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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

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I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

》 PAIRING: peter parker x avenger/secret agent female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: friends to lovers; fake dating-ish; fluff

》 SUMMARY: You're a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.

》 WARNINGS: peter being down bad & horny™️ for r (my fave genre of peter by the looks of it), slight self-deprecating peter, pet names (darling, my love, babe, angel), peter x suit x glasses (a dangerous combo), mediocre spy-ish stuff, canon typical violence (i.e. guns, knives, fighting, ass-kicking), slight jealousy/possessiveness (both parties), slight pettiness from r, closet make-out, little peter got excited (idk why i said it like that lmao it’s just a boner), cuddling w/ boob grab (not sexual lol).

》 WORD COUNT: 21.3k+ (is anyone still surprised)

✘ MOODBOARD

A/N: this idea has been in my drafts since sept or oct 2020? I think? basically i plotted this a decade ago a.k.a this happens after Endgame but before...anything else (NWH who? lol) this is more an alternate universe tho. i honestly have no idea how i feel about this but i did enjoy writing it. a pretty tame, fun lil spy au fic so nothing groundbreaking sksks anyways! i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sun rays that leaked through Peter's bedroom window tickled his eyelids, making them flutter open as he yawned.

A tired smile curled on his lips as he buried his nose into his pillow. It was rather comforting, hearing the faint chirping of birds, the soft rustle of the tree just outside his room, and hell, even the chants in the far-off distance of people training.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, and Peter really liked that.

To top it off, summer had just begun, so no college work to worry about in the meantime. He was finally having a much-needed break from obligation and responsibilities—well, not entirely since the superhero gig didn't really have actual breaks. But he was hopeful that today was a quiet day, at least.

There were plenty of activities that could take up his whole day. He could start with a morning run around the large stretch of land, maybe pack up some breakfast and eat it by the lake, located at the edge of the area. He didn't mean to sound like some guru, but he could really use being one with nature for a little bit. Maybe he could meet his friends for lunch if any of them were free, or maybe he could spend the afternoon relaxing by the compound's private pool—

"Good morning, Peter."

Peter jumped with a squeak, limbs tangling with his sheets, making him fall off the bed with a loud thud. Groaning, he slowly sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of his head to soothe it.

That was certainly one way to get the sleep out of your system.

"Emergency meeting in conference room A-One in ten minutes."

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

It was still a bit odd hearing the A.I. as an alarm early in the morning most of the time. She was certainly very helpful though. From scheduling to reminders, simple google searches to more complicated equation-solving whenever he would need help.

FRIDAY was like the compound's own Alexa but much, much more advanced. Well, she certainly wasn't meant to be used as such but nobody could truly blame him for not taking the perks for granted.

And there were a lot of perks living in the place—the Avenger's compound, to be specific—and despite being here for almost a year now, Peter still hadn't gotten used to its extravagance, much less exhausted all its resources.

It was a drastic change from the little apartment where he and May used to live, and he wasn't talking about the size alone.

She was living with Happy now, Peter visiting over for dinner whenever he could. She was a bit reluctant to let him move out at first. It was expected when they'd practically been living together for a good chunk of his life. But he was grown now, so wanting to dabble into independence shouldn't come off as a surprise.

Sure, it was more him being available and closer to saving the world type of independence, but independence, nonetheless.

Plus, Peter simply wanted to give them as much privacy as he could.

Happy and May were like teenagers in love and the things he heard despite the thick walls thanks to his enhanced abilities…he'd rather not think about it. His super hearing definitely helped in making the decision.

He still hadn't stopped patrolling New York, of course. If it was a quiet day on earth—more so, the universe—he still swung about the city, stopping any petty crime he would come across. But when an Avenger's level threat would arise, Peter was now only a couple of doors down, equipped and ready to join the mission.

It was difficult to juggle: his normal life, attending college, being Spider-Man on top of being an official Avenger.

Nonetheless, Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed the thrill of taking the superhero gig to the next level. Or maybe it was because he was granted the opportunity to live lavishly in the compound. Maybe it was the sheer feeling of accomplishment and pride to be able to save the world.

Or maybe it was because he got to see you every day.

You, who Peter has an insanely huge crush—no, who he really, really liked.

He might even go as far as to say that he was falling for you.

The two of you had moved in at the same time.

He could still vividly remember how he'd just placed the last box on his bed when the building shook. He peered out his window to see what the commotion was about, just in time to catch the Quinjet landing on the well-kept grass. His brows had furrowed in curiosity when the door opened, watching Sam and Bucky come out first, then a third figure trailing right behind them.

Peter didn't really believe in love at first sight, but God did it feel like that when he first saw you.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly love—or maybe it was, who knows—but he really couldn't deny how intrigued he was of you, intimidated even. And that was when you walked into the common room in simple jeans and a pink hoodie.

He swooned the minute you smiled at him when you introduced yourself, his knees wobbling the minute you shook his hand.

It was later on that he found out that you were a former (more like forced) member of HYDRA, abducted at a young age, trained to be one of their elite spies, and brainwashed to do their bidding. Which was why it made so much sense how the one and only Bucky Barnes had a soft spot for you—quite surprising for someone who was known to be a huge grump.

You actually came from Wakanda that day, to erase whatever it was HYDRA planted into your brain. Now, you were a recruit on the team, willing to do good with the skills you now had.

You and Peter were around the same age—part of the young ones, as Bucky pointed out—so it didn't really take long for you to become friends.

Well, a friend he kept ridiculously fawning over, a friend who made his heart race whenever you were nearby, a friend who Peter didn't really want to remain as such.

He was thankful though, being your friend was better than being no one to you at all.

But still, it was difficult to suppress his feelings, especially when you were one of, if not, the sweetest and kindest person Peter had the pleasure of knowing.

Whenever he would stumble into the compound late at night, all badly beaten and bruised, somehow, you'd be the only one awake, helping him up to his own room where you'd then clean his wounds for him.

The first night it happened, you had said FRIDAY alerted you of his presence. You had rushed as fast as you could when the A.I. mentioned he was injured. After that, it simply became a routine for you both.

It was like an unspoken rule around the compound, how you were always the one who'd patch Peter up after missions—unless you weren't present, of course. There were even a handful of occasions where Peter would be the one patching you up, a rare instance where he'd be home from campus while you'd come back from an intense mission that rewarded you with fresh bruises and cuts.

He was convinced you were simply being nice to him, though. You did consider him as your friend and you were kind enough to help with an ailment or two. You were such a caring person overall. He was sure if it was any other person, you'd do the same. So, Peter wasn't exactly special in that regard.

But then you got assigned to help him train every weekend, which only made his overgrowing crush for you, well, grow some more.

It was a new requirement for recruits, learning how to fight without much use of technology.

From the wise words of the new captain: Gadgets and tech should be there as extra sets of tools, not as a replacement for your arms and limbs. If you rely on them too much, they're going to become crutches.

Bucky stared at Sam funnily at that—since his vibranium arm was both a tool and a replacement of his limb—but everyone got what he meant. Being able to take down bad guys with only your bare hands was definitely more helpful than not.

Peter didn't know if someone was secretly spying on him, or had overheard him gushing about you to Harley—or if said friend himself had ratted him out—that led to the two of you being paired together.

Bucky said that you were the best woman for the job to help improve hand-to-hand combat or overall fighting skills. You'd been training since you were young after all, and that was saying something. Peter was probably still learning his additions and subtractions while you had already mastered the art of jiu jitsu. Wanda added that the two of you were already close hence why you got paired together, simply to skip through that awkward phase of introductions.

Peter had a feeling the two were playing matchmaker. But he chose to ignore it.

Either way, it certainly didn't help his predicament.

Being so close to you in that regard, with you wearing those tight leggings and tank tops, grunting and sweating, your bodies getting tangled and just…yeah.

Training with you was enough to make his head—both heads, if being honest, but he'll keep the other one to himself—explode.

You were incredible.

So it didn't take much for him to get distracted by you during your sessions, either.

More often than not, Peter would find himself watching you in awe rather than trying to dodge your punches. You called him out on it a few times, and each time he'd turn pink, the tint on his skin turning darker when you'd order him to do push-ups as a means to discipline. You were strict at times, but he was still so lucky that you were also being patient with him when he couldn't get it quite right the first few times. Although, you being in command and in control only added to his endless list of things he was swooning over you for.

It was admirable the way you would have him so out of breath after a spar and he was the one with superpowers. You were being smart with it, tactical with the when, where and how to hit rather than just throwing a punch for the sake of it. You'd dance around him, gracefully, swiftly, strongly, each move precisely choreographed to outmatch him as if you'd already looked into the future to know what he was going to do next.

Peter was a goner the minute you pinned him down on the floor for the tenth time in that one session.

He didn't know if it was the smug smirk on your face, your knees on either side of his hips, the way you had his hands above his head, or everything all at once. But Peter's blood was definitely boiling with every touch, rushing up to his brain that quickly turned it to mush—or maybe it was rushing down. He really couldn't tell where the pulsing was coming from. If it was his heart or some other organ that gets filled with blood.

By then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop talking about you, head over heels like he was living and breathing for you.

Ned and Harley said it was an obsession at this point but in his defense, you were way out of his league.

And he hadn't even taken into account how you felt about him.

Sometimes, Peter would have an inkling that his feelings were reciprocated. With the way you'd smile at him, the way you'd say sweet things to him, and the lingering touches from time to time, how could he not?

But, what if that was his rose-colored glasses making them seem like something they're not? Was it truly acts of affection and adoration or was it Peter's brain just romanticizing the shit out of simple kind gestures done for a friend?

Then came the thought that you were sweet and kind to everyone. It was just who you are, a ray of sunshine through and through—a ray of sunshine that could kick your ass ten times over but still. He'd rather not give himself too much hope. It was safer to assume that you were only seeing and treating him as a friend and nothing more.

Besides, it was too far-fetched, someone like you feeling something for someone like him.

You'd walk down a hallway with your head held high, while Peter would keep his eyes trained on the tiles. You'd stare your enemy down with no hesitation, your presence commanding, threatening, both words and actions carrying that certain chill that would make anyone second guess crossing you. While Peter would dance around them to avoid proper confrontation, going for silly jokes and sarcastic quips to mask any nervousness he would sometimes feel.

You're one hell of a powerful, strong woman and that's without any enhancements or superpowers involved.

While Peter…well, he's just your dorky, other times clumsy, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

As he said, you were way, way, way out of his league.

So he really couldn't do much but admire you from afar—or up close, but discreetly—until he would grow the extra set of balls needed to actually do something about his feelings for you, especially with the possible outcome of rejection.

He'd like to believe he'd grown quite a bit of confidence after entering college. It was a slow progress but he did manage to break out of his shell. With the number of parties Harry Osborn had managed to drag him into, how could he not? He was quite glad that now, he was able to talk to pretty girls without much stuttering and blushing involved.

But somehow when it was you in front of him, he would suddenly revert to his old high school self again. His cheeks would either be red or pink, barely able to get his words out as he would sometimes stare at you for longer than he should, all awestruck and dazed with admiration.

Peter's point was painfully proven right once again when he saw you down the hallway.

You were wearing black leggings and a black tank top along with your favorite running shoes. It was your usual getup whenever you would train or workout. Yet no matter how many times Peter had seen you in them before, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. It was nothing fancy at all, but God did it look stunning on you.

It was mostly unconscious, and well, his rational brain did sometimes take a backseat when it comes to you. But his eyes drifted over your body, from your exposed shoulders to your collarbones, flitting momentarily on your chest, before they went to your legs, your tight leggings leaving so little to his imagination as they hugged your thighs. He tried to move his gaze back up to look at you more appropriately but simply got stuck on your hips. There was a slight sway in them as you walked—in slow motion, he was sure of it—with such confidence, and the way you held yourself with power and poise was breathtaking.

Shit. Did the AC malfunction? Why is it suddenly so hot—

"Hi, Pete."

Your voice snapped him out of his stupor. But your bright, beautiful eyes and your so-goddamn-pretty smile all while you stood right in front of him was more than enough to have him swooning again.

"H-Hey," he squeaked, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks had gotten. Add the fact that he hadn't been out under the sun much, he was sure you could see how pink it was. That knowledge alone probably made it a shade darker. Then came the fleeting thought that you might've caught him practically eyeing you up—

He quickly cleared his throat, keeping his head down to hide his blush as he opened the door to the conference room.

"After you."

"Thank you," you hummed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm before you moved past him.

It took a lot for his knees not to wobble at the gesture, even more, when he caught a whiff of your shampoo…or was that your perfume? But if you had just gone on a morning run and taken a shower—no, that wasn't your body wash. You didn't look like you'd just got out of the shower, so maybe it was just your scent. God, you always smell so nice.

"Holy—get your shit together man," he grumbled to himself, hastily wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, fixing up his hair before entering the conference room.

It was relatively empty—well, the whole compound was given that the rest of the Avengers weren't at headquarters in the meantime, caught in other obligations whether personal or otherwise. The only other person in the room was Wanda, sitting across from you.

"Pete," you called, tapping the chair beside you before he could even choose a seat to take. There were plenty of vacant ones. Trying to calm his raging heart, he walked over to your side and sat down. But each beat only grew faster when you tilted your head at him with a smile. "Did you go on a run this morning?"

"Oh—uh, no, not yet," he said, trying his best to keep his eyes on yours rather than let them wander, like…down your lips. Shrugging to seem unbothered, he added, "FRIDAY announced the meeting just when I woke up."

"I haven't either," you hummed. So, it was just your scent earlier, the same one that was filling up his nostrils now as you leaned a little closer to him. "Maybe we can go—"

"Another day, another robbery," Sam cut you off as he and Bucky entered the room.

You moved away from him then, leaning back on your seat, attention now on the captain. An unconscious frown made its way onto his lips, because yes, he was slightly—greatly—annoyed at the interruption.

"Only this time, it calls for a national emergency," Bucky added, taking the seat next to Wanda.

"Global, if we don't stop it in time," Sam sighed, connecting a flash drive to one of the USB ports installed on the table.

"Oh no, did they steal the president's nudes?" Peter joked, immediately shrinking in his seat when the two men shot him a look. "Sorry, sorry, bad joke and definitely not the time—I'll shut up."

"That was funny," you whispered, flashing him a smile and Peter's face immediately burned. He wasn't given much time to respond when Sam cleared his throat.

"As much as that would be horrifying, it's something much worse." He pressed a button on the table that made the hologram come to life. There was only one item shown, a rectangular, gold-colored device, probably the size of a credit card but thicker by half an inch. Sam pointed at it and said, "The Gold Codes."

"The Gold Codes?" Peter muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.

"The president's nuclear launch codes," you answered, always willing to help him out on things he wasn't too well versed on.

"Oh." Peter nodded, smiling at you appreciatively before his face fell, eyes widening in realization. "Oh. That's definitely worse than his nudes."

You laughed, and it made Peter's heart do flips.

"And of course, its partner, the nuclear football. But instead of it being a whole briefcase, it's been reduced to this—" Sam flicked through the hologram, a black device coming up beside the gold codes. It looked like a plain external hard drive, roughly the same size as a pocketbook. It wasn't that big so it was definitely easy to carry around and, by the looks of it, easier to steal.

"Technology advancing sometimes isn't the best," Bucky grumbled.

You sat straighter in your seat, forearms resting on the table as you eyed the devices. There was a furrow between your brows, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

You turned to Sam after a moment and asked, "Don't they change the codes every day?"

"Yes, but as our hundred-year-old resident said, technology is advancing so the card automatically syncs up to any changes made," Sam explained.

"That's the stupidest thing ever," Wanda scoffed.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Why did these even get stolen in the first place?"

"The one who was carrying the nuclear football was a double agent," Bucky said.

"Classic," you scoffed. "And have we found where it is?"

Sam nodded at Bucky, the super soldier rummaging around a bag that Peter just noticed he brought with them. He slid across a black envelope with gold detailing, your brows furrowing as you took it in your hand.

"Oh wow, an invitation to a charity gala tonight at The Aces," you gushed, scanning through the glossy, black paper before you turned to look at Peter. You probably saw the confused look he wore because you offered him a sweet smile before explaining, "It's one of the fanciest ballrooms in New York, most of the galas they hold are very exclusive for the rich and the rich-rich, like filthy 'I can end world hunger but I'm an asshole so I won't' rich."

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

"I got you." You bumped his shoulder with a wink, which quickly made him blush.

"But it's a smokescreen," Sam continued. "The real party happens later in the night."

"That's what she said," Bucky interrupted enthusiastically, earning a heavy eye roll from Sam and laughs from you and Wanda. The technically old man looked around the room. "What? Did I say the joke wrong?"

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

"As I was saying, they're holding a black market auction later in the night in the small underground theater a floor beneath the building." Sam continued, swiping up the hologram until it showed a floorplan of a theater along with a couple of photos of high-tech armor, guns, and a whole bunch of things Peter couldn't exactly name. What stood out the most to him, though, was the logos: Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pym Technologies, Sable International, and the likes. "Stolen technology and weapons being sold to anyone who has the money to buy them."

"So, it's like the dark web, but fancier," Wanda quipped.

"Stealing items and then selling them to the highest bidder," Peter hummed. "Sounds like the British."

You snorted, quickly covering your mouth when everyone turned to you with raised brows.

"Sorry," you mumbled, kicking him under the table playfully, probably as a warning to stop making you laugh. Peter only grinned proudly in response. He always felt proud whenever he made you laugh.

"Anyway, the nuclear football is easier to find. It's locked in a room along with the other items they're planning on selling," Sam started, flicking through the hologram to show a floor plan of the whole building. He circled the large room in the middle before tracing a pathway leading up to another, much smaller room. "It's located on the east wing, right side of the main ballroom. It has double doors so you wouldn't miss it, especially with the armed guards."

"And the card?" Peter asked.

"Would be much more difficult to retrieve. It's going to be with the person who orchestrated this whole thing. The problem is—"

"You don't know who it is," you finished.

Sam nodded grimly. "Whoever is the mastermind of this grand scheme has been quite good at maintaining anonymity. The only time they're going to reveal themselves, along with the codes, is during the secret auction, which you can't get into unless you're chosen to be there."

"If you think the gala was exclusive, the auction is on a different scale," Bucky explained.

"We don't know what code or secret handshake will be needed to be able to attend the auction. Our best course of action is to attend the gala, scope the scene, and hopefully, get intel on how to join the auction without much breaking and entering involved," Sam said. "I had Harley tap into the security system of the building and guess what?"

"You found an even bigger problem," you and Peter said at the same time.

Sam nodded. "The whole building is now armed with sensors fit to detect every single Avenger's superpower, any Stark-grade weapons and also, vibranium. Bucky's metal arm, Wanda's magic, my wings, so on and so forth. Neither of us could simply swoop in because the second those silent sensors go off, or any commotion will start, poof goes the codes along with our criminal."

Bucky shifted in his seat. "Even if we discard all of that and try not to use it, going in there as, quote-on-quote civilians won't work either because—"

"Everyone would immediately recognize who we are," Wanda finished.

"Since there are only two people here whose faces aren't known publicly"—Sam looked between the two of you—"Peter and Y/N, you two are going to be the ones to retrieve the codes and the football."

"W-What?" Peter choked, eyes wide as he stared at the captain. "Don't they have my powers in the sensors?"

"They only have it for your web shooters and suit, and as far as I know, both are detachable."

"But that's me, that's how I operate," he stammered. Going out there as himself wasn't part of his skill set. He'd feel too exposed without his suit. Not to mention he was going with you. Which of course wasn't a bad thing at all but it only added this pressure to not mess things up. He couldn't live with himself if he'd fail this mission, fail you—or worse, have you get hurt because he wasn't capable enough. "How am I supposed to be Spider-Man without those?"

"You have to give yourself more credit, Pete," you said, placing your hand over his own, the one resting on his thigh. Peter's eyes followed your touch before he met your gaze again, his blush prominent, heart thumping so loud he was scared you might hear it. "You're more than just a suit. And you need to remember how you've managed to make your synthetic web in the first place. So I'm sure you'll do fine with your brain alone. Even then, you still have other abilities, and you have me."

Peter looked at you fondly, a smile curling on his lips as he turned his hand so your palm was over his, squeezing it to silently say thank you. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing, not until he saw your smile turn slightly shy. It was the quick glimmer in your eyes that made him realize he was absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Seconded." Wanda smiled at the two of you, chuckling when you and Peter jumped slightly away from each other. You pulled your hand away, Peter frowning at the loss of contact. But he shook his head, turning his focus back on the mission.

"Y/N here also said you'd gotten really good at your hand-to-hand combat skills," Bucky said, an all-knowing smile on his face as he glanced between you two. "So, I don't think you'd need your web shooters as much if ever it comes to a fight."

"Which we hope won't result in that," Sam quickly added with a reassuring nod. "The plan is simple: scope and mingle, assess the scene, try and get some information as to how to get into the auction. Once you've done that, sneak into the vault to retrieve the nuclear football. I've already assigned Harley to make a duplicate device to swap with the real one so it won't trigger the alarm.

"Then, you sit at the auction and wait until the codes come up. I'm sure it will be presented by the anonymous seller so by then, we will be able to put a face on the mastermind. Our agents should already be blocking every single exit of the building by that time so all you have to do is to retrieve the code calmly. Try and ease your way into the main stage, charm and persuade, or whichever way works. Any more questions?"

You and Peter looked at each other, before you both turned to Sam, shaking your heads.

"Good. We've already set your fake identities up, google searches running for miles, the last thing we need are photos, together, individually, candid and professional which would only take a few minutes. Your fake names are already on the guest list, your outfits and everything else you need will be waiting for you at the hotel you're getting ready at as part of the whole ruse," he instructed. "You two are the best and only shot we've got in this. Plan your moves wisely and rely on each other. We can't afford to lose those codes."

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

Peter had never been in one this expensive-looking before.

It had its own living room, a minibar, a huge bathroom, a king-size bed, and then a massive window that overlooked New York City. He definitely indulged himself with their complimentary champagne, and given the fact that he couldn't get drunk, he mostly did it for the taste—which was flavored expensive, to those wondering. Hell, even the chocolate they had tasted expensive.

Then again, the two of you were undercover as a rich, engaged couple so it was part of the whole thing. You never know whose eyes and ears were for who in these types of missions.

But still, it was quite the treat and he'd be stupid not to make the most of it—without getting too distracted, of course.

Peter was now all suited up, not in spandex this time. It was a crisp, black, formal suit made with fabric he wouldn't dare guess the cost and a brand he couldn't even begin to pronounce. He had a white dress shirt underneath, paired with a black tie. The one he was currently having a hard time doing as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room.

He groaned in frustration when he once again messed it up. He didn't wear this kind of clothes often, so he really didn't have much of a reason to learn to master the art of…tying?

"Need help?"

Peter turned around, the breath knocked out of him once he saw you come out of the bedroom.

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

It was an off-shoulder, long-sleeved dress, your arms covered in lace as the fabric hugged your figure. The skirt was long as it fanned onto the floor with a really high slit on your right leg to show off the silver heels you were wearing. Your hair and make-up were done to marry the whole style, all while enhancing your natural features rather than covering them. Your red-painted lips though—

"Wow."

"Yeah," you laughed softly, your gaze falling over yourself as your hands smoothed the fabric of your dress. "I don't know who picked it but it's really pretty and it fits really nicely. Perks of having body scans for our suits, I suppose."

"You look beautiful," Peter breathed out, still frozen in his place as he stared at you in absolute awe.

"Thank you," you said, your sweet smile turning into a smirk as you eyed him up and down with a nod. "You clean up nice, too, Parker."

"Oh—uhm, t-thanks." He blushed, shaking his head before gesturing both hands at you. "But you, I—wow, you look, wow."

"Shut up," you laughed, your dress flowing as you moved closer to him. "Here, let me."

Peter wasn't even given much time to recompose himself when you once again took his breath away by simply standing so close to him. Every inhale was just filled with your scent, his heart skipping a few beats as he scanned your face, only a couple inches from his and God did you look even more beautiful up close.

His blush deepened when you reached for his tie, your brows furrowed in that adorable way he'd come to familiarize as you slowly did it for him.

Peter honestly didn't know what to do with his hands, yet there was some sort of pull that he couldn't resist, like an instinct as he gently rested them on your waist. He was distracted by how close you were, but not enough to miss the way your breath hitched at the contact. Testing the waters, he squeezed it gently, biting his cheek to stop his smile from growing when he saw your fingers falter.

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

You shook your head, finishing up his tie with a smile. It was Peter's breath that hitched this time when you smoothed it over his chest, your palms flat against the muscle, touch so sweet, skin so warm. You looked up, your smile faltering when your eyes met his.

He didn't know how long you stared at each other. He also didn't know who moved a little closer first, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Not when he was so close that he could count exactly how many eyelashes you had. And he gladly would've if your voice hadn't snapped him out of the trance that nobody could ever put him under but you.

"We should get going," you whispered, but you still lingered for a few more seconds, more than enough for his brain to run its course, thinking that maybe, his feelings for you weren't as unrequited as he thought.

It was the sound of a beeping alarm that broke you two apart.

"Come on, we can't be late," you said after a breath, flashing him a sweet smile before going to grab your things.

"Wait," he cleared his throat, patting around his pockets before finally retrieving a velvet box. You turned around just as he'd opened it, showing you the ring that resided inside.

Your eyes widened, lips opening and closing as you gawked at the sparkling diamond for a few seconds before you met his gaze. "Peter—"

"Oh shit! It's not what it looks like!" he panicked.

Peter did always find himself daydreaming about you often, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't already pictured something similar to this moment. But even he could recognize how many steps he'd basically jumped over by showing you a diamond ring. And as much as he would love to fast-forward to that part, he'd also like to take you out on a date first. Well, if he'd even get the courage to ask you that, anyway.

"I-uh, you know, us, covering as an engaged couple? So, of course, uhm, you'll need an engagement ring?"

"O-Oh," you fumbled, nodding quickly before you offered him your left hand. "Yeah, of course."

Peter took it in his delicately, fingers running over your knuckles before he carefully slipped the ring on. Squeezing your hand, he reluctantly let go.

"Did you pick this?" you asked, bringing your hand up to your face, fingers wiggling as you admired the ring.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I did—well, Bucky helped."

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your smile growing as you hummed, "Charmer."

"It's the expensive suit." He shrugged, a teasing grin with a blush to match.

You laughed that lovely laugh of yours, adoration and pride swelling in his chest.

"Oh, Harley asked me to give you this," you said after a moment, pulling out a familiar pair of glasses before handing it to him. "He said it's all you need to do your magic."

"Nah, it's just a little tool kit I put together, really, kinda like a small computer so nothing magical about it," he chuckled, waving the glasses before putting them on. "It's carbon-based nanotech, passable through metal detectors. I've managed to look up what security system they had installed in the safe and there's sort of a minicomputer inside so it should be easy to bypass the system. I already have the program in here that would run through all the probable security codes so all I need to do is activate the glasses and it would automatically unscrew everything and connect to a hopefully pre-existing female micro-USB slot with the male counterpart in this old thing and—" he paused, face heating up as you gazed at him with a twinkle in your eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, just—you're amazing," you sighed, smile widening before you nodded. "Let's go?"

Peter ignored that way his whole body tingled at your praise and offered you his arm.

Not like it was a new reaction whenever he was around you, anyway.

"Let's."

•••

"Mr. Reid, the car is already waiting for you."

That was the first sentence Peter heard when you reached the hotel lobby. He looked behind him before looking at the man in a suit, pointing at himself in confusion.

"I'm not—"

"Lucas, honey, come on," you cut him off, slipping your fingers in his. You flashed him a knowing smile, squeezing his hand before you tugged him along as you followed the guy.

Right. Fake identities.

"Woah." Peter gawked at the car in front of him, leaning closer to you as he whispered, "Is that a Rolls Royce? Like, the new one?"

"Sort of. It's the Phantom Extended." You nodded with an amused smile. "The best way to blend in with the rich, don't you think?"

Peter was about to open the door for you but then the butler—at least, he assumed that was who he was—beat him to it. So, he opted on helping you with your dress instead, making sure it didn't get caught on anything as you settled inside.

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

Peter luckily didn't slip on the expensive lambswool floor mat as he got into his seat.

It's pretend. Get a grip.

Once the car started moving, you pressed a button on the center console, the clear glass that separated the front and back immediately turning into an opaque white, completely secluding the two of you from the driver. He looked at you curiously, nervous—okay, and maybe a bit excited—as to why you decided you suddenly needed privacy. Peter had heard a lot of stories about what goes on in the rear cabin of expensive cars, especially with the partition up, so could it be—

"Did you get to read about our fake identities? The one Sam sent?"

Thinking with the wrong head again, aren't we, Parker?

"I, uhm, no, got too preoccupied with the ring and getting dressed," he admitted, looking at you guiltily. The mission had barely started and he was already messing it up. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, it's okay," you reassured with a smile, hand on his thigh, squeezing for good measure. He wasn't able to relish in the warmth of your touch for long as you shifted in your seat, turning around to face him. "I mean, everything is very last minute. I'll just tell you about it.

"Lucas Reid, the young 26-year-old and dashing CEO of Reid Enterprises. You inherited the company at nineteen when your father died of illness," you started.

Peter scrunched his nose. "So, basically, I'm a trust fund baby?"

"Sort of, but you do prove that you did the work," you said. "Company sales skyrocketed when you took the seat."

"What about you?" Peter gestured at your ring, blushing. "Well, apart from being my fiancée."

"I run my own fashion company." You shrugged, winking at him as you added, "Can't be living in my future husband's shadow now, can we?"

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

He shook his head, hands rubbing on his thighs. "Do we have a backstory? Like, as a couple?"

"Not much. Five years ago, we met in Milan during fashion week—"

"Let me guess, sparks flew right off the bat?" he chuckled.

"Love at first sight, obviously," you scoffed, rolling your eyes teasingly.

Not too far off from reality.

"Besides that, it's all the basics from there. Dates, extravagant gifts, and then two months ago, you proposed."

"Right," he started, bumping your knee with his lightly. "So, when's the wedding?"

You laughed, "We're not sure yet. Too busy."

"Of course," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Can't get me out of my office, now can you?"

"I have my ways," you hummed, wiggling your brows at him.

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

"You always do," he chuckled shyly, shaking his head before smiling at you. "Can we go over the plan real quick?"

You smiled. "Of course."

Peter knew what to do, obviously. He'd already gone over the plan probably a hundred times in his head. But he simply wanted to make sure he wasn't missing anything, especially something that could potentially jeopardize the whole mission. He couldn't afford even one single misstep, not when you and your safety could be put at risk—and the millions around the world that would suffer if those weapons got into the wrong hand, of course.

"We're almost there," you said once you've gone over the plans twice, eyes scanning across the windows. "It's just on the next turn."

Peter's heart quickened.

He didn't even notice that his emotions had gone evident on his face. Not until you squeezed his arm.

"You okay?" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course," he said quite unconvincingly. It was when he heard the ticking of the turn signal did his nerves shift to overdrive, his eyes wide as they met yours. "Shit, I don't think I can do this. I mean, I'm not usually out there with my face showing, you know? And I'm so so so not James Bond, I'm the farthest from James Bond I'm like, Lame Bond. I'm not smooth o-or charming or suave enough to be a spy—oh no. No, no, no, what if they find me out right away? I'm going to mess everything up and this is going to go horribly wrong and—"

"Hey!" you interjected, hands cupping his face, squishing his cheeks slightly as you pulled him closer, eyes boring into his with determination. Peter didn't know if it was the proximity that shut him up, or if it was your scent that overpowered his senses—probably both. "You're going to be fine. You've got this."

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

You smiled reassuringly, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, his skin turning redder with each caress. "Be observant, you don't have to talk. With this kind of crowd, trust me, the quiet ones are the most intimidating. If there's anything you feel like it's a bit off, trust your gut, and let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, nuzzling into your palm absentmindedly, finding a sense of comfort from your warm touch.

"And if it gets overwhelming, just follow my lead."

•••

Peter got out of the car, nodding curtly with a tightlipped smile at the driver who opened the door for him.

He decided at the last minute that Lucas Reid was going to be a stoic, passively quiet CEO with a resting 'serious' face that only means business.

Peter straightened up his suit before he offered you his hand, the huge rock on your finger glinting underneath the city lights as your palm met his.

He gently guided you out of the car, helping you fix up your dress before offering you his arm. Your fingers curled around his bicep as you kissed his cheek with a soft thanks. Peter smiled at you warmly, pulling you closer to his side as you made your way inside the building.

Stoic and passive except towards his lovely fiancée, of course.

He might or might not have stumbled upon a few Mobster Spider-Man fanfictions on some website not too long ago. And he might or might not have taken some inspiration from it.

"Please take a basket to put your phones and any other electronic devices in and step under the detectors one by one," one guard instructed.

Adjusting his glasses, he pulled out his newly upgraded phone. It was sponsored by the Avengers obviously since he couldn't exactly rock up with his old, cracked one, with him being rich and everything. He smiled at the lock screen photo—it was of you and him, your lips pressed against his cheek, taken just a couple of hours ago to have photos to make this engaged couple gimmick believable—before he placed it in the basket you were holding up for him.

You smiled reassuringly before you stepped under the metal detector first, Peter following just closely after.

He let out a nervous breath when he saw how heavily armed the guards were. A variation of M17s and a couple of AK-47s were in the hands of fully uniformed men from head to toe. They look like your typical SWAT team, but Peter knew they were more dangerous than that, especially when their morals were as corrupted as he'd presumed.

He was an enhanced superhero, yes, but he sure as hell wasn't bulletproof. And as much as he could probably dodge a few shots, he would rather not take the gamble of finding out exactly how many he could avoid.

That wasn't what he was worried about, though. Because as he felt your fingers slip back into his, he was reminded of how vulnerable and defenseless you were. No superpowers, no bulletproof vests, still an amazing badass who without a doubt could take on two guys in a fight and win, but still a human who could get badly hurt by a simple pull of a trigger.

There were only so many bullets he could jump in front of you for.

"We're going to be fine," you whispered, squeezing his hand as if you could sense his worry. "I got your six."

Peter squeezed back. "And I've got yours."

The two of you stayed close to each other, arms linked as you headed towards the ballroom. But once the huge archway came into sight, you leaned closer to him.

"You go ahead," you whispered in his ear, squeezing his bicep. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Peter nodded.

He knew that some agents had already hidden some of your equipment hours before. Well, he hoped they successfully did, anyway. If not, then, you both might have to compromise.

Peter didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he entered the ballroom but it definitely wasn't as fancy as this.

The ballroom was grandiose in itself with its ornate marble columns and crown moldings, complementing the beautifully impressive murals that covered the ceilings. Even the red curtains that draped along the walls seemed far too luxurious for the mere fact that they were curtains for crying out loud.

Peter had never seen so many chandeliers hanging all in one space, not to mention, ones that seemed to be decked out in gold and crystals…or were those diamonds?

Everything was decorated with a color scheme of cream, black, silver, and gold, from the round tables and accompanying chairs. To contrast were various glass structures illuminated by some kind of light as they glinted and shimmered even from the corner of his eye. There was an open bar in one corner, a long table of finger foods and various desserts, and live music coming from the string quartet on a rotating, circular stage right in the center of a—is that an indoor fountain?

"Wow," you gasped as you appeared beside him, your eyes twinkling underneath the chandeliers. "It's gorgeous."

"Yeah," Peter sighed, eyes trained on the way your face glowed in awe as you admired the space. "Gorgeous."

Your smile brightened as you tilted your head, gaze meeting his. Then, your brows furrowed, stepping in front of him and eyeing the top of his head. "Come here. I need to fix up your hair."

Peter ducked his head without question, hands around your waist as he let you settle the mess of his windswept curls. He found the furrow of your brows absolutely adorable, but the way your tongue slightly poked out of your red lips made him want to just pull you in and kiss you senseless.

You tucked a few short strands behind his ear, gently pressing your thumb into his concha, the earpiece fitting snugly before he heard a faint crackle and then a deep voice.

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

He heard a few snickers in the background followed by Sam scoffing sarcastically.

"My, aren't you two cute."

Peter's brows furrowed, confused eyes meeting yours. "What does he mean?"

"I answered the same way," you giggled, shrugging as you smoothed over his tie and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

"We'll be on the line listening. Be discreet. Only communicate what's necessary."

You and Peter shot each other a look, grins widening into a knowing smirk.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

The line went quiet, presumably Sam muting their end until further notice.

Peter shook his head, chuckling before turning to you. "So, what now?"

"Scope," you said, waving back at a random woman who was making their way over to you both. You turned to him with a smile. "And mingle."

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

He was already a terrible liar when under pressure, stuttering and blubbering until he would end up telling the truth. And that was around people he got along with.

Now how was he supposed to make small talk with the rich all while pretending to be rich himself when he clearly was not?

His best course of action? He didn't talk.

It fit well with the persona he'd created, anyway.

He was mostly following your advice—well, more like literally following you around. He was like your trophy fiancé in some way, and honestly, Peter wasn't opposed to it.

You were taking charge, and all he had to do was scope the scene, nod and smile whenever he was acknowledged while mostly speaking only to you.

From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like such a puppy for his girl, only meeting your eyes, hovering by your side, his attention and touch always on you. A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist as he hung onto every word that slipped past your beautiful red-painted lips. For them, he was simply a man completely enamored by his soon-to-be wife. So it definitely sold this whole fiancé gimmick you two got going on.

Then again, it wasn't like he had to pretend that much, either. It wasn't hard to act all smitten with you because he already was. And, okay, he was playing it up a little. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy acting like you were his and he was yours, even if it was only for a mission.

Other than that, he also quite enjoyed indulging in the food and beverages that were paraded around by the waiters. It tasted so good, so obviously made with high-quality and expensive ingredients, but most importantly free. Could you blame him for taking advantage of it?

He was being an opportunist, he was well aware, which was why he didn't think much about downing the very tasty champagnes they offered, especially when he was free from any consequence that the drink brought—well, one of the consequences.

Because as much as he was immune to the buzz of the alcohol, he couldn't say the same for the effects it brought on his bladder.

It didn't really expand when his abilities got enhanced.

With how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight, it shouldn't have surprised him that the second he left your side, some men in this gala would take his absence as an opportunity to make a move.

He might've been acting like a guard dog, he admits, glaring at anyone who dared to glance at you wrongly. You were "his fiancée" after all, he was simply playing the part of your possessive protective husband-to-be.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But still, when he came back after his little bathroom break, Peter wasn't too keen on what he saw.

You were talking to some dark-haired man wearing a bold, fully gold-colored suit and an even bolder beard. He didn't look old, but he didn't exactly look young, either. Or perhaps his facial hair played a part in that regard. He was—as much as he hated to say it—well-built and good-looking. If Peter was to guess, he was probably in his early 30s.

The interaction looked innocent enough, and Peter wouldn't have found it a big deal if this guy wasn't eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"Amelia Devonché," the man greeted, his French accent thick, his flirtatious tone, even thicker.

So that's your fake name.

"The one and only," you said, smiling as you tilted your head. "Although I don't think we've been introduced."

"Halbert Auclair," he said, bowing as he held out an open palm.

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

"Pleasure to meet you," you hummed, slipping your hand into his.

"Pleasure's all mine. You look quite lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he crooned, bringing the back of your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Peter's jaw clenched, an intensely heated emotion boiling his blood, only relaxing slightly when he heard your fake giggle.

He'd heard your real one enough to differentiate the two.

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

Clouded by his emotions, Peter took long strides towards you, swiftly wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, kissing your temple and then, without thought, near the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes snapped to meet his, a fleeting look of surprise on your features before you quickly masked it with a smile. "This is my fiancé—"

"Lucas Reid, one of the youngest yet richest CEOs here today," Halbert interjected, offering his hand out to shake.

"Hmm," Peter said with a curt nod, his grip a little tighter when he shook it.

"Man with few words, I see," Halbert chuckled dryly, flexing his fingers once they were free from his hold.

Peter bit his cheek to stop a smirk, pushing his glasses up before slipping his hand into his pocket, looking at you with a much more relaxed smile.

"My fiancé isn't great with crowds. Always stuck in his office, he is. The only thing in his mind is the business, and well, me," you gushed, resting your left hand on his chest, tilting your head to flash him a smile. "Am I right, handsome?"

"Very much so, darling," Peter said, unaware of how his voice sounded. He was still running on jealousy that he couldn't help but gently take your hand from his chest, bringing the back of it to his lips and then kissing the diamond ring on your finger. He smiled at you sweetly as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "You still owe me a dance, my love."

You blinked a few times, lips parting before you shook your head with a soft laugh, "Oh, yes! How can I forget."

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

Peter didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence as he gently ushered you towards the dance floor, just in time for the string quartet to play their version of Quando, Quando, Quando.

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

His boiling jealousy was quickly replaced with nervousness and dread as you guided his hands, one on your waist, the other curled around yours.

You were so blatantly staring at him that his nerves could only grow tenfold. It was only a matter of time before you realized just how jealous he acted. Hell, he only just realized it after the emotion had left his system. And despite avoiding your eyes, he could still sense it, how you were trying to figure out why he'd done what he just did.

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" you countered, placing your hand on his shoulder before moving to the music.

He didn't know if he should be thankful or slightly embarrassed that you were the one leading the dance. But then again, there probably would never be a time when Peter wouldn't follow your lead—dancing or otherwise.

He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he could.

It was working, though, bodies synchronously swaying to the sound of strings as if you'd done this plenty of times before. It was either a testament to how good you were at basically everything—a quick learner, a leader, a teacher and hell, a dancer—or just how well you two complemented each other.

Peter believed it was both.

"Yeah," Peter chuckled timidly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your eyes and to make sure he wouldn't step on your foot. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed…" you paused, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Angry."

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

"I'm not," he brushed off, shaking his head. "Got nothing to be angry about."

"Right," you hummed, and it sounded like you didn't believe him at all.

"Did I mess up?" Peter sighed, worried eyes finally meeting your curious ones.

"What? No. You just came off as quiet which isn't a big deal," you reassured, smile widening with amusement. "Where did that South London accent come from, though?"

"Wait." Peter blinked, frowning. "I did an accent?"

"Yeah, you did," you laughed. "Which I didn’t even know you could do."

"I guess I was too nervous to even realize," he admitted, chuckling. "I've been binge-watching The Great British Bake Off lately, maybe I just picked it up."

"So nervousness makes you do accents," you hummed, smiling. "Interesting."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. "Don't tell me you like a British accent too, like, half the world apparently."

"It's cute," you admitted with a shrug. "But I like your accent more."

Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I like the kid from Queens," you said nonchalantly.

Peter almost stepped on your foot. If you weren't a trained spy with quite good reflexes, you might've gone home with a bruised toe.

You shook your head, giggling as you pulled him back to the rhythm of the dance. "You're going to have to keep the charade if you speak to other people, now, though"

"Yeah, didn't really think about that." Peter scrunched up his face, clearing his throat before he looked at you shyly. "I really don't dance."

"Well, you're doing great so far," you hummed, pulling him closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter secured his on your waist then, both of you gliding across the dance floor to the symphony of the strings as you held each other's gaze. It was impressive, really, that this was the first time you both danced together, but danced like two spiders spinning their silks in a synchronized choreography to create a large heart-shaped web.

Then, he felt bold, confident.

He didn't know if it was from that same pull from earlier tonight, his senses being muddled by your overpowering presence, your warm body pressed so close against him, or the sweet lure of the music that added something to the air.

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

But Peter couldn't help but lean even closer, the tips of your noses just a hair's breadth away.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fluttering across your face before meeting your eyes.

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

You shook your head with a giggle, eyes twinkling, "And you said you aren't smooth."

"Like I said," he started, lowering his voice, shrugging with a teasing grin, "It's the expensive suit."

Peter's heart warmed at your sweet laugh, that certain pull growing stronger at the lovely sound. He dipped his head, noses touching before he pressed his forehead against yours. He squeezed your waist when your breath hitched, warm and inviting as it tickled his lips, tempting, oh so close—

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Sam! You've ruined it!" Peter heard Wanda hiss through the earpiece.

"He was finally getting somewhere!" And that was Harley.

Peter's whole face grew hot with embarrassment, squeezing your waist, still keeping you close as he looked away.

He completely forgot about the comms being live and open to everyone back at the compound.

Then again, all of them had been suspiciously quiet until now.

"Well, damn, I'm sorry? But this is an important mission, not a radio drama?"

"You just had to cockblock—"

"I'm surprised you even know what that means, you white fossil—"

You cleared your throat, smiling at Peter shyly. "Any intel?"

"I think that French dude is our bad guy," he answered swiftly, ready to change the subject or else his knees might go out.

"Auclair?" You raised a brow at him with a smirk. "How so?"

Peter might sound like he had a vendetta against the guy who shamelessly flirted with you. But, he did have a few points to back his claim.

"It's kinda weird how quickly he knew about us. Unless he stole the guest list and researched every single one of the names or he's the host. Also, he really made a point in stating how rich I am. You only do that when you want money for the auction. And if that's not proof enough—" Peter pulled a black and silver playing card out of his pocket, the same one Halbert gave to him during the handshake. "Seven of hearts, well, kinda. It's more arrows than it is hearts. All of them are pointing downward no matter which way you turn it. Look—" He turned the card, an almost holographic effect as the arrows remained south. "That's not how normal playing cards are. So I assume it means downstairs to the secret auction. And we've got about an hour max until it's seven. And if that's not obvious enough—" Peter showed you the back, tilting it to the light to expose the words 'Big Toys, Bigger Guns' in the middle in gold lettering.

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

"That's a really good catch, wow," you praised, grinning proudly. "Someone's getting the hang of this already, huh?"

"Watching those James Bond movies finally paid off, I guess," he chuckled, nodding at you. "Plus, I got a good teacher."

You smiled. "Keep a careful eye on him," you instructed, snorting a little when he all but glared when he found the man. You squeezed his slightly tensed shoulders. "Subtlety."

"I don't think I need to be subtle because he keeps eyeing you like he stands a chance as if the rock on your finger isn't big enough. You're my fiancée. So me glaring at some guy with too much beard who looks at you far too long for comfort let alone appropriate isn't out of the ordinary," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Men are pigs I tell you."

"Someone's committed to the bit," you teased, smiling far too bright for it to be innocent. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

Peter quickly snatched a champagne flute from the tray when a waiter walked past, handing it to you with a small curtsy.

"You look parched, my darling."

You rolled your eyes but took the glass anyway, your grin telling him that maybe you like the accent more than you were letting on.

But she likes your accent more.

Peter couldn't stop his heart from melting at the thought.

He was also glad that his distraction worked, his jealousy hopefully forgotten as he guided you toward the bar once the song finished.

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry.

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated.

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you.

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them.

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet.

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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luveline · 2 years

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peter parker when he doesn't get a math problem and his s/o explains it to him and he's very much in love your honour

thank you!

🥺🥺 he

You explain over his shoulder. One arm wrapped around his front, chest pressed into his neck, the other arm extended with a pencil in hand making small, kind corrections. You're quiet as you work through it but quick. You solve the equation and underline it.

"There," you say, so close to his ear he gets chills. You look at him, impossibly bright. "Understand now?"

Peter wonders if he looks as lovesick as he feels.

"You'll have to take me through it again."

You dip your chin and assess his face, tucking the pencil behind your ear before you reach out to stroke his face, smoothing down the ruffled tail of his eyebrow. "I think you're having me on, Parker."

"Why'd you think that?"

You press your lips together. Peter wants to kiss your pout but he's busy keeping up the act. He really hadn't understood the problem by himself, though your explanation – succinct, lilting and intelligent – the first time had worked. He just wants to hear you explain it again.

You smile, finally, and start the equation from the top. With less patience, he thinks, because you know he's a liar. You underline the answer twice.

"And I'm not explaining it again," you say.

He huffs. "But you're so cute when you talk math." He tries to catch a chaste kiss and you evade, rolling your eyes.

"Finish your homework."

"Kiss first?"

"Kiss after."

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker #tasm peter x you #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker reader insert

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deceitfuldevil · 1 year

Note

congrats on 1k omg!!!!! i am going to request number 31 from the fluff list

"C-can you... hold me for a while?" "Of course."

with our most adorable boy peter parker because i MISS HIM SO MUCH!!!!!!! hope u have fun with it!!! x

TY FOR BEING MY FIRST REQUEST KODA ILY

I also miss the soft boy so much, and like most of my stories I simply must base this off personal events. (I woke up to blinding pain in my uterus)

—

Peter was always too good to you, no matter what he was going through (and god knows, he's been through a lot) he was always there for you.

Well... whenever he wasn't on patrol that is.

He was totally attentive all hours of the day besides that. Like about 12 hours ago when you had just walked into your shared tiny apartment after class, and Peter immediately stood up from whatever he was tinkering on to greet you. But it wasn't soon after then that Peter left for the night to go out on patrol.

Now fast forward to 12 hours later at the ripe hour of 8am on your first day off in five days, waking up to a horrendous pain in your abdomen. No need for a second thought, you knew your period had surely started. Not wasting a moment more, you got up from the full size bed you shared with Peter on the rare occasion he was there at night and hobbled to the bathroom. Downing some Naproxen to ease the pain and hobbling right back to bed, wondering, no, hoping Peter would come back home soon.

You spent the next half hour tossing and turning in pain, whining and groaning as you waited for the pain killers to kick in. The pain so intense a few tears slipping from your eyes, and all the rambunctious sounds of the city around you dulled out.

The little demon trying to carve its way out of you took your full attention, and you didn't even notice Peter sliding in through the window.

"Y/n? What's wrong baby?" Peter cooed softly. Limping over to the bed and kneeling down to be eye to eye with you. You wanted to immediately tell him what was wrong, but as soon as you saw his limps and the bruise on his jaw; you felt guilty complaining about the pain caused by your own stupid body.

"It's nothin' Pete..." you tried to brush his concern away, but of course Peter was relentless. Slipping out of his suit in front of you, left in his boxers and sitting on the edge of the bed. You still didn't want to tell him, but you had a feeling he knew. So you just asked, very softly:

"C-can you... hold me for a while?" another tear slipping from you eye as you weakly lifted up the blanket for Peter to join you.

"Of course darling." Peter assured you, slipping underneath the covers with you and welcoming you into his embrace.

Maybe it was the pain meds finally kicking in, but then again you were almost sure it had to be the soft and sweet way Peter was holding you in his arms. The way your bare legs tangles with his, and his slender fingers running through your hair. The pain started to dull out, and you started to fade to sleep.

Nothing made you feel more at home than when you were in his arms.

—

Once again thank you for the request and please send in more requests! I’m also going to see Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania tonight and I sooo excited.

Much Love,

—Skyler

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alloftheimaginesblog · 1 year

Text

merry christmas {p.p}

plot: christmas is peter's least favourite time of the year

character: peter parker (tasm) x reader

warning: angst, sad, death

He could hear the stifled giggles coming from beside him as you crawled into bed beside him. He rolled over, reaching out to tug you close to him, "Merry Christmas, Pete," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, "Santa's been!"

Had Peter had his eyes open they would've been rolling. Christmas was your favourite time of year. You'd decorated the small New York apartment to the high heavens to the point it was almost difficult to walk around without bumping into a five foot inflatable snowman or inflatable candy cane. You got so excited over Christmas, you'd never lost the childlike excitement of the day. Peter thought it was adorable. He didn't really like Christmas, not after losing his parents, but Uncle Ben and Aunt May always tried to make it happy and exciting for him. Some years were better than others but you made him love it, you made him excited for it. You made Christmas.

"Santa, huh?" He asked with a laugh, pulling you closer.

"Yes now let's go! we've got gifts to open!"

Peter let out a frustrated groan as he rolled over, hands rubbing tiredly at his face almost as though trying to rub the memories away. He hated Christmas. He hated it. His plans of sleeping the day away had been rudely interrupted by the memories and the pounding headache that the bottle of whiskey Aunt May had gifted him for his birthday had brought on. He'd tried to drown out the sadness, wash away the memories with Jack Daniels but if anything, it made them worse and the hangover left him vulnerable with his defences down.

He forced himself up and out of bed but this time there were no decorations around the apartment. Instead it was cold and dark and... lifeless.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he said, "I told you that my money's tight just now and I-"

"Pete," you said as you placed a kind hand on his, "It's okay, I promise... besides I didn't get you anything, it was all Santa."

He rolled his eyes, laughing at you, "Yeah, right."

He raised his head to look at his reflection. God, I look awful. Red eyes - red from crying so much, from the hangover or from the pitiful sleep? All three probably. His hair was unkempt and his face unshaven. He looked as bad as he felt. He didn't really give a crap though and instead left the bathroom to grab a hoodie. He pulled on his shoes and left the apartment.

Aunt May knew how hard a day it was for herself without her husband and she knew how hard it was for Peter without his parents, without his uncle and now without you. She'd been calling him all morning but to no avail. Aunt May knew where he would be; she always seemed to know. She knew that he would be trying to push her away, block everyone out and that way it doesn't hurt, right? Wrong. She picked up her umbrella and walked the short distance to the place she knew he visited when he was upset. It didn't take her long to walk, ten minutes and she was standing at the cemetery gates.

When she'd lost Ben, she had a routine like this too. First thing in the morning, she'd head to the cemetery and talk to him, cry to him, sob and wail and beg him to come back. It was torture and therapy all simultaneously.

She walked the familiar path to where she knew Peter would be and she found him, drenched and sobbing, in front of the grave with your name on it. Her heart broke for him. Mid twenties but in this state, knees pressed to his chest and sobbing his heart out, she saw that young boy who lost his parents far too early.

He looked up only when Aunt May shielded his body from the rain. She had to be strong for him today so she smiled, nodded and sat down on the gravel beside him. It was wet and cold but she had to be here for him. She had to do this for him; for you. "Hi, (y/n)," she said loudly over the sound of the rain. Peter began to cry harder, head on Aunt May's shoulder, sobbing into the crook of her neck like he used to do when he'd skin his knees after falling off his skateboard as a kid, "Merry Christmas. I know you always loved the holidays-" her voice cracked, "Ben did too. Always made such a fuss over them, didn't he honey?"

Peter half laughed, half sobbed, "Yeah," he whispered.

It took him a while to peel himself off of Aunt May. When he did, they were soaked to the bone and shivering. He wiped the tears away and cleared his throat, "Merry Christmas, (y/n)."

He looked to Aunt May who smiled back at him with watery eyes. Her expression said so many things to Peter that he understood immediately.

I love you.

I'm so sorry.

You'll be okay.

I miss them all too.

Aunt May squeezed his hand and together, they stood up and began to walk back home.

"(y/n), what the hell? This is so expensive, you shouldn't have!"

You were grinning at him, wide and happy, "But I wanted to see you smile, Pete! Can you blame me for wanting to see that goddamn pretty smile?!"

Peter laughed, "Oh but I thought Santa got me it, not you."

Your eyes widened, "Oh no, I've been found out!" The smile pulled up the corners of your lips as you leaned in to his ear, "I am Santa."

Peter's laughter grew louder and louder as he pulled you in close, "Yeah?" He asked, "Well, thank you, Santa." His lips pressed against yours, warm and soft. He pulled back too soon, pressing his forehead to yours, "Merry Christmas, (y/n)."

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statticscribbles · 2 years

Note

☾ - Spiderman/Peter Parker (tom) x male reader

☾ - sleep headcanon

Peter talks in his sleep; but never about nightmares.

“No! You;re outta.... bread..cheese. milk.... oh not the shopping!” You cover your mouth and try not to laugh; Peter had barely been at your study date for ten minutes before he’d fallen asleep; you’d decided to let him sleep; you knew how hard he was working.

Of course you knew he was Spiderman; he’d asked Dr. Strange; the Dr. Strange, you were still not going to get over that, to keep your memory. You let him sleep, making sure the fabric suit he kept at your place was carefully tucked in your closet; you were happy to let your family tease you about having a crush on spiderman; they had know idea he was usually sitting across from them at dinner.

“NO! Bruce noooooo you said i would have clothes for my.... no it’s a group project!” you laugh again and send the video to Bruce Banner, he responds with a sleeping emoji and then a laughing one.

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Send in a headcanon and a character and I’ll write something

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker reader insert #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine

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ofbluesandyellows · 1 year

Text

Committed to the Cause (Part 2) - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Spider-Man keeps on showing up to check on you, as annoying as he is you can’t help to find his presence comforting.

Word count: 7,623

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury, swearing and alcohol.

Your arm was feeling numb again in that unmoving angle, the cast made your skin itchy but you couldn’t even scratch it, it almost made you go insane at times.

Jerry had finally left and you were doing the best you could to collect the dirt from your large table, leaving everything clean for the next morning.

It was probably past nine when you managed to close the store, a message from your dad, reminding you about the big wedding on Friday, you had to stay overnight on Thursday to make all the arrangements for the tables in time and… well and you were frustrated because without an arm it was double effort.

The commute back home served you enough to awake, you still had stuff to do to prepare for tomorrow’s long day. Feeling instantly more relaxed when you got in your building, the keys fell at your feet when you went to unlock your apartment’s door. It had happened at least once a day since you got that broken arm, you grunted, still a little upset with Spider-Man. Of course you didn’t attack him back when he visited you that night at the hospital because you thought it was a good act of kindness, showed that he cared and that he was sorry for what he did. And you were kinda loopy on meds.

However you were upset, and maybe not with him but for the way you felt so useless most of the time. Working on the bouquets was twice as hard and they weren’t as pretty as when you arranged them with both hands, you couldn’t chop anything and you always poured your coffee over your shirt. This could help you be ambidextrous but it was hard, and you had not the patience for it.

Percy didn’t welcome you when you got in. You huffed. Great, now your dog didn’t want you either. Turning the lights on, your bag plopped on the floor.

“FUCK!” You squealed, back resting on the door.

“I should’ve announced myself, sorry again.”

Spider-Man was sitting in your living room, Percy on his lap, tail whipping his leg. This was the most bizarre thing you’ve seen in your life.

“You can’t be—jeez you want me at the hospital again? Oh god,” you were panting.

You didn’t hear him approach but Percy was soon jumping at your feet demanding attention. As you hovered over to try and catch your breath your line of vision became red spandex feet.

He squatted down to be eye level with you, he waved your way. You felt a bubble bursting in your insides and you wanted to punch his face, poke his big white bug eyes and you also wanted to cry until you fell asleep.

“You’re upset.” He pointed.

“Well of course! I came home after a very long day and my dog doesn’t welcome me and then you almost killed me with your bug-ish presence in my couch, like how did you expect me to react!” You reincorporated, sighing.

“Right, sorry my bad…again.” Spider-man’s hands went up, clearly taking the blame.

Eyes glancing at him, Spider-Man was not paying attention to you, he was looking around, not touching anything, and Percy somehow was following him around. Annoying.

“Anyway, what are you doing here?” you went to the kitchen to grab some water.

Spider-Man popped in. “I just wanted to see how you were doing… it’s been two weeks, and—“ he went silent, it made you turn around.

He was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, eyes staring. A shiver ran down your spine, it was weird to be observed so intently and not be able to read the expression of the other person.

“And?”

“Nothing, just wanted to see how you were, okay? I’m gonna go now. I see you are not in the mood.”

He backed out and you sighed, resting your only good arm on the sink. Why was he so annoying?

“I had a bad day okay, sorry If I’m taking it against you.”

From the living room you heard him grunt or chuckle or whatever.

“I get that,”

“You can go do your hero stuff, it’s fine. Thanks for checking on me.”

You took a long sip of the too cold water, wincing you felt it drop in the depths of your belly.

Not even surprised when you accidentally knocked a cup off the counter while you tried to wash the dirty dishes on the sink.

Your eyes instantly closed, another cup down, this was the sixth one in two weeks, without counting the dishes and glasses.

Spider-Man appeared next to you in a second.

“Um, do you need help? With… anything?”

You stared at him and felt your nose tingle, eyes prickled.

“No, thanks.” With a wet hand you moved away from him, noticing how close he was now. You gathered the broom and the dustpan, ready to clean your mess when a red gloved hand took it from you.

“Y/n, let me help you.”

You sniffed, not letting the emotions win. “I can do it, really.”

“I insist.” and that was the end of it.

Spider-Man cleaned the floor, washed the dishes and even put the kettle on to make tea. The feeling eased a little as you watched him do it, ever so often insisting on doing it yourself all for him to wave his hand at you, dismissing your words.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the New-yorkers.” You said putting a green tea bag—that Spider-Man helped take out from the package—in your chipped cup filled with hot water.

“I am,” he exclaimed, sitting opposite you on the small kitchen table, hands resting on his lap, fingers intertwined. “Am I not?”

You couldn’t see it but you heard the sardonic tone. “but I’m not in danger.”

You hid your tiny smile behind the cup lingering on your lips.

“No, but you could be, shattered glass can be deadly, I know from experience.”

You scoffed. “I’m trying my best not to destroy what’s left of my tableware, thank you.”

Hands up in the air again. “okay, but you could burn yourself with the tea, burn injuries are pretty awful—“

“You know from experience too?” you pulled in your lips trying not to laugh.

“Hey! I know you’re making fun of me but yeah, and it’s not pretty.”

“Fine,”

Percy came running into the kitchen, he laid down right at Spider-Man’s feet, you frowned.

“Percy, you betrayed me!”

Spider-Man laughed. “See, at least someone likes having me around.”

You noticed his laugh for the first time and it was boyish, carefree and contagious. Now that you were thinking about it, it felt less weird to have him there, yes it was weird from all the angles you could look at the situation but it felt somewhat comfortable.

Silence landed heavy in the room, your mind was restless to find words to say, to express how you felt; tired and also grateful for this unexpected visitor, you wanted to tell him something meaningful but you didn’t find the words. He just kept petting the dog and looking at you occasionally.

“You always work late?” he asked suddenly.

“No, but it’s been busy weeks, you know, the holidays and there’s this wedding on friday and they need like twelve bouquets for the tables and another four for the bridesmaids so tomorrow I’ll be in the shop until I finish.” You scrunched your nose. “it’s fun, I usually don’t complain but it’s been hard to try and do things with your less skillful hand.”

“And it’s all my fault,” you glanced up at him through your lashes, he was looking somewhere up your ceiling.

“Yeah but it’s done, you can’t do anything about it.”

His big shiny white eyes focused on you. “I could,”

“It’s enough by having you here making tea for me.”

He sighed.

The sound of sirens went louder as they ran down the street. Spider-Man stood up fast, Percy almost jumped on his spot.

“Uh, do you mind if I—?” he pointed to your window.

“No, go ahead.”

“Cool, thanks. I’ll… see you around, right?”

Weird, your stomach felt weird. “Yeah, why not!”

“Great, okay I’ll go now, job can be a pain in the ass.” He chuckled and with a flick of his wrist he went out flying. You stood on the door frame looking at the open window when something smacked on the class and in a fast movement it closed, you started laughing.

In awe you ran to the window, the air instantly made the web freeze and shine under the moonlight.

•••

Your back was aching with every tiny little move you made. Feeling the muscles and nerves squeeze and stretch made you wince. You were finally done, the clock said four in the morning, body screaming for bed. At least you didn’t have to deliver them too, you had no bike either way. That was Jerry’s job for once.

A light drizzle was falling as you tried to wrap your scarf around your neck as well as you could with your good hand. The shop was closed and the padlocks were in place. You still needed to walk two blocks to get to the subway.

In there were only people that had to work too early or people that were finally off their night shift, the subway was for once silent. Sitting down, your eyes spotted a pair of black converses almost in front of you. Your eyes slowly looked up, a black coat, a red beanie in place and earphones on, eyes closed.

You squinted to give the person a better look, those eyes opened. You tried but the effort was futile, brown eyes found you looking and you simply gave him a lipped smile as a way to hide the embarrassment, your red cheeks gave you away anyway.

The boy put one earphones off and gave you a soft smile. “Hey” he greeted.

“Hi,” damn now you made him uncomfortable and forced him to talk. He leaned on, resting his elbows on his knees as he typed something on his phone, the one he put away only a second later.

There, you were staring again.

“Thanks for the flowers by the way, you shouldn’t have done it but thanks I appreciate it.”

Oh, right, he was the daisies’ guy, that’s why he looked familiar. “It's fine, you can always come back and buy another bouquet from us.”

He laughed. “yeah, you’re right, I should do that.”

You smiled and both traded looks, the whole scene was a bit weird, too tired to process things, too early to be on the subway chatting with a boy.

“Were you working? Because it is a bit late” you pointed, playing with the cuff of your sweater.

“Is it? It could also be pretty early” you chuckled at that. “But yeah it was a late shift… I had a few difficulties with my ride so I had to take the good ol’ sub.” He said but you notice one of his hands wrapped his wrist absentmindedly.

Scratching his cheek he rested his back on the backrest, eyes on his hands. You only nodded. “Yeah same,”

Silence for a bit, you could feel his eyes staring.

“Are you doing okay?”

You furrowed. “What?”

His arm went up to show you what he meant. “Your arm,”

“Oh yes… it’s mostly fine now. Still need to wait a few more weeks to take it off but,” you shrugged, “could’ve been worse”

“Sure, must suck though.” You caught real anguish in the way he said it.

“It does.”

Your face went deeper in your scarf as the boy looked at his fidgety hands.

The urge to speak was down on you, you hated awkward silences.

“What’s your-“

“You live-“

Both said at the same time and grins appeared on your faces. His smile was nice and it made his eyes twinkle.

“Go ahead please,” the boy quickly said with a hand gesture.

“Er, I was gonna ask you what your name was.”

“Oh” he scratched the top of his covered head. “Peter…Parker?”

You chuckled. “You sure?” He cocked a brow. “You don’t seem very convinced.”

He let out a low laugh. “Right no yeah, it is Peter Parker… sorry yeah or just Peter it’s fine!”

“Okay,” you smiled. “I’m y/n”

“Cool… cool name” he avoided your eyes and you smirked. You usually didn’t make boys feel nervous, this was fun.

Peter looked around and abruptly stood up, making you jump slightly.

“This is my stop… I’ll see ya later?”

Your eyebrow quivered for a second, the tone reminded you of someone. “Sure, get home safe”

“You too…” doors slid open just in time and… he took a step out still facing you.

Peter waited for the doors to close to wave at you as the subway moved. You beamed… that was definitely weird.

•••

Peter felt incredibly stupid doing this, but there was something about being near you that caused his brain to make stupid decisions. He’d try to mask them as “apologetic actions”. He had no webs left, he forgot to put his emergency cartridges in and now he was back at his apartment, backpack filled with cartridges. A quick breakfast and a shower later he had his Spider-Man suit on, under his clothes and there he went out into the wild.

He walked around his neighborhood for a few minutes to try and deceive his incoherent ideas, yet there was this urge of seeing you again popping out of nowhere. Peter had been fighting it harder lately, so he opted to go to work. Stark Industries helped him focus on other things, like perfecting his web fluid and explosive web balls. Sometimes he still sent images to the Bugle to keep gossip at bay, now more than ever after his little incident it was to try and calm the waters.

That served him well until he had to head out. Peter’s mind went back to basics.

Grabbing coffee and putting his casual clothes in his bag, he gave in rather easily. Swinging—now full Spider-Man out— around buildings with two cups of coffee and a blueberry muffin in a bag. Three days in the same week, he was heading back to you.

You are going unhinged with these apologies Peter.

Balcony window slid open and there it was, Percy instantly jumping at his feet, begging for a belly scratch. Spider-Man sighed, comfort wrapped him as his nose caught the scent of coconut. Scanning the room he found a new batch of daisy poms and roses.

“Is someone home?” he said loudly, not wanting to scare you again.

“Hello little Percy, here I didn’t forget about you.” Peter put the coffees on the coffee table as he scattered inside his backpack, a little tupper of fruit appeared on the dog’s line of vision. It made the furry thing go crazy when he tasted a piece of red apple.

Peter’s eyes caught movement and you appeared on the door frame of your room, a towel on the top of your head, a big pink sweater on, tired eyes but you were smiling at him.

“Hey” Peter said, waving a hand. He quickly grabbed the tray with the coffees. “I brought you something.”

Your eyes grew big. “Oh, thank you. What are you doing here?”

Good question. “I was in the neighborhood, wanted to—“

“Check on me… again?” you smirked.

“Yeah, is that wrong?”

Your head shook. “I suppose it isn’t, but it still is a bit weird if you ask me.”

“Thought we were friends or something.”

Taking steps closer to him you grabbed your coffee, taking a sip, Peter watched under his mask, expectantly.

“We aren’t friends but we are definitely something.”

He felt the smile spread on his face. “That's what I’m saying.”

It was funny how he made himself at home, sitting on the couch, as he fed Percy tiny pieces of fruit, you disappeared in your room only to appear minutes later with your hair down and damp.

“How are you going to drink your coffee?” you asked him with a funny look.

Peter noticed then what you meant. “Um I don’t know, you can leave the room and let me drink it and then you can come back… my identity needs to stay secret.”

You chuckled. “yeah of course, that would be so inconvenient for me, you are in my house.”

“I know but how else would I drink it then?” Percy barked, as if giving Peter the reason.

He smiled when he saw you roll your eyes at him. “Just put the mask up to your mouth, don’t think I can recognize someone just by looking at their chin.”

“I don’t know, can you?”

You shrugged. “Anyway, you need to stop being so nice with Percy, he’s been a little punk since you fed him, it’s like he has fallen in love with you.”

“Not my fault that I’m so lovable. He has good taste, right Percy.”

The tiny dog only blinked and jumped on the edge of the couch for attention.

“See? He reacts to your voice so easily. Must be some kind of animal connection.”

Peter scoffed. “I am slightly offended, I am not an animal, woman.” The sharp look you threw him made him snort. “Just have spider-like abilities, wait— do you actually think I am like some hybrid creature, half spider half human?” he let out a long loud laugh when you diverted your gaze.

“Don’t laugh, it is kind of common sense, you shoot webs and fly and climb walls,”

Peter couldn’t breath, that was rich, no one had actually asked him if he had more than two eyes or if he had fangs or fur covering his skin.

He saw the cushion flying from the corner of his eyes, it landed with a low thud on his head.

“Stop it!” you squealed. “How could I know you are indeed a normal looking human?”

Peter’s belly hurt from laughing. “I could show you,”

You looked at him with big eyes. “Don’t lie, you wouldn't show me”

He chuckled. “Yeah… maybe one day, who knows.” he laid his back on the couch, the cushion you threw him now on his lap. “Wow that was— you are very funny.”

“Ha ha yeah and you are rude.”

“I am definitely not,”

A sigh escaped him, his body felt light and relaxed. He tried to think of another time where he’d felt this at ease.

Nothing came to mind.

“You didn’t go to work?” Peter said after clearing his throat, he felt a flutter in his stomach.

“I didn’t… Jerry is taking care of the arrangements with one of his brothers, and because I stayed until pretty late…well—”

“Or early,” Peter mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Uh, nothing…”

“Well… they gave me the day off to rest.”

“Cool, so… do you have plans? As in right now?”

This could either go splendidly well or horrendously wrong.

“No… Just want to have some food… why?”

Peter noticed how your mind was trying to figure out where his question was going.

“I could go get us pizza? Or sushi? Maybe thai?” he shrugged. He was playing it cool, he was surprised at how casual his voice sounded, the complete opposite happened inside his body where everything was on alert, ready to be rejected.

“um…” your eyes landed on his face, Peter felt his whole head grow hot, what was his purpose with this? He wondered. “Sure, yeah that’d be nice… but are you gonna eat? Don’t want to be eating pizza while you just watch.”

Your face was a combination of emotions; a smile, flushed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows, Peter felt the urge to pinch your cheeks.

“Of course! I’m not inviting you to eat something just to watch you, not my kind of kink.”

This made you snort, he smiled.

“Okay then, just no pepperoni.”

“Pizza it is, be right back.” He stood up in a swift jump.

“Wait, let me give you money.” You grabbed his wrist.

“Nope, my treat.”

Peter didn’t let you say more, the next thing he knew he was smiling, swinging through buildings and screaming feeling alive and jolly. For once he felt happy back in his world. Not an ounce of regret or the thought of his other Peter variants in mind.

•••

Eating pizza with Spider-Man was not on your bingo card, not in your wildest dreams thought you’d have him on your couch half mask up, eating pizza and drinking beer while you two watched New Girl.

“I’m gonna admit that this show is pretty funny, I was not expecting it.” Spider-Man said, munching on his food. You saw his little smile as he reacted to something Schmidt had said.

More than watching the show—the one you’ve watched and re-watched several times—you were mainly focused on the arachnid hero at your side. He seemed to be so immersed in the whole thing that he didn’t notice your staring.

You found yourself smiling when he did so, or when he absentmindedly scratched his cheek or the top of his head. And you wondered how weird it was for him to be living a secret life as well as a heroic one. You wanted to know who was under the mask as well, because just these little snippets of normalcy between you and Spider-Man—even though he was a bit annoying—felt so normal. You liked his personality, he was a good company after all. The man under the mask as a matter of fact had to be just as nice.

“Who is your favorite character?” He asked, fully looking at you, mask back down. He caught you looking.

Trying to act unsurprised, you took a bite of your now cold slice of pizza. “All of them, have a soft spot for Nick but they’re all amazing, that’s what makes the show so good.”

“Hmm… yeah well I don’t know, after two episodes all I can say is that the girl with the bangs,”

“Cece,”

“Yeah, Cece, is going to end up with the guy with the tip jar.”

“Schmidt.”

“That’s what I said.”

It made you smirk that even now you could sense when he was smiling under his mask, it was in the way he spoke that told you he was happy.

“I’m not saying anything, you need to watch it,”

“Fair enough.” He hugged a cushion against his chest and threw you a look. “Put the next one, come on woman.”

“Wow, see! Rude.”

“Sorry,” he squeezed your arm. “I just want to see if I’m right.”

That’s basically how it started, New Girl was a bonding method you found really rewarding, lots of laughs and nods. Spider-Man left only twenty minutes later when his phone started buzzing, with an apologetic gesture he exited the apartment through the window.

The next time you saw him was a week later, he carried a bag full of Chinese food, and you kept on watching season 4 where finally Nick and Jess get together.

Percy got a new toy, which ironically was a tiny Spider-Man stuffed toy, it made you laugh and Spider-Man felt quite proud of the joke. These late date nights became not a daily thing but a regular occasion, never on the same day but most of them around ten at night.

Five weeks later you were trying to come up with a way to wrap a fairly big wedding bouquet with a baby pink ribbon with just one arm. It was a hard task, Jerry left for lunch and to deliver a few stuff, you were not expecting him to come back until probably two more hours. That left you with no more option than to wait in the store.

Until you heard the bell chime, announcing a new customer. Leaving the flowers slowly on the table you sighed in defeat when the bouquet lost form without your holding them.

“Peter Parker!” you said gleefully stepping into the actual shop.

His smile and dreamy eyes caught you off guard. “Hey y/n”

And there’s something about hearing your name coming out of a cute guy that made you feel special, and stupid.

“The usual I suppose.”

“Yes,” he nodded and you disappeared into your station again. “How you’ve been?”

“All right, I'm counting the days until I get this damn thing off my arm, but besides that everything’s been good.”

The flowers you picked for Peter were always the most beautiful, the ones with the brightest colors with the freshest steams and even when you were giving him a variation of daisies, you didn’t dare to charge him full price.

“How about you, how’s work?”

His visits had been twice a week, and you liked having little chats with him, he told you the other day that he was working on a secret project at Stark industries and that he couldn’t tell you more because it was indeed a secret.

“Peachy, remember the project?”

“Yes,”

“It’s going pretty great, actually we could have a few tryouts within the next few days, so I’m pretty stoked about it.”

“That’s cool, even though I don’t know what’s that about but I trust you. You’re the future of science mister Parker.” you said with a chuckle as you appeared on the counter.

A slight cherry color was staining his cheeks, adorable. “I am not, I just like to—you know… help.”

“Uh huh, very heroic of you.”

He frowned. “Not heroic enough, it’s nice of you to say, though.”

“Could you help me wrap them, you know the drill already.”

“Of course,”

He knew pretty well, you’ve been asking him for help wrapping the bouquets whenever he showed up when Jerry wasn’t around, which was pretty often, as if he knew when Jerry took his break.

Peter held the paper in place as you placed the flowers, then he simply followed your instructions into twisting and folding the right corners until he had a pretty perfectly wrapped bouquet of rainbow like daisies.

“I don’t want to abuse your kindness but can you help me with another bouquet? I’ve been trying to wrap it but I just can’t find a way”

Peter blinked, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah no problem, always nice to be of help.”

You let Peter in, your station was a mess but it was all part of it, he looked around as you told him to hold the flowers up for you to see and rearrange them properly. White gardenias, and white roses filling the air with their sweet aroma, you were very concentrated in doing your job, instructing Peter to hold the tip of a cream color ribbon with his thumb.

“Like this?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Okay so now I am going to surround the stems with the ribbon and you need to hold it on every round, okay?”

Your eyes went up to find his already on you, the way he was gazing at your eyes and your nose and your lips made you suddenly very shy.

“Peter?” Voice came out as a mumble.

Quickly he shook his head and nodded. “Yeah I got it!” voice going slightly high pitched.

You did your best to not touch him much, but it was inevitable to not brush your hand against his skin or his covered chest, his sweater was soft and now the scent of flowers mixed with his aftershave.

It was… nice, something within you churned. You gulped.

“Done,” a sigh escaped you, this had been a bit harder than you thought…. Not talking exclusively about the bouquet.

Your eyes found his and both of you smiled, it wasn’t uncomfortable yet there was a slight shift in the atmosphere.

With a blink Peter instantly turned around and walked away from you. “How much I owe you?”

“Same as always,”

Peter handed you the money, he crusty and you scrunched your nose, he caught you doing so

“That was… I didn’t mean to curtsy,” he laughed, ears turning bright red. “I’ll just go. Er thank you!”

With a chuckle you returned an exaggerated curtsy. “Bye, sir Peter.”

“You are so annoying, you know that?” He said pushing the door open, he waved at you through the window display.

•••

It was past eleven, and Spider-man didn’t show up again, it’s been four days now, you were worried, only slightly, you should have known better than worry about an actual hero, he must’ve been doing pretty important stuff, he didn’t owe you and yes you were friends… or something but it was odd to not have him around, not even a note or a quick stopping by as he had done before.

Percy had been looking through the window every night to see if his favorite human appeared, yes Spidey had taken your place which was unfair considering you fed and played with the doggy all the time.

Huffing you snuggled deeper into your mattress and duvet, your feet were cold, this impeded you to reconcile sleep, but eventually your whole body fell into slumber. Thoughts and the images of a weird dream started to take shape and form an incoherent plot. Yet the barks of Percy made you jump out of your skin in an instant.

Sitting in bed with your heart palpitating so fast you felt it coming out of your chest any second. Holding an empty vase near your bedside table you walked out of your room, Percy instantly coming to meet you.

“What is it?” you asked him in a whisper, to which Percy only ran away straight to the living room.

Shuffling and grunts echoed in the apartment. You gulped, the grip on the vase tighter. Mind came up with a plan in seconds, that was adrenaline acting up. If you ran, turning the lights on and then throwing the vase to whoever was in there you could gain enough time to hold Percy and run away.

Yeah, that was as good as it could get, shaking your head you did it, no overthinking just running, switch on and you almost tripped on your feet.

“HOLY FUCK!” you shouted, the vase fell on the couch, dammit you were about to ruin a pretty great vase for this.

“Sorry, I am really sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention, just Percy here, little snitch.”

Spider-Man was holding his chest, as he was sprawled on the floor, the window slightly open cold winter air swirling in.

“What… are you okay?” you saw the splash of darker red on his suit.

Oh no.

“I… yeah. Sure, Just need a sec to catch my breath, promise you if I had somewhere else to go I wouldn’t have bothered you but… oh” His hand went up , as if he was examining it. “Shit that’s lots of blood.”

Instinctively, you approached the wounded man in your living room. Kneeling by his side the blood was creating a small pool of crimson liquid, the metallic smell made you want to gag.

“Jesus, er I, okay I’m— I need to see what you have there, can you move? Are you dizzy?”

“Yes, I am very dizzy and… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to move.”

“Of course, okay but I still need to see your wound, let me just get my scissors, there’s no way I’m letting you die in my living room Spider-Man.”

At this time you weren’t sure where the scissors were, but how could you, you were panicking, you had zero to no experience in wounds.

A knife and scissors and towels, water, aspirins, you grabbed everything you found remotely useful and let it fall at Spider-Man’s feet. He chuckled and grunted all together.

“Okay, let me see.” You went to grab his suit but he caught your hand mid-way, warm and gooey with his own blood.

“No, I can take it off, this suit” grunt. “Believe it or not it costs a fortune, well no, it doesn’t but it cost me a lot of time to make.”

You were looking at him unblinkingly, how on earth was he able to joke. “Whatever, just let me see!!”

“Jeez y/n chill I won’t die… at least I hope not.”

You grimaced just by looking at him struggling with his suit, slowly but surely you waited and helped as much as a girl with one functional arm could.

His chest was like a work of art, splashes of red angry hits, purple fresh bruises as well as yellow-y spots where starting to disappear to leave space for the new ones. Near his ribs there were three wounds, you couldn’t tell if those were deep or not but blood was seeping out of them, your whole body tensed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, those will heal in a couple of hours.” Spider-Man affirmed, mumbling. Percy was licking his naked arm, you heard the man let out a low laugh. “Thank you Percy I knew you’d understand.”

“Who did this to you?” you gasped, feeling your eyes prickle.

“Bad men, they usually use guns so I was not ready to be attacked by…um sharp… objects…”

“Those are knife wounds?”

“Not exactly but you could say so, yeah.” Spider-Man winced.

Ok, that was your cue, you needed to figure out a way to fix him. “I don’t know what I’m doing but we got this Spider-Man,”

Your only hand available was shaking heaps as you pressed the towel against his wounds. “Add pressure and I’ll start cleaning the rest.”

You demanded and Spidey obeyed.

His mask was still on so you had no clue if he was looking at you or just resting his eyes. Either way you cleaned his torso as best as you could. Unfortunately the towel started to stain red, and you had to run to get another one, no time to wash or rinse. Percy followed you like his presence was doing something to help you.

When you came back only one of his wounds was dripping, the other two were bright red.

“See? We are getting there.” Spider-Man said in a chuckle probably because of your expression, total awe.

“Yeah, I see now… but still I’m gonna wrap you in these.” You put up some tights and baby pink towels.

“Uh?”

“I know these are not bandages but it’s what I have, okay, so I’m putting the towel there and then wrapping it in place with the tights.”

Spider-Man had no other option so he sighed, giving you green light.

The wrapping ended with various grunts and low cursing coming mostly from him but you also collaborated with a few big heavy words as it wasn’t an easy job to do but it got completed, your forehead had pearls of sweat at the end of it.

Sitting beside Spider-Man you felt the warmth coming from his body, unexpectedly his thumb came to caress the side of your forehead, right up your temple, you looked at him moving your head away just a little.

“You have blood there.” He simply mumbled but made no effort to move his hand. You kind of didn’t want him to.

“It's fine,” hand went flying up your face, clumsily touching Spider-Man’s on the way, it was probably the adrenaline still running up your veins that caused the almost electroshocking reaction inside you.

Spider-Man’s hand fell on his lap and Percy quickly ran to nuzzle against his fingers.

“All right then.“ He said as he scratched the dog’s ear. “You know how to be adorable and make me feel better.”

“Hey, I did all the hard work” of course you were going to complain.

“And I’ll forever be grateful for it, but Percy is adorable, look at that face.”

You instantly notice he felt better, that was a big relief.

“You are adorable too. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

You scoffed. “No, but I am indeed very adorable and also very intimidating.”

Now it was his turn to scoff. “Absolutely not, you are small and cute. Not one hair of intimidation in your body, y/n come on let’s be for real now.”

The weariness made you laugh at that. “You are such a pain in the ass Spider-Man, I fucking patched you up and you are making fun of me, that’s not the way to go man,”

You tried to ignore the fact that he had called you cute, that had caused your belly to do a flip.

He went silent, you instantly went to look at him, he couldn’t die now, right?

“You okay? And be honest, please.” Jokes aside, you were still worried.

He nodded eagerly. “I do feel better, a little bad that I ruined your towels and the floor will need a good scrub later.”

“Don't worry about it, I can charge people to come see the spot and become a billionaire.”

Your smirk made him chuckle. “Funny, but I’d ask for my share.”

“No way, it’s my apartment and you came for help, that’s how you pay me for ruining the floor.”

“Oh so you do care about me ruining the floor with my blood.”

You gasped, offended. “You are truly the worst, just for the record I don’t care, the idea seems like a good way of making easy money.”

“At my expenses.”

“Yeah, but you owe me.” Your broken arm went up to remind him, he shook his head.

“I thought I covered that up already… I see how things are now.”

You laughed, and he mirrored you, only that his laugh was followed by winces.

“Let me get you some water… Are you hungry?” you got up, noticing now that your pajama had dark red spots spattered.

“Your look is very Carrie.”

“Thanks to you,”

“Always happy to provide.”

Again, a pain in the ass this masked boy was. “Want a sandwich?”

“That’d be great actually, thanks.”

As you prepared sandwiches and tea, you had the unsettling feeling that Spider-Man would either disappear or die right after you dared to divert your gaze for even a millisecond, him lying there in the still fresh pond of blood. The gears kept on running inside your brain, making you peek through the door every couple of minutes to see him and calm your unsettled self. He was still in place, Percy with now pinkish fur sprawled on Spider-Man’s lap where he was brushing the tiny dog’s head.

Warm and toasty bread was all there was to smell in the apartment. You put the plates on the coffee table, one at a time, then the tea and then you went to gather bed sheets to put on the couch.

“Sit up here, you will be more comfortable.” You didn’t ask, your tone pretty much demanding,

Spider-Man didn’t argue with you but he complained about the obviously painful wounds. You were wary about every move, every deep breath and sigh he made, you observed him, your sandwich rested cold on the plate, opposite to Spider-Man he was devouring the simple meal you made for him, you offered him your own food and he looked at you, and even though he had that stupid red mask on, you could feel the intensity of his eyes, those white big bug eyes that made you wonder what their real color was.

Spider-Man had thin lips, not too thin but they weren’t plush, they were pink even with all the blood lose, that gave you some relief; his jaw was strong and sharp, a little stubble was resurfacing form the skin and he had a kind smile, you liked how he smiled at you.

“Stop looking at me like that, I’m not going to die… at most I’m gonna finish all the food you have in the apartment.” He said munching on the last bit of sandwich.

Warmth crept through your neck. “Sorry, I’m a bit worried…”

“I—yeah, right it was all my fault sorry. You would be sound asleep if it wasn’t for me.”

He moved, almost ready to leave the place but his body refused, he grunted and plopped back on the couch.

“Shit,” he said, mask down again.

“You can say as long as you need.” You went on to collect the dirty dishes and somehow you expected the hero to protest or try to help you but he simply sighed.

You didn’t make the effort to wash dishes, instead you did what it was a necessity now. More towels and the mop, a bucket with a bunch of cleaning products got translated to the crime-scene-looking-spot in your living room.

“Whoa! Hey, I am definitely not letting you clean that.” Spider-Man quickly got up and after a moment of dizziness he kneeled beside you. “Give me that.”

“Hell no, you just sit there, you really need to rest. I have this under control, and it’s my apartment so you just stay put, watch tv, or even better get some sleep and stop bothering me.”

“But it’s unfair, I—I caused this.”

“Yeah but you can’t clean it, you can pay for it later.”

He got up and sat on the couch. “Just because I’m really not feeling well I’ll let it pass… but it hurts me to see that you’re getting rid of that art work.”

“Uh huh, it was a great gift to humankind but I don’t think people would come see it either way, no one would believe me it’s your blood.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile. The words caused the reaction you wanted when you heard the boy gasp.

“You only said people would pay to see it to make me feel better?” eyes found his body, he had a hand on his chest, clearly taking the offense to a dramatic level. “So low of you y/n, I trusted you.”

“What can I say Spidey,”

You heard him chuckle after that and your chest felt funny.

“Has anyone ever told you you are too nice? Like seriously, any other person would’ve kicked me out or would’ve called the police but you… you are insane, woman.”

The laugh you let out made him react the same way. “I just accepted you because you brought coffee and bought me pizza, and because you like New Girl just as much as me now.”

“How convenient.”

“That’s just the truth.” at least you tried to convince yourself of it.

“Well… thank you.”

“No need, you’d do the same for me.” The spot of crimson liquid was now gone, a light stain remaining. Your brows knitted. “You wouldn’t let me die in your living room, right?”

“Of course not, I’d leave you in an alley.”

“Ha ha funny.”

Both of you kept silent but only for a brief moment because Spider-Man made sure you heard him.

Web fluid took the mop from your hand, making you look his way.

“Y/n I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe… look what I’ve done now; condemning you to a friendship after I broke your arm and you saved my life, I think we are stuck together.”

The way your smile only grew into a beam after those words, being attached to Spider-Man didn’t sound bad at all.

“I like that promise,”

You weren’t sure how but you knew that the boy hidden inside that suit was beaming at you the same way you did.

The floor got mopped, the air smelt fresh and Spider-Man was lightly snoring on your couch as Percy finally laid on his fluffy bed, after seeing his pink painted paws you made a mental note to shower him.

Carefully you sat back on the free space on the couch, trying your best to not wake the boy there. Eyes scanned every inch of his body several times, making sure his chest was moving and his body wasn’t tense. Your mind was running wild thinking of having him there at all times, to have someone to talk to, someone who could help you cook or take Percy for a walk. And it was creepy to think about such things when you had no idea who was the boy sleeping on your couch, yes it was Spider-Man but who was he really.

The night swallowed your thoughts and wonders, making your eyes flutter, each blink slower, until you couldn’t resist it anymore, you were sure he was fine now so no worries were keeping you from resting. Still somewhere in your subconscious you were on alert, and the moment you felt the shifting on the couch you woke. Spider-Man was ready to go, you knew, it was all in the way he was standing.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered as if someone would hear him.

“Stay,” you mumbled, feeling the slumber heavy in your eyelids and body.

“Can’t… I have to go now, but I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

You barely heard him whisper this to you, but you nodded your head. A breeze made you snuggle between the cushions, noticing a blanket over your curled body, soon you were dreaming of being able to drive your bike, to wash dishes with both hands, to finally shower properly.

Part 1 - Part 3

#tasm fanfiction #tasm fic #tasm!peter fluff #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x you #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker reader insert #reader insert #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #spiderman x y/n #spiderman fanfiction #post no way home #mutual pining #protective peter parker

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mcuamerica · 2 years

Text

Like Vines (One)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: language (maybe), mention of violence, awkward Peter

Word Count: 1587

Requested by anon: “Peter parker is in love with nerdy and bookish type girl, reader who is tend to be in the library during break. but she is also secretly vigilante who ivy (powers of plants)”

A/N: I'm going to put out a part 2 to this, but after that I think it'll be done. It was getting pretty long for me, so I wanted to split it. Part 2 should be out by Friday, October 7.

The bell rang through your ears as you finished the last of your notes. Pushing your hair out of your face, you leaned down and grabbed your bag to stuff all your books and pens back in the bag. On your way down, you ended up knocking off one of your pens without noticing.

“You dropped this,” you heard a voice say. You glanced up, meeting the brown eyes of the boy who sat next to you in nearly every class. You didn’t like talking to many people, so you hadn’t introduced yourself yet.

“Oh… uh… thanks.” You muttered, giving a tight smile before you took the pen and shoved it in your bag. Before he could say another word, you were out of the room in a flash. Making your way to the library, you said a quick hello to the librarian before settling in your normal corner. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a few moments to relish the quiet before taking out a book. You took an apple from your backpack, something to hold you over until dinner, and started to read.

Peter noticed little moments like this from you over the next couple weeks. You never talked to anyone, and he meant anyone. You weren’t in any clubs. You did good on your tests and homework from what he could tell, but you barely spoke in class. He tried talking to you, getting to know who you were. But he couldn’t even begin. He stumbled over his words so often it was as if he wasn’t a crime fighting hero at night. He was a nervous teenager who couldn’t even talk to a girl.

Then he saw you in the library during homeroom. He needed to grab a book and saw you sitting in the corner reading by yourself. He decided now would be a good time to say something, because he could always just leave.

“Hey… it’s (Y/N), right?” He asked, book in his hand.

You examined the book for a couple seconds before nodding your head in response.

“I’m Peter… mind if I join you?” He asked and motioned to the small space open next to you.

You replied with a shrug, not really expecting anyone to want to join you. Midtown was a school of geniuses but who wanted to sit in the library with some quiet girl when they could be working on the next gen Iron Man repulsers… or something.

So you sat like that for the rest of the homeroom period. In silence as both of you read your books. It became something you did every day, you would sit in your corner and Peter would join you. You wondered where his friends were, but figured he just sat with them at lunch since he never came to the library at that time.

Eventually, you decided to ask him about his book, and he told you a small description before asking about yours. He loved the way your eyes lit but when you spoke about it, going into much more detail than he did. He didn’t care; he could see how happy you were like this. It took a lot for you to speak up and ask, and when you got talking about it, you didn’t want to stop.

That small interaction turned into more and more. Passing by each other in the hall, you would say hi. You even introduced yourself to Ned and MJ. Peter asked you to lunch and you started to sit with him and Ned, still only eating an apple and reading your book.

Of course, you didn’t give up the quiet time during homeroom. You would sit in the library still with Peter, quiet as you read. Small conversations would happen here and there, but nothing huge.

Peter couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way you crinkled your nose when you didn’t like a sentence (or found an issue with the grammar) of a book. The way you stared daggers at anyone who dared bend the corner of a book page. How your tongue slightly stuck out of the corner of your mouth when you underlined or highlighted anything in your notes. He noticed the small things, and that’s what made him fall for you.

At the same time this was happening, Peter still had his Spider-Man duties at night. He patrolled, coming across another masked figure who was (oddly) always around some sort of greenery. Peter didn’t see what her powers were, but he knew she was good. She would always help whoever was in need, but never spoke to him. She was you, you were the other vigilante going around Queens to help. You would never admit it, but you actually were inspired by Spider-Man. Seeing him help the neighborhood was cool, and you wanted to do your part. Especially when you found out about your powers.

Peter didn’t make any connections to you being the other vigilante at all, and you were oblivious to him being Spider-Man as well.

“Hey! Ivy!” Spider-Man called out one day, hoping down from one of his webs. “What are your superpowers anyway? I haven’t seen you use them.” He asked curiously, tilting his head ever so slightly.

You turn to face him, uncrossing your arms. “What does a spider like you need to know that for?” You asked. You always had this new found confidence when you were Ivy. It was so easy for you to go around and beat up bad guys, take down mafia rings, and so much more. You had little quips here and there. When you could use your powers, you felt like a different person.

“Well… you and I have helped each other-“ He started.

You let out a puff of air. “Help? I think you just get in my way.” You said. “Hey, how do you know my name?” You asked.

“Oh uh… you’re kind of plastered all over the Daily Bugle. They think we’re in cahoots.” He said and laughed a bit. “But your powers…”

“I can grow plants.” You deadpanned. You could tell his confusion by the slight narrowing of his eyes. “Like… vines.” You said and held out your hand, making the vine from the side of the building grow. “See? That’s why my name is Ivy.”

“Oh that’s so cool! Were you born with it or did you gain those powers later? How did you figure it out?” He asked, coming closer to you.

“I’ve gotta go.” I said quickly, not wanting to get close to him. You jumped down the fire escape and ran away.

Peter was going to get you to talk eventually. He couldn’t not be friends with the one of the only other superheroes in Queens.

“(Y/N), have you seen the stuff about that new vigliante in the news?” Ned pulled you into his and Peter’s conversation. You looked up from your book, shrugging your shoulders.

“There’s a new vigilante every day… you’ll have to be more specific.” You said and looked back down to your book.

“Ivy, the one who uh… wrapped vines around that cartel boss the other night? Or when she threw one of those venus fly traps to those robbers?” Peter chipped in.

You looked over to him and shrugged. “I’ve seen it.”

“Do you know who she is?” He asked and raised his eyebrows.

You scoffed, pursing your lips to hold back a laugh. You never showed this much emotion. “Yes, Parker. Because I would know who a secret vigilante, with a hidden identity, is.” You said, more sarcasm laced in your words than Peter or Ned had ever heard before.

Peter eyed you for a few seconds before you added, “That’s like asking me if I know who Spider-Man is. It’s ridiculous.” You said.

“Yeah, completely ridiculous. We don’t know who Spider-Man is.” Ned said quickly, wincing when Peter elbowed his side.

“Alright, you two are being weird. I’m going back to reading.” You said, looking back to your book so you could keep reading. Peter and Ned continued talking with her… well, you. You kept glancing over to them, unable to focus on your book. You couldn’t let them find out who you were. “She’s probably just a random woman, why do you care so much?” You asked.

“She’s a girl,” he said and you furrowed your eyebrows. “I- I met her once.” He said and shrugged. “Well.. I’ve seen her a lot. I’ve only talked to her once. But she’s our age.” He said.

“You met Ivy?” You asked, pretty sure that you never met or talked to Peter as Ivy before.

“Uh… well, Spider-Man did.” He said and shrugged. “And I know Spider-Man.”

“Sure you do,” you said and laughed a bit, grabbing your book and getting up. “You’re both too loud for me today, I’m going to the library.” You said.

“I’ll join you!” Peter said quickly, bolting out of his seat.

“Pete… you don’t have to keep me company all the time.” You said and smiled over at him. “Plus, who would Ned sit with then?” I asked.

Peter practically melted when you said his nickname. “Uh.. right.” He muttered and sat back down. “I’ll see you in Chem!” He said and smiled.

That night, you were patrolling around Queens when you heard some commotion in an alley. You grabbed onto one of your vines and slide down in stealth, eyes widening when you saw Peter changing into a Spider-Man suit.

“Peter?”

Part 2 Coming Soon

Main Masterlist

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #spider-man #spiderman #marvel #peter parker drabble #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker reader insert #tom holland

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manchurian-barnes · 1 year

Text

Coffee Shop Blues and Reds Series Masterlist

Post NWH Collage! Peter Parker.

Busy nights filled with college course work, leads to late nights in a crappy coffee shop, the only perk? Friendly neighbourhood company.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four (coming soon)

Finale (coming soon)

If you enjoy this series and are curious about my other works you can find them on My Masterlist!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker series #mcu reader insert #mcu x reader #peter parker reader insert #peter parker imagines #peter parker #spider man imagine #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x y/n #peter x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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periprose · 1 year

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Florence - Masterlist

You and Peter Parker are former childhood best friends. As next door neighbours, you and him spent a great deal of time together, either at school, playing video games, or during your yearly summer vacations at Florence, Italy.

But after you drifted away from him- you both went to different colleges, and you figured you wouldn't need to bother him anymore with your unrequited crush that you had never spoken of but clearly showed symptoms of- things are very awkward. It's even more so when you receive an invitation to Harry and MJ's destination wedding, located at Florence, of course.

Former childhood friends to friends to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, possessive/protective!Peter, lots of partying, Italian culture and architecture, lavish luxury stuff, MJ's modelling career, fluff and angst and eventual smut, wedding stuff, flashbacks to childhood, and probably just way too much detail, dialogue, and banter

No use of y/n, you go by your last name and you are Logan Howlett's daughter. You go by Howlett or Lettie for short.

Using the TASM cast and Hugh Jackman as Wolverine. I personally imagine Alexina Graham or Fernanda Ly as MJ, but you're welcome to imagine any redhead you'd like.

Also on AO3

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

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headkiss · 6 months

Note

omg peter and reader taking a walk on some little trail and they push one another into leaf piles and being love sick idiots <3

this is so cute!!! tysm for the request <3 i went the pining best friends route rather than established relationship, hope that’s okay! | 0.6k of fluff!

You and Peter have been friends for what feels like forever. He’s in almost every memory you have, as far back as they go. Your childhood best friend, your now best friend, the only boy you’ve ever loved.

Growing up across the hall from each other had its perks. A mother figure in aunt May, someone to walk to school with, a door that was always open for you.

You’ve spent so much time with him that it’s sort of impossible to imagine things any other way. Not that you’d need to.

Late September has a chill seeping into the city. Leaves changing color, hands hidden in jacket pockets, cheeks and noses bitten by cold wind. Fall surrounds you and you don’t mind one bit. Not when Peter’s beside you, too.

He’d come knocking on your door earlier (even though he doesn’t need to knock, as you’ve told him countless times) and asked you to go for a walk with him. Easy, like breathing or blinking, you’d said yes.

It’s nice to have someone to do these things with, to be mundane and quiet without a trace of awkwardness. All of this comfort and you’ve yet to tell him how you feel, how in love you are.

Peter walks close enough to you that your arms brush with every step, jacket against jacket, warmth seeping into your skin every time. When he walks alone, he’s quicker, strides full, earbuds in. With you, he’s learned to match your pace, to slow himself to stay next to you.

“You cold?” Peter asks, even when he’s the one with his cheeks pink from the breeze.

“Mmm, just my hands.” You tilt your head up to the sky, then towards him. “It’s a nice day.”

And it is. Despite the chill, the sun’s shining, the trail you and Peter are taking tucked away enough from the city that it doesn’t feel like you’re in it. Rustling leaves in the wind, fallen ones littering your path, the smell of fall in the air. Your favorite boy as company.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, eyes catching yours. Then, he reaches for the hand closest to him, his fingers curling around yours, and tucks your joined hands into his coat pocket. “There.”

You feel warmer already, his palm against yours, but you try to play it off. “How’s your pocket any warmer than mine?”

“‘Cause your coat’s a joke. I’ve got fleece-lined pockets, ‘kay? Way warmer, honey.”

“Leave it to you to be a nerd, even about a jacket.”

He shrugs innocently, shoulder to a rosy cheek.

Peter takes any excuse he can to be close to you, to touch you, and he knows what that means. He knows he loves you, and he’s not really hiding it. It sinks into everything he does. Walking closer to the road, letting you have the last sip of your shared milkshakes, going to see the latest horror movie with you when he hates the genre.

As much as Peter wants to tell you, he also wants this to work, to fall into place the way he thinks things will. You’ve had your whole lives with each other so far, and there’s the rest of a lifetime to go.

“Did you just call me a nerd?”

“You heard me, Parker.”

“Well, in that case…”

One second you’d been walking beside him, the next, Peter’s pushed you over into a pile of leaves beside the trail. It’s probably the most gentle push ever, but it’s enough to make you trip over your feet.

“Peter,” you groan, dragging out his name. “At least help me up.”

You hold out your hand, laying on your back, leaves probably stuck to your clothes and in your hair. Peter takes it—of course, he does—and with a tug, you’ve got him laying next to you.

“I always fall for that one,” he says, his hand still in yours, shoulders shaking a little with his laughter.

You turn your head to look at him, and he does the same, your noses an inch apart, twin smiles on your faces.

A lifetime to go, Peter thinks.

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nevarrhoe · 2 years

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What if Peter and r were in a fight cuz Peter has been ignoring her and it just gets rlly smutty with Peter being such a dom …i understand if u dont want to tho ☺️

ohhhh but this is hot i do love angst that leads to smut (i always write these with tasm! peter in mind oops no regrets)

smut below the cut. minors dni. + also afab! reader

peter doesn't mean to ignore you; i kind of imagine it coming from you guys being in a low key fight already and then he accidentally ignores you and makes it worse

you kinda have to corner him and make him argue it out because you have a lot to get out your system and he's just not giving you the time of day

honestly, it's because peter parker is a fucking dumb ass and he assumes that's what you want - space, time, whatever

so you're arguing and yelling at each other and then somehow you both pause and just kind of. start kissing.

and it's heated and hot and somehow more passionate then when you're both good with each other

because of his powers, peter is naturally more dominant

as in he'll be the one who leads, the one who tells you what to do, etc (not all the time, but most the time - don't think this boy cannot be topped because he CAN)

but that's tenfold now. it normally takes a bit more for him to crack out the super strength and webs and really use them on you, but now he's pretty fucking unforgiving

it's not long before he's fucking webbed you to the bed and he's going down on you harder than you ever have before

he's all "does this shut you up, huh?" and "not so mouthy now, are you?"

even after you've come once, he keeps going

then when he's finally done with his mouth - not because he's bored, the man could go down on you for hours - he's pounding into you not long after

he wants you to be loud. he encourages it, in fact

if you're into it, he'll definitely have a hand on your throat

and he keeps going and going tbh you can orgasm three four five times before he even thinks of himself

it's not always possible but he tries to align your high with his. he feels closer to you that way.

peter will drop you beside you afterwards and pull you into his chest, broad arms hugging you tightly as he presses a kiss to your forehead

it doesn't solve the argument. he knows that. but the air is a little more clear now and you feel a lot closer to one another.

#tw: smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker reader insert #peter parker smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman reader insert #spiderman imagines #marvel imagines #marvel smut #avengers smut #avengers x reader

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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

Text

White Lies, Red & Blue Tights | Peter Parker

》 PAIRING: peter parker x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: college au; established relationship; fluff; crack-ish

》 SUMMARY: You and Peter accidentally dressed up in the same costumes for Halloween. But he was not wearing a costume, it was his suit. You simply didn't know that your favorite superhero and your boyfriend were the same. Who would've thought that seeing you in red and blue would be the breaking point of his lies.

》 WARNINGS: all in peter’s pov, peter being so down bad for his gf, fluffiness & cuteness overload, so much neck kisses (all from peter, boy’s obsessed), pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel), cursing, hints of shy!reader, hints of possesive!peter, suggestive moments (mostly heavy make outs), sexual themes (including: languages, innuendos & teasing jokes), peter having an idiot™ moment (which lead to a lil scolding but nothing bad), peter being horny af™ (he sorta has a thing for a playboy bunny costume or just lingerie in general lmao), allusions to sex but nothing explicit (it’s at the end. idk why. it just happened)

》 WORD COUNT: 14.6k+ (heh, are we surprised)

A/N: it’s me, hi, posting a halloween fic in nov. bc why tf not lol. not quite sure how i feel about this, but hey, it’s just a fun fic in general and there’s nothing wrong with that. this isn’t really set on any timeline (a.k.a. nwh didn’t happen lmao) bc this was supposed to be for last year and well, idk what happened but at least it’s here now? asdfghjkl hope you enjoy! <3

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It's been nine months.

Nine months since Peter's been calling you his girlfriend and oh what a wonderful, joyous nine months it's been.

You two did know each other a little longer than that, though, but only for a few months more.

It was the first week—a Tuesday, to be specific—of freshman year when he got to class a bit too early. It was a rare occasion so to speak, given his…nighttime job.

He had plugged in his earbuds as he waited for time to pass, also to relax his nerves a little being that he didn't know anyone in this new school just yet. He didn't really have the energy to interact either after that intense fight he had with a rowdy gang the night before. It was a way to give himself some alone time, a sense of peace.

Peter was aware that people were already starting to fill up the lecture hall, but he didn't notice that someone was approaching him until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Hastily taking his earbuds out, he looked up to see who was causing the disturbance.

Only it wasn't a disturbance, it was more a gift in the guise of a breathtakingly beautiful girl.

Okay, maybe he was being a bit much but that was exactly what he thought when his eyes found yours, his heart stopping momentarily, beating again but with twice the normal pace—well, normal to his enhanced self.

"Is this seat taken?"

Who knew one simple question could make Peter's heart skip a beat? Well, it was more hearing your voice than anything else, but still. It was silly how something so mundane immediately caused the butterflies to wreak havoc in his stomach.

He stumbled upon his words like he was in high school again, settling on a squeaky,

"N-no! I-uh, it's not. You can sit, uhm—beside me."

He flashed you a shy smile as he hurriedly stood from his seat and pulled out yours. He didn't even know why he did it, exactly. He knew you were well capable of taking a seat yourself. But that day, his actions were working faster than his brain as its gears stuttered.

Besides, sitting back down while he was already standing would've only added to the embarrassment. It would've made him look weird and awkward. At least he came off as a gentleman…right?

There was no doubt his cheeks were already stained crimson, though, turning a shade deeper when you giggled out a soft,

"Thank you."

That was when you smiled, and that was also when Peter knew he was a goner.

He was rendered silent for a couple of moments, simply gazing—okay, he was probably staring but totally not in a creepy way—as you settled yourself and got ready for class.

It was when you flashed him another bright smile when he finally snapped out of it, clearing out his throat, gathering all his courage—and his own sanity—as he held his hand out.

"I'm Peter, by the way, uhm, Peter Parker."

"Y/N."

Peter thought it sounded lovely, your name, so lovely that he found himself repeating it in his head over and over. He also thought your hand felt wonderful when you shook his, your palm warm and soft, fitting perfectly in his hold—again, totally in a non-creepy way.

In case he wasn't painfully obvious enough, yes, he quickly developed a crush on you.

That day he thought you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, your figure clad in a simple sweater and jeans. And as time ticked by, he thought you only grew even more beautiful every time he saw you—still do.

Nothing could compare to when he got to know your brain though, because goddamn your mind. Your thoughts and opinions, your perspective on things to the way you're practically a genius but are completely humble about it. Never did you make anyone feel inferior with your knowledge. If anything, you're more encouraging, willing to offer help to those who need it.

Add a wonderful, witty, kind, and funny personality in the mix and damn, Peter thought you couldn't get any more perfect.

It started out casual as it always did. From small talk during class whenever it got a little boring, sharing notes, pointers and opinions to helping each other out whenever the other was having a hard time with a certain equation. It was the only class you and Peter shared, a sudden—mostly biased—opinion coursing through him when he decided it turned into his favorite.

Then phone numbers were exchanged.

Sitting beside each other turned into getting morning coffees together, tumbling to lunch dates to then waiting for you outside your last period so he could walk you to your dorm once the day ends. It wasn't long before it progressed to late night study sessions, until that also became late night movie marathons—cuddles definitely included.

By then, Peter found himself looking forward to seeing you first thing at sunrise to the last person he talked to as the moon bid its hello. He always made sure he got to spend as much time as he could with you, his day a little less bright whenever he didn't get to see you for even just a minute or two.

From there on out, your relationship blossomed like a flower in spring despite the season moving from fall to winter. As the leaves turned orange to then covered in white, a simple friendship evolved into something more, a simple attraction growing into one of passionate adoration.

New Year's was when you two made it official.

And yes, exactly with a rather cliché yet wonderful kiss as the clock struck twelve, no less.

It was the best New Year's kiss Peter had the pleasure of experiencing, the first ever kiss you two shared. It was one so special that he couldn't wipe off his smile even days after, a tingling sensation coursing through him each time he remembered the feeling of your lips on his, that same tingling sensation intensifying whenever you remind him, every day, exactly how it feels to be given your kisses.

And no, it definitely was not his spidey sense.

The only ones that could probably top it are the follow ups in the future. Because now, well underway his sophomore year in college with your one-year anniversary right around the corner, Peter found himself wanting many, many more New Year's kisses shared with you to happen down the line.

And hopefully, right at the very end of it.

Some may say it's a tad bit premature given that you'd only been together for nine months—well, neither of you had even said the L word to each other yet.

Peter was sure he'd already fallen, though. But not wanting to rush into it, or rather, spook you with the rapid speed his feelings were advancing in, he decided to keep it to himself for just a little bit more.

Still, the phrase: 'when you know, you know,' had never felt truer for Peter the more times he laid his eyes on you.

That same feeling bubbled up inside him as he stepped out of his bathroom.

You were exactly where he left you ten minutes ago, sitting on his bed with your legs crossed, sporting some gray sweatpants along with his university hoodie, one that Peter absolutely adores seeing you in.

Your computer was placed in front of you with the screen tilted up, your brows deeply furrowed as you scanned it from left to right. Your nose would scrunch every few seconds, a habit of yours whenever you're deep in concentration. Lips pursed, your fingers hit the keys, presumably hitting backspace before rushing to undo what you just erased, and then backspacing again before typing in new words.

He'd seen you do it over and over—a couple a hundred times probably—the minute you arrived in his apartment and situated yourself on his bed.

It was a mundane sight, yet Peter still thought it was a sight worthy to be captured and hung up in a museum. After all, breathtaking, beautiful art deserves to be appreciated and adored.

You were in your element and Peter enjoys watching you in your element.

There was no doubt you were rereading the same thing you'd been glued to for the past couple of hours. You started revising it when the sun was still up in the sky. Now, the moon had already replaced it yet you still hadn't stopped.

In pure concern, Peter moved over to the bed and took your laptop without warning.

"Wha—Peter no, give it back," you whined.

With one glance at the screen, Peter sighed when his assumption was proven right, making sure to save the document before closing your laptop and putting it on his desk.

When he turned back to you, there was nothing but a pout on your lips, body slumped as you looked at him with the cutest puppy eyes in hopes that it'll work its magic and make him give it back to you. It usually did—you're very hard to resist with those eyes, Peter admits—but right now, he shook his head no with a knowing smile.

"You've reread that a couple of hundred times already," he said, tapping your leg and urging you to uncross them. And you did, slowly straightening them out with a deep sigh, probably realizing you weren't getting your computer back anytime soon.

It only made Peter grin wider.

"Overcompensating," you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

"I myself have reread it at least...a couple fifty more." He raised a brow at you as he started to crawl into bed, his palms landing flat on either side of your thighs with your legs in between his knees.

"You've read it twice!" you laughed, shaking your head as you snaked your arms around his shoulders, his face now only a couple of inches from yours.

"What I'm trying to say is," Peter started, kissing the tip of your nose sweetly before he met your gaze, nothing but honesty in his voice. "That essay is already brilliant, you don't need to revise it over and over."

"You always say that." You pouted, fingers threading through the hair on the back of his head. "It's such a biased opinion, too."

"Doesn't mean it's not true," he pointed out, tilting his head at you knowingly. "I mean, did you ever get a low mark whenever I say that about anything you've made?"

"No," you murmured, sighing softly before brushing the tip of your nose with his in the most adorable of ways. Peter's heart could only grow warmer and bigger at the gesture. With your pout in play, you said, "But come on, just—let me revise it one more time?"

Peter shook his head at you, his girlfriend, ever the perfectionist.

He adored it, he did, admired it even. But sometimes, you simply didn't know when to stop even though you'd already given it your all. And when you were already drained to the bone, it was only a matter of time before you started getting frustrated with it. After that, it'll only do more harm than good to a point where you'd even have the impulse of redoing everything when it was already impossible for you to make it even more perfect than it already was.

Peter already saw it happen a couple of times to know it as fact. So, he always made sure to step in when needed.

"You're overworking yourself again, sweetheart."

"I'm not—"

Peter cut you off with his lips on yours, his heart melting when your giggles hit his ears as he gently pushed you backward until you were completely lying down, him hovering above you. Laughter echoed around the room as he went to litter your face with loud, smacking kisses, only stopping once he was sure that there was no skin left untouched. Then, with a fake, exaggerated yawn, Peter let his arms give out, his whole body landing right on top of you, a soft oomf escaping your lips as he pinned you down the bed with his weight.

"Pete, let me go," you sighed. You tried to push him off but with no ounce of success since, of course, he's much stronger than you. "I need to add a few more things."

"No, you don't." Peter buried his face in the crook of your neck then, earning more giggles from you when he rubbed his nose on your skin as if he was a cat. "What you need is to give your genius brain a break," he mumbled, kissing your jaw softly before adding, "While I need to be given your cuddles."

You let out the cutest squeak when Peter sneaked his hands under your—his—hoodie, your whole body shivering when his cold palms made contact with your warm skin.

"Sorry," he chuckled against your neck, snuggling closer as he curled his fingers around your waist, caressing your sides tenderly with his thumb.

"You're cold."

"And you're so warm."

You shifted into a more comfortable position when Peter moved his hands to rest flat against your bare back, the fabric of the hoodie moving along with his wrist as he trailed his fingers up and down your spine comfortingly.

"Did you wash your hands, Parker?"

He chuckled, "Course I did. Why do you think they're cold in the first place?"

"You better have," you grumbled. Peter planted a kiss on your skin in response, silently confirming that he did wash his hands after going to the bathroom. Your fingers thread their way into his hair, scratching his scalp exactly how he liked it making a shiver run down his spine. You giggled, "Comfy?"

"Super comfy," Peter groaned, his whole body sinking into you more as he nuzzled his face on your neck with a deep exhale.

"Good," you sighed as you relaxed under him, a smile tugging at Peter's lips when you started drawing random shapes on his t-shirt-clad back with your free hand.

Comfortable silence rang in the air after that. Well, the room was mostly silent but for Peter, his ears were filled with your heartbeat, a steady sound that puts him immediately in a calm, peaceful state.

Every time he listened to it, somehow, his own heart would gradually start syncing up with yours. It was even the same the other way around when you're the one listening to his heartbeat when you lay on his chest. His enhanced hearing sometimes had a hard time picking up which thump was yours and which was his. It's cheesy but it's like they're beating together as one, and it's one of Peter's favorite things.

Shifting in his place, he glanced at his bedside table for a moment, his smile widening when he saw the small ghost lamp you giddily bought for him the minute the calendar showed October 1st. It was part of a set, the Jack-O-Lantern string lights draped on the wall right by his bed, coating the bland paint with an orange glow. You had the same decorations in your dorm room, a matching one to be exact. It was the most endearing thing seeing you get all excited when you both put it up together.

You love Halloween.

Peter found it adorable, especially when you told him you love going out of your way to dress up each year whenever you had the means to do so.

"You haven't told me what you're dressing up as at the Halloween party tomorrow," he asked.

It was an annual thing that one of your friends threw, yet this was going to be the first one that you and Peter get to attend together, more so, as a couple. You invited him last year but a certain duty called which took longer to get done so he wasn't able to make it.

He still felt bad despite you reassuring him that it was okay that he missed it. That also meant he didn't get to see your angel costume, which was part of the reason why Peter hated missing it.

He really wanted to see you in an angel costume.

But then again, you didn't need to dress up for you to look like an angel in his eyes—cheesy, he knows, but true, nonetheless.

Either way, this was going to be the first time Peter will see you dressed up as something for Halloween. He found himself getting curious, but also quite excited to see what you were going as this year.

"I'd rather not say."

Peter lifted his head to meet your eyes with a pout. "Why not?"

"You'll tease me about it," you hummed, fingers brushing back the stray strands that landed on his forehead. "Besides, I want it to be a surprise."

That piqued his interest even more.

"Can I have a guess?" Peter pushed himself up, resting on his forearms as he met your gaze with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at him skeptically. "No?"

"Hmm, is it skin tight?" he guessed anyway, head dipping so he could connect his lips with your jaw, kissing it a couple of times before trailing down your neck.

"Maybe," you giggled, head tilting to the side to give him more access. Your hand found its way to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you let him shower you with affection.

Peter's brows rose at that, your answer heightening his curiosity. Placing one open mouth kiss on the space just below your ear, he asked, "Is it made of latex?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Leather then?" he chuckled.

"Why leather?" you asked, confusion with a hint of amusement coating your tone.

"So...lace?" he hummed, voice dropping an octave. He lightly nipped your neck, his smirk widening when you gasped.

"What?"

Peter didn't know what he found more adorable, the sweet sound of your giggle that followed his incessant kisses, or the fact that you still hadn't caught onto what he was implying.

You're one smart woman, no questions asked, but you did have your oblivious moments sometimes.

"Is it a one-piece or a two-piece?" Peter continued, moving over to the other side of your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and light bites, a sigh reverberating out of you every time his tongue darted out to soothe your skin. "Maybe three?" he added.

"Still have no idea where you're going with this."

"Does it have something to do with bunny ears—"

"Peter!" you squeaked, both your hands covering your face, your lovely laugh getting muffled by your palms.

You two had been intimate before, more than a couple of times. You weren't each other's firsts either—well, you both were each other's seconds to be specific. Peter felt glad that you two got to share that experience. It's special in its own right. But still, you always got shy and downright flustered whenever Peter would joke or tease you about anything involving stuff in the bedroom.

He always found your reactions absolutely adorable, hence why he tends to throw them out a lot. Sexual innuendos, dirty jokes and even explicit reminders as to the things you'd done together—without crossing the line, of course. Plus, you reassured him you didn't mind it, hell, you'd even throw some back at him. You simply couldn’t help being shy whenever he did so.

Peter sat up, his knees straddling your hips as he removed your hands from your face. Interlacing your fingers together, he pinned them on the pillow on either side of your head, preventing you from hiding anymore.

"Should I take that as a yes?" he drawled huskily, wiggling his eyebrows at you, leaning down until his face was hovering inches above yours.

"You're a dork," you giggled, tilting your head up to peck his lips. His heart warmed at the gesture.

"Is that why you want it as a surprise?" he said, narrowing his eyes at you, adding with a half-joking, half-serious tone, "But only for me, right?"

"Peter!" you laughed heartily, the corners of your eyes crinkling, your beautiful face glowing with joy in a way that Peter couldn't help but close the distance as he leaned in for a kiss.

"What?" he chuckled against your lips. He released your hands from his grasp only for him to drape them around his neck, your fingers quick to play with his hair.

"How are you always horny?" you teased, delight coating your tone.

Peter pulled away with an exaggerated gasp, jaw slacked as he glared at you, feigning offense. "I am not always horny."

"Sure, you're not," you snorted.

"Fine, maybe, most of the time," he grumbled, sitting back up again so he could have a full look at you, so beautiful underneath him, especially with that wonderful smile gracing your lips. He tilted his head, hands running up and down your sides. "Then again, have you looked at yourself in the mirror? When my girlfriend looks like this, how can I not be horny?"

"I'm in sweats and a hoodie," you pointed out, shaking your head with a giggle.

"Which still looks very sexy on you, F-Y-I," he said firmly, no teasing, no bullshitting. You could be wearing a potato sack for all he cares and you'd still look incredibly gorgeous and stunning in his eyes. Smirking, he added, "And when it's my hoodie, even sexier—fully naked, though, now that's the sexiest."

You threw your head back with a hearty laugh.

Peter dipped his head then, unable to resist placing more kisses on your stretched out neck. He only pulled away once he was satisfied with the giggles you emitted.

"You're such a teenage boy," you hummed, pushing back the brown locks that covered his forehead with a smile, eyes glowing with amusement but also, adoration as they looked through his.

He rolled his eyes teasingly. "I'm closer to twenty-one than nineteen so technically," he paused, clearing out his throat, making his voice deeper as he said, "I'm a man now."

"Right," you laughed, nodding slowly, scrunching up your face. "Even though you just turned twenty about three months ago."

"It's basic math, sweetheart," he snorted.

"I say your basic math is flawed, Mr. Parker," you challenged.

He grinned at that, lips finding your jaw again, and it didn't take too long for him to be back to painting the warm skin of your neck with kisses.

Peter's addicted to kissing your neck, he will wholeheartedly admit. He's addicted to the soft sound of your giggles and satisfied sighs, to the delicious moans when he kisses it a little harder. He's addicted to the comforting warmth of your skin, the lovely scent that's so you mixed with your body wash, either marrying or aiding with how sweet you taste. He's addicted to the thump of your pulse, its accelerating pace whenever he'd press his lips against it, and being so close that he could hear your heartbeat entirely clear, especially with his enhanced abilities.

The culmination of every little thing made Peter feel safe, at peace, at home, right here in your arms with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Or maybe he might've been a vampire in another life for all he knows. Then again, that wouldn't make sense because they're immortal. They wouldn't have a second life...right?

Kissing your neck comes close to second to kissing your lips though, because that—whew, that's a whole other, more powerful drug Peter's addicted to.

"Steering back to the topic before you distracted me," he spoke after a few moments, lifting his head just so he could raise a brow at you. "So, not a playboy bunny?"

"Peter!"

"I'm trying to guess!"

"And I told you not to guess!"

"Fine, if you're not telling me then I'll keep mine a surprise, too," he grumbled, feigning disappointment as he dropped his whole body on you again.

"Oh."

That was when your fingers started to scratch behind his ear, a low moan reverberating in the back of Peter's throat as his whole body shivered and then melted into your hold.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned.

"You're like a cat sometimes," you teased with a giggle.

"It just feels really nice—ugh," he let out another groan when you started running your other hand up and down his back, nails scratching his skin lightly, comfortingly over the fabric of his t-shirt. "Especially when you do that, too." He kissed your skin dazedly, nuzzling his face on your neck before adding, "But I know what you're trying to do."

You shrugged, mumbling, "I'm not trying to do anything."

"You're trying to lull me to sleep so you can push me off and get your computer," he pointed out, which made you laugh.

"Sometimes it's concerning how well you know me," you joked, though he could hear how amazed and grateful you were, simply at the fact of him being extra attentive when it came to you.

It was the same the other way around too. You know him, all his little ticks and flaws, just like that back of your hand. Peter smiled against your skin, his heart melting ten times over at the simple thought.

"What if I tell you I can actually read minds?"

"Well, I am very sure you can't."

"What's your proof?"

"Because if you can then, you would've already begun doing the things I'm thinking of right now."

Peter's head shot up at the suggestive tone in your voice. And with the way you were chewing on your bottom lip, eyes slightly a shade darker, it was enough to confirm that you were indeed thinking of something far from innocent.

"Oh?"

He sat up fully, your hands sliding down his body and landing on the bed on either side of you. Peter's fingers curled around your thighs then, spreading your legs apart so he could kneel in between.

"Is that so?" he murmured, teasingly moving his hands up, pushing the fabric of the hoodie to slowly expose your skin, inch by inch until he was able to run his thumbs just under the swell of your breasts, nothing in the way given that you were braless underneath.

"Mm-hmm." You nodded with a smirk, wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him to come closer. Peter leaned down with a deep chuckle, face hovering above yours.

"And by doing things, you mean..." he trailed off, his hands moving further up until you sucked in a breath, a soft moan following suit when his fingers squeezed. He smirked smugly. "Doing you, right?"

"Just kiss me, Parker."

Being with you, sharing sweet and simple to steamy and spicy moments with you, it's pure bliss and Peter wouldn't want it to end.

But along with the constant want of his heart to never let you go, his mind also never failed to remind him that with that kind of commitment, comes along the if and when he should tell you his well-kept secret:

That he's Spider-Man.

It wasn't due to the lack of trust per se, it was more so him trying to protect you. The whole cliché of a superhero keeping his identity a secret to protect those he loves by not giving his enemies the upper hand to use them against him—you know, that stuff.

With a side dish of not wanting you to carry that burden of worry and panic whenever he's out there doing his crime-fighting job. He'd seen what it's done to weigh down Aunt May, stress befalling her most, if not, all nights he was out on patrol. Peter didn't really want to hand that baggage over to you too.

So yeah, it wasn't a trust thing. Because he'd grown to trust you with every part of his enhanced being—Peter trusts you with his life.

And he knew you felt the exact same way solely from the fact that you always believe him each time he'd tell you a half-assed reason why he was out later than usual. You never question him whenever he'd tell you a lie as to why there was suddenly a bruise or a cut on his skin, one that would heal merely a few hours later.

As he said, you're one smart woman. It wasn't surprising to see the doubt that would flicker in your eyes whenever he'd throw an excuse that simply didn't add up. Yet every time, that doubt would only last for a split second before it'd disappear completely. Instead of questioning it, you let your judgment be somewhat clouded all because you trust him.

You trust that he wouldn't lie to you, trust his word above anything else.

The guilt would always chew him up from the inside out, harshly and ravenously until it would eat him whole.

Because if there was one thing Peter hated the most in this world, it was lying to you.

Yet he found himself spewing one after another on Halloween night.

•••

When Peter moved nearer to campus, he made sure to pick an apartment where he didn't have to deal with a roommate and with a window situated right by an alleyway. It made it easier for him to sneak in and out without raising much suspicion. He didn't have any incident of getting caught so far, not even remotely close encounters. He was always extra careful.

But tonight, Peter simply made the mistake of not checking his phone first before sneaking back into the window of his room.

He was cutting patrol short. After all, he had a Halloween party to attend.

And as always, timing was never short of impeccable.

The first second his feet landed on the hardwood floor. The next second he pulled his mask off his face and threw it across the room. Then, after that, the door swung open.

Peter spun around reflexively, aimed and ready to fire his web shooters until his eyes landed on…

You.

His heart stopped, beating again but at twice the normal pace. But the reason for his heart suddenly joining the marathon was not because you caught him in his suit, nor was it the likelihood of exposing his secret to you far too early than he intended to—oh no, definitely not that.

It was because he caught you wearing his suit.

You were dressed like him.

You were dressed as Spider-Man.

Peter pointed at you just as you pointed at him.

Two pairs of eyes blinked comically, both your mouths opening and closing like you were two fishes having a conversation out of water. You pointed at your own selves and then back at each other again, heads tilting to the side as your brows furrowed in confusion as did Peter's.

It was hilarious borderline freaky how you mirrored each other's movements.

Well, maybe you're just soulmates like that—yeah, Peter definitely likes that thought more.

One thing was for sure, though:

You're one hell of a gorgeous reflection.

"Spider-Man?!" You both squeaked at the exact same time.

Peter was doused in confusion from head to toe as he gaped at you, wondering about all the 'where' and 'how' and why on earth were you dressed as Spider-Man?!

Then it hit him.

"You'll tease me about it."

How did he not figure it out?

Peter found out early on how you were a fan of the famous web-slinger. He caught you doodling the superhero's mask in class to be specific, which Peter found so goddamn cute.

He always, always teased you about it every chance he got. It was simply because he found amusement in the fact that you had no idea that the superhero you'd been admiring from afar—quite literally as you'd only ever seen him swing above the New York, as you'd told him—was the same person who you'd invite over for a late night cuddle session, both innocent and…not so much.

Plus, the way you'd get all shy about your little crush was way too adorable that Peter just couldn't stop himself from poking you about it.

But still, it didn't really cross his mind that you'd actually be dressed as him for Halloween.

Okay, he wasn't going to lie and say that he hadn't thought about it before, letting you wear his suit for fun—fine, maybe for his own self-indulgent reasons, too. But that was for his own real suit, not a costume.

Still, Peter had to give props to whoever made this replica because damn did it look so fucking good on you.

It fitted you perfectly, hugging you—tightly, might he add—in all the right places in a way that showed your figure, one he'd come to memories and adore. It made him wonder just how long you'd been preparing this, and if you actually had it custom-made because by the looks of it, it was catered to your exact measurements. Well, you did mention how one of your friends was an expert on the sewing machine so maybe they helped tweak the costume to perfection.

Because to be completely honest—and maybe a little biased—it looked much better on you than it ever will on him and it wasn't even the real thing!

Well, maybe, not yet.

This was taking finding-it-hot-when-you-wear-his-clothes to a whole new cosmic level that's for sure.

And you donning his colors and symbols was definitely much, much sexier than any playboy bunny costume.

"Pete, y-you, how—what?" you stammered, still standing by his doorway as you stared at him in both shock and confusion.

"Surprise?" he said, trying his best to not let his smile come out as fake. "I wanted to match with you."

White lie, number one.

You tilted your head, the crease on your forehead deepening. "But why did you act so surprised?"

"I—uh, because I wasn't expecting you to burst through the door five minutes earlier?" He scratched the back of his neck. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth, either.

"Didn't I text you that I was coming early?"

"I was changing so I didn't get to check my phone."

White lie number two.

"But how'd you know?" You looked at him curiously, waving your hands over yourself. "About my costume, I mean."

"I may or may not have seen something red and blue in your closet—"

White lie number three.

"—and then when I asked you about it yesterday and you said I'll tease you about it, I figured it out."

For someone who didn't enjoy lying, it for sure was surprising how plausible his excuses were. Perhaps it came with the job, that with living this dual life, lying simply became second nature.

Peter wasn't proud of it. Not one bit.

You stayed silent, a cross between a frown and a pout playing on your lips. He could practically see the gears in your head turning.

And too stunned that you still remained standing by the doorway.

Peter walked over to you, reaching out with both hands. Your confusion didn't waver by one bit but you still gladly took them, fingers interlacing as you let him pull you deeper into his room.

After closing the door behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you in his embrace, dipping his head to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You're just one cute Spider-Fan, aren't you?"

"You find it weird," you said, tone shy, pout growing more prominent.

"What? Of course not!" he quickly said, brows furrowed. Weird was so far from what he'd describe you right now. Hot, cute, sexy, adorable, gorgeous and all his, more like. "I mean, I'm literally wearing the same thing."

"True," you hummed, eyes raking over him from head to toe. "You had this idea last minute?"

"Yup." He nodded, willing his ears to stop burning before you'd notice. "That's why I told you I had errands to run to first and I'll meet you here at eight—"

Peter jumped when his alarm started blaring, signaling that it was, in fact, eight o'clock. The time you were supposed to arrive.

It might as well have been a lie detector at this point. That's the fourth lie he'd concocted in a span of five minutes.

"Where'd you get your suit? It looks really good," you hummed, hands trailing from his broad shoulders and down his biceps, and then squeezing, your gaze burning through the same path. "Really, really good."

Peter blushed, stomach fluttering when you rested your palms over it, so unashamedly feeling his abs with a pleased hum and an appreciative nod.

If it was any other day, he would've teased you about it, reveled in the way you were boosting his ego. But he was too busy trying to create more lies to even dwell on it.

"It's like a prototype, you know, at work?" He scrunched up his face. "I borrowed it from Stark Industries."

Make that the fifth.

Your eyes widened, hands jerking away with a gasp, "You've got a million dollars on you?!"

"What? No! No," he rushed, softly wrapping his fingers around your wrists before placing them back on his shoulders. "It's not like the real, real thing you know, it's just...fabric."

Six lies in less than eight minutes.

"Fabric. Right. So they just let you borrow it easily?" You narrowed your eyes at him. There was a teasing lilt in your tone, but Peter wasn't quite sure just how much you were joking when you said,

"Or maybe you're...Spider-Man."

Just come clean, Parker.

"Pfft, that's ridiculous," he waved you off, chuckling so dryly as he took a step back. He fussed about in his room, picking up his scattered clothes to avoid your eyes. "Spider-Man wears red and black, doesn't he?"

"I—yeah," you muttered, voice turning shy. "I did notice that, sometimes."

Peter looked at you then, standing straight and spreading his arms to showcase his suit, honing in on his point. "Red and blue."

It somehow worked in his favor that the other one needed to get washed. It was at May's at the moment—okay, look, it was the only place he could wash it without the judgy eyeing and suspicious looks, alright? May just so happen to offer that she'd clean it for him. Who was he to refuse that?

"It's one of the very old prototypes. They used it to show the real Spider-Man the design and see how it looks," he explained. "They don't use it anymore. They were about to throw it away so I asked if I could borrow it."

That's one hell of a hefty seventh lie—right, Peter will stop counting. Something was telling him he was going to be spewing more than just a couple of lies tonight. He'd only feel worse if he kept tallying them.

You stood in the middle of his room with your lips pursed, brows deeply furrowed as you picked at your gloved fingers. He could tell that there was something else bothering you—well, if you believed all his excuses, that is.

"Hey, come here," he murmured, beckoning you over with open arms. Peter's heart melted when you slipped into his embrace, hands locking on the small of his back as you kissed his chin. A sweet affection, but he couldn't see past the faint frown that graced your lips. "What's wrong?"

"I feel a little bad," you admitted.

"Feel bad about what?"

"Because maybe you wanted to dress up as something else," you sighed, nuzzling your face into his neck. He could practically feel your pout against his skin as you added, "I feel like I took that choice away from you."

"Hey, no, you didn't," he chuckled, gently prying you out of your hiding spot to cup your face. "I didn't have much else planned."

He mostly bought a cheap red and black cape along with fake fangs. He was just going to pair it with the suit he wore during homecoming—well, if it still fits, anyway. If not then he would've settled for some black jeans and a white, long sleeved shirt, slick his hair back, borrow some of your makeup to darken his eyes and call it a day. So it wasn't exactly a loss that he didn't get to wear it tonight.

"I wanted to do this for you," he hummed, offering you a tender smile.

There was no doubt that he'd do anything for you, no matter what. But saying those words right now didn't seem like the sweetest thing to say. Not when it didn't hold any truth in this particular circumstance.

It started to taste bitter when your eyes lit up, your smile just as bright. And when you tilted your head to give him a quick but appreciative kiss—a gesture that would usually make Peter's heart burst at the seams—this time, it only made him feel guiltier.

It just didn't feel right being praised for something that was a lie.

"You're the sweetest, you know?"

Peter's heart squeezed at that proud glint in your eyes. But he quickly brushed off the guilt with a smile. "You like it?"

"I do, very much," you said, grinning so widely. "How do I look?"

"Fucking gorgeous," Peter gushed, smirking as his arms snaked around you, hands traveling south to that lovely ass, the suit doing wonders in accentuating it. He squeezed it playfully. "Like, yes Miss Spider-Ma'am, shoot me with those webs and pin me to bed while you ride my—"

"Peter!" you squeaked, hitting his chest lightly with a hearty laugh. Your glare had no touch of fire as you shook your head. "Whatever happened to that shy, stuttering, cutely awkward boy I met in class?"

"Don't bring that up," he whined, head dropping, face pressed against your neck.

You always teased him about his chair-pull-out incident—your choice of words, not his—and how it was quite the move to swoon a girl. Simply accidental but subtly effective. It was safe to say he still got a little embarrassed about it despite you telling him you found it endearing.

"Ah, there he is," you giggled.

"It's been nine months, I think I've overgrown being shy around you," he said. And it wasn't only time that contributed to that. Peter just felt so calm and comfortable around you. It simply was so easy, talking to you about everything, sharing his innermost thoughts, being with you. It was a blissful breeze.

"Yeah, you have. Before, you always got so shy and so, so red whenever you tell me how pretty I am," you started, eyes sparkling with mischief as you played with his hair on the nape of his neck. "But now, you don't even stutter when you say how pretty I look when I'm choking on your co—"

"Y/N!" Peter burst out laughing, the burning blush traveling from his cheeks to the whole expanse of his neck.

"Don't dish out what you can't take, Parker."

He rolled his eyes. "Pfft, I dare you to finish that sentence or I'll finish it for you."

"Hmm, that's what you always do, isn't it?" You tilted your head, eyelashes fluttering.

"Want me to do that now?" Peter smirked as his palm found its way back atop your spandex-covered cheeks, giving it a few loving taps.

"Nope, because we need to go," you giggled, pecking his lips before escaping his hold. "We're way past being fashionably late."

"You're not playing fair," he huffed.

"I'm not playing anything." You shook your head with a chuckle, opening the door and offering your hand out. "Come on, you can survive a semi."

"You're so mean to me sometimes," Peter grumbled, retrieving his mask and slipping it into the newly added pocket in his suit before turning back to you, glaring with no malice at all. "Making fun of my semi—which you caused, by the way—when you didn't even greet me with a proper kiss when you got here."

"I didn't?" you gasped sarcastically, your gloved fingers interlacing as you made your way out of his apartment. "I'm sorry, Pete, those thick thighs are just so distracting. It's turned my brain to mush."

"The objectification!" Peter said in feigned offense, though he couldn't stop his cheeks from burning at the simple thought of you checking him out.

You laughed, pressing a hand on his chest to steady yourself as you pressed your lips against his.

Peter grinned, humming in satisfaction, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you warmly against his chest. Tilting his head to the side, he tried to pry your lips open with his tongue, letting out a sound between a whine and a groan when you denied him access.

"Let's not get too ahead now," you giggled, pushing him away gently. "We're already so late."

"Fine," he sighed, pouting like a petulant child. He let you pull him along as you made your way out of the building only to stop momentarily as he realized something. You looked at him quizzically. He smirked. "You wanna know exactly what happened to that shy, stuttering, cutely awkward boy you met in class?"

"What?"

"He got blessed with really, really, really good pus—"

"Parker!"

•••

Peter's stomach was in knots.

It could be the unrelenting guilt that's been bubbling in his gut since you showed up at his place, one that only grew more rabid as you two stepped into the party. He couldn't help it. Not when you'd been proudly smiling and gushing about how you two were matching all because he was an amazing, selfless, and such a sweetheart of a boyfriend.

Or maybe it was just him getting turned on seeing you dressed in his suit. It was doing things to him, seeing you repping the red and blue proudly as the Spider-Man insignia sat prettily in the middle of your chest. He hadn't even touched on the fact that the fabric left so little to the imagination. And when Peter had already memorized every perfectly imperfect inch of your body—hell, he might as well have x-ray vision, it wouldn't have made a difference.

A glance down...

Both.

It was both.

Peter had offered to get you a drink after you'd introduced him to your friend, the host of the party. It made him seem like a gentleman, and yes, his intention was pure. But he also really needed a breather away from your proximity because one more second pressed up against you and he was just about to drag you into the nearest bathroom. And he would've, but it just didn't seem ideal to whisk you away when you just arrived a couple of minutes ago.

Making your usual drink, Peter sighed, willing himself to calm down, especially when he couldn't really hide much under his suit. And best believe it's been growing tighter by the minute.

After checking one last time to make sure it wasn't too noticeable, he made his way back to where he'd left you with your friend.

"Hey, sweet thang."

Peter outwardly cringed at the overheard words. It was honestly part of the reason why his enhanced hearing was more a curse than anything else, getting to hear conversations he'd rather not know about.

He would gladly admit he'd never been good at flirting with girls. Hell, it took a while for him to get comfortable flirting with you, even when you already got together. He'd even come out and downright say he was bad at it. But he sure as hell wasn't this awful.

Who the hell calls someone sweet thang?

Although, the secondhand embarrassment he felt was quick to change into something else, something more primal when he found out who the guy was talking to.

"Female Spider-Man, nice," the dude whistled, and Peter could already picture him checking you out. Hell, he could sense the disrespect from that sentence alone. It made his blood boil. "Maybe I can know your secret identity?"

Surely enough, Peter found a guy dressed as a caveman—quite fitting, to be honest—right in front of you, too close for comfort as he leaned against the wall, one arm against the concrete to seem smooth and cool about it. Your friend was nowhere in sight, probably doing her rounds around the house. It was her party, after all.

And you, ever the sweet and shy you, stood in your place with your arms around your body, a stance that showed you were clearly uncomfortable. And rightfully so. Peter couldn't see your face since your back was turned to him, but he could already picture your forced smile. What he could clearly see, though, was where the dude's eyes were skimming around, blatantly and disgustingly on the places where they should not be.

"Peter Parker," he interjected, appearing swiftly by your side and hooking an arm around your waist, your body immediately sinking into his hold. He handed you your drink with a smile, his heart melting when you kissed his jaw with a soft thanks. He turned back to the caveman, offering his free hand as a means to introduce himself. "The boyfriend."

"U-Uh, yeah," he stumbled, wincing when Peter gripped his hand just a little bit firmer when he shook it. "Cool costume, man."

"Thanks, it matches with my girlfriend," Peter boasted, chest puffed out, grin wide and proud.

The guy nodded with a clipped laugh, quickly turning to leave.

Peter kept his glare on him to make sure he stayed walking away.

His eyes snapped back to you when you erupted into fits of laughter.

"What?" he asked, his blush creeping back on his cheeks.

"You didn't have to embarrass him like that," you chuckled, turning to face him, your arms finding purchase around his shoulders, drink carefully held behind him.

"He called you sweet thang, I think he's embarrassed himself enough," Peter scoffed. Squeezing your waist, his jaw clenched. "He should be thankful I didn't punch him in the eyes. Checking you out like you're a piece of meat, fucking pervert."

"Hmm, if this is how you are with me wearing this," you paused, a smile laced with amusement as your fingers removed the fake web that somehow ended up in his hair, one he didn't even notice until you flicked it away. "I wonder how you're going to act if I actually wore a playboy bunny—"

"Shut up," Peter grumbled, nudging your nose with the tip of his with a pout. "I did say only for me."

You nodded, chuckling, "You did."

"I mean, I wouldn't have stopped you if you wanted to—"

"I didn't, don't worry."

"You are free to wear whatever you want. I will never control that—"

"I know."

"But I will do the necessary precautions to ward off these disrespectful bastards—"

"I know," you giggled, kissing his lips to shut him up for a moment. "Which I don't really mind."

He raised a brow. "That so?"

"Mm-hmm," You nodded, teeth gnawing at your lip, a twinkle coating your irises. "You are kinda hot when you're a bit possessive."

Peter was sure his face matched the color of his suit then.

He swiftly hid into your neck, both arms around you tightening as he groaned in embarrassment. You laughed at that, free hand smoothing over the hair on the back of his head before you turned to kiss his temple.

"You're mine," he grumbled against your skin, lightly nipping on the spot just under your jaw, suckling in affection before smoothing it out with his tongue. "And I want everyone to know that."

Peter couldn't stop his grin when he caught your whimper. It was faint, barely audible, but not enough to get past his enhanced hearing.

The ability had its plus sides, too.

He kissed your neck a little harder in response, his heart—along with something else—jumping when you tugged his hair with a gasp. He was about to ask if you two should just ditch the party when a voice interrupted.

"Damn, look at you two!" Gwen—your best friend, dressed as, Peter assumed, that evil lady in that dalmatians movie—exclaimed, giving you a hug and him a commemorative fist bump. And going off the grin on her face, she knew exactly what she just interrupted.

Peter only knew her through you, and ever since you introduced them, she always gave him grief about how he stole you from her, in every sense of the word. It's been a running joke ever since, both of them acting like they don't like each other, stemming from them having this so-called 'rivalry' over your affections—all in good spirits, of course.

"Yeah, he surprised me with his costume," you laughed, sidling back to his side. "Absolute cheese wanting to match and everything."

Peter would've laughed at how hilariously quick it was for the horniness to be replaced by guilt if he wasn't the one suffering from it.

"Yeah, yeah, vomit," she scoffed, rolling her eyes teasingly.

"Jealous much, Stacy?"

"You know I can steal her back from you so easily, Parker."

"I'd like to see you try."

Gwen smirked when she turned to you. "Quick! I need to introduce you to someone, you know, to get a feel of her for me. Since your bullshit radar is usually on point."

Peter laughed when Gwen all but dragged—well, 'stole'—you away from him. He nodded encouragingly followed by a reassuring smile when you glanced at him over your shoulder, waving you off to tell you he was fine being left alone.

It wasn't long before Peter found a few of his friends from class, anyway, lost in the conversations of outfit compliments, college—both good and how much it sucks to some— and everything in between.

•••

Peter wasn't sure how long he'd been away from you. It could've been five minutes, it could've been fifteen—hell, it could've been a minute and time just simply dragged on without you by his side.

Either way, he missed you.

Call him clingy, he didn't care. All he cared about was finding you at this party that got a little more crowded as the night grew later.

Peter heard your laugh first before he saw you.

"So, what's the secret?"

"Secret to what?" he heard you ask.

"Holding down a perfect boyfriend."

"There's no secret," you said nonchalantly. "He's staying because he wants to, not because I have to 'hold him down,' or anything."

Peter found himself nodding in agreement, following your voice that led him to the living room.

He's undoubtedly down bad for you, though. So there won't be any leaving happening unless he decidedly becomes the biggest idiot in the universe. There's not even a fleeting thought of it on his part.

"You two make it look so easy."

"It is, but also, kinda not. I mean, we still have our differences, we still fight sometimes, and like any relationship, it still requires some work but Peter—" you sighed, and he felt his heart warm when he could practically hear your smile. "He's just so understanding and patient, you know? It helps that he makes me feel comfortable to voice out my thoughts about our relationship or even on something else, and whether it's good or bad—especially the bad. Like, I don't feel scared to talk to him about something that's bothering me because he never gave me a reason to. I guess we just made sure to have that safe space and to always, always be honest with each other—"

His heart sank.

Peter couldn't take it anymore.

It was eating him up, the guilt gnawing into his flesh each time he'd hear you sing his praises.

He didn't feel like he deserved it, not when he'd been lying to you for a good amount of time, even more on this night alone.

Within good reason, yes, but still.

It wasn't fair to you because you were right. You'd been so open and honest with him all this time.

And it was killing him that he couldn't say the same thing.

Maybe it was time to finally put an end to the secrets.

You yelped in surprise when he wrapped his arms around you from behind. Chuckling, he kissed your cheek as a silent apology, nuzzling his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder soon after.

"Hello to you, too," you giggled.

"Hi," he hummed, flashing you a small smile before turning to your friends. "Can I steal this attractive arachnid for a moment?"

Peter didn't really wait for a response as he interlaced your fingers and guided you toward the front door. His mind was too preoccupied, heart thumping loud and erratic as his nerves bit at his skin, all from the fact that he was really going to do this.

He was going to tell you the truth.

"Attractive arachnid?" you teased.

"Would you have preferred: sexy spider?" he chuckled, but too distracted by the chaos in his mind, he didn't realize how nervous it sounded.

"Hey," you hummed, pulling his arm to get him to stop. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?" he breathed out, eyes darting around before turning back to you. "Outside?"

•••

"Pete, is everything okay?" you asked once you both ended up on the building's rooftop. Waiting until you got back home just seemed too far away, too much time given to overthink things.

"Yeah! Of course it is!" he squeaked, unconsciously starting to pace as he mulled over how he was going to break the news to you. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you're not acting it," you pointed out, stepping in his way, cupping his cheeks to halt his movement. You brushed your gloved thumbs across his cheeks, the fabric rough against his skin to juxtapose the sweetness of your touch. "You're worrying me."

"Everything's okay, it's just—" Peter breathed out shakily, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and pressing your palms against his cheeks a little firmer, hoping that it would anchor him, calm the raging beat of his heart and the absolute storm that disturbed his mind. "I need to tell you something."

You nodded encouragingly, eyes never short at showing him comfort, perfectly married with your sweet smile. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

Peter screwed his eyes shut, leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead, the tip of your nose, a sweet peck on your lips before pulling away, just enough so he could properly meet your gaze. He needed to see you once he'd say the words. So with a deep breath, he finally admitted,

"I'm Spider-Man."

Peter had been imagining this moment for months. He'd already flipped through various outcomes as to what your reaction could be.

He'd expected you to be angry because he'd been lying to you all this time, keeping such a huge secret from you that you'd start doubting if he ever trusted you in the first place. Perhaps you'd be a bit taken aback, then, overwhelmed, ask him some space to think about whatever it was to think about. Worst case scenario, you'd leave him because it'll be too much on your plate, having a boyfriend who went out every night into danger, the possibility of him never coming back to knock on your window always in the air.

What he hoped for the most was that you'd probably end up confused at first, slowly piecing up the puzzle but would inevitably end with you being understanding, supportive, loving, and maybe kiss him senseless and tell him how proud you were of him.

Not once did he expect you to burst out laughing.

"Me too," you cooed in between chuckles, deepening his confusion when you took both of his hands in yours. "We are Spider-Man, Peter."

"Wha—no, I'm serious," he insisted, voice almost turning into a whine. Stepping away just so you could see his whole self properly, spreading his arms for good measure. "I really am Spider-Man."

"Wait," you hummed, amusement dancing in your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

Peter blinked.

"What?"

"Is this because I have a crush on—" you gasped, a look of realization crossing your face. "No wonder why you've been acting strange when you saw my costume!"

"That's not—"

"Is that the real reason why you wore the costume, too?" you cut him off. "So you can prove to me how you look better and even hotter in it than Spider-Man?"

"You think I look hot in this suit…" Peter trailed off, eyebrows going up to his hairline, amused. "Hotter than Spider-Man?"

He honestly didn't know if he should feel offended about that revelation, or quite pleased with himself. How was it even possible to one-up his alter ego in the looks department when both identities share the same face and body?

Peter was downright confused.

He was trying to get his bearings straight, trying to make sense as to what was happening because this was so far from what he expected—and he expected many different things. For the limited time he got to spend preparing what he'll say to you, rehearsing countless speeches in his head to accommodate whatever your reaction will be, Peter had none in his cue cards for this.

"Of course I do, I've got a handsome boyfriend, don't I?" you said unashamedly, offering him a sweet smile as you moved closer to him. "But Pete, I still find you hot even if you're just wearing your shirt and flannel, or your worn-out Star Wars pajamas. So, you've got nothing to be worried about. It's just a simple celebrity crush, I mean, I don't even know the dude."

"Wha—no!" he groaned, unknowingly stomping his feet on the ground which, in hindsight, didn't at all help his situation. It made him look like that kid who tried convincing people he had water powers, bend it with fingers but it only happens in the shower. "I'm not jealous!"

"That's something a jealous person would say," you teased.

"Y/N," Peter whined, head thrown back as he rubbed his hands over his face, nose turning red due to the rough material of his suit.

"What?" you laughed.

He dropped his arms at his sides, pouting in full force as he looked at you pleadingly.

"Why aren't you believing me?"

It was hilarious, really, how the one time Peter needed you to trust his word at face value, something you never had a hard time doing, was also the moment you choose to be extra skeptical about it.

"Because earlier today you've been saying a lot of stuff about how you got the suit to prove you're not Spider-Man and now you're telling me you're actually Spider-Man?" you explained. "Which one should I believe?

"Well—"

"Not to mention, telling me your Spider-Man while we're both in the costume seems...I can see you're Spider-Man, you are dressed as him, but so are a few kids around the city, it being Halloween and everything. So, I don't know, it seems like an obvious joke," you let out a nervous chuckle. Then, your smile slipped, eyes softened, glazed with something different. "Are you really him?"

"Yes!" Peter groaned in frustration. "Okay, you know what—"

If you weren't going to believe his words, then he might have to take extreme measures to prove it to you.

Show it rather than say it.

"...know what?" you asked, so many emotions flashing across your features, confusion being the most prominent. "Pete?"

He ignored you, taking out his mask from the pocket in his suit. Once he slipped it on, he ran towards the ledge, hopping on top of it with ease.

"Peter, what are you doing?"

He turned to you then, slowly walking backwards.

"Hey! Stop! This isn't funny!" you warned, movement frantic as you ran towards him. "Peter, you're getting really close to the edge!"

He stopped when the only thing left standing on the concrete was the front edge of his boots.

"Parker, get down there!"

Then, he jumped.

"No!"

Peter watched your figure grow smaller as he let himself freefall down the side of the building. He spread his arms wide, so obviously showing off before he shot his web at the concrete, pulling at it rapidly to launch himself upwards into the sky.

"Woohoo!"

He flipped over your figure with a laugh, landing back on the rooftop right behind you.

You quickly turned to look at him, shock written on your features.

He took an exaggerated bow, standing back straight to pull the mask off his head.

Peter was grinning like an idiot.

"Do you believe me now?"

You marched straight towards him.

Okay, maybe Peter got way too ahead of himself by fully expecting that you'd greet him with a heartstopping kiss. But instead, he was met by a harsh swat against his chest.

"Ow!" he yelped, more in surprise than in pain. "What was that for?!"

"You fucking asshole!" you yelled. "You scared the shit out of me!"

If your cursing didn't prove how mad you were along with the culmination of the sharp sting in your tone, the absolute fire in your eyes would've done the trick.

Because if looks could kill, Peter would've already died ten times over.

"You wouldn't believe me so I had to!"

"No you fucking didn't!" you growled, pacing in front of him, arms flailing. "I was getting there! I was still processing the goddamn bomb you just dropped at me but nooooo you just had to fucking jump off a 12-story building you, you—you fucking idiot!"

"Sweetheart—"

"Don't you fucking dare sweetheart me, Peter Benjamin Parker!"

He pressed his lips shut and threw his hands up in surrender.

"You could've just shot a web or–or showed me whatever tech you have in your suit, or climbed or stuck yourself on a fucking wall—there's a lot of those here in case you didn't fucking notice by the way! Or even just answered my fucking questions like a sane person but you just—ARGH!"

You shoved him by his chest but there was no strength in the action whatsoever. And not because you were weak nor was it due to his superhero abilities. It felt like it was because of something else.

Well, if Peter simply paid attention enough, he would've noticed how your breathing was starting to get uneven—or the fact that your eyes had started to water.

"There are literally a hundred different ways for you to prove it to me than just jumping off a building, you absolute idiot!"

"Okay, baby, you're right—"

"You are fucking grounded!"

"Wha—" Peter swallowed a laugh. "Grounded?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, pointing at him accusingly. "You are sleeping on the floor for a week—no, two weeks if ever we have a sleepover whether that's your place or mine!"

"Swee—angel," Peter called softly, choosing a different pet name in case you'd snap at him again, trying his best to bite back his smile because he knew it would only make things worse. But God you were just too cute sometimes when you're mad. "Don't you think that's a bit overkill?"

"Overkill?!" you shrilled, swiftly turning on your heel and marching towards the ledge. "How about I jump off a building? How's that for overkill!"

"Hey! Okay!" Peter ran to you when you climbed midway up the ledge. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back to safety. "Point taken!"

"Let me go!" You wiggled out of his hold, walking away from him as you dug the heels of your palms over your eyes. "You are so annoying I want to fucking—GRR! I hate you!"

Then he heard it, a sniffle.

"Oh no." He rushed towards you, his chest constricting when he caught sight of the tears that ran down your cheeks. He quickly pulled you into his embrace, rubbing your back in comfort as he whispered against your temple, "Sweetheart, please don't cry."

"I thought y-you—" you whimpered, burying your face into his neck, arms snaking around him, hands balled into fists behind his back. "I thought I watched you die. You scared me so much."

Peter's heart broke.

That didn't even cross his mind.

He honestly didn't think that it would've seemed like that to you. But now looking back on it, with you still processing the information, still doubting that he actually had powers, all you saw was him jumping off a building like he had a death wish. And not only that, but falling for a short amount of time but long enough to make you think he was about to meet his de—

Wow.

He really was an idiot.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, squeezing you in his hold as he brushed his lips against your crown. "I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that, I'm sorry."

"You had me so worried," you choked back a sob as you gripped him tighter. "I hate you. I thought I just lost you."

"Hey, no," Peter sighed, coaxing you out of your hiding spot so he could hold your face. He frowned, chest growing tighter with each tear he caught with his thumbs. "That's never going to happen, okay?"

You nodded with a whimper, eyes screwed tightly, fingers curled around his wrists to keep his touch in place. And he was just about to kiss your tears away when suddenly—

"I love you too much to lose you."

Peter froze.

Then it was immediate, his whole body buzzing with immense happiness, his heart melting, growing, thumping ecstatically, alight. That feeling burned all too powerful inside him that it easily translated into twinkling brown eyes, a bright smile, one he was sure would take a while to get rid of.

"You love me?"

Your eyes snapped open, and he practically watched you realize your own—probably accidental—spoken words in real time.

"Look what you made me do!" you groaned, wiping away your tears harshly, attempting to pull away but he only hooked his arms around your waist, caging you in.

"So you don't hate me?" he teased.

"Fuck you!" you growled, shoving him off—successfully due to the element of surprise—before stomping away.

"Hey, come back here!" Peter called out, giggling as he ran after you.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you up and spinning you around without warning, your squeal and his laughter married perfectly as they filled the night air.

You gripped his forearms tightly for support, probably taken aback by his sheer—superhuman, if he got down to basics—strength. He'd been very careful in hiding it around you, to not let you get suspicious, especially when you never see him go to the gym ever. And now...well.

He placed you back down after your constant wiggling and protests. With one arm secured around your waist, he turned you around to face him. And before you could even have the chance to scold him, he cupped your jaw and crashed his lips against yours.

Peter grinned when he could practically feel the anger leave your system.

Your shoulders relaxed with a shaky breath, palms flat against his chest, your head tilted to take every ounce of passion he was giving you.

He groaned when you let him kiss you a little deeper, your lips parting to let him in, body curving into his to be impossibly closer. You poured just as much fervor into the kiss that left him breathless, even for his enhanced self. But still, he couldn't get enough of it—your taste, your presence, your touch, your love.

Peter stroked your cheek adoringly once he pulled away, the tips of your noses brushing as he whispered to his world,

"I love you too."

He laughed when you all but buried your face into his neck as a means to hide, so obviously flustered and, no doubt, overwhelmed. What, with everything that had happened in the last couple of minutes alone, he couldn't blame you.

So Peter just held you there, gently swaying you side to side, littering whatever part of your face he could reach with warm kisses.

He honestly couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"We are Spider-Man," he chuckled after a moment. "That's kinda romantic, you know, means we're a team."

"Shut up," you grumbled, finally emerging out of your hiding spot only to glare at him—cutely, might he add. "So whenever I'd tell you why I have this crush on Spider-Man, all I ever did was boost your ego without even knowing."

"See? Not jealous," he smugly said. Though his grin was quick to turn sheepish as he asked, "So...what'd you think?"

Peter's heart soared when a bright smile lit up your face.

"I think you're the greatest superhero of all time," you hummed, giving him a quick kiss before scrunching up your face. "But that comes second to being the best boyfriend of all time, though."

"Definitely not complaining," Peter chuckled. "I even think the second achievement is better, I mean, best boyfriend? To the greatest woman that's ever existed all across universes? Me? What?" Peter dropped his jaw purposely as he shook his head, his heart growing even more when you threw your head back with that lovely laugh.

Your eyes were twinkling with pure joy when you met his brown ones.

"You're crazy."

"For you? Duh."

Your smile softened, fingers tracing his jaw before you cupped his face, kissing him swiftly yet sweetly before looking at him with nothing but pure adoration.

"I'm proud of you."

Peter felt his eyes water, not knowing what to say. So instead, he pulled you back in for another, deeper kiss, pouring as much of his heart into it to let you feel the words he couldn't find at the moment.

"I'm so in love with you," he sighed against your lips, arms squeezing your waist affectionately.

You giggled, "I'm so in love with you too."

God he will never, ever get tired of hearing you say that.

"Now that that's out of the way," he murmured, pulling away to scan you from head to toe, blowing out his cheeks in appreciation. "You look so fucking hot in my suit—well, copy of my suit."

"Now that that's out of the way," you repeated, rolling your eyes. "I'm actually still mad at you."

He chuckled, brushing his lips against yours, "Then let me make it up to you?"

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Wanna swing around the city with me?"

"Nope!" you scoffed, stepping away from him, arms crossed, chin up, eyes glaring.

"But you always said you wanted to know what it feels like! You kept raving about how cool it must be and if given the opportunity you'd take it and well—" He gestured at himself from head to toe, basically the opportunity presenting itself.

"Yeah, and I still do," you agreed. "But you're not using Spider-Man as a means to soften me up now, Parker, nor will you use any of the information I told you in confidence to get out of situations you put yourself in."

"It sounds so bad if you put it like that," he grumbled, smiling at you sheepishly.

"You, as Peter Parker, still decided to give me a heart attack by jumping off a building and letting me think you actually died for a second. So, you're not getting off the hook easily by wooing me with your cool superpowers and superhero tricks."

"I said I was sorry," he conceded, walking closer to you, rubbing your arms with the best pout and puppy eyes he could give you. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

You furrowed your brows, lips pursed, foot tapping against the concrete as you acted like you were thinking about it.

"Okay, fine, let's do it," you sighed after a moment, waving him off. "I was planning to show you the playboy bunny outfit I hid under my bed—"

The way Peter's body shot up straight at that sentence was comical.

"—but since you really want to swing around the city then, until next time, I guess, whenever that may be."

"Yeah, no, we should go home." He nodded hurriedly, grabbing your hand and going towards the rooftop exit.

"Horny bastard," you laughed, shaking your head.

"Wait, on second thought," he paused, looking around before grabbing your waist, pressing you against the nearby wall with a wicked grin. He let his eyes travel over you, thumbing the material that covered your figure. "I kinda want you to keep this on."

You scrunched up your face teasingly. "A bit weirdly narcissistic but okay."

"It's not like that!"

"Sure it's not," you snorted. "Should we do it in front of the mirror too?"

Peter's entire face grew hot red at the suggestion.

You gasped, eyes widening before you laughed.

"Stop it!" he groaned in embarrassment, head falling on your shoulder. "I'm going to be watching you, not me."

"I didn't even say anything!"

Peter lifted his head up to glare at you.

"I'm not narcissistic," he scoffed, rolling his eyes, even though he knew you were just joking with him. "You know how I find it cute and hot when you wear my clothes? This just takes that to a whole other level."

"Right," you snorted, pushing his hair away from his forehead. "So, bunny or spider?"

Peter stared at you, offended. "Why are you making me choose?"

"Because I can't be both," you said as if it was obvious enough.

"Yeah you can," he said, grinning at you knowingly. "You're going to become Spider-Bunny."

You looked at him weirdly. "Spider-Bunny?"

"Mm-hmm." Peter nodded enthusiastically, his hair falling over his forehead again, utter mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Like I said earlier, you're gonna web me up to the bed and crawl on top of me like a spider. Then, like a bunny, you'll be bouncing on my di—"

"Peter!" you squeaked, burying your face on his neck, your skin hot against his. "You're extra, extra horny tonight, huh?"

"Your fault, by the way," he chuckled, squeezing your waist.

"Yeah, well," you started, pulling away to smile at him, one that made him feel a little worried. And rightfully so when you added, "It's your fault you aren't getting some."

Not to act like such a dramatic and horny ass teenager but Peter's entire body actually deflated at that. He pouted at you like a petulant child who got told all the candies he'd collected for the night are going to end up in a locked cabinet somewhere.

"Why?" he all but whined.

"Grounded, remember?"

"You weren't being serious," he snorted, crossing his arms with a smug grin. But when he saw your smirk growing wider, his smile slipped. "...right?"

•••

Peter sighed.

He made sure it was loud and exaggerated enough so you could hear him from your place on the bed.

But still, you stayed quiet even though you were still awake. He knew that, and you knew that he knew that.

"Sweetheart, come on."

You ended up back at his apartment after stopping by your dorm to get an overnight bag. And now, well, you actually claimed his bed.

Sometimes he wasn't so fond of you being a woman of your word.

"My mind still hasn't changed since a minute ago, Parker."

He pouted, even though you couldn't see him. "But the floor is really cold."

Well, it was his choice to just lay in the sleeping back with only his boxers on but still.

Peter heard you sigh, his body buzzing with excitement, hoping that you'd finally cracked. And he just about cheered when you called for him.

"Get up here idiot."

He scrambled to his feet, your laugh echoing around his room when he'd managed to trip over nothing.

But when he pulled back the covers to slip in beside you, he froze.

You didn't grant him the luxury of joining you in the shower tonight so you got ready for bed separately with you going first. You were already hiding under the covers when he got out of the bathroom, only able to eye you suspiciously when you'd kept the comforter up to your chin. He got too distracted by the already prepared makeshift bed on the floor to question you about it.

Now he knew why.

"You didn't change out of it," he said, voice low, eyes dark as he pulled the covers all the way off, revealing you still in the spandex. "It’s like you want this as bad as I do."

"Maybe," you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him over you.

"You just wanted to torture me first huh, you little devil."

It was rhetorical. Both of you already knew that yes, you did want to tease him about it first.

Either way, he didn't give you any chance to respond when he immediately crashed his lips against yours.

He eagerly pried your mouth open, moaning when your tongues touched. His movements were hurried, hands running up your legs, firmly squeezing your thighs before pushing them apart so he could slip in between. He pressed his body flush against yours, groaning at the close contact, his lips unrelenting as they traveled down your jaw to your neck, kissing at your warm skin, sucking, biting.

He didn't know what it was, exactly. But it was dizzying, having you fully covered in his suit under him, a stark contrast to him on top of you half naked.

He knew one thing for sure, though.

Peter just wanted to devour you.

"You drive me insane," he growled, his hips bucking, earning a whimper from you, his mouth traveling back up to your lips so he could kiss you senseless.

"Shit, Pete, wait," you gasped, pushing at his chest, his lips disconnecting from yours with a soft pop.

He pushed himself up, resting on his forearms, both your chests heaving as he looked at you worriedly.

You bit your lip. "We can't."

"What now?" he groaned in utter frustration, all because he could see the pure mischief in your eyes, matching perfectly with your sly smirk. You were planning something, and Peter was running out of patience to try and figure it out.

"It's midnight," you said, obviously trying to stop your smile from growing.

"So…" Peter scoffed a laugh. "Does our sex life have a curfew now?"

"No," you giggled, nodding towards his digital alarm clock, one that showed the date. "Meaning, it's Novem—"

"Nope!" He shook his head fervently, going back to kissing your jaw, relishing the breathy moan you let out when he sucked the spot below your ear. "I do not hear anything."

"But it's no nu—"

"Nuh uh, nothing," he grumbled, firmly pressing his lips against yours. "Shush."

"But Pete—"

"Shut up," he groaned, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. "I swear if you say it I'm going to cry."

"A bit overdramatic," you giggled.

"You can't just wear this outfit and expect me to wait a whole month to do something about it," he said, lightly nipping at your jaw. "That's just cruel."

"So you already admit defeat?"

"Yes! Okay, fine! I don't fucking care, just—" he whined against your skin, hips instinctively rocking against yours. "Baby, please."

"Unzip me?"

You laughed when Peter scrambled off of you immediately, waiting in anticipation as you went to kneel in the middle of the bed, your back turned to him.

He hastily shuffled to you, grabbing the zip on your costume.

But despite all his impatience, he slowly undid it, just so he had the time to make sure that every new sliver of skin was given a sweet kiss the moment it was exposed.

He hooked his fingers on the material once it went slack, gradually pulling it off your shoulders. Peter leaned closer, ready to shower you with more loving kisses.

But then he saw it.

White lace under the red and blue tights.

His grip on you tightened, head dropping on your shoulder with a guttural groan.

"You are a fucking menace."

You giggled.

Peter would've mistaken the sound as sweet, innocent, if it weren't for the absolute devilry that danced in your eyes, a look of pure pride gracing your beautiful features as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

You knew what you were doing to him.

He watched with bated breath as you pulled the rest of the suit off your arms, pushing the fabric down until it rested just below your hips, exposing your top half. Then, you reached under the pillow, Peter catching a glimpse of something white and fluffy.

The air got knocked out of his lungs when you turned around to face him.

They were bunny ears.

You had fucking bunny ears on.

This should be illegal.

It was just criminal, pairing the lacy lingerie that barely covered anything with the suit that you already looked so fucking sexy in. The white practically jumped out against the red and blue, but somehow, it worked. Your bottom half was still covered in spandex, but he could see the hem of your lace panties peeking out, just enough to make him feel lightheaded.

You looked like Peter's sexual fantasies personified…but better.

So much better.

"Fuck, you're killing me," he groaned, body growing hot, and goddamn he'd never been so out of breath in his life. "You're so beautiful."

You sat on your knees in front of him, fixing up the ears before your fingers traveled down your neck, so obviously making a show out of it as your palms moved over your lace-adorned chest, tickling down your sides before you teasingly hooked your digits on the hem of your panties, toying with it.

He followed the path of your hands like a hawk, his own fingers twitching, whether desperate to touch you or to relieve himself, he honestly didn't know anymore. He was already too far gone by this point, just by looking at you.

Peter's eyes snapped back up to meet yours when you called his name.

He was just about to bust when you tilted your head sweetly, tongue wetting your lips as you blinked up at him all doe-eyed.

"Maybe Spider-Bunny wasn't such a bad idea," you hummed. "But we might have to change a few things."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Y-Yeah?"

God he was already so wrecked.

Instead of answering him, you shuffled to his bedside table, opening the drawer and rummaging around for something. Once you found it, you threw it at him without warning.

Peter caught it before he realized what it was.

Confusion with a hint of curiosity tickled his bones when his eyes landed on his own web shooters.

Looking back at you, his question died down his throat, heart picking up the pace as you settled in the middle of the bed, laying against the mattress with your head propped up on the pillow.

You grinned like the absolute devil that you are.

But he was so sure you'd given him a one-way ticket to heaven when you lifted your hands up, crossing at the wrist before you pressed them against the headboard. With a tone so seductively sweet, you said,

"I'm all yours, Spidey."

Peter had never webbed someone up so fast in his life.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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