#spider-man fanfic

[starlordsandrockets]

The Bet

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+ , fake dating

word count: 9k

summary: You find yourself in attendance of a Gala with Peter Parker as your (fake) date. The two of you end up making a bet: Peter tries to make you fall for him by the end of the night.

a/n: sorry, i found myself in the worst case of writer’s block i’ve had in awhile. ANYWAY, i hope this makes up for it

“All I’m saying is that you’re going to look ridiculous,” Tony spoke. The rim of an almost empty glass of whiskey sat against his smiling lips, “Even Nat’s bringing a date and you two are two sides of the same coin. I don’t see how you can’t put up with a man for just one night,” Your gaze made him choke on his drink slightly, “or, or a woman?” He questioned, unsure of the reason for your deadly glance.

“I-I could get a date,” You stuttered, bringing your own glass to your lips. You crossed your legs, the black dress sat tightly against your knees. A pair of equally dark heels sat on your feet. The shoe dangled off your elevated foot, “I just chose to go stag, more of my vibe, you know,” You laughed it off.

“You’re a real lone wolf,” Tony spoke, “Are those still called bitches? Or is that just dogs?”

“Fuck off,” You groaned, finishing off your glass, “I’ll find a guy at the gala, alright. Spare me,”

“No, spare me,” Tony spoke, placing a hand on his chest dramatically, “Stark bringing along a virgin of an intern. All brain and no game,” He almost slurred, “But I guess that modest dress makes you kind of sexy in a mysterious way,”

“Forgive me for not breaking out my little black dress,” You told him, “It’s a gala. At an art museum, it’s not like we’re going to some night club”

“Oh, we’re not?” Tony questioned, “Then why are you totally pregaming with me right now,” He poured you another glass of whiskey with a shit eating grin.

“It’s the only way I can deal with you,” You admit with a smile, “This way you get a little more tolerable,”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Tony spoke, raising another glass. However, his toast was cut short as someone caught his eyes, “Ah! Pete! Perfect, absolutely perfect,”

You turned your head, your loose, y/h/c waves twirling, “Come on, Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, a sigh passed through his lips as he noticed Tony’s buzzed state, “There’s still like, an hour ‘til we leave,”

“Yeah! Perfect, enough time for you to have a drink with us,” Tony smiled, walking towards Peter. He took hold of Peter’s arm, dragging him into the lounge.

Peter wore a black suit, nothing fancy besides the luxury brand Tony had paid for. His hair was gelled into place and it made you laugh to yourself, “What?” Peter questioned as he heard you almost giggle. A subtle blush sat on his freckled nose. A drink found a way into his hand as he stared at you, “Mr. Stark, you know I won’t feel a thing from this,”

“Humor me, kid,” Tony spoke, “Er- us,” He motioned towards you.

You were reclined on Tony’s expensive couch as you bounced the heel that sat loosely on your foot, “Please, I’m being held here against my will,” You spoke, making Peter smile. You extended your arm, placing it on the back of the couch. Stretching, you pinched your shoulder blades without a thought. However, Peter’s thoughts were racing, the position pushing out your chest, drawing all of Peter’s attention to you. He did not think you could consume any more of his thoughts than you already did, but here he was. Knocking back whatever liquid was in the glass Tony had given him, he swallowed it in hopes of also swallowing his dirty thoughts. As he expected, it did not work.

“Y/N needs a date tonight,” Tony spoke as you took a large sip, making you instantly choke. The action was not comical, like in the movies and books, but had you embarrassingly gasping for air and coughing up a lung, “As charming as she is in this very moment, do you think you could do me a favor and not let her show up like that,” Tony spoke, “She’s my intern and I’d hate to have her overshadowed by me, and Pepper, of course. So what better than my intern showing up with my totally-not-an-Avenger, and totally real intern,”

“Are you sure this isn’t another, against her will sort of situation?” Peter questioned as you continued to cough, physically unable to say no.

“She’s not objecting,” Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a drunken shake.

***

“After the carpet, I’m finding the drinks and leaving your ass,” You spoke, “I don’t care if people think I’m alone, okay.”

“Yeah… right,” Peter spoke as he sat next to you in the long limo. The two of you sat somewhat isolated from the others. The group was paired off and in their own world, leaving the two of you to realize just how alone you really were, “Me too, I wanted to come alone anyway,”

“Me too,” You added, repeating your previous claim. Your hand found the vodka cranberry that the limo’s bar provided, “I’ve always been alone,” You informed as you brought the glass to your lips, “Why start now,”

***

You felt your stomach turn as the camera flashed. You had yet to place a single one of your black heels on the red carpet of the gala and you instantly regretted the drinks you downed to calm your nerves, “Hell no,”

“You’ll be fine,” Peter spoke, “They probably won’t even bother us if Mr. Stark’s around, not to mention everyone else,” He spoke, “Literally everyone but us,”

“That makes me feel so much better,” You almost laughed, “Thanks,” Your word was blunt. You were used to being in others' shadows. You rushed before Peter, wanting to spend the night the way you were used to: alone.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, unsure how he had upset you. 

Since Peter could remember, you had always been standoffish, never reaching out for company at the compound. Always shutting yourself off in the lab, you would get your work done and leave if it was not too late of a drive. You would crash on the couch whenever Tony refused to let you leave after 1am. Tony never wanted to feel guilt of you overworking yourself in the lab only for you to fall asleep at the wheel on your drive home.

Peter recalled the sight of you sprawled out on the lounge’s large couch, a blanket tossed over you as it barely covered your exposed skin. Peter could not help falling for you after he caught that sight more than a few times. He had helped you through a few too many drinks, holding your hair as you emptied your night into Stark’s million dollar toilet. Peter was unsure if you remembered nights like that.

Peter knocked into you, bringing him back to reality as you stood frozen in front of the flashing cameras, “You’re Tony Stark’s intern, aren’t you?” Someone from the crowd questioned, voice booming over the other shouts, “Is it true you work on the Avenger’s upgrades?” The man asked.

“Y/N calls all the shots for Avengers’ upgrades,” Peter spoke next to you. Your head spun, not only from the attention, but towards Peter, “I- They’d be lost without her,”

He was not wrong. You fixed nearly all the flaws you found in Spider-Man’s suit. They were only flaws due to Peter’s way of thinking. Tony had designed the AI with himself in mind and not Peter, “Smile,” Peter whispered in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. You could barely see, the white flashes blinding you. Reaching out, Peter placed his hand on the small of your back. Your lips parted, about to snap a sarcastic remark at Peter’s advancement, however, you felt his clammy hold through your dress’s thin fabric, making you smile.

***

“So,” You said, “You’d be lost without me?” Your question teased Peter as the two of you finally made your way into the gala’s main room.

“I can admit it,” Peter spoke, “I don’t have some weird complex like you, or Mr. Stark,”

“Don’t compare me to Tony,” You told him, still a little buzzed from not only the alcohol in your system but also the camera flashes, “God, if I get that bad kill me,”

“If you didn’t fix my suit, I might have by accident,” Peter admitted. He had eventually gotten the hang of his suit’s AI, however the changes you had made allowed him to fully master his potential, “but, yeah,” His words were smooth, “I would be lost without you, honestly,”

“Including now?” You questioned, now realizing you did not wish to face the night alone. Especially now that you have seen the amount of older men that would surely harass you if you found yourself alone, “so, leaving you behind would be a terrible idea,”

“Absolutely terrible,” Peter played along, a smile threatening to curl his lips. He knew your games and when you were hiding your true emotions, “I’m not sure if I could make it through this boring gala by myself. You’d be doing me a huge favor,”

“Yeah?” You questioned, “Then you owe me,” Your eyes searched for any amount of food you could ingest before you had more drinks to get you through the night.

“How is that fair?” Peter laughed, however, he had not made it known that he knew the facade you were putting up, “You know what, fine,” He gave in, “I owe you, whatever you ask,” As soon as the words left his lips he caught you smile, “No, no, no,” He rambled as he heard you laugh.

“Oh you can’t take it back,” You laughed, “This is going to be fun,” Peter followed you at your heels as you searched the huge gallery for food or drinks, “Maybe I’ll hold this over your head for a while,”

“Y/N,” Peter groaned, meeting your eyes. His regret faded as soon as he saw your smiling eyes and grinning lips. He was just glad that you were having a good time.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Your name was called out, attracting your attention as well as Peter’s to a man who seemed to be in his late thirties. He was cute. Peter must have read your mind, or maybe caught on to your swooning gaze, as his hand found the small of your back once again, “Pardon my interruption,” the man questioned Peter’s touch.

“No interruption,” You spoke, stepping out of Peter’s warm touch, “Just simply company, to get me through the night,” Peter stiffened at your words but your back faced him, unable to see the consequence of your claim, “Y/N Y/L/N,” You spoke, extending your hand.

The man smiled at Peter’s misfortune, “I’m glad to have caught you, I’m the gallery’s director,” He watched as your eyes lit up for a moment, “Phil Weston,” Phil introduced, “I was wondering if we could rent some of your work. Give you your own exhibition,” He watched as you stumbled over your thoughts before him, “Or should I be going through your assistant here?” He motioned towards Peter, “That’s what you are right?” He almost degraded.

“I’m a little more than that,” Peter spoke, unable to shine light on just how important he truly is. But you knew, he was sure you would back him up.

“Sure,” Phil spoke, “Well, Y/N,” Turning, he retrieved a tall glass from a woman who appeared behind him mid conversation. The glass of champagne made its way into your hand, your rings knocking against the thin glass. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small card, “Here’s my card,”

“Thanks Weston,” You smiled around the glass. Sticking the card between your two fingers, you flashed it to Peter, “Keep this safe for me,” You jokingly instructed, “assistant,” You heard Phil laugh as he departed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter spoke, not taking the card out of your grasp. The dark paper still waved in front of his face.

“Me?” You questioned with a bat of your lashes, with a smile you took a large sip of your drink.

“I know we’re playing a part here,” Peter spoke, “but you’re just standing there while that guy humiliates me,”

“I’m not playing a part,” You told Peter, “I call the shots, remember. And you owe me, I could have said something but then you’d owe me even more,” Alcohol coated your words as you studied the Avenger. A laugh bubbled between your lips as you began to tuck the business card into the small purse that sat at your side, “Forget it, Parker,” You informed, finishing off your champagne, “just help me find something else to drink,”

“I think you should eat something,” Peter spoke. Watching you walk away from him he reached out, taking hold of your wrist, “I mean, with how much you’ve been drinking,”

“Are you worried about me?” You asked with a sly smile, “I know you’re my fake date, but you don’t have to act like it,” Your eyes found a large table ordained with finger foods and drinks, “but I’ll humor you,”

“I just don’t want you finding yourself doing something you regret,” Peter spoke, thinking of Phil. He knew that you had more confidence when you drink. Hell, he hated it. You flirted with Peter almost every time you had one too many but in the morning the two of you could be mistaken as strangers, “Or make a complete fool of yourself,”

“That so?” You questioned as the two of you crossed the tiled floor of the museum.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Peter spoke from where he followed at your heels, “Little do you know, I have a decent amount of blackmail on half the compound. Sure it sucks that I can’t get drunk like the rest of you but, not going to lie, I think I have more fun watching you all make fools of yourselves,”

“What are you, a masochist?” You tease as you turn to him, drink in hand. You caught Peter’s stern glance, “Right, right,” You raised your free hand, retrieving a small sandwich, “See, food,” You stuffed the sandwich between your red lips, “Yum,” You spoke sarcastically, mouth full of food.

“How’d I land such a classy date?” Peter questioned, taking a drink from the table. He knew the alcohol would not affect his system but he did not want to look out of place.

“You wish you could land me,” You washed your food down with a large sip of wine.

“Ouch,” Peter spoke around his wine glass. He was unsure if he was just experiencing placebo from the wine but found himself speaking with newfound confidence, “I could land you… if I wanted,”

“Yeah?” You laughed, “I’d like to see that,” You admitted. You would be lying if you said you did not find Peter attractive. You have seen him at work, in the gym, you have seen him change in and out of his suit right in front of you. Peter might have not known but each time, you glanced at his toned body and mentally drooled. You would not mind if Peter pursued you, you just knew better. Peter was awkward and did not show much interest in you until tonight. He was just doing you a favor, keeping you company. He never spoke to you in the compound besides when he needed to, or when he said hello whenever the two of you passed each other in the large building, “But I know better,” You smiled, “know you better,”

“You think I won’t?” Peter questioned, watching you shrug your bare shoulders. He watched as another glass found its way into your hand, making his job a lot easier. You were a horny drunk and he was about to use that to his favor.

“Are you betting me?” You questioned almost excitedly, “Is this a bet? Please tell me you’re giving me another thing to hold over your head,”

“Sure, it’s a bet,” Peter spoke, taking another sip of wine, “But you have to be completely honest with me. No burying your feelings for me,” He informed, “Any time I ask, you have to tell me exactly how you feel,”

You almost gagged, but Peter was right, you should play fair, “Fine,” You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself begin to sway, “When’s the game start?”

“Right now,” Peter spoke, finishing off what was in his glass. Setting it down, he took yours from your grasp watching you shoot him an angry glance, “and you need to start off by telling me exactly how you feel about me,” His words were smooth, somehow forgetting that he normally had to build up the courage to just say hello to you but in this moment he was closing the space between the two of you, “I want to know what kind of a chance I even have,”

“I don’t think you have to work too hard,” You smiled, your lips beginning to numb. You stared up at Peter. Your eyes were able to count almost every freckle on his boyish face and god did you want to kiss them. Kiss him, even, “I’m kind of drunk,”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I figured that much Y/N,” He whispered as if it was a secret.

“And it’s making you look cuter,” You whispered back, watching your words shoot through his heart like an arrow, freezing him in his tracks, “Even cuter than before,”

“Good to know,” Peter muttered to himself as he watched you take the wine glass back from his hand, your fingers brushing against his clammy hand.

***

“How’s the lone wolf holding up,” Tony questioned as he had excused himself from a conversation Pepper found herself in; checking in on you and Peter, but mostly you. Tony’s eyes followed you as you swayed, Peter’s hand supporting your lower back, “I see you’re holding her up,” He motioned towards Peter as you took another sip of wine, “How much has she had,”

“I lost count, but you know her,” Peter spoke, “She’s almost as bad as you,” He somewhat joked, watching Tony smile.

“I’m fiiiinne,” Your voice drew out, “I’m just bored, so I’m drinking. Sue me,” You groaned, turning to Peter, you studied him and how close he stood next to you, “Can we go dance,”

Peter’s eyes widened as he met Tony’s gaze. Tony sent him a suggestive gaze, “Yeah Pete,” He smirked, “You two should go dance, that’d be a much easier way to hold her up,”

“Pleaase,” You almost begged, “I can’t drink if I’m dancing,” You set your glass down, throwing up your hands in your defense.

“I guess that’s true,” Peter agreed, “Excuse us,” He spoke to Tony who sent him a lovey-dovey look, “Mr. Stark, please,” He muttered, leading you away from Tony and to the gala’s live string quartet.

“I love the violin,” You drunkenly gushed, “I’ve always wanted to play,” You twirled out of Peter’s hold as you entered the floor, bumping into a couple who slowly swayed to the sound. A laugh bubbled from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” Peter spoke, “Sweetheart, be careful,” He played along with your roles for the night.

“Hm, sweetheart?” You questioned as his hands fell against the fabric of your dress, “Out of all the pet names, you pick sweetheart?”

“What? You want me to call you dear? Like we’re sixty and unhappy,” Peter’s claim made you laugh, “I know better than to call you baby,” He spoke quietly, watching your nose wrinkle, “That’s what I thought,”

“It’s just so formal,” You teased, “I thought the gala was formal enough, but sweetheart? I’m swooning, darling,”

“Ah, darling,” Peter spoke as you brought a new pet name to light, “I still think sweetheart fits you,” The two of you moved in sync without a second thought as your conversation could barely be heard over the romantic strings.

“I know,” You smiled, “I’m a delight, the sweetest at the compound,” You played along.

“No,” Peter continued, “I think that’s Mr. Stark. But you’re a close second,” He spun you in his hold. His eyes studied you as you twirled before him, your hair bouncing as you smiled, a laugh falling between your lips. Your red lipstick no longer sat evenly on your skin from the amount of drink you had. Peter wondered if he should tell you, wondering if you wished to reapply the seductive red shade, however his eyes took you in instead, “You’re pretty,” The words slipped almost silently past his lips.

In an attempt to cover his claim, Peter pulled you back in, making your head spin. His action was quick, or so you thought, maybe you were just drunk, “Did you- did you just?” You stuttered, somehow his quiet claim made your heart flutter slightly. Peter’s dominant hand left the small of your back as it found its way to the side of your neck.

“How do you feel about me right now?” Peter questioned, it took everything in him to hold your eye contact, his body begging his gaze to fall to the necklace that sat against your skin.

You stared into his brown eyes, his gaze reflected sickly sweet puppy love back into your lone glance, “You called me pretty,” Was all you managed to speak, lost in Peter’s imploring gaze.

“Yeah… yeah I did. And how’d that make you feel?” Peter questioned, “Do you like it when I call you pretty?” He was no longer hesitant, realizing you probably will not remember most of the night, in the morning. Peter stared at your stunned expression, taken aback by his words, “You’re not saying no,”

“I’m just-“ You stuttered. The room twirled and you were unsure if it was from your moving feet or Peter’s sweet words. Returning to Peter’s hold, your hand fell to his chest defensively.

“I-I didn’t think you could get any prettier,” Peter spoke, words intertwining with the playing strings. Clearing his throat, he attempted to recover from his stuttered claim. Although he we determined to win your bet, you always managed to make him nervous, “Your hair looks nice curled and your eyes,” Peter rambled, “Your eyes are somehow making me more nervous than usual,” Your gaze was soft and intent, “and your dress,”

“Spare me,” You spoke, “Tony already gave me shit,” Your fingers fell from the fabric of Peter’s suit, touch trailing. Hand falling, it smoothed over the curve of your hip, “I guess I should have gone shorter,” Your eyes found a handful of women in short dresses.

“No-” His voice was almost desperate, “no- I mean. I like this dress,” He watched you raise your brows, eyes narrowing. Peter pulled you closer to him, building up the courage to express his next claim, “I’d rather think about what’s under it,” His voice was somehow smooth, “rather than seeing you in a short dress,”

“Y-Yeah?” You questioned, looking up at Peter’s blushed complexion. You felt your system warm, the alcohol still having an effect over you, “Want to see what’s under it?”

“W-What?” Peter questioned, his dancing pace slowing, “Y/N,” He laughed nervously. You were doing it again, being a horny drunk, “You’re drunk,”

“And you’re winning,” You admitted, “as much as I hate to say it,” The two of you stood on the dancefloor as the others danced around you. Your hands found their way to Peter’s chest, snaking up to his neck until your fingertips brushed against his warm cheeks, “You’re hot,”

“Y/N,” Peter spoke your name, as if he was trying to make sure that all of this was not a dream.

“Bathroom,” You interrupted.

“What?” Peter questioned, wondering if he heard you correctly, “Bathroom?” He watched you nod, feeling nerves rush through him, thinking all that alcohol finally caught up to you, “Yeah- yeah okay,” He helped you navigate your way off the dancefloor.

“Slow down,” You spoke, a little out of breath from keeping up with Peter’s gate in your heels.

Peter felt your fingers tickle against his skin, not realizing he had grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowds. He felt his confidence begin to crumble as he grew further and further away from the crowd.

The two of you traveled down the museum’s large stairs to the lower galleries and bathrooms. You felt the room begin to spin as you attempted to navigate the large concrete steps, “Shit,” You laughed, “These stairs are going to kick my ass,”

“Here,” Peter spoke, his hand fell from your hold. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around you.

His hold steadied you but equally weakened your knees. Peter’s fingers dug into your shoulder as you looked towards him.

“What?” Peter questioned. Your gate slowed as you studied his face. You never thought he could get more handsome, but here he was helping you down a large staircase like you were some princess in a giant castle. 

Did that make him the prince? Of course it did.

“I’m fucked,” You laughed, your claim was under your breath, however Peter’s hearing still picked up on it.

The claim, unknown to him, was because you found yourself falling even harder for him; however, he thought you were about to get sick. Slipping his free hand behind your knees, he easily scooped you up, literally sweeping you off your feet.

“What are you-“ You felt your face heat up at the sudden advancement, “What if someone sees- there’s cameras-“

Peter did not respond, he was far too focused on getting you to the bathroom. The remaining flight of stairs passed quickly under his shiny black shoes. Turning the stair’s corner, he brought you to the bathroom door that was tucked under the concrete stairs.

“What-What was that?” You questioned, hands gripping Peter’s shoulder, while the other found his hand that gripped underneath your thigh.

“I- What? What do you mean?” Peter questioned right back, “I thought you had too much to drink,”

“I just wanted to freshen up,” You stared back at him, realizing just how close the two of you were.

“Oh,” Peter spoke, embarrassment reddened his ears as he stared right back at you. Walking towards the wall, he pressed your open back against the concrete wall.

“Pete-“ You vocalized as the cold wall touched your heated skin. Your back arched away and towards him in his hold. Realizing your tone, your gaze fell to the floor.

Peter watched as your chest rose and fell heavily in front of him. The skin of your chest was peaking out with each intake, and it silently begged for his lips. He wanted to kiss you- well, he wanted to kiss you every moment he spent with you- but especially in this moment. Rounding his shoulders he brought his face in front of your downturned gaze. He grew closer and closer with each passing moment, eyes fixed on your own. He breathed a shaken breath, palms growing sweating as he inched closer to your lips.

Like ripping off a bandage, Peter was quick and rough. His lips pressed against yours, pushing you against the museum’s wall. You groaned against him in response to the impact, before kissing him back slightly. However, before you could fully reciprocate, you heard a pair of heels descending the stairs.

“Peter-” You stuttered against his lips, hands pushing against his chest. You buried yourself further into the wall in an attempt to escape his advancement, “Get- Let go-” You watched as your words finally registered in Peter’s brain, his hands dropping you to the floor. You struggled to keep your balance in your black heels. Without a thought, you turned and rushed off into the bathroom.

You placed your hands on the porcelain sink as you stared at yourself in the mirror. If you were not wearing makeup you would have probably splashed your face with cold water, or hell, you would have even slapped some sense into yourself. Suddenly the sound of the bathroom door made you stand up straight. You did not dare to turn your head, to check if it was Peter. You watched as a woman, a little older than you, smiled at you through the mirror. You gave her a weak smile in return, head still spinning in response to the kiss.

You needed to pull yourself together. You were slipping right into Peter’s grasp, not that it was a bad thing, you were just way too competitive. You wanted to win. Opening your small purse, you removed your lipstick. As you applied the shade to your lips, you were far too lost in thought. Staring back at yourself, you were surprised to see that you had mindlessly applied the satin formula.

The woman who had made her way into the bathroom now stood next to you at the sinks. You rubbed your lips together, blending the color evenly, “Having a good night?” You questioned her, preparing yourself for any conversation you would have with Peter.

“Oh yes,” She smiled, washing her hands gingerly, not wanting to bump her diamond bracelets against the porcelain, “I’m sorry for asking- you probably hear this a lot but, what is it like working for Tony Stark?”

**

Peter rocked up and down on his expensive dress shoes. You were taking fairly long. Peter had already calmed himself down in the men’s room after your heated kiss. But now, he knew he would have had time to relieve himself instead. What was wrong with him? It would not have been the first time he had touched himself to the thought of you, but it still felt wrong.

He kicked at the concrete floor, frustrated that your kiss was interrupted so quickly. Suddenly, Peter was pulled out of his thoughts as you exited the bathroom with the woman. You laughed beside her as you locked eyes with Peter, “It was a pleasure talking to you, Y/N,” The woman smiled, lightly setting a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry for keeping her,” She spoke to Peter.

Peter nodded out of courtesy as the two of you watched her climb the large stairs, “What was that about?” Peter questioned, taken aback by the sound of his own voice.

“Oh,” You spoke almost too casually, “She was asking me about Tony. Wanted to know what he’s like outside of the public eye, you know?”

“Yeah?” Peter laughed slightly, “I can imagine you only said nice things,” He joked, knowing how you and Tony bicker, “Obviously,”

“Oh of course,” You joked back. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. You watched Peter laugh beside you, leaning into you, and that is when you remembered the kiss. You must have visibly stiffened because it caused Peter to freeze as well.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, watching you hesitate to meet his eyes.

You wanted to touch him, pull him against you and into the kiss that was so rudely interrupted. You wanted him to fill your free time, to watch his eyes squint whenever he smiled at your crude, dry humor, “You win,”

“What?” Peter questioned, laughing slightly. Then it registered, the smile faded on his lips and a slight red flush occupied his ears and cheeks, “Oh,”

“Yeah,” You nodded slowly, “It pains me to say it, but,” You groaned, “God I hate this,” You felt Peter’s fingers tickle the skin of your wrist. Your gaze flashed to the skin on skin contact and then the bathroom door.

“What?” Peter questioned again.

“Peter,” You motioned towards the door with your eyes.

“W-Wha- No! Y/N,” Peter stuttered, “No,” His voice was assertive as you almost pouted in front of him.

You bounced on your feet, silently pleading with him. He stood his ground, “Fine. But maybe I’ll change my mind later,”

“I don’t think you will,” Peter spoke, watching you physically wither, “Come on,” He took your hand and began to lead you up the staircase. You reluctantly followed at his heels, dreading what was to come next.

***

You have made it through three separate conversations with complete strangers, all while Peter’s hand rested on the small of your back. To make matters worse, you now locked eyes with Tony. The fake smile that once parted your lips completely faded in his presence, “The kid still needs to be holding you up?” Tony teased as you gave Pepper a genuine smile.

“Pepper, I don’t know how you put up with him,” You spoke, “Sadly I’m sober,” Tony raised a brow at your statement, watching Peter’s hand return to his side.

“I’m surprised she didn’t bite your hand off,” Tony smiled as a woman approached your group with a tray of champagne, “Thank you,” He spoke to her before he passed the group glasses. He brought his lips around the rim of the thin glass, “You starting to warm up to my intern?”

“He’s tolerable company,” You smiled back, taking a large sip of champagne, “Couldn’t say the same about you though,” The tension between you and Tony hung in the air as Peter and Pepper both apologized to each other silently.

“Why don’t we get some air,” Peter suggested, hand returning back to you. He watched you finishing what remained in your glass before giving him a pressed smile.

“Sure,” You nodded, “Nice seeing you Pepper,” Your eyes did not dare fall over to Tony. You watched his hold tighten on Pepper as Peter’s did the same to you.

The two of you made your way towards a secluded exit, avoiding the paparazzi that waited for everyone outside, “Can’t you just play nice for a night?” Peter questioned after your long silence.

“It’s not like- He does that shit on purpose,” You spoke, motioning back towards the door you found yourself outside, “He always has something to say- something to get under my skin. And it’s not like you stepped in and told him to stop,”

“I like seeing you all worked up,” Peter spoke, not realizing how his claim sounded until it passed through his lips. You looked up at him, “Not- Not in a weird way- Well-“ He stuttered. Peter did like it in a weird way. He liked seeing you flustered.

You watched Peter stumble over his words, his gaze falling off of you, “Mm,” You hummed, your tone was teasing.

“I said not in a weird way,” Peter spoke, watching you lean into his, studying his blushed skin, “Y/N,”

“How then?” You questioned, “I’m dying to know,” Bringing your fingertips to a hair that hung against his forehead, pushing it back into his gelled hair, “Your hair looks so dumb,” You teased.

Taking your wrist, he brought you around the building’s corner, out of sight from anyone who would exit the door. He listened to your mumbled complaints before he took hold of both of your arms. Peter pushed you against the concrete building. The cool surface made you hiss before Peter’s hands snaked up your arms to your face. He cupped your cheeks roughly as he brought his lips to yours for a second time.

And you were so glad he did.

Your hands found his black tie, tugging on it. You loosened the fabric, feeling Peter sigh out of relief. You do not know why you started undressing him, but now your fingers fumbled against his white shirt’s small buttons, “Hey, hey,” He almost laughed against your lips, “Slow down,”

“I just want to touch you,” You admitted, pushing aside the white fabric, studying the soft skin of his neck and chest.

“I thought you loved Prada,” Peter joked. He watched you study the suit. Your eyes scanned his body before falling right back to his skin. Little did you know, Peter had asked Tony specifically for a Prada suit after he heard you obsessing over their latest campaign.

“I-I do.” You spoke, “But… I told you- You win,” Your hands held both sides of his shirt’s collar, “Swing me somewhere,”

Peter watched as you pulled yourself closer, your eyes studying his lips. He was clearly an idiot, not acting on impulse. Peter had wanted you for so long, and he hated how this was all happening now, “I, I don’t have my suit on me,” He rambled, watching you pout in front of him. Words mumbled past your lips as you tried to protest, “It’s not like I can just swing you off as Peter Parker, Y/N, I’m an intern tonight. Right? So I can’t just swing you through the city to do whatever I want to you,”

The words fell from Peter’s lips, making yours curl into a subtle smile, “What would you do?”

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you lean back against the building.

“You’d do whatever you wanted to me?” You repeated, “What would you do to me?” Peter stood, disheveled in front of you. His once pressed and buttoned shirt was wrinkled by your hands.

Peter took a step back from you, “Please,” He mumbled, fixing the collar of his shirt. Your eyes studied him before wandering, “What?”

That is when you spotted Tony’s empty limo.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice warned as you took hold of his wrist.

“Please?” You questioned, dragging him towards the parked limo.

“Someone will see,” Peter argued back, however, he still allowed you to drag him into the lot of limos and cars.

“Yeah, in a self driving, tinted, bomb and bullet proof limo,” Your words were sarcastic and the two of you neared the limo, “Friday,” You spoke, reaching out to the limo’s hidden keyboard.

“Y/N,” The system responded, “How may I be of service?”

“Unlock the limo please,” Your hand slipped from Peter’s wrist to his sweating palm.

“Mr. Stark has installed a security protocol for you entering the limo,” Friday explained, making you scoff, “The question is: Who is the world’s greatest boss?”

Your lips pressed into a line as you dreaded answering the question, “Tony Stark,”

“Incorrect,” Friday spoke, making you groan out loud.

Your hold on Peter’s hand tightened, “He made me say it and then- and then he just made the answer some bullshit I won’t figure out-“ You felt Peter’s fingers slip between your own, calming you for a moment, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, Friday,” Peter spoke, “Hey. It’s- It’s me, Peter,”

“Hello Peter,” Friday spoke.

“Yeah, h-hi. Would you be able to let us in please?”

“Of course, Peter,” The two of you watched as the limo door opened.

Turning towards you, Peter studied your annoyed expression, “Still want to go in?” He questioned with sweaty palms.

“I’m not letting Tony kill the mood,” You scoffed, bending your shoulders in order to enter the low limo, “I bet he planned this,”

Peter followed you, listening to your mumbled complaints, “Friday, could you go offline? Please?”

”Of course Peter,” The system spoke, “All audio and video recording will be offline until further instructions,” You whipped your head towards Peter, pampered hair twirling slightly, “Uh- Unless you don’t want to do anything anymore,”. He felt his heart rate begin to accelerate as you crawled towards him on the leather seat.

“I thought there was so much you wanted to do to me,” You teased, watching Peter’s shoulders stiffen slightly, “Unless you don’t,”

“I do,” Peter spoke at an embarrassing rate, “I mean… yes,” His words slowed as he studied the fabric of your dress. His gaze trailed over the dark fabric until it found your neckline, the fabric dripping as you leaned in front of him. Peter quickly brought his eyes to yours, not knowing which sight made him more nervous.

“Okay,” You responded. Picking up your knee, you brought it over Peter’s legs. You slowly lowered onto his lap, “This okay?” You felt as if your heart could pound out of your chest.

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled nervously. Your actions were killing him and he did not know if he would be able to hold back. Peter felt the weight of you on his lap, hoping you would not feel just how hard you were making him. Bringing his hands to your thighs, he pushed past the soft fabric of your dress. The fabric pooled around his wrist as his hands trailed up your legs, “shit,”

“Peter,” His name fell quietly past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest, fingertips on his collarbones. You heard him hum in response to his name, “What- What are you going to do?” You attempted to keep up the act, however, being this close to Peter was making you crumble.

“R-Right,” Peter breathed out, feeling his lungs shake as he took in a sharp breath. He studied the skin of your neck as you stared at him. Peter closed the space between the two of you, lips finding the skin he had been studying. His kisses varied, some soft yet some hungry. Peter’s lips parted, his kisses becoming more sloppy as his fingers dug into your plush skin coaxing a whimper from your lips.

The limo air hung heavy with every heated kiss and breath the two of you exchanged. Bringing your hand to Peter’s head, your fingers took hold of his hair. You pulled him away from your neck before you brought your lips to his. Your kisses were equally as hungry and making up for lost time. Hands still exploring his hair, you raked through the gel that held it in place. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you messed with Peter’s gelled hair. A slight smile curled on your lips as you kissed him, “What?” Peter questioned, lips not even an inch away from yours. His eyes studied your smile, teeth appearing between your lips.

“Your hair,” You spoke, leaning back to study it, “Did Tony tell you to wear it like that?”

“N-No,” Peter replied, “I always put gel in. I just used more this time,”

“Yeah well,” You played with a piece of hair that hung out of place, “I like it better like this,”

“Yeah?” Peter smiled.

“Mhm,” You hummed, fingers running through his locks.

“Then I guess I’ll have you do my hair for the next gala,” Peter added.

“Okay,” You answered quietly, eyes now falling to his lips.

“Alright,” Peter smiled, leaning back into you. His lips found yours once more, finding the rhythm the two of you previously shared. 

Peter had no idea how he ever survived this long without kissing you. The feeling of your body and lips pressed against him was enough to drive him insane. He melted against you, fully giving into you. His touch continued to trail up your skin, fingers now tracing the curve of your hips and waist, “Y/N,” Peter breathed out, “Are we doing this? Because I feel like I’m losing my mind-“

“Y-Yeah,” You stuttered, coming back to reality, “We better hurry before Tony realizes we’re gone,” You watched as Peter’s brows furrowed for a moment, “What?”

“I want to take my time with you,” He admitted, “I’m not really a quickie kind of guy,”

“Quickie? What are you, a teenager?” You teased slightly, “You can have me when we get back to the compound,” Peter’s gaze fell from your eyes to the tinted window out of embarrassment, “Yeah? Sound fair?”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, hands leaving your waist and falling onto the fabric of his dress pants. The sound of his zipper made you realize that you were actually about to fuck him and none of this was a dream, “Let’s make this quick then,”

You brought your lips to his in a rough kiss, pushing Peter’s back fully against the limo’s seat. You raised yourself off of Peter’s lap, allowing him to push the fabric of his pants down his thighs. Suddenly, you felt Peter’s finger push your underwear aside, finger running through your wet folds. This caught you off guard, making you jump, body freezing against him.

“You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed, “How long have you been like this?”

“The Prada got me pretty quick,” You admitted slightly.

“Yeah?” Peter smiled, “It wasn’t the fake dating?”

“S-Shut up,” You stuttered as Peter’s touch returned for another swift motion between your legs, “We d-don’t have time for this,” You spoke, hoping Peter’s teasing would cease as embarrassment flooded your cheeks.

“Right, no foreplay,” Peter spoke, “Not that you seem to need it right now,” He teased, watching your brows furrow, “Right, right,” Peter spoke, pulling a condom out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“You, you brought a condom?” You stared at the foil in disbelief, for some reason Peter’s action stirred the butterflies that sat in your stomach.

“Y-Yeah,” Peter admitted, “I have one on me if I ever think I have a chance with you… and also when I don’t,” Opening the condom, he attempted to distract himself from your quiet laughter above him.

The laughter continued to bubble past your lips. You were not laughing at Peter, but at how stupid you were for waiting this long to act on your feelings. Somewhere between your laughs, Peter had rolled the condom down the length of his dick.

“What?” Peter questioned your laughter as he pushed the fabric of your underwear aside.

“N-Nothing,” You stuttered, catching your breath from your laughs, “I just- I feel like I don’t deserve you,”

Reaching out, Peter covered your mouth. He somehow felt himself grow even harder as the claim left your lips. His dick bounced, attracting your gaze. You felt your face heat up as you took in the sight before you.

Removing his large hand, Peter caught you in a heated kiss. It was a kiss by definition, however it was sloppy and hungry with barely any rhythm to it. As you lost yourself in decoding it, Peter had lined himself up underneath you and began to enter you.

“S-Shit,” Peter stuttered at how tight you sat around his dick. You were so wet for him and he entered you easily, “fuck,”

“P-Peter,” You returned his stuttering, his name falling past your lips as you felt the size of him, “God- shit, you’re big,”

“Right,” Peter laughed as you gave him the classic, cliche line. But he was big and you were not sure if you could thank the spider bite for that or not. 

However, as the single thought crossed your mind, it soon left as Peter began to bounce you above him, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, “Ffffuck,” You moaned from the pressure of Peter’s hands combined with the rhythm he started.

“God you sound so pretty,” Peter groaned as his head tilted back against the seat’s headrest. Your hands, once bunching the fabric of his dress shirt, now traveled to his collar. Your fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt, hungry for the sight of his soft skin.

As soon as the skin of his chest was visible, your shoulders rounded and lips attached to his collarbone. His skin passed your lips as your teeth marked him, earning a moan from his parted lips.

“Y/N-“ The pain from your mark making only made Peter thrust into you harder and faster, “shit,”

Your hands fell to either side of Peter’s head, holding onto the seat as Peter fucked you. Peter was still holding back, but at this strength, you were still going to be hurting in the morning. You bit into the skin of his shoulder, trying to suppress your moans that only grew louder; screams threatening to replace them, “P-Peter-“ You somehow attempted to speak his name.

“I-I,” Peter almost stuttered, “hate to say it but I’m really close,” He watched as you pulled your face out from his neck, now studying him. He was falling apart below you, everything about you making him weak. Somehow, he felt as if he was becoming weaker just at the sight of you, “Y/N,”

Peter looked as if he was holding on for you, brows furrowed as his teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip. As you studied his lips, you decided to bring yours to his jaw, showering him in kisses. Some were sloppy and some were rougher than others as you attempted to help Peter over the edge he was holding onto, “Want you to cum,” You whispered against his skin, “Cum for me. Please?”

“S-Shit,” Peter breathed out. The curse rang with a slight laugh as you relieved him. With a few more rough thrusts, Peter filled the condom that was deep inside of you, “I-I wanted to last longer,” He informed, however his claim was cut short by your lips finding his own.

“Later,” You reminded him, “If you still want to-“

“I do-“ Peter interrupted. Clearing his throat at his desperation, he spoke again, “Yeah, yeah I’d like that,”

“Yeah,” You smiled, “I’d like that too,” You studied him as you still sat on his lap. However, that is when you remembered where you two were, “Shit-“ You raised yourself off of his lap. A shutter traveled through you as Peter quickly exited you.

“W-What?” Peter questioned awkwardly as the filled condom fell against the fabric of his shirt. Pulling it off of his dick, he tied it off before tossing it in the limo’s trash.

“How long has it been?” You questioned, nervousness rushing through you at the thought of the gala being over.

Your question made Peter’s shoulders round, wishing the limo’s seat would engulf him, “Was… was I that bad?”

“What?” You questioned as you collected yourself, looking out of the limo’s tinted window, “Wh- No- No. I-I meant how long have we been in here,” 

“Oh,” Peter spoke, attempting to make himself look presentable as well, “We should get back to the gala, “Hey- hey Friday, could you come back online please,”

“Of course Peter,” The system spoke as you placed your hand on the limo’s handle.

“W-Wait- hold on I’m almost-” Peter spoke but his claim was interrupted by your low voice.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get out at the same time… in case anyone sees,” Your words were cautious as if you were dancing around an insult, “Anyone being like the media… or-”

“Or Phil?” Peter questioned quite quickly.

“You know what I mean,” You spoke back defensively, “We don’t need any attention drawn towards you or a Stark controversy,”

“I know,” Peter responded, however you were already halfway out of the limo’s door.

Stepping into the cool night air, you took in a sharp breath. You did not mean to hurt Peter’s feelings, but it was just second nature to you. You always said the wrong things and somehow found yourself in arguments, but Peter was the last person you wanted to upset.

“Needed to cool off?” You heard Tony’s voice call out.

“Not now,” You groaned, however you dropped the attitude as you saw the rest of the group not too far behind him, “Party’s over?”

“Yeah you missed it. Where’s Pete? Was he holding your hair after all those drinks?” Tony asked, eyes scanning for Peter. You walked back towards the limo, hoping to warn Peter of the group’s presence before they could catch up. Opening the door you stuck your head into the vehicle, “I’m surprised Friday even let you in there,” Tony spoke as he approached you from behind. He waited for a remark from you. After all, he programmed the question just to mention you, however you were silent. Sticking his head in, he caught the last glimpse of what exactly was going on in his limo.

You pushed Peter away, who as soon as you entered the limo had caught you in a quite passionate kiss, “Not- not now-“

“Do I even want to sit in this limo?” Tony’s voice questioned, making you jump away from Peter’s hold. You sat down, putting a seat between the two of you, “My limo, may I add. God, I don’t even want to think about what you two did in here. And where you did it”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, the group’s presence unknown to him after he stopped you in your tracks as you entered the limo to warn him, “We didn’t…”

“Yeah Pete, real convincing,” Tony looked around as he climbed into the limo,  calculating where the safest place to sit might be, “Could you please just let me know if I’m about to sit in the splash zone or something,”

“I…I swear to fucking god,” You groaned, fingers now rubbing circles into your temples, “Can we all just get in and leave?”

“Why?” Tony questioned, attempting to hold eye contact with you as the rest of the Avengers piled into the limo, “Is there just something you’re dying to finish when we get back?”

“If something did happen tonight, shouldn’t you be glad? Took them long enough,” Natasha spoke, giving you a slight grin. Her red hair, once pulled back taut, now had a few loose pieces that fell against her cheekbones, “Plus, spare me. I’m getting a migraine from all that wine,���

“I’m trying to spare you” Tony spoke, fingers falling against his chest. Raising his opposite hand, he flashed the foil wrapper that sat between his fingers, “I don’t know what seat is safe,”

“Peter,” You groaned, covering your eyes as Tony tossed the wrapper towards you. You rubbed your temples as you heard Peter stutter from where he sat on your left.

“I mean,” Tony spoke, pouring himself another glass of whiskey from the limo’s bar, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Good for you kid, she’s way out of your league,” Taking a sip, he looked towards you. “So much for lone wolf,”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man #spiderman smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fic #spider-man fanfic #spider-man smut #spiderman fanfiction #spider man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

[eternalsams]

Bitter Taste ➻ Miguel O'Hara

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!miguel!reader

warning/content: swearing, violence, blood, some ATSV spoilers (but would take place before ATSV events)

summary: Miguel thought he was Nueva York's only Spider-Man, he was wrong.

words count: 1.7k

a/n: English isn't my first language, so please take that into consideration. This is straightly inspired by a tiktok I saw and been obsessing over for the last couple days. (@/soumart_1 on tiktok who made that incredible fanart and inspired this fanfic). Also I tried to use a bit of Spanish but I'm really not bilingual, if you see any weird sentences, feel free to correct me :)

a/n (2): I may write a part 2 if you want, this could even become a series if you like it that much but for now, it's a one-shot.

(my gif)

Miguel was standing in front of his screens as usual, and Lyla was pestering him, as usual. She kept repeating he should take a break and rest, that the multiverse won't collapse if he took a nap. But he knew better. He knew only him could protect the entirety of the multiverse. He rubbed his eyes tiredly but didn't move from his spot, his eyes scanning every screen in front of him, looking for a single trace of an anomaly. "I can see you're exhausted, I don't need to scan you to know you need to sleep." Lyla's voice would soon turn into a nightmare for Miguel if she didn't stop bothering him. "I don't need to sleep. I didn't create you so you can pester me all day long." He grumbled, crossing his arms on his chest and stroking his chin and cheek, pensive. "At this point, it's all night long..." He could hear the little lady mutter as she sunk into her holographic chair. Miguel sighed and opened a new screen before tapping a well known code and before Lyla could stop him, she disappeared with a little bubble sound. Now he was left alone for the rest of the night and he could focus on his task.

A few hours and a couple of coffee cups later, Miguel was seated in an uncomfortable chair, his eyes burning from exhaustion and his brain begging for a break. But no, he kept looking at the screen and sometimes checking on the weakest universes, the ones where the anomalies tend to land in the most. He was so focused on his work and so tired that he didn't hear the portal opening below his platform. He could've heard it if he was well rest, but he wasn't. And he would've heard the web sticking to the ceiling if he wasn't so focused on the screens and so stubborn on finding an anomaly. But he didn't hear any of that. He didn't know he was the prey of a new kind of predator. The kind that didn't need lights to see in the dark and that could almost smell his exhaustion from another universe. He didn't hear the steps getting dangerously closer to him but he did feel the claws digging into his shoulder and throwing him on the ground. He groaned in pain and rolled over on the floor but when he looked up, fangs and claws out, he didn't see anyone. His eyes turned from brown to red and he tried to look around him in the dark, but his sight had been severely damaged by the screens he'd been watching for hours now.

He frustratingly groaned and when he got on his feet, he only heard rushed steps on his left before feeling claws slicing the skin on his neck. He immediately held a hand to his throat to check the wound and he could feel it wasn't a deep cut. Which meant that the thing attacking him didn't want to kill him immediately, it wanted to intimidate him first. "Whatever you are, I am not scared of you." He said out loud, looking around and trying to focus on what he could hear. But only the sound of his blood pumping and his heart racing in his chest reached his ears. It had been a long time since he had to use completely his senses, normally he'd only use his strength to stop his ennemies. But this one seemed to be smarter than the anomalies he was used to chase down. "Eres débil." (You're weak.) He heard a rather feminine voice chuckle in the dark. The jab didn't make him laugh at all but rather grumble something. He stretched his neck and winced when he felt more blood coming out of the injury. "¿Por qué no te muestras ante mí?" (Why don't you show yourself to me?) Miguel groaned before wiping some blood off his neck with his wrist. "¿Qué tiene eso de divertido?" (Where is the fun in that?) The woman chuckled once again before he heard her swinging above him. He was starting to hear more perceptibly and see more clearly now, his senses getting used to this new enemy.

The next time he felt her approaching, he focused on his hearing and swinged his clawed fists in her direction, earning him a yelp of pain. He smiled in victory and jumped in her direction, claws and fangs out. But what he didn't hear was his enemy immediately recovering from his attack and jumping on him at the same time. They collided, groaned and rolled over on the floor. Miguel could almost see clear as day and he could discern long dark hair and a tan skin. Two red orbs were staring at him and he was sure his were staring at her the exact same way. "Cabrón!" (You bastard!) She hissed and the lights turned on when Miguel's back collided with the commands. He straightened up and looked up at his enemy before freezing. The woman attacking him was wearing the exact same suit as him, the only difference was that the red parts on his suit were orange on hers. The shock on his face wasn't similar on hers though. She knew exactly who he was when she attacked him, there was no doubt. "Who the fu-" He murmured before she jumped on him once more. He dodged her by a hair and when he went to grab her ankle, she shot her organic webs on one of the desk in the office and threw it in Miguel's direction. He received it right in the chest and humphed, pushing it off him.

"Enough!" He growled out and grabbed her wrist when she threw herself at him. Her claws were out, her eyes shining red and fangs menacing. Just like him. With her strength, she pushed him against the nearest wall and sank her claws in the concrete next to his head. Her second hand was held back by his grasp but was dangerously approaching his face. She snarled at him and with the remaining strength he had in him, he pushed her back and spined her around so he could slam her body against the wall. She squirmed to get free but his hold on her wrist was strong and before she could even think about using her legs to get away, he pinned her to the wall, crushing her body with his. "That's enough." He groaned in her ear as she kept growling like a feral animal. "I'm gonna ask you questions and you better answer me correctly. Who are you?" He struggled to keep her in place. "Why would I tell you?" She said in a thick Spanish accent. "Wrong answer." He grunted as he snaped her wrist to break it. She yelled in pain and rested her head against the wall, taking deep breaths to concentrate on her healing. "Again. Who are you?" He asked once more. The woman took a deep breath to calm down and opened her eyes to stare at him, her pupils turning back to brown. "Creo que sabes quién soy." (I think you know who I am.) She said as he kept staring at her for a moment before grabbing her elbow and twist it awkwardly. "Wait, wait, wait! I'll tell you who I am..." She immediately submitted. He released her elbow but didn't let her go, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm Michaela O'Hara." She introduced herself, slowly retracting her claws. Miguel froze for a moment, he put two and two together and understood she was another version of himself. "Why are you trying to kill me?" He asked, tightening his grip on her wrist because he knew she would never stop trying to get free. That's what he would do. "Actúas como un loco y casi destruyes el multiverso!" (You're acting insane and almost got the multiverse destroyed!) She growled at him, showing her fangs. "I paid the price of my mistake, I won't do it again." He said, his voice low in memory of his daughter. "Dios mío... You think you're the only one who lost Gabriella? Pathetic... I'm not here about her, I'm here about Miles Morales." (Jesus Christ...) She explained and he frowned. "What about the kid?" He loosened his grip on her and she immediately noticed it, deciding not to mention it. "I know exactly what you want to do to him. That's what I would have done. But you're wrong, Miles is not an anomaly, not more than us." She slowly pushed back from the wall, taking advantage of his distract. His eyes snapped back at her and he frowned once more. "How did you manage to stay hidden from me? I would've noticed you." And by I, he meant Lyla. "You think I would have let an idiot like you keep an eye on me? Oh, Cariño... Yo era el que te vigilaba." (Oh, Honey... I was the one keeping an eye on you.) She chuckled. "Do not think you're the only one who thought about exploring the multiverse." She said with a little smirk as she showed him another version of his multi-dimensional watch.

Only then he noticed she got free from his grip and when he tried and grab her once more, she just swatted at his hand. "And, by the way, I'm not actually trying to kill you. I just wanted to stop you." She walked around his office, looking at the multiple screens. She went to tap on some board before Miguel grabbed her wrist. "Don't touch anything or I'll break every single bone of your hand." He threatened her. "Relax, Grumpy. I will not break anything. You should get that checked out." She said, pointing at the injury on his neck. He brought a hand to his wound and hid a wince of pain. She silently chuckled and turned around, looking at the different universes shown on the screens. "Puedo?" (May I?) She asked as she pointed at the keypad on the desk. Miguel quietly grunted but nodded his head, watching attentively what she was doing. She entered coordinates and a new screen appeared with a number at the top. "Earth-203." Miguel read in a whisper. "Where I'm from, it is basically the same as here. Year 2099, flying cars, bullet trains directly to the moon, bla bla bla... Except I'm Spider-Woman instead of Spider-Man. Well, I'm Viuda-Araña." (Spider-Widow) She explained as she discreetly placed a microchip under Miguel's desk.

#miguel o'hara #spider-man #spider-man 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara imagine #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man fanfic #spider-man imagine #spider-man 2099 x reader #spider-amn 2099 x you #spider-man 2099 fanfic #spider-man 2099 imagine #spider-verse #across the spider-verse #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #fem!miguel o'hara

[sattlersquarry]

little freak (peter parker x gn!reader)

Summary: (Post NWH) Peter Parker knows that it sucks to go through life alone. But after everything that he put you through, staying away from you is the right choice...right?

Word Count: ~4.4k

Warnings: Language, allusions to sex, kidnapping, near death experience, loneliness, lowkey inspired by Little Freak by Harry Styles.

A/N: I haven't written for Peter Parker in so long holy cow!!!!

Peter Parker knows that it sucks to go through life alone.

But when the whole world forgets you exist, loneliness is a guarantee.

Columbia University is fine. It isn't MIT, and Peter isn’t there with his best friends, but it’s a good school and MJ and Ned don’t remember him anyway, so going to the same school as them doesn’t really matter all that much anymore. 

Peter reminds himself of these things like a mantra, that everything’s fine. He also tamps down the panic he feels anytime he sees you on campus. 

He knows he can’t avoid you forever. He also knows if you do see him, you won’t know him, so he can just politely smile and keep walking and it will be like nothing happened at all. 

But Peter keeps on hiding from you because of the heartbreak that threatens to tear his chest in two. Saying goodbye to you was one of the hardest things he’s ever done. The memory of finding you at your job at Delmar’s Deli last winter and not reintroducing himself like he promised tears him up inside, but it was the right choice. Still is the right choice. 

Anyone who gets too close to Peter ends up hurt, or worse. Peter would rather die himself than hurt you more than he has already. 

He’s content to be miserable and alone if it keeps you safe—but that all changes spring semester of freshman year, when you walk into the Psychology 101 lecture hall and take a seat next to him.

“Hey!” you say with such warmth and familiarity, Peter wonders if you do remember him now. 

He drops the pencil he’s holding. 

“Uh, hi,” he says, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. 

“I’m Y/N,” you say. “Nice to meet you.”

You hold out a hand to shake and Peter’s hope deflates. Of course. You’re just being nice. You’re always nice, even to strangers, even to people that don’t deserve it.

“Nice to meet you too,” Peter says. He shakes your hand and remembers a second too late to add, “Peter. I’m Peter Parker.”

Something indiscernible flashes across your face.

“Peter Parker,” you repeat. The name is familiar. Why is it familiar?

Before you two can chat more, the professor begins his lecture. Throughout it, Peter steals glances at you every few minutes. 

You’re a little older, but otherwise, it’s like no time has changed since the two of you were together. Since the days where you sat on his kitchen counter while he synthesized new web fluid over the stove. Since the days when you’d snap photos of him as Spidey in action for the school news team. Since the nights he’d sit with you on your fire escape, whispering about your plans for the future and stealing kisses under the stars. 

Peter wants to go back to those days and nights, but he can’t. 

So after class, when you ask if he wants to join you for lunch, he declines. 

“I’ve got to study,” he lies. “Thanks, though! I’ll see you.”

He gives you a curt nod and polite smile before he jogs out of the room. Embarrassed, you call your friends Ned and MJ to debrief. 

“I’m mortified,” you tell them after explaining what happened. “He practically sprinted away from me!”

“At least he was nice when he turned you down,” Ned points out, voice slightly garbled from a bad connection. “He could’ve been a jerk.”

“What’s his name again,” MJ asks. 

“Peter Parker.”

“Huh. Sounds familiar.”

“That’s what I thought!” you say, pressing the phone closer to your ear. “A lot of celebrities send their kids to college in New York. Maybe he’s a nepo baby.”

You hear the clicking of keyboard keys. 

“That’s weird,” Ned says. “I searched his name online and found…nothing.”

“Impossible,” MJ says. “Everyone has a digital footprint.” 

“Not Peter Parker. Except for an Instagram account he made three months ago with no posts on it, there’s no trace of him.” 

“Huh,” you mumble. “Super weird.”

“Stay away from him,” Ned warns. “He could be a serial killer.”

“Oh my god, he’s not a killer!” MJ says. “If he is, he would’ve agreed to lunch and then stabbed Y/N with a fork.”

“This conversation took a dark turn,” you say, shuddering at the image of the cute guy in your psychology lecture murdering you violently. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” 

Things continue the same for a while: you and Peter exchange kind smiles and idle small talk before the psychology lectures, but as soon as class is over, he races off faster than you can say, “Got any lunch plans?”

One day, you walk into class and he’s wearing a large pair of sunglasses. 

“Hey Peter,” you say. “I like your glasses!” 

“Oh, thanks,” he says. Truthfully, he’s wearing them to cover a bruise, courtesy of a new low-level villain terrorizing Manhattan, a trickster called The Spot. “I’m afraid they make me look like a douchebag.”

“No way! You look so cool.”

Peter blushes and mumbles out a thanks. 

After class, he packs up his bag fast, about to do his usual Irish Goodbye and leave before you can ask him anything. However, you’re too quick this time. 

“Look,” you say, “I need to be real with you, Peter: I think you’re really cute and I’d like to get to know you more. Want to get lunch with me?”

Peter’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he stammers. He adjusts the sunglasses. “I’ve got some stuff going on.”

“It doesn’t have to be lunch,” you say. “And it doesn’t have to be today. We could get dinner, or brunch, any day you want. Whatever works.” 

You’re aware that you sound desperate. Shockingly, you don’t care. 

Peter considers giving in. But he remembers the look of terror on your face as you fell off the scaffolding in the big battle. If Peter 3 hadn’t been there to catch you, you would’ve been killed.

“I’m really sorry,” Peter says, voice small. “You seem like a nice person. But I’m not interested.”

You visibly deflate, shrinking in on yourself as if you wish to miniaturize yourself like Ant-Man and disappear. 

“Oh, no worries,” you say. You smile apologetically at him, voice shaking a bit. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Peter begs. “It’s okay. Really.”

This time, you leave first, head down as you cut through the crowd of students leaving for lunch or new classes. 

Peter feels like a total jerk. But he’s protecting you. This is the best course of action. Right? 

***

“What’s his address? I just wanna talk.”

“MJ, stop,” you say. The two of you are FaceTiming that evening, and you’ve just given her the rundown of your failed attempt at asking Peter out. You swipe a stray tear from your eye. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Nevermind, I don’t need his address,” MJ says. Her eyes glint with malice. “When we come for your birthday, Ned and I will track him down and beat him up for making you cry.”  

“I thought you were a pacifist.”

“I am, until my best friend cries.”

“I don’t even know why I am crying,” you admit. “I mean, why do I care so much? I barely know the guy. But…”

“But what?”

You don’t know how to explain it. There’s an affinity for Peter Parker nestled somewhere deep in your ribcage, and you don’t know why. But it’s threatening to tear you in two pieces or swallow you whole if you don’t get over yourself. 

“But he’s got a nice butt,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood. “I really wanted the chance to touch it.” 

“There are better butts attached to nicer people,” MJ promises. “Guys that won’t totally shut you down without even giving you a chance.” 

You hope that’s true.

***

When your birthday rolls around, Peter wonders if it would be weird to get you a gift. 

Probably, right? Since you’re just psychology seat partners. But he knows how you didn’t have many good birthdays growing up, and in another life when the two of you were dating, he always went all out for your special day. 

He chickens out and doesn’t buy you anything, but when you walk into class with a red birthday ribbon pinned to your jacket, he takes the opportunity to say: “Whoa, happy birthday!” 

“Thanks,” you say with a shy smile. “I know, this is corny. My friends forced me to wear it.” 

“Your friends?” he says, mind flashing to Ned and MJ. He misses them terribly. 

“Yep, my best friends Ned and MJ. They’re at MIT but visiting for the weekend and throwing me a surprise party. They’re not very good at the ‘surprise’ part.” You clear your throat. “You can come, if you want. But no pressure.”  

Peter considers declining, but he really, really doesn’t want to. He allows himself to be selfish, just once. 

“I’d love to,” Peter says with a smile. 

After he makes the rounds as Spider-Man, he arrives at your apartment. There are more people at the party than he expected. He recognizes a couple fellow Columbia students, and another student from your shared psych class hands him a cup of cheap beer. His heart stops up when he sees you in the crowd.  

You’re dressed up more than usual, with the addition of a sparkly, plastic birthday crown. You’re talking and laughing with Ned across the room. You look happy. You look gorgeous. 

Peter’s feet move faster than his brain. He’s stricken with the overwhelming urge to walk over there and tell you just how good you look, to backtrack on what he said before and beg you to go on a date with him. He misses you, he can’t be without you anymore, and goddamn, you’re stunning—

Smack! Peter runs into MJ, spilling beer down the front of her shirt. He was too distracted for his spidey sense to kick in and warn him. 

“Hey, watch it!” she scowls.

“MJ!” Peter squeaks out. “I’m so sorry!”

The scowl deepens.

“How do you know my name?” she demands, fixing him with a harsh glare.

Shit.

“Uh, you’re Y/N’s friend!” Peter blurts out. “They talk about you, like, all the time.”

You’ve mentioned MJ maybe twice. 

“I’m Peter,” he continues, holding out a hand to shake. 

MJ crosses her arms, ignoring his outstretched hand. 

“You made Y/N cry,” she says in lieu of a proper greeting. 

“What?! When?!”

“When they asked you to lunch and you didn’t even give them a chance. Y/N’s the best person I know. You’re really missing out.” 

Peter feels awash in shame. He didn’t realize just how upset he had made you. That was the last thing he wanted. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean—I just—well, I’m—”

Before Peter can stumble his way through an excuse, you and Ned head over.

“MJ, what happened?” you say, noticing the beer stain.

MJ nods in Peter’s direction. “Pete the Klutz gave me a Natty Lite bath.”

“I’m so sorry, again,” Peter says, blushing furiously. 

“I’m sure it was just an accident,” you say. “No worries. Right, MJ?”

She doesn’t respond. You nudge her with your elbow and she says, “Yeah, whatever, it’s fine.”

“I can help you get that out,” you say. “We’ll be back! Ned, Peter, make yourselves at home.”

Ned, always so kind, turns to Peter with a bright smile.

“So,” he says. “Do you like Star Wars?”

“Do I?” Peter says. “Does only a Sith deal in absolutes?”  

“Oh yeah! Y/N loves it too. A few years ago we built a huge LEGO Death Star.”

Peter swallows the lump in his throat. That was the day you and Ned found out his secret, when he crawled into his room at the wrong time. 

“That’s awesome, man,” Peter says weakly. He forces a grin, so Ned doesn’t pick up on his mood shift, and asks, “How many pieces was it?” 

He talks with Ned for a bit, and when you and MJ return, he chats with you for only a moment, before you’re dragged away for cake and presents. 

Peter leaves the party early. He feels like an ass, but he does it because he was right to keep his distance: being with you like this—this phony version of himself, the one where he can’t tell you the truth or keep you close—is killing him inside. 

***

Peter’s spidey sense usually only picks up on true terror and panic. However, while walking through the campus library, his sense picks up a different kind of distress: deep, enveloping sadness.

It’s the kind that can eat you alive from the inside out. Peter knows it well, and it’s coming from the direction of a study room.

Through the tinted glass in the door of the room, he can just barely make out a silhouette backlit by a computer screen glow. The figure has their head in their hands, shoulders shaking as they sob. Peter stops breathing when he realizes it’s you. 

He can’t even stop himself before he’s twisting the doorknob and entering.

“Y/N,” he says urgently, “are you all right?”

“Peter,” you say, quickly wiping the tears away. “Sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”

You start packing up your things with shaking hands. Peter puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you. You suck in a breath, trying to calm your breathing. 

“What happened?” he says. Warped visions of you falling off the scaffolding haunt him once again, this time combined with even more gruesome visions from Mysterio’s mind-bending tricks. “Did somebody hurt you?”

“Someone would have to care about me to want to hurt me,” you mumble, hoping Peter won’t hear. Because of the super abilities you don’t remember he possesses, he does.

“People do care about you!” Peter protests. “I care about you.”

You scoff, a little meanly. 

“Yeah, okay,” you snap. You resume shoving books in your bag and close your laptop a little harsher than necessary. 

“I do, seriously—”

“Oh, really?” you say. You glare at him in a way that could turn a man to stone. “Is that why you barely talk to me in class, except for chit-chat about the weather? Or why you left my birthday party early? I don’t even know why I try with you, Peter. You’ve made it abundantly clear we’re not friends.” 

You toss your bag over your shoulder and storm out. 

“Hey, hold on,” Peter says, following you into the stacks. The two of you get shushed by someone, and he drops his voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry I left. You just had so many other friends there and I didn’t want—”

“Those people aren’t my friends!” you hiss. “MJ and Ned are my friends. The others were all invited by my roommate, because I have no social life. No love life. And to top it all off, I’m barely passing my classes.” You sniffle and rub your eyes harshly. “I’m a fucking wreck.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. You know, I could help you study—”

“Spare me, Peter. Don’t pretend like you all of a sudden care about me.”

Peter wants to scream until his voice is hoarse that he does care about you, so much. That he loves you and would do anything for you. That he misses your smile, your kiss, your touch. 

“I’m not pretending,” he says, voice cracking. “I know I’ve been a little cold to you, and I apologize for that. I’m here for you, always.” 

You roll your eyes and huff. You start to turn away, but Peter stops you.

“Please call or text me anytime, no matter when,” he says. He tears a page out of his notebook and scribbles his cell number on it. “Life kinda sucks sometimes. You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.”

You’re still glaring at him, but you accept the note before darting away. 

Peter watches you go, cursing himself for keeping his distance for so long when you needed the opposite. He makes a promise to himself right then and there that he’s not leaving you alone anymore. Never again. 

***

Over time, you soften to Peter once more. 

He makes more of an effort to “get to know you” in your before-class chats—even though he knows everything from before Dr. Strange’s spell. He also tells you more about himself, except for the obvious secrets.

Feeling bold, Peter asks you to go to lunch with him after class a few days after your conversation in the library. You’re suspicious by his sudden interest and look like you want to turn him down, but curiosity gets the better of you and you agree.

One lunch turns to two, which turns to five, which turns to every day, even the days you don’t have psych together.

You aren’t dating again, but Peter won’t lie and say he hasn’t thought about wrapping his arms around you and kissing you sweetly. 

He gives into the temptation after he walks you home from lunch one day.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!” Peter says, once you’ve arrived at your apartment door.

“See you,” you say. You start to stick your key in the lock, but suddenly turn back. “Hey, wait. Can I tell you something?” 

“Sure,” Peter says. “What’s up?” 

You clear your throat, unable to look him directly in the eye. You focus on a piece of lint on his shoulder and say, “Listen, Peter, I’m fine to continue with these completely platonic lunches, but I can’t deny anymore that I’m head over heels for you and want you to be my boyfriend.” 

Peter stops breathing.

“You are?” he says, voice cracking.

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t know why, but I feel so close to you. Like I’ve known you for longer than half a semester. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s totally fine. I won’t be upset and I still want to be your friend. I just had to get it off my chest. So…yeah. You don’t have to say anything or—”

Peter surges forward, hands cupping her cheeks as he kisses you. You kiss him back, apartment keys slipping out of your fingers.

Peter realizes what he’s doing and pulls away, eyes tinted with shame and regret.

“Oh god,” he says. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” you say, forcing an awkward laugh. “I think that was the best kiss of my life.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Peter continues. He watches as your face morphs from confused to sad. “I like you too!” he quickly reassures. “And I do want to be your boyfriend. But my life is…it’s not easy. And being with me won’t be easy. I have…problems.”

“Pete,” you say. He melts at the nickname. “Everyone has problems. I sure as hell have plenty of my own. But I like you a lot. And if you like me too, don’t we owe it to ourselves to try?”

Peter’s mouth goes dry. He wants to shut this down. That would be the responsible thing. 

Love trumps responsibility. Peter kisses you again, and again, and again, and then you grab your keys and clumsily unlock your door, dragging him inside with you to kiss some more.

***

Peter’s a nice boyfriend, but he’s flighty. 

He’s late often, or he leaves early. You try not to let it bother you, because when Peter is around, he’s kind and loving and always gives you his undivided attention. 

But you can only wake up to an empty bed after a night of passion so many times before it starts to hurt. 

You decide you’re going to ask Peter why he never stays the full night with you. Not to be accusatory. Just in a casual, roundabout, you-still-like-me-right? type way. 

You walk across campus, heading toward the bus stop that’ll take you to Peter’s place when you get the sense you’re being watched.

Hackles raised, you turn and glance behind you. No one is there.

You shudder and face front, walking a bit faster.

It’s early morning. Dapples of light wash the world in a rosy glow. It should be serene, but you still feel eyes on you, burning your skin like pinpricks. 

You break into a jog, only two minutes from the bus stop. You think that you can make it, until—

Smack! Something unseen trips you, and you faceplant onto the sidewalk.

“What’s wrong, Spider-Man?” Somebody above you cackles. “Not expecting to see me?”

You quickly turn onto your back and gasp. A man towers above you. He’s wearing a white suit covered in black spots, like a poor man’s excuse for a dalmatian. 

“I’m not Spider-Man!” you say, crawling backward away from him. “I swear!”

“Nice try!” he snaps. “I’ve been watching you, and after our battles, you always come back to campus. You always swing to the same apartment, and I followed you there. Don’t try to deny it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, voice shaking. “I’m just a dumbass trying to get a degree. Now, if you excuse me—”

You try to stand, but the dalmatian wannabe raises his fist. Before you can scream for help, he whacks you in the forehead. The world fades to black.

***

Peter drags himself through his apartment, sore from Kingpin’s punches the night prior and wishing he was still with you.

Each time the two of you sleep together, Peter gets a spidey sense for trouble after you're asleep. He has to disappear without warning in the middle of the night. 

Maybe the universe really hates me, Peter thinks. I finally get Y/N back, but I’ll lose them again if I keep ditching them like this. 

He starts to pour a bowl of cereal but spills it all over the counter when he gets it: a sudden sense that you’re in trouble. 

He’s not 100% sure how he can tell it’s you, but he just knows. He gets a feeling of where in the city you are and quickly suits up, before crawling onto the fire escape and swinging your way.

He’s on autopilot, only focused on one thing: keeping you safe.

He swings to the Brooklyn Bridge and, to his horror, The Spot has you tied up. Traffic is stopped on either side of the two of you.  

You’re unconscious, chin tucked to your chest, but there’s a huge bruise forming over your left eye. Under his mask, Peter scowls.

“Hey, Spot!” Peter yells, landing a few yards away. “Aren’t you late for obedience school?”

“What?!” The Spot says, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no. You aren’t Spider-Man!”

“Aren’t I?” Peter says, gesturing to his suit. “Damn, you need your eyes checked.”

“You aren’t Spider-Man because they are!” The Spot says, pointing in your direction. “And Kingpin sent me to toss them into the East River!”

The crowd that’s gathered gasps and murmurs. 

Peter’s heart sinks. After doing his Spidey thing, he must have swung to your apartment one too many times. This Dr. Strange Wannabe with terrible fashion sense followed him there and assumed you were him the next time you left. 

Peter pushes down the nauseous feeling that swirls in his stomach. He can’t get distracted by guilt, not right now. 

“There's only one Spider-Man,” Peter says coolly, "and he’s me. So, let them go, or else.”

The Spot cackles.

“Or else what?” he taunts. “You’re going to web me up? Try and catch me, first!”

The Spot opens a portal to the left of Peter’s head and punches him between the eyes. Peter staggers back as the villain pulls his arm back, closing the portal. 

A game of cat and mouse continues: Peter shoots webs at The Spot. The Spot dives through a portal to avoid the webs. He punches Peter and gets cocky, and then Peter punches The Spot while the villain’s guard is down. 

Eventually, you come to, head pounding. You adjust to the sound of people cheering, punches being thrown, and…is that water?

The Spot notices you stir and opens a new portal, right underneath you. The portal dumps you high in the sky. Gravity pulls you toward the choppy surface of the river, and you scream.

Peter moves on autopilot. He connects a web to the bridge and swings out to you, wrapping an arm around your waist when you’re three yards from the water. You burrow your head onto his shoulder and sob. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Peter says, holding you tight. “I’ve got you now.”

He swings back to the bridge and gently places you on the ground. He works to untie you as police cars and ambulances pull up. The Spot is nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry, Spider-Man,” you say, sniffling and trying to keep tears from falling. “If you hadn’t saved me, you would’ve gotten your villain.”

“Don’t ever apologize,” he says. “I’m here for you, always.” 

The way he says it…it stirs something in you. A memory. 

Your eyebrows lift. Your jaw goes slack. You study Spider-Man’s mask, recognizing it. Not because Spider-Man is the most popular hero in the city—because you’ve seen this mask before. Touched it before. Pulled it off and kissed the boy underneath it.

Spider-Man starts to swing away so the EMTs can check you over, but you grab his covered hand to stop him. 

His hands. They’re calloused and warm, and they fit yours perfectly. In another life, you used to doodle on those hands in Mr. Harrington’s class at Midtown. Because Spider-Man is Peter Parker, and Peter Parker was a student with you at Midtown. 

A baptism of memories washes over you. You remember two lives: one where you met Peter at Midtown orientation. One where you met him in Psychology 101. You love him fiercely in both. 

“Pete,” you whisper, quietly so only he can hear you. “It’s you.” 

The white eyes on Spider-Man’s mask grow in size. Before he can respond, you throw your arms around his neck and hug him. 

“I remember,” you say. “I remember everything. Vulture, Mysterio, the other yous…oh my god, Pete.” 

You’re crying again, before you can help it. Under his mask, Peter cries too, holding you close as his mind buzzes away.

You remember him. 

You remember him. 

***

Peter Parker knows that it sucks to go through life alone.

He’s indescribably lucky that you’ve chosen to stay by his side, in every lifetime.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x gn!reader #peter parker fanfic #spider-man x reader #spider-man fanfic #mcu fic: little freak

[disaster-writer]

Princess of Asgard, Goddess of Mischief

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter Parker instantly falls for the Princess of Asgard and the Goddess of Mischief and decides to show him a few tricks she has up her sleeve

Word Count: 8.3k

Rating: X 18+

A/N: Things have been changed around from the canon storylines in the MCU, Peter is 21 and a college student

A/N 2: I do not have a taglist

There weren't enough words in the Asgardian language to describe the amount of rage that burned in your veins, hell there weren't enough words in any Midgardian language for that matter. 

After everything he has done so far, after every failure, he still has the audacity to keep trying.

Your father was an ambitious man, you'd give him that. But even his ambition wasn't enough to save him from his own offspring.

The click of your heels against the linoleum floors were sharp and clipped as you moved with a purpose. Wisps of hair tickling your face that you couldn't even be half bothered to put back in place, which in of itself was out of character for you as your appearance was always perfected down to the very last strand of hair. But after the hellish trip through the rainbow bridge as well as your current situation, all you could be bothered to care about was making sure your father knew how much of a fool he was.

Only an idiot tries to take over the same place twice. 

The air of the Avengers compound was stale down in the cells. Everything you had seen so far was monotonous and boring. You knew not to expect much coming to Midgard but it was an even bigger let down than you were originally led to believe. 

You had't met the Avengers yet, too pissed at your father to waste another second not reprimanding him, so you had Thor lead you to him straight away. You passed empty cell after empty cell with Thor in the lead, until he came to a stop in front of the cell which contained Loki.

You stood in front of the glass cell, arms crossed. Your father raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

"I see you agreed to the arrangement then."

"I did," you jutted your chin out, "No thanks to you."

"You should have stayed home-"

"No. You don't get to tell me what I should and shouldn't do. You lost that privilege after your first attempt at conquering Midgard."

Loki narrowed his eyes, "I am your father--"

"And yet here I am, fixing another one of your messes," you said with a mirthless laugh, gesturing around you. 

He shut his mouth, and finally addressed his brother, "What's the next step now, seeing as you kidnapped your own niece."

"I didn't kidnap her. She agreed to this to help you," Thor said seriously, clearly offended that Loki would accuse him of kidnapping you. "They'll release you within a month. (Y/N) will remain the ward of Midgard for a year, as long as you can prove that you will no longer be a threat to this realm."

Loki snickered, shaking his head. "My own daughter in the hands of a bunch of Midgardians...” he trailed off. “I appreciate the gown you chose for today."

You tsked, "I figured someone should properly represent your name if you were going to keep pulling these stunts," you replied, gesturing to the expensive Asgardian gown you wore in his colors. Green with golden detailing.

"Perhaps you should try having more faith in me-"

"I do have faith in you," you snapped, "But It is your missteps that continuously lead to your downfall."

It was quiet for a few beats until Thor broke the silence, "She should meet the others now."

"Very well," Loki nodded, "Be prepared for them all to be very unpleasant, especially Stark. He thinks he's funny."

"I'll visit you later father," you said, turning to walk back down the hall, "Oh," you stopped, throwing over your shoulder, "If you ever put me through the pain of believing you were dead again, I'll kill you myself." You stalked back down the hall, not checking to see if Thor was following.

Loki looked at his brother, "That bad?"

"She was inconsolable. You broke her heart, brother," he said with a shake of his head, "You broke all of our hearts."

Loki looked back to your retreating figure as Thor now followed, staring regretfully after you.

***

You were stuck in your head now, deep in thought after seeing your father for the first time in a long time. 

Thor had told you that the Avengers had gathered to greet you and discuss the next steps from here. It truthfully sounded like a very boring affair, more so when you thought about the more productive things you could be doing back home.

In fact, that was the thing that irked you the most about these Midgardians requesting this of you. They must have been under the impression that your time wasn't important, as if the title "Princess" and "Goddess" were simply just for show.

Eventually a man came into view, waiting outside two large doors. He grinned upon seeing both you and Thor.

"Nice to see you two finally bothered to show up," he laughed.

"I apologize for keeping all of you waiting, Stark. She wanted to speak to her father first."

Tony lowered his glasses, giving you a once over, "Why? Planning on getting the band back together?"

"Excuse you?" You deadpanned only making him laugh.

He turned to Thor, "I can see where she gets her humor from," he said sarcastically, before finally introducing himself, "I'm Tony Stark. You might know me as Iron Man, I don't really know what names get around on Asgard or wherever."

"I'm not familiar with either."

"Ouch. I'll pretend not to be offended. Ready to meet the others?"

"I suppose."

"Then let's go Game of Thrones," he said, turning around and heading towards the closed doors.

"My father warned me about your humorous wit," you said sarcastically.

"Good. I wasn't sure he noticed."

Stark pushed open one of the meeting room doors, holding it for you and Thor. You were immediately greeted with the sight of numerous costume clad superheroes, the sight made you roll your eyes and once again think about what you could be doing back home instead.

You stalked to the front of the room wordlessly, with not a single misstep, presenting yourself elegantly.

Thor took his spot beside you as Tony stood opposite of you. The others in the room were quiet, you knew they were assessing you. Your father had tried taking over their realm twice so you understood that judgement would be all that you received during your stay.

So you wouldn't give them anything to judge.

Thor grinned beside you for the first time since the meeting with his brother.

"This is my niece (Y/N) Lokidottir. Princess of Asgard, Goddess of Mischief." Thor spoke the words with pride. He always had, he was convinced that raising you was his brother's best accomplishment.

You took the few moments of silence following your introduction to study their eyes and even you had to hand it to some of them, a few had eyes cold as stone. The red head and the one with the metal arm specifically. But there are always a few that communicated everything with a simple gaze.

Your eyes landed on the smallest male in the room. The look in them was not a foreign one. You had many suitors back on Asgard that would sing praises about your beauty daily, and the look in this boy's eyes was the same... maybe a bit more... pathetic. It made a smug grin fit itself on your face.

Stark finally spoke. 

"You can add Ward of Midgard," he laughed.

Your smile fell.

"Anyway. As I explained earlier, our arrangement with S.H.I.E.L.D. is to detain Loki for the next month or so before sending him back to Asgard. If he can play nice for the next year he can get his daughter back." You noticed the one with the shield shaking his head. It was nice to know that not all of them agreed with these terms. "If he can't, we keep her until he can. Until then, I came up with a few precautionary measures for our new house guest."

You stiffened, "I was not told about this."

"That's because I just came up with them this morning." Tony said, opening a folder. He began passing out its contents, "I've come up with different shifts for everyone to keep an eye on her. That way she'll be under constant surveillance by at least one person."

"Why weren't we told about this earlier?" Natasha asked., clearly annoyed.

"Is no one listening? I just came up with it."

"I'm not doing this," Bucky said, "I have better things to do than babysit an alien chick-" You raised your hand, making Bucky's metal hand clasp over his mouth and everyone turn to you in shock.

"'Goddess of Mischief'" you said, "It will serve you well to remember it." You dropped your hand, releasing him.

It was silent... until it wasn't, "And that is why we're doing this babysitting protocol. She's Loki's daughter, she needs to earn our trust."

"I can assure you, (Y/N) is very trustworthy," Thor said, coming to your defense.

"You also said you trusted your brother," Steve spoke up.

"Yes but (Y/N) is different. She'd never hurt anyone."

"My mouth hurts," Bucky muttered to himself.

"Again, she earns our trust first," Tony said. "Anyone with 'Mischief' in their name needs a trial run. Now onto this schedule..."

You rolled your eyes... Perhaps being on your best behavior was going to be more difficult than you had previously thought.

***

Quite honestly... Peter could have fainted when he saw you. He didn't even notice ha had stopped breathing until he coughed from the lack of air.

He felt like someone should have warned him better, because when Tony said, "Come meet Loki's kid later," did not count as a heads up.

This whole situation just felt so fucking unfair all of a sudden.

And being the devastatingly hopeless romantic that he was, he could only form one coherent thought:

You were fucking ethereal

You were so beautiful Peter felt like he could cry and scream about it, and he wouldn't be surprised if someone actually has before.

And the chill that he got when Thor introduced you, was enough to make him worship you -- a goddess.

Peter was quite convinced that he would be making a shrine to you as soon as he got home that night.

Peter swallowed nervously, his grip tightening on the fabric of his jeans.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "You cool Peter?"

He blinked in quick succession, only partially being broken from his trance, "Huh- yeah..." He suddenly trailed off when you looked directly at him. 

Your gaze was intense and he could have sworn he watched a flash of green flare in them, making him gulp.

Sam whistled lowly, noticing the small interaction, "Someone's gonna be dangerous for you... Can't say I blame ya though." He hummed, eyeing you.

Tony's voice suddenly cut into Peter's mind, "I've come up with different shifts for everyone to keep an eye on her. That way she'll be under constant surveillance by at least one person."

Right there.

That was the moment Peter retained nothing else, only trying to comprehend that he was going to have to be with you alone multiple times that week.

Peter would remain in a daze for the rest of the week, only staring at his name on the schedule that Tony handed out at the meeting:

PETER PARKER: FRIDAY 3pm-10pm,  SATURDAY 3pm-10pm, SUNDAY 3pm-10pm

He couldn't even be mad how late his shift was on Sunday when he had an 8:30 class the next day, because let's be real, Peter had the chance to be alone with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

The day came a lot faster than he had anticipated, but he guess that's what happens when you float through the entire week on cloud nine.

But now Peter felt like he was laying at the bottom of a pit. 

His heart beat quickly with anxiety the entire day, his palms were sweaty, and he was completely tongue tied making it embarrassing enough to talk to classmates that day that he didn't even want to think about how he was going to embarrass himself in front of you later that afternoon.

But soon enough, it was 2:50, and Peter found himself back at the Avengers compound to "babysit" you.

He licked his lips nervously as Happy led him into the building.

"What's got you all worked up? Well- more than usual?" Happy threw over his shoulder, noticing how fidgety Peter was acting, "Is it your tingle? The spider-tingle?"

Peter shook his head, not finding it in him to come up with a clever quip, "No."

"Is it because you need to watch Loki's kid, because she's really not that bad to handle, but I can get someone to cover your shift if--"

"NO!" Peter shouted, suddenly widening his eyes and clearing his throat at his little outburst.

Happy turned around in surprise before clocking in on what was going on based on Peter's composure, "Oh, I get it. Word of advice, because I know you're gonna do it. Don't talk too much, she doesn't like talking. Just let her read her books and you'll be on her good side."

Peter's eyes shined at the advice, "No talking, got it."

Happy turned back around, proceeding towards the library where Peter assumed you were currently in. "And another piece of advice," he said, reaching for the door handle, looking down at Peter before opening it, "Don't even think about going for it. She's Loki's daughter, kid. And just as terrifying."

Peter pursed his lips, "...She's also related to Thor, so..."

Happy scoffed, "And inherited none of his traits." He opened the door, letting Peter go in first.

Peter noticed the back of Bucky's head as he walked into the library, but only for a second as his eyes landed on you.

And again, the sight of you took his breath away. He was almost hoping that he hadn't remembered you correctly and you weren't even a quarter of how beautiful as he thought, but he was proven oh so very wrong.

You laid across one of the couches in the reading area, leaning against the arm, in one of your beautiful Asgardian gowns. The light from the windows filtered into the room, forming a halo around your body.

You looked like a goddamned renaissance painting.

It was then that Peter took in what was happening, and... well he wasn't sure if he really understood what was happening.

"You two are still at it?" Happy asked, shaking his head before turning to Peter, "I swear, every time Bucky has to watch her the two have a staring contest the entire time. I think they're trying to figure out who has the more intense stare." Happy then walked over to you both, waving a hand in front of Bucky's eyes, "You're off duty Buck, you can both blink again. Also Steve invited you to go train with him once you were done here."

Bucky grunted before standing up. He noticed Peter on his way out and raised a brow, muttering a "Good luck" which sounded like he had absolutely no faith in Peter to survive the next seven hours alone with you.

"Right." Happy nodded, "(Y/N)'s free to go to all the common areas, her room, and the bathroom. Stay out of the labs, away from the cells. Thor is her designated escort to go see her father so you have no business being down there. Anything else, just ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. Sound good?"

Peter just nodded, not being able to take his eyes away from you as you stared back at him.

Happy looked back and forth between the two of you, "Good lord," he sighed, "Don't forget that you're on camera (Y/N)," he called over to you before taking his leave.

Now it was just you and Peter. You watched as he tentatively took a seat where Bucky had been previously sitting.

He gulped again, eyes flickering all over the place, feeling uncomfortable under your gaze. It was a weird feeling for him to be speechless, but he couldn't form a coherent thought around you.

You finally looked away, reaching for a book that you had placed on the table beside the couch you were on. Your fingers carded through the pages until landing on the page Peter assumed you must've left off on.

It would be silent for the next half hour before Peter finally found it in him to speak up.

"What are you reading...?" He asked cautiously. He knew Happy said you didn't like talking, but it felt weird to sit in complete silence the entire time.

"Game of Thrones," you hummed, and dear God... he forgot how euphonious your voice was considering he only heard you speak a few sentences earlier that week. "Stark keeps calling me 'Game of Thrones', and I don't like when people below me speak things that go over my head."

Peter laughed awkwardly, until he realized you weren't joining him, making his awkward chuckle turn into a cough. "Yeah... that sounds like Mr. Stark."

It was silent again... and Peter was starting to regain his uncontrollable urge to speak again.

"So uh... what were you and Bucky doing?"

You hummed, "I like Bucky," you said, not answering his question, but hey, if you were willing to talk, Peter wasn't going to stop you. "There's a lot of pain in his eyes."

"And you like that?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"I'm partial to broken things," your eyes looked up from your book, once again locking with his, "Tell me Peter... are you a broken thing?"

Peter spluttered as he felt an uncontrollable heat crawl up the back of his neck, and once again, he found himself unable to form any words.

You cut off his broken stutters, "I see pain in your eyes too, different... but it’s there."

"I mean-- yeah I guess. Who doesn't have a story, right?" He chuckled uncomfortably, "I don't think anything I've been through compares to Bucky's past though, y'know? Maybe that’s why it looks different? Or something, like you said—“

"You talk when your nervous," you noted.

"Wha- yeah, I guess I do--"

"Do I make you nervous?"

Peter's eyes widened and he truly felt helpless under your gaze as you waited for his response, "Um... "

"Why do I make you nervous?"

Peter bit his lip, looking away from you, "Well... you're a Princess... and a Goddess from another planet. I'm not really sure how to talk to you."

"From what I heard from the others, that's never seemed to stop you before."

Peter looked at you with wide eyes, "Have-- Have you been talking about me with the others?"

"Yes," you easily admitted, "You intrigue me Peter Parker. From the moment I saw you in the meeting room."

Peter felt like a fish out of water, mouth falling and closing shut as he searched for the words to respond to that. He almost didn't want to believe you, it felt too surreal. "Why would I..."

You shrugged, "You're different than the others. I can tell you have a kindness your friends do not possess."

He thought back to all the times he showed villains mercy where he knew the other Avengers wouldn’t, and he was to compelled to agree with you, just a little bit, "Maybe a little... but the others are heroes too."

"Come here."

"What?"

And for the first time, Peter saw you smile and if you were pretty before, he was sure he was going to have to take a few days off in order to cope with how pretty you were now.

"I said, 'come here'," you laughed gently.

Peter took a shaky breath and nodded, walking over to you as you swung your legs over the couch to make a space for him while placing your book back down. He sat on the opposite end of the couch so that there was an empty cushion between you and you laughed once again at his tentativeness. You moved over, the side of your body pressing against his as he gulped, staring straight ahead of him.

You gazed at his side profile for a moment, and you did have to admit-- this Midgardian was quite cute.

Most of the men back on Asgard were too proud for their own good, and you found that too much pride made a man insufferable... but Peter? Was a breath of fresh air.

You promised not to get too ahead of yourself though as he still was a Midgardian. At least now you couldn't fault your Uncle for finding some sort if interest in that Jane woman he had told you so much about.

"I like you Peter."

Peter turned to look at you, eyebrows drawn together in utter confusion, "But you barely know me," he said, voice high pitched and flustered.

"And you barely know who I am, however that hasn't stopped you from being attracted to me either," you said challengingly.

"Are you-- Are you saying you're attracted to me?" 

You studied him, a silence filling the air between the two of you. Your faces were only a few inches apart and you wanted to attempt something, so you leaned forward and--

A sudden shock of Peter’s spider sense going off caused him to jump backwards, back bending along the arm of the couch, staring at you with panic as he assessed that yes, you had just leaned in to kiss him.

Peter continued to gaze at you with his panic stricken expression, as your face slowly morphed into a look of glee, and he could have sworn your eyes flashed green again with magic.

"You're fun," You said breathlessly, "You are nothing like the men back home." 

You placed a hand on his shoulder to draw him in once more, before saying, "I would like to get to know you some more Peter Parker."

"Are you gonna try to kiss me again?" he rushed out.

"Would you like me too?"

"Yes-- No-- I mean-- I don't know what the protocol is here."

"There is no protocol. I may be a ward of Midgard but I am still the Princess of Asgard and Goddess of Mischief. I will be gone within a year. So would you like to kiss me before I go?"

He bit his lip, contemplating the correct answer before slowly nodding.

"I would like that too." you grinned, before an idea came to mind. You hadn't seen your father in quite a bit due to Thor being busy, so you decided to use this as an opportunity, "But first, I need a favor from you Peter Parker."

"S-sure, anything."

"I would like to visit my father."

Peter's face dropped, "I'm sorry Princess but I can't do that."

"I know you're not supposed to, but my Uncle has gone back to visit Asgard a few days ago and I haven't been able to see my father since I first arrived and I am asking you because I think you are kind enough. The others would never take me to visit him."

Peter looked away, contemplating his options. You were right in saying that the others would never let you see your father.

"Can we wait until your uncle-- I mean, Thor, comes back?"

You sighed, leaning away from him and Peter immediately missed your closeness, "I suppose. However he isn't meant to come back for quite a bit. My grandfather, Odin, will be waking up from the Odinsleep in a while, and my Uncle needs to be there for Asgard until that time comes. I'm worried I won't be able to see my father before they free him by the end of the month."

"Oh... Then, maybe, just for a short while, I could maybe accompany you in the cells--" he conceded.

"You would?" you asked, immediately leaning in close to him again, "I would only need a few minutes and you could stay with me the entirety of the meeting. Then afterwards... I would like to get to understand you better Peter."

Peter found himself nodding like a lovesick fool. "Okay..." Suddenly he remembered what he would need in order to get you down there, "It's not going to be easy. I need to find the code for the cell room and there's going to be guards."

"Well... perhaps if you would allow me. I could bewitch the guards so that we could sneak past." Peter suddenly narrowed his eyes, so you backtracked seeing as you were willing to do whatever need be in order to see your father once more, "Unless you would like to do it another way? I won't use my magic if it makes you feel uneasy. I only want to see my father before he leaves, not get you nor I in any trouble."

Peter nodded, "As long as you don't hurt them then I guess it's fine."

"Of course."

"There's also the issue with the cameras."

"I can bewitch them as well."

"Alright then," and slowly Peter started smiling at the prospect of going on a little adventure with you. "First we need to go into one of the labs to find the code. I'll have to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database to find the passcode but it shouldn't be too hard. I had to do it before and it wasn't too bad."

You grinned, "Perfect."

You followed Peter as he led you to one of the labs as he refused to let you out of his sight-- you assumed he wanted to do something correctly since he would be breaking multiple rules for you.

It didn't take long for him to find the passcode, thoroughly impressing you as you couldn't even begin to understand the complexities of their technology. And he was leading you down to the bottom floor in no time, making sure to point out all of the cameras along the way.

Peter didn't even need to ask you to bewitch the guards because he immediately noticed a green fog in their eyes the moment they came into view. He glanced back at you a bit nervously but seeing as his Spider-Sense hadn't been triggered by you, he figured that you really weren't planning anything.

He felt bad not trusting you as you had seemed sincere when speaking to him along with Thor vouching for your trustworthiness, and he knew he shouldn't judge someone based on the actions of their parents, but you made him nervous... but again that could just be because you were so fucking pretty.

Punching in the passcode, Peter shoved the piece of paper he wrote the numbers on into his pocket before leading you to your father-- well, it was more like he was wandering the cell blocks, looking for Loki seeing as he had never been down here before.

As Peter stumbled around, you stalked down the hall with a purpose, Peter not missing how elegant your walk was.

And soon the two of you were in front of your father's cell.

Loki was sitting up on the bed once he noticed your approach, and he raised an eyebrow as he looked from you to Peter.

Peter felt a chill run down his spine as Loki studied him.

”Where’s Thor?”

You quirked a brow, “Have you forgotten already father? He had to leave for Asgard a few days prior.”

”Right,” He nodded, glancing at Peter briefly, “I presumed you were just avoiding me.”

You laughed, “Of course not. You should thank Peter for allowing me to see you before you leave.”

”I see… Are you that Spider-Boy…?” Loki asked.

Peter shifted on his feet, glancing back at you, “It’s Man. Spider…Man.” He finished awkwardly.

”Ah…” Loki nodded, turning back to you, “How have your accommodations been?”

”Fine I suppose. Stark has his men watching me around the clock so it could be better.”

Loki scoffed, ”They’re infantalizing you.”

”Yes, but I can’t blame them. You haven’t set a very good example so I can see why they don’t trust me.”

Loki rolled his eyes, moving onto the next thing, “I need to apologize to you. I would have liked to do it in private but seeing as I won’t see you for a year, I should do it now.”

“Go on,” you nodded.

“What I did to you was… unfair. I should have let you know, but I didn’t and what’s done is done now, and I can’t take away the pain I caused you for my ruse. So… I’m sorry.”

You jutted your chin out, holding back the tears that pricked behind your eyes at his words. You gave him a curt nod. “Unfortunately I cannot accept your apology, but I do thank you for it… I care about you deeply father, so I ask you to please, never pull a stunt like that again… or at least tell me before you do.”

”I promise.”

You nodded once more, knowing that his word to you was the only word he would never go back on. 

“Good. We’ll be heading back now.”

”Very well. I love you (Y/N).”

The words sounded foreign. Despite the obvious care you both held for each other it was simply not in your natures to voice them, but sometimes, very rarely, he could ignore what was ingrained in him.

And so could you.

”I love you too father. Have a good night.”

After you bid your farewells, you and Peter were taking your leave.

Peter was quiet as he followed you out with a feeling of guilt weighing heavy on his heart.

He had been so distracted by your appearance and fancy titles that he had almost forgotten you were human— actually he wasn’t sure whether you were human or not, but you clearly had feelings and your situation was truly dawning on him.

He felt like an intruder, watching the interaction between you and Loki, almost like it wasn’t meant for his eyes and ears. But he knew that whatever Loki had done, it had hurt you. And as selfish as it was Peter liked seeing this vulnerable side of you.

”Let’s go to my room.”

”Huh—?” Peter asked, staring at the back of your head, “Are you sure?”

”Yes.”

”Are the guards—“

”They returned to normal once we were out of sight,” you said as you stepped into the elevator with Peter.

”What floor—“

”Go to the library first. We need to make it seem as if we were leaving from there.”

”Right.”

Peter did as you said, going to the library where you two had assumed your earlier positions before you stopped bewitching the cameras. From there, the two of you left to go to your bedroom.

Once there, Peter watched as you situated yourself on your bed while he stood awkwardly by the door.

He noticed the look in your eyes now seemed distant than they were earlier. Peter understood that he didn't know you very well-- in fact, he had only known you for about four hours in total but even still, he had a feeling that this faraway look in your eyes was not who you typically were.

"Can I... ask you something?" Peter asked with hesitation, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked around your barely lived in room.

You blinked, almost as if remembering he was still there, "Yes."

"I don't mean to pry but... what did Loki do to you? It just seems like something happened between the two of you," he said, fumbling with his words.

You pursed your lips with a hum, debating whether or not to share your sob story with him. But you guessed that after you left you wouldn't be seeing him ever again so... why not?

"I don't know what Midgard knew of my father's antics before he tried conquering Midgard again, but he faked his own death."

Peter nodded in recognition, "Yeah, I actually did hear about that."

"Yes... and he lied to me too."

"He didn't... you believed he was dead too?"

You nodded, "I believed he was dead for years... So imagine my surprise when my Uncle comes to me, telling me my own father who we both believed to be dead-- who we held a funeral for, was captured on Midgard and I was to replace him as Midgard's ward in order to free him." You continued, "I’ve seen him for one of the first times in years,  just to be without him for another year." 

You stared across the room and Peter continued to gaze into the distant look in your eyes. He found it quite ironic how you were saying you liked broken things when Peter could see that you were feeling just as broken.

But suddenly, you snapped out of it and looked up at Peter.

"But enough about that. I'd prefer to hear you speak instead. Come, sit." You invited, patting a free space on your bed.

Peter walked over, starting to feel a little bit more comfortable around you as he sat at the end of the bed, leaving more than enough space between you both.

"You called yourself Spider-Man?" You asked, remembering what he had said when you both visited Loki.

"Yeah," Peter grinned, "That’s my um, alias.”

”I see,” you hummed, “You seem to be much younger than the others.”

”Yeah, when I was 15 I got bitten by this radioactive spider and it gave me superpowers, so I kinda got into the game pretty early on.” He shrugged.

”What kind of powers did you receive?” 

“Oh y’know… super strength, speed, flexibility… I guess that’s the normal stuff when you think of super powers.”

You moved closer to him, making him blush even though there was still plenty of space between you both. “Did the bite make you humble as well or was that always apart of you?”

Peter blushed harder, laughing awkwardly as you fixed him once again with one of your intense gazes.

”I-um— I dunno,” he stuttered, before finding himself into another one of his ramblings, “Another cool thing I got though is this spider sense, so I can like tell when I’m in danger before something happens.”

This really piqued your interest, “Really now? To what extent?”

”I’m not too sure… like one time I was able to tell the milk was spoiled before I drank it, and like before… when you leaned in, I knew you were going to kiss me, that’s why my reaction was kinda, uh, violent…” He trailed off.

You quirked a brow, “So you think I’m dangerous?”

”No!” He yelped, “It’s just— I was able to tell you were going to do something kind of, I dunno, but it’s like I think you kissing me would have surprised me which is why it triggered my spider sense— do you know what I mean?”

You laughed at his desperation, “So, if I tried to kiss you again, would you move away?”

”Um… No?”

You hummed, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him down.

”W-what are you doing?” 

“Relax Peter. You’ve been on edge for hours now. Are you usually like this?” You asked. 

Peter eyed you warily, allowing you to push him down onto your bed, gasping when you straddled his lap.

He jerked up onto his elbows, looking frantically around the room, “Are there cameras in here. If Mr. Stark sees this then—“

”Shh,” you hushed, placing a finger on his lips, his wide eyes meeting yours again. “I’ll take that as a yes. And no, there are no cameras in here.”

Peter felt even more on edge now. You were setting off his spider sense with whatever you were planning making him feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On the one hand he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, this was technically fraternizing with the enemy seeing as you were Loki’s daughter and Mr. Stark didn’t trust you yet but on the other hand… here was a goddess practically throwing herself at him.

You placed both hands on his chest and pushed back down again and he allowed you to.

You leaned over him, placing both hands on either side of his head, your hair draping down around his face.

”You look scared Peter.”

”I’m sorry.” He rushed out in a single, high pitched breath.

”Don’t be,” you lilted, dragging a finger along his jaw, “I find it endearing. The boys on Asgard are always so full of themselves, it’s nice to see how… compliant you are. It is doing wonders for my ego right now,” you said with a laugh.

Peter gulped, his entire body was tingling, especially where you kept stroking his skin. And he swore, waiting for you to kiss him was driving him mad as the anticipation was almost too much to handle, so instead he found himself leaning up and crashing his lips to yours instead.

You reciprocated immediately, pushing him back down to the bed as you took control of the kiss. His lips were completely to your mercy as you kissed and nipped at them.

”There’s… something about— you,” you said in between kisses, “That makes me feel… powerful.” 

“Oh shit,” Peter muttered at the feeling of his hands being restrained by magic. He broke the kiss, looking at his hands, then back at you. A soft unrestrained whimper escaping him.

Peter clearly had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he was starting to realize.

“Oh my God,” Peter hissed, jerking his hips up as you shoved your hand down his pants, “Princess, I—“

”I’m very impressed,” you hummed, squeezing his cock, “Back on Asgard there are many rumors about Midgardian men being small, but I can’t say that about you.”

Peter’s face grew ten times more red with your comment, moaning as you squeezed him.

”Wait— Princess, if you keep doing that, I’ll—“

”That soon, huh?” You said with a laugh, quite enjoying the helpless and desperate look on his face, “Very well,” you let go of him, pulling your hand out of his jeans. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun too soon.”

Peter felt a rush of air enter his lungs once you let go, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m sorry,” he said once again.

”For what?” You asked with a raised brow, “There are plenty more activities we can partake in first. I’m actually quite interested in seeing what your mouth can do. Care to show me?”

Peter swallowed nervously, “You mean— you want me too…?”

”Would you like to?”

Peter found himself at a loss for words, only being able to nod frantically in agreement.

”Wonderful,” you giggled, climbing off him.

You situated yourself on your back, leaning up on your elbows.

Peter watched as you pulled up your dress and spread your legs… for him.

He must’ve fucking died and gone to heaven at that point. 

Peter also thought that this must have been his reward for dealing with all the grief and pain he had endured in his life.

He sat up. Staring at your cunt— you hadn’t even been wearing underwear this entire goddamn time.

Peter was struck with the sudden need to make you feel good. He wanted to prove to you that yes— he was so much better than the boys back on Asgard. He would do anything for the Princess of Asgard and Goddess of Mischief to be hooked on the pleasure only little Peter Parker from Midgard could provide.

He would have done anything for you in that moment just to prove he was good enough.

He tentatively made his way between your thighs. You leaned up further, pressing your lips against his briefly before muttering, “Get to work.”

Peter stared back at you with a puppy-like gaze, bright and completely under your control.

He did as you said and laid down on his stomach. 

Your cunt was only a breath away, his cock twitched realizing how wet you were— you wanted him.

Without any more hesitation, he dived forward, dragging his tongue against you. He relished the moan that left you upon licking your clit.

He moaned at your taste, he was sure that he’d never get enough of it now. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, tongue focusing on your clit.

You laid back with a gasp, fingers tangling into his brown curls. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan for today, but you’d take it. He was much better with his mouth than you were expecting.

You bucked your hips against his mouth and gave a harsh tug to his curls, making him whimper. “Use your fingers,” you ordered.

He did as you asked without a moments hesitation, letting go of your thigh to press his fingers into you, immediately curling his fingers to find what he was looking for.

”A little more— ah, there,” you gasped out in bliss as he continued to thrust his fingers into you while sucking on your clit.

Peter stared up at you. You were so fucking gorgeous he was sure this was a dream.

Your mouth fell slack as you moaned out his name, eyes screwed shut and toes curling. He was doing this. He was the one making you feel this good right now.

Peter nearly came in his pants, untouched, as you opened your eyes and locked your gaze with his. 

Eyes smoldering and intense, even more so than they had been earlier, almost making him freeze in his spot if he wasn’t so determined to make you cum.

And you did.

While moaning his name.

Peter worked you through your orgasm, letting you buck against his face until you became limp, laying against the bed as you panted.

Peter pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper. He then pulled away from you, his mouth and chin covered in your slick.

”You taste really good,” Peter said breathlessly, moving up your body.

”Do I?” You giggled, clearly in a much better mood. “Care to give me a taste then?”

”Yeah,” he breathed, leaning down to press his lips to yours again.

You were nearly too much for poor Peter Parker to handle as he hadn’t felt his spider sense calm down since this began.

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck, lips moving against his lazily after your orgasm.

It only took you a few moments to get back into the game as you pushed his hoodie down his shoulders. He eagerly pulled it off, tossing it off the bed.

He broke the kiss, tugging his t-shirt off and making you giggle.

”You seem very eager,” you commented, eyeing his chest and abs.

”After that— yeah.”

You sat up, fingers trailing up his arms. “I really must say that you are full of surprises,” you hummed, thoroughly impressed with how muscular he was. “I think it’s your turn.”

You sat up more, pushing him back onto the bed so he lay on his back, once again straddling his hips and giving you an even better view of his upper body.

You rolled your hips, making him grunt and feel how hard he was.

Now, growing up, Peter learned an important life lesson.

If something seemed to be too good to be true, it usually was.

His crush asking him out in ninth grade was a prank.

Spider-Man seemed like a pretty sweet deal until he realized that he’d nearly die and get his loved ones killed many times over.

The time the Princess of Asgard and Goddess of Mischief seduced him?

Turned out to be apart of a fucking scheme.

“What is going on here!?” Peter suddenly heard, and none other than from Nick Fury as the door was violently thrown open.

You looked up to find Stark, Thor, and the rest of the Avengers standing in the doorway. Tony’s arm wearing the arm of his suit, palm open and ready to shoot.

”What!?” Peter yelped, sitting up and pushing you off him.

”Loki’s missing,” Tony suddenly said, “And we had a feeling it might have something to do with his daughter considering you two were no where to be found on the camera system.”

Peter’s head snapped towards you, eyes widened in panic.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you climbed off the bed. 

“A shame really,” you hummed, looking back at Peter, “Things were really about to get fun.” You turned back to the Avengers. “Next time, it would serve you well to take your own advice Stark. If you ever meet someone with the word ‘Mischief’ in their name. Don’t trust them… and Uncle,” you looked at Thor, “I do apologize, but it had to be done.”

”Then it’s too late?” Thor asked defeatedly.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, aiming his question at Thor, “Why do you Asgardians always talk in riddles?”

You only smiled and with a wave goodbye and a flare of green light… you were gone.

”Where’d she go?” Nick demanded furiously of Thor, the others now waiting on him.

”That wasn’t her,” Thor answered, “That was merely a replication of her. Her true self must have slipped out and freed Loki… I would imagine that they are both off Midgard by now.”

"Her true self must have slipped out, huh?" Nick Fury repeated accusingly, now staring at Peter, "I wonder how she managed that."

Peter's mouth fell open as everyone now stared at him. "Okay. I know this looks bad--"

"Looks bad?" Steve hissed, finally speaking up for the first time, "Tony being caught playing with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s new weapons 'looks bad'. Not only did you let our only assurance that Loki wasn't going to attack Earth escape with him but you were about to--"

"In the kid's defense," Bucky started, cutting Steve off, "She probably could have done that to most of us, her tactics seemed kind of... foolproof."

Nat shook her head, "We need to debrief this properly. Everyone in the conference room, Tony get Bruce, I'll get Clint, and Peter... put your shirt on." She quickly stalked off with a few of the others following behind.

Peter stared at the ground, sitting guiltily under Nick, Tony, and Steve's glares, "She's right." Fury said, "We'll review this and figure out what our next steps are," and finally the last of them were leaving.

Peter buried his face in his hands and swore that if he ever saw you again he was going to... well he didn't know what he was going to do yet, but he sure as hell was fucking pissed and humiliated.

***

"Let's go," you muttered, pulling your father along with you and giving a nod towards Heimdall.

"Why are you in such a rush," Loki asked, wondering why you seemed so apprehensive.

"I doubt Thor will think we came to Asgard but we can never be too sure-- My plan isn't over yet."

Loki quirked a brow, "You set up more than just our escape?"

"Of course."

He hummed, walking with you towards the kingdom, "I’m impressed."

"I'm just glad you picked up on my lie about Thor's whereabouts back in the cell."

"That quirk in your brow wasn't as subtle as you think, however you did a nice job in choosing the weakest of the Avengers."

You shrugged, "He’s a young and naive man— they all think the same. Show them a pretty face and there’s only one thing on their mind. I was able to slip this from him without him knowing," you said, raising the piece of paper with the passcode that he had shoved into his pocket earlier.

Loki tsked, “I don’t want to know what you got up to with that boy, but I will assume that you did what needed to be done. What's the plan now?"

"Well, I figured since this entire situation stemmed from you wanting to rule a realm then... you'll rule Asgard."

"And how are we accomplishing that?"

"You will pretend to be grandfather." You said.

"And what will you do with your grandfather then?"

"I'll take care of that. You just focus on ruling Asgard.”

”Hm, I guess you take after me more than I thought.” He hummed.

You didn’t respond, now focused on figuring out how to proceed with the next phase of your plan.

That, and trying to ignore the way your mind kept wanting to think about the Midgardian boy and how he made you feel.

But just like every man you felt for before, you’d crush each and every one of those feelings… you had a much more glorious purpose to live up to after all.

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fic #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #Peter Parker #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker fic #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker fanfiction #tom holland!peter parker x reader #Tom Holland!peter Parker #Tom Holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #spiderman #Spider-Man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #Spider-Man fic #Spider-Man x reader #spider man x reader fic #Spider-Man smut #peter parker smut #Tom Holland smut #Spider-Man x reader smut #Peter Parker x reader smut #Tom Holland x reader smut #Loki #MCU Loki

[kitcat992]

this isn't a rush for the next update!!!! i was only wondering if you could give a tease of any kind for whats to come. i can't wait!!!

I think I can manage that.

Every installment has had a trend of some sort woven throughout.

I'm looking forward to writing this chapter in particular.

#fanfic #fanfiction #irondad #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #spider-man #spider-man fanfic

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

An fix on the average day in the office as a private eye for Spider Noir?

First of all, it's been over three months. I am so so sorry. BUT I hope my 5k oneshot that greatly spiralled away from your og prompt makes up for it haha :)

TW for a bit of body horror, VERY brief mentions of period-typical racism and also some brief Spider God-related ickiness

Light Up Your Insides (Not Today)

The little bell at the door chimed and Peter looked up from his lunch to see a woman entering. She was maybe middle-aged, had brown skin, dark hair and a look of deep worry on her face.

Peter sat up straighter behind his desk pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Are you--Peter Parker?" the woman asked.

Peter nodded. "That's me. Please take a seat. How can I help you?"

The woman breathed out in relief, but the worry didn't ease up yet. With only a moment's hesitation, she sat down on the chair opposite of him, but she didn't lean back.

"Mr Parker, I need your help. They say you're a good dick, and..."

She trailed off, but Peter could imagine the rest.

"My daughter, she's gone missing. The police wouldn't help me, and the--others I've asked said they were too busy, there's more important--"

Peter nodded. The woman didn't look like she could pay well, which would put others in his profession off. The coppers didn't really care, ever. And it likely wasn't helping that she was African American, either. The woman herself still looked like she was preparing for rejection--but luckily for her, Peter wasn't known for turning anyone away.

"Please tell me more about this case, Mrs...?"

"Johnson."

"Johnson. Do you want a tea? Coffee?"

Mrs Johnson shook her head. "No, thank you."

That was just as well. Peter wasn't sure if he even had tea around and he still wasn't a huge fan of sharing his coffee--not that she needed to know that.

Peter took up a pencil and a sheet of paper. "Then please tell me of your troubles, Mrs Johnson."

Mrs Johnson took in a deep, shaky breath. "It's--my daughter. Flora. She--she doesn't usually run off, she's never done it before, but--it's been two days..."

Against Peter's best attempts, he'd never quite been able to shake the images from that lab back on Ellis Island, even though it had been years. The apple had settled a lot, since then; the criminals weren't as bad anymore, not every last person with any kind of authority was corrupt and the Spider wasn't needed even nearly as much as back then. But he still couldn't help that very first thought when he heard of a black girl gone missing. New York was anything but safe, not really, especially for coloured people.

Peter did his best to keep his calm demeanour, if only because the last thing Mrs Johnson needed was even more stress. "Please tell me what exactly happened in as much detail as possible."

Mrs Johnson took another shaky breath, and Peter did his best to write along.

They had been on their way home along Lexington Avenue when Mrs Johnson had first lost sight of her daughter. First she thought Flora had simply seen something interesting and would return in a minute. But that hadn't happened.

Mrs Johnson had spent about half an hour searching the entire area before returning home in the hopes that maybe Flora had gone there on her own--to no avail. A few hours after Flora's disappearance, she had contacted the police, only to be turned away.

It had been a day by now, her husband and neighbours all aiding in her search, and Mrs Johnson had gone to the last place she had heard of for proper help: in other news, Peter.

Peter had seen lots of gruesome things in his life, and while very few of those involved children, they were the first thing to come to his mind. Especially Ellis Island. It had been a decade, by now, but...

Still, he put on his most serious yet calming expression.

"Lexington Avenue?" he asked.

Mrs Johnson nodded and sniffled. Peter handed her a tissue, but she waved him off and pulled out her own.

"I'll begin the search immediately. I will contact you if I have any more questions or when I find Flora."

Mrs Johnson nodded and swallowed. Then she set her jaw and stood up. "Thank you, Mr Parker."

"Don't thank me yet," Peter said with the slightest hint of a smile, despite the growing worry curling in his chest, and walked her to the door.

He only returned to get his coat and notepad before following right after--he had no time to lose.

-----

Lexington Avenue was bustling at this time of day. Peter looked around.

He was standing in the exact same place Mrs Johnson had described when she had noticed Flora missing.

There were no visible signs, of course not. How might a child go missing, though, and why?

Children were curious. She could have easily wandered off and gotten lost. And then what?

Peter should probably give the closest police station a visit before anything else. But since he was here, he might as well question some of the people who might have seen anything. Shop owners, the people at Pete's Tavern just a bit down the road--it was worth a shot, at least.

The shops all turned out to be failures. Peter pushed open the door to the bar--one last stop before he paid the coppers a visit.

There weren't many people inside at this time of day, but Peter could hear a few hushed conversations. Two men were at the bar, one sitting on a stool, the other wiping a glass down. They went silent the moment Peter entered, eyeing him closely.

Peter knew whom to ask first of all.

"Excuse me," Peter said, striding over to them with the most confidence he could put into his steps, stopping just a bit closer to them than would have been polite. "Where you here yesterday, too?"

"Why are you asking?" the man sitting at the bar demanded.

"Yeah," the man behind it said.

"I'm looking for a girl. About this tall, nine, African American, you seen her?"

The men exchanged a look. It was only for a second, but Peter saw it anyways.

"No," the sitting man said.

"Maybe," the bartender said.

Interesting. Most interesting.

Peter kept his face straight and stared at them.

Finally, the bartender sighed and extended his hand. "Pete Baines. I own the place."

Peter shook it. "Peter Parker."

Pete Baines grinned widely, his stance opening visibly, while the other man grumbled into his drink and half turned away.

"Ah, another Pete! Well then, perhaps I can help you. What did you want again?"

Either Pete Baines was very fond of people sharing his name, or he was a very good actor and dangerous, and be it only because he knew something he didn't want to tell.

Peter returned the smile, albeit slightly strained. "A black girl. Nine years, curly hair, yesterday around noon."

Pete Baines scratched his head. "Well, no, doesn't really ring a bell. Does it, Will?"

Will made a sound akin to a negative, without ever turning.

"Are you sure?" Peter needled. "Her mother was sure she'd seen her wander around here. Can I have a look around at least?"

Will snarled another incomprehensible thing. Pete Baines made it a show of thinking. "Well, no. We don't really get little girls here, now do we, Will? No, I'd have noticed. Sure I'll show a fellow Pete around though, eh?"

Wonderful. Now Peter just had to watch out which parts Pete Baines tried to keep him away from and go there.

Unfortunately, Pete Baines didn't try to keep Peter away from anywhere. Peter was allowed to freely sniff around the entire bar room, including behind the bar. He listened closely to his steps, but even with his enhanced hearing, nothing sounded hollow. They went to the backrooms, too. Will looked promisingly critical at this, but... nothing.

Nothing.

Peter firmly set his jaw and tried not to let his irritation show, even as the back office and several storage rooms turned out to be entirely clean, at least as far as Peter could tell. And he had gotten good at recognising these kinds of things.

And then. And then. Finally.

It was just a broom closet. It was cramped, but not as dusty as Peter would have expected. And, most importantly, Pete Baines moved into the way. It was the first room he entered before Peter, and he put himself right in front of a crate.

Wonderful. Now, should Peter let him know that he knew...?

Who was he kidding. He didn't have any time to dawdle. He needed to find Flora.

"Let me see that," he demanded.

Pete Baines furrowed his brows, but his smile didn't waver. "Yes, of course. Why?"

Peter ignored him and knelt down besides the crate. The lid was brandished with an odd symbol; Peter had the feeling that he'd seen it before somewhere.

The crate itself was empty, save for a thick layer of dust inside.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Peter breathed out slowly and quietly. Then he pulled out his camera and took a picture--just in case. It would take a while to develop these photos, but he could check the library for anything with that symbol later.

Then again, he didn't have time. In the case of missing people--especially children--he couldn't wait for even one second.

"Well, thank you," Peter said and straightened his coat.

Pete Baines sent him another smile, but it was thinner than before. "I hope you find what you're looking for, pally."

Peter just nodded. He strode right past Pete Baines and back outside; a goodbye was probably overrated by now.

Pete Baines said nothing. But when Peter passed through the actual bar again, Will glared at him well until he was gone--and apparently it was even enough to set off Peter's spider sense.

-----

Peter headed for the library next. Developing the film would take too long--longer than he was willing to wait, anyways. He had been too late too often. Way too often. Not this time, not again.

Once at the library, he... had a problem. Where to start looking?

He found a librarian and a pencil to sketch the symbol to the best of his abilities.

"This might have been an old sigil," she told him and led him down the rows of shelves. "If you find it, I'd love to hear--where did you come across it, anyway?"

Peter shrugged. "Just an old crate in a pub somewhere." He took the proffered book. "Thank you."

Then he found a quiet corner to read the brick of a book that was this lexicon of old gods and hoped that it wouldn't be a huge waste of time.

The book was old. And bulky. Even flipping through every page quickly, only glancing at the sigils, he was making very little progress. Of course, some sigils were close to his drawing and he couldn't rule them out, so he also had to properly read four greatly varying articles and copy the most important details into his notebook.

There was a child missing. He should be doing something, something--

Peter flipped another page and this was it.

This was the sigil from that crate.

Florecae. Goddess of flowers, growth and health.

He had heard that name before. He knew he'd heard that name before. But where...?

Of course. Of course. He was a damn twit. He could have known that where sigils and Gods were involved, the Legion of Darkness was his best bet.

And the chances were good that they still had their base in that building down at the docks...

Maybe it was time for Peter to get out the suit once again. Lack of time certainly called for more drastic measures like that.

If he was lucky (and hadn't entirely unlearned how to swing), he might even make it into his suit and to the docks within half an hour.

-----

The Legion of Darkness was, for lack of a better description, a joke.

Peter had run into them before, years ago, when the Spider was still needed. They were neither a lot of people, nor very threatening. Their intentions had always been on par with the name, though--and whether they did or did not succeed in raising an ancient God was irrelevant with a child's life in danger.

The rhythm of swinging past the buildings still came easy to Peter, even though he had changed a lot. He'd become a private dick, and gotten a cat, and let the Spider disappear, and even the Spider God left him alone most of the time. Even the nightmares had gotten fewer.

And yet, the moment that mask hid his face and his coat billowed in the wind as he rushed past the highest of buildings, so far above the street, it was as if all these years of living a relatively normal life didn't matter anymore. His movements were as fluid as back then, despite the age difference. His joints bent too far from one swing to the next, and the apple's smell was unusually sharp. This high up, hardly anything could harm him.

He was the Spider, and if anyone dared to touch that little girl, they were going to regret it.

Along with a slightly saltier, tangy scent in the air, the docks came into view. Peter returned to the solid rooftops, running and jumping too easily and too far for a human.

One of these buildings now must have been the one. No, this one. He was standing on it.

He set his hands down and crawled down the side of the building, but from the looks of it, none of the windows were open. Well, that was... not ideal.

Peter looked at the window below him. The room behind it was dark and seemingly empty. Ah, well, he already knew his spider-sense was still sharp.

He drew his arm back and smashed the glass. Without hesitation, he swung inside right after the shards and crouched down inside the room.

It was empty, as expected, but otherwise, too, entirely bare. No furniture, no proper floor, not even a single proper lamp.

That didn't matter. He was here to find out where the girl was being kept.

The door of the room stood open. The hallway past it was equally deserted and dark. The closer he came to said door, the stronger his spider-sense prickled in the back of his neck. There was no imminent, immediate danger, but something here was very, very wrong.

Peter laid one hand onto the handle of his gun and scanned the hallway in both directions, before turning left. His steps were silent, but his breath sounded louder for it.

He couldn't risk being noticed, not before he got what he came for.

All the rooms setting off from the hallway appeared silent even to Peter's enhanced senses. Had the Legion relocated...? No, they still had their name written on the front door, in fresh paint. (Peter honestly wasn't sure what they were trying to achieve with that, but he wasn't complaining. If it wasn't a trap--but he'd notice in time. Hopefully.)

Okay. He was still on the top floor. He'd check out the floors below and then search more thoroughly--that was probably the fastest option.

Peter had barely reached the first landing when he heard a commotion.

"No, no! I don't want to!" a girl shrieked.

"But Flora is such a pretty name. You'd be just perfect--"

Peter had no intentions of finding out who was talking or what the girl was perfect for. He jumped to the ceiling, where people wouldn't aim first of all when drilling and crawled after those voices. He didn't like not having his guns in hand, but he couldn't risk shooting before locating Flora.

"Come on," the adult voice coaxed, possibly a woman. "Be a good little girl and--"

The door wasn't locked, so Peter threw it open and fired his webs by instinct alone.

A split-second later, he could properly make out the scene: the room had been two rooms, the wall between them crudely brought down. Right in the middle, someone had drawn Florecae's sigil with white paint and in the centre of said sigil--

"Let go of me!" Flora cried out, tears spilling down her face, her kinky hair in wild disarray.

A woman stood half bent over her. She had greenish-white skin, bright hair and--

A sharp pang shot through Peter's skull and he dropped down onto the floor. He could still feel the bullet zipping past him but he turned mid-fall and threw webbing right back. Yelling started up and more guns were being fired.

Peter had to end this, fast, before Flora got hit by a stray bullet. It was too easy to get back into the flow of evading bullets based on instinct alone. It was maybe ten goons, likely members of the Legion of Darkness. Their aim hadn't gotten all that much better. Duck, run, jump--and with a kick to the jaw, the goon crumpled to the ground. Jump, run along the ceiling, shoot--another one down for the count. The energy of the fight was cursing through Peter's limbs, heightening his senses and the smell of gun powder. It had been a while since he'd been able to let loose, let his spidery side take over and ruthlessly beat a bunch of brunos to pulp, and it almost felt good. They were done for quickly.

Peter dropped back onto even ground and turned towards Flora and the woman.

Both were watching him. Flora was still crying, hugging herself.

The woman tilted her head. A smile, too wide for a human mouth, with too many needle-sharp teeth, greeted Peter. Her eyes were bright blue like the sky on an exceptionally clear day and sparkling almost as warmly as the sun. She had too many of them.

"See?" the woman asked with a voice that wasn't very loud anymore at all, but piercing right through Peter's head. "This is a totem. Does it look sad to you?"

Peter grit his teeth. The voice wasn't just piercing, it was literally inside his head--she hadn't spoken on a physical plane. And the woman wasn't even anything close to a woman. Not a human altered by queer magic--no, she was Florecae herself.

Don't listen to her, Peter tried to say, but his voice wouldn't carry, no sound crossing his lips. He couldn't move. He looked down, only to see colourful, blooming vines creeping up his legs. Why hadn't his spider-sense warned him? How hadn't he noticed--

Focus. He needed to focus.

Flora, listen to me. Your mother asked me to search for you. I'll get you out of here, I promise, just don't listen to her. Whatever she wants you to do, don't.

Peter's words stayed silent, but Flora suddenly looked up, directly at him, as if she'd heard him anyways.

"Don't bother," Florecae said, her eyes blazing until her features were unrecognisable beyond the light. It made his eyes water to look at her any longer. Was she getting stronger...?

The light travelled from her face down her torso, illuminating more and more of the room in what might have been sunlight, hadn't it been so damn bright. Florecae's feet lifted from the ground, thick vines and varieties of flowers spreading from where she had stood.

"You are too late, Spider," Florecae exclaimed and her voice came from everywhere around and echoed inside Peter's skull painfully. His entire body was on fire, whether because of her presence or his own spider-sense going nuts, he couldn't tell. "She will be my totem, my sacrifice to walk this plane once more. Surrender now, or be destroyed."

Peter crouched down and began to undo his laces, his coat falling just right to hide it from sight--though a goddess might see regardless. Who knew? His direct personal experience with gods was limited, and Florecae was nothing like the fever dream of getting his powers. They weren't very alike, neither in manner nor appearance. Regardless, Peter wouldn't let anyone else become a God's totem; nobody deserved to go through that hell, least of all a child.

He made eye-contact with the girl. "Run!" he yelled, and the feeling of his words rippling across a surreal, godly plane of existence instead of his physical world made him want to throw up.

Flora's eyes were wide with panic as she shook her head frantically. "If I leave the circle, I'll die!" she yelled back between sobs.

Was this really...?

Peter looked at the ground more closely. He had come inside the sigil without even noticing, and the flowers and plants were restricted to exactly that sigil. Florecae wasn't able to properly touch their physical world, not yet, not without a totem. That meant she could still be stopped. If Peter could just get Flora outside of that sigil without killing her...

A thousand glass shards were piercing through Peter's brain and he could hardly contain a scream as his vision went white. Fire raced down his limbs, more glass shards lining his lung with every half-aborted breath. He could feel his teeth shifting in his mouth, could feel the fangs he had sanded down years ago grow back, lined with venom. His head pulsated. Peter's fingers curled into claws.

When he opened his eyes, they weren't his own anymore. They weren't his human eyes at all, but eight eyes that weren't tangible on this plane, lent by the very thing that still let him wake up screaming regularly. The Spider God's terrifying presence pressed down on Peter's frail, human body, both from inside and out. It would tear him apart--and stitch him back together, mercilessly.

The God's eyes could see Florecae. They could see the blinding silhouette of the physical world and her true, mind-tearing form wherever it was that Gods resided. Peter's entire being ached to recoil, hide away in a dark corner, get away before the mere sight could burn him to ashes. His eyes were watering and his mask clung to his face like a second skin, and still the Spider God's presence tore through his organs. Some of the sigil glowed even around the Goddess's true form.

Flora didn't.

Peter gasped for a breath that wouldn't come and the Spider God's presence left him as suddenly as it had come.

He leapt forwards. His boots were still held firmly in place by vines and the like, but they slipped off his feet and he sprinted towards the Goddess, towards Flora. Flora opened her mouth to a silent scream and Peter reached her, reached for her torso and pressed her against his own body as he continued to run.

Flora was small and light. She clung to Peter's arm as he adjusted her in his arms to hold her properly.

A mind-splitting screech echoed through his ears until he thought his skull would dissolve into nothingness. One more leap and they would be outside of that huge sigil--but the air seemed to thicken, slowing Peter's movements, dragging them back in.

No. He wouldn't let it. He wouldn't let anything happen to the girl, he wouldn't let Florecae win, not this time, not ever.

Peter's free hand shot out and the web attached to the wall of the room. He yanked, and they were sent flying from that choke-hold.

Air flooded Peter's lungs. Flora was still held in his arms, head buried against his neck, sobbing, alive.

He didn't have any time to waste.

"Hold on tight," he muttered as he skidded into the hallway. From behind, he could hear the sound of shattering glass. Peter ran back up the stairs where he'd come from. Somewhere below he could hear yelling, quick steps, but they were just too far away to be a danger. He found the room he had entered through and crawled right back out, into the grey-ish, natural daylight of New York City.

One roof further, Peter dared to stop. He set Flora down carefully. She looked up at him with red eyes. She didn't seem to have any bruises or other external injuries, but he'd have to check again later. For now, he still had to make sure Florecae wouldn't come after them.

"Wait here," he told Flora, even as everything inside him protested that he couldn't leave her alone, not even for a second.

Thankfully, he didn't have to move far to see that whatever had happened in there had had... consequences. He and Flora hadn't left a second too early.

The second floor from the top was on fire. The flames were licking higher and higher, and Peter could hear faint screams from inside.

Good.

He knew the only people inside had to be willing members of the Legion of Darkness. They had kidnapped a child. They got what was coming for them. Whether they got out or burned to death--it was none of Peter's business.

He turned back to Flora. She was sniffling and hugging herself, but she was no longer actively crying.

"Who are you?" she asked very, very quietly.

Peter heard her perfectly well. He crouched down to meet her eye to eye. "They called me the Spider," he said.

"The Spider hasn't been seen for years, mum says."

He nodded. "That's because it hasn't been needed that much. Listen, Flora. I'll bring you back home, like I promised, but I need you to keep a secret. Can you do that?"

She swallowed, but nodded.

Peter hesitated. "Where I'll bring you first... I usually don't want anyone to know who I am. You can't ever tell anyone."

"I won't," she said, louder this time, apparently intrigued by such a well-kept mystery.

"Okay. I'll get you to my office the fastest way I can. Do you think you can hold on to me while I swing?"

Flora smiled, barely, and very carefully, but it was probably as close to enthusiasm as she could get after being kidnapped and almost becoming a totem. Peter had her climb onto his back and hold on tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, which wasn't great for him but at least secure for her. Carefully, he crawled a little along the side of the building they were on, but Flora held on tight, and he could deal with her weight--it was barely anything.

Peter swung back home slower than usual. But the child on his back thoroughly seemed to enjoy herself, shrieking as the wind rushed past them.

"We're so high!" she yelled right into Peter's ear at some point, and she still sounded a little scared, but most of all... she sounded excited.

She would recover. She would be able to go back to her life, eventually.

Peter ended it all in a back alley close to his office. He set his feet back on the ground and pulled off his mask, suddenly awfully aware that he had left his boots behind. They had been good boots. Really good boots. And damn expensive, too. Well, after that fire...

"Your hair is really fluffy," Flora said suddenly, still holding on tightly.

She was alright. She was alive. She was safe. That was worth a pair of boots.

Once back inside his office, Peter deposited Flora on his office chair behind the desk, which she immediately began exploring, and rang Mrs Johnson. The only response to his news was a choked sob and and the end of said call, but he had hadn't expected much else.

"You mum will be here in a moment," Peter said. "Remember, I'm just your friendly neighbourhood dick. Don't got no powers, just a good nose for conspiracies."

Flora nodded seriously. "The Spider found me and brought me here. And left."

Peter made himself smile a little. He was tired and sore. He hadn't been in a fight that bad in quite a while, and the Spider God's sudden appearance hadn't helped things.

"She said you're a totem," Flora said suddenly. "Does that mean someone gave you to a God?"

Peter couldn't help a small grimace. "It was... no, not really. A spider bit me, a venomous one. But instead of dying--"

He didn't want to think about it, all the vivid details that wouldn't ever stop haunting him as long as he lived.

"What's it like? Who's your god?"

Peter began sifting through some old papers, if only to have his hands moving. "The Spider God gave me my powers, but it also... well, it's... I've been able to help people. But it's not nice. If you can help it, stay far away from gods."

"No, I definitely want to see more of them now," Flora drawled in a surprising burst of sarcasm.

Peter chuckled. "Let me just get you some city juice and then we make sure you're not hurt, okay?"

Flora hesitated. "Don't leave."

"I won't."

-----

Mrs Johnson didn't even bother with knocking, and Peter couldn't fault her for it. She immediately rushed towards Flora and scooped her up into a tight hug. Flora buried her face in her mother's chest.

Mrs Johnson looked up again after a moment; only her eyes were a little shiny. She tried to smile at Peter. "How can I ever--"

"It's quite alright," Peter cut her off, "as long as you and your daughter are safe." He looked at them. "I don't need money, either," he decided on a whim. He could get by well enough already.

"If you ever need anything, Mr Parker, if it's within my power..."

He nodded. "The most you can do is stay safe, Mrs Johnson. Please."

She inclined her head. "You are a good man. Thank you."

Peter almost wanted to scoff, but he made himself smile instead.

"The Spider saved me!" Flora exclaimed suddenly, just as Mrs Johnson turned to leave.

"Oh? Did he?"

"Uh-huh. He wasn't so scary." The girl nodded and looked over her mother's shoulder right at Peter.

He winked and put a finger against his lips.

She almost giggled and returned the motion.

The girl was safe now.

But Peter would go out this night again, despite his tiredness, and hunt down whatever was left of the Legion of Darkness.

He may have gotten a little inactive, but whoever messed with children would still have to answer to him.

----------

I hope you enjoyed, even though some parts may have been a bit rushed! I did get it out within the same year you asked lmao. Thanks for the prompt, anon. I sincerely hope you see and enjoy this.

#spider-man noir #peter benjamin parker #spider-man fanfic #my writing #asks #im absolutely still open for fic asks and stuff im just. veeeeery slow on them #and if the prompt is very vague my brain will run in circles until the plot is running away from me on very long legs #....... in my defense its past 1am and i just wrote the last 2-3k words in one sitting. plus editing it. until right now. LMAO

[trumanbluee]

welcome to my blog!! 🎀

about me !!

hii !! i'm gracie, im 17! im a huge swiftie and the 1975 is my favourite band, but im a huge fangirl overall!!!

i'll write for;

matty healy

peter parker (insomniac or tasm!)

remus lupin

the marauders

masterlist:

* means there is smut / nsfw material !!!

matty healy

an encounter - matty healy *

the only time i feel i might get better - matty healy *

if its not with you (part one) - matty healy *

marauders

how you get the girl - remus lupin

about time - james potter (req)

#gracie's nav! #gracie's masterlist #matty healy fanfic #matty healy #the 1975 #marauders #remus lupin #moony #peter parker x reader #spider-man fanfic #marauders fanfic #the 1975 fanfic #james potter #sirius black #marauders oneshot #matty healy oneshot #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #matty healy imagine #the 1975 imagine

[amberlynnmurdock]

Lost and Found Chapter 2

Summary: While chemistry is not your favorite subject, at least this class seems promising. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader 

Genre: Fluff 

Chapter 2: Chemistry 

A/N: I watched No Way Home again and got all in my Peter Parker feels. I hope to consistently update this story for you because I really want to tell it. Enjoy :)

Archive of our Own Link 

“All right, class. Remember these seats because these will be your seats for the rest of the semester, and the person you are sitting next to is your lab partner,” Dr. Connors announces before starting his lecture. You were lucky to pick the back row and the back seat. It was a preference of yours.

And it was lucky that Peter Parker ended up sitting next to you. You wrote your name and date at the top of your notebook, ready to take notes. Peter nudges your arm. You look at him.

“This coffee is really good,” he whispers. Your heartbeat picks up in your chest as you smile.

“I’m shocked you’re still drinking it,” you whisper back.

Peter shrugs and takes a sip, “I–uh–had to do some errands before class and got distracted.”

As the class went on, you noticed how fast Peter takes his notes. It was like everything Dr. Connors said about something boring about chemistry, Peter wrote it down verbatim. If you missed something Dr. Connors said, all you had to do was look over at Peter’s notes, which he gladly shared.

“Some of these things Dr. Connors didn’t even write,” you say out loud, “how’d you know all this stuff?”

“Well, I’m a science and biology major,” Peter says sheepishly. You feel silly. Other people are here for their majors, not just gen-ed requirements like you!

“Oh, well, I got really lucky then, huh?” You laugh.

“What’s your major?” Peter asks.

“English,” you tell him.

“Well, I suck at English,” Peter says, “maybe we can help each other out.”

“I’d like that,” you reply. “Do you live on campus?”

Peter shakes his head, “no, just at an apartment off-campus. It’s not too far from here. Housing was too expensive and my scholarship didn’t cover dorm fees.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you reply, “but that’s cool you already have a place. Are you from the city?”

Peter is silent for a moment. “Yes. Queens.”

“Really?! Me too,” you say to him. “What high school did you go to? I feel like I would’ve seen you.”

“I was homeschooled,” Peter tells you, “I didn’t go out much.”

“I see,” you reply.

“Parker!” Dr. Connors shouts. “Are two atoms of the same element identical?”

Peter clears his throat. You look at him.

“No, sir,” Peter answers, “two atoms can react differently if they are in different states.”

Dr. Connors slowly nods his head. “Just making sure you’re paying attention.”

Peter looks at you and gives you a shrug. It’s silly, it’s charming. You can’t help but stifle your laughter. Peter laughs, too.

~

After class, Peter walks you outside.

“Do you have another class?” Peter asks, scratching the back of his head.

“I do. A class that is actually related to my major. American Poetry,” you say.

“Oh, okay. I don’t, but can I walk you to your class?” He asks. You nod your head.

“Sure. It’s this way.”

You and Peter walk in tandem through NYU’s campus. It’s nearly 4 pm. It’s starting to get dark out earlier now that fall is on its arrival. The leaves are starting to change color and the air is getting cooler. You and Peter don’t say much save for the small comment on how cold it’s getting, and when you’d be working at the coffee shop again.

You and Peter arrived at the English building. You stop at the front door and turn to Peter.

“This is it,” you say, “thank you for walking with me.”

“Of course,” Peter says. He smiles, but something is in it that you can’t quite figure out. His warm brown eyes hold yours. He’s holding his notebook in his hand still. The veins on his hands stick out. You notice a purplish bruise on his knuckle.

“I’ll see you around?” You offer.

“I hope so,” Peter says. “Can I… maybe get your phone number? Maybe we can study together for chem or… American Poetry,” Peter says with a shy smile. You smile in return and nod your head.

“I’ll write it down for you,” you tell him. You graciously take his notepad and pen, scribbling the numbers down fast because you don't want to be late for class.

“Text me,” you say, meeting his eyes again. His gaze never left your face. You blush, realizing this.

“I will,” Peter states, like a promise. “You work tomorrow?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ll be back for more maple pumpkin.”

“I’ll have it ready for you, how about that?” You smile.

“Enjoy class, ___,” Peter says.

Peter turns on his heel and walks the way the two of you came. You watch as his shrinking figure disappears. Finally, you head inside.

~

Peter Parker doesn’t have class the rest of the day, which means there is more time for him to do his part-time job.

He rushes to his apartment. Instead of taking the stairs, Peter finds the back alley of the building and shoots a web at his window. He doesn’t have much time.

He opens the window to his apartment and smoothly slides in the window, shutting it closed behind him. Peter rips off his jacket, shirt, and pants and changes into his red and bright blue suit.

Taking his police station phone from his bedside drawer, he sits on his bed with his mask hanging from his lips as he listens for… anything. His heart is racing, the adrenaline is pumping. It’s been so much easier for him to fight crime at night now that no one knows Spider-Man’s identity anymore. No one knows him, which means no one has to worry, or ask questions.

Peter has gotten used to living in the shadows, living a quiet life. After passing his GED test with flying colors, it was time for college admissions. The dream of MIT died long ago. Peter came to realize New York City will forever and always be his home. It only made sense to go to school here, too. Plus, NYU gave him a scholarship he couldn’t pass up.

Police dash: we’ve got a disturbance at Times Square, a man with a weapon threatening tourists.

Peter pulls his mask over his head, and dashes for the window again.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man #spiderman #spider-man no way home #tom holland #tom holland x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #sony #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #spider-man fanfic #spider-man imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman fanfic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

[enough-spider-noir-stuff]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Noir, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jean DeWolfe & Peter Benjamin Parker | Spider-Man Noir Characters: Jean DeWolfe, (NOT DeWolff. i appreciate y'all tag wranglers but they're separate), Peter Benjamin Parker | Spider-Man Noir, Original Characters Additional Tags: the usual shenanigans, no beta we die like random hand person, very short allusions to blood and violence (nothing graphic), Misunderstandings, Spiders and Peppermint, Attempt at Humor Series: Part 2 of What's Black is White; Assorted Fics Summary:

Jean read up on spiders and their apparent dislike for peppermint. Maybe it works on Peter, too? His colleagues are confused, as usual.

#i wrote my concept can i hear a wahoo #peter benjamin parker #spider-man noir #jean dewolfe #marvel noir #spider-man fanfic #my fics

[lowkeyed1]

Got a WIP you abandoned that you’d like to share a snippet from? Even if you don’t plan on finishing it.

thanks for the ask! i actually did start an MCU Spider-Man story a few months ago and then kind of got distracted, so this is just a rough draft, but here you go <3 -----

Peter stood outside the ritzy apartment building, and took a deep breath. He’d been putting this off as long as he could, but he couldn’t any longer. Flash hadn’t been in school all week, and now they had a group project. He had to at least talk to him about it, and since his apartment wasn’t that far from Stark Tower, it just made sense to go do it in person. He had a feeling if he texted, Flash would just leave him on read anyway.

The doorman opened the door for him. Peter smiled uncomfortably and said thank you, walking through and stopping short. Of course Flash lived in a place fancy enough to have a desk person. He sighed and walked up. “Um. I’m Peter? I have a class with Flash, I mean, Eugene Thompson? I have some schoolwork for him.” The concierge looked at him doubtfully, and picked up the phone. “Hello, I have a classmate of young Mr. Thompson here with some homework for him. Yes? All right. Thank you!” She pursed her lips and indicated the elevator on the right. “Thirty-seventh floor,” she said. “Thank you,” Peter said, bobbing his head and moving in the indicated direction. He waited for the elevator, nervously clutching at his backpack straps. He could feel the woman at the desk watching him with disapproval. Finally the elevator came, and when he disembarked he was surprised to find himself in a fancy little foyer with small decorative tables and just one door. Did the Thompsons live on the entire 37th floor? Crazy. He stepped forward and rang the bell. A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman answered the door and sized him up. Peter’s eyes widened at the large double staircase behind her. Flash’s family lived on two floors, apparently. “You’re Eugene’s friend? His bedroom is up the stairs, down that hall, second door on the right.” He bobbed his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.” She laughed. “I’m just the housekeeper, kid.” Her smile was kind. “Go on.” Peter nodded again, his face flaming, and climbed the stairs. Everything was gleaming marble and polished metal and so fancy-looking he was almost afraid to breathe too hard. When he reached what he hoped was the right door, he steeled himself and knocked. After a moment the door opened, and Flash looked at him with shock. “Parker? What the fuck are you doing here?” Peter stared back. Flash had a large dark bruise high on one cheekbone, a faded purple that spoke to it being a much uglier color a few days prior. In his line of work, Peter knew about bruising. “What happened to your face?” he blurted. Flash flinched, one hand half-rising to his face before he dropped it. “Fell down,” he said, his voice light and nonchalant. “I repeat, what the fuck are you doing here?”

#spider-man fanfic #mcu spider-man

[bicycle4two]

spider-man fics

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

all posted on old fic account

multi-chapter

it’s hard when you’re young (discontinued) 

CHAPTERS 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20 || 21 || 22 || 23 || 24 ...

you’re amazing, you’re spectacular (discontinued) 

1 || 2 …

one-shot

two kids, no consequences 

old masterlist

#masterlist #spider-man #spider-man fanfic #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker you #peter parker x you #peter parker reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spider-man imagine #spiderman imagine #mcu spiderman

[starlordsandrockets]

Snowed In

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

Word Count: 4.4k

summary: Your plans to return home for the holidays were ruined by a snow storm. Now, you found yourself spending Christmas with Peter, the neighbor you had a crush on.

a/n: Many apologizes for the wait, I started this fic months ago to ‘get ahead’ but here we are lol... I’ve been super sick as of recent so if some of my writing doesn’t make sense, I apologize and will proofread it after a nap, lol.

Peter watched the snow fall outside his apartment window as he heard the sound of heavy boots climbing back up the stairs. Your groan hummed through the building’s thin walls. Slowly, he made his way to his apartment’s door. Placing his hand on the handle, he swung the door open, eyes shut. Opening his eyes, he took in the sight of you.

You pulled your gloves off of your hands awkwardly from where they were tucked into your large, black coat. You were laughing under your breath, however, your laugh stemmed from frustration.

“You… okay?” Peter finally questioned, announcing his presence. He watched you jump before slowly turning your head.

“P-Peter,” You stuttered, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment. Your handsome neighbor now leaned against the doorframe of his apartment. A, clearly thrifted, sweater sat over a black shirt that peaked out from the neckline, “Yeah- Yeah I’m fine,” You dug into your purse, attempting to find your keys, “I just planned to head to my parent’s tonight- you know, for Christmas,” You watched him nod, taking in the luggage that sat at your feet, “But I’m snowed in and alone,”

Peter took in a deep breath, holding it. He knew you had no idea about what he went through and that your claim was harmless, however, it still hurt, “Yeah… me too,”

“You were going to your parents?” You questioned, not knowing anything about your neighbor, besides the fact that you had the biggest crush on him.

As soon as you heard that you had someone living across the hall, you just had to sneak a peek. You had your hopes up for a friend, or at least anyone besides an old man. To your surprise, it was Peter, and you found yourself hopelessly falling for him in a heartbeat.

“I, I actually don’t have parents,” Peter spoke, “I mean, I did- obviously,” He rambled, “They died and I lived with my Aunt but a year ago, she…” He still could not bear to finish that sentence.

“I-I’m sorry-” You turned back towards your door, “I should leave you alone now,” You laughed, “I didn’t mean to…” You stuck your retrieved keys into your door, “Have a nice night,” You shut the door behind yourself, leaving your luggage in the hall, far too embarrassed to retrieve it. Not until he left the hallway.

You stood there, back pressed against the door, sweating in your winter coat. You were an idiot- a bitch even. Why the hell did you ask him that? I mean, it was not like you knew. But on Christmas Eve, that was a new low for you. There was no way Peter could ever like you now.

Peter wanted to hit his head against the old, landlord painted door frame. Why did he say that to you? You were already upset that you could not see your family, so why did he make it about him? You did not even bother to grab your luggage, you would rather just get away from him. Peter debated turning around and just escaping into the cold night to get his mind off of you, however, he was afraid your things would get stolen from the hallway. 

That is when he heard your door creak open. He watched your head poke out from behind the white door, “Jesus Chri-” You gasped. Peter wondered just how long he had been standing there thinking about you.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke, “I just didn’t want someone walking off with your things,”

“Thanks,” You replied, your voice quiet. Reaching out, you watched as Peter stepped closer to you.

“Here-” Peter picked up your bags effortlessly, “I can get them- I didn’t mean to just dump all that on you before- About my family,”

“No- No! I’m the one who brought it up,” You stuttered, “It’s my fault and it’s almost Christmas and I was being an asshole-”

“Did you want to spend the night with me?” Peter questioned, interrupting your sentence, “I mean- Christmas- Christmas Eve and Christmas! Not like spend the night like-”

“Yes,” You replied, “I mean- Yeah, sure,”

”Cool cool,” Peter spoke through his nerves, “But uh- could we actually stay in your apartment?”

”M-Mine?” You questioned, staring back at your handsome neighbor.

”Yeah mines…” Peter trailed off. He really did not want you to find his suit, or his web shooters, or his scrap fabric from his suit, “I don’t really have much furniture, or food, or- well really anything,”

“Sure,” You nodded, “Yeah- yeah no problem,” You held your door open, allowing him to slip by with your luggage in hand, “Sorry if it’s kind of messy, I haven’t really been up to doing anything once I get home from work,” You were rambling nervously.

Peter took in your small apartment. It was much more decorated than his and it made him feel at home. He had always wondered what your apartment looked like every time he passed by you in the lobby or hallway, “It’s nice,”

“Yeah?” You laughed nervously.

”Yeah,” He spoke, “You have a couch and a bed,” He emphasized, watching you laugh. Your smile turned his stomach. He always thought you were pretty, beautiful even, and he never thought he would ever be in your apartment; Peter was surprised he even worked up the courage to talk to you.

“I’m sure you’re apartment isn’t that bad,” You responded.

“I don’t know, I’m kind of broke,” Peter shrugged, setting your bags down at the end of your bed. He studied the few stuffed animals that sat on your bed. A quilt was tossed on top of your bedsheets in an artfully messy way.

The old building’s poor insulation allowed a chill to hang in the room each time the wind blew outside. Peter’s head turned towards your window, “I was planning on taking a nice train ride home on the Amtrak,” You began to strip yourself of your warm outer layers, leaving yourself in a new sweater that you had bought recently. Part of you was glad you had no way out of Queens because now you were spending Christmas with the neighbor who you had a crush on since the day you moved in. And that is when you fully processed that Peter Parker was spending the night in your apartment, “I need a drink,” You spoke aloud to yourself.

Peter laughed at you quiet claim, watching you turn to look at him, “Sorry,”

”No, no-“ You stuttered, “Do, Do you want some? Spiked eggnog? Spiked coffee?” He watched you moved into the kitchen, watching as you began to make yourself a cup of coffee.

“Coffee’s good,” Peter answered, “Whatever you’re having is fine,”

“Right,” You spoke, “Sure,” You gave him a weak smile as you felt your cheeks heat up due to your nervousness. Peter now moved towards you, entering the kitchen.

Peter studied you as your back faced him. He felt his heart race slightly as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, “Need help?” He questioned, watching you jump slightly, “Sorry,” Without a thought, he reached out, placing his hand on the small of your back. You froze in his grasp, the sound of the coffee machine brewing filled the kitchen.

Your heart was beating in your ears as Peter’s hand lingered a bit longer. The coffee maker began to spit hot coffee into your mug, allowing you a few more moments to collect yourself. As soon as the humming stopped you spoke, “Fine- It’s fine,” Peter’s hand fell back to his side. He watched as you reached up towards a tall cabinet. Your fingertips pressed against the glass of the large bottle of vodka.

“Here,” Peter spoke, reaching out. The front of his body pressed against your arm, making you jump. He watched as the bottle tipped, your fingers leaving the bottle’s surface. Instantly he caught it before it could fall towards you, “Careful,”

“Sorry,” You spoke, “Thanks,” You watched as he set the bottle on your small countertop. You studied his hands, his fingers were long and slender. The sight made your stomach flutter slightly as you longed for them to fall against your skin once again. Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, you poured the liquor into the black coffee, “Uh-“ You cleared your throat silently at the sound of your own awkward voice, “Sugar’s on the counter and the creamer’s in the fridge,” You pushed the mug towards your smiling neighbor, “I have peppermint mocha and hazelnut I think,”

“Coool,” Peter’s lips drew out, he moved towards the refrigerator although his eyes stayed on you. He watched you prepare another cup of coffee, your hands fumbling while completing the task. Finally grabbing a creamer, Peter studied it in his hand before closing the fridge. Pouring the cream into the black coffee, he watched the colors swirl as he grew lost in thoughts of you.

You turned your head, watching Peter stare into his cup. That is when you realized you forgot to tell him where the utensils were, “Sorry-“ You spoke, heading towards the drawer of utensils. Grabbing a spoon you held it out, in his line of sight, “Sorry,”

“What?” He questioned, snapping out of his thoughts his eyes fell to you.

“Here, to stir your coffee,” You informed him.

“Right,” Peter took the metal from your hands, watching you give him a weak smile before you grabbed the other cup that had finished brewing. You weaved around him in the small kitchen and it made his heart flutter slightly. Something about it felt comforting and it made him feel complete.

You returned to Peter’s side with creamer in hand, “What kind did you put in?” You questioned, watching Peter stir his coffee. Your eyes caught the shining metal as he brought it to his lips. His lips parted, as he placed the warm metal against his tongue, catching some dripping coffee.

“Hmm?” He hummed around the spoon, “Oh,” Peter muttered, the word freeing his once occupied mouth, “Hazelnut,” He answered. Without a thought, Peter placed the spoon into your mug. He watched you stiffen for a moment, unsure as to why, “Thanks for the coffee,”

“Y-Yeah,” Your eyes left the spoon’s handle and met Peter’s eyes. His warm brown eyes mimicked the swirling coffee that sat between the two of you, “You… want to watch something?” He nodded, lips around the ceramic mug, “The remotes on the coffee table. If you want to look for something to watch,”

“Sure,” Peter smiled, leaving the small kitchen and heading towards your couch.

You waited, hearing his cushioned footsteps cross onto the carpet of your living room. With your back facing him, you stirred your coffee slowly before taking out the warm spoon. You stared at the metal, your distorted reflection staring back at you as you recalled Peter’s lips around the handle. Then, you brought the same spoon towards your lips. The metal passed your lips, caressing your tongue as it did Peter’s moments before.

Did that make you a freak? You would take the indirect kiss in a heartbeat. You could only hope that Peter did not see your desperate action.

Replacing the spoon with the edge of your cup, you took a large sip of the hot coffee, “It’s A Wonderful Life?” You heard Peter question from the couch.

“Hmm?” You hummed, being pulled out of your thoughts of him. Turning your head, you studied the tv, “Oh- No, too sad,” You watched Peter’s head turn away from your gaze, “If we’re drinking, I’ll cry. Plus that movie is so long,”

“We have all night,” Peter reminded you, “Unless you’re trying to kick me out,” He laughed, hoping you still wanted to spend the night with him.

“No- No, I’m not,” You walked to the couch, taking a seat next to him, “I just, I really don’t want to cry in front of you. Please,” You laughed into your coffee.

“Fine,” Peter continued to scroll on your tv, “Elf?”

“A classic,” You responded, “Sure,” Staring into the cup, you drank the rest of the spiked drink, “Do you want more?” You asked, looking at Peter’s, half empty cup.

“I’m good,” Peter smiled up at you as you rose to your feet.

“Cooool,” You drew out, “I’ll be back then,” Turning, you visibly cringed at yourself. The movie began to play. Taking the bottle, you eyeballed a shot of vodka and poured it into your empty cup. Bringing it to your lips, you swallowed it, wincing slightly before you prepared yourself another spiked cup.

“I don’t remember the credits being so lonnnng,” Peter called out to you over the movie.

“I do,” You smiled to yourself, “That’s why I’m making another cup now,” Your gaze locked onto Peter as you saw him jump up from the couch, “What are you-“

“Do you have hot cocoa?” Peter questioned with a slight bounce in his step. He watched as a smile threatened to curl your lips, “What?”

“Nothing,” You tried to play off.

“Tell me,” Peter groaned, placing his cup on the counter that sat in front of you, “Y/N,” Your name left his voice in a whining tone. He leaned on the counter next to you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“You- You say hot cocoa,” You spoke, giving in due to his close proximity.

“And what do you say?” His eyes studied the side of your face as you refused to meet his eyes.

You felt as the shot began to affect you, making you mentally curse. You waited for the coffee maker to begin brewing, however it was taking far too long, allowing an awkward silence to fall between the two of you, “Hot chocolate,” You informed, looking at Peter out of the corner of your eyes.

Peter stood next to you with a stupid grin on his stupidly handsome face and it made you want to scream. You thought that the alcohol would help you survive the night with him, but now you were second guessing yourself.

“Hot chocolate,” Peter spoke, imitating your voice, “Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Nope,” You answered, moving past Peter and towards the fridge, “Sorry,” You listened to him groan. He headed towards the couch, pausing the movie, “What are you?”

“I’m going to get some cocoa from the corner store,” Peter spoke, heading towards your apartment’s door.

“But the snow,”

“I…” Peter dug through his head for an excuse, “I’ll be super quick, don’t worry- I use the fire escape,”

“The fire escape?” You questioned, a laugh lacing your tone, “You’re insane. No, I’ll just go with you,”

“No- No trust me,” Peter spoke, “Stay here and… get some blankets for the movie,” He watched you stare back at him, “Do you need anything? From the store?”

“Just ‘hot cocoa’,” You somewhat mocked, watching Peter throw you a playful look.

“Yeah, you’re not coming with me,” Peter smiled before heading through the door.

You watched as he closed the door behind him, listening to the sound of his door unlocking from the hallway. A deep breath passed through your nose and into your lungs, feeling your shoulders relax.

Your fingers fell against the fabric of your sweater as you looked at the paused movie on your tv screen. Remembering Peter’s words, you headed towards a closet that you kept your spare blankets in. Pulling out a large blanket, you paused, realizing you would probably die from shock if you shared a blanket with him. Throwing the large blanket onto the couch, you retrieved a second, smaller one.

You turned on the lights of your small tree that was tucked into a corner of the room. More sets of string lights lit up that lined a few surfaces of your apartment. Staring out at the city through your window, you studied the heavy snow that fell, wondering how Peter’s trip was to the corner store. Dimming the lights, you allowed the string lights and street lights to provide a calmer ambiance.

Walking past a mirror, you studied your reflection. You should probably touch up your makeup and change into something more comfortable.

Gathering some loungewear, you entered your small bathroom to change. Setting the plush fabric on the closed toilet, you removed your sweater and jeans. Staring at your reflection, you slipped a pair of fuzzy brown pants over your black underwear. The alcohol that ran through your system convinced you to slip the matching cardigan over your bralette, showing a little skin under your cozy loungewear.

Leaning in closer to the mirror, you studied your light makeup a little closer. However, you were unable to reach for your makeup bag, hearing someone coming through your front door.

Opening the bathroom door, you peered through the opening. You hoped it was Peter and not a total stranger walking through the unlocked door. Your gaze looked onto Peter as he carried two small bags with him, “That was fast,”

“I told you,” He smiled, closing the door behind him with his foot, “Super quick,”

“Yeah,” Your voice was skeptical as you exited the bathroom, “I’m surprised you even made it out the front door,”

“What do you mean?” Peter questioned, walking towards your kitchen. He set down the bags and began to dig through them.

“I couldn’t get out to catch the train,” You laughed, “Not that it would have mattered since they canceled it anyway,” You studied him as you made your way to the kitchen. Not a single inch of him was wet from the snow.

“They must have shoveled or something,” Peter shrugged next to you. He searched his head for the next possible excuse he would have to use. It was not like he could tell you that Spider-Man swung by the corner store just to get the ‘super cute girl that lives across the hall’ some hot cocoa, or hot chocolate.

“Our landlord? Shoveling?” You stopped a laugh from bubbling past your lips, “You’re funny. Did you slip on some ice on your way back? Hit your head?”

“Nope, just swung by the corner store,” Peter spoke, holding back a sly smile.

Somewhere between the banter, a pot of water was heating up on the stove as the two of you emptied the packets into your empty mugs. The alcohol that was once warming your system began to fade as you felt yourself grossing more nervous by the second.

“Did you… did you want to play a drinking game?” You questioned carefully. You watched as Peter met your eyes, a smile playing on his lips, “What? We don’t have to- if you don’t want to that’s fine I just thought-”

“Sounds fun,” Peter laughed. However, he felt a bit guilty, knowing the alcohol would not affect his heightened system. 

“Cool,” You smiled to yourself, yet Peter could still study your face.

Before the tea pot could whistle, Peter took it off of its hot surface. His action earned your gaze as he poured the steaming water into your cups, “So are these the chasers or are you still spiking these?” He questioned with a smile that made your knees weak.

You were going to need all the help you could get, “Hand me the bottle,” You spoke, watching his smiling eyes close.

***

The two of you tipped back another shot, wincing, “You picked the worst possible things to drink to,” Before you could put the cup down on your coffee table, another keyword was spoken through the screen.

“It-It was the first one I googled,” You slurred slightly, feeling the alcohol’s effects, “You- Why are you complaining? You seem fine,”

“Do I?” Peter questioned from next to you on the couch. Stretching out his arm, he placed it along the couch’s back as he looked at you.

The two of you heard another ‘Santa’ come from the tv and regrettably reached for your cups, “You-” You winced as the vodka burned your chest, “Yeah. You seem fine,” You scooted a bit closer to him, your movements obscured by the alcohol in your system. The room moved slowly around you as you attempted to study Peter.

Embarrassed at your close proximity, Peter found the large blanket you had thrown on the couch, tossing it over your head, “Trust me, I’m feeling it,” He lied. However, his feelings for you were having a full effect on him.

Taking the end of the blanket, you tossed it over him, capturing him underneath with you, “I don’t beli-eve youu,” You slurred slightly, trying to locate him under the dark blanket.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, hands beginning to sweat. He wanted to kiss you.

“Hmm?” You hummed, finding him after your eyes adjusted.

“How do you feel?” He questioned, watching you shift in front of him.

“How do I feel?” You laughed, the movie’s audio a deafened hum, “Wh-What is that supposed to mean?”

“Are you drunk?” Peter questioned. He did not want to make moves on you if you were not capable of saying no.

You shook your head, eyes falling to his lips, “No,” You vocalized, “just… more confident,”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, lips pressed in a straight line as he nodded. He removed the blanket from both your heads, not realizing just how hot and heavy the air had been.

You studied your neighbor, a subtle blush sat on his skin, but maybe it was from the heated covers, “We missed a bunch of shots you know,” You spoke.

“Yeah?” Peter laughed, “Why don’t we just have some hot chocolate,” He emphasized the word, watching a smile curl your lips.

“Mm, yeah, hot cocoa,” You reached out towards the mug. It was positioned closer to Peter on the table, making you move a little closer to him on the couch.

Bringing the warm drink to your lips, it calmed your nerves. But that soon ended as you felt Peter adjust the blanket over the two of you. You stared blankly at the movie, watching it come to an end. You prayed for the movie to continue, not wanting to have to interact with Peter once again.

The credits began to roll. Your heartbeat began to race as you watched Peter reach for the remote, “I don’t think we would make it through another drinking game,” He almost laughed. However, he was just doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” You spoke, “Right,” Shifting under the blanket you felt your breathing grow irregular as you attempted to calm yourself.

“You okay?” Peter asked, hearing your heartbeat and staggered breaths from his spot on the couch.

“What? Yeah- yeah,” You lied through your teeth, staring at the paused screen.

“Your heart’s beating super fast,” Peter leaned closer to you. Taking a breath, he tested the water, “What d’you have a crush on me or something?”

“You-You’re funny,” You spoke, taking a sip of the remaining hot chocolate. You winced, the once hot drink was now cold. The thought of Peter knowing about your crush overshadowed the fact that he could sense your heartbeat.

“Why don’t we play a game?” Peter turned to face you, watching you nod from behind your mug, “like Never Have I Ever,”

“Mmm,” You hummed around the rim. Setting the cup down, your heart dropped with it, “Sounds suupper fun,”

“Come on,” Peter groaned, “It is fun,” He watched as you threw him an unconvinced glance, “You can even go first,”

“Fine. Never have I ever invited myself into my neighbor’s apartment to spend the night,” You spoke, waiting for Peter to put down a finger.

“Fine,” Peter gave you a forced smile, putting down a finger. “Never have I ever called hot cocoa, hot chocolate,”

You put a finger down, “Never have I ever gone out in a blizzard just for hot cocoa,” You watched as Peter shifted under the blanket. A smile crossed your lips as you watched him put a finger down.

“Why don’t we start playing fair,” Peter spoke, watching you physically groan.

“Finnneee,” You agreed, head rolling on your shoulders, “But I’ll need a shot so I answer,” Peter’s eyes narrowed at your comment, “I’m fine and you want me to play fair and me playing fair would be me, buzzed enough to admit whatever you’re going to start asking me,”

“Fine,” Peter crossed a leg over his knee as he watched you stand from your spot next to him, “Never have I ever drank because I’m too nervous to sit next to my neighbor,”

You fell silent, hoping Peter would just drop the claim. A shot found its way into your hand as you brought the small glass to your lips.

“Is your finger down?” Peter smiled from his spot on the couch.

You could hear the amusement in his voice and at that, you took another shot.

Peter watched as you returned to the couch slowly, as if you were regretting each step, “We don’t have to play,”

“No- No,” You sat back down next to him, but not nearly as close as before, “I took my shots just- let’s get it over with,”

“Good,” Peter threw the shared blanket back over your legs, “Your turn,”

“Right,” You looked at the two fingers you had already put down, “Umm,” You searched your head for a fair turn. Staring at the ceiling, you only heard Peter shifting closer to you on the couch, “Never have I ever…” Your eyes slowly fell to Peter as he stared back at you, “You’re making this harder than it should be,”

Peter placed his elbow on the back of the couch, his fist holding up his head as a smug smile crossed his handsome face, “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re staring at me,” You spoke, “and I can’t concentrate,”

“I’m just looking at you,” Peter spoke, leaning in a bit, “Do I make you nervous?” He watched as your gaze fell to the floor, “Mm,” He hummed in a confirming tone.

“No- no,” You spoke, looking into his brown eyes, “Peter- No! No-” Your words fell short as Peter extended his arm towards you, it now resting on the back of the couch.

“Okay, just wondering,” He toyed, watching you almost crumble before him, “Never have I ever, what?” He studied your wide eyes that stared back at him. God, he wanted to kiss you.

You took hold on the blanket, bunching the fabric in your hands as you searched for any words to pass through your parted lips. You watched as Peter’s eyes fell to your lips, where they lingered for what felt like an eternity, “wanted to kiss your neighbor,” The words were barely audible, spoken under your breath.

Peter attempted to hold back the smile that threatened to curl his lips, “How many shots did you have?”

“I don’t know why I said that?” You felt as if you wanted to curl up and die. You wanted to pull the blanket over you to shelter yourself from Peter’s eyes.

So that is exactly what you did. Pulling the blanket towards you, it covered your head, allowing you to sink down on the couch, “Y/N,” Peter almost laughed, his tone almost laced with pity. You were silent under the fabric, “...Did you put your finger down?” Peter asked, hearing you almost immediately whine.

Throwing the blanket over his head, he crawled towards you under the fabric, “Peter… please,” You raised your hands, rubbing your temples. The embarrassment ate away at you and you wished you had not taken those shots that made the claim roll off of your tongue.

“How else am I supposed to see if you put your finger down?” He watched as you shot him an unamused look from under your furrowed brows, “Fine,” Peter raised his hand that had two fingers down. He watched as you stared at his hand in the dim lit space the two of you shared, “If you didn’t put your finger down, you’re winning,” Peter spoke as he put down a third finger.

Your gaze left his hand and moved to his eyes. Parting your lips, you searched for the words while your eyes fell to his lips, “I…What neighbor?” You were not sure if you were just playing dumb, or if you had convinced yourself that there was no way Peter could ever like you.

“We’re like the only ones on this side of the stairs,” He laughed.

“Right,” Was all you could reply with as Peter inched, somehow, closer to you.

“Are you putting a finger down?” He questioned. You stared back at him and he studied every inch of your face. Your gaze had fallen, unable to look him in the eyes as you raised your hand. Peter almost held his breath as he watched your finger fall, giving him permission to make the first move.

So he did.

Before you could say a word, Peter’s lips found yours. His lips pressed against your own forcefully and hungrily as he waited for you to reciprocate.

Parting your lips, you let him in. The kiss deepened as Peter brought his hands to your face. His fingers trailed into your y/h/c locks before pulling on them slightly. Pulling you away from him, he stared at you, “I just wanted to make sure, before I kissed you,”

You nodded in his hold, “Yeah- Yeah… thanks,”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, before bringing his lips to your neck. You jumped at the contact, a small gasp from your lips filled the stale air.

The space you shared under the blanket was dark and stuffy, the air feeling hot and heavy as Peter took the opportunity to explore the bare skin that peeked from under your open cardigan. You almost felt as if you were suffocating, Peter smothering you in affection.

Pulling the blanket off from over the two of you, you took in a generous breath of fresh air, “…Peter,”

At the sound of his name, he bit down on your skin, making you whimper, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You responded almost immediately.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Peter questioned.

You did not have the courage to vocalize all the things you have dreamt of, “Whatever you want,” Whenever you found your mind wandering it was bringing you to Peter having his way with you.

“Be careful who you say that to,” Peter smiled against your skin, “You don’t know all the things I want to do to you,”

Peter’s claim made your knees weak, “L-Like w-hat?” You managed to push out.

Above you, Peter was pouring adoration. It was almost as if it fell, blanketing you in lust, “You want me to tell you?” He questioned, “or… I could show you,” Peter stared down at you, waiting for any sort of response but you would not meet his gaze. You crumbled beneath him, folding into yourself. You wanted to disappear and hide from the lustful thoughts that filled your mind, “Yeah?”

You nodded, face buried into your own shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it,” Peter spoke. He brought his fingers to the soft fabric of your pants, playing with the elastic band.

“Say what?” You managed to ask, looking at Peter out of the corner of your eyes.

“Tell me you want me to touch you,” Peter spoke, watching your eyes widen for a moment, “or kiss you, or anything else,”

“Peter,” You spoke, far too embarrassed to speak those words.

“Or I can stop,”

“No,” Shaking your head, you felt your face heat up from embarrassment.

“Right,” Peter smiled, “Then?” His touch trailed, dipping under the fabric.

“...touch me,” You breathed out, “Peter- please,”

“There ‘ya go,” Peter smiled, “Anything for you,” Hand moving down, it traveled between your legs over the fabric of your underwear. The fabric was soft, almost silk-like against his rough fingertips.

“Mm,” You whimpered as Peter’s touch was gentle, stopping right over your clothed clit. After a quiet laugh, Peter applied some pressure, fingers moving. A small moan made its way past your lips.

“That feel good?” Peter questioned, watching you finally stare back at him. Something behind your eyes shifted, almost as if you were handing him the controls. Your lips were parted as he waited for you to respond.

“Mhm,” You moaned, feeling Peter press down harder. You wished the barrier was gone, wanting to feel Peter’s skin on your own, “P-Pete,”

“What?” Peter asked, “Use your words sweetheart,”

“T-Touch me,” You stuttered.

“I am,”

“For-for real,” Your words were simply, dumbed down under the building pressure of your embarrassment. Peter looked at you, a smug smile on his lips as you fell apart at his touch. You wanted more.

Without a word, Peter’s fingers retreated back up the fabric of your underwear. You were afraid that they would not return, however, you held your breath as his fingers stopped at the waistband of your underwear. Pushing past the fabric, Peter’s fingertips were now lightly grazing your skin, making a shiver travel through you, hardening your nipples.

Peter had no idea how he was being so bold. Maybe because he was acting on his feelings for you alone? He had wanted to do this since you moved in, months after he had found himself all alone and looking for a place to stay. Everyone that once knew him had now forgotten and you were the first person he could start fresh with and he found comfort in that, and in you.

Moving past your clit, Peter’s touch kept moving lower and lower until he reached your wet entrance, “You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed.

“S-Shut up,”

“It’s like you wanted this for as long as I have,” He spoke, absentmindedly.

Before you could reply, he dipped a finger into you, making you moan.

“So you want me to just touch you?” Peter questioned. He met your gaze from under your lashes. With each thrust of his finger your lashes batted slightly. His middle finger was only knuckle deep but you forgot just how long and slender his fingers truly were, “Hm?”

“Fo-for now,” You replied, focusing on his finger that moved in and out of you.

“Okay,” Peter said, “How’s this?” He questioned, a second finger finding its way into you. The action made you squirm, feet kicking off of the couch’s surface as if you were attempting to run off, “Need you to tell me, Y/N,”

Your heart was racing, rattling inside you as all of your thoughts scrambled inside your head. Surely any words that passed through your lips would not be cohesive ones, “F-f-fine,”

“Just fine?” Peter questioned, taking that as a hint to pick up the pace. So he did and his fingers dipped in and out of you with ease. The rhythm and speed sent waves of bliss through your system, feeling as if Peter’s action could bring you to climax alone.

“N-No,” You whimper, earning a confused remark from Peter, “Your-You’re gonna make me cum,”

“Good,” Peter smiled, “Need me to go faster, baby?” He watched you shake your head in agreement, “Want you to cum for me, okay?” Using his strength to his advantage, he fingered you as fast as you could take it, your quiet moans now became louder and breathy.

“Pe-Peter-” His name left your lips as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your climax.

“You gonna cum?” Peter questioned, face now lowered. He placed a wet kiss to your jawline as he felt you nod against him.

With each moan that escaped you, you felt your head feel lighter. Peter was making you see stars in more ways than one.

“S-slow- slow down,” You barely spoke, “I’m getting lightheaded,” However, Peter did not stop. He was determined that he could make you cum beforehand.

Leaning back, he brought his other hand to your face. Covering your mouth, he continued to stimulate you, “I’m not going to stop til you cum,”

Your brows furrowed, eyes squeezing shut. You focused on the building climax that you longed to reach, “Peter-“

“Come on baby,” His words were soft as they pushed you over the edge. A smile crossed his lips as your moans became stuttered, “Therrreee you go,” From his tone, you could tell he was pleased with himself. His fingers did not slow as he worked you through your climax, “I can feel you cumming all over my fingers,” He spoke, removing his hand before placing it on the couch next to your head. With his new found leverage, he leaned over you, listening to the moans that still escaped your parted lips.

“You- You gotta stop-“

“But you’re cumming so good for me,”” Peter spoke smoothly in your ear. He watched you physically react to his sensual claim, crumbling next to him.

“I’m going to pass out,” You somewhat laughed, never experiencing this much pleasure before, or at least from just being fingered.

With that claim, Peter slowed his fingers before stopping completely. Then, he realized his strength had completely left his mind, “Did I hurt you?” Peter questioned, studying your face.

“N-No,” You spoke while attempting to catch your breath, “I just- it’s been awhile. And I normally don’t… cum from that,”

“Hm,” Peter hummed, leaning in and placing a kiss on your skin.

“What?” You questioned.

“Nothing,” Peter smiled back at you, “I’m just glad I could make you cum,”

A blush heated your skin as Peter talked about the subject so openly.

“Do you want to stop?” Peter questioned.

“S-Stop?” You asked, wondering what else Peter was planning.

“Or did you want to keep going?” He sat back, thighs flexing under the fabric of his jeans. Seeing the puzzled look on your face, a smile crossed Peter’s lips, “C’mere,” Sitting back against the couch, he motioned you towards him.

Crawling towards him, Peter helped you onto his lap. You swung your legs, straddling his waist. A smile sat on Peter’s handsome face as you studied it shyly. Your eyes followed each freckle that subtly peppered his nose, darker freckles dotted his soft skin, guiding your gaze.

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you study him a bit more intently now.

“Nothing! Nothing,” You quickly replied, embarrassment flooding through you now. You watched Peter laugh as he placed his hands on your legs. His touch trailed up and down, massaging your thighs. The soft fabric of your pants made him forget the weight of his advance, “Peter-”

Leaning forward, he brought his lips to your chest, kissing the skin above your bralette. Removing his hands, he brought them to the button of his jeans. Raising his hips, you felt just how hard he was, as he pushed the fabric of his jeans down his thighs.

His hands fell to the band of your lounge pants, pushing them down slowly, “This okay?” Peter questioned, “If you want me to stop,”

You wanted to reply, tell him how badly you wanted him but your breath caught in your throat. So you kissed him.

The kiss was forced, hungry and out of practice. You moved above him, allowing Peter to remove your pants, “I want you,” You finally whispered, lips inches away from Peter’s.

“Yeah?” Peter questioned with a laugh, “‘Gonna make you feel good,” Pushing his boxers, you watched his dick leap past the fabric.

His heated skin felt relieved by the room’s air, “P-Peter,” Your voice spoke over a sigh that passed through Peter’s lips, “do you… have a condom,”

“Yeah- Yeah,” Peter nodded. Reaching down, he dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small box of condoms, the kind that you see at gas stations.

“Did… did you get that at the corner store?” You almost smiled, “With the hot chocolate,”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke as he rolled the condom down the length of himself, “Why?”

“What a purchase,” You almost teased, watching Peter’s gaze shift. His once soft and considerate gaze was now far more dominant, which sent a chill up your spine.

Peter hooked a finger around your underwear, pulling them aside. As Peter lined himself up with your entranced you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the size of him.

Placing a firm grip on both of your forearms, Peter pulled you down the length of him. A loud moan bubbled from your lips, making your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, “Therrre you go,” Peter spoke as you began to move above him, “Shit- yeah, just like that,” You bounced on his lap.

You would be lying if you said you felt confident in your actions. However, it had been awhile since you had done anything like this. While you were lost in thought, Peter’s hands wandered over your skin, exploring every inch of you.

“You’re so tight, baby- Gotta relax,” Peter assured. His gentle hands began to slip your cardigan down and off your arms, “You’re squeezing me,”

“Sorry it’s- it’s just been awhile,” You informed him. You watched Peter, he looked as if your claim went in one ear and out the other. Fingertips tickled the skin that sat underneath the band of your bralette, “Peter-“

“Hm?” He hummed, pushing the fabric up and over your breasts.

Your hands flew towards your chest, covering your newly exposed skin. However, you were not modest for long, feeling Peter grab your wrists. Pulling your arms firmly to your sides.

Peter felt you struggle in his hold, making him smile. He used his strength against you and it turned him on. Within the struggle, you stopped riding, warming his dick, “Let me see you,” Peter spoke before realizing your lack of movement, “Did I say you could stop?”

“W-What?” You stuttered at his dominance. Before you could wait for his reply, his hold tightened on your arms, raising you off of him. Your brows furrowed at the strength of Peter’s hold before he pulled you back down on him forcefully. The sound of your skin hitting Peter’s echoed through your small apartment.

Peter moved you, your arousal coating his dick and making him fuck you with ease. His eyes found your breasts, mesmerized as they bounced with each hard thrust that entered you, “Fuckkk,” Peter groaned, “so pretty”

Your dim lite apartment echoed with the sound of skin and your loud moans. The string lights almost illuminated your skin, a slight sweat covering your body as Peter tossed you around above him, “Peter- I’m gon-“ The words could barely vocalize between your moans. 

“Hold on, need you to wait for me-“ Peter spoke, teeth taking in the skin of his lip. Picking you up and off of him, he heard you whimper. Throwing you onto the couch, he bent you over the back of it.

“What are you-“ You questioned, watching Peter move behind you. He pulled his pants down, kicking them off his legs before his hands returned to your skin. Cupping your ass, he rubbed your soft skin. His gentle touch was soon gone as it fell into the fabric of your underwear, beginning to rip them off of you, “Peter!”

He brought a firm hand down onto your skin, spanking your ass. With no warning he entered you again, coaxing a loud moan from your throat, “Want you to cum when I tell you to,” Peter spoke, “Don’t cum until I say so,” His thrusts were equally hard as fast, sending you further over the couch’s back. Your hands reached out behind you, fingers finding the fabric of Peter’s sweater, holding on for dear life.

Peter’s strength was almost unbearable, but you could tell just how close he was so you physically held on until he reached his climax, “Are you going to cum?” You managed to question. Reaching out, your fingers left his sweater, holding yourself off the couch, battling against Peter’s strength, “Please-“

“Yeah- yeah, shittt,” His head fell back slightly as he focused on chasing his high. You almost melted around him, filling Peter’s mind with the dirtiest thoughts, “I’m going to cum, sweetheart. Need you to cum with me, okay?” He watched you nod before focusing on your own orgasm as well, “I’m close- fuck I’m going to cum,”

“Mm please cum,” You begged, arms weak. However, you could not hold yourself up, body falling against the couch’s hard back, “fuck,”

Peter’s swears mixed with your own as he came, filling the condom that was buried deep inside of you. His hands fell, resting on the couch’s back on either side of you. Peter’s head felt heavy as it hung, eyes studying your ass as he pulled out of you slowly.

You groaned below him, sore from how rough Peter had been moments before.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke quietly, “Was I too rough?” You were silent below him, “I was, wasn’t I?” Dipping down, he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades. His kiss traveled to your neck, peppering it in kisses, making a shiver travel through your warm body, “Sorry,” Peter apologized again with a small laugh.

“You’re fine,” You finally spoke, your throat hoarse from your loud moans, “I’m just… sore,” You laughed. Sitting next to you, he helped you get more comfortable on the couch, “Peter,” You spoke, meeting his eyes, “I have a bed, it’s literally right there,”

“…Right,” Peter spoke, eyes leaving yours and falling onto the bed that was literally steps away, “I just… I really needed you,” He looked back towards you, unable to meet your embarrassed gaze, “and you also said how bad you wanted me, sooo,”

“I’m- I’m just saying,” You stuttered.

Awkward silence hung in the air as the two of you sat there.

“I should probably…” Peter trailed off, acknowledging the filled condom that still sat around him.

“Yeah- yeah,” You replied. He stood before you, giving you a small, and kind of awkward, smile. He walked off, disappearing into your bathroom and leaving you to reflect on what exactly just happened.

“How was that?” Peter asked, catching you off guard and making you jump slightly, “sorry,”

“No no I was just-“ You turned your head, “I was thinking about it. Not in a weird way- But how I’d think about doing that and it actually happened-“ Your lips shut as your words played in your own ears. God you sounded like a freak.

“You thought about fucking me?” Peter questioned, finding his spot next to you after putting on his boxers. He watched you crumble, turning your body away from him, “Nooo, no. It’s cute- I thought about you too, but you already know that,” You must have forgotten just how exposed you were to him right now, so he reached out, pulling your bralette back down and over your breasts, “I’m glad I wasn’t the creepy neighbor who thought about fucking you almost every time I saw you,”

“Straight to that?” You questioned, teasing him slightly.

“I know what foreplay is,” He joked back, watching you laugh, “but no, I think about eating you out a lot,” With that claim, he watched your eyes widen, making him laugh, “Maybe I could wake you up that way? On Christmas,”

“Christmas,” You spoke, remembering that you were supposed to be on a late night train back home but instead, you fucked your neighbor.

Reaching out, you grabbed your phone that was on your coffee table. Checking it, the time read 1:02 AM.

“Merry Christmas,” You spoke, eyes leaving the bright screen and falling into Peter’s warm brown gaze, “I kind of wish I got you something… you know since we just did all that,”

“Would…” Peter searched for the words in his head, “How about a date?”

“What?” You questioned. You were worried that tonight was going to be a one night stand, so Peter’s question washed a wave of relief over you, “You want to go out with me? Or I mean- like- a date. You want to go out on a date? With me?” Peter laughed as you rambled before him.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I mean, that’s why I asked. Because I like you,”

“Oh, yeah- Yeah,” You spoke, “Yeah I’d like that,”

“Okay,” Peter laughed, bringing a hand towards your face. Pulling you close, he met you halfway with a sweet kiss, “Merry Christmas,”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man #spiderman smut #spider man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fic #spider-man fanfic #spider-man smut #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

[eowima]

It's me, hi, I'm the one who hasn't posted/written anything in over a year xD

I've been a little busy on a side project aka building a third human being from scratch (and pushing it out lolz), and also I think I had used up all of my words and needed new ones, so I went and read all the Bridgerton books (meh) and then every book written by Rick Riordan (heck yeah), in the span of six months 🤔 now I gats lots of new words AND a little baby, which is nice :D

My third little human has now been born for a little over a month, and sleep deprived as am I, I'm still starting to feel the lovely itch to write again ❤️ I have missed this a lot and am so excited to slowly start again. I hope I manage to finish some of my projects on my AO3 :D

Kinda want to slowly get back on the saddle, and what better way to do that than to write "drabbles" (quote unquote 'cause I'm not good at keeping things super short like drabbles are supposed to be) so how about you guys send me prompts from this lovely list, and I'll try to write a little something something in between feedings/cuddles with my baby daughter and all the other things a mum of three does 😍

It can be anything Arcane, Agents of SHIELD, or Spider-Man, just make sure to specify it in your ask!

Love,

Océane

#caitvi #spideychelle #Fitzsimmons #arcane fanfic #Spider-Man fanfic #aos fanfic #prompt me! #I'm coming back for you babyyyy #writing this during the 3AM feeding lolz

[reddragoon2691]

New Spider-Man Miniseries Fic. Introducing to you, the Marvelous Spider-Girls!

Many incredible stories of countless costumed heroes have been read and loved by fans. Amongst these amazing tales of fantasy and suspense, one has stood the test of time: The Amazing Spider-Man.

The iconic web-slinger has had many trials and tribulations across his career. Under such pressure and responsibility, one may fear if the wall crawler's future has any hope. However, the time has come for the friendly neighborhood hero to get his happy ending!

Of course, somebody still has to go out there to save the day, and that's where the next generation of heroes comes in! Read this never before seen story of one Marvelous trio: the daughters of Spider-Man together at last against the new forces of evil!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48463630/chapters/122243389 

#spider-man #spider family #spider girl #spider-man fanfic #mayday parker #april parker #annie parker #peter parker #mary jane parker #petermj #marvel fanfiction #marvel #ao3 fanfic #ao3

[peterman-spideyparker]

I was hoping you could help me im looking for a fic we’ll mostly multiple one shots series involving Daredevil and Spider-Man there’s one where the reader gets into an accident and Peter takes them to the hospital that’s when Matt shows up and tries to calm him down and he ends up calling him dad this was all after NWH I just can’t remember who wrote it🙏🏻

Nonny, I know I've read this, but I can't think of who wrote it for the life of me!! I've gone through my blog, likes, and reblogs, and I don't see a trace of it anywhere.

Can anyone help Nonny out?

#matt murdock #daredevil #peter parker #spider-man #matt mrudock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fanfic #spider-man fanfic #spider-man fanfiction

[kitcat992]

“Hey, Mr. Stark?” Peter called out on a whim.

Tony kept his eyes strictly on his task as he sounded out, “Hm?”

Peter watched for a beat that went on a little too long — earning a curious look from Tony along the way — as the man bent and folded the amber glowing metal with a pair of pillars in one hand and blacksmith tongs in the other.

Even though Mr. Stark hadn’t actually told him what he was working on, Peter was smart enough to put the two and two together. And while his visiting weekends were always ‘Internship’ days — which meant sometimes they’d work on their suits together, other times they’d brainstorm crazy new ideas that either took off or failed — Mr. Stark was right, today wasn’t technically an ‘Internship’ day. Not on his off-weekend that May had traded to make up for next week’s wedding.

And so, without any real plans for the weekend, Mr. Stark had simply told him he had a project he needed to wrap up. For Peter, that was the extent of that.

Taking a moment to truly watch and examine Tony’s movements, Peter didn’t need verbal confirmation on what he saw. It was obvious to the passing eye; a ring of sorts being crafted by hand, and the material used to forge it laid all across the table Mr. Stark had stationed himself at.

Peter could tell himself all he wanted that he didn’t know what provoked his next question. But even he knew the focus of the wedding had taken his thoughts hostage for a while now — sometimes even more than the lingering weight of being brought back to life.

“When you asked Ms. Potts to marry you…” Peter trailed off, swallowing hard to wet his parched throat. “When did you…I mean, how’d you…”

Tony slowly set his tongs down, careful on where he put the glowing hot ring along the way. An arch eyebrow vocalized his puzzlement more than words could’ve.

“How’d you know?” Peter forced himself to finish, the best that he could.

Tony let the tongs lay down next to his welding torch, being sure to keep the still-glowing metal in a safe place where it couldn’t be disturbed.

“That she’d say yes?” he tried to clarify, proving Peter’s attempt ineffective after all.

Looking down at his work table, Peter tapped his finger on the surface without ever stopping — never once finding the courage to look at Tony when he spoke.

“That you…loved her,” Peter managed to fight against every atom in his body that screamed for him to stop talking. “How do…how do you know when you love somebody?”

When Peter  finally looked back up at Tony, he wished nothing more than if he could go back in time and shut up after all. The look of confusion on the man’s face was enough for Peter to crawl into a ditch and die from dirt inhalation.

“Like, obviously I know what love is,” he tried — oh boy did he try to make himself look better. “It’s not that I don’t know what love is — I love May, I love…you know, other family. And friends.”

He was making it worse. With every growing inch of Tony’s smirk, Peter knew he was making it worse.

“But what’s it like?” Peter finally found the words to ask, and with a heavy sigh parting the break that came in-between. “With you and Ms. Potts? What’s…what’s that like?”

Peter wasn't lying — not even in his nervous stammered fit that failed to string together a coherent sense of words. He  knew what love was. He knew he loved Uncle Ben, he knew he still loved Aunt May. He knew he loved his parents at one point — what kid didn’t?

But yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about almost two nights ago. Not because of the aliens that landed at the compound while he was in Queens — no, something else finally disrupted his excitement for that.

It was remembering MJ’s smile on the bridge, and the way she smelt like powdered doughnuts and vanilla lavender, mixed with the draft of sea water that rose from down below.

The way the bridge’s lights made her skin look like polished chestnuts, and her hair a perfect frizzled mess of tangled vines and curls.

How her laugh was as soft as the wind, and her smile was bright as the setting sun.

It was remembering the way she made him feel — a way he’d never felt before. A feeling he couldn’t quite explain, but also couldn’t forget.

Peter couldn’t help but wonder what that was.

And as Tony looked at him head-on, with a small smile turning his lip up towards his ear, it was easy to say the older man had it figured out a long time ago.

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