#spider-man reader insert
want another drink? | peter b. parker x reader
TW: mildly dubious consent, alcohol / drinking
After a long day at work, you find yourself at the local bar with a friendly Peter B. Parker to keep you company.
(AFAB reader) (NSFW)
It was late by the time you finally managed to get out of work, not that you really minded. The hours didn’t bother you as much as it did some of your co-workers. If anything, you liked walking through the city streets at night. It was kinda peaceful to finally have silence in a place that was usually bustling with noise.
However, it was the weekend and you were feeling a little more sociable than you normally would. You thought about running to the liquor store around the corner for a bottle to share with yourself, but that sounded sadder than you cared to admit so you caved and found yourself sitting in one of the somewhat nicer bars in the area.
The tv was playing the local late-night news station, crime rates had been down for a few weeks so things were quiet. You sat near the end of the bar, putting some distance between you and the louder, drink-happy people that were spending their Friday with friends or dates.
You liked this bar, mainly because it never got too much traction on weekends, though you guessed that was out the window considering how filled it was tonight. Plus, it was seriously annoying having to overhear parts of passing conversations that you didn’t want to be a part of.
This was the closest you would get to “going out” anytime soon and you weren’t even there with anyone. Though you were starting to bum yourself out, you ordered a drink and tried to tune more into your own thoughts and ignore the people around you.
As the night went on, the room gradually got more and more empty, the swell of laughter dying out would normally make the average person feel melancholy but it did nothing more than make you feel relieved that it was now quiet again. The bartender began washing and putting away glasses, and with an occasional clinking sound or two, the atmosphere was beginning to make your eyes feel heavy.
You noticed at some point that it was just you and a man left sitting at the bar. He must have been drinking there all night, but you hadn’t recalled seeing him before now.
The man swirled what was left in his glass around and looked over at you, looking tempted to say something before turning back and taking one last swig.
“Bad night?” His voice was low but once you got a good look at him it seemed like he was tired, or had just been drinking for too long. “I, uh, don’t wanna come off as pesky. Just curious.”
You weren’t normally the type to talk to strangers, but again you were feeling pretty bold.
Adjusting a little in your seat, you turned to look at him and cleared your throat before you spoke. “Not really bad. I got here after work on a whim that it would be more quiet than my apartment.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing that at all.” He was quick with a reply before gesturing the bartender back over for a refill of his glass.
You shook your head, smiling a little.
“Want another drink?” He looked back at you, smiling back.
Thinking about it for a moment before agreeing, you took off your jacket and draped it over your stool. “Sure, only if you pay for ruining my quiet time.”
Chuckling, the man threw some money on the table for your drink. He then turned to hold his hand out for you to shake before speaking again. “I’m Peter. Peter B. Parker.”
You shook his hand and told him your name, seemingly embarrassed by the fact, you felt a lot better than earlier. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Peter.”
Peter drank from his glass. “You too.”
The two of you sat and chatted for a while, sharing flirtatious glances between conversation every so often. It’d been a while since you last found interest in someone like this, not that you really minded. It was kind of exciting.
The two of you sat and chatted for a while, sharing flirtatious words and glances between conversation every so often until the last glass had been put away and the bartender had to kick you both out.
Peter held the door open for you as you stepped out into the dimly lit street, following behind and feeling the chill in the air. You stared up into the dark sky from the street, hoping to see a star or two with no luck.
“You really made my night a lot better you know.” You started, taking a deep breath before spinning around at Peter who was already looking at you. “So, thanks.”
Peter smiled, walking closer to you. “I enjoyed myself too. Hell, I should be the one thanking you for keeping me company so long.”
You threw your arms around his neck and giggled. “Is it bad of me to say that I’m not ready to go back home yet?”
He stood staring at you for a second. “Only if it’s bad of me to say I feel the same.”
Pulling him down into a kiss you were waiting for, the two of you clashed teeth and tongue, and already tasting the liquor from earlier on each other only made it that much harder to wait to taste him more.
Breaking from the messy kiss, Peter wrapped his arms around your waist. “God, you taste good.”
There was so much impatience in the way you touched each other, it felt like you were gonna burst. Maybe it was the boldness that came along with drinking, or the fact that you just made out with a man you just met, but you couldn’t wait any longer.
You grabbed Peter by the wrist and pulled him into the first alleyway you saw. “Woah, woah, we could get caught like this you know.” Peter was definitely trying to be the voice of reason here, but you weren’t interested in listening.
Reaching down to unbuckle and unzip his pants, you gave him one last kiss before getting down on your knees. “If anyone sees, let them have a good show.”
“Oh, fuck..” There goes the voice of reason.
You could already see he was leaking precum through his underwear. To tease him, you placed your mouth on the tip between the fabric, getting a surprised moan out of Peter.
“I bet you taste good here too.” Taking him out, you gave a small lick on the underside of his shaft before starting to kiss and suck him there. Peter took shaky breaths and placed his hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair in a fist to guide your pace.
“God, just like that,” He groaned out, bringing one of his hands up to wipe the sweat dripping down his forehead. “I’m gonna cum down your throat, okay baby?”
You popped off for only a second, messily kissing the tip again before nodding your head and going right back down on him.
Peter thrusted into you when he came, a quiet moan escaping his throat once he watched you swallow every last drop. Pushing the hair out of your face, he smiled at you and went to pull his boxers and jeans back up.
“Feel good?” You asked, standing back up and gathering yourself a little.
“Felt great.” Peter grabbed your face and pulled you in for a hard kiss, he made it obvious he wasn’t done with you yet.
Whining into the kiss, you popped off and breathed heavily. “Hey, at least give me a chance to breathe.” You put your hand on his shoulder, putting some space between you.
Peter’s finger traced your cheek and he bit his lip, looking up to the small bit of sky he could see from the alley.
“Can we go back to my place?” You let your hand move to his bicep, slightly squeezing it through his jacket.
You pulled on his sleeve, throwing yourself towards him, pressing yourself up against his chest. “It’s too cold out here now.”
He nods and the two of you start your walk to your apartment. The wind picked up as you got closer to your building, zipping your jacket shut and huddling closer to Peter kept you as warm as possible until you got inside. You didn’t really mind and Peter didn’t seem like he did either, you were both just excited for the rest of your night spent together.
Once you got to your number, you turned the key and opened the door. Aside from the flowers you got from your birthday a few months back and one or two pictures on your fridge, your apartment really didn’t look lived in at all. It still smelled like the vanilla candle you lit this morning while you got ready for work.
“It’s nice.” Peter awkwardly spoke, stepping inside and throwing his coat over one of the chairs in the living room.
“Thanks,” You replied, opening your bedroom door and walking in, holding your hand out to gesture for him to follow. “Make yourself at home.”
Throwing yourself onto your cotton bedsheets, you adjusted one of your pillows and flopped onto your side to stare at Peter, who still hadn’t gotten past your doorway.
He walked in and kneeled on the bed, reaching over to hold your face up to a soft kiss. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asked, backing off for a second.
You nodded and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. “I’m sure.”
Peter was so gentle with you now that the two of you were all alone. He strung his fingers through your hair and moved his hand to your hip bone and held it there, just hard enough to leave a small bruise. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you once more, digging your nails into his back, you pulled on his shirt for him to take it off.
“God, Peter, take this off already.” You frustratedly groaned out at him, still pulling on his shirt.
He chuckled and put his weight back to his knees, pulling it up over his head and flinging it somewhere on the floor behind him. “Alright, alright. No need to get your panties in a twist.”
Meeting your lips again, Peter decided to move his fingers up to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them through your clothes. You continued to moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms back around his neck.
“Can I take this off?” Peter asked, pulling at the top of your work-shirt.
You breathed out and nodded. “Yeah, yeah of course.”
You watched as Peter unbuttoned you, starting from the top and working his way down. He reached a hand inside to help you slip your arms out of it once he was done.
“Cute bra.” He added, leaning down to kiss your collarbone while his hand stayed squeezing at your breasts.
His lips felt so hot against your skin, it felt like you were burning up from just his touch alone.
Peter reached down and started undoing your jeans to get them off of you. “Can you lift your hips a little for me, baby?” You did as he asked and he slid them down your legs and threw them to sit with the rest of your clothes on the floor.
Like this, you were left in your underwear while Peter had managed to keep his pants on. You reached down, grabbing at his bulge and massaging it through the denim. Hoping that he would get the picture that it was time for them to come off.
Peter groaned, looking at you with dark eyes before reaching down to unzip his jeans.
You reached down and pulled him out of his underwear once his pants were open, holding his dick in your hand you gave him a few light strokes before lifting your hips up and grinding yourself against him.
“That feel good?” Peter asked, gripping both hands down on your hips again to hold you there.
“Fuck, yes,” You thrusted your hips against him, already feeling how hard he is through your underwear. “I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”
Peter bit his lip and thrusted up, surprising you a little.
One of his hands left your hip and moved to push your underwear to the side, giving him the access he needed to please you. “You’re so wet already and I haven’t even touched you here yet.” Peter commented, rubbing small circles into you.
You moaned out a little louder than before and grabbed his wrist to try and push his hand down further, noticeably getting upset when he brought his hand back up to his mouth, licking his fingers and sending another hot wave pulsing through you.
Peter looked at you for confirmation that you were enjoying yourself and smirked, moving his hand back down to slid it along your folds, prodding you before slipping one of his fingers in.
“Oh, fuck, that feels good.” You said, placing one of your hands on top of his shoulder, squeezing it.
Peter chuckled. “This is just the beginning sweetheart.” He replied before leaning down to playfully lick at you, his finger moving in and out of you slow enough to build up that sweet tension in your body. You were gonna melt.
After a moment or two, Peter slid another finger inside, this time curving them upwards and making you squeal out.
“Peter..” You moved your hand to his head, pushing it down into you.
You could feel Peter smirking against you as you threw your head back to hit the pillows, moaning out and completely losing yourself in him.
That familiar heat rose through your body and you squeezed your thighs in on him, one of your hands gripping the bed sheets while the other was deep in his hair. He thrusted his fingers in and out of you so fast you could almost see stars, Peter was good at this.
You would be lying if you said the wet sounds your body was making didn’t embarrass you but God, it felt too good for you to really care. Peter brought you to your climax quicker than any guy you’d slept with before.
Peter took his mouth off of you, pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to your own mouth to taste yourself, licking and sucking his fingers while Peter adjusted back onto his knees.
Once his fingers were clean, Peter moved his cock to meet your face, holding it out for you to lick too.
“My turn.” Peter said, watching you open your mouth and drop your tongue out for him.
You weren’t always the best with blowjobs, but you wanted to do your best to please Peter after the amazing head he just gave you. You slid your tongue along the bottom side of his shaft and kissed the tip, looking up at him with hungry eyes to let him know how bad you wanted this.
Peter gripped your head and looked down at you as you lined his cock with your tongue. You finally took all of him in your mouth and only slightly gagged at how far down you managed to get him.
He bit his lip, getting a fistful of your hair and pulling it in. “Am I allowed to fuck your face?” Peter asked, watching your face intently as you nodded for him to continue.
“Good girl.” He quickly added before he began thrusting in and out of your mouth. You weren’t sure if your throat could handle this but hell if you didn’t try for this man.
You moaned onto him, closing your eyes to focus while he held your head like a toy.
Peter groaned out a cuss word or two here and there before you felt him pause and pull out, stroking himself one last time while he waited for you to take your tongue out for him. You opened your eyes back up to see his face while he came in your mouth.
He sat back on his legs and looked at you. “Don’t feel obligated to swallow just for me, I know it’s kind of gross.”
You took a hard gulp and brought your hand up to your mouth to wipe your lips. “It’s not that gross to me.”
Peter pressed one of his hands onto the bed beside you, hovering his body over you and kissing you again. This time it was a lot messier, both of you were beginning to grow impatient for one another after all.
Using his free hand, he moved it down to your underwear and slipped one of his fingers into the elastic, tugging at them to come off.
You lifted your hips again and helped him pull them down your legs and watched as they disappeared behind him, leaving you bare and exposed for him.
“Am I allowed to really fuck you now?” Peter asked, fire behind his eyes while he looked at you.
You wrapped your legs around his waist and nodded. “Please.”
Reaching into your tableside drawer, you pulled out a condom and handed it to him.
Once he got it on, Peter lined his cock up to your entrance, waiting a moment before pushing in and joining you in moaning out in pleasure.
He waited a moment before he started to move, just to give you time to adjust to the feeling. Not that you really needed it, you were soaking wet laying underneath him.
“This good?” He asked, kissing your forehead.
“It’s great, Peter.” You replied, flinging your arms back over him to pull him closer to you.
The soft aroma of vanilla that lingered in your room was now replaced with a lewd smell that you knew would probably last the whole weekend.
Peter messily kissed you after he began moving, tasting every bit of each other was not something you expected to be a turn on, but there’s always time for kink development.
Your legs tightened around him and you moaned into his mouth, feeling so close to your next climax and you’d only just gotten him inside of you.
He sped up his thrusts, noticing how close you were already. You hid your face in his shoulder as he pounded into you mercilessly.
“God, Peter just like that!” You moved one of your hands to desperately grip at his hair while you reached your peak and moaned into his skin.
“Fuck, I’m close too.” Peter held you so tightly underneath him while you both shared a long orgasm, collapsing into each other with heavy breaths.
He toppled onto you, his sweaty skin slightly sticking to yours as you both laid silently with the other. You could feel how fast his heart was beating now that your chests were pressed together.
“That felt amazing.” You were the first to speak, your voice a little hoarse after all that.
Peter turned his head and met your gaze. “Yeah, it did.”
The two of you shared a passionate kiss before he pulled himself off of you, taking off his condom and tossing it in the trash can that sat in the corner of your room.
He sighed and laid back down beside you, wrapping one of his arms over you and pulling you in closer to him for a cuddle.
“You okay?” He asked, kissing one of your temples.
“Perfect.” You said, feeling your heavy eyes shut as you drifted off to sleep.
The morning sun leaking in through your blinds felt like it came too soon as you opened your eyes unwillingly and woke up. You yawned and stretched when you noticed Peter wasn’t beside you anymore, a little bummed out, you pulled the covers back over your eyes and tried to go back to sleep before you heard a small knock on the door.
“Are you up? Want coffee?” Peter asked from the other side in a quiet voice, obviously trying not to wake you if you were still asleep.
You slowly pushed your blanket back down and wiped your tired eyes. “You’re still here?” You asked.
Peter opened the door and walked in, holding two cups of coffee. “Good morning, uh, here, this is for you.”
You sat up, taking one of the hot cups in your hands and taking a deep breath. “Where’d you get the coffee from?”
Peter blew on his coffee and looked at you. “Oh, I went down to the café in the lobby of your building. I hope that’s okay.”
“You could’ve used my coffee machine, you know. I wouldn’t have minded.” You replied, smiling a little while watching the steam rise from the cup.
Peter sighed and sat down on the bed next to you. “Well, I didn’t know that. You were sleeping.”
“Next time, just wake me and I’ll make it.” You laughed a little before placing your drink down on the coaster on your nightstand, running your fingers through your messy hair.
He smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “So there’ll be a next time?”
You froze, plopping your hands beside you on the bed. “Well, uh,” You looked at him. “If you want there to be.”
Peter chuckled and took a sip from his cup. “I’d love that.”
25 notes · View notes
The story is set in an alternative MC universe where Tony Stark is still alive and is paying for Peter Parker’s college tuition fees. The college life is not really something that he looks forward to, especially when he’s far away from Ned and MJ. But luckily he was able to meet the reader!
This story is part of my one-shot compilations inspired by the song “You Shine” from the musical “Carrie”, wherein two people see the way each other shines.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warning: Fluff, awkward university students, accident, injury
Word Count: 2,906
First Day of School. Peter Parker cringes at the thought. It’s not that he hates school, he just feels uneasy at the thought that he’s new and he doesn’t have his friends, Ned and MJ, with him.
And I’m Spider-Man, I have better things to do, he thought.
If it wasn’t for his promise to Mr. Stark, to finish his college degree in exchange for full access to the Avengers Compound and all the tech that comes with it, he would’ve webbed his way out of the school before he could even get in the school.
Tony Stark, a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist, initially wanted to enroll Peter in the most elite school in America but good thing Peter was able to convince him not too. With the looks of how the students dress up and the amount of cars outside the parking area, this would’ve gotten much worse if he followed Mr. Stark’s initial plan. Peter adjusts his second-hand, thrift-store-bought backpack and walks straight towards his classroom.
Before entering the classroom, he double checks the text written on his ID to see if it matches the name of the room. He slowly enters the room and lo-and-behold, a classroom that can be converted to an IMAX movie theater, welcomes him.
He scans the room and decides to sit on the desk located a few meters away from the exit door. With his elbow on the desk and his chin resting on the palm of his hand, he observes the students already forming groups amongst themselves. Peter made no attempt to join a clique or to join any group, just looking at his wrinkled plaid shirt over his 5-year old white shirt, he knows he doesn’t belong. But he knows that’s not enough of a reason to just stop making new friends.
You’re an Avenger, man. With all the courage that he could muster, he scans the room and tries to find at least one person who hasn't had any chance to make friends yet.
Before he could turn around to check if the seat behind him is also empty, you walk towards Peter’s direction. You were wearing a blue oversized sweatshirt. A tinge of reds were peaking through the gaps between the folds of your black denim pants and white sneakers also caught Peter’s attention.
This is my chance.
Before Peter could even speak with you, a voice coming from the professor disrupted Peter’s plans.
“Hi class. Good morning.” The professor flashes his name and the subject name on the screen of the projector. “For today, I will be discussing the syllabus, I think we’ll finish early. I won’t be sharing the soft copy of my slide, so please take down notes.”
Bummed that he wasn’t able to talk to you, Peter made a mental note to at least try to start a conversation with you after class. He then rummages through his things, only to realize that he wasn’t able to bring any pens. He vaguely remembers Aunt May borrowing it earlier, but he’s not really sure if she was able to return it. “Oh no.” He whispers and takes out his notebook instead.
Peter is in the middle of pretending that he’s taking down notes, when he feels a soft tap on his shoulders.
“You can borrow this if you want.” You offer a ballpen to Peter.
Peter is taken aback by this sudden interaction.
“Ah!” You exclaim. “Don’t worry, the case is pink but the ink’s black.”
“T-thanks.” Peter stuttered. “I - I don’t mind the color.”
I don’t mind the color?? What the hell does that mean?! Peter smiles at your direction while mentally cursing at his awkward self on the inside.
The professor finishes up his lecture and you start to fix up your things.
“Thank you for this.” Peter interrupts, while you were in the middle of putting your notebook in your black leather backpack. “I-I left my pen at home and -” With his left hand, he rubs his nape, as he hands you the pen with his right. “I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker.”
“Y/N. Y/N, L/N.” You respond and push back the pen. “You can have the pen for a while. You’ll probably need that for your next classes.”
“Oh. Uh!.” That… makes sense. Not gonna lie, Peter was a little surprised by your response, he definitely did not include that in his list of possible scenarios. “Right. I’ll just return this tomorrow.”
“Sure! What time’s your lunch tomorrow?” You ask, as the two of you walk out of the room. “My lunch time is...” He looks at the back of his ID, “a little early… 11:30AM. How about you?”
“Ow. Too bad. Mine’s 12nn.”
Your small pout wasn’t left unnoticed (and it was a little cute and Peter couldn’t help but smile.) “Wanna compare schedules?” Peter asks.
“Sure!” you answer excitedly.
“So…” Peter scans your schedule. "We’re classmates in… Literature… and…”
“History.” You add. The two of you looked at each other and smiled.
“I guess we’ll see each other a lot?” Peter comments.
“Yeah. I hope so.” You answer and smile at him.
The two of you started eating together ever since the day returned the pen to you. Seating next to Peter is probably one of the best decisions that you made in your life. Having someone to eat with during lunch time was a thorn out of your chest because eating alone is one of your fears.
Generally, it takes a long time before you can adjust yourself to someone (contrary to the popular belief that you’re “friendly’), but Peter’s obvious awkwardness and warmth just made it more comfortable for you. Knowing that someone is as shy as you, but still trying to converse with you is something that you really appreciate 0 it makes you want to try to converse too.
From having lunch together, you two ended up walking home together, as well. Some days you would wait for him, some days he would wait for you and then some days he has to go earlier because he had something to do for Mr. Stark. Walking home together wasn’t really something that you explicitly told each other to do, it just felt like a natural thing to do.
“Hey.” you say, one day. “Let’s go to the clinic on our way home.”
“Why?” Peter asks, his voice sounds a little worried.“ Do you feel sick?”
You don’t answer and continue walking instead. After arriving at the clinic, you open the door and Mary, the University nurse, greets you with a warm smile.
“Y/N! What’s up?” Mary inquires.
“Hi Mary!” You stride inside and Peter follows. “Can I have some of your bandages?”
“Sure! Why? Don’t tell me you got injured again.” Mary echoes your soft chuckle. “No, not me this time.”
Mary pauses whatever she’s doing and observes you, as you point at the empty chair to where Peter can sit while you look for the bandages in the cabinet. Peter looks a little confused. With a white square bag in one hand, you approach the chair where Peter was seated.
“Give me your hand.” You instruct Peter, he hands you his left hand. “Your other hand, you silly.” You smile.
“I don’t think -” The pain he felt after you touch his right hand stops him mid-sentence.
“Sorry.” You whisper. Peter was wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt that you had to slide up. His hand is swollen as you expected.
“I-” Peter starts. “I fell from the stairs.” Of course that is a lie. Because, he, in fact, fell from a building because he was running late for Literature class. He didn’t really mind it, because it happens all the time and he knows he’ll heal eventually.
You gently place a cold compress on Peter’s hand. “I noticed that you were having a hard time writing a while ago.” You pause for a while and look at him. “You don’t have to explain anything Peter. Plus, since you injured your dominant hand, I just thought you might need help with wrapping this up.”
“My mom’s a nurse.” You mention, while wrapping the bandage around Peter’s hand. “We used to pretend to be injured and wrap bandages during play time.”
Peter hums, amused. “You’re amazing, you know.” He comments. “You’ve always been like this since the day we first met. It’s like, you can read my mind.”
You laugh. “I don’t know why, but I always get that comment about me.” You pull down and button up Peter’s Sleeve. “But I don’t think I’m amazing, though.”
Before Peter could say anything, you stand up, fix the chair and return the bandage to where you got it. “Let’s go home?”
Peter nods and you bid goodbye to Mary.
“Bye, Mary. Thanks.” Peter echoes and waves his hand briefly.
“Take care, you two.” Mary responds.
On your way home, Peter stops in his tracks and points at the ice cream truck by the park. “Hey. Let’s get some ice cream. Sit by the bench over there.” He pauses and looks at you. “I’ll go get you some. My treat.” He winks and runs towards the truck.
You sit down on the bench located under a tree, stretch your arms a little while taking a breath of fresh air. A few moments later, you see Peter striding towards the bench. He stops in front of you, with two ice creams in his left hand - his fingers strategically intertwined to make sure the ice creams won’t fall down. One of the ice cream was probably cookies and cream flavored and the other one was chocolate for sure.
“You know” You comment, as you reach out for what you assume as the cookies and cream flavored ice cream. “If you can hold two ice cream cones in one hand you should might as well try to write with it.”
Peter laughs and sits next to you and hands you a paper towel. “I’ll put that on my to-do list.”
You grab the paper towel that Peter handed you and the two of you proceed eating. You were silent for a whole minute until Peter started speaking again.
“I still think you’re amazing though.” Peter comments. While you were focusing on eating your ice cream, he looked at you briefly and looked away when you started laughing.
“Why are you bringing up that topic again?” A layer of ice cream got stuck on your throat making you cough a little, you clear your throat, and continue. “I don’t think being… hmm… how should I call this?” You pause to think for a second. “Sensitive? I don’t think it’s something amazing.”
“Why is that?” Peter was curious. “It’s like you’re a mind-reader! It’s amazing!”
You chuckle. “Why? Are you going to recruit me to the Avengers or something?”
Did she notice that I’m Spider-Man, too? “Hehe-he.” Peter laughs awkwardly and continues eating his ice cream.
“But seriously though.” You continue, while chewing some of the ice cream cone bits in your mouth. “As much as being...err...hyper-sensitive with other people’s non-verbal nuances is a good thing, especially when I have a friend like Peter Parker who tends to keep their struggles to themselves.”
“Hey! I don’t do that…”
You glare at him, smile a little and take a deep breath. “It’s not particularly amazing when I have to stand in front of many people…” You finish up with your ice cream and crumple the piece of paper towel on your hand. “...and notice every little change in expression each time you utter a word… Or when you sit alone in the middle of crowded places and just feel the eyes of people staring at you, judging you.” You look at Peter and smile a little more as you try to make it look like it’s not that big of an issue.
Peter had finished his ice cream as well. “Y/N…” Peter might not be as sensitive as you, but he looks at you as if he sees beyond your half-hearted smile. Peter moves and scoots closer to you while adjusting himself to face you. He takes your hand, opens it, and takes the balled up paper towel that you’ve been gripping while you were speaking. With his left hand, he puts the paper towel into his bag’s side pocket, while making sure that his right hand never left yours.
“I’m sorry… I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.” You look at Peter. He was gazing at you, looking straight into your eyes.
“It’s fine, Peter. It’s not like you -”
“Y/N.” Peter cuts you off. “Whether or not I wanted to, I made you feel uncomfortable and I have to apologize. Okay?” Peter pauses. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“What is it?” You ask.
“I - I’m not as sensitive as you and I might not always notice whether you feel bad or not.” Peter continues. “If it’s alright with you… can you promise to not hide your feelings when you’re with me? I mean - it’s difficult, you know. Having to hide your feelings all the time. At least if you’re with me… even if it’s for a short time, you don’t have to carry the burden of hiding it.”
You smile at Peter, tears welling up on your eyes. “Peter…”
“But if you’re not comfortable with that, it’s fine -”
You release your hand from Peter’s hand, form a fist and raise your pinky finger. “I promise.”
Peter smiles and entangles his pinky finger into yours. “Promise.”
“Just promise that you won’t fall down the stairs again.” You joke.
Peter chuckles while reaching out for your face to wipe the tear that you didn’t notice fall from your eye.
“If you have presentations where you have to speak in front of the class, whether I’m your classmate or not, I’ll try to be there and maybe you can try to focus on me?” Peter clears his throat. “I mean… just to keep your attention out of the other people.”
You laugh and Peter joins you too. “Thanks, Pete.”
“I have something to buy at the grocery.” You tell Peter while the two of you are waiting for the traffic light to turn green. “You can go ahead.”
“Take care!” Peter shouts as the two of you go your separate ways.
“You too!” You shout back and make your way towards the grocery.
Peter waits until you’re out of sight before he goes to the alleyway to change into his suit and start his patrol. He webs his way up the building and gets a glimpse of you entering the grocery. He nods a little and webs away to find people he needs to help out.
Normal. That’s what Peter would probably describe the first hour of his patrol today - stopping thieves from running away, saving cats that got stuck on a tree and telling a lost man the directions. It was all just normal everyday, neighborhood Spider-Man things.
He was about to take a break when he felt the hair in his arms stand up.
“Y/N!” He exclaims as he hurries down towards the direction of the grocery where he last saw you.
I hope I’m wrong. I hope I’m wrong. He repeats in his head. Y/N, please, please be safe.
You were on your way to cross the street when a running child and stumbled into you, causing your groceries to fall down. You squat to pick up the groceries, you look up to search for the child, only to find him still running.
Towards the pedestrian lane.
You stand up and dash towards the kid, leaving your groceries scattered across the pavement.
Will I make it?
You run as fast as you can.
I won’t make it. The truck’s too fast.
You run faster.
A little more.
You reach for him and you push him towards (what you think is) safety as hard as hard as you can. All the energy in your body had left you and the last thing you can remember was the loud honk from the truck and then everything was silent.
Your eyes are still closed when you feel an arm tightly wrapped around you. You look up only to find yourself swinging in the air while being held and carried by none other than Spider-Man.
The two of you reach what seems to be the top of some building, you're not even sure what building it is because everything happened so fast.
Spider-Man put you down at last.
“Thank you.” You tell him as you pat down and straighten your clothes. “I’m sorry you had to...carry me. Is the - uhm - is the kid safe?” You ask him.
Spider-Man chuckles. “You were literally about to die a while ago and the first thing you think of is the well-being of other people.” He sighs. “Are YOU okay?”
You pause for a second to the sudden idea that popped into your mind while you're face-to-face with THE Spider-Man.
His voice is a little muffled, but you know that voice. You hear that voice every day. And that height. You take a step forward. That scent.
“Peter?” You step closer to the man that you’re 90% sure is your friend, Peter Parker, dressed in the Spider-Man costume. “Is that you?”
A/N: It's my first time writing for Peter Parker! How was it?? Haha. I hope I did his character justice.
I'm so excited to write five different stories with different pairings inspired from the song "You Shine". I haven't watched the musical but whenever I hear that song, I feel so encouraged and it makes me feel assured that somewhere out there, there are people who can see good things in me that I can't see for myself. Next up, Bucky Barnes x Reader! Look forward to it!
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What’s in the Box, Peter?
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy
Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between!
Ever since you started dating Peter during your freshman year of college, you always spent Mother’s Day with him and May.
Of course, you always had the customary FaceTime call with your own mother but with the prices of plane tickets constantly increasing, going home to spend the day with your family just wasn’t possible when all your money went towards rent and school expenses.
So spending the day with Peter and May became tradition, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
May Parker had practically inducted you into the family after only a few months of dating her nephew, and she was the very definition of what you thought motherhood was all about. She was understanding whenever Peter found himself in trouble - whether it be as Peter Parker or his masked superhero alter ego - and she was always willing to lend an ear whenever you or Peter needed to rant about something (even if it was about each other). She worried about Peter - of course she did - but she let him have his space to make his own mistakes and learn from them.
She may not have been Peter’s actual mother, but damn did that woman deserve the best Mother’s Day that you and Peter could muster.
You’d stayed at May’s apartment the night before rather than at yours and Peter’s apartment on the other side of the city to save yourself the commute in the morning, and you were infinitely glad that you’d done so. An extra hour of sleep was definitely worth you and Peter squeezing into the small bed in his old bedroom.
Peter still woke up early, though.
He always did, unable to really sleep in the days leading up to Mother’s Day. He grew restless and quiet, and you didn’t need to ask to know why.
He pressed his lips to your cheek before he left for his visit to his mother’s grave that morning, his jacket tugged on to protect himself from the early morning chill and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He whispered a promise of coffee when he returned, and your appreciation for him doubled in an instant.
By the time he returned, you were busy making pancakes and humming along to the song on the radio while May tittered around the kitchen despite your insistence that she let you take care of making breakfast.
It was her day, after all.
“Good morning,” Peter greeted, pressing a styrofoam cup into your hand. He pressed his lips to your temple before greeting May with a hug and wishing her a happy Mother’s Day. He set a small, wrapped box down on the counter, making you cock your head in curiosity.
“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the box in question with the spatula. You were sure that you had already gotten May a Mother’s Day gift. In fact, you had wrapped her gift yourself the night before. Had you forgotten something?
“Just a Mother’s Day gift,” he replied vaguely, a smile curling his lips. “You’ll see after breakfast.”
Your gaze kept flitting back to that mysterious little box as you finished stacking pancakes onto a large plate, as you filled three glasses of juice and set the table, and as you and Peter caught May up on all of things that you had accomplished over the course of the last semester. You were just barely managing to contain your curiosity enough to actively keep up the conversation and not be rude, and Peter wasn’t helping any.
The way that he seemed extra fidgety and the way that his gaze kept flitting to you more than usual while he talked to May about his plans once you were both finally done with grad school had you wondering if you did something wrong or even worse- if he was planning something that you didn’t know about.
Oh, God. Was he going to propose?
Outwardly, you were smiling brightly and nodding in agreement to what Peter was saying about your plans for the summer, but inwardly, you were panicking.
You loved Peter, you really did, and you’d be happy to marry him. Just not now. You’d had the discussion about marriage over a year ago, knowing that you both wanted it at some point, but you and he had both agreed that marriage was off the table until you were both done with school. You both had at least one year of grad school left, and that was only if you - ever the academic - decided to not continue your education with further certification. A proposal was at least a year away, so long as Peter adhered to the agreement you had made nearly two years ago.
You cleared the table with lightning speed once everyone had finished with their breakfast, wanting nothing more than to know what Peter was hiding. You retrieved May’s gift from Peter’s bedroom and placed it in front of her while Peter held onto the small mystery box, his fingers flexing and unflexing nervously.
Jesus Christ, you were about to implode from impatience and anxiety and-
“This is so cute!” May exclaimed, holding up the small succulent in a pot shaped like a dinosaur. “Did you find this at that shop on 47th?”
“I think so?” Peter looked to you for confirmation, but you only shrugged in response. “Y/N picked out most of the stuff in there. She has a better eye for things than I do.”
“Peter did pick out the wine, though,” you pointed out, nodding towards the fancy bottle of white wine that had cost more than your electrical bill last month. “I will, however, take credit for the plant and the memory foam slippers.”
You shared a small smile with Peter as May looked over her gifts happily. “This is so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned across the table and pulled your both into as tight a hug as she could manage with a table in the way.
“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” Peter told her, and the few happy tears she swiftly brushed away with her thumbs didn’t escape your attention.
“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” you repeated, feeling so incredibly grateful to have May in your life. “You literally deserve the best Mother’s Day for putting up with this guy for most of his life.” You gently nudged Peter in the side with your elbow as you teased, chuckling as he rolled his eyes at you while struggling to fight back an amused smile.
“Whatever,” he scoffed, and it only made you and May laugh harder. “You both love me.”
And suddenly your laughter died as your attention was dragged back to that mysterious little box, now pushed in front of you by Peter. “What’s this?”
“It’s for you,” he answered as if it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.
“I get that, but why?” You observed the small gift nervously. “It’s Mother’s Day, Pete, and I’m very much not a mother. Not unless you count being a plant mother. You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“What?” His face twisted in confusion, brows knit together and lips slightly parted. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”
What the hell? Your brows knit together as you looked from Peter to May, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Know what? I think I would know if I was a mom, Peter.” You let out a breath and started to pull at the wrapping paper. “I mean, thank you for the gift, but this was really unneces-” Your words died on the tip of your tongue as you saw what was tucked neatly into the small box.
You lifted the mug from the box, staring at the words written across the front in pretty pink script.
‘Happy (Expectant) Mother’s Day’
You blinked, too confused to speak.
“I thought you said she knew,” you heard May whisper to Peter.
“I thought she did!” your boyfriend whispered in return. “I thought she was waiting for today to tell me!”
You finally snapped out of your trance, placing the mug down on the table and turning to Peter. “Can you please explain what’s happening?”
After a beat of silence, he answered, “You’re pregnant.”
You snorted in disbelief. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant, Peter.” You took a second to mentally count the days, and your heart began to beat erratically once you realized you had been so busy with final papers and projects to remember when your last period had been. Well, shit.
“You are,” he said confidently. He draped an arm around the back of your chair before taking your hand in his. “Some nights, when it’s really quiet, I can hear the baby’s heartbeat. Scared the hell out of me when I first heard it.” Instinctively, your hands dropped to your stomach, cradling it tenderly. Leave it to your boyfriend to find out you were pregnant before you did thanks to his hyper-senses. “I thought you knew and you were planning to tell me today, you know, because it’s Mother’s Day.” He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously, his gaze flitting to May before he met your eyes again. “I, uh, realize now that you didn’t know.”
“We’re gonna have a baby?” He nodded, lips curling into a smile. “I’m gonna be a mom?” Another nod. “I thought you were gonna propose! I was so nervous!”
“I mean, I can still do that if you want,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate eyes.
“No!” you exclaimed. “I think one big life change is enough for today.”
You shared a soft, sweet kiss with Peter before turning your attention back to the mug on the table. Your fingers curled around it, holding it gently in your hands as you stared at the words again and a smile tugged at your lips.
A gentle hand on yours called your attention away from the mug and to May. The older woman was smiling widely at you and her nephew, i she’d tears glittering in her eyes. “Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N.”
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Warnings: language, plenty of angst
Peter found you on a random rooftop in Queens, your knees drawn up to your chest as you sat in front of one of the many murals of Iron Man that painted the city following the victory over Thanos.
You knew he was there before he even said anything.
Despite the sounds of the city below, you heard his gentle landing behind you, heard his light footsteps as he padded closer and closer, heard his soft sigh as he realized just what you had been doing since you disappeared from the Tower over an hour ago.
He quietly sat beside you, pulling his mask off before finally saying, “Pepper’s worried about you. You kinda just disappeared in the middle of dinner.” Peter was a comforting presence beside you as you struggled to stay afloat in your grief; your personal life preserver in your tide of emotions. “I told her I’d find you and convince you to go home before it gets too late.”
“Home,” you muttered and laughed mirthlessly. “It doesn’t feel like home without him.”
“Y/N,” Peter breathed, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I know that you… I miss him, too.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve lost him,” you whispered, your voice breaking ever so slightly as a sob threatened to escape you. Tears were blurring your vision, but no amount of tears would distort the image of Iron Man - of your father - enough to forget the pain that just seeing the tributes to him caused without fail. “I’ve lost him before, but he’d always come back. He’d always come home.” You furiously swiped at the stray tears, hating how weak it made you feel, how broken it made you feel. Especially in front of Peter. It was useless, and new tears swiftly replaced those that you wiped away. “This is the first time he’s not coming back.”
Peter didn’t respond. What do you say to someone who lost as much as you had? Your sobs filled the silence, and Peter hung his head in defeat.
“Why did it have to be him?” you choked out. You hadn’t expected Peter to answer. Hell, he was probably wondering the same thing. You tore your gaze away from the mural for the first time in nearly forty minutes, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “He knew what those fucking stones could do to him, and he still used them anyway!”
You wanted to scream and rage and cry and...and you wanted to hug your dad and never let him go. You couldn’t even remember the last time you hugged him. Had it been on the battlefield? So much had been happening around you that you couldn’t even remember if you’d hugged your dad.
The tears kept coming, faster and faster. Had you hugged your dad one last time before he died, before he sacrificed his life to put an end to Thanos once and for all? You didn’t know, and it only made your loss hurt even more.
“Why did it have to be him?” you repeated, leaning into Peter and resting your head on his shoulder. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. “Why did he have to leave me? What about Morgan? What about Pepper? What about you? Why did he have to leave us?”
“He saved us,” Peter answered, but it sounded strangled, as if he were feeling just as lost without your dad as you felt. “He beat Thanos.”
You finally looked up at your companion, scanning the features of his face. His eyes were rimmed red, unshed tears shimmering within them, and the dark circles beneath them were even more pronounced from the shadows cast over his face by the lights of the city. “We could have found another way. There had to be another way. There just had to.”
Again, Peter didn’t respond. He didn’t know how.
Instead, he took your face between his hands, gently wiping your tears away with a soft brush of his thumbs. You sat there in silence, just staring at one another and trying to communicate what neither of you could bring yourselves to say.
‘Don’t leave me, too’.
The sound of a notification on your phone broke the moment, and you hesitantly pulled your phone from your pocket to see a barrage of texts from the last hour. Some were from Pepper, a couple from Rhodey, but most were from Peter himself before he’d found you. The most recent text, however, was from Pepper, asking if you’d be home in time to say goodnight to Morgan.
Having read the text over your shoulder, Peter asked, “Want me to swing you home?”
There it was again. Home. How could the place that taunted you with memories of your father ever be a home to you again?
You glanced at the boy beside you, the boy that had been your companion in grief for the last few months. Peter was the only one that could dry your tears and ease the ache in your heart. It was no surprise that it was him and not Sam or Rhodey or even Pepper that came after you once you disappeared in the middle of ‘family dinner’ at the Tower.
“Will you stay with me?” you asked, and after a brief flash of panic in his chocolate eyes, he nodded.
And just like that, with a simple nod of his head, an immense weight lifted from your shoulders. Maybe the Tower would eventually feel like home again so long as Peter was by your side.
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Y/N: Croissants: dropped
Tony: Road: works ahead
Clint: BBQ sauce: on my titties
Peter: Shavacado: fre
Natasha: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead
Steve, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.
Steve, hunched over a computer pressing one key at a time: What is Free shavacado
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: language, the briefest mention of sex, ANGST
Inspired by: 8 Letters - Why Don't We
There are so many things that Peter loves about you.
He loves the way your tongue peaks out between your lips when you’re concentrating too hard on your chemistry homework. He loves the way you doodle in the margins of your notebook when you get bored in history class. He loves the way you draw patterns on the back of his hand absentmindedly during movie nights with Ned and MJ. He loves the way your nose scrunches slightly and your eyes crinkle when you laugh. He loves the way you look with nothing but his baggy t-shirt on.
He could go on and on.
There are so many things that Peter loves about you, but he just can’t bring himself to admit - to himself or to you or to anyone else - that he loves you.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to love you. It’s just that people he’s lost people that he loves.
He loved his parents, and they died. He loved Uncle Ben, and he died. He loved Tony, and he died.
Sure, there are plenty of other people that he loves - like Aunt May, Ned, and little Morgan - that he still has, but he doesn’t want to risk it.
Peter doesn’t want to lose you too, so he doesn’t say it, doesn’t acknowledge just how deeply he feels for you.
And some days he wonders if that’s fair to you, to deprive you of something you so freely have him months ago. The little 'I love you' had tumbled from your lips so easily as you laid tangled in the sheets beneath him, breathless and beautiful and so entirely too good for someone who felt as broken as he did. After that day, you spoke the words often, but you never expected anything from him in return.
You wait so patiently for him, and for that alone Peter wants to love you. You gave so much of yourself to him - your time, your body, your heart - and Peter wants to return the favor, but he just...can’t.
He’s come close to telling you what he knows you want to hear. He’s come so goddamn close, but every time the words are at the tip of his tongue, he swallows them whole and pushes the feelings down, down, down, down until they’ve disappeared from his mind completely. It’s like the minute he finally gives in to just how strongly he feels for you, you’ll slip through his fingers one way or another, and he’s not sure he could survive that.
He was still raw from Tony’s death, after all, and if he lost you now...
He’s pulled from his thoughts by a light flick on his forehead, and he lifts his eyes from his still blank assignment to see you smiling softly at him. “I can literally feel you thinking too hard, Pete,” you tell him, and though there’s a teasing lilt to your voice, he can see just how concerned you are in your eyes. “Wanna talk about it?”
He smiles at you in return, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, it’s nothing,” he lies. You see right through him, just as you always do when he gets like this. He cups your face, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone tenderly. “I’m fine. I promise.”
You don’t push, you don’t prod. You never do. Instead, you give him the time he needs to sort through his thoughts and feelings, knowing that eventually he’ll open up. And when he does, you’ll listen closely, give advice if the situation warrants it, and reassure him that everything’s okay despite the worst of his worries.
It’s one of the many things that he loves about you.
“I love you, you know,” you say instead, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. Your breath fans over his face, smelling of the spearmint gum that you’re always chewing on, and the familiarity of it, of you, helps him relax just enough to forget his fears for a moment. Your fingertips trail down the length of his arm to his hand, entangling your hand in his.
You help ground him, anchoring him to you and to the present, and, again, he thinks you deserve to be loved in a way that he’s not sure he can. You deserve so much more than he can give you.
He wants to tell you as much, but Peter also wants to be selfish and never let you go.
So instead, he says, “I know.”
You don’t deflate when he doesn’t say it back. You don’t frown or rip your hand from his or run from the room in anger and frustration and sadness. Instead, your smile grows wider before you press your lips to his.
Peter feels the guilt creep in, slowly overtaking the fear, and he wants to just say it so badly. He wants to tell you, over and over and over again until you’re sick of hearing it. But he doesn’t. He can’t.
“Y/N, I-” He tries, he really fucking tries, but he chokes on the words. Why is it so hard to just tell you what you deserve to hear? Why is it so hard to say it back? He feels so frustrated and so, so goddamn undeserving of you, and it hurts to think that he could be hurting you by not saying it back.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
You press your lips to his again and squeeze his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, Pete. I know.” Another kiss pressed against his lips. “I know. I promise I know.”
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Cabin Fever (Part Two)
Cabin Fever Masterlist
Summary: What was meant to be a weekend at the cabin with Peter, Pepper, and Morgan very quickly turned into a weekend alone with your best friend and your recently acknowledged feelings for him thanks to a certain assumption made by your step-mother.
Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, angst?, too much overthinking, a tad bit of fluff
Telling Peter that you had lied to him about why Pepper and Morgan had suddenly cancelled their trip to the cabin didn’t go exactly as you had thought it would. His response to that fact that you had lied, however, was exactly as understanding as you had expected him to be, just as he always was when you finally found the courage to tell him the truth.
“I know.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye before pressing the bottle of wine to his lips, and- for fuck’s sake, were you jealous of a wine bottle? You rolled your lips together, your attention firmly on him as he wiped his wine-stained lips on the back of his arm. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No,” you blurted before shaking your head. “I mean, yes. Maybe?” You sighed as he chuckled softly, settling the half-empty bottle of wine on the dock between the two of you. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Pepper...made a few assumptions. About us. Together.”
If you hadn’t been watching him closely for his reaction, you would have missed the nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes before he schooled his expression. “I see. And these assumptions, they-”
“She thought we needed a weekend alone after the busy semester we both had.”
He smiled and nodded, the implication of your words completely going over his head. “That’s nice of her. It has been a long time since we had some time to hang out, just the two of us. Last time was that weekend before winter break ended, right?”
“Mhm,” you answered noncommittally. “But Peter, I think you’re missing the p-”
“We had a movie night, and you accidentally bought Star Trek instead of Star Wars,” he reminisced, a small smile curving his lips as he leaned back on his arms and stared at the colors of the sunset beyond the trees on the horizon. “I had to spend all night explaining the differences in the two franchises to you.”
“And I’m still not convinced that you didn’t buy the wrong movie on purpose, but the Star Wars franchise is a cinematic masterpiece and the movies deserve to be watched multiple times to truly appreciate-”
“Peter!” you interrupted. Your raised voice caused him to jump, but if you didn’t say what was on your mind now, you probably never would. You had just a fraction of a second to figure out how you wanted to proceed with telling Peter about Pepper’s real reason for not joining you that weekend, and in that miniscule amount of time, you panicked. There was no way in hell you could tell Peter that your step-mom thought you were going to spend the entire weekend having sex after a prolonged separation, so you did the first thing you could think of to put an end to the conversation altogether.
You pushed him into the lake.
Your mouth dropped open in shock and your eyes widened as Peter resurfaced, his hair sticking to his forehead and his already tight t-shirt clinging to his body. It took considerable effort to lift your gaze from his chest and the way that the wet t-shirt clung to his muscled form. You bit your lip and tried to keep your eyes trained firmly on his face, hoping that he didn’t see you openly staring at him like you wanted to completely devour him. And yet, staring at his face, as droplets of water trailed along his jawline and down his neck, did nothing to help the growing heat beneath your skin.
You wanted to trace the trail of those water droplets. With your tongue. For fuck’s sake, when did he get so attractive?
When he wiped the water from his face, his chocolate eyes narrowed at you. He looked absolutely adorable - pouting like that - and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from you. You slapped your hand over your mouth to try to mask it, but it was too late. “What the fuck was that for, Y/N?” he questioned, and though he tried to look angry, the corners of his mouth were twitching into the ghost of a smile.
You let yourself laugh freely then, feeling entirely more lighthearted now than you had only minutes ago when you were contemplating possibly making your weekend alone with Peter a thousand times more awkward by telling him the truth. “I had to get you to stop talking about Star Wars somehow,” you explained, and thankfully it was enough of a truth that he didn’t instantly spot the lie in your explanation. He really would have talked about Star Wars for hours if you let him. “Star Wars is so overrated, Peter.”
“You take that back!” he cried, wading through the shallow water towards you.
“Not gonna happen, Parker.” You laughed again, but your laughter was cut short when he stepped between your legs and wrapped his arms around your waist. The cool lake water seeping through the material of your shirt did absolutely nothing to douse the growing heat you felt at being so close to him. “What are you doing, Peter?”
“Do you take it back?” he questioned.
You shook your head, watching him curiously.
His chocolate eyes sparkled with mischief, his brows raised in question, and his lips curled into a devastatingly attractive grin. “Take it back, Y/N. Last chance.”
Your mouth opened to respond, to tell him that you would never take back what you said - because really, the Star Wars movies needed to be knocked down a peg after Peter did absolutely nothing but talk them up - but you never managed to form the words. Peter’s proximity and the heat of his hands on your lower back made it impossible to speak. Hell, it made it impossible to even think straight. If you had managed to actually say something, you’re sure that it would have been nothing more than garbled nonsense.
A scream tore through you as Peter tugged you into the water with him, and once your feet found purchase on the sandy bottom of the lake, you surfaced, sputtering and shivering and feeling significantly less heat now that Peter’s hands were no longer on your body.
“You asshole!” you cried before bursting into a fit of giggles. He playfully splashed you, and you wholeheartedly returned the favor, sending a handful of water directly into his face. “What if I had my phone in my pocket?”
“I knew you didn’t.” He splashed again, laughing as you tried to shield yourself from the incoming water with your hands. “You left it on the couch. Besides, you asked for this when you pushed me into the water first.”
“Oh? I asked for it, did I?” you taunted as you waded through the water, closer and closer and closer until you were standing inches apart. “You sure about that, Parker?”
He eyed you skeptically and took a step back, but he was still within your reach. You pounced, dragging Peter beneath the surface of the water with you. After a moment, strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back to the surface. As soon as you and Peter locked eyes with one another, the sounds of your combined laughter echoed across the surface of the lake, but you quickly sobered and averted your gaze when you realized just how close you were.
You tried to ignore the feeling of his arms caging you against his chest, the feeling of his warm breath fanning across your cheek, the feeling of his heart beating beneath your hand on his chest. You tried to ignore the way that Peter’s hold on you never ceased, the way that Peter’s gaze was burning into your skin, the way that his fingers flexed against your lower back at the slightest move from you.
“We should probably-”
You bit your lip, trying to hide the curl of your lips. Speaking at the same time was a talent that you and Peter had, never failing to irritate your dad back when you had first met, and it seemed that even a prolonged separation didn’t improve your conversational timing at all. “What’s up?” you asked him, finally getting the courage to look up at him.
You glanced up at him from under your lashes, and you were surprised to see him staring at you. The expression on his face had caught you off guard. It was so...soft, so tender with a certain heat hidden beneath in his chocolate eyes that you hadn’t seen directed at you before. It was a look that you recognized, though. You’d seen it when he looked at Liz during your sophomore year of high school, when he looked at MJ during your senior year of high school, when he looked at Gwen during your freshman year of college.
But now he was looking at you.
“What?” you asked, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze.
He stared at you, opening and closing his mouth over and over again as if he was trying to sort out what he wanted to say before he said something that made the situation ten times more awkward than it already was with your admission. His dark eyes, looking like pools of golden honey from the sunlight reflected in them, scanned your features, and you held your breath, waiting and waiting and waiting for him to say something, anything.
“I’ve missed this,” he finally said. “I’ve missed you. Is it selfish of me to say that I wished you never went to MIT? That I wished you stayed in New York with me?” After a beat of silence, he quickly added, “And with Harry and MJ?”
Of all the things you had been expecting him to say, that certainly wasn’t one of them. You thought he’d maybe tell you that the wet clothes clinging to him was making him uncomfortable or that he was hungry or that he wanted to force you to watch Star Wars until you finally appreciated his favorite movie series, but this... You hadn’t expected him to say something like that, not even in your wildest dreams.
Maybe you were looking into it too much. Just because he missed you, just because he wanted you to stay in New York - to stay with him - didn’t mean that he returned your feelings...whatever those feelings were.
You shook your head, both in response to his questions and to attempt to clear your head. “I don’t think it’s selfish. Is it selfish of me to wish that you didn’t need to stay in New York? To wish that you could’ve come to MIT with me? To wish that we could spend everyday together in Cambridge, annoying the hell out of Harley with our endless pop culture references and trying every single pizza place on campus with Ned?” You rested your head against his shoulder to hide your flustered expression from his view. If he saw the way that you were staring at him with heart eyes you’d be done for. There’d be absolutely no hiding how you felt. “I missed you, too.”
“Even if it was selfish, I don’t think I’d care.”
Well, shit. Peter Parker was going to be the end of you if he kept saying shit like that.
“Is that right?” You allowed yourself to hope - hope that he felt the same about you, hope that his heart raced the same way that your heart raced whenever you smiled at each other, hope that he felt just as at home in your arms as you felt in his, hope that he he wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him right now.
But hope is a fickle bitch.
“Of course. You’re my best friend, Y/N.” He laughed then, completely unaware that his words had caused your heart to break just a little. “Don’t tell Ned, though.”
“Right.” You cleared your throat and stepped away from him. You pushed down the hurt and forced a smile onto your face. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, Parker.” You gave him a quick wink before turning around and wading towards the shore, needing to get away from Peter as fast as humanly possible.
You didn’t want him to see how hurt you were by his innocent declaration.
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Cabin Fever (Part One)
Cabin Fever Masterlist
Summary: What was meant to be a weekend at the cabin with Peter, Pepper, and Morgan very quickly turned into a weekend alone with your best friend and your recently acknowledged feelings for him thanks to a certain assumption made by your step-mother.
Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, angst?, too much overthinking
“So Pepper just called,” you announced, staring at your phone with a confused expression. “Her and Morgan aren’t gonna make the trip up here this weekend.”
Your travel companion popped his head around the door of the open fridge, staring at you with his big chocolate eyes that never failed to send your heart racing. Not that you’d ever tell him that, though. Nope, there was absolutely nothing between you and Peter Parker but good ol’, super platonic friendship. Absolutely zero non-platonic feelings. Nope. Nada.
“They’re not coming?”
You shrugged, tossing your phone onto the couch before you sank down into the cushions beside it. “Nope.”
“Did she say why?” Peter asked as he shut the fridge.
You bit your lip nervously, your gaze sliding to Peter as he walked around the couch and sat beside you. Pepper had told you why, but you weren’t really sure if sharing that reason was the best course of action. Your step-mom’s reason had been a little presumptive, to say the least.
“No, not really,” you lied, and you smiled at him reassuringly. “Maybe something came up at work.”
He nodded, but the skeptical look he sent you when he thought you weren’t looking told you that you hadn’t gotten any better at lying to him in the six years since you first met as high school freshmen. But, Peter being Peter, he let it go. He let you have your secrets, just as you let him have his.
The only problem with that was that you inevitably always ended up telling him your secrets, just as he always told you his.
Peter spoke up beside you, pulling you from your thoughts. “So if Pepper and Morgan aren’t coming, what’s our plan for the weekend?” He nervously played with his fingers, and your attention was drawn to the action. What did Peter have to be nervous about? “Should we just go home?”
“No!” you said more abruptly than you had intended. You averted your eyes and cleared your throat before turning back to Peter. “No, Pepper would feel bad if we just scraped the weekend altogether. We can still swim and play games and relax. You know, enjoy the first week of our summer break and celebrate surviving finals for another semester.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We should definitely celebrate the end of finals. This semester was kinda the semester from hell, wasn’t it?”
You huffed. That was an understatement. Both you and Peter were double majoring - him at Columbia, you at your father’s alma mater, MIT - and it was slowly but surely draining the life out of you. Your only saving grace was the few weekends you returned to New York, splitting time between being home with Pepper and Morgan and staying with Peter in his far too small dorm room. Unfortunately, the workload for your courses during the past semester had made it nearly impossible to find a free weekend to go home, and you wanted nothing more than to enjoy a weekend with Peter.
Pepper seemed to think the same thing, though her reasoning was slightly different than yours.
“At least I’ll get to graduate a semester early,” you answered. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the back of the couch, finally letting the fact that you had zero responsibilities for the next three months sink in. “If it weren’t for that, I definitely wouldn’t have overloaded my schedule like that. Do you think you can overdose on coffee? I think I nearly overdosed on coffee last semester.”
His responding laughter made your eyes flutter open, and you drank in his appearance - cheeks flushed from the early summer heat, messy hair beginning to curl from the humidity, his muscled arms on full display in his tight t-shirt, and his chapped lips curled into the most adorable smile. You ached to reach out to him, to run a hand through his curls, to drag your fingers over his arms, to press your lips against his.
You moved away and clasped your hands in your lap. “I, uh- I’m gonna go unpack, I think.”
If Peter noticed your sudden distance and change in demeanor, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he let you go, dragging your suitcase behind you to the bedroom that your dad had set up for you years ago in the hopes that one day he’d get you back after Thanos had turned you to dust alongside Peter.
Tony got you back, but he never got to see you in the cabin he had built for his family, never got to see you in the room that he had set up just for you.
The first time you came to the cabin with Pepper and Morgan after the Blip, you hadn’t even been able to stay in the room for more than five minutes, and you had ended up sleeping with Morgan in her tiny bed. The only exception to that was the night of your dad’s funeral, when both you and Morgan had crawled into bed with Pepper, anchoring yourself to what little family you had left.
The second time you came to the cabin with Pepper and Morgan, it had been for a weekend getaway before you left for college, and Peter and May had joined the Stark family. You’d only managed to sleep in your room that weekend because Peter had crawled beneath the blankets with you and held you close after he found you sat against the wall, your eyes bloodshot and wet from your tears. He’d slept with you in your room every weekend you’d spent at the cabin since.
And this weekend would be no different, even though the feelings that you felt for him were very drastically different than they had been all those other times you’d shared your bed with him. You were absolutely sure that sharing your bed with Peter Parker all weekend was slowly, but surely, going to kill you. Even the thought of laying in bed with him, close enough to touch him, to kiss him was sending your heart racing.
Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so bad and it confused you so much. He was your best friend, he was nerdy Peter, he was...he was so adorable and- and when did you stop seeing him as just Peter and start seeing him as so, so much more?
You jumped, startled. You spun around to face Peter, your eyes wide as they latched onto his concerned expression. You blinked, twisting the material of the sweatshirt that you held in your hands. “Um, yeah.” You cleared your throat and dropped the sweatshirt into your dresser with the rest of your clothes you’d brought along for the weekend. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just kinda...I don’t know. I’ll give you some time to unpack. I’m gonna get some fresh air.”
You slid past him in the doorway before he had a chance to protest, and after grabbing a random bottle of wine from the wine rack, you found yourself sitting on the dock, your shoes beside you on the wooden surface and your feet dragging through the tepid lake water.
Drinking directly from the bottle, you thought back to the phone call with Pepper earlier in the day that had sent your thoughts haywire in the first place.
‘You haven’t seen each other in months, Y/N,” she had said. ‘You deserve to have some time together. Alone.’
That in and of itself had been innocent enough. There hadn’t been any suggestive undertone to her words, no incorrect assumptions. It could easily have been interpreted as Pepper urging you to have a relaxing weekend with your best friend.
Except that’s not at all what she had meant, and that became abundantly clear as the call went on.
‘Just be safe, Y/N. You and Peter are both adults, and I trust you to make good choices. I know your dad would have been over the moon to know how close you and Peter have gotten, but I don’t think he’d be too eager to be a grandpa if he were still around.’ You had nearly choked on your own spit when she said that, and before you were even able to respond she continued, ‘There are condoms under the sink in my bathroom if you didn’t bring your own. Seriously, Y/N, be safe. Enjoy your weekend with Peter.’
You had been too tongue-tied to say anything more than a quick goodbye, and the entire conversation had been playing on repeat in your head ever since. It was torturing you, slowly driving you mad in the same manner that your sudden change in feelings for Peter were driving you mad.
The wooden dock creaked, and without even turning to look, you knew that it was Peter padding down the length of the dock to join you at the end. He was silent as he pulled off his shoes and socks, silent as he sat beside you, silent as he plunged his feet into the water and nudged your foot with his big toe.
You pressed the wine bottle to your lips and tilted it, drinking deeply and swallowing thickly. “I lied to you earlier,” you admitted. You held the wine bottle out to him in silent offering, and once he took it from your hand you twisted your hands together in your lap nervously. “About why Pepper and Morgan aren’t coming this weekend.”
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader
Warnings: language, very minor sexual suggestions
Note: I am currently sick- thus, this was created. Also watched a bunch of Teen Wolf while writing this, so took inspiration from Kira’s thunder kitsune powers for the reader’s powers.
It had started off as just sniffles – an occasional sneeze here and a blown nose there – but within the course of a few days, what you had hoped was just allergies had turned into a full-blown, misery-inducing cold.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it were a normal cold, but because normal wasn’t in your vocabulary, you had been placed on quarantine to stop your sneezing and coughing from taking down an entire electrical grid in the city. Instead, you were irritating Tony every ten minutes as the lights flickered within Stark Tower and F.R.I.D.A.Y. updated him on the power outages throughout the building that your sneezing and coughing was causing.
“Kid, I’m gonna need you to stop shorting the power in the lab,” he had told you over the intercom after your latest coughing fit had caused a slight blackout within that part of the building. “Do we need to get some lightning rods for you or something? Maybe pad your room in rubber? I’ll take any suggestions, kid. Anything that’ll help keep you from frying the equipment in my lab.”
If you hadn’t been absolutely miserable, his growing frustration may have been funny.
Your quarantine only made you more miserable. You hadn’t been to school in days – hell, you’d barely left your room. Your meals were brought to you, your supply of tissues restocked every other day when Bucky or Bruce would leave a plastic bag from the drug store outside of your door, and your communication with others was done solely through the intercom or with F.R.I.D.A.Y. serving as a messenger.
To make matters worse, on the third day of you quarantine a particularly powerful sneeze had shorted all the electronics in your room. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been unable to access your room for three hours while Tony repaired the damage, your laptop had to be completely wiped in order to assess the damage, and your phone – well, your phone was fried.
That’s probably why, on the sixth day of your quarantine, a friendly neighborhood Spider-Boy showed up at Stark Tower, rambling on and on about unanswered texts and awkward voicemails – that you definitely needed to listen to once Tony sorted out your phone situation – and ‘why the hell weren’t you in school all week’.
“C’mon, Mr. Stark. Let me in to see her,” you heard Peter begging through the intercom after he had finally managed to track Tony down after trying and failing to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to open the door to your bedroom for nearly thirty minutes. “I just wanna make sure she’s feeling okay.”
“Kid, the last thing we need is a fried spider,” was Tony’s response, making you roll your eyes.
“I won’t hurt him,” you defended, your throat sore and scratchy from days upon days of feeling like you would cough up a lung. “I just want some cuddles, and I don’t see anyone else lining up at my door to cuddle me.” You sneezed, and the lights in your room flickered. You hoped your sneezed hadn’t affected the electricity anywhere else or you’d never convince Tony to let Peter into your room. “Please, Tony,” you pleaded. “I just want to see Peter.”
“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter joined your pleading, and you knew that with the combined efforts of the two of you, he’d crack eventually. “She won’t hurt me. I know she won’t.”
You heard the older man groan over the intercom, and after another second, the lock on your door disengaged. “Thank you, Tony!” you exclaimed at the same time as Peter happily shouted, “You’re the best, Mr. Stark.”
“Don’t make me regret this,” Tony warned, sounding just as exasperated as you imagined he was. You smiled widely despite knowing that neither Tony nor Peter could see you. Tony Stark was good at many things but being able to tell his protégé and his ward no when they both pressed hard enough was not one of those things.
Within ten minutes, Peter was at your door. He had a fuzzy blanket draped over his shoulders, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands, and his laptop tucked under one arm while a fresh box of tissues was tucked under the other. He beamed at you when you opened the door, but his smile quickly faded as he took in your appearance. “You, uh- you look like-”
“Shit?” you guessed, hating how nasally your voice sounded. You tried to laugh when you saw his cheeks tinge pink as he shrugged, but your attempt at laughing quickly turned into a coughing fit. The lights flickered again, and Peter’s eyed you skeptically.
“Is this why you haven’t been answering my texts and calls all week?” he asked, though you assumed he already knew the answer to that question. You cocked your head to the side and raised a brow at him, moving to the side to let him into your room and past you. “You killed your phone, didn’t you?”
“Can you kill something that was never alive to begin with?” you asked rhetorically. You crawled onto your bed and crossed your legs, waiting for Peter to join you. “Did I fry my phone and make it completely unusable? Yes. Did I kill it? No.”
“Sounds like you killed it,” he quipped with a teasing grin. “Here. Pepper made this for you.” He handed you the bowl of soup, and you happily took it from him, inhaling the steam that rose off the liquid and letting it warm your throat and sinuses. You sighed in relief as you felt it soothing the inflammation that made it difficult to breath and speak. The sound didn’t escape Peter’s attention, and he smiled softly at you before settling a hand on your bare knee. “Better?”
“I will be,” you reassured and returned his smile. You let him mother hen you as you ate the soup in quiet. He made sure you had enough water, made sure that you weren’t feeling feverish, made sure that a box of tissues was within your reach, made sure that you were comfortable – ‘Peter, you really don’t need to fluff my pillows again’ – and made sure that you had taken the recommended dose of cough syrup throughout the day.
Finally – finally! – he joined you on the bed after pulling the now empty bowl from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. “Someone asked for cuddles?” he questioned sheepishly – and oh so adorably – as he settled in the spot beside you.
“I believe that someone is me,” you returned. You moved closer to him, but something in the back of your mind made you stop. “Are you sure?”
His face twisted in confusion and his brow furrowed tightly. “Sure about what?”
“That I won’t hurt you.” Right on cue, you coughed, causing the lights to flicker once again. “I can’t control it, Peter. I could hurt you, and if that happens, I don’t know what I-”
Your train of thought was interrupted by a warm hand on your cheek and soft brown eyes boring into yours. “Y/N, I literally trust you with my life. Out there and in here.” His thumb trailed over your cheekbone, his touch igniting your sense. You really wished you weren’t sick. If you were healthy, you’d definitely pounce and show him your appreciation for him and his trust.
“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”
He shrugged. “Seems like it’s nothing more than a cold, but your powers are making it, like, ten times worse for you.” His hand dropped away from your face, but his arms opened, inviting you into his embrace. “C’mere, pretty girl.”
“Pretty girl? Didn’t you say I looked like shit earlier?”
“In my defense, I never actually said that. You just assumed that that was what I was going to say.” You scooted closer to Peter and slumped into his arms, sighing at the contact after going days without. “But you’re always a pretty girl. Even if you’re sick and look like shit.”
You swatted at his shoulder and laughed, but another coughing fit soon took over. The lights flickered overhead and a mechanically buzzing in the walls could be heard for a few seconds before the room grew silent once more. Once you were sure that the need to cough had died down, you relaxed against Peter. “Can we take a nap? Please?”
“Yeah, of course.” He guided your bodies down to the mattress, settling your heads atop your pillow and pulling the blanket over your bodies. “You’ll tell me if you need anything?”
“Definitely,” you murmured against the skin of his neck, your eyes drooping shut. “Missed you.”
“Missed you, too, pretty girl,” you heard Peter respond before you finally let your exhausted body rest.
When you woke up a few hours later, your body shaking from your latest coughing fit, the New York skyline was lit up with different shades of pinks and reds and oranges as the sun sank below the horizon. Peter bolted awake beside you, a comforting hand on your back to rub soothing circles over the fabric of your t-shirt.
Again, the lights flickered, and the mechanical buzzing sound returned, even louder than before. This time, though, the lights grew brighter and brighter before your bedroom was eventually plunged into darkness.
“Peter,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he reassured quickly. “I’m fine, but, uh-” He held up his phone, the screen remaining completely black as he pressed the home button over and over again. “I think you killed my phone.”
You groaned and flopped back against your mattress, covering your face with your hands. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
You were interrupted by Tony’s voice over the intercom, sounding just as irritated as you imagined he was. “Okay, Pikachu.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “Not sure how you managed to do it, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. can’t access anything on your floor. The locks, the lights, the elevator. All of it. Until I can figure out how to fix this, you’re not going anywhere. That means you, too, Spiderling.”
“But Aunt May said to-” The distinct click of the intercom disconnecting sounded, and Peter slumped against the mattress beside you, pressing his face into your neck. “I guess I’m stuck here.”
“You won’t hear me complaining,” you quipped.
You felt him smile against your neck while his arm wound itself around your waist. “I’m not complaining,” he defended. He pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss, and you sighed happily, fingers twining in his messy hair. To prove his point, he pressed kisses along the column of your neck, across your jaw and cheeks, and finally firmly against your lips. “I’m definitely okay with being stuck in my girlfriend’s bedroom. Even if she’s sick and unintentionally causing blackouts in the building.”
You smiled against his lips as he settled himself between your legs, and you whispered, “Whoever said giving you a perfectly good reason to stay the night was unintentional?”
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Peter Parker Aesthetic:
Quentin Beck Aesthetic:
The main character aesthetics to celebrate chapter 4 of Deceit and Devotion. Updates every weekend.
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, some fluff and angst
You were startled awake by a loud crack of thunder, wind howling through the alleyway outside, and heavy raindrops battering against the window. The forecast hadn’t mentioned a storm, yet here you were, awake and likely unable to fall back asleep because of the noise outside. The time on your phone read 3:23, and you knew that it would be hours yet before you needed to prepare for another long day of classes.
You rubbed your eyes and stretched your tired limbs before peeling your blanket away from your body and swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. You stumbled groggily to the kitchen for a glass of water, and after ensuring that the door to your parents’ bedroom was closed, you put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and leaned against the counter, scrolling through social media on your phone as you waited for the popcorn to be done.
A few minutes later, with a bowl of popcorn in hand, you were padding back to your room and closing the door softly behind you. You had planned to just lay in bed and watch a movie on your laptop to pass the time until you officially needed to be out of bed and starting your morning routine before school, but the flashing battery symbol at the bottom of your laptop’s screen put a temporary halt to those plans while you scrambled to find the charging cable.
It was nowhere to be found in your bedroom – not on your desk, not under you bed, not even hidden behind your backpack and the stack of textbooks that you hadn’t even touched the night before. You groaned loudly before retracing your steps from the last time you remembered having the cable, and after nearly ten minutes of searching various places around your apartment, you finally found it wedged between the cushions on the couch.
It would have taken mere seconds to plug the cable in and to resume your intended movie night – morning? – if it hadn’t been for the lightning outside lighting up a silhouette on your fire escape as the person opened your window and began to crawl through it.
You felt your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, a sense of panic bubbling to the surface and a scream of terror at the back of your throat, but that all quickly disappeared once you realized who it was.
“Fucking hell, Peter!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low enough to not wake your parents. Your wide eyes took in his appearance – his hair and clothes soaked from the rain, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, his cheeks drained of all color. “You scared the hell out of me! Hurry up and get in here. You’re gonna get sick.”
“Can’t sleep,” he answered your unspoken question of why he was even at your apartment rather than his own three blocks over before climbing the rest of the way through your window. “I just- I can’t-”
You nodded in understanding as he struggled to get the words out. “Nightmares again?” you asked, knowing that more often than not, since you and him and the rest of your friends were returned after the Blip, Peter had dreamt of space, of Tony Stark, of Thanos, of everything that had been lost in the aftermath.
His only response was to avert his eyes, as if he were ashamed of the truth of the matter. You bit your lip, your heart aching for him. Wordlessly, you dug through the drawers of your dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt that you had stolen from Peter months ago and old sweatpants that you were pretty sure belonged to your dad at one point in time. “Here. Go change while I get a movie ready for us.”
Peter sent you the barest of smiles and took the clothes from your hand. “Star Wars?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
“Nope,” you responded. The corners of your lips curled up into a wide smile. “Harry Potter. You crashing my early morning movie is fine, but we’re at least gonna watch what I wanna watch.” You watched him closely as he nodded before disappearing into your bathroom to change, and by the time you had the movie queued up and ready to play, he reappeared and crawled into bed beside you.
Your heart was racing as you pressed yourself closer to him during the opening scene of the movie, your arms winding around his middle and your ear pressed against his chest. The sound of his heart beating sent a wave of calm washing over your entire body, and the feel of his hand resting on the exposed skin of your lower back made your body buzz pleasantly with warmth.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” you finally asked after you felt him relax completely. “I understand if you don’t. I just don’t like when- I hate seeing-” You trailed off, tilting your head slightly to look up at him only to find him already staring down at you with chocolate eyes. You lifted a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, and he sighed at the touch. “I’m worried about you, Pete. You hardly sleep anymore.”
“I sleep when I’m with you,” he answered before turning his head slightly to press a light kiss to the palm of your hand. “I- I don’t have nightmares when I’m with you, Y/N.”
You couldn’t control the curl of your lips after hearing his words. “I keep your nightmares away?” He had never said anything of the sort before, so this was all new to you. It would explain why he’d made a habit of appearing at your window at the end of his patrol two or three times a week, why he’d made a habit of crawling into bed with you when you nodded sleepily and scooted to the side to give him enough room beneath the blanket beside you.
“Yeah,” he whispered the admission. “It’s like you help- you help remind me of the good, and the good overwhelms the bad for a little while.”
You rolled away from him slightly, resting your head on the pillow beside his. He rolled onto his side, your noses only inches apart. “I’m happy I can help, Peter.” Your hand found his beneath the blanket and you squeezed gently. “I’d let you sleep here every night, but I think May and my parents might not be as willing to let that happen.”
He scoffed. “It’s not like we- we don’t do- we haven’t done that.”
“Sex?” you questioned teasingly, laughing as he blushed brightly. You pressed a quick peck to his lips and added, “Not yet anyway.”
His eyes widened and the blush across his cheeks only spread further, creeping down his neck and up to his ears. “Y/N, we- did you- what?”
“You heard me, Spider-Boy.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering longer with the promise of more before pulling away and smiling at him. “Someday. But for now, you look like you haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”
“Try forty-eight,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Get some sleep, Pete. I’ll keep the nightmares away.”
A couple hours later, as the credits of the movie played on your laptop, your mom found you curled beneath the covers with Peter, your head rested on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. She let it go that time, quietly closing the door as she left the room to ensure that your dad didn’t find you in bed with a boy, but you’d most certainly be getting a talk about the birds and the bees in the very near future.
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Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injury, a tad bit angsty?
Note: I haven’t written anything new in the marvel fandom for 4+ years now, so this is me dipping my toes back into it before I start working on new series that I have planned. And because I hate myself sometimes, I decided to write something for a character I’ve never written for, our smol bean peter. Hopefully I did okay???
A typical Tuesday for you was, well, normal.
You’d go to school, mildly pay attention in class, and do your best to stay out of whatever drama was currently overtaking the halls of Midtown High. When the final bell of the day rang, you walked home with your headphones in, playing loud music to drown out the sounds of the city. You’d get home from school, maybe have a less than healthy snack, and watch a random television program until your mom was trying to pull you away from the couch for dinner. After dinner was eaten - and the dishes were cleaned and drying, because you needed that weekly allowance money - you shut yourself in your room to work on homework and to subsequently procrastinate that homework by playing mobile games on your phone. Usually, you’d end up falling asleep with one of your textbooks open to the page you’d been in the middle of reading and with your phone slowly dying in your hand because Candy Crush was lighting up your screen and draining the battery.
Pretty uneventful, right?
This Tuesday, however, was anything but uneventful.
You should’ve known from the moment that Peter Parker spilled chocolate milk on your white top at lunch that the day was going to be anything but your typical Tuesday. It only got worse when he shoved a handful of napkins onto your chest, dabbing at the stain while stammering and blushing and being so frustratingly cute that you couldn’t bring yourself to yell at him for practically pawing at your chest in the middle of the cafeteria.
It didn’t end there.
Your locker jammed between fifth and sixth period, preventing you from grabbing the calculus assignment that you had spent hours trying to complete over the weekend and making you unable to turn it in on time. The worn strap of your backpack finally broke on your walk home from school, and you were forced to carry the heavy bag in your arms, making the limbs numb and tingly by the time you finally reached your apartment. Your mom had picked up a rare night shift at the hospital at the last minute, leaving you to fend for yourself for dinner – which, in normal circumstances, would have been fine, but the Moroccan place down the street that you ordered from had given you the wrong food and you were too hungry to call them and have the order corrected.
You figured that would be the end of it. You figured that there was absolutely no way that anything could go wrong as you spent the rest of your evening actually working on homework, sprawled lazily across your bed, and bopping your head in time to the music coming through your headphones.
Oh, how wrong you were.
It had to be nearing midnight when you were startled from your chemistry homework by the sound of banging on the fire escape outside your window. You paused your music, slightly startled and more than a little confused. Sure, there were occasionally stray cats that somehow found their way to the metal platform outside your window, and sure, sometimes those cats where assholes and pushed each other around every now and then – but this…that thump either came from a very, very large cat, or someone was outside your room.
You got your answer when a very sweaty, very tired looking Peter Parker stumbled through your window and landed face down on the floor, groaning softly. Your mouth soundlessly opened and closed, opened and closed, opened and closed as you tried to find your words, but the Spider-Man suit that he wore and the red mask clutched tightly in his hand had left you absolutely speechless.
You easily stared at him for five minutes, trying to process what had just happened. Did Peter Parker really just crawl through your window and then pass out on your floor? Was Peter Parker fucking Spider-Man? Was Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – in your bedroom? Did Spider-Man touch your boobs today?
“What the fuck?” you finally spoke, startling Peter as he looked up at you with wide chocolate eyes before panic sunk in and he jumped up to his feet abruptly, which in turn only served to startle you more and make you repeat, “What the fuck?”
“Y/N?” he asked, as if he wasn’t sure that it was truly you that sat in front of him. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered as he started to pace, pulling at his hair nervously. “Mr. Stark is gonna kill me.” He glanced back up you, eyes still wide. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re Spider-Man,” you countered, eyes flitting over the tight suit before focusing on the mask in his hand. “You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”
“Okay, so- so maybe it is what it looks like, but I-” He cut himself off, and you could tell that he’s struggling to explain the entire thing away. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, yes. I’m Spider-Man, but you can’t tell anyone. Please, Y/N. No one else can know about this.”
You nodded slowly, abandoning your textbook and sitting at the edge of your bed as you stared at one another awkwardly. “Don’t tell anyone. Got it. But, like… Are you- Can I ask questions?”
“Um, yeah, I- I guess.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck nervously as his checks tinted pink. “Ask away.”
“First question – why are you in my room?” It seemed like the obvious question to ask. If Peter – Spider-Man – hadn’t crawled through your window in the first place, you wouldn’t even need to ask him any questions at all.
You had to bite back a laugh as you watched his eyes widen momentarily as he finally took in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the few photos you had of you and your friends hanging on the walls and the stack of books that sat on your desk just waiting to be read. “Your room? I, uh- To be fair, when I crawled through the window, I thought it was my room.” You opened your mouth to interject, but he continued, “I live here. Well, not here, here, but in this building. With my aunt May. We live here. In this building. I must’ve swung to the wrong fire escape.”
“Swung?” you asked, his explanation providing more questions than answers. “Like with your webs?” He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “And you swing around the city and fight bad guys?” Another nod. “You’re Spider-Man.”
He paused, as if thinking his answer through. “Yeah.”
“This is wild,” you commented more to yourself, leaning in closer and poking at the material of his suit. He stayed completely still as you prodded the suit some more, feeling the thick fabric beneath the pads of your fingertips. You let out a short laugh and looked up at him, repeating, “You’re Spider-Man.” You laughed freely then, and the little smile he gave you was enough to make your heart pound wildly in your chest. “Don’t worry,” you assured him once the laughter died down, “your secret’s safe with me, Parker.”
You could almost feel the tension and nervous energy leave his body, and you watched as his shoulders slumped forward, finally relaxed since he first realized that you saw him as Spider-Man. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I’m asking a lot, but I- It’s really important.”
You smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Parker. My lips are sealed.” You mimed zipping your lips and locking them before throwing away the key, and it made a small burst of laughter escape his lips. “Besides, you have more things to worry about than me telling the world that you double as a superhero after school hours. Like our Spanish test in first period tomorrow.”
“Spanish test t- Shit!” You watched his eyes widen again at the reminder of the test that you both had to take in eight hours, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly scrambled towards the window. Halfway through your window, he glanced back at you with a soft smile curling his lips. “I, uh- Thanks again, Y/N.”
“You’re welcome, Spider-Man.” You winked, and he was gone, crawling up the wall to the fire escape above yours. You crouched down at your window and listened for a moment longer as the sounds of Peter hauling his body over the rails of the fire escape and the opening of a different window – presumably his – echoed through the alley between your apartment building and the building next to it. Knowing that he’d be able to hear you, you called out, “Goodnight, Peter,” and shut your window.
After that night, your typical Tuesday was anything but normal.
Your mom started to regularly work night shifts on Tuesdays, and while there were no more mishaps with incorrect takeout orders, no more chocolate milk spilt on shirts, and no more jammed lockers, there was Spider-Man.
Peter was quick to realize that every Tuesday night, you would leave your window slightly open just for him regardless of how cold the autumn air outside was. Some nights, he crawled through your window as early as eight. Other nights, you didn’t see him until nearly midnight. Some nights, you would spend hours going over chemistry and calculus homework with him – because, seriously, Peter Parker may just be the smartest sixteen-year-old you’ve ever met – and discussing his latest superhero escapades. Other nights, you simply sat together on your bed, sharing candy as you talked about school, friends, family, and everything else that happened to come up in the course of your conversation.
The easy friendship you had formed with Peter had confused a few people, to say the least.
His best friend, Ned, had openly stared at you with wide eyes the first day you sat beside Peter in the cafeteria, and your friends looked at you with confused expressions before quickly following suit and taking a seat at the table. MJ – who you thankfully already had somewhat of a tentative friendship with thanks to a history project during freshman year – simply lifted her gaze to you, shrugged her shoulders in greeting, and returned to the book she was reading. Flash was quick to make a mean comment about Peter once he noticed you and your friends sitting at the table, but after you made a passing threat of sharing his Spider-Man fanfiction with the school, he scurried back to his own table with his tail between his legs.
Peter, though. Peter looked at you with such a tender expression that made your heart flutter uncontrollably in your chest and your cheeks flood with warmth as you settled into your seat beside him. You playfully knocked your shoulder against his and made a quip about Spanish class that made him laugh before falling into easy conversation with the others, though your mind never drifted far from the way that your thigh was pressed against Peter’s or the way that his pinky finger would occasionally brush over yours.
That first day you sat with Peter in the cafeteria had a domino effect. Over the course of a few weeks, you spent an increasing amount of time with Peter, both during school and outside of school hours. You walked home from school with Peter every day (or at least every day that he didn’t disappear for Spider-Man duties); you joined him, Ned, and MJ for movie nights on Fridays; and you even had dinner with Peter and May on the rare nights that you spent hours studying in Peter’s bedroom rather than alone in yours.
But the domino effect didn’t stop at just changing how you typically spent your days.
Without any warning, you found yourself falling painfully in love with the nerdy boy that lived in the apartment above yours and that masqueraded as a crime fighting superhero in the evening and on weekends (though you knew that if he were really needed during school hours, he would find an excuse to disappear from class for as long as Spider-Man was needed).
You thought about telling Peter, you really did. Every time he crawled through your window, a wide smile on his face and his cheeks tinted pink from the exertion of swinging through the city, you thought about telling him how he made your heart race in the best way. Every time his fingers brushed against your arm as you walked home or across your fingers as you sat in the cafeteria, your thought about telling him how he made your skin tingle pleasantly with just the slightest touch. Every time he appeared at your place with sandwiches from Delmar’s and spent hours on your couch watching old sitcoms, you thought about telling him how moments like that were what made you happiest.
You thought about telling Peter, but you never found the courage to speak up.
Your friendship with Peter was too valuable to risk losing it because of your feelings, and you didn’t miss the way that he would look at MJ when she wasn’t paying attention, the way that he would go out of his way to speak to her in the halls between classes, the way that he seemed so in tuned to everything that she was doing and saying. Your feelings would fade eventually, so you kept them to yourself and told yourself you were content with just friendship.
It was only fitting that it was a Tuesday night when everything changed nearly three months after Peter mistakenly crawled through your window.
Despite the December chill and the light dusting of snow on the fire escape outside your window, you left the window cracked open just enough for Peter to easily pull it open and crawl inside. It may have made your room almost unbearably cold, but it was nothing that fuzzy socks, a comfy sweatshirt, and a heated blanket couldn’t fix.
It was later than usual when Peter finally arrived, stumbling through your window when he finally managed to open and it, and it didn’t escape your notice that his fingers had left bloody streaks on the glass pane of the window.
“Peter!” You heart leapt to your throat as you scrambled from your bed to support him, and he slumped forward, struggling to stay on his feet. “Pete, c’mon. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Stabbed,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “He had a knife.”
You were not prepared for this. Absolutely not. No one had ever told you that being friends with a superhero would mean them stumbling into your apartment at two in the morning with a fucking stab wound. “Okay. Uh…” You led him to your bed, helping him lay down before scanning your eyes over his body. And just as he said, there was a large slash across his abdomen, his red suit staining an even darker red as he bled from the wound. “Shit, I- Pete what do I do? Tell me how to help you.” You tugged at his suit with shaking hands, trying – and failing – to pull the material away from his body. “How do I take this fucking thing off?”
You stepped back as his hand pressed against the spider symbol on his chest, and the suit instantly enlarged, allowing you to pull it away from his body and to bunch the material around his hips. (If it hadn’t been entirely inappropriate given the circumstances, you most certainly would have taken your time appreciating the sculpted muscles on Peter’s chest and abdomen).
You inspected the damage, your eyes burning with unshed tears and the fear you felt increasing exponentially the longer you looked at the gash that marred his skin. It wasn’t too deep, but it was deep enough to nearly send you into a panic. “We should call 911, Pete,” you told him once you found your voice, though it was still thick with fear. “I- I don’t think I can help you. I don’t know how to-”
“Hey,” he whispered, his warm hand curling around yours and squeezing reassuringly. “I know you can. I watched you stitch that pig up in biology at the end of the dissection a few weeks ago.”
“I just didn’t want to leave it cut open like that,” you defended, though you knew there was really no need to. “But a dead pig is much different than a living human, Peter. I don’t…” You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand even tighter. “I’m scared, Pete.”
“It’s okay, Y/N. I promise.” He let out a hiss of pain, his jaw clenched tightly. “Your mom has a first aid kit, right?” You nodded. “Get it.”
You did as you were told, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet in your mom’s bathroom before returning to Peter. You worked slowly after you had cleaned his wound as well as you could and threaded the needle. Your hands shook as you started stitching the wound back together, careful to not make it any worse than it already was. Peter hissed in pain each time you poked the needle through his skin, but he whispered reassurances to encourage you. Soon, his abdomen had been stitched together, and while it certainly wasn’t pretty and would definitely scar, it looked stable.
“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do wi-” he began, but you cut him off.
“Don’t,” you hissed. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified I am right now?” The tears you’d been holding back while you stitched him up finally spilled from your eyes. “Do you have any idea how much it fucking hurt to see you like this?”
He sat up on the bed, bracing himself on his elbows. You didn’t miss the way he winced in pain from the movement. “Y/N, I-”
“I’m not done talking, Peter,” you snapped, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “I get that you’re Spider-Man, that you feel responsible to protect the city and do whatever it takes to stop the bad guys, but- Fuck, Pete! You could die!”
“But I won’t!”
“You don’t know that!” you shouted, your lip trembling as you sat next to him on the bed. You lowered your voice to a whisper and repeated, “You don’t know that, Pete. You just don’t. Tonight, you got lucky. But what if next time, instead of a knife, they have a gun, and you get shot.”
He glanced up at you sheepishly, his chocolate eyes pleading with you to stop crying. “I heal fast,” he tried to reason, but it wasn’t enough to appease you. You looked away, but a gentle hand on your cheek brought your attention back to him. “Besides, I’m pretty motivated to not die. I can’t take you on a date if I’m dead.”
You opened your mouth to argue with him before promptly snapping it shut. Did he really just say that? Was it the pain and the exhaustion talking, or did he really mean it? “Date? Did you just- What did you say?” It was definitely the pain and exhaustion talking, right? It had to be.
He leaned forward and rested his head on your shoulder, and you froze, concentrating on the way his warm breath ghosted over the skin of your neck. “A date, Y/N. Uh, if you- I mean, only if you’d want-” You giggled as he stumbled over his words, tilted your head slightly to rest atop his. The action must have soothed his nerves, because he took your hand in his and confidently said, “I wanna take you on a date, Y/N.”
Your lips curled up into a wide smile, unable to contain how absolutely giddy you felt in that moment. “I’d like that, Pete,” you told him. “But we really need to have a conversation about superhero safety.”
He laughed, but it was cut off by a groan of pain. “We can probably do that.”
And unsurprisingly, your first date was on a Tuesday.
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Dusk Till Dawn - Part 8
Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: You play double agent while the Avengers search for you.
Warnings: more swearing than usual, angst, violence
A/N: @annies-marvel-imagines will no longer be posting more parts, but she will still receive credit.
You paced around Ezekiel's secret hideout and realized several things. The first thing is that there was no way that these two individuals managed to get their hands on such high-level tech by themselves. The second was that Ezekiel obviously lied about being your dad. The third was that Ezekiel most definitely had enough money to get a less crappy apartment. The fourth and most crucial thing you realized was that you'd have to play along with their plan longer than you wanted to.
Judging by the number of meals you've gotten, you'd guess you've been there for three days. It was hard to pretend that you wanted to wipe out the Avengers, but you had to remind yourself that this was just another mission. Except, you didn't have your suit or any means of contacting your team. Plus, the Avengers had no idea where you were, what you were doing, or what you were trying to do. You were on your own.
"Don't just stand there, you spoiled brat. Help us out," Eloise yelled at you.
Another thing that made it hard to act like you were on their side was the constant feeling of wanting to strange Eloise every time she opened her mouth. She honestly reminded you of a penny. Two-faced and not worth much.
"What the hell is this thing?" you ask as you approach the strange metal box that Eloise and Ezekiel had struggled to get out of Ezekiel's truck.
"You like it?" he asks, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Was this guy serious?
"Did your ears suddenly stop working, or are you just that bad at listening to someone else's shit for once?" You say without thinking. The strange looks from them tell you that it was the wrong thing to say, so you backtrack. "Sorry, I'm still a little nervous about all this."
"It's fine," Ezekiel mutters, coughing awkwardly before becoming grave. "As long as you do your job, you have nothing to worry about."
"What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, suddenly becoming defensive.
"This is your new suit." Eloise snarks, clearly trying to get everyone's attention back onto the metal box. She pressed a button, causing it to open.
Inside was a suit that looked similar to your dad's iron suit, but instead of red and gold, it was black and purple.
"Why does it look like that?" You ask. Why would they base the suit off of Iron Man's suit if they hate his guts?
"We figured you'd like an upgrade," Ezekiel beamed proudly. You're assuming that he was the one who built it, but you weren't ready to jump to conclusions. The guy already had trouble figuring out how to open the microwave. "Your old suit seemed..."
"weak," Eloise rolled her eyes as she finished his sentence.
"It was flexible and bulletproof," you defended. The suit you always wore worked well for years. Who do these people think they are? "I made it with my d- with Tony Stark."
"That explains a lot." She crosses her arms as she stares down at you with a judgmental glare. "Trust me. If you're going up against the Avengers, you're going to want to wear this. It'll protect you better than that flimsy piece of shit you always wore before."
"Fine," you mumbled, remembering that it is in your best interest to pretend that you agree with them.
Peter felt like he was drowning.
He'd never gone this long without knowing if you were okay or not, and it was killing him. Without you, his Peter-Tingle, or Spidey-Senses as you called it, felt like a timer he couldn't shut off. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that he was worried out of his mind or if it meant that you were in danger. Maybe both?
What was worse was that he had to pretend everything was okay. Happy was in the hospital, you were missing, and the Avengers were moving heaven and Earth to find you, but he couldn't join them. May and the Avengers insisted that he let the "adults" handle this. Did it ever occur to them that you matter to him just as much, if not more?
"Hey, Pete?" Ned and the rest of your friends approached him hesitantly. They all worried about you, but they knew that it was harder on him. "Is there any update on Y/N?"
"Not yet." Peter would have known if there was even a slight update. "Have any of you heard anything?"
"Gwen feels guilty about what happened at homecoming," Harley states ."She says that if she hadn't spilled her drink on Y/N, she never would have left the gym."
They all look to where Gwen was standing with her friends. She didn't look happy. In fact, she looked like she hadn't slept since word got out that you were missing.
"She should feel guilty." Peter huffs, "If she got over her damn pettiness long enough to realize that I love Y/N, I never would have lost her."
"Still... she said she'd back off," Harry says, feeling uncomfortable with the current subject. There is no excuse for what Gwen did, but she did look like she had learned her lesson.
"We want to help," Betty admitted, causing a bit of hope to fill Peter's mind. So far, all he's heard was "let the adults handle this". Knowing that his friends want to help find you was like a breath of fresh air.
"Yeah. It doesn't feel right to sit back and do nothing when Y/N is who knows where," Harry sighs, patting Peter on the back.
"Thanks, guys," Peter replies, smiling for the first time since you've disappeared. "That means-"
Before he could finish, he turned around, and not a second later, an explosion went off right across from the school.
"What the f-"
"I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that you never told us that Y/N was adopted," Clint says as he paces back and forth in the compound. He didn't have the slightest idea that anything was going on until he received a call telling him that you were missing and that help was needed tracking you down.
"He had his reasons; now are you going to focus more on that or finding Y/N?" Pepper replied, defending Tony. Although she agrees that Tony should have told you, she knows that he had his reasons.
"Maybe she doesn't want to be found?" Clint asks, although the second it came out of his mouth, he knew it sounded stupid.
"No," Steve says, his arms crossed in concentration. "I've known Y/N for a long time, and she's a good kid. She's going through stuff right now, but she'd never run away or leave Happy alone while he's in the hospital. Something else is going on, and I'd bet it had to do with those two."
The TV displayed everything they knew so far. The two likely suspects were none other than Eloise Day and Ezekiel Stane. Security footage showed you getting into Eloise's car, which was later found outside a shambly apartment building. After further inspection, your phone was found inside of the apartment belonging to Ezekiel Stane.
"Agreed". Tony stared at the screen, trying to figure out if there is anything he's missing. He knows that Ezekiel is the son of his old business partner. Tony knows that Eloise was a new student who gained your trust. What he didn't realize was their connection and what their goal is.
"If-When we find her, you need to tell her the truth," Steve tells him.
"Yeah, we'll go out for cheeseburgers and laugh about it. Am I right?" Tony snaps. It was clear that he knew who your real father is and that you might already know him too. "I- I don't want her to hate me when I tell her."
"Trust me. Y/N will understand if your heart was in the right place," Steve encourages, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. For a second, Tony's shoulders slump before his resold seems to harden.
"Her real dad is-"
"I think you'll be able to tell her yourself," Nat speaks urgently. "Y/N's been spotted in Queens."
"Let's suit up."
You couldn't help but feel as though your plan was about to fail. Eloise and Ezekiel have recently kept a closer eye on you than usual, which isn't good. You have a feeling that they're on to you, which means that you might have to improvise.
"Play along," Ezekiel mutters in your ear before roughly grabbing your arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise pointing some blaster at you that looks too much like the one that Hydra dude shot you with.
Before you can ask what he was doing, a familiar figure swung in front of you.
"Let her go," Peter demands. Although you cannot see his face, you can tell he's angry. You felt bad for putting him through this, but in the long run, you'll have to put him through it a little longer.
"Fat chance, you spider freak!" Eloise roars, suddenly pointing the blaster at Peter.
"Wait-" You yell, but your voice is drowned out by Ezekiel's yells as Eloise pulls the trigger.
It was like everything was happening in slow motion. You wanted to scream for Peter, but the shot never made it to its target. Instead, it met with a familiar red, white, and blue shield.
"Whatever happened to my signal?!" Ezekiel yelled at Eloise, who rolled her eyes for the one-hundred-millionth time that day.
"I'm not letting you crap on my chance again, old man!" She barks at him as she continues firing the blaster. By now, all of the Avengers seem to have shown up, and her target was everyone.
"Don't you d-" He yells, but she ignores him.
Cursing, he tries to pull you away from the fight as he tries to think of a new plan. You already knew what needed to happen, but you weren't sure if you were ready to see everyone's faces when you are forced to betray them.
"So is this a thing now? Kidnapping my daughter for revenge or something?" your dad asks as he lands in front of you and Ezekiel, ready to fight.
"Who said I kidnapped her?" Ezekiel smirks. You wanted to wipe the arrogance off his face, but you couldn't. You had a job to do.
"Dammit," You curse. You press the button on your bracelet that morphed into your "new" suit. You didn't want to see the looks everyone will give you, so as you took down the people you call your family, you couldn't look them in the eye.
@eridanuswave @perspectiveparker @spidey-reids-2003 @ilovespideyyy @purplekitten30 @slytherinambitious @starryeddie @grapesauze @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @thegayseance @whiskeywinter89
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I'll try write fanfics, i'd like to read your ideas about marvel characters (mainly) or others and I write about them if i know them.
Sorry if I don't write English well, it's not my mother tongue.
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Being a girly-girl & having a crush on Peter Parker
Author Note: Just a heads up, I currently am offering to do headcanons for those who are interested. Click here for the rules to learn how to request one.
Taglist: Thekrazykeke, Jewel2876, Browngirldominion, merceret, bestofbucky, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @whisperlullaby, @wintersoldierslut, kelieah, jasminedayz, angrybirdxx, namjoonswifeyy, @chaoticpete, AWESOMEREXTYPHOON
You met Peter through your best friend and classmate, MJ.
Peter found it hard to believe that you two were best friends when you were such polar opposites. She was sarcastic and witty while you were sweet and charming. You enjoyed reading YA romance novels and dressing up in warm and pastel colors while she enjoyed analyzing films and books and reading non-fiction.
When she first introduced you when she decided to sit down with Peter and Ned at lunch one day, you were immediately smitten with Peter. With his cute science t-shirts and mousy brown hair, to the way he babbled on about all the stuff he learned in his physics class. It was almost too much for your heart to bear over how cute he was.
You’d slide in a few compliments here and there throughout the conversation just to show how interested you were.
“You’re really smart, you know that?” you complimented with a smile.
Peter’s eyes lit up hearing you say that and blushed while he struggled trying to pick up where he left off in the conversation.
Ned and MJ exchanged a look with each other, knowing exactly what was going on without having to say a word.
Over the next few weeks, you’d continue with some light flirting and teasing with Peter. He’d either be left in a blushing, stuttering mess or he’d laugh off your teasing remarks.
You were laying it on pretty thick that you were into Peter, but he either just didn’t seem to get it or just wasn’t interested and was too nice of a guy to turn you down.
So, you asked MJ for a second opinion.
“Trust me, the dork likes you back. He’s just too busy overthinking everything you’ve said up to this point.” MJ reassured.
“I don’t know why. I think I’ve been pretty clear that I’m interested in him.” You pouted.
“Look, I know Peter. He may be smart when it comes to the academics, but when it comes to love and shit like that, well, that’s an entirely different story. So, you’re just gonna have to spell it out for him.” MJ explained.
And so you did.
After school, you cornered Peter at his locker before taking his hand in your own. “I need you to come with me.” You demanded.
“O-Okay...?” Peter gulped.
He allowed himself to be tugged down the school halls by your hand until you were both outside the school, standing underneath a tree, away from the other students.
“So, I’m just gonna lay my cards on the table.” You took a deep breath before you gave your long winded confession. “I really like you, Peter. Not just as a friend, but I like like you. And I’ll understand if you just want to stay friends, but I just want you to be honest and tell me how you feel because I can’t tell whether--”
Peter immediately cut you off by gently grabbing your face in his hands and pressing his lips against your own in a short, but sweet kiss. He quickly broke away after a few seconds and stepped away from you before you had time to register what just happened.
“I-I...I like you too.” Peter confessed with a meek smile. “I just needed to get out of my own head and finally work up the nerve to make a move. I can’t help but lose my nerve whenever I’m around you. You’re sweet, kind, and just...just so awesome and beautiful, my brain can’t help but question why you’d want to be with someone like me.”
You put your hands on your hips before you grabbed Peter’s face in your hands the same way he did to you before you kissed his lips before kissing his nose. “Because you’re just as beautiful and awesome, Peter. Don’t let anyone or even that genius brains of yours tell you different.”
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Having a goth aesthetic and befriending Peter Parker
Pairing: platonic Peter Parker/black!Reader
Warnings: A bit of angst
Author Note: The gif above doesn’t belong to me. I found the gif at Giphy.com. This will be a platonic headcanon, because as much as I LOVE romance and writing it, platonic friendships are just as great and important.
Taglist: Thekrazykeke, Jewel2876, Browngirldominion, merceret, bestofbucky, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @whisperlullaby, @wintersoldierslut, kelieah, jasminedayz, angrybirdxx, namjoonswifeyy, @chaoticpete, AWESOMEREXTYPHOON, @oloreaa
Black has always been your favorite color
You incorporated black into your make-up, nail polish, accessories, and your wardrobe
Your peers at school who didn’t know you either found you intimidating because of how you dressed or found you odd for your lack of color in your wardrobe which left you feeling alienated at times.
This was especially true when you’d occasionally hear rumors spread about how you worshipped the devil in your spare time or that you were just super depressed and you were one step away from jumping off the deep end.
Enter Peter Parker, your first and real friend.
He found you sitting alone at lunch one day and decided to sit down next to you and strike up a conversation.
You were reading some manga while mindlessly stabbing your meatloaf with a plastic fork.
“Hey, (Name), mind if I sit here?” Peter asked.
You looked up from your manga to see none other than Peter Parker standing in front of you with a friendly smile.
You’re surprised that he wanted to sit with you since he usually hung out with Ned.
Plus, you and Peter didn’t have any classes together. His locker just so happened to be next to yours, so you only saw him in the hallways when you stopped by your locker.
You’d say hello to each other every once in a while and make small talk if you were at your lockers, but that was pretty much it.
You simply nod and motion with your hand to encourage him to take a seat at the table.
“So, what’re you reading?” Peter looked up from his lunch tray.
“It’s Naruto.” You said.
“I’ve never read manga before, but I heard that when you read it that you gotta read it backwards, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
You spent the rest of your lunch that day talking about your favorite manga and the current manga you were reading from the library.
When you decided to ask Peter why he randomly decided to sit with you today, he decided to come clean.
“To be honest, I overheard some of the rumors about you around school today and I thought that maybe you could use a friend. If you’re in the market for one that is, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to be friends. We can just stay locker neighbors if you’re more comfortable with that.” Peter babbled.
“Sure, we can be friends. I don’t mind.” You smiled.
“So, did you maybe... wanna hang out after school then?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
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Hair Game (Peter Parker/black!Reader) Audio Book
This is the first time I’ve ever had someone narrate one of my reader insert stories. The tumblr user, @lilspacefreckles was kind enough to read & narrate one of my Peter Parker/black!Reader fics that I wrote and I wanted to share her video. If you wanna read the story, click the link here.
She narrates for shows/anime/video games such as BNHA, Assassination Classroom, Haikyu, Mystic Messenger, Spiderman, Star Wars, Stranger Things, Avatar The Last Airbender, and Demon Slayer. Give her work a listen and let her narrations and voice take you away on an adventure! You won’t be disappointed! <3
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Pairing | Peter Parker x male!vigilante!reader
Summary | a well renowned and new burglar is catching the eye of the city, and Spider-Man wishes to stop him. But as usual, the web slinger has little to no luck within that department.
Warnings | stealing, mentions of death, mentions of being shot, cliffhanger
Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬
He was a shadow, skulking around the streets of Queens. A villain that pried for stolen goods, a burglar that was aware of his skill. Peter dreaded another run in with the mischievous silhouette, there was always an opportunity of escape for the sly male.
The city was beginning to recognise the footprints of this particular villain, they had yet to name him, but alike to Spiderman himself, his identity was truly unknown. They were both vigilantes, the only difference was that one of them sought to do things for good, and the other for a lack of reasoning.
If Peter was mistaken, he’d assume that this guy was in desperate need of money, however, that perception was indeed a mistake, There was nothing about the opponent that often he chased in spite of returning all that he stole, that screams that he was deprived of luxuries.
His skill was unmatched, and Peter was convinced that he must have endured some high strung training that aided him in getting away from all that wished to prosecute him. This ‘y/v/n’, as he called himself, was remarkable with his swift tricks, and Peter knew that it would be close to impossible to string the villain up with his webs.
By his inability to do so, did not mean that he would give up on his heroic conquest. No, he would not, in fact, his consistency to whisk away from all conviction, albeit impressive, only made the Spiderling more infused and eager to entangle him, and leave him for the cops that tailed their long and enduring chases.
And yet again, y/v/n had struck; this time it was a priceless art museum, which was nothing different than the usual of his heists. All the hero’s intents were driven forward, and suppressed, all so that he could stop this mysterious guy, for once and for all.
“Y/v/n, stop!” His high pitched voice hollered at the grey clothed thief, whose masked head whipped around to face the speaker. A frown was formed underneath his eye covering, running up his forehead like a crack in stonework. “This is getting out of hand.!”
A wild smirk seeped onto y/v/n’s face, to which he shook his benevolent head at. “That’s kinda the idea Spidey.” Was retorted back like a rugby ball in reply. Peter could only sigh at his reluctance to give up his poor career choice.
“One day, someone will shoot you for stealing from them.” It was try, those that y/n/n was illegally taking from were powerful people in Queens. And it would be no surprise if this adept, yet expertly defined burglar, had his real face revealed by being dead on some luxurious porch, or overtop garden.
“Oh no.” Y/v/n gasped, jokingly covering his mouth in faux shock. “It’s not like I’ve had the pleasure of being shot before.” His hand transferred its positioning down to his side, instinctively flinching at the obscene memory that still haunted him to this day.
“If you stop, i can help you.” And he would, he entrusted himself in helping people get better, and saving people. Essentially, both of those could be considered having the same terms, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that y/v/n did not endure a shooting incident again.
However, an amused cackle sprung from his mouth, clearly in disbelief of everything that the neighbourhood web slinger was saying. “What are you, my therapist?”
“I’m going to have to fight you if you don’t return what you stole.” Peter warned him, signing because it was not one of his desire to fight this offender. He couldn’t be much older than him, if they were not of the same age, and that was one of the few reasons as to why he wanted to aid this victim that had somewhat turned. Into a small part villain.
“Finally!” A grin contorted y/v/n’s smirk/ “I’ve been waiting for it all night.” He adjusted his hands, prepared to take whatever attempts that the less known avenger threw at him. As expected, the conjunction of webs were directed towards him first, and so, he rolled in the air, and out of the line of his fire.
Another attempt came towards him, to which he avoided easily. And as Peter tried continuously to hit him with his spider cage, y/v/n was successful in not getting caught in it. And so he moved fast, until he was directly behind the red and blue patriot.
With much ample force, y/v/n struck his back with the bottom of his feet, causing the spider to collapse against the gravel atop of the building, and roll so that he could watch the one that was well aware of all of his tricks, and made him physically crumble with little attempt.
That training was prominent now, and thus, y/v/n raised his hand, in a bidding of a goodby. “Until next time parker.” He jumped fearlessly from the building, and when Peter went to look for a body,all he saw was nothing.
He was gone, but he wasn’t just worried about that. Y/v/n knew the truth that he wore behind his mask, and if he was aware of his identity; who else was?
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A Lone Wolf II (Peter Parker/black!Reader)
Pairing: Peter Parker/black!Reader
Word Count: 860
Warnings: Morbid Humor
Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 3
Author Note: Special shout out to sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for beta-reading this chapter and being one of my biggest cheerleaders. You rock! If you wanna be tagged, shoot me an ask or message. Please let me know what you think of this series via reblog or send me a comment. <3
Taglist: Thekrazykeke, Jewel2876, Browngirldominion, merceret, bestofbucky, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @whisperlullaby, @wintersoldierslut, kelieah, jasminedayz, angrybirdxx, namjoonswifeyy, @chaoticpete, AWESOMEREXTYPHOON, @oloreaa
Peter and (Name) stood in his room wordlessly for the next minute, staring each other down. To (Name), it felt like an eternity as Peter slowly approached her. As Peter took one step forward, she jumped back before making a beeline for his window that led out to his fire escape.
“Wait, please don’t go!” Peter pleaded.
(Name) stopped in her tracks, but refused to turn around and face Peter. Her wolf-ears pulled back, her body trying to decide whether to go into fight or flight mode even though she didn’t have much energy to do either one.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Peter swore. “Just don’t go.”
(Name) remained quiet, reflecting on his words before she finally turned away from the window and faced Peter. She approached him before snatching her beanie hat back and shoving it over her wolf ears and sat on his bed. Peter cautiously approached her, pointing at his bed.
“Mind if I sit down?” Peter asked.
“It’s your bed.” she shrugged her shoulders.
Peter sighed in relief before taking a seat beside her on the bed, ignoring the way it creaked underneath their weight.
“I just want to help you, but I can only do that if you let me,” Peter said.
“Why do you want to help me anyway? What’s in it for you?” (Name) turned to Peter, her eyes narrowing into slits as she eyed him in suspicion.
“There’s nothing in it for me. It’s what I do. I’m the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” Peter explained. “Helping out the little guy is what I do, well, in your case, girl.”
“Dude, we’re like the same height. I’m anything but little.” (Name) grumbled.
“It’s a figure of speech.” Peter sighed. “The point is, there’s only so much I can do to help if you don’t tell me anything about you.”
“What is with you and asking questions about me when I don’t know the first thing about you?”
“Okay, how about this. I’ll tell you three facts about myself and then you tell me three facts about you. How does that sound?”
“That’s fair, I suppose.”
Peter smiled once he realized he started making a little progress with (Name).
“Okay, so facts about me,” Peter began. “I’m fifteen, I go to school at Midtown School of Science and Technology, and I have a best friend named Ned. Your turn.”
“Wow,” (Name) breathed out.
“What?” Peter raised an eyebrow.
“That’s just so boring. I thought you were gonna tell me what your kill count was as Spider-Man or something.”
Peter nearly choked on his own saliva at (Name)’s crude words.
“W-Why would that be the first thing I’d tell you?” Peter’s face paled at the thought of even having one. “Besides, I’ve never killed anyone before, so I don’t have a kill count. Now quit trying to change the subject. It’s your turn.”
“Fine, just give me a minute.”
(Name) took a deep breath and thought for about a minute or so what she was gonna tell Peter.
“Well?” Peter urged.
“Well, I’m also fifteen, I’m not enrolled in school, oh and my parents are dead.” (Name) listed off each fact with her fingers.
“Wow, um… those are a lot of facts to process. I’m sorry,” Peter stared at (Name) at a loss for words.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s not like you were the one who murdered them.”
What Peter thought would be a simple and somewhat fun way to get to know the girl who was temporarily staying in his house quickly turned into a morbid game that left Peter with more questions than answers.
“I’m sorry, did you say murdered?” Peter asked carefully.
“Yeah, murdered. That’s what I said. I’m not gonna play this stupid game of yours if you’re gonna ask me questions about the facts I tell you. That was never part of the game. Oh, and I’m counting the murder of my parents as one additional fact. So, that means you have to give me four new facts about yourself.”
Peter rubbed his temples as he sighed in exasperation. “Could you please be serious?”
“You’re talking to a fifteen-year-old,” (Name) deadpanned. “Being serious isn’t really my thing. Oh, that’s five facts about me. So, now you owe me five.”
So much for making progress. Peter sighed in resignation before he stood up to his feet.
“Wait, where are you going? Afraid that you can’t top my cool facts?” (Name) asked with a playful smirk.
“Honestly, I’m too afraid to ask any more questions. I’m gonna need time to process all of this.” Peter said as he walked towards the door.
“Just one more thing.”
Peter turned to look at (Name) who was donning a wolfish grin.
“Since you couldn’t come up with five facts, I win the game fair and square.” (Name) stated proudly.
“Good night, (Name).” Peter rolled his eyes before he left his room and closed the door behind him.
As frustrated as Peter felt how the conversation ended, he was glad to see (Name) was in a slightly better mood than she was earlier and was starting to warm up to him.
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A Lone Wolf I (Peter Parker/black!Reader)
Pairing: Peter Parker/black!Reader
Word Count: 1359
Chapters: Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Important Author Note: I woke up this morning and felt an urge to make a brand new Peter Parker/Reader series. I’m expecting this series to be a lot longer than the ones I’ve made thus far, but I don’t know how many chapters this will be. This story is set to take place sometime after Spider-Man Homecoming, but before Spider-Man: Far from Home, so Peter is about 15-16 years old in this story. Special thanks to sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for beta-reading the first chapter. If you wanna be tagged, shoot me an ask or message.
Taglist: Thekrazykeke, Jewel2876, Browngirldominion, merceret, bestofbucky, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @whisperlullaby, @wintersoldierslut, kelieah, jasminedayz, angrybirdxx, namjoonswifeyy, @chaoticpete, AWESOMEREXTYPHOON, @oloreaa
Running, stealing, and hiding. These were the three skills (Name) knew how to do best. These were also skills she relied on to keep herself alive as a wandering traveler. For the last ten years, that’s what she did. There were rare occasions where she’d encounter a kind Samaritan who would give her food, a ride, or money to temporarily sustain her. Kindness from strangers was hard to come by, so (Name) was surprised that she’d wind up receiving kindness from the same person who caught her stealing from a fruit vendor in Queens, New York.
“You gonna pay for those?” Peter asked, who was currently dressed as Spider-Man.
“L-Let go!” (Name) cried, pulling her wrist back.
Peter had a tight grip on her wrist, effectively keeping her from running away and forcing her to drop the apples she stole from the fruit vendor. She growled, baring her teeth before she raised her right hand and swiped at Peter’s hand, forcing him to release her.
“OW!” Peter clutched onto his bleeding hand, the suit of his eyes narrowing at her.
(Name) took advantage of that moment to make her escape and sprinted down the street, avoiding random passerby’s who stood in her way. She panted heavily, feeling the adrenaline rush reach its end from lack of food before she finally stopped in an abandoned alleyway a few blocks down the street.
Two minutes. Just two minutes then keep going. Don’t stop running. (Name) told herself, adjusting the black wool beanie on her head.
“You know, you could have made this easier if you had just paid for those apples.” A male voice spoke above her.
(Name) looked up to see Spider-Man hanging upside down from the fire escape above her head. Before she could make a run for it, he pinned her to the wall using his web-shooters to eject his web fluid.
“Fuck!” (Name) struggled to break free from the web.
When she realized there was no way out, she hung her head in defeat.
“If you’re gonna kill me now, just do it already and put me out of my misery.” (Name) mumbled.
“Whoa, whoa,” Peter jumped off the fire escape and stood in front of her, holding up his hands. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just…I just wanna talk.”
“Talk?” (Name) laughed humorlessly. “You pin me to the wall so we can talk?”
“Yeah, I just wanna know why you stole those apples.”
As if to answer his question, (Name)’s stomach rumbled, earning a small chuckle from the web-slinger.
“Well, that answers my question.” Peter smiled underneath his mask. “Tell you what? I’ll treat you to some food if you promise not to steal it.”
Lured by the thought of a good meal, (Name) weakly nodded her head. “Fine, just get me the hell out of these disgusting webs.”
The sun had finally set over the busy city of Queens and was replaced by a waxing moon. Peter and (Name) sat on a fire escape together as they enjoyed sandwiches from Delmar’s Deli-Mart. Well, Peter was enjoying it. (Name) was practically inhaling her sandwich, ignoring the fact she had mayonnaise and lettuce stuck to her cheek.
“Wow, uh…I’ve never seen a girl eat with such… vigor,” Peter said, the suit of his eyes staring with amazement.
“Yeah, well, not eating for three days straight will do that to anybody.” (Name) grumbled before taking another bite.
“Three days?!” The suit of Peter’s eyes doubled in size at the number.
(Name) nodded silently, swallowing a mouthful of sandwich.
Peter raked his brain as he tried to formulate a plan on how he could help her further. She may have been a thief, but she clearly needed food and possibly other things depending on how she answered his next questions.
“Do you have any place to go to get something to eat?” Peter asked.
“No.” she replied curtly.
“Okay, where are you staying tonight exactly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wow, you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“I’ve been traveling on my own for the last ten years. I’ll figure it out.”
(Name) polished off the rest of her sandwich before wiping off her mouth using the back of her hand and wiped any remaining crumbs onto her jeans. Peter quickly finished his food and pulled his mask back down over his mouth when he realized she was about to leave. The idea of leaving her alone when she had no place to lay her head at night or know where or when her next meal would be didn’t sit right with him, especially since she appeared to be about his age.
“So you’re a traveler.” Where are you from exactly?” Peter questioned.
“Not here.” (Name) replied in a clipped tone. “Look, I appreciate you buying me that sandwich, and…I’m sorry about what I did to your hand.”
Peter looked down at his freshly bandaged hand where (Name) had cut him.
“It’s okay. I heal pretty quick, so it’s no big deal.” Peter reassured with a shrug.
“Anyway, I need to get out of here and find a place to stay for the night.” (Name) began to climb down the fire escape.
“Wait! What if you stay with me?” Peter blurted before he could stop himself.
“What?” (Name) stared up at Peter incredulous at the sudden offer.
“Yeah, you could stay with my Aunt May and me. Just temporarily until we can figure something out.”
“A free sandwich and a place to lay my head at night? It must be my birthday today.”
Peter rolled his eyes before he jumped off the fire escape and landed on his feet as (Name) continued climbing down the fire escape.
“So, you got a name?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, but I think it’s weird to ask for someone’s name before giving your own.” (Name) stated matter-of-factly.
“True, that is weird,” Peter rubbed the back of his head before he sighed and decided to give up his name. “My name’s Peter. Peter Parker.”
“Peter…” May said in a stern voice, folding her arms across her chest.
“I know I missed curfew. And I’m really sorry about that!” Peter said apologetically. “But I met (Name) a few hours ago and she told me she didn’t have any place to go or even know where her next meal was gonna be. I couldn’t just leave her out on the streets.”
May and Peter briefly turned their gaze towards the bathroom door where (Name) was taking a shower before they spoke again.
“You said you caught her stealing fruit and she has no form of I.D., so we have no way of knowing who she is or where she’s from unless she tells us.” May pointed out. “But you’re right. We can’t just leave a young girl out there to fend for herself if there’s something we can do to help her. There are some real sickos out there after all. I’ll make some calls so I can figure out what to do.”
“Thank you, May.” Peter exhaled in relief. “She can stay in my room. I’ll take the couch.”
May smiled at Peter before ruffling his hair in an affectionate manner. “Such a gracious host.”
After (Name) finished showering, she was given a set of Peter’s old pajamas to sleep in for the night: A white t-shirt that said ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ paired with black pajama pants. After she finished changing and removed the towel from her hair, she suddenly realized she was missing an essential part of her wardrobe for her head.
“I forgot my hat.” (Name) whispered in alarm, sitting upright on Peter’s bed.
Ignoring her racing heartbeat, (Name) quickly climbed out of Peter’s bed and made a beeline for the door to get her hat from the bathroom. By the time she got to the door, it suddenly opened as Peter stepped inside, holding the hat she was looking for in his hands.
“Hey, you forgot your—” Peter started but stopped mid-sentence when he saw (Name) had a pair of furry wolf-like ears above her human ears, pointed straight up towards the ceiling.
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