. You remind yourself that it’s just an interview and you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself.

---

You look up at the tower and take a deep breath. It’s intimidating, going for an interview at Stark tower. It’s been so long since you’ve interviewed anywhere let alone somewhere so big. You tug at your blouse, second guessing your outfit, maybe you should have worn something different. It’s too late to go back home and change. You walk in, mustering up all the courage you can and talk to the woman at the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here for an interview. Y/N Y/L/N”

“Oh yes, they’re expecting you. Here’s a temporary badge. Go to the 80th floor and take a seat.”

You take the badge and follow the instructions. You’re surprised to find yourself in what looks like private quarters. There’s a small couch near the elevator and you sit and wait.

Tony Stark himself appears in front of you and your mouth flies open. You stand quickly and hold your hand out.

“Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tony looks you up and down, clicking his tongue.

“Likewise, follow.”

You half walk, half run behind him, getting in the elevator and taking it down a floor. You arrive at a state of the art lab and workshop and Tony leads you to a desk.

“The whole workshop will be open to you. This is your desk.”

He starts walking again and you keep following him back to the elevator and to another floor.

“Here’s where you’ll live. I’ll leave you with the contract and you can call my assistant if you have any questions.”

He hands you a tablet and walks out.

You look around the room dumbfounded. You thought you were just here for an interview. You guess this means you got the job. You swipe through the contract and your eyes widen at your salary. There are a few things that make you uncomfortable though. You’re required to live on site and there’s a curfew. You have to sign a NDA about anything you see in the tower. You also can’t decide to quit without permission, which you’re not sure is even legal. You call the number to Tony’s assistant.

“This is Rebecca.”

“Hi, this is Y/N. I’m looking through this contract and it says I have to live on site and there’s a curfew?”

“Yes. That is non negotiable. Living on site will give you access to the workshop 24/7. There will be times when you will work through the night. The curfew is for security as the tower is locked down every night.”

You would rather have your own place where you can come and go as you please but you’re willing to live here if you have to and the reason for a curfew makes sense. The tower has top of the line security, which is something that’s really important to you. You don’t usually go out late anyway and if you do decide to be out late you can crash at a friends house or get a hotel room.

“And the avengers? Will I have to work closely with them?”

“You might meet them or see them at some point but most likely not.”

“I know this sounds weird but I don’t want Spider man to know I’m working here.”

“Mums the word.”

“What exactly will the job entail? I see there’s a NDA.”

“You’ll be an assistant in Tony Stark's personal workshop and will work closely with him. He appreciates privacy.”

“I see, and the part where I’m not allowed to quit?”

“He just wants to make sure you’re serious. Tony picks his assistants personally and requires loyalty.”

“Ok, thank you.”

You hang up and sign the screen. When you open the door there's a man standing outside. He’s not a tall man, standing a few inches taller than you. However, he is muscular and something about him commands attention. You feel an immediate pull towards him.

“Oh, hi I’m Peter Parker.” He holds out his hand.

“I’m Y/N”

“I also work with Tony and live right next to you. I’ll be your direct boss.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Parker.”

“Peter is fine. I won’t keep you any longer, I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You immediately get to work rearranging your life. By the end of the weekend you’re completely moved into your new place and on monday you start your first day on the job. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, full of state of the art technology and free reign to do whatever you want. You walk into work every day with a smile.

You work alone most of the time, Tony and Peter working awkward, sporadic hours but you enjoy it when you do get to work with them. Tony is funny and brilliant, you learn more from him than from any college class. Peter is smart and sweet. He helps you with your work and makes sure you’re always taken care of, sending you back to your room if you’ve been working too long or making you take breaks to eat. You find yourself starting to develop feelings for Peter and your heart swells when he asks you on a date. Life is good and only getting better.

You meet Peter outside of your door and he takes your hand. The two of you walk to a little italian restaurant and Peter takes your menu, ordering your food for you. It’s very forward for a first date but you like the confidence. After dinner he walks you back to your door and kisses you. You see something in his eyes when he pulls away, possessive and dark. It makes you feel uncomfortable but also excited. Nobody has ever looked at you like that.

Over the next few weeks Peter becomes more and more comfortable around you, becoming more physical. It’s small things, like pushing your hair back when talking or touching you gently as he walks past. He asks you out again, this time wanting to cook you dinner and you decline, suggesting a coffee date instead. You don’t feel comfortable enough with him to be alone in his room. He clenches his jaw when you tell him, obviously upset you won’t come over but agrees.

A few days later you decide to go out with some old friends and crash on one of their couches. When you get home the next day Peter is standing outside your door.

“You missed curfew.”

“I know, I went out with friends and crashed on one of their couches.”

Peter clenches his jaw.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“It shouldn't matter if I want to stay the night somewhere else.”

“Well it does.”

You roll your eyes and unlock your door quickly, locking it behind you. The two of you have only been on one date. His behavior is a red flag and you decide to take things slowly.

The next day you decide to go out for coffee, pulling on a simple tee shirt dress and some flip flops. The elevator won’t let you down.

“Your privileges have been revoked.” Peter says from behind you.

You jump. “Why?”

“You know why.”

He stalks toward you, pushing you up against the elevator.

“I don’t feel comfortable with this Peter. You need to back away from me now.”

Peter takes a step back.

“I’m sorry but right now I don’t want any sort of relationship outside of work.”

“That’s not going to work for me.”

Something in Peter's eyes terrifies you. You need to get out of here. You try the elevator again but it still won’t open.

“I quit.” you yell at the elevator, feeling more danger every second you’re stuck in the hallway with Peter.

“You can’t quit baby.”

“There’s no way it’s legal to force me to keep working even if it’s in the contract.”

“There’s nowhere to go. You’re not getting out of this building and even if you did you’d have to find a lawyer to take your case.”

“You can’t do this, I'll tell Tony.”

“Who do you think suggested this in the first place? Most of the Avengers have gotten their partners this way. I was waiting for the right person and I knew you were them the moment I saw you.”

“Why would Tony help you trap me here? You’re just a lab assistant.”

“Oh no honey, I’m much more than that.”

He steps toward you, caging you in.

“You think it’s a coincidence I saved you in that alleyway?”

“Spider man?”

Peter gives a grin. He leans in and smells your hair.

“No.”

“I’m sorry it’s happening this way, I wanted to break you down slower. You’ll have a really good life, we’ll live together and work together. You’ll have everything you could need or want.”

“I want to leave.”

“You’ll change your mind, you just need a little motivation.”

Peter pulls you to his room and opens the door, pushing you into his apartment. You try to run but he easily catches you, picking you up and throwing you on his bed.

“Why are you doing this? Why me?” you scrabble to the far side of the bed.

“You’re mine.”

Peter's phone rings and he picks it up.

“Hey, yes I did... I know It wasn’t the plan, I had to improvise… Ok, see you in a few weeks.”

He hangs up and gets on top of you. you spit in his face.

“I’m not yours freak. Let me go.”

“You won’t be allowed to act like that moving forward. Now lie still.”

“Get off of me.”

Peter gets off briefly, flipping you over his lap and pulling up your skirt. He lands a smack on your bottom.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this. You’ve been so bad baby.

“Not letting me in your apartment.”

Smack.

“Telling Rebecca you didn’t want me to you started working here.”

Smack

“Staying out all night.”

Smack.

“Shutting the door in my face.”

Smack.

“I liked you Peter, If you had just acted like a normal person we could have continued a relationship.” You say through tears.

“I don’t want a relationship, I want to own you.”

He lands another blow on your bottom and grabs your underwear, pulling them down and off of you. You try to wiggle away but he’s so strong and easily holds you down with one arm. He moves his hand between your legs and towards your sex, pushing a finger in and out.

“You’re wet for me.” He says smugly.

You close your eyes and turn your head away. You’ve stopped resisting and he lets go.

“There you go.”

He kisses your neck and cheek then grabs your chin moving your face and kissing you gently, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He pulls back and you hear him unbuttons his pants, pulling them down. You open your eyes and move away from him, pushing your back against the headboard. You watch as he holds his erection, slowly moving his hand up and down. He moves towards you and grabs your ankle, pulling you down the bed and positioning himself in between your legs. He holds onto your hips and kisses your inner thigh, moving toward your mound until his mouth is on your clit, kissing and licking. You arch your back and throw your head back, fighting against the rising orgasm. Right before you come he pulls back, smiling up at your dazed face. He rises up and slowly pushes his dick into you until you’re full. You whimper as he brings his hand down to your clit, stimulating it.

“That’s right baby,I know what you like.”

You can’t think about anything else anymore, only the orgasm that threatens to take over.

“Come Baby”

You reach out, grabbing his arms as you come. He grabs your shoulders and thrusts deep, filling you with cum before collapsing next to you, pulling you into the crook of his arm.

“Can I go back to my room now?” you ask.

“You won’t be leaving this room until I can trust you.”

“I won’t say anything. You won. You got what you wanted so just let me go.”

“You still don’t get it Y/N. You’re mine now. I know this is a hard adjustment but everything will be fine as long as you follow what I say.”

“And if I don’t obey you?”

“You’ll be punished.”

“Fuck you.”

Peter sits up next to you, grabbing his pants off the floor and pulling his belt out of the loops.

“I guess your first lesson starts now.”

---

You look around the room you live in. It’s no longer the empty minimalist space it was before you met Peter. Now it’s filled with him. Everywhere you look there are reminders of him. The shower has his body wash and razor. There are pictures of him hanging on the walls. Everything you own has been bought for you by Peter. He dictates what you’re allowed to wear, where you’re allowed to go, who can talk to. It’s all him. Every part of your life revolves around Peter to the point where you don’t know what you would do without him. You wake up to him, go to sleep to him, think about him constantly. You’re even sometimes woken up in the middle of the night to him touching you, wanting you. At some point you stop pretending you don’t want him back. You hate it but it’s true.

Your room has always been a reflection of you as a person.

#dark!peter parker x reader #dark!fic #dark!peter parker #dark peter #dark peter parker #smut

[beyondthebarrier]

Starker Festivals Summer Bingo

Prompt: Didn't Know They Were Dating | Title: Rising to the Occasion | Ao3

Summary: The media seems to think that Tony and Peter are dating. In fact, so does Rhodey. And Aunt May. And the team...

Don't worry. Tony sets the story straight.

This is my first proper Starker fic so bear with me!

It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to be alone when he woke up, if he was being honest. Tony was rarely still in bed in the mornings, presumably quick to dismiss himself from the actions of the night before. Peter never minded, usually always able to find the man elbows deep in some project that he might be able to pick the genius’ brain about.

“FRI, can you start me some coffee?” Peter asked quietly, his voice a little raspy from sleep.

“Of course. Good morning, Peter.”

“Good morning, FRIDAY.”

Peter got to his feet, finding his sweatpants from the day before and Tony’s discarded Black Sabbath shirt before making his way directly to the kitchen for the promised cup of coffee. It took a few sips for him to realize that he heard voices coming from the living room - he’d assumed he was the only one in the penthouse. He recognized the second voice easily though so he wasn’t shy about heading that way.

“Look who’s awake,” Tony announced with a smile when Peter and his bedhead popped up in the open door frame. Rhodey looked his way and Peter waved around his coffee mug.

“Hope you’re here on your own accord and not because he dragged you for some nonsense, Colonel,” Peter greeted with a smirk towards the man in question.

“I’m not here for damage control this time, miraculously,” Rhodey replied easily, chuckling.

“In that case, I’ll leave you two to it. Tones, I’m gonna shower and head downstairs. It was good to see you, Colonel!”

As Peter made his way back towards the bedroom, Rhodey looked over at Tony and sighed at the look on the billionaire’s face.

“He looks good on you, Tony.”

--

“Here, May, I’ve got it,” Tony swooped in, grabbing the woman’s empty plate before she could fully get to her feet. Peter rolled his eyes but stood as well, his own empty plate in hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Peter started, exasperated. “This man would rather buy new dishes than wash them at his own house and then he sits here and readily offers when we’re over here. Please, I need to know your secret. I’m tired of coffee rings in all the mugs.”

“Oh it’s easy, Peter. He’s scared of me,” Aunt May said in a faux whisper, winking at Tony before she settled on her sofa with the rest of her glass of wine as the boys worked to clean the kitchen. Tony washed while Peter absentmindedly dried and put away dishes, chatting away quietly to the older man. When Peter turned back to face the man, Tony quickly smeared soap bubbles onto Peter’s cheek, grinning. With a laugh, Peter reached into the sink, splashing the man with the water in the sink, despite the expensive suit Tony was wearing. Tony didn’t seem bothered as he grabbed the young man around the waist and pulled him in close for a hug, getting him wet as well. Peter squeaked, making Tony lean his head back in laughter before kissing Peter’s forehead and letting him go. Only Tony noticed the look that May was giving them both and he just smiled before turning back to finish cleaning.

As they left, Aunt May wrapped both men in crushing hugs to say goodbye. As Tony helped Peter into his jacket, he looked over his head at the woman, smiling.

“It’s our turn next Sunday, May. Be at the penthouse at seven.”

--

“I thought the little spider was supposed to be here? I brought ale for him to try!” Thor announced, holding up a large jug full of… well, not even Tony was eager to try the liquid sloshing around. Peter had been excited with the prospect of an alcohol that would give him the proper effects but Thor was right - Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe he’s just running late,” Tony replied with a casual shrug, even as he slid his phone out to send yet another text to the missing member of the team. It was meant to be a little game/movie night and Peter was usually the one coercing him into attending so his lack of punctuality was bothering Tony. However, it wasn’t until Natasha and Steve also pointed out Peter’s absence that Tony excused himself. They weren’t sure exactly where he was going until they saw the suit fly off from the landing deck, heading in the direction of a shitty little apartment in Queens.

When Peter didn’t answer the door, Tony let himself in with his key, calling out Peter’s name frantically. It was a studio apartment and Peter groggily sat up in bed, blinking at the man who had just rudely interrupted his sleep.

“Pete, there you are. You’re missing game night, why are you- You’re burning up, sweetheart!” Tony sat on the edge of the bed, the back of his hand pressing against Peter’s forehead.

“M’cold,” Peter mumbled, trying to wrap the blankets around himself again so he could lay down.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Not hungry..”

“Okay, you’re definitely sick,” Tony pointed out, jumping to his feet to search the kitchen for food. Peter spent so little time here now that the cabinets were practically barren. There was certainly no cans of soup or really… anything. With a wince, Tony reached for a half-empty jar of peanut butter and a spoon, heading back to the bed.

“Tones, m’not hungry,” Peter whined as he scooped peanut butter out of the jar.

“Sweetheart, you need calories. Just a little bit and some water and I’ll let you go back to sleep. Your body will kick this in no time but it needs fuel to do it,” Tony said firmly, lifting the spoon to Peter’s lips. He opened them, accepting the spoon reluctantly and smacking his lips as he tried to get the peanut butter down. Tony got up, fixing him a cup of water. Between the two of them, they painstakingly got a full eight ounces of water and four big spoonfuls of peanut butter into the enhanced man before Peter gave up, flopping back into the pillows.

“Are you going back to game night?” he asked Tony, a rather pitiful look on his face. Tony shook his head, laying down beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right here,” he assured, running his fingers through Peter’s sweaty curls and kissing his forehead.

--

Peter had decided to leave the tower for his lunch break, the idea of a sandwich from the deli down the block on his mind all morning. It was a beautiful day and he’d been looking for an empty space on a bench when he noticed the pointing in his direction from a few people by a magazine stand. He glanced down at himself, trying to see if maybe his shirt had come untucked or he had trash trailing on his shoe but he didn’t spot anything. However, he did hear the words, ‘Tony Stark’s boyfriend’ come from someone’s mouth and his stomach immediately twisted. He couldn’t stop himself from going over to the stand, dreading the idea of seeing Tony’s smiling face on a magazine cover with some- Oh. It was him. Peter laughed, picking up the glossy booklet. They’d attended a gala on Saturday evening for SI and the photo on the cover was the two of them all dressed up and smiling at each other in front of some rose bushes. ‘Tony Stark and boyfriend, Peter Parker, Rose to the Occasion.’ Peter scoffed at the title, setting it back down and reaching for his phone. He wasn’t sure Tony would find it as amusing as he did but he was just relieved that it hadn’t been someone else on that cover.

Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He had already known about it, getting the alert from PR hours before, and even seemed a little concerned that Peter might be upset about it.

“Do you want me to put out a statement about it?” Tony asked him over the phone, as if sensing Peter’s slight discomfort.

“You won’t be rude about it or anything, right? Just clarify, sweet and simple?” Peter asked, noticing that he was still garnering a bit of attention. Thankfully, New Yorkers themselves were usually nonchalant about that kind of thing so it was only the tourists that were trying to draw attention to him.

“Of course. I’ll get it out right away,” Tony assured him.

Peter had no reason not to believe him. He thanked him, hung up, and moved further away from the news stand. He muted his phone before digging into his sandwich, taking advantage of the rest of his lunch break before heading back to work. It wasn’t until he was in the elevator going back up to R&D that he noticed his phone was blowing up. He sighed, expecting a tweet or something from Tony laying out the truth but what he found caught him off guard.

Relationship. Tony said relationship. He hadn’t claimed that they were just friends or fuck buddies or whatever. He said relationship. Peter was so hyperfocused on the words that the next thing he registered was FRIDAY’s voice.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker, are you alright? Your vitals are concerning, should I alert Mr. Stark? ..Peter?”

“No! No, FRIDAY, no, don’t alert him, I’m fine!” Peter scrambled to answer, glancing up to see what floor the elevator was at currently. “Please don’t. I’m fine. I’m answering you, I’m fine!”

FRIDAY reluctantly agreed not to tattle just as the elevator stopped at his floor. Peter wasn’t feeling very fine, despite his protests, as he stepped out. He expected lots of stares and whispers, perhaps even direct comments about him ‘dating the boss.’ But there was nothing. Either nobody here had seen it yet or they just didn’t care. That certainly helped matters as he made his way to his table, intending on trying to focus on work but finding himself scrolling through the comments on the post instead. It was full of congratulatory messages from strangers but their friends didn’t seem very surprised. Rhodey, Nat, Ned, even Steve commented, all seeming as if this was barely news to them.

Peter got to his feet, heading back to the elevator to get to Tony’s lab. As the doors slid open on Tony’s R&D floor, Tony was standing there waiting to get on. The man flashed him his signature smile, stepping aside so he could get out.

“I was just coming to see you. May texted, said you seemed a bit out of it. Are you okay? I know the attention can be a lot but if I repeatedly make it clear that I want your privacy to be respected, it shouldn’t get too bad. Trust me, the fangirls will go rabid when reporters get too in-your-face about something,” Tony explained, leading Peter towards his office. Peter didn’t respond, staring straight ahead as Tony closed the door behind them. “They’ll want to protect you at all costs,” Tony continued, heading for the sofa instead of his chair. Peter remained standing, still just staring. Tony finally realized something was up and quirked an eyebrow at him, curious. “Pete?”

“Boyfriend.” Peter said blankly, staring at the man.

“Um, yes? I also have a name you can address me by.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oookay, that works too. Peter, what’s wrong?”

The younger man started pacing the length of the office and Tony sighed, covering his face with his hands for a moment before regaining composure.

“FRIDAY, diagnose him. Fever? Has he been drugged? Is he having a psychotic break?”

“Sir, it appears that Peter is in a state of shock,” FRI replied easily. “His heart rate is elevated but nothing to be concerned about.”

“Shock over what?” Tony asked, watching as his partner continued to pace. He could practically see the gears turning in the boy’s head.

“It seems that Peter was not aware that the two of you were dating, Sir.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh while Peter came to a halt, his cheeks tinting pink as he stared at the floor. Realizing that there may be some truth in what FRI was telling him, Tony got to his feet, carefully approaching Peter.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” He asked softly, frown lines deeply engraved into his forehead. Peter refused to respond, not even looking up. Tony sighed, cupping the man’s chin and gently lifting it. “Pete? Is she right?”

Instead of answering, Peter’s face crumpled.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Tony immediately pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him securely. “I didn’t know that’s what this was.”

“That means I fucked up somewhere, Peter. Not you,” Tony soothed, rubbing the boy’s back. “If it had just been sex, I could understand, but Pete, sweetheart. I go to Sunday dinners with your Aunt. I host Sunday dinners for your Aunt. I take care of you when you’re sick, I let you wear my clothes.. Baby, we practically live together.”

“You never asked! You never used the words dating or boyfriend or-or-or relationship or anything,” Peter defended, lifting his head to look at the older man.

“Eight months ago, we laid in bed and I told you that I never wanted this to end. That I wanted forever with you,” Tony explained. “You agreed. I thought we were pretty clear from there on.”

“I thought that was pillow talk!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m so angry right now that it’s not even funny.”

Tony frowned once more, immediately letting Peter go and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Angry? You’re angry that I thought we were dating?”

“I’m angry that I’ve been holding back for eight months because I thought I wasn’t allowed to have you! I don’t kiss you first or touch you first or cuddle you whenever I want because I didn’t want to be too much for you!”

Tony’s face broke out into a grin, seeming relieved.

“Well, let’s rectify that right away.”

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #sfsummerbingo21

[sugar-petals]

Caro would you rank figure skater's butts like you know... in a 'Caro way'?

it’s gonna be another thread. but be careful what you ask for: this is a sport that trains the glutes and thighs like mad. even the skinniest guys walk around like a coke bottle. do you survive a preview?

(^ the reigning king mr. yuzuru hanyu, i’ll talk to you about this infamous booty man in a minute)

PLUS it’s like in formula 1: by virtue of physical laws, the best are all between 5′2 - 5′8. which means visual proportions are in their favor. so brace yourselves.

PS - i rate from 1-10. i also include a frontal picture so you see the skaters properly, this thread has some pretty intense contortions and behind views as you’d expect 😂 and we also gotta enjoy how good-looking they are.☝️

let’s start with a guy who does the heavy duty jumps so you can see how figure skating shapes someone. 

^nathan chen - very underrated yale student booty, come on this is literally america’s ass! nate is pretty amazingly built in general, i wanna hear more people talking about it. when gravity is mean to his handsome face because he’s spiralling into outer space again, the chebooty steps right in for him. yes wow, it’s so big and photogenic. the waist when it twists, spectacular. 10/10

^shoma uno - the cute pup seems to be popular on my blog. you guys like him? legit. very smol guy, very curvy, very dynamic skater who comes to life on the ice. and no, this sparkly fella is not a pre-schooler. his coach and the whole figure skating world will disagree with that but shooms is 23! his thickness is legendary and has everyone around the world shook. the s-line is pretty incredible. what can i say. 10/10

^javier fernandez - retired matador, but left a legacy for sure. still a big deal after being a commentator on the world championships and everyone loves the guy so i include him. superjavi is taller and slimmer and you’re probably looking at his costumes instead (this guy did everythig in the book, halloween skills 10/10). regardless, he has a nice side profile and it looks great in motion! the angle in the picture above, chef’s kiss. 7.5/10

deniss vasilijevs - ah, everyone’s tall smart blonde latvian crush. has grown his hair into a ponytail recently so extra points. everyone who trains with stephane lambiel (pictured above) seems to be really thick hence shoma looks like that as well. deniss, not much to say, it catches your eye what’s not to like! solid. he skated a tango recently so man, he got it all. 9/10

boyang jin - he’s hilarious, i love him. like nathan: underrated big posterior! he likes eating all kinds of cakes at figure skating gala dinners and said fact grew a cake on him therefore, jin magic! he also channelled major peter parker booty vibes in his spiderman costume as well. give my favorite geek some more credit everyone, jin looks great! 10/10

jason brown - US figure skating’s number one cutest sunshine. jason lights up the world with his positivity and great body, fantastic jabooty! i mean, look at that picture man. 8/10

keiji tanaka - OOF! a skating veteran with an amazing shape. the pictures speak for themselves again. the waist, the thighs! handsome keiji is a beast. friends, i don’t have to say more. 10/10

keegan messing - a favorite canadian with SUPER emotional skating that always has a personal theme. and you can tell from a mile away that keegs is thick as hell. he wears tight clothing and is mega flexible, jesus. he recently married and i wanna congratulate his wife lane — seen above, i haven’t seen a brighter smile on a bride — on her wonderful short king. 10/10

mikhail kolyada - another underdiscussed skater who’s pretty damn good and puts on a sizzling show! mike is a perfect blend of adorable and handsome. you won’t believe it, he’s 26. well-endowed with a backside, mother russia got something to offer. the kolbooty — it’s just right. look how proportionate and that curve. 8/10

junhwan cha - the utter pride of south korea and an ever-improving amazing talent, junhwan is tall, slim, and gorgeous. to reiterate how his coach (brian orser) has summarized it at worlds yesterday: “beautiful!!” you can’t expect an elf-like 180cm giant who models for VOGUE to have a huge ass. it just wouldn’t fit into the whole elegant impression. i’ll give a low score but know that junhwan is perfect. 3/10

daisuke takahashi - a living legend that HAS to be included, the oldest on the list! dai is 35 and has to be mentioned here since he returned to figure skating! he got back so. (10/10)

yuzuru hanyu - the preview guy! yeah: whew, he vibes different. collect your jaws, everybody. the best figure skater out there obviously has a breathtaking silhouette and the juiciest royal buns. which do pretty crazy things in his routines and when they’re clad in his many fancy pants causing twitter to collapse. mind he often wears padding because his jumps are dangerous af so yuzu will gently fall. but still, everyone in the fandom knows that the yubooty is shapely and way too smacktastic to ignore. 

yuzu knows, too, his ass is seemingly in every camera and he bends himself over like nobody’s business. imo, and all his colleagues are saying that, the waist kind of steals the show even more. his torso is entirely flat so his hips stand out even more. ugh, nice thighs, too. full package (literally, no wonder he’s so confident), as always he goes the extra mile. 113/10! (112 is his short program high score and he always breaks the record so i award 113)

...hard to believe yuzu is such a smol cutie pie. 😌🌻

#figure skating #worlds 2021 #stockholm 2021 #world figure skating championships #yuzuru hanyu #shoma uno #nathan chen #daisuke takahashi #keiji tanaka #deniss vasiljevs #mikhail kolyada #junhwan cha #keegan messing #jason brown #javier fernandez #boyang jin #thread #long post #figure skating thread

[loverholland]

sunrise. pp x reader

summary: y/n finally arrived back in new york after a year in cali. not only does she find that her little corner of the world is disappearing, but that he little crush just so happened to not have disappeared. word count: ~1,900 warnings: none that I can think of. a/n: i hope you like this. this has been in my drafts since 2019 i think.

✨☁️💭🪴🪐🧋🛼🎐

Y/N’s hand touched the railing of Peter’s balcony. It was a simple apartment, one that she would expect for him to have. It was a small, one bedroom and one bath apartment that sometimes had hot water and sometimes had mice, but nonetheless, Y/N loved it. It was the first time she had ever seen his apartment other than in FaceTime, which were far and few between. He had such a perfect view of Queen’s where the tree’s sang beautiful songs and the bird’s would join in with harmonies. It reminded her of those times when she would go to Aunt May’s apartment and sit on the fire escape. She missed the yellow chipped paint and the abundance of plants. It was small and minimal but it was home. Pictures would line the walls and almost every surface that she could fill - many of them were Peter and her or Peter and his parents, but when he began bringing home Ned and Y/N, the pictures became more inclusive of their friendship.

Y/N always brought a Kodak camera everywhere. Those pictures felt the most authentic. The most real, so those were the ones she gave Aunt May. Every Christmas, every birthday, were just months worth of pictures that she could put anywhere she imagined.

Everything felt so normal, but they weren’t. Of course, they weren’t. Washington Heights experienced a blackout, one that hadn’t hit for ages. Everything was going away from her in so little time. Nail Venom was moving, shops are closing down, people are leaving. Her humble abode is leaving and it was getting close to her parent’s closing up their ?? and leaving Washington Heights for good. Leaving what she knew for good.

“Y/N?” Peter yawned. She turned her head to look at him in all of his glory. He jue woke up but he looked so stunning in the rising rays and he looked like a Renaissance painting. His curls were much messier than they were last night and his beautiful chocolate brown eyes looked like the perfect coffee that she would get back at UCLA. He was shirtless and only wore a pair of gray sweatpants and my Gods he was made right out by the Gods themselves.

“I’m here.” She whispered before turning her head back to the world in front of her. Not wanting to give it up for just a moment longer. They had practiced some Spanish, drunkenly, she must add. He was good at it, not that she would ever tell him that. Never would she imagine giving him such a big head like that.

“Are you ready to try again?” Y/N asked, implying to the previous Spanish lesson. It was so early, but she felt so at peace. The corners of her lips rising a bit more when Peter answered:

“I think I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Y/N paused, turning to leverage herself on the railing, pushing back for a moment, a wide smile spreading across her face as she looked at Peter. “Let’s go.” There was a moment as she thought of what to say. Something that he knew? Give him something hard. A curse word? She would laugh if given the chance but then the idea of her home. En Washington Heights. Her esquina was slowly leaving this earth for good, only few being able to tell the story of Washington Heights.

“Esquina?”

“Corner.” Peter answered correctly, a short lived smile creeping towards the corners of his lips. He knew he was right.

“Tienda?”

“Store.”

“Bombilla?”

“Lightbulb!”

“Too easy” she thought to herself. She turned her head to look over the horizon. The world was wonderful with how the sky was painted orange and pinks. The moon was still out, it was beautiful. And not only that but this world had Peter, the most wonderful man she had ever been lucky to know. Well, shit. Maybe not wonderful.

Last night was a lot. The lights were brighter then than any light now. The screams of joy and laughing from everyone around her, we're nothing like her experience. A drunken Peter was angry that Y/N’s father didn’t accept their relationship. He was so angry and the way he threatened his internship at Stark Industries (not that papi would get anywhere). The world felt like it was ending and it kind of did. All of Washington Heights suddenly became dark, a forgotten and hidden place in the world. The once joyful noise turned into horror and fear, everything quickly declining. And then she was alone.

In the middle of chaos, she was alone.

But now, here she is on Peter’s fire escape. The beautiful and peaceful world going on around her. Sure, it was hot. But the world was so much better. The people were quiet and asleep while the sunshine danced along the buildings. Animal’s running the streets freely before everyone woke up. Everything was right.

“You’re sure?” Y/N questioned after a moment of reminiscing. She gave him a smile after biting her bottom lip for a moment. He was right and she knew it but she just wanted to see if he was confident in himself and his answers. He hadn’t taken Spanish since high school and he claimed that he forgot a majority of it, but she always questioned it but never pushed him to speak in her native language with her.

Peter paused and pushed himself off the brick wall, taking a step towards her. His eyes searched for a reason to stop, but he couldn’t find one. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to ever find one. “I’m sure.”

“Three out of three, you did alright.” Y/N pushed herself off the railing and took a step towards Peter, her head tilting back to look up at him. She couldn’t help but be infatuated with Peter. She had only been back for a few days and all of the past feelings came flowing back. She spent so long believing that she would never be good enough for Peter that she just hid the idea of ever being with him or him sharing the same feelings. Oh, how she was wrong.

“Well teach me a little more…” he trailed, his hand going to touch Y/N’s cheek. He didn’t immediately touch her however, he wanted some form of consent and when Y/N leaned her face to touch his hand, he took that as an ‘okay’ before brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“Calor?”

“Heat.”

“Anoche?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“Last night.”

“Dolor.

“Pain?”

“That’s right.” She confirmed, eyebrows knitting together. She lifted her right hand and laid it on Peter’s chest, staring at it as the words left her lips like endless lullabies. Not taking any longer to think of what to say, she knew what needed to be said for both of them. “Llámame?”

“Call me.”

“Ámame”

“Love me.”

A breath escaped Y/N’s lips. They felt so close yet so far away from one another. Her eyes lifted away from being set on her hand on Peter’s chest to look at his beautiful, comforting eyes. “Perhaps I do-”

“Well, how do you say “kiss me”?”

“Besame.”

“And how do you say “hold me”?”

“Abrázame.” Y/N inevitably whispered, the words all making the flutter in her chest more intense. Her eyes were filled with so much joy yet so much anxiety at the same time. “Al amanezer. At sunrise.” [need to look up]

“Anything can help at sunrise.”

Y/N looked up at Peter’s eyes, she just wanted to kiss him right then and there. They held eye contact for a moment before her eyes dropped to his lips, leaning in a bit closer. She could feel how clammy her own hands were. She hated the feeling of it, but she knew this could dictate so much more especially considering her future. This action could change so much between them and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. But maybe she should just dive in head first. Her heart thumped against her chest, eyes closing for a moment as her lips parted, allowing air to escape and to his Peter’s lips.

“What will he say?” Peter pulled back, removing his hand from her cheek and dropping it down to his side, fiddling with the pocket that was hanging out of the sweats.

What a dramatic ass.

“Que dirá?”

“When he sees me around you?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together with concern. Y/N understood exactly how he felt. The fear of losing one another to her father. Losing this connection again. Y/N always believed that the time wasn’t right and that if it were destined to be, it would be.

“How do you say “Promise me?”” Peter asked, quieter than before. His forehead was pressed against hers, eyes closed as they took in the moment, hands briefly touching as a spark traced up their arms.

“Prometeme.”

“Promise me you’ll stay beyond the sunrise and that we won’t care what anyone has to say -”

“Beyond the sunrise.” Y/N cut off Peter. Their eyes met, searching for an invitation to kiss one another. The world seemed to stop at this moment. The trees' sweet songs slowed down as Peter leaned into the small space between he and Y/N. The birds stopped their harmonies and the cars stopped the melodies, it felt like the perfect interlude to any great story.

And then it just happened. Peters hand cupped her cheek like an angel cupping a baby for the first time. He softly guided her lips to his; it felt so soft and secure. His lips touched hers and in the moment she swore she was infinite. She was so alive and free in this moment. His lips melded with her like a beautiful piano melody being played. Everything that she could ever love and more was right here. Her heart pounded to the thought of him. To the action that was being played out.

Never in her wildest dream did she think she'd be kissing Peter Parker. During the sunrise. In Queens. She always thought that maybe one day, when they're older and they finally come to the conclusion, or maybe her accepting it more than she did before. She wasn't too sure how it would happen, but this was never the plan.

As quickly as it started, it ended. Peter pulled away, breathless

“Promise me you’ll stay.” Peter whispered against her lips as he pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation. Stay… how? With him? In New York? She wasn’t too sure what he meant, but those were the words she’s always wanted to speak to him. Just the act was something she thought about many times in high school. She had told herself that if she didn’t go to UCLA she would finally man up and tell Peter about her little crush and go to a school in NYC. But then she left.

“I’ll stay.” Y/N promised, her fingers interlinking with Peter’s. The pad of his thumb rubbing across the top of her hands. A promise that she would swear to fulfill. If not for her, then for him. She couldn’t imagine the world that he has around him but that world would be her’s. He would become her world in such a short amount of time.

Beyond the sunrise.

#Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x fem reader #Peter Parker oneshot #Peter Parker x you #peter parker headcanon #Peter Parker fic #peter parker smut #Peter Parker au #mine #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland one shot

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!!  Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary: 

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen? 

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here. 

---- 

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21