#peter parker drabble
Word Count: 422
Prompt - Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.
Types of kisses drabble masterlist
You were at Peter's apartment after finishing school for the day. You wanted to spend the evening with your boyfriend, watching a movie and maybe doing a little more with him.
You knew Peter had homework to do after school, you did too, the only difference was, you had finished your work a while ago now. Peter was still sitting at his desk, hunched over some maths homework that he'd been working on for a while now, you were confused as to why Peter had been working for so long, you knew he was smart, he knew he was smart too.
After a while of sitting and waiting you decided that you didn't want to wait anymore, you wanted to spend the evening with your boyfriend, at least being able to have a conversation with him, instead of him giving his homework more attention than he was giving you.
You stood up from Peter's bed, walking over to where he was sitting in his chair. You hesitated for a second before you decided to practically drape your body over his, your arms over his shoulders, your hands running down his chest. You heard Peter's breath hitch slightly causing a small smirk to grace your features.
"Baby, I need to finish this." Peter spoke, trying to lift your hands off him to no avail.
"You've been doing this one piece of homework for hours Petey, take a break with me." you mumbled, placing a kiss on Peter's neck.
"I need to finish this, love" he mumbled again.
You huffed quietly, deciding that if Peter wouldn't give you attention, you'd give him attention. You started placing more kisses on his neck, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses up the length of his neck, leaning over so you could trail the kisses to his jaw. Peter hummed quietly, clearly enjoying the attention, but he kept doing his homework.
Your lips trailed to his face, you moved your body to the side so you could actually lean over to kiss his face. You kisses his cheek, moving to kiss the corner of his mouth.
"baby." Peter begged again, you just laughed at him.
You moved and placed a kiss against his lips, Peter easily reciprocating the kiss. You smirked lightly as Peter moved away from his desk, gripping your hips and helping you sit on his lap. Peter smiled as he leant in, connecting your lips in a much more passionate kiss.
Safe to say, you managed to keep Peter distracted for the rest of the night.
General Marvel Taglist: @cabin4ravenclaw @ronimina @dorcasmeadowesx @jesuswasnotawhiteman
Peter Taglist: @amourtentiaa @moonlightbaby10 @harrypsd @pinkandblueblurbs @solarviolet
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PETER P. + PILLOW HUMPING
CONTENT: 18+. gender neutral reader. Peter is 20. desperate. pillow humping. sexually frustrated, fantasizing, hella horny peter. lusty boy stupidity. peter with a crush.
NOTES: inspo from this gifset. here’s an audio of peter moaning, and heres a porn rec of a guy thats vaguely like him in my opinion xoxo
WORD COUNT: ~1.4k
After a day with you (his favorite trainer) has thoroughly kicked his ass, Peter is many things, but most of all, he's worked up. He needs his brain scrubbed clean of your encouragement and light laughter. Your fiery eyes raking over him, your soft taunts still ripple over his skin in waves. As it has been since the arrival of his powers, his physical condition is quite...changeable. Reactive. It’s most obvious on days like today, when his physical responses are heightened, and every hint of you gets him overexcited.
Today, he was taken down. A hot blooded, magic-infused unstoppable superhero boy was stopped by the skillful strikes and energy redirection of a knowing—and very human trainer, and hours later, he's still hot about it. As he arrives back to his room in the tower, he peels off a shirt thick with your scent, and jumps directly into a burning shower that is a welcome balm to his fiery heart.
Muscles flex as he scrubs at sweat, at hairs that stand on end, and nerves that make him aware of each droplet impact that clings and falls. Dialed to 11, he once said of his senses, and he regards that fact with an exasperated sigh as one hand pushes suds through his hair...the other down to squeeze his cock, half hard and ignored for hours.
It was just training. He tries to keep his thoughts innocent. Tries to reason he’s just rubbing himself clean despite slowly fucking a loose fist, and images of you in your dry fit tank and workout pants only flash by because he is processing the day. Remembering...that move...to be prepared for the next time...your thighs around him...
He opens eyes he doesn't remember closing as his hips jerk into his fisted hand, clasping the free hand over his mouth when he cries out. The soft white lights of his bathroom seem to glow like the sky and just as he considers them, they fade to a pale clementine… as programmed by Mr. Stark to indicate that he has been using up hot water for far too long.
In the next moment, he taps the water control off and is surrounded by steam and silence as he towels off under the glow of the room, watching it lighten to normal. Once in his bedroom, he inhales lungfuls of cool air, groans soft as he squeezes his cock through the towel around his waist. Bouncing where he stands, he finds himself again in the moment when he’d hit the floor, trapped by the heat where your thighs spread over him.
C’mon. Don’t be a creep, Peter
…And yet, his temperature climbs again as images of sweaty skin push around in his mind… he thinks about being pinned down on a mat in the gym where the fans turn icy air over warm bodies. He thinks about pushing his pants down right under his ass in all the excitement, just enough to let himself out so you could ride him--use him from the top.
Some lotion and a lounge outfit later, a pressure deep down makes it harder to deny his lust… he lasts about fifteen seconds into a Rubik’s cube--an attempted distraction--before flinging himself into bed, pushing a large hand under his pants to grip himself where he's desperate. He thinks about the smell of your skin, the way it turns sweeter when you start sweating...the way he wants to witness that flip of your pheromones in bed, where there would be no interruptions from the input of other smells or racking clang of weights.
No...only your grunts, whimpers as you push yourself down on his length, hands all over. He imagines you on top, using him to get off, riding hard, leaving him breathless. One of his own hands is tight around his cock while the other rubs over his skin...chest, stomach, down to his balls. Pumping himself hard, he feels good. It’s so good. It’s...not enough.
The pleasure churning within him is low burning, but nothing is quite enough to get him right to the edge, or match the intensity of the energy that has his legs near shaking, needing to be released. Flashes of your heaving chest, huffed out breaths...
He tries porn. He ignores the fact that he finds some sort of sexual wrestling, and ends up on some role play of a yoga teacher getting fucked...or that he finds himself annoyed that the instructor does not look similar enough to you for him to pretend it's satisfying. Phone in hand, the high and sharp sounds of fake pleasure and skin slapping ring in his brain--it’s all repetitive and none of it is enough.
Tossing his phone to the side, he pulls his pants back up, rolls face down, ends up squeezing the pillow there between his thighs. The light pressure seems to corral small bursts within him, at the base of his cock, and pull it into something broader--a pleasure that wraps around his lower half. It's… new. Shifting languidly into a lazy plank, his arms support his upper half while he pulls the pillow further between muscular thighs and rucks the weight of him right up against it through his hips.
In the deep parts of him, he feels the pleasure of his past efforts, feels his cock full and hard and hot under soft fabric. Shifting his hips back to a better angle on the fluffed mound, the thickness of the sweats run silky over where the boxers have stretched to the form of his hard length and he gasps at the sudden sensitivity, hips bucking in an instinctive response.
He continues these curved strokes, panting as the drags catch onto each possible angle, pressure pushing onto him just right. He’s seeing stars, it's never been like this before. Heart in his throat as he shivers with the pleasure, he adjusts his angle slightly, flinching in reaction to the pressure on his sensitive head.
His brain is already hazy, lulling lazy as a cloud, yet flashing quick in high color images of you. From where he holds himself up, hips curving in full strokes, he imagines you under him, the sound of his hips smacking your ass as he gives it to you just the way you need. He remembers you musing to a friend about a hookup, eyes light in recollection of how they’d taken you rough. He could be the same. He could do you better.
Smoothing deliciously over the underside of his shaft, the pillow begins to sink shapeless under the quick rhythm he sets with the force of his hips, and large hands splay over it, pulling it into him, reactivating the mind blurring friction. He is practically fucking it, holding it down tight, and he imagines handfuls of you… imagines squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it. Hard.
You would squeal an innocent little thing. You are far from inexperienced. In fact, he has never seen you anything but sure. Sure of where to strike, sure of what to say, you are well versed and never caught off guard. He just wants to be the one to surprise you, just once.
Wants to make you feel good. Wants you to make him feel...whatever that was before. When the head of his cock drags with a smooth friction, his hips stutter at the thought of your pretty lips rounding the shape of breathy moans and high praises. Your hands on him, playing with the holes in his foresight and his back hitting the mat. The thick squeeze of your strong thighs around him.
Your lips. Your pretty, pretty lips. He thinks about them sealing a bruise on his collar, hot and hard, and that does him in. A couple drags backward, and his whole body is warm, desperate grunts fading into moans that sound something like your name. His hips begin to stutter as he whimpers, built up heat rushing through him, but he squeezes the pillow with his thighs one last time before pulling it back under him with the thick muscles.
Body exhausted and overstimulated with new pleasures and pressures, he only lasts a few more strokes before he falls into the mattress, practically shaking with his eyes squeezed shut as his hips move on their own before his release shoots out of him, making a mess in his pants, also slightly smeared on his stomach where the tip peaks out of his waistband. His face flushes even more--if possible, as he realizes he has never cum so hard… or so much in his life.
Just then he gets a text.
Hottest Avenger: Hey! You did so well today. Hope training didn’t take too much out of you!
You have no idea.
tags: @cocoamoonmalfoy @limenlimon @cherienymphe @fvckingavengers
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Peter Parker x Male!Reader
Cw: Nothing but fluff.
Summary: You and Peter always have one last kiss before he leaves.
You noticed Peter was hanging upside down from his webs with his suit on. That was a clear sign he had to leave.
Your hand rested on your hip as smirk spread on your lips. "You're ditching me already?" You joked, but Peter took it more seriously.
"W-what?" Peter asked. "N-no, that's not it at all! It's just that it's my job, y'know? But it's not that I don't want to be with you, Y/N, it's just tha-"
You sighed loudly cutting off the rest of Peter's nervous rant. Geez, you knew him so well that you can feel him frowning under his mask.
Peter felt the lower part of his mask slipping off, exposing his lips and nose. Before he can react, you pressed your lips against his before pulling away.
"Be careful while you're out there savin' the world, baby boy." You covered his face with his mask again. "Can't have ya coming back to me in pieces."
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His Pet Names For You
Warning: NONE! All for funzies
A/N: it’s kitten or puddin for meee!
Summary: IMAGINE. Includes: Tony, Steve, Bucky, Peter x2
Word Count: 36
Comments, Questions, Opinions :)
See more of what I have written so far: Masterlist
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The weight of life
Pairing: Peter Parker × best friend!fem!reader
Word count: 739
Warnings: crying, mentions of strict parents, probably some grammar mistakes cause ya girl didn’t re-read it.
Type: kinda hurt/comfort, fluff
Summary: Peter comforts you when you fail your math test.
A/N: My sunshine @cunningambitousdetermined unfortunately failed her test so I wrote this drabble (very quickly, may I add), I hope it makes you feel a little better! You got this, I love you <3 Whoever is reading this, I hope you enjoy it :) Believe it or not, I actually wrote this in 45 minutes, so yea, very quickly.
It’s not that you didn’t expect it, no, you had a bad feeling from the beginning, but it still hurts to know you actually failed. Being a good girl isn’t always easy, everyone having high expectations from you, setting their standards very high. The words your teacher said when she handed you the test are still fresh in your head, echoing through your mind. “I expected more of you, Y/N,” she said, disappointment present in her voice. If the grade didn’t make you feel bad, that definitely did. You have to mentally prepare yourself for more, cause you’re pretty sure that exact thing is waiting for you when you come home. Your parents are gonna be as disappointed as the teacher was, if not even more.
The bell finally rings, signaling that it’s time for a lunch break. The whole lesson flew by so fast, you being lost in your head, tuning out every single word the teacher said. That’s probably not a smart move, looking at the fact that your exam didn’t turn out okay, but there are some things in life that you just can’t control. You somehow walked to the cafeteria, your legs leading you there, even though your head is on another planet. “Y/N?” Peter almost shouts, making you jump a little. You don’t know how or when he came to sit beside you, overthinking everything you did, thinking about all the things you could’ve done better. “What’s wrong with you? Did you even hear anything I said?” he asks, you looking at him with surprise evident in your eyes. “What?” you frown, a short giggle escaping Peter’s lips. “I’ve been here for the last 10 minutes, telling you about what happened in science. Are you sure you’re okay?” he quickly becomes serious, looking at you with concern. That’s all it takes for you to run out of there, desperately trying to find someplace to cry, possibly not bumping into someone cause that’s the last thing you need, someone judging you because you’re crying. Finally finding an empty classroom you close the door, letting the tears spill, falling to your knees. But little did you know Peter ran out of the cafeteria right after you, trying to keep up with your running. He comes across the room you were in, slowly opening the door and stepping inside. “Y/N? It’s Peter, what’s wrong?” he says as he cautiously approaches, his hands in the air like he’s trying to say he doesn’t want to harm you. Looking up you try to wipe the salty tears away, but it’s too late, he already saw everything. He crouches down to your level, sitting beside you, offering you a tissue. His voice is calm and relaxed, but his face is saying a whole another story. “You don’t have to tell me, ya know. I’m here, no matter what,” he whispers, a warm smile evident on his lips. That’s the thing with Peter, he can make you feel better, without even trying and that’s one of the things you love about him. He’s kind and sweet, always knowing what to say (okay, that’s not entirely true, but in cases like these, he does). “I failed my math test.” you mutter, looking back down. After your confession, many people would probably laugh, thinking you’re stupid for crying for such a lame reason. But not Peter. No, he knows how much grades mean to you and how much pressure your parents put on you. Hell, not just your parents, teachers too. So instead of laughing, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, your head laying on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, darling. But you gotta believe me, it’s gonna be okay. One grade doesn’t define your future, you know that right?” he looks at you, seeing you nodding slightly, and that’s enough for him. “Now come on, let’s go listen to Sweet Creature on repeat, I know you like that song.” he grins, a small smile appearing on your face. “Okay.” you quietly mumble, letting him help you stand up, wiping the tears away with his sleeve. “Thank you,” you add, him handing you your backpack. “You’re welcome.” he hums in response. Maybe this grade is bad, and maybe your parents are gonna shout at you when you come home but right now, at this moment, everything is okay because he’s there, being the best friend you could have ever wished for.
Shout out to @voidmalfoy for being amazing at giving advices
General taglist: @voidmalfoy @cunningambitousdetermined @crazy-beautiful @pad-foots @fives-cup-of-coffee @scintillatea
Marvel taglist: @rorybutnotgilmore @mycosmicparadise
Feedback is very much appreciated <3
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New To Me
No Natasha part in this one because it got to be too long and so I posted it separately here.
a compilation of gender neutral (let me know if i slipped up) one-shots on new things you introduce to the avengers to.
Tony - dressing down
You'd never had much. It hadn't impacted you hugely in life, you'd always had just enough. Dating Tony put a lot of things in perspective for you both. You'd come to realize the absolute waste that came from being a billionaire. Tony had so much at his disposal and sure Pepper organized that extra food went to homeless shelters and that Stark Industries was run as eco-friendly as possible. But there was still so much.
You hated staying in Stark Towers. Everyone dressed up all the time and drank coffee that cost over six dollars a cup and it just puts you on edge. You weren't embarrassed but you suspected the one's in the fancy clothes expected you to be.
For Tony, he came to realize how much stock he put in material things. The first time he'd come to your apartment he'd tried to buy you a new one. You'd only been dating a month. You denied him because you loved your little apartment and you'd worked damn hard to get it. Rent in New York was never cheap, not even for a matchbox like your apartment.
The only change you had let him make was a security system because he really disapproved of a deadbolt and a baseball bat for anyone who got past the deadbolt. You thought it was excessive and made it look like you had something worth stealing.
Tony always looked out of place in his perfect suits sitting on your sofa that had more patches than original fabric and your new favorite hobby was debauching Tony enough that he looked like he belonged. He seemed to enjoy that too.
You were laying against him one night, his arm around your shoulders as you watched your small crappy television when you chuckled a little to yourself. He looked away from the re-run of Scrubs to where you were smiling to yourself.
"Something funny?" He asked, eyebrows raised.
"Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist is laying on my couch with me in his underwear looking completely at ease." You told him and he rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his glass. "Drinking two-dollar wine that I put in a blender so it would taste like ten-dollar wine instead."
"Don't sell yourself short, it could be at least a twenty-five-dollar wine." He teased, poking you in the ribs, watching you squirm. "I suppose it doesn't have to cost an exorbitant amount to taste okay."
Steve - this century
Steve seemed to be rethinking his whole life, staring up at the menu board and your heart dropped, watching the worry in his expression. He hadn't had a chance, they just dropped him in at the deep end and expected him to swim.
He'd told you he'd only been in Washington a few weeks and was still getting used to being out of New York and not being on official duty. You laughed and told him that he'd be missing Brooklyn in no time. Washington was nothing compared to home. That piqued his interest and he'd jumped the gun, asking you to go for coffee.
He looked to be regretting it already and you hoped it was just the choice to get coffee he was regretting, not bringing you for coffee. He read the board again, swallowing thickly before turning to you. "What's good?"
"What have you tried?" You asked. You were both standing off to the side, trying not to obstruct the customers hurrying in and out.
"Black coffee. Usually burnt because Falsworth wouldn't drink it any other way." He told you honestly and you nodded, looking over the options available.
"Sweet?" You asked and he hesitated. He was so out of his debt and you felt like it was your fault for not warning him.
"How sweet?" He asked like it was a trick question. You looked up at him as he studied the menu with the sort of determination you imagine he used for mission reports.
"Well, it ranges from 'not very' to 'probably sweet enough to rot even your teeth'." You told him honestly. "That's kind of how I drink mine. You got a favorite flavor?"
He began to look overwhelmed again and you sighed, ushering him to a seat and taking a leap of faith. "Hot or cold?"
"Sweetness on a scale from one to ten?
"Uh, a two?"
"Vanilla or caramel?"
You smiled at him, dropping your jacket over your chair and heading to the counter with determination. You were going to have coffee with Steve Rogers and nothing was going to ruin it. He was sweeter than you ever imagined and boy had you imagined ever since junior year history when his face cropped up in your textbook.
You ordered an iced vanilla latte for him and added a blueberry muffin, hoping he wouldn't mind. He was waiting patiently, watching you order your drinks and muffins with a small smile. When you presented him with your picks he smiled gratefully.
"There's just so much more." He told you honestly. "Not to betray my age but back before the ice, everything was simpler. You wanted coffee, you got a cup of tar that would sit on your tongue for hours after you'd finished drinking it. Now there are hundreds of choices when all I wanted was to get to know you over a drink."
"It's a lot for people who have spent their whole life in this century. I even get overwhelmed." You told him and he slumped his shoulders.
"You didn't need anyone to order for you." He pointed out.
"So I know coffee? I don't know anything about throwing a shield. We all got our talents, Steve." You teased and he rolled his eyes.
"You got any other talents?" He asked, taking a sip of his coffee and smiling approvingly. You beamed, proud that you'd been right.
"Plenty of talents, but you'll have to work for them."
Peter - being an avenger
You found Peter fast asleep in bed for the first time in weeks. You couldn't even be mad with him, knowing he was going to miss the first plans you'd made together in quite some time. Instead, you kicked off your shoes, slipping into his bed, hoping May wouldn't care too much.
Peter shuffled, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against his chest before relaxing back into sleep and you took the time to examine his face. The bags under his eyes were a deep purple, almost as if he'd had his nose broken. You wouldn't be surprised if that was what had actually happened either.
Peter hadn't stopped since he went to the airport to help Iron Man fight against Captain America. Between his usual patrolling, Avengers missions, and schoolwork, he'd run himself ragged. He was constantly yawning, sipping on coffee, and assuring you he was fine. You never believed him.
He made time for you still. Small, stolen pockets where he got more than ten minutes to himself. Usually late at night or very early in the morning. It meant the world to you, no matter how many times you assured him that you'd survive not seeing him if he got to catch up on his sleep.
He'd spent all of yesterday catching up on homework so that you could spend the whole day together today, having planned everything himself, promising romance. You preferred this. The quiet of his breathing, his arms wrapped around you, and the peace of his little bedroom.
He didn't wake until mid-afternoon, snuffling against your neck. You began to run your fingers through his curls, just how he liked it. He mumbled some nonsense against your skin before groaning. "I slept in, didn't I?"
"It's okay." You promised, continuing to play with his hair. "You were tired, I was tired. This was enough."
"But we were going to go to the zoo." He groaned and you smiled against the top of his head. He was tracing patterns against the small of your back where your t-shirt had ridden up.
"The zoo will be there when we want to go again. You needed the sleep. I promise you, this is okay." You whispered and he hummed against your neck.
"What happens when you get sick of me being tired all the time or when you get sick of me never being around?" He asked. You frowned against his hair, trying to think of an answer better than denying it.
"Then I kick you out of your bed and drag you to the zoo. Or I come over like I did this morning and I wait for you so we can spend time together. And if that stops working then we'll find something else. Relationships are about work Peter and I know you're not scared of some hard work." You told him with a laugh.
"It's just so hard." He whispered and you felt tears against your skin. You let him cry knowing that it was a build-up of everything he'd been trying so hard to contain for weeks now.
"I know but if there's anyone I know that can do it, it's you."
Bruce - being put first
It always surprised him when you came looking for him on the evenings he'd gotten absorbed in his research. You'd made it a rule, no lab after the sun sets. He needed to take a break every once in a while. He hadn't expected you to enforce it, coming looking for him in the evenings, rapping your knuckles on the door, eyebrow raised expectantly.
It had been a long time since someone had noticed his absence and wanted that to change. He wasn't used to being on someone's mind as more than a scientist or a nightmare. He wasn't used to you.
You had tore into his organised life and ripped it to shreds the day you joined the Avengers. You had sarcasm to rival even Tony and enough determination that you made Steve look manageable. You were stubborn and brave and everything he never knew he needed.
He'd done nothing about it, of course. Watching you from afar, admiring the way you threw yourself into battle when he shied away from it. You were amazing and incredible and entirely out of his league. Not that you thought as much.
It had been the Hulk's fault. Seeking you out in battle, watching your back and smashing anything that dared approach you. The Hulk had a crush. A huge, glaring, obvious crush. Bruce and the Hulk had never shared anything but a body and even that had to change for the Hulk to be satisfied. He never imagined that something like this would happen.
You began taking over Natasha's lullaby, telling the Hulk that you'd see him again soon but for now you needed Bruce. The Hulk was like a toddler, stubborn but eventually giving in when you made him promises he would probably never remember.
You had come to him of course. It never would've happened any other way. You found excuses to end up in his lab, asking him questions that sent him off on tangents you would never understand. But you loved hearing him talk about it anyway.
It had been one of those tangents that had done it. You had been listening to him explain nano technology for almost twenty minutes when you kissed him. He had frozen in the act, unsure of how to proceed. "It's a kiss Banner, surely you know what a kiss is."
So he'd kissed you, just to prove that there was nothing he didn't know, of course.
Then he'd hidden from you for almost a month until Tony had given in and told you where he was. You'd found him in a small apartment in Bed-Stuy, Clint's apparently. He hadn't expected you to come looking. You assured him that you would continue to do so.
He got used to it.
Bucky - Non-violent touch
Touch starved. That's the label they had put on him. He was starved for touch. He didn't think of it as starved so much as a mild hunger. He could survive without it. He had been surviving ever since he'd come back. Everyone presumed he'd have an aversion to touch after only ever being hurt for decades. Even Steve was careful not to make contact with him.
You weren't afraid. He suspected it was because you didn't know. He'd been sitting in a cafe, trying to put his list together like his therapist had suggested. The people he owed apologies to. Tony was top of the list, Natasha a close second. Steve didn't think he should have to apologize.
You had rushed in from the rain, bumping into his chair. You reached out to steady yourself at the same time he reached to steady you, his flesh hand catching yours. He inhaled in so suddenly he choked on the bite of pie he'd just taken.
"Oh, sorry. I was trying to get out of the rain." You apologised and Bucky coughed again, clearing his airway.
"No, uh, no problem." You walked away then, reappearing with a shy smile when there were no other seats available. He left the cafe that day with your number, a date and a want that overpowered anything he'd ever felt before.
Date after date gave Bucky a small fix at a time until he came clean, told you everything right up to how badly he wanted to touch you. You had cried at all the pain he'd been through then folded him into your arms and held him tightly.
And so it evolved, there was rarely a time when you were both together that you weren't touching in one way or another. It was usually you who initiated the contact. To Bucky, you were precious, something to be gentle with.
You met his friends. Slowly in what you were sure were staged accidents. Steve first, his best and most loyal friend. You had been sitting on one of the soft sofa's in Avenger's Tower, leaned against Bucky, one hand running through his hair. He was like a cat, almost purring and scowling when you stopped.
Steve came in and hesitated, taking in the scene before pulling Bucky aside. You hadn't thought much of it, extracting yourself from him and smiling when he assured you he wouldn't be a minute.
"You can tell them to stop." Steve muttered, too low for you to hear. Bucky frowned, looking back at you to see what it was that you were doing that was so bad. "You don't have to make yourself uncomfortable to be with her."
Bucky looked away from watching you channel surfing. You looked as determined as any of his teammates out in the field. He chuckled before giving Steve his attention.
"I've never been more comfortable in my life." He promised Steve.
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TW: Self Harm
He had always loved hoodies that sleeves were so long that they went far past his hands. It was just a bonus that his hands were always covered. Shielding May from the bloody and bruised knuckles. He knew it would break her heart, and that woman had enough heartbreak already. Sometimes Peter would just stare at his knuckles as if they were works of art. He knew they weren’t and he knew this wasn’t healthy. But he was a super-healing mutant, and the marks would fade quicker than any normal person. So as he tracked his way back to the gym with clean knuckles covered by unbroken skin. It was time to paint the punching bag.
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Take a Break
you work too hard and the avengers all have different ways of convincing you to take a break and spend time with them.
a compilation of gender neutral (let me know if i slipped up) one-shots on how different avengers would convince you to take a break. First time writing something like this, my requests are open but I'm only just finding my footing so give me a chance!
“Now hear me out, sweetheart. You ever consider, this is a bit of a wild concept so bear with me, you ever think that maybe you should take a break?” You looked up from the screen, blinking when you found it had actually gotten dark out at some point. Tony was standing in front of you and you blinked again, looking to your watch for the time.
“The king of ‘I’ll work until I fall’ is telling me to take a break?” You ask with an incredulous laugh. “You run off caffeine and spite most days.”
“That’s how dire our situation has become. I haven’t seen you in three days. You’re asleep by the time I get to bed and gone by the time I wake up.” He pouted.
“Because not all of us have the sleep schedule of a teenager. You don’t come to bed until early morning and you stay in bed until at least noon.” You reminded him. He shrugged, knowing you were right but that never stopped him when he was trying to push his own agenda.
“Take tomorrow off, I’m the boss. I make the rules.” Tony ordered, gesticulating with a screwdriver he had pulled out of thin air.
“Pepper is the boss, Mr. Stark. Besides, you only want me to take the day off to have sex and that is misconduct in the workplace.” You began working on shutting your computer down, rotating your shoulders when you realized how stiff you were.
“So tell HR and then call in sick. I’ll buy you Chinese take-out and your favorite bottle of wine.” He bargained and you rolled your eyes, pushing back from the desk. He came around behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and beginning to rub the tension away.
“You don’t have to buy my favorite bottle of wine. Pepper told me you keep the wine cellar stocked with at least five bottles at any one time. You bought shares in the vineyard.” You sighed, leaning forward so he had better access to your back.
“This would be much more fun in bed. With fewer clothes. And wine that I may or may not already have in the cellar.” You couldn’t deny that he drove a hard bargain and you laughed, slipping your shoes off and carrying them in your hand as you let Tony guide you to the elevator.
“I can take the morning off but I need to be in the office for twelve.” You warned.
“Sure thing but now you owe me a massage.”
“You know, staring angrily at the screen doesn’t intimidate it. I’ve tried.” You looked up when Steve made his way into your office and you gave him a small smile before returning to your stare off with the stupid computer.
“You don’t know how to do it right. You back down too easily, Captain Rogers.” You told him and he laughed, coming to sit on the edge of your desk.
“Is that right?” He asked, grinning at you in that way that made you melt. He was grinning like that All American Golden Boy that everyone thought he was. You knew different, just how ungolden that mouth could be when he wanted to.
“Twenty-first-century technology can sense fear. Never forget that.” When nothing changed on the screen you sighed and pushed away from the desk, looking him over. He was dressed down, something you loved to see. The t-shirt was two sizes too small, as usual, and a pair of grey sweatpants which made your eyes narrow.
“Dressed like a man on a mission.” You spoke up and his grin turned into a smirk.
“Noticed that, did you?” He asked, moving so he was sitting in the way of your computer screen. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a kiss before straightening up again.
“Mission objective?” You asked, slightly dazed.
“Getting you to take a break. Maybe some office sex if I get lucky.” He shrugged. Part of you wanted the world to see this man. Steve Rogers was nothing like the paragon of manners and faith everyone thought he was. At the same time, you wanted to keep this for yourself, a secret for just the pair of you.
“And you always get lucky.”
“Oh, I’m not very good with tears.” You looked up to find Peter sitting on your window sill, hesitating. You wiped your eyes, aware you probably looked a mess but it was Hell Week so it was to be expected. You’d been studying all week, fixing up loose ends and adding the finishing touches to your assignments. Only for your computer to crash.
“This is why I should’ve listened when you told me to back up my work.” You sobbed and Peter looked mildly panicked, pushing off the window ledge and making his way into your dorm room. He tossed his backpack on your bed and made his way over to you, careful not to stand on any of your open textbooks.
“What happened?” He asked and you began to cry in earnest, exhaustion taking over.
“It’s just crashed and it won’t turn back on and all my work is gone and I’m going to fail and be homeless and stop kissing my neck we are not having sex right now!” You didn’t realize you were yelling until you reached the end of your sentence. Peter only laughed against your neck, hugging you from behind.
“I’m not trying to have sex. I’m trying to calm you down because you’re very stressed.” He whispered in your ear, rocking you from side to side. “I came here thinking I could persuade you to come for a rooftop picnic.”
“Not a chance.” You argued, shaking your head. You hated to admit it but the gentle rocking motion was calming you down.
“Now I’m not going to try to persuade you, just kidnap you instead. So put on a hoodie and let’s go.” He pulled out his phone, typing for a minute before looking over at you when you hadn’t moved. “Rooftops are cold, I’m not kidding.”
“I’m not going.” You insisted, turning back to your dead computer.
“Kidnapping implies you’ve no choice.” He reminded you, heading to your closet and pulling out a hoodie that was actually his. He looked at it for a minute before rolling his eyes and bringing it over to you. You ignored him when he attempted to hand it to you. “Easy way or hard way?”
When you didn’t answer, instead poked the power button on your monitor half-heartedly, he shoved the hoodie over your head and you huffed, putting it on and untangling yourself. He smiled triumphantly and pulled his backpack on. “Peter I really don’t have the time.”
“When we come back I’ll help you get organized but you need a break.” He urged and you gave in, knowing that if you didn’t give in now you would later.
It wasn’t until you were sitting wrapped in his arms on the roof of some high rise that you got a text from your roommate asking why she’d come back from a study group to find Tony Stark taking your computer apart that you realized Peter’s plan.
“There’s steam coming out of your ears.” You looked up at Natasha, eyes narrowed. “You’ve been taking tips on looks that can kill. I’m almost proud.”
“Not now Nat. I’m not in the mood.” You snapped and she looked affronted, jaw-dropping in shock. You never spoke to her like that. You’d always been overbearingly sweet.
“Okay, take that attitude and park it.” Natasha made her way into the room, pushing off the doorway she’d been leaning on. You’d tell her later that she was trying to look cool and she’d laugh and shrug letting you know she was cool. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that the Hulk smashed not one, but two national monuments today. Do you know how much paperwork I have to fill out before he becomes an international criminal?” You asked, typing while talking. Natasha was impressed when you found a second to look up at her but your fingers still flew across the keyboard.
“There is not one person on the team that isn’t an international criminal.” She reminded you. “Also Bruce saved countless lives today.”
“Well Dublin City apparently doesn’t care about the lives saved but they were very fond of The Spire.” You told her bitterly. She took a seat on your desk and you pulled paperwork out from under her thigh.
“The big metal poll?” Natasha asked, unimpressed. “I thought that was like a signal booster something.”
“Well it wasn’t and the Irish are pretty pissed off.” Natasha waited, knowing whatever was really bothering you was coming to the surface. “You saved their lives and they’re worried about a fucking piece of metal! You guys could’ve been really hurt.”
There it was. Nothing got you fired up like people who hated the Avengers for doing their job. You put your head in your hands and took several deep breaths before sitting back in your chair and looking up.
“Feeling better now that you’ve gotten it out of your system?” She asked, eyebrow raised and you nodded, smiling apologetically.
Natasha only grinned, moving so she was straddling your thighs in the office chair and you wrapped your arms around her waist, hugging her close. “Any injuries?”
“None. I’m good at what I do.” She promised and you huffed a small laugh.
“I’ll give you that much. Once you set your mind to something you always impress.” You told her, biting your lip to hide your smirk. “Like last night.”
“But practice makes perfect, got an hour to spare?” She asked, sitting back in your lap to take in your expression.
“For you? Always.”
“I don’t suppose I can convince you to step away from the microscope?” Bruce asked quietly. You looked away from the samples and found him standing in the doorway, a takeaway coffee cup in his hand and a wrapped sandwich. You hesitated and he smiled gently, waving the coffee cup.
Unlike Tony, Bruce was a stickler for the no food and drink in the lab rule. So to get that coffee you’d have to take a break. You weighed the pros and cons of stepping away from the lab for a few minutes before sighing and shrugging off your lab coat, dropping it over the back of your seat.
Bruce smiled at you as you met him in the door, taking the coffee and following him to the small canteen area that was on the lab floor. He sat with you, his own coffee and sandwich waiting for him and you narrowed your eyes. “If I had said no-“
“I’d have let you eat in the lab this once.” He told you and you smiled, unwrapping your sandwich.
“Breaking rules for me, Dr. Banner?” You asked, examining the contents of your sandwich and smiling happily when you found all your favorite fillings.
“Since the beginning.” He told you honestly, ducking his head. You reached your hand out to cover his and he smiled at you, lifting his sandwich with his free hand. You knew how much he risked, being with you. He had been terrified in the beginning, avoiding anything that would raise his heartbeat even slightly, just in case.
He’d gotten over it slowly but it had taken some time. A lot of coaxing on your part and now here you were.
Tony joked about ‘nerd love’. He was the only one that could draw you away from the lab and you were the only one that could talk him into leaving the tower for more than missions.
Bruce had, to a small degree, rejoined the world and you were proud of him every day.
“So, anything changed with your parasitic worms yet?” He asked, genuinely interested, giving you the chance to talk about your project just because he liked how you looked when you were passionate about something.
“Quit your job.” Bucky groaned from the bed, watching you get dressed. "I'll keep us afloat.”
“You know I can’t. It’s just for a little while longer.” You assured him, fixing your hair. He groaned again, sitting up. The blankets fell to pool in his lap and you were reminded of how little he was wearing.
“Your boss is an ass, take Stark up on his offer.” He urged, rubbing his eyes with his metal fist. He wasn’t wrong. Your boss was an ass with unreasonable expectations of your commitment to the job. It’s just this was everything you had been working for and you were so close to getting promoted from an assistant.
“I’m not taking a job from Stark just because we’re dating. He’s got the best legal team in the world, people will wonder why I’m getting a job coming from being an assistant to an assistant.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull your shoes on.
Bucky took his chance to sit forward, kissing a path up your shoulder to your neck and you sighed, leaning back against him. “It’s four in the goddamn morning and they’re calling you in for a fucking coffee run.”
“It’s my job.” You sighed. He was angry for you because he knew you’d never speak out against the way you were treated. You just knew it could be worse, so much worse so you decided to grin and bear it. “I can’t just coast around on your name.”
“My name ain’t worth much, Doll.” He whispered into your neck.
“Worth everything to me. I don’t want people thinking that I used you to get to Stark.” You told him honestly. He laughed quietly and you squirmed from the ticklish sensation against your neck.
“Using the man who murdered his parents to get a good job?” He asked, smirking against your skin.
“That wasn’t you.” You argued. “That was The Winter Soldier. You’re not him.”
“Bit early for a therapy session. Just talk to Stark. He wouldn’t hire you if he didn’t think you were worth it.” Bucky sighed and groaned, pulling away from you when your phone began to buzz again. He flopped back in the bed and your whole body ached to just crawl in beside him and ignore the messages.
“I’ll call him later. At a reasonable hour.” You promised, blowing Bucky a kiss from the doorway. He raised his flesh hand, pretending to catch it, and pressed it to his heart, all without opening his eyes. You smiled, closing the door behind you.
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the thing about skip westcott was that there was a dozen of him. he was everywhere.
skip was the man standing on the corner of 35th and 6th, jeans in tatters and shoulders leaning against the side of the building in a lazy sprawl. his fingers were near his mouth, and it was just a cigarette, but for a minute peter thought it was that sucker that skip used to trap behind his disgusting lips. and when the man leered, eyes flicking up and down in what seemed to be a practiced move— and god peter hated that, the fact that it was a practiced move— peter balked for a second, the man’s hazy high eyes turning into skip’s rough gaze pinning peter to what used to be his favourite bunk bed as easily as the strength in his forearms belied. but the man wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at felicia, and felicia didn’t give him a second glance as she strode on forward, while peter hurried to catch up.
skip was the employee scooping ice cream behind a glass shield, a glass shield that peter knew he could break with one flick of his fingers, so it didn’t feel particularly safe. johnny had asked for their best flavours, because of course he had, and peter was sure he wasn’t imagining the worker’s drawl when he flipped the ice cream scooper in his hand with practiced ease, casually telling them that the cherry flavour’s not bad, it’s my personal favourite. and peter suddenly fought the urge to go to the bathroom, slam the door shut with every ounce of his strength and vomit because the worker’s face was suddenly shifting, changing into skip’s as he sucked that stupid cherry sucker, then made peter lick the taste of cherry out of his mouth no matter how hard peter struggled. then peter blinked, and the worker was just smiling kindly at them, asking them which flavors they wanted. johnny got a chocolate sundae, and peter got lime.
skip was the haggard looking father in the corner store, a small child on his hip and a slightly larger one tugging on his hand. there were dark marks under his eyes, ones that peter knew were mirrored in his own, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the man. but then, he glanced around quickly, ensuring that no one except peter was looking, and grabbed a back of sliced bread, lightning fast. he stuffed it under his oversized coat, hiding the lump behind his kid. he looked up at peter and hoarsely said, let’s keep this between me and you, eh? and suddenly he wasn’t a tired, hungry man in a shop, but a gangly yet menacing teenager, ruffling peter’s hair with hands much gentler than they were thirty minutes ago, getting ready to leave since may and ben should be back soon. peter was huddled up on the sofa, blankets piled up until only his face was visible, and he couldn’t do anything but numbly nod in fear when skip shot him a wink and told it to keep it to himself, or else. then, one of the children let out a cry, and the man was himself again, his kid’s shoulder soothingly. peter gave the man a quiet smile, then let him slip out the door unnoticed.
it’s not him, peter reminded himself, over and over and over again. it’s not him.
would you like a side of trauma with your angst?
tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption
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peter parker x stark!daughter their first time smut
notes/summary: car smut. i am literally supposed to be studying but i hate math. feel free to continue dropping requests or thoughts into my inbox. everyone featured is of age.
It was your standard “have her home by midnight” and Peter wasn’t about to waste any time.
You were tucked in the backseat of his aunt’s Buick, him hovering heavy over your chest, shirts strewn off to the side a long time ago. His lips are quick, and so are his hands. You feel him all over; fingertips like greased lightning across your flesh in a game for more.
More time. More of you. More of everything. He just couldn’t get enough.
I’m gonna give you something to remember me by. Every time you take your pretty little top off, it’s gonna be me underneath. Every goddamn time.
Granted, you can’t complain. Your dad was sending Peter on a mission somewhere along the West Coast, and you would be lying if you said the thought of all the bikini tops and miniskirts he would be around didn’t make you the least bit nervous. The California sunshine had a certain effect on people.
This was as much for him as it was for you.
His teeth drag across your skin in a way that you can only describe as a gnaw of sorts. Like a dog to a bone. He’s hungry.
“I love you.” You breathe.
The words cause him to hitch. Peter lifts his head from where it’s buried in between the juncture of your neck, honey brown orbs swallow you in with a newfound desire. Your stomach flips.
“D’you mean that?” His voice is husky, and there’s a little crackling to it. The kind you would hear if you were sitting before a fire, and the night sky was threatening to blow it out, turn it into dust. It was the kind that falters.
A heartbeat. Then, two. You start again. “You don’t have to say it back. Just thought you should know since, y’know, you are ditching me for a mon-”
He catches the last of your sentence between his lips. Swallows the sound, lets it run down his throat, lets it sit in the pit of his stomach where butterflies bed. Just as you’re about to kiss him back, he pulls away. Foreheads flush against each other, noses brushing.
“I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you.” States Peter. That’s how he says it - a statement. Like it was the most obvious thing.
Like you should have known all along.
Neither of you waste much time after that. The rest of your clothes are tugged off, lips collide in a manner so eager and ravenous, it was as though the burgers you had a couple of hours ago never even happened. Peter tastes of strawberry milkshakes and tomatoes, and his scent is pure, pure adrenaline. Legs entangled, fingers intertwined, he fills you up so whole you almost feel complete. Like this is where he belongs.
There’s a burning between your legs, and you buck your hips up impulsively. Your head skyrockets up a bit to bite down on his collarbone as you let out something of a groan into his skin there. Tears brim your eyes. This wave of both pain and pleasure hits you - hard.
“Shit.” Moans Peter. “Shit, shit, shit, sh-”
One hand steady on your waist, the other finds its way into your hair and he gently pulls your head back just enough to see your face. Your eyes are still squeezed shut as you feel his fingers tuck stray strands behind your ears. “You’re so pretty, baby. So, so pretty.”
He still hasn’t moved. He’s waiting for you.
“Peter.” You cry.
“Sh. Sh. Lemme look at you for a sec.” He cooes. “Wanna remember this forever.”
Then, your eyes flutter open. His gaze is heavy under hooded lids, but there’s something of a drunken smile on his face. He brings his forehead up to yours again, his lips brush against yours but he doesn’t kiss you. Just lets the two of you be in each other’s presence.
“I wanna remember this forever.”
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My Hero || Peter Parker
pairing: civilian!peter x avenger!reader
summary: when your boyfriend, peter, gets invited to the stark gala for his internship, you have to try to make it through the night without him finding out that you’re secretly an avenger
a/n: peter is in college here! finally another oneshot for our boy petey- reblogs and replies are super appreciated!
word count: 3.9k
warnings: reader has spidey’s enhanced senses, there’s a gun, fluff
masterlist || request || taglist
Pushing open the door of the building you had just had class in, your eyes immediately met those of your boyfriend sitting on the bench waiting for you outside. As soon as you saw him a smile reached across his face and he pushed himself out of his seat, making his way over to you.
“- So I don’t know how I got one of these-” Peter started rambling, walking beside you. “They handed it to me and in my head I was like ‘this has to be a mistake’ you know? ‘Cause there’s no way I would get invited-”
“Woah, Peter, slow down!” You laughed, turning to your boyfriend. “What are you talking about?”
Realizing that he hadn’t even told you what he was going on about, Peter stopped and began shoving his hands through his pockets. When you stopped your pace in front of him, you watched as Peter pulled an envelope out of his pocket.
“What’s that for?” You asked.
A smile spread across his face once again as he pulled the invitation out of the envelope.
You swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you saw Stark Industry’s logo printed on the piece of paper.
“It’s for this party thing-”
“-Gala.” You corrected him.
“Yeah!” He said. “Gala! It’s for this gala that Mr. Stark is hosting and you know- at first I didn’t think I could be invited, but it has my name and everything.”
You began to tap your feet as he explained this all to you, feeling your anxiousness grow.
“So, are you going to go?” You asked, praying that he wouldn’t say the answer that you were sure he was going to give.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked.
You knew it was a rhetorical question. At least in Peter’s mind there wasn’t a logical reason as to why a 19 year-old intern for Stark Industries shouldn’t go to a Gala- it could open so many doors for him and it was a rare honor- but you knew things that Peter didn’t. To be more exact, he didn't know the things you were keeping a secret from him.
You had known about the Gala before Peter had even mentioned it because you had been invited yourself, not as a Stark intern, but as an Avenger. You had only found out you had abilities a few months ago when you had been bitten by a radioactive spider. Later you had been discovered by the group, but managed to have your identity remain a secret.
It’s not that you didn’t trust Peter enough to tell him- you were going to tell him- just not yet. You needed more time.
This Gala invitation felt like Tony Stark was purposefully trying to ruin your life, despite the fact that you had never informed him- or any of the Avengers for that matter- that you and Peter Parker, his intern, were dating.
“Of course I’m gonna go!” He said. “Mr. Stark invited me. This is big for me, Y/n. And... guess what?”
“What?” You asked, not particularly enjoying where this conversation was headed.
“I have a plus one.” Peter said.
Of course he did.
“Oh that’s awesome, Pete!” You smiled, beginning to walk in the opposite direction once again. “I’m sure May would love to go!”
Jogging to catch up with you, Peter grabbed hold of your arm, pulling you back.
“May?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why would I ask May? I want you to go with me.”
Looking at your boyfriend, you felt so guilty for lying to him. He was the sweetest person you had ever met and as he smiled at you, hopeful to have you on his arm at tonight’s event, you couldn’t find it in you to say no to him.
“I’d love to go, Peter.” You said. “Pick me up at seven?”
“Yeah- wait.” Peter said quirking his eyebrows again. “How did you know it was tonight?”
“Oh!” You chuckled. “I... I don’t know why I figured that. So... seven?”
Slowly nodding his head, your boyfriend nervously chuckled. “Yeah, seven.”
“Okay!” You exclaimed, leaning in to peck Peter’s cheek before pulling away. “I have to go meet my professor. See you later!”
And with that you took off in the other direction, your mind filled with worries about tonight’s event, planning ways in your head to keep your double life a secret from your boyfriend. As you did, Peter watched you walk away, still glued to his spot sensing that something just wasn’t right.
Clipping on your earrings, you heard the sound of Peter’s knuckles meeting your door, lightly knocking. Pulling the door open, your eyes met Peter’s and you smiled.
“What do you think?” You asked, gesturing at the dress you were wearing.
You watched as Peter’s jaw practically dropped and he reached out his hand for yours.
“W-woah.” He said in awe, a smiling reaching across his face as he pulled your hand, twirling you around. “You- you look so beautiful, Y/n.”
Despite the anxiety that you were feeling about the night ahead of you, you couldn't help but smile at his compliment. No matter how often he called you beautiful, you still became a smiling mess every time.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Parker.”
He didn't. Standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but notice how much your boyfriend had gone out for the Gala tonight- adorning a a black tuxedo, his hair slicked in a way that you were sure was his Aunt’s doing.
“Since when do you have a tux lying around?” You asked, tugging on the labels of his jacket.
“I rented it a few hours ago. May picked it out.” He told you, resting his hands on your waist. “D-does it look okay? I thought it might look better than the old suit at-”
Pulling on the lapels once more to bring his lips to yours, you kissed him, quickly shutting him up as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. Smiling and pulling away you straightened out his jacket.
“You look amazing, baby.” You whispered. “Now let’s get going shall we, Mr. Parker?”
Stepping out of the cab and onto the sidewalk outside of the museum where the Gala was being held, the thoughts that you had been pushing aside for the last nine hours suddenly came to the surface as your heart began to race in your chest.
How were you going to keep everything a secret? You hadn’t even told the other members of your group that you would be attending with your boyfriend... your boyfriend who didn’t know that you had super-human abilities or that you were one of them.
As Peter laced his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly before guiding you towards the building, you gave him a soft smile while all you could do in your head was attempt to haphazardly form a plan.
Stepping inside the foyer of the museum, it was clear that no expense was spared for the night. The room was filled with people you didn’t recognize, waiters with flutes on trays weaving through the crowd. The sound of the orchestra playing mixed with the sounds of the hundreds of conversations around you.
It was times like these that you weren’t so glad to have your abilities, the light of the chandelier glowing brighter in your eyes as your enhanced hearing tuned in on ten conversations around you.
Unlacing your fingers from your boyfriend’s, you pulled him closer.
“I’m going to go find the bathroom, okay?” You told him. “I’ll be back.”
“Already?” He asked. “Do you want me to wait outside or-”
“No!” You exclaimed a bit too excitedly before lowering your voice. “I’ll find you.”
Before he could say anything else, you pushed through the crowd of people, leaving the foyer of the museum to find an empty hallway. When you finally pushed through your last person, reaching an empty exhibit within the museum, you slumped against the all.
Why did you think this was a good idea? Although Peter would have initially been upset with you declining his invitation and Tony Stark would no doubt find it suspicious that you cancelled so last minute on his end, at least you would be spared from the nervousness you were feeling now as your hands became clammy and the air felt as though it grew thicker by the second.
“Y/n?” You heard a familiar voice ask.
Pulling yourself away from the wall and glancing over your shoulder, you looked up to see Natasha Romanoff standing in the doorway of the exhibit.
“Sorry,” You said, playing with one of the bracelets adorning your wrist. “I can leave if I shouldn’t-”
“It’s okay, kid.” She said, smiling. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“Yeah,” You said, chuckling. “That’s because I came with my boyfriend.”
Tilting her head, she smiled.
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. So your boyfriend came with you?”
Although you knew what she meant, you shook her head.
“Nope,” You told her, popping the p. “I came with my boyfriend. He... he’s an intern for Stark. He thinks I’m here as his plus one.”
“... But you’re an Avenger?” She said.
“He uh.. he doesn’t know that.”
You felt guilty finally saying it out loud, confessing to your mentor that you had been lying to your boyfriend about not only having super-human abilities, but about being a part of the Avengers, risking your life to save others almost weekly.
Rather than lecturing you, she made her way over to you, leaning against the wall beside you.
“I can understand that.” Natasha said before sighing. “But... I also understand what it’s like to live a double life, Y/n. You can’t keep living like this. It’ll make you sick and at some point you’ll lose yourself in the two.”
“But how can I tell him?” You asked, turning to face her. “I’ve been lying to him for so long and he’s just so sweet, Nat. He’d be so worried about me if he knew.”
“You said he’s nice, right?” She asked, smiling as you nodded. “Then tell him. He’ll understand and if he doesn’t... at least you’ll feel better because right now you look like shit.”
Scoffing at her insult you elbowed her. “Thanks, Nat.”
Patting your back and shoving herself off of the wall, she laughed. “What am I if not honest?”
Before you could throw her another snarky comment, however, you watched as she strolled out of the exhibit, heading back into the Gala.
Letting her advice sit with you, you knew that she was right. You had never been as stressed as you were hiding your identity from your boyfriend. You were actually less anxious fighting bad guys than when he would go to grab a pencil from your drawer where you kept your web shooters when the two of you were studying.
You had to tell him- if not for your sake at least his own.
You were afraid to tell him, but Nat was right.
He deserved to know. He was your boyfriend and one of the most kind, honest and understanding men you had ever met- he deserved to know what his girlfriend was up to every night and even the danger he was putting himself in by choosing to be yours.
You decided then that you were going to tell him... except not tonight. Tonight was his night- the night where he finally felt like an appreciated member of Tony Stark’s staff- and he didn’t deserve your limelight ruining it.
Straightening the dress you were wearing, you made your way out of the exhibit and back into the expansive foyer of the museum. Tuning in your hearing, you looked for your boyfriend, but when you heard his voice muffled with Tony Stark’s... it was too late to turn around.
“Y/n!” You heard Peter call. “I’m over here!”
Taking a deep breath, you waved back to your boyfriend, forcing a wide smile onto your face. Striding over to Peter, your eyes met Tony’s whose quickly went wide as he pieced together the situation in front of him.
Before he could open his mouth, however, you extended your hand to him.
“Mr. Stark!” You exclaimed. “It’s so nice to meet you. Peter’s told me so much about you- I’m a huge fan- really.”
Slowly taking your hand and shaking it tightly, he quirked his eyebrows, staring at you for a moment before turning back to Peter.
“Parker,” Tony said, pulling his hand away. “if I knew you had a girlfriend like her, I would have promoted you sooner.”
You felt Peter’s hand wrap around your back to rest on your waist as he smiled brightly.
“W-well thank you, Mr-”
“You know,” Tony said, cutting him off. “I just can’t get over it. She looks exactly like this girl I know. What did you say your name was again?”
You should have figured that Tony was going to give you a hard time.
“Y/n.” You told him, through gritted teeth.
“Y/n...” He said your name again, before chuckling. “God I almost feel like I’m talking to her-”
Before he even had the chance to finish his sentence, however, you heard the overwhelming sound of the glass window that spanned the length of the room shattering behind Tony. Turning your attention to the area, you watched as a large robot-like creature climbed its way into the foyer, kicking it’s legs through the remaining wall. Behind you the crowd of people began to erupt into screams as they rushed out of the doors of the museum.
“Holy shit!” You shouted, stunned by the android.
At your side you felt Peter’s hand grip yours and when you turned around to face him, you watched as he attempted to pull you in the other direction towards the door, tugging on your hand.
“Y/n, we have to get out of here!” He exclaimed.
You had hoped you had more time.
You had hoped you would be able to break it to him nicely.
But as you turned back around to see Tony Stark’s Iron Man suit forming around him and the robot stepping inside the building, you knew you were out of time.
Pulling your hand out of Peter’s, you watched as a look of betrayal washed over his face.
“I can’t Peter!” You shouted, reaching your hands behind your dress.
“What? What do you mean you can-”
“Are you in or are you out, Y/n?” You heard Tony ask.
Glancing between him and your boyfriend, the sound of the robot destroying tables echoing throughout the room, you nodded at Tony.
“What do you mean you’re in-”
Ignoring Peter, you undid the laces on the back of your dress, the fabric falling to your feet.
You were thanking yourself for choosing to wear your shorts underneath your dress right about now.
“Good.” Tony said. “Your suit’s coming in three.., two...”
Stretching your arms out, you felt as the high tech machinery of Tony Stark’s
“spidey suit” for you met your skin. The material stretched across your body, covering your skin until it finally reached around your face, forming your mask.
Turning to look at your boyfriend, you saw his eyes go wide, his mouth practically dropping to the floor.
“What... Y/n-” He stumbled over his words.
Picking your dress up off the floor, you shoved it into your boyfriend’s arms.
“Peter, you need to get out of here!” You shouted over the sound of destruction in the background.
“I- I-” He continued, still glued to his spot. “You’re Spider-Woman?”
“Hey!” You heard Tony shout. “Save the Soap Opera for after we stop this thing!”
Glancing back at Tony and then to Peter, you gently shoved Peter in the direction towards the door.
“We’ll talk about this later!” You shouted, jogging backwards. “Just get out of here!”
Without turning around again to look at Peter’s face, you shot a web towards the android, flinging yourself towards it. When your web met the android’s chest you landed a swift kick to its head before shooting another web, spinning yourself around the android’s body.
“Shit!” You shouted. “This thing’s strong! Can someone help me out?”
As soon as you asked, you watched as a familiar shield came straight for the android’s head, dodging out of the way at the last second, it collided with its face, stopping the animatronic from moving its arms long enough for you to swing yourself around them, webbing them down at its sides.
As Tony continued to blast at its face, trying to get a reading on what this creature was, you shot a web towards its waist, swinging yourself around its body once again.
“Taking out the legs, Y/n?” You heard Cap’s voice ask through the earpiece of your suit.
Huffing and Puffing, you replied. “That’s the plan!”
Pulling the webs that you had spun around the android’s knees tighter, you groaned, feeling the strain on your muscles. Just as you were about to lose your grip, the webs slipping from your fingers, both Steve’s shield and the rays from Tony’s palms hit the back of the android’s knees, knocking it onto the floor. Jumping off of the being at the last second, you landed on your knees.
Pushing yourself onto your feet, you heard the clicking sound of a door within the android’s torso opening. When you looked up, your eyes were met with a man who had a gun raised in his hand... pointed at you.
“Hey!” You called shakily, raising your hands. “We can talk this out.”
“Talk this out?” The man said. “I spent two years working on this-”
Before he could say another word, however, the loud clang of a platter meeting the back of the man's head rang throughout the room. When he fell to the ground, your eye’s met Peter’s who stood behind him, the silver tray in his hand.
“Peter?” You asked, tapping the side of your neck so your mask would retract from your face.
Dropping the tray to the floor, he doubled over, hands on his knees.
“That was...” He said huffing. “... so... cool!”
Rushing over to Peter’s side, stepping over the unconscious man’s body, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s back, listening as he wheezed. Knowing his aunt well enough to know that she wouldn’t let Peter leave the house without his inhaler, you slipped your hands into his pant pocket, pulling out the device and placing it in his hands.
As he inhaled a quick two puffs, his breathing slowly evening out as his airways opened up, you and him looked up to find the attention of the rest of the team on the both of you.
“Well,” Nat said breaking the silence, staring at the unconscious man on the floor in front of you. “I guess love really does conquer all.”
Hearing a chuckle settle over the group surrounding you, the next person to speak was Steve, stepping in front of Peter and reaching his hand out for him to shake.
Glancing between Cap’s hand and face, Peter straightened up, clearing his throat.
“Oh, wow.” Peter said in awe, shaking his hand dramatically. “M- Mr. Captain America, sir, I’m a huge fan.”
Smiling, Steve laid his hand on his shoulder.
“I can say the same about you, kid.” He said. “You gotta stand up for your girl- no matter how strong and capable she may be... I would know.”
Without saying another word, leaving Peter starstruck in his spot beside you, Steve walked away towards Natasha. Tony was the last to come up to the two of you.
“Well, Parker,” He said, tapping his wrist so that his suit retracted from around his body. “I gotta say- I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“T- thank you, Mr. Stark.” Peter said nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
“I guess we can consider making you a paid intern now.” Tony said. “You saved an Avenger and now you get paid minimum wage- sound fair?”
Nodding his head smiling, Peter took Tony’s hand in his, shaking it. “Yes! Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it!”
“I know I won’t.” He said, pulling his hand back and stepping away from him. “And Peter?”
“Be nice to her.” Tony said finally shooting you a wink before heading towards the rest of the group standing over the unconscious man.
Glancing down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers, you looked up at Peter.
“I’m so sorry for not telling you, Pete.” You said, taking a deep breath. “I was just so scared. At first I didn’t even know what was going on with me and then the Avengers found me and my life just got so crazy, but you always treated me like I was just me... I didn’t want that to change and I.... I didn’t want you to leave me once you found out.”
Taking your fidgeting hands in his, he squeezed tightly.
“You thought I would leave you?” Peter asked.
“Y/n, I- I would never leave you.” Peter said seriously. “Yeah, it’s super cool that my girlfriend’s Sider-Woman and you look... like... really hot... in that suit-”
“But I love you.” He told you finally. “Not Spider-Woman- you.”
You weren’t able to help the smile that reached across your face as you listened to your boyfriend. You should have known that Peter would never hate you- especially not for something as cool as having super human abilities- and you almost wanted to laugh at yourself for worrying so much over it. In the end all that mattered was that Peter now knew and he chose to be with you anyway.
Taking your hands out of his, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling away.
“Thanks for being my hero tonight, Peter.” You whispered.
Smiling, gazing at his face you couldn’t help but notice the blush that began to rise to his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.
“Oh that? That was nothing.” He chuckled.
“Hey! Love birds!” Tony shouted from across the room. “The press has gotta be here any minute- better head out unless you want your face on the front page.”
“You’ve got it, Mr. Stark!” Peter called back, waving his hand.
Waving goodbye to the members of your group one last time, you laced your fingers with Peter’s guiding him towards the door.
“Got my dress?” You asked.
Pulling your dress out from behind a nearby vase, he continued his pace handing you the bundled up gown.
“Couldn’t forget that!”
Smiling you slipped behind a wall near the entrance, pulling your gown on. Without asking you felt Peter come up behind you, lacing up the back of your dress as you tapped your wrist, your suit retracting with your touch beneath the dress.
“I don’t know about you,” Peter said, tying the laces. “But I’m-”
“Starving?” You asked, laughing.
Stepping back from tying up your gown, he laughed. “Yeah, want to go grab some post battle dinner?”
Taking his hand in yours, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. “How can I say no to that?”
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Play Me A Song
Paring: Tom Holland x fem!reader
Summary: This is based off the video of Tom playing guitar that he posted on Instagram:) Tom facetimes you to help brighten up your day.
A/n: Not me using fan fiction as a coping mechanism for my stress, yet ONCE AGAIN.
✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧
“Hellooo, gorgeous girl!” Tom cooed as his face popped up onto your phone screen.
You let out a nasally giggle, the side of your face snuggling deeper into the pillow Tom would use when he was over at your house.
Tom tilts his head at the phone, a hint of a smile on his blush colored lips. The action caused his mop of chocolate brown curls to slightly bounce, catching your attention. You longed for the feeling of running your hands through his soft hair. You missed the way it felt between your fingers and how it would make Tom nuzzle closer to you.
“How was your day? You sounded a bit upset on the phone.” He checked in, voice soft and sweet, yet full of concern. His brows furrowed, causing a wrinkle to form between his brows.
You breath in, smelling the hints of him on your pillow. He was miles away, FaceTime allowed you to see and talk to him, though it wasn’t the same as him being beside you. If you were together right now, he would probably envelop you with his protective arms, pull you into his warm chest, and press kisses all over any bit of your exposed skin. His curls would tickle against your neck while he buried his head into the small space between your neck and shoulders—though you wouldn’t mind the tickle because it would remind you that he was there with you.
You sighed, “Today was a rough day. My professors have been piling work on us and I got called into work on my day off. I haven’t even gotten to start that research paper for class—I’m just so burnt out. I’m tired of trying, Tommy.”
Tom pouted, bringing the camera near his face to feel closer to you. He only felt the heat of his phone screen against his face, but he could still feel the light vibrations of your voice through the phone’s speakers. He placed the speaker of his phone slightly atop his chest, so he could feel the rhythm of your words against him. It reminded him of the days you two would cuddle after the both of you had long days at work. You would tell each other about your days and bask in the feeling of being in each other’s arms. He missed the feeling of being close to you.
“I know you have a lot of work to do, but you need to give yourself breaks, darling. And don’t tell me that you don’t need a break, you’re human (y/n), there’s only so much you can do in a day.” He began. Tom knew how you could get when college got overwhelming. Sometimes there were weeks where you would throw yourself into work, with no sleep, minimal food, and too many cups of coffee. He adored the diligence you had for your education, he wished he could’ve had that when he was still in school, but he wanted to make sure that you were taking care of yourself.
“Listen, you got this, I know you do. You’re the most intelligent and hard working woman I have ever met in my life. There’s nothing you can’t do, because I know, one way or another, you’re gonna find a way to do it. You always do. I just don’t want you to forget to take care of yourself. I know your education is important, but so are you.” He finished, a small smile forming on his lips. You hum in response, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself Tommy.”
What you say seems to reassure him, his shoulders visibly loosened up and the smile on his face grows a bit wider. Your own lips turn up on their own, reciprocating his smile.
“How about you, how was your day?” You ask him. Tom sits up and leans against his headboard.
“Well they’re still renovating the house, so Harry and I decided to rent out a place not too far from mum and dad’s. We actually had lunch with them, I got to see Tessa—gosh, I wish you were here right now. Tess was bouncing all over the place and giving everyone kisses, you would’ve loved it. And Paddy! He’s gotten so much taller since I’ve last seen him, and his voice keeps getting deeper, it’s actually embarrassing for me to be beside him because I’m older and I sound like I’m the one going through puberty.” He rambled, one of his hands making gestures and his face making expressions as he spoke. You loved the way he could just go on about a certain topic, especially when it came to his family. As sad as it was to see him leave for the UK, you were also happy because you knew he’d get to see his family.
He continued to talk about his day until his leg bumped into something, causing a hollow thump to emit from the object.
“What was that?” He leaned forward, the sound of his sheets rustling as he moved to grab the object filling your speakers.
“My guitar.” He grunted, holding the instrument up. “Remember, you got this for me for my birthday!” He proudly reminded you. You had gotten him the Ed Sheeran edition Martin Guitar after he had been going on and on about wanting to learn how to properly play the instrument. At the same time, he had a little obsession with Ed Sheeran and his music, so when you saw the guitar in the shop, you thought why not? You knew he would love it.
You fondly chuckled at him, “Yeah I do! You even promised to write me a song one day after you opened it.”
The last part of your sentence caught his attention, “I will write you a song one day, I’m very serious about that promise, love.” He pointed at you.
“Oh, are you?” You tease him.
“Yes, I am. In fact, ever since I’ve gotten back home, I’ve been practicing again and I’m doing much better.” He confidently told you.
“Can you play me a song?” You softly ask him.
“I can play you ‘Grow as we Go’ by Ben Platt. It’s the song I’ve been practicing.” He placed his phone against a pillow, using it as a stand. He placed the guitar in his lap, positioning his fingers on the frets and strings of the guitar.
“Yeah, play anything. I just wanna hear you play.” You mumble, your voice coming out in a muffle against Tom’s pillow.
“Just a warning, it’s probably not that good.” He mentions, shooting you a playful look.
“I don’t care.” You smile. He starts to softly strum the opening of the Ben Platt song and you couldn’t help but smile. He looked away from the camera, trying to focus on the notes and giving you a good look at the side of his face. The light shines part of his face, leaving the features you can see dark in the shadow, though it didn’t stop you from making out his gorgeous brown eyes. His long fingers move fluidly along the strings, creating a sweet melody on the guitar.
He stumbles a bit, making him whisper “Bollocks.” The little hiccup didn’t stop him from playing and so he continued to strum the guitar. You decided to stay quiet, letting him be in the zone. He messes up again, this time saying “bollocks” louder than the first time. You see him slightly shake his head as he regains his focus and places his fingers on the proper strings again.
You fondly watch him as he play, admiring the man you call your boyfriend. His fingers twitch on the string causing him to pause. He sucks his teeth, a bit of a frustrated grin on his face.
“Mmm.” He looks at you before turning away, “Okay.” He plays again, brows furrowed together in concentration as he tries to play the part of the song his keeps messing up on. You couldn’t contain the giggle that came out of you when he cringed at the sound the guitar made when he tried to play past the note. He pauses looking at the ceiling and tries to figure out the next notes.
“Alright, last time.”
“You’ve got it.” You encourage him. Your words give him some confidence and he shoots you a sweet smile. He readjusts the guitar in his lap, this time keeping his eyes on the strings as he plays. He strums the song again, starting off slow then slowly getting faster. Though his pacing was off by a bit, the song still sounded great nonetheless. You were thoroughly impressed.
He stops playing sitting back against the headboard, “I don’t know why I speed up though. I don’t know why I decide to do it so quickly.” He says into the camera.
You laugh, “It still sounds great though, I really enjoyed it.”
Tom tilts his head at you, teasingly squinting at the camera, “Even with the amount of times I kept stopping?”
“Yes, even with the amount of times you kept stopping.” You laugh, adjusting your phone. Tom puts the guitar aside and grabs his phone. He lays back on his bed, his head resting on his pillow and his curls sprawling out on the cushiony white surface. One of his hands rest behind his head as he stares at you.
“I’m gonna keep practicing. So the next time I see your beautiful face I can serenade you with a song and my guitar.” He muses, a lazy grin on his features.
“That sounds like something out of a chick flick.” You snort. He shoots you a playful glare, “Shut up, you love it.”
Tom knew you were a sucker for chick flick gestures. Kissing in the rain, watching the sunset, you name it.
You sigh, scrunching up your nose, “Yeah, I do.”
“But only from you.”
*if there is a line through your blog, tumblr won’t let me tag you:(*
Tom Holland Tags
↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @slutforsebstan
↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @amourtentiaa @alyssathesoftie
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What’s in the Box, Peter?
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy
Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between!
Ever since you started dating Peter during your freshman year of college, you always spent Mother’s Day with him and May.
Of course, you always had the customary FaceTime call with your own mother but with the prices of plane tickets constantly increasing, going home to spend the day with your family just wasn’t possible when all your money went towards rent and school expenses.
So spending the day with Peter and May became tradition, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
May Parker had practically inducted you into the family after only a few months of dating her nephew, and she was the very definition of what you thought motherhood was all about. She was understanding whenever Peter found himself in trouble - whether it be as Peter Parker or his masked superhero alter ego - and she was always willing to lend an ear whenever you or Peter needed to rant about something (even if it was about each other). She worried about Peter - of course she did - but she let him have his space to make his own mistakes and learn from them.
She may not have been Peter’s actual mother, but damn did that woman deserve the best Mother’s Day that you and Peter could muster.
You’d stayed at May’s apartment the night before rather than at yours and Peter’s apartment on the other side of the city to save yourself the commute in the morning, and you were infinitely glad that you’d done so. An extra hour of sleep was definitely worth you and Peter squeezing into the small bed in his old bedroom.
Peter still woke up early, though.
He always did, unable to really sleep in the days leading up to Mother’s Day. He grew restless and quiet, and you didn’t need to ask to know why.
He pressed his lips to your cheek before he left for his visit to his mother’s grave that morning, his jacket tugged on to protect himself from the early morning chill and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He whispered a promise of coffee when he returned, and your appreciation for him doubled in an instant.
By the time he returned, you were busy making pancakes and humming along to the song on the radio while May tittered around the kitchen despite your insistence that she let you take care of making breakfast.
It was her day, after all.
“Good morning,” Peter greeted, pressing a styrofoam cup into your hand. He pressed his lips to your temple before greeting May with a hug and wishing her a happy Mother’s Day. He set a small, wrapped box down on the counter, making you cock your head in curiosity.
“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the box in question with the spatula. You were sure that you had already gotten May a Mother’s Day gift. In fact, you had wrapped her gift yourself the night before. Had you forgotten something?
“Just a Mother’s Day gift,” he replied vaguely, a smile curling his lips. “You’ll see after breakfast.”
Your gaze kept flitting back to that mysterious little box as you finished stacking pancakes onto a large plate, as you filled three glasses of juice and set the table, and as you and Peter caught May up on all of things that you had accomplished over the course of the last semester. You were just barely managing to contain your curiosity enough to actively keep up the conversation and not be rude, and Peter wasn’t helping any.
The way that he seemed extra fidgety and the way that his gaze kept flitting to you more than usual while he talked to May about his plans once you were both finally done with grad school had you wondering if you did something wrong or even worse- if he was planning something that you didn’t know about.
Oh, God. Was he going to propose?
Outwardly, you were smiling brightly and nodding in agreement to what Peter was saying about your plans for the summer, but inwardly, you were panicking.
You loved Peter, you really did, and you’d be happy to marry him. Just not now. You’d had the discussion about marriage over a year ago, knowing that you both wanted it at some point, but you and he had both agreed that marriage was off the table until you were both done with school. You both had at least one year of grad school left, and that was only if you - ever the academic - decided to not continue your education with further certification. A proposal was at least a year away, so long as Peter adhered to the agreement you had made nearly two years ago.
You cleared the table with lightning speed once everyone had finished with their breakfast, wanting nothing more than to know what Peter was hiding. You retrieved May’s gift from Peter’s bedroom and placed it in front of her while Peter held onto the small mystery box, his fingers flexing and unflexing nervously.
Jesus Christ, you were about to implode from impatience and anxiety and-
“This is so cute!” May exclaimed, holding up the small succulent in a pot shaped like a dinosaur. “Did you find this at that shop on 47th?”
“I think so?” Peter looked to you for confirmation, but you only shrugged in response. “Y/N picked out most of the stuff in there. She has a better eye for things than I do.”
“Peter did pick out the wine, though,” you pointed out, nodding towards the fancy bottle of white wine that had cost more than your electrical bill last month. “I will, however, take credit for the plant and the memory foam slippers.”
You shared a small smile with Peter as May looked over her gifts happily. “This is so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned across the table and pulled your both into as tight a hug as she could manage with a table in the way.
“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” Peter told her, and the few happy tears she swiftly brushed away with her thumbs didn’t escape your attention.
“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” you repeated, feeling so incredibly grateful to have May in your life. “You literally deserve the best Mother’s Day for putting up with this guy for most of his life.” You gently nudged Peter in the side with your elbow as you teased, chuckling as he rolled his eyes at you while struggling to fight back an amused smile.
“Whatever,” he scoffed, and it only made you and May laugh harder. “You both love me.”
And suddenly your laughter died as your attention was dragged back to that mysterious little box, now pushed in front of you by Peter. “What’s this?”
“It’s for you,” he answered as if it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.
“I get that, but why?” You observed the small gift nervously. “It’s Mother’s Day, Pete, and I’m very much not a mother. Not unless you count being a plant mother. You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“What?” His face twisted in confusion, brows knit together and lips slightly parted. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”
What the hell? Your brows knit together as you looked from Peter to May, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Know what? I think I would know if I was a mom, Peter.” You let out a breath and started to pull at the wrapping paper. “I mean, thank you for the gift, but this was really unneces-” Your words died on the tip of your tongue as you saw what was tucked neatly into the small box.
You lifted the mug from the box, staring at the words written across the front in pretty pink script.
‘Happy (Expectant) Mother’s Day’
You blinked, too confused to speak.
“I thought you said she knew,” you heard May whisper to Peter.
“I thought she did!” your boyfriend whispered in return. “I thought she was waiting for today to tell me!”
You finally snapped out of your trance, placing the mug down on the table and turning to Peter. “Can you please explain what’s happening?”
After a beat of silence, he answered, “You’re pregnant.”
You snorted in disbelief. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant, Peter.” You took a second to mentally count the days, and your heart began to beat erratically once you realized you had been so busy with final papers and projects to remember when your last period had been. Well, shit.
“You are,” he said confidently. He draped an arm around the back of your chair before taking your hand in his. “Some nights, when it’s really quiet, I can hear the baby’s heartbeat. Scared the hell out of me when I first heard it.” Instinctively, your hands dropped to your stomach, cradling it tenderly. Leave it to your boyfriend to find out you were pregnant before you did thanks to his hyper-senses. “I thought you knew and you were planning to tell me today, you know, because it’s Mother’s Day.” He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously, his gaze flitting to May before he met your eyes again. “I, uh, realize now that you didn’t know.”
“We’re gonna have a baby?” He nodded, lips curling into a smile. “I’m gonna be a mom?” Another nod. “I thought you were gonna propose! I was so nervous!”
“I mean, I can still do that if you want,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate eyes.
“No!” you exclaimed. “I think one big life change is enough for today.”
You shared a soft, sweet kiss with Peter before turning your attention back to the mug on the table. Your fingers curled around it, holding it gently in your hands as you stared at the words again and a smile tugged at your lips.
A gentle hand on yours called your attention away from the mug and to May. The older woman was smiling widely at you and her nephew, i she’d tears glittering in her eyes. “Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N.”
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peter x steve (maybe it goes like this: mating + dating)
Bucky x Clint | Steve x Annie | Tony x Clint | Bucky x Peter | Tony x Annie | Clint x Steve | Bucky x Annie | Peter x Steve
Read on A03
Read the main story on AO3 and Tumblr
Read the Stuckony backstory
Word count: <800K
Steve is so excited to take Peter out for a date, they buy flowers and walk around the city together, and then the sweet Omega starts to sneeze.
Major warnings: D/S Au, ABO Au, sickfic, FLUFF GALORE
Maybe it goes like this:
It’s ten minutes into their walk when Peter sneezes for the first time. It’s adorable and small and cute, and Steve just wants to wrap him up tight, protect him from the world.
But then the sneezes don’t stop.
“Maybe it’s just—” sniffle, “allergies,” Peter uses his sleeve, again, to wipe his nose. Steve wants to give him all the tissues in the world, but it’s a tragedy that he can’t do that. Legally.
“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees, draping an arm around Peter’s shoulders, “we should get back, anyways. I know Bucky and Tony want to cook for us tonight.”
He can tell Peter tries to smile at the mention of his boyfriend, but the expression just falls flat. And sad.
“M’kay,” Peter lets himself be walked back towards their car, and Steve does his best to bundle the small Omega inside, strapping him in and laying a sweater on top. He takes the bouquet of flowers from Peter’s small hands and lays them carefully in the backseat, wanting the prize from their date to survive the trip back.
Twenty minutes later, Steve is cradling the sleeping Omega in his arms, carrying him inside and tucking him into the small nesting couch. He knows Tony and Bucky are out at the store, buying ingredients for their dinner, so he gives them a quick call.
“Hey, Stevie!” his Omega answers, bright and cheerful.
“Hey Buck, I need a favor from you guys, if that’s okay.”
There’s a pause as Bucky relates the information to Tony, “Uh, okay Alpha. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I don’t think. Peter has allergies and we need tissues, and medicine, and gatorade— you know what, just tell Tony that Peter has the sniffles, and let him overreact and buy the right stuff.”
Bucky chuckles, “Alright, Stevie. We’ll be home soon. Keep him warm.”
He hears Tony demanding answers in the background before the line goes dead. Good luck, Buck.
A small whimper comes from his sleepy bundled Omega, and his vision goes laser focused. Protect— his instincts are screaming at him, and he finds himself sprinting around the house, checking locks, and closing windows. He lowers a few of the lights, tearing through the kitchen to grab water and crackers, and even pulls a few blankets out of their den.
To Steve, that sounds like a better idea. A safer idea. He can barely stand to leave the Omega alone for a moment, but he’s forced to— setting his provisions on the side table and throwing dozens of blankets and pillows onto the bed in their den, making sure there’s an even scent of Tony and Bucky and Steve in the mix. Damn, their other packmates need to move in soon.
Once the den is perfectly nested, Steve carefully approaches Peter in the nesting couch, making sure to scent him thoroughly before carrying him— oh so delicately— down the hall and into his makeshift nest.
He whines, upset that the nest isn’t immaculately made by one of his Omegas, but he stops short when Peter’s wide, doe-eyes blink open, drowsy and confused.
“A-alpha?” he keens, face screwing up, “Alpha, wah— wha’s happening?”
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he comforts the Omega, laying him gently in the nest, “How’re you feelin’?”
Peter takes a moment before responding, sniffling and reaching for a tissue, “M’head hurts. Achy. Nah’good, ‘lpha.”
Steve has to stop himself from crying, this Omega is so adorable. His nose is red, eyes watery, and everything inside of Steve wants to roll in the NeedyOmega scent coming off of him in waves.
Instead, he just brushes a few strands of hair off of Peter’s forehead, handing him a glass of water and making sure the tissues and Tylenol are close enough. Steve hopes it’s allergies, but as he feels Peter’s forehead again, he’s convinced that his overheated Omega might have the flu. Dammit.
“What can I get you, sweetheart? Do you want me to leave?”
The noise Peter makes is absolutely heartbreaking, “No, please, I— s’metimes, when m’sick, Clint’ll hold me, ‘lpha. Can you— can you,” tears glisten in his eyes as he struggles to finish his sentence, and Steve just shushes him again, helping the tiny Omega take another drink of water.
“Of course, I’ll hold you, Peter. S’that what you need?”
Peter nods, miserably— extending his arms weakly to Steve in an invitation.
Steve helps him set down the water and climbs into the makeshift nest, spooning behind Peter— pulling him close and scenting him deeply. Peter rumbles— a precious noise that Steve knows is the closest he can manage to a purr in his sick state— and relaxes into the Alpha’s hold.
An hour later, this is how Bucky and Tony find them— wrapped together in the den, surrounded by random snacks and pillows.
“Damn, they look perfect together, don’t they?” Bucky whispers, leaning back into Tony’s chest as they watch the Alpha and Omega sleep.
Tony rests his chin on Bucky’s head, wrapping his arms around the smaller Omega and humming, “They really do, Bucky. Perfect and strong together.”
Bucky closes his eyes, melting into his Beta’s arms,
“Perfect and strong together.”
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In Your Dreams
pairing: peter parker x reader
prompt/synopsis/notes: "you're mad at me because of something i did in your dream but you won't tell me what it was." taking a break from studying! here is a quick drabble because i miss y'all. based on this prompt by @dailyau. written in virtually no time so excuse the mistakes xx
-my masterlist -my inbox
The East Coast is colder at night, and unbearable during the winter. Despite all of that being as of current, you’re fuming where you lay. You can hear him before you see him. The sudden footsteps beating against the metal of your fire escape, then that familiar sea of brunette emerges through the window pane.
Groaning, you unlock the hatch and raise the glass.
“Okay. You haven’t responded to any of my texts all day. Not even when I sent you a picture of that dachshund I found on the street.” Sighs Peter as he slings one leg over the windowsill, tucks his head under the frame. “What’s up. I know somethin’s bothering you.”
You shoot him a grimace over your shoulder, “Nothing.”
“C‘mon. Y/N. I know that face.”
“You heard me.”
You know how ridiculous you would sound if you did tell him. So you bite down on your lip, lock your arms across your chest, and turn away from your boyfriend. You avert your gaze out the window, down to the sidewalk, tracing the number of people that strolled by. So many different people, all those stories. Only in New York.
For a moment, one lovely moment, you’ve calmed down a bit. But then Peter’s voice nettles you back to reality.
His corner lip is quirked lightly; he’s amused.
“Y/N. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but honey, what did I do?” His voice is a quiet tremor. It makes you ache - just for a moment.
Rolling your eyes, you lament, “You killed my succulent.”
“I wasn’t even here last night. Mr. Stark asked me to stay for a bit long- Isn’t that your succulent right there?”
“No. No. I mean last night.” You squinch your eyes shut - mainly to ignore the way your boyfriend’s face contorts to stifle a laugh. “In my dream.”
Peter’s jaw slacks open. He blinks once, twice. “In your what.”
“You killed my succulent in my dream and I am still pissed about it.”
“About something I did .. in your dream.” Drags the boy. His features are puckered a bit in an attempt to hide the smile that teased his lips.
God, you sound so stupid. So, so stupid. But you’re already this far into it, you might as well follow all the way through. You straighten your posture a bit, chest puffed out, cheeks sucked in so the hollows of them accentuate those cheekbones he loved so much.
“Yes.” Firm, confident. Like you should be.
Your brows are scrunched too, you realize. But not until he lets out a chuckle, low, into the air and it causes you to soften a bit.
“Well if it’s any consolation, I’m glad I was in your dream last night.” Cautiously, he places a hand on your shoulder. You let him. Then Peter plants a kiss onto your forehead; his lips are warm, chapped. You let him. “But I don’t think that was why you’re mad at me. I think something else is going on.”
Peter, skin still on skin, sighs. “Honey, I know I haven’t been around lately. I’ve been so busy with this Avengers stuff, it must upset you to some degree. I’d be more surprised if they didn’t. I am sorry I can’t be with you as much as I used to.”
Now he was hitting all the marks. You didn’t have to apologize. Peter just knew; he always did. You all but pout up at him, and he runs a thumb across your cheek. You lean into the touch. Oh, how you missed his touch.
“My sweet girl.” He cooes, rather subliminally. “What if I didn’t go home tonight.”
“Just say the word and I’ll text May that I’m staying over. Would you still be mad at me then?”
Before you can respond, he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. The action causes a giggle to escape your lips, and you scrunch your nose as you pull away, just enough to see him through the pale moonlight. Just enough for you to drag out a “fine” through an exhale.
Brown doe eyes meet yours. Entire galaxies are latent beneath those pupils.
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Warnings: language, plenty of angst
Peter found you on a random rooftop in Queens, your knees drawn up to your chest as you sat in front of one of the many murals of Iron Man that painted the city following the victory over Thanos.
You knew he was there before he even said anything.
Despite the sounds of the city below, you heard his gentle landing behind you, heard his light footsteps as he padded closer and closer, heard his soft sigh as he realized just what you had been doing since you disappeared from the Tower over an hour ago.
He quietly sat beside you, pulling his mask off before finally saying, “Pepper’s worried about you. You kinda just disappeared in the middle of dinner.” Peter was a comforting presence beside you as you struggled to stay afloat in your grief; your personal life preserver in your tide of emotions. “I told her I’d find you and convince you to go home before it gets too late.”
“Home,” you muttered and laughed mirthlessly. “It doesn’t feel like home without him.”
“Y/N,” Peter breathed, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I know that you… I miss him, too.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve lost him,” you whispered, your voice breaking ever so slightly as a sob threatened to escape you. Tears were blurring your vision, but no amount of tears would distort the image of Iron Man - of your father - enough to forget the pain that just seeing the tributes to him caused without fail. “I’ve lost him before, but he’d always come back. He’d always come home.” You furiously swiped at the stray tears, hating how weak it made you feel, how broken it made you feel. Especially in front of Peter. It was useless, and new tears swiftly replaced those that you wiped away. “This is the first time he’s not coming back.”
Peter didn’t respond. What do you say to someone who lost as much as you had? Your sobs filled the silence, and Peter hung his head in defeat.
“Why did it have to be him?” you choked out. You hadn’t expected Peter to answer. Hell, he was probably wondering the same thing. You tore your gaze away from the mural for the first time in nearly forty minutes, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “He knew what those fucking stones could do to him, and he still used them anyway!”
You wanted to scream and rage and cry and...and you wanted to hug your dad and never let him go. You couldn’t even remember the last time you hugged him. Had it been on the battlefield? So much had been happening around you that you couldn’t even remember if you’d hugged your dad.
The tears kept coming, faster and faster. Had you hugged your dad one last time before he died, before he sacrificed his life to put an end to Thanos once and for all? You didn’t know, and it only made your loss hurt even more.
“Why did it have to be him?” you repeated, leaning into Peter and resting your head on his shoulder. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. “Why did he have to leave me? What about Morgan? What about Pepper? What about you? Why did he have to leave us?”
“He saved us,” Peter answered, but it sounded strangled, as if he were feeling just as lost without your dad as you felt. “He beat Thanos.”
You finally looked up at your companion, scanning the features of his face. His eyes were rimmed red, unshed tears shimmering within them, and the dark circles beneath them were even more pronounced from the shadows cast over his face by the lights of the city. “We could have found another way. There had to be another way. There just had to.”
Again, Peter didn’t respond. He didn’t know how.
Instead, he took your face between his hands, gently wiping your tears away with a soft brush of his thumbs. You sat there in silence, just staring at one another and trying to communicate what neither of you could bring yourselves to say.
‘Don’t leave me, too’.
The sound of a notification on your phone broke the moment, and you hesitantly pulled your phone from your pocket to see a barrage of texts from the last hour. Some were from Pepper, a couple from Rhodey, but most were from Peter himself before he’d found you. The most recent text, however, was from Pepper, asking if you’d be home in time to say goodnight to Morgan.
Having read the text over your shoulder, Peter asked, “Want me to swing you home?”
There it was again. Home. How could the place that taunted you with memories of your father ever be a home to you again?
You glanced at the boy beside you, the boy that had been your companion in grief for the last few months. Peter was the only one that could dry your tears and ease the ache in your heart. It was no surprise that it was him and not Sam or Rhodey or even Pepper that came after you once you disappeared in the middle of ‘family dinner’ at the Tower.
“Will you stay with me?” you asked, and after a brief flash of panic in his chocolate eyes, he nodded.
And just like that, with a simple nod of his head, an immense weight lifted from your shoulders. Maybe the Tower would eventually feel like home again so long as Peter was by your side.
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➤ description: peter and y/n share their first kiss together, and it left the two of them breathless.
➤ all taglist: @quxxnxfhxll • @abestfu • @blognotfound •
➤ mcu taglist: @theofficialzivadavid •
➤ peter parker taglist: @amourtentiaa •
➤ requested? yes/no
➤ requests are open!
➤ warning/s: none! if i missed any lmk!
➤ word count: 877
Rain pattered against the sidewalk softly as feet drug their way through it. Streams of water pushed down the side of the road as more rain came down in small heaves. Hand in hand, Peter and Y/N walk together to Y/N’s home, back from the date they’d just gone on. Their faces and clothes were slightly damp, only getting worse as the rain continued. Neither of them seemed to kind mind, however, as they were only enjoying the other’s company. It has been a slightly awkward silence, but they’d gotten used to it as a few minutes went by. They were unsure of what to say after dates like this, so it seemed like an unspoken rule that they walk together quietly.
They’d begun to enjoy the small silence between their date and their home. It’d became and every date thing, and it gave the two of them the time to think and enjoy each other’s company.
Peter had yet to kiss Y/N. Four dates in, and he hadn’t made a single move on them. The thought of it was scary to him. His dates with Y/N had been going well, in his opinion, and he didn’t want to accidentally ruin that by kissing them. Besides, he hadn’t ever kissed someone before. He had no clue how to. May and Ned had picked at him on several occasions, causing his face to go red and becoming flustered. He knew he wanted to kiss Y/N, it was just a matter of when.
He decided that that night was the night.
Y/N and Peter had rounded the corner, Y/N’s house only a few dozen feet away. Peters heartbeat began to quicken at the simple thought of kissing them. He’d glanced over to look at them, only to see they were already glancing at him too. Peter gave them a bashful smile as Y/N began to laugh. Just like always, Peter walked Y/N right to their door to let them in and say goodbye. They’d stopped right there, before they turn to each other.
“I really did have fun tonight,” Y/N whispered with a huge smile on their face.
“I did too,” Peter whispered back. His eyes flickered down to their lips, before looking right back up to their eyes. His face became slightly flushed, his nervousness becoming evident to Y/N. They’d got worried.
“What’s wrong?” They’d questioned, their face dropping into a frown. Peter nodded quickly, his eyes going wide. He began to stutter out slightly, sputtering out a few words, before speaking.
“Nothing! Nothings wrong!” Peter exclaimed. “I just, I have a question.” Y/N gave them a small nod for him to go ahead and ask. They weren’t sure what he was bound to ask, a thousand possibilities swirling through their mind. And when he’d first asked, they were unsure if they’d heard him correctly.
“Can I kiss you?” He mumbled. It was slightly incoherent, and he had said it quite fast. Y/N’s eyebrows stitched together as they slightly leaned forwards.
“Sorry?” Y/N questioned quietly. Peter thought that meant they hadn’t wanted to, and he began to try and explain himself quickly. Before he could do much of that, however, Y/N cut him off.
“I couldn’t hear what you said.” Peter stopped his slight sputtering, looking at them with wide eyes and a worried expression. He calmed down slightly, though he was still a bit frantic. Before he repeated himself, he took a deep breath and gulped.
“Can I kiss you?” He said a bit clearer this time. That Y/N could hear. A small smile formed on Y/N’s lips. They nodded quickly, before humming in response.
Peter was very hesitant to lean in and kiss them. His hands were slightly shaking, and he was unsure how to go about it all. He decided to just go in for it. What bad could happen? Peter brought his hands up to cup their face gently, his eyes flickering down to their lips one last time, before bringing their face closely to his just for him to lean in and fill in the gap.
The both of them had been waiting to kiss for the longest time, and it was obvious in the way they’d kissed each other. It was soft and a bit quick, but neither of them minded. It was only for a second or two, but Y/N didn’t take any time to lean back in to kiss him again, though this time, longer. Both Y/N and Peters hearts were racing rapidly. The second kiss had left the both of the breathless and at loss for words. Peter’s lips had lingered on Y/N’s for a moment or two before he pulled away. The moment they’d locked eyes they’d burst into a fit of laughter.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school then?” Y/N had said more than a question.
“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Peter pressed a quick kiss on their cheek before walking away quickly. He’d glanced back at them quickly, and Y/N gave him a wave as he continued.
That kiss was the only thing they’d thought about the entire rest of the night.
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I Am Tired: (Tumblr)
Peter has the weight of the world on his shoulders, but Tony is always there to help him lift it.
Birthday Surprise: (Tumblr)
Tony gets the best birthday surprise of all.
Better Than Paperwork: (Tumblr)
Tony and Peter are excellent architects and use their skills to build the best blanket fort in existence. (Requested story)
Winter Warmth: (Tumblr)
Penny Parker has always struggled with the cold, but when Tony gives her one of his hoodies, she realises that winter doesn’t have to be a miserable season. (Requested story)
I’ll Think of You: (Tumblr)
Tony’s thoughts over fatherhood.
Return to Earth: (Tumblr)
An alternate version of the scene in Endgame when Tony returns to earth, but Rhodey is the one to comfort him not Steve.
Starks Don’t Cry: (Tumblr)
Tony struggling not to lose it at Peter’s graduation. (Request)
Amazing Like You: (Tumblr)
Peter comes up with better tech than Tony and makes him proud. (Request)
Rough Day: (Tumblr)
Peter helping Tony with emotional intelligence. (Request)
Number One Chaperone: (Tumblr)
Tony chaperones one of Peter’s field trips. (Request)
Simple Digits: (Tumblr)
Peter gets overwhelmed and stressed following a low grade. (Request)
Yeah You’ll Blow Us All Away: (Tumblr)
Peter is a theatre nerd and Tony hasn’t seen Hamilton yet. A perfect combination! (Request)
Spider Hugs from Above: (Tumblr)
Tony gets a surprise visit from his little spiderling in the night. (Bio!Dad AU)
You’ll Always Catch Me: (Tumblr)
Peter has a bad habit of falling. Thankfully Tony is always there to catch him. (Request)
Shielded in Your Arms: (Tumblr)
Peter has a run in with John Walker, the infamous fallen Captain America, and pays the price dearly. (Request)
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: language, the briefest mention of sex, ANGST
Inspired by: 8 Letters - Why Don't We
There are so many things that Peter loves about you.
He loves the way your tongue peaks out between your lips when you’re concentrating too hard on your chemistry homework. He loves the way you doodle in the margins of your notebook when you get bored in history class. He loves the way you draw patterns on the back of his hand absentmindedly during movie nights with Ned and MJ. He loves the way your nose scrunches slightly and your eyes crinkle when you laugh. He loves the way you look with nothing but his baggy t-shirt on.
He could go on and on.
There are so many things that Peter loves about you, but he just can’t bring himself to admit - to himself or to you or to anyone else - that he loves you.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to love you. It’s just that people he’s lost people that he loves.
He loved his parents, and they died. He loved Uncle Ben, and he died. He loved Tony, and he died.
Sure, there are plenty of other people that he loves - like Aunt May, Ned, and little Morgan - that he still has, but he doesn’t want to risk it.
Peter doesn’t want to lose you too, so he doesn’t say it, doesn’t acknowledge just how deeply he feels for you.
And some days he wonders if that’s fair to you, to deprive you of something you so freely have him months ago. The little 'I love you' had tumbled from your lips so easily as you laid tangled in the sheets beneath him, breathless and beautiful and so entirely too good for someone who felt as broken as he did. After that day, you spoke the words often, but you never expected anything from him in return.
You wait so patiently for him, and for that alone Peter wants to love you. You gave so much of yourself to him - your time, your body, your heart - and Peter wants to return the favor, but he just...can’t.
He’s come close to telling you what he knows you want to hear. He’s come so goddamn close, but every time the words are at the tip of his tongue, he swallows them whole and pushes the feelings down, down, down, down until they’ve disappeared from his mind completely. It’s like the minute he finally gives in to just how strongly he feels for you, you’ll slip through his fingers one way or another, and he’s not sure he could survive that.
He was still raw from Tony’s death, after all, and if he lost you now...
He’s pulled from his thoughts by a light flick on his forehead, and he lifts his eyes from his still blank assignment to see you smiling softly at him. “I can literally feel you thinking too hard, Pete,” you tell him, and though there’s a teasing lilt to your voice, he can see just how concerned you are in your eyes. “Wanna talk about it?”
He smiles at you in return, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, it’s nothing,” he lies. You see right through him, just as you always do when he gets like this. He cups your face, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone tenderly. “I’m fine. I promise.”
You don’t push, you don’t prod. You never do. Instead, you give him the time he needs to sort through his thoughts and feelings, knowing that eventually he’ll open up. And when he does, you’ll listen closely, give advice if the situation warrants it, and reassure him that everything’s okay despite the worst of his worries.
It’s one of the many things that he loves about you.
“I love you, you know,” you say instead, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. Your breath fans over his face, smelling of the spearmint gum that you’re always chewing on, and the familiarity of it, of you, helps him relax just enough to forget his fears for a moment. Your fingertips trail down the length of his arm to his hand, entangling your hand in his.
You help ground him, anchoring him to you and to the present, and, again, he thinks you deserve to be loved in a way that he’s not sure he can. You deserve so much more than he can give you.
He wants to tell you as much, but Peter also wants to be selfish and never let you go.
So instead, he says, “I know.”
You don’t deflate when he doesn’t say it back. You don’t frown or rip your hand from his or run from the room in anger and frustration and sadness. Instead, your smile grows wider before you press your lips to his.
Peter feels the guilt creep in, slowly overtaking the fear, and he wants to just say it so badly. He wants to tell you, over and over and over again until you’re sick of hearing it. But he doesn’t. He can’t.
“Y/N, I-” He tries, he really fucking tries, but he chokes on the words. Why is it so hard to just tell you what you deserve to hear? Why is it so hard to say it back? He feels so frustrated and so, so goddamn undeserving of you, and it hurts to think that he could be hurting you by not saying it back.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
You press your lips to his again and squeeze his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, Pete. I know.” Another kiss pressed against his lips. “I know. I promise I know.”
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New blog of imagines
Hey guys! I’m starting this new blog with imagines of marvel universe. Requests are open, feel free to ask ❣️
I’m ok with nsfw
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