#Peter Parker mutual pining
Text
A Film By Peter Parker
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out
warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia
Masterlist
Of course he went for Liz.
Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.
But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.
“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.
“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.
“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.
“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.
“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.
“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.
“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.
“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.
“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”
“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”
“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.
“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”
“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.
“The one with the flies-“
“We know.” Peter cut him off.
“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.
“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.
“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.
“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.
“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”
Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.
“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“
“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.
“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.
“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”
You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.
“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.
“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.
“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.
“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”
“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.
“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”
“Then about that time on the bus?”
“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”
“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.
“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”
“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.
“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.
“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.
“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.
“But what about that time-“
“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.
“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”
“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”
“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”
“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.
“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.
“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.
“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.
“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.
Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.
“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.
“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.
“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”
“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.
“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”
“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.
“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”
“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.
“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.
“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.
“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.
“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”
“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.
“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.
“Yeah. What do you want to do?”
Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.
“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.
“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.
“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.
“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”
“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.
“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.
“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.
“Duh. Lily.”
“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.
“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.
“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.
“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.
After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.
“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.
“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.
“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.
Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.
“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.
“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.
“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.
“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.
“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.
“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.
“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”
“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.
“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.
“I mean-“
“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.
“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.
“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.
“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”
“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.
“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.
“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.
“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”
“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”
“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”
“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.
“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”
“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.
“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”
“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.
You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.
“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.
“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.
“So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.
“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.
“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.
“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”
“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.
“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”
It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.
“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.
“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”
“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.
“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.
Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.
Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.
“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.
“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”
“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.
“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.
“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.
“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.
Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.
“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.
“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.
“Yes you are.”
“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”
“Knew it.” You snorted.
“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”
“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”
“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.
“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.
“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.
“Ow. My ribs.”
“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”
“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.
“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.
“Is it bad?”
“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.
“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”
“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”
“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”
“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.
“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.
“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“
“Little?” He interrupted.
“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”
“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.
“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.
“Never heard of it.”
“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.
“Huh?”
“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.
“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.
“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”
“Really? What’s it about?”
“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.
“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.
“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”
“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.
“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”
“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.
“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.
“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.
“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.
“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“
“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.
“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.
“May.” He said warningly.
“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.
“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.
“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.
“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”
“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.
“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.
“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.
“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.
You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.
Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.
“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.
“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.
“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.
“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”
“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”
“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.
“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.
“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.
“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.
“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.
“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”
He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.
“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.
“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.
“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.
“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.
“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.
“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”
“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”
“That’s awesome.” You lied.
“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”
“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.
“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.
Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.
“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.
“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”
“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”
“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”
“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”
“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.
“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”
“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”
“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”
“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.
“What?” Peter wondered.
“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”
“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.
“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”
“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.
“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”
“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.
“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”
“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”
“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.
“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”
“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.
“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”
“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.
“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.
“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.
“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.
“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.
“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.
“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.
“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”
“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”
“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”
“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”
You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.
“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.
“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”
“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.
“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.
“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”
“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.
“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.
“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”
“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.
“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.
“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.
“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.
“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.
“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.
“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”
“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.
“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.
“You wouldn’t? Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.
“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.
“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.
“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”
“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.
“You’re not?”
“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.
“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.
“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.
“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.
“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”
Tag List 🏷️
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@tom-hollands-wifey
@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings
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@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr
@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland
@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave
@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant
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@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie
@maybemona
@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom
@pandaxnienke
@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours
@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85
@olixerwxxd @leilanixx
@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940
@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing
@mathletemadison
@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr
@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu
@ciarahollands
@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker imagine#peter parker fluff#Peter Parker mutual pining#peter parker x best friend!reader#spiderman homecoming#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fluff#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x y/n#peter parker x y/n
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IDK IF YOUR PROMPT LIST IS FOR REQS BUT I JUST HAD A BRILLIANT IDEA peter parker x stark! OR avenger!reader and they both have obvious crushes on eachother but don’t know how to approach it so the ALL of the avengers just decide to push them together by driving peter insane with jealousy, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM is just like “if nothing’s going on between you two, you won’t mind if I ask them out right?” OR just them hogging all of r’s time and being close to them and kissing r’s hands or lifting r into the air and just absolutely smothering her, but ITS EVERY SINGLE AVENGER IN THEIR OWN WAY (it doesn’t have to be immensely flirty but for some characters), and peter does not know why the fuck everyone is throwing themselves at r all but he of a sudden AND HE DOES NOT LIKE IT ONE BIT and reader is plain confused but enjoying the way everyone’s being so nice to them lately and it all leads to a “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU1!1!” with a flushed peter parker and him just heaving and catching his breathe after he says it
i adore this!! i had hoped to keep this under 3k but of course i ended up writing a full fic and jesus christ i need to learn how to compress anyways here u go!!! thank u for this request <3
(un)requited infatuation
pairing: peter parker x avenger! reader
summary: peter parker is in love with you and he won't do anything about it. but if there's nothing going on between the two of you, the rest of the avengers are free to make their moves, right?
warnings: idiots to lovers, jealous! peter, swearing, really really brief insinuation to sex, a lot of horrible flirting, partial nudity (not sexual), a mini-argument between sam and peter and it's like 5% angst, and tall girl 2.
w/c: 6.4k
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“you don’t think i want to?” peter groaned, rubbing his forehead with frustration.
“trust me, all of us know you want to,” bucky deadpanned. the 40s man in him was dying to slap some sense into the kid, but the post-soldier bucky knew it would be hypocritical, seeing as his love life had been smaller than a pym particle ever since he left wakanda.
“all of us know you want her,” sam sighed, slinging a heavy arm over peter’s shoulder, jostling him as if it would knock some sense into the love-stricken spiderboy. “and trust me, most of us do not want to know how much you want her.”
peter blushed. “i- i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
with his free hand, sam maneuvered peter into a tight hold and shook him vigorously. maybe it wasn’t the most elegant strategy, but they were avengers, after all. being all fighty and confrontational was their thing.
“listen up man, i’m actually going to kill y-”
“hey bucky, sam… peter?” you had that ever-present skip in your step as you passed by the trio, your signature bright smile melting peter just a little bit more. your chirpy expression only faltered when you saw peter, looking like a deboned fish, in sam’s arms.
“is peter, like, good?” you squinted, eyes flickering between the three men as you tried to figure out who had liquified the boy.
“yep! all good here!” peter squeaked weakly from sam’s arms, trying to stand straight and regain his dignity. you smiled awkwardly.
“great! uh, i’m glad you’re good. anyways… bye,” you grimaced, feeling a little disheartened at the way the three avengers had stiffened at your appearance. you were new to the team, but you’d made such an effort to get to know everybody and that made it hurt even more when you saw that bucky, sam, and peter still didn’t like you.
“i think that’s enough of our ministrations for today.” bucky pried peter from sam’s arms and patted peter on the head reassuringly, if not a little patronizingly. “you’ll get the girl one day. even if that day is far, far into the future.”
as bucky and sam walked off, peter buried his face in his hands. fuck you! he’d been infatuated with you since you first arrived, and watching how quickly you’d bonded with the rest of the team, seeing you in action, and being on the receiving end of your kindness had only intensified his feelings. unfortunately, he only seemed to get worse and worse at interacting with you the more and more he fell. it wasn’t his fault that you were so pretty, and clever, and brave, and thoughtful, and-
from afar, bucky and sam watched as peter drowned in his incompetency. the two of them had been unsuccessfully playing matchmaker for peter since they’d realized his feelings for you—which didn’t take long; the boy wasn’t exactly subtle or good at keeping secrets—and they were fuming.
“i think it’s time to pull out the big guns,” bucky declared, locking eyes with sam, who steeled his jaw in determination and nodded forcefully.
“seconded, brother. tomorrow. at sunrise. operation idiot is officially in play.”
--
“hey doll,” bucky smiled at you charmingly as you rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of any sleep crust and scratched your arm. you hummed at him in half hearted greeting, not conscious enough to recognize (much less reciprocate) his flirting.
you yawned, opening a cabinet to search for the new mug you may or may not have purchased just to piss tony off. of course. he’d placed it on the highest shelf, at the very back, thinking you wouldn’t bother digging around to find it. well, he was fucking wrong.
(the mug. at least, it's my depiction of the mug. u can imagine ur own of course)
you hoised one foot over the countertop to try and find some footing as you jumped up, grounding yourself on your knees and steadying yourself on the marble. bucky chuckled, watching you struggle. he came up from behind you, tugging down at your oversized sleep shirt and making you jump in surprise. you whipped your head around only to find yourself face-to-face with his chest.
“bucky, what the fuck are you doing?” you mumbled, making no effort to push him away. you were too uncaffinated to deal with his antics.
“just being a gentleman.” you seated yourself fully, legs dangling over the counter as you leaned into the warmth of bucky’s chest. even this early in the morning, he smelled like his woodsy cologne and you were tempted to bury your head in his henley and continue sleeping. it was pointless to entertain that daydream. steve scheduled a mandatory training session for 6:15, not thinking much of the time, because he, unlike you, was a morning person.
you could hear the slow trickle of other grumpy avengers shuffle their way into the kitchen. your line of sight was squarely blocked by bucky, and you figured since you weren’t able to see anything anyways, it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes for just a second, right?
“by the way, your shirt was riding up. i didn’t think you wanted anyone else to see that,” he chided, searching through the top-shelf mugs for the one you were looking for. you could hear faint clicking before your forehead slammed into bucky’s chest and you dozed off.
“are you- did you fall asleep?” bucky cupped your chin softly, admiring your ability to sleep so easily. okay, fine. maybe he was a little jealous.
he set your stupid mug on the counter beside you and wrapped your arm around his neck so he could carry you off your precarious position. you were unaware of your surroundings, still contentedly asleep as bucky gingerly placed you on a couch.
“she’s out?” rhodey raised his eyebrows, sipping his coffee to hide his amused grin.
“yeah. pretty girl’s out.” bucky moved to stroke your hair, sneaking a glance at peter from his peripheral. his grip on the handle of his mug was so strong that bucky could see the veins peter’s forearms bulging. he stifled a laugh. he considered kissing your forehead, but he knew it was too early. the fun had just begun.
as more avengers congregated, the hushed morning whispers had turned into fully voiced complaints and the clattering of utensils as everyone scrambled to fuel themselves before training. you blinked blearily, waking up to the sight of wanda’s face smiling prettily above you. her red hair draped around your face.
“wan?” you groaned, pushing her out of the way so you could sit up and stretch. you slapped yourself a couple times to wake yourself up.
“you’re cute when you sleep,” wanda giggled, kissing your cheek. “you and me and nat should have a sleepover sometime.”
natasha waved you over from a stool at the island. “good morning, sleeping beauty.” she kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your back, looking right over you to make direct eye contact with peter, who quickly looked away. his jaw was clenched.
“here, have some of my smoothie,” wanda cooed, cupping your cheek with a delicate hand. you mumbled you appreciation as she held her glass out for you; you sipped from her straw under wanda’s watchful gaze. her face was just inches from yours.
“you know, we technically just kissed,” she joked, poking your cheek. you laughed, her teasing giving you a burst of energy.
“we don’t need any technicalities. you and me. sleepover. i’ll kiss you stupid,” you rebutted, snatching the glass from wanda altogether, slurping away.
the witch bit her lip as she and nat exchanged smug looks. though peter was pretending not to look, his thoughts were so loud that wanda didn’t need to put any effort in to read his mind. peter was furiously. wordlessly, he slammed his green juice on the table and stormed off to the gym.
“what’s wrong with him today?” you were too distracted by your drink to really care.
“i have absolutely no clue,” natasha shrugged.
--
you were half an hour in and you wanted to die and/or curse out steve. he looked perfectly fine even after lapping you twice already. he wasn’t even sweating.
you’d run four miles and a stitch had already begun to creep its way into your side. you clutched your waist, slowing to a jog as natasha made her way over.
“if you’re done running, why don’t we have some fun?” she watched as peter’s punching bag took a harder hit, spinning from the force of his punch when he heard natasha’s suggestive comment. you didn’t pick up on it.
“wanna spar?” you challenged, raising to your toes and getting in her face, moving side to side as if you were swaggering.
“you’re on, sweetheart.”
the two of you were frequent sparring partners. you’d been working together for so long that your matches were more like dances, and you’d gotten so familiar with each others’ patterns that it had forced the two of you to develop new moves and strategies. mutually beneficial.
you moved to wrap your hands, but steve beat you to it.
“allow me,” he motioned for you to sit down as he took your hand in his larger one. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, with the only noise being quiet conversations between breaks and the sound of pants and grunts from the other avengers mid-workout.
“you look beautiful today,” steve smiled, looking up from your hands to admire your face.
“i look like i’ve just run four miles and am about to pass out,” you countered, rolling your eyes. “and that’s because i have.”
steve laughed, even though what you said really wasn’t that funny. you furrowed your brows at him, confused. steve’s sense of humor was mostly dad jokes and outdated references. whatever; it wasn’t like you were about to complain about the supersoldier learning to loosen up.
when he’d finished with his wrapping, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back. you blushed, having not expected such affection from the man who’d torturously forced you awake on a wednesday morning.
“now you be careful in there,” he lectured, wrapping his hand around your head to stroke your hair. you were in the direct line of sight of his biceps, and you couldn’t help but blush. “go easy on natasha. we both know you’re quite talented.”
you felt your face heat up even more and you prayed that your reaction wasn’t visible. “t-thanks, steve. that means a lot coming from captain america.”
peter had stopped punching to watch the interaction between you and steve. steve wasn’t known to be particularly adoring or play favorites among trainees, much less with his fellow avengers, so peter couldn’t help but feel a bubble of resentment swell in his gut. it wasn’t directed towards you, but to steve. peter was fully aware of your talent and ability in the field. heck, you’d gotten him out of tough situations more times than he could count. so what if he was bitter by the fact that steve was able to vocalize those praises to you while he could barely hold a conversation past small talk with you?
it wasn’t fair. you flourished under steve’s reverent stare and seemed to grow taller with each compliment he bestowed upon you. if steve had been interested in you before, why hadn’t he said something earlier? peter had recognized how incredible you were the moment he met you. it wasn’t fair that steve had taken months to reach the same conclusion yet still got the privilege of flirting with you when peter wasn’t even sure if you considered him to be a friend.
he couldn’t control himself as he watched steve held open the ropes and you ducked between them smoothly. he couldn’t help his trailing gaze as your thighs swiftly moved and as your back ducked between the ropes and he couldn’t help imagining what it’d be like if instead of the ring, your thighs were wrapped around his neck and wriggling as he-
nope. he cracked his knuckles, tearing his eyes away. he cursed his earlier self. he should’ve worn darker colored shorts. sam, who was being spotted by bucky as he lifted weights, set the bar down and kicked bucky in the shin. sam pointed to peter, who’d thrown himself into a concentrated haze of pull ups. his spider bite had made pull ups especially easy for peter, and today, he was moving twice as fast as usual.
“oh, he’s jealous alright,” bucky whispered from the corner of his mouth. he raised his eyebrows at sam.
“don’t every worry about it,” sam maintained. “i’ve got the perfect ending planned.”
--
the best part of finishing training was the promised movie night that you and rhodey had negotiated in. you needed a break sometimes, you’d argued, and movie nights were good for team bonding as well as an effective and entertaining way to relax after a gruelling day.
you lost yourself in a steamy shower haze as you brainstormed all the movies you were planning on fighting for that evening. you had originally been leaning towards a horror movie, just to spite steve, who was a strictly romcom fan, but after he’d doted on you in the gym and left you all flustered, you felt like you couldn’t do that to him.
humming a quiet tune to yourself, you went through your normal skincare routine and dried your hair, taking care to keep it protected after it’d been in such a tight updo the whole day. you wrapped yourself in a towel, preparing to change into something more comfortable, before you realized you’d left your favorite set of pajamas in wanda’s room after your last sleepover. no worries, her room was only a few doors down from yours.
stepping into some slippers and into your undergarments, you shuffled your way over to wanda with the towel still tightly wrapped around your body. you weren’t particulary uncomfortable with wandering the halls like this; injuries were an inevitable part of the field and most of the avengers had seen each other in some state of undress when tending to each others’ wounds. it wasn’t inherently sexual.
“wanda?” you called softly, shifting awkwardly so you could knock on the door while still covering yourself. you knocked again, raising your voice.
“m’lady?” came a booming voice from behind you.
“aaah!” you shrieked.
“aaah!” thor screamed.
“aaah!” wanda gasped.
you’d dropped your towel, frightened by thor’s booming voice from behind you. you scrambled to pick it up as thor covered his eyes and dramatically lamented.
“my fine maiden, i have corrupted your modesty!” he boomed, spinning around with heavy thumps of his feet. you tried to comfort him, wrapping yourself up again. at this point, it didn’t really matter. what had been done was done, and you were thankful that you’d at least put on undergarments before leaving your room.
“thor, it’s fine, really, i-”
nat and rhodey stuck their heads out of their rooms at the sound of the god’s loud cries.
“how can i ever repent? a fair lady such as yourself should never have to experience such intrusive exposure!” he wailed. “‘tis my fault, m’lady! i have breached your privacy. this is an egregious act! how ever can i redeem myself? i offer my sincerest apologies.” thor dropped to his knees with a loud thud, eyes still covered.
“‘c’mon thor, it’s all good. we’re all good, okay? apology accepted. you haven’t, uh, breached my, um, modesty. my exposure is not… intruded?” you sunk down to his level and patted his giant arm comfortingly. “there, there.”
thor cracked open his fingers and peered out at your shyly. “really?”
“yep,” you said, popping your p and giving him one last firm pat. you turned to wanda. “can i have my pajamas? please?”
she ushered you into her room and slammed the door shut behind her as natasha and rhodey howled with laughter at the red-faced god of thunder.
--
“…and then, my towel dropped and thor saw me practically naked and he was bawling,” you wheezed, slapping your knee as the avengers around you howled with laughter at thor’s expense. his arms were crossed like a toddler having a temper tantrum, and you slid over to him so you could give him a tight hug.
peter froze, eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. he’d taken some time to clean his room and in the meanwhile, most of the avengers had already gathered for movie night and apparently, you and thor had found time to get naked. he wanted to die.
“it’s okay, big guy.” your arms were only able to wrap around half of his body, but his tense muscles relaxed under your touch. thor glanced over at bucky and caught his wink. thor nodded in understanding.
with a surprised squeak, you found yourself lifted up by two strong hands and placed onto thor’s lap. thor hugged you tightly from behind. “thank you, fair maiden. you are too forgiving. in asgard, you would be championed for your kindness.”
you tilted your head back to meet his gaze. he smiled down at you fondly and patted your cheek. peter, blood boiling, couldn’t bring himself to look away as he watched the two of you cozy up on the couch. he took a seat in the closest open space, which just so happened to be between sam and the end of the couch. sam pursed his lips to hold back his mischievous glee.
you were laughing at all of thor’s jokes. why didn’t you ever laugh at his jokes? oh, that’s right. because he never told any jokes in front of you, because he was too fucking nervous.
tony strutted into the common area, arms laden with bags of candy. he tossed them in the air and they showered the group, some of them hitting heads and some of them falling directly into open hands.
“over here!” rhodey called to you, waving a bag of swedish fish in the air. you groaned, but excused yourself from thor’s cuddles. peter wanted to sink into the couch cushions. all day, the avengers had been hitting on you, going so far as to do you favors and even give you special treatment that they’d never given to anyone else. it was as if suddenly, everyone had come to the startling realization that you were beautiful and incredible and priceless. peter thought it was unfair. he’d been the first to recognize that, but all of a sudden, you were surrounded by admirers who’d stolen you from peter’s lovestricken grasp. the fact that you were so kind to everyone who’d adored you today and had never taken advantage of all their efforts only made him angrier. you were so fucking sweet, and he wanted to punch you in the face because of it.
tony groaned. “don’t start this, rhodey.” he only smirked. you stood in front of rhodey with your arms crossed, a withering glare burning through rhodey’s face as you evaluated his bag of swedish fish.
“i am confiscating this illegal substance.” you held your hand out impatiently. “you are being charged with the posession and use of dangerous substances.”
rhodey popped another swedish fish in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously on the sticky candy.
“oh yeah? and what gives you the right?”
“i- i’m making a citizen’s arrest. this is a threat to public safety! your fumes are contaminating the air, and whatever this-” you grabbed the bag from his hand, “-is, it’s a menace. it should be criminal to enjoy these. god, peter could probably base his web fluid off of whatever’s in this candy—that’s how sticky it is!”
peter’s head perked up like a summoned puppy at the sound of his name, which did not escape the observation of sam and bucky.
“i- yeah! did you know i make my own web fluid?” he blurted to his own mortification.
“i do! it’s so sick, i don’t know how you managed to do that without using fancy stark stuff, it’s so genius! i wish i-”
“alright children!” tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “movie time! sam, it’s your turn to pick out a movie.”
the room erupted in protest.
“but that’s not even-”
“we’ve never taken turns before-”
“bullshit! you made this up-”
“what is sam blackmailing you with to get you to side with him?”
tony threw his hands in the air. “enough! my tower, my rules. and today, i say that sam gets to pick the movie.” tony sent sam a not-so-subtle wink that sam couldn’t help but snickering at. he grabbed the remote and flourished his hand towards the television for the dramatic announcing of his movie pick.
“ladies, gentlemen, and gods!” thor nodded, pleased. “may i present to you… tall girl 2!”
the reaction was immediate and violent. nobody was happy. well, nobody except sam and bucky.
--
half an hour into the movie, you found yourself intertwined with sam right next to peter, who had been trying his best to fix his eyes on the screen and being pitifully unsuccessful every time. you weren’t oblivious to the negativity radiating off of your seat neighbor, but he’d seemed to be upset with you for the entire day and you weren’t in a confrontational mood. you’d actually found yourself a little entertained by the movie, so when sam had called you over, you’d planned on falling asleep on his shoulder. now, you were holding your breath as you watched jodi humiliate herself in front of the entire cast.
“pssst,” sam whispered in your ear. you instinctively brought your shoulder up to protect your ear from his tickling breath.
“what?” you hissed.
“i need to tell you a secret.”
“what are you, 12? why didn’t you tell me earlier? we’re in the middle of movie night.”
“i forgot,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your flush to his chest. his face slipped into that dangerous combination of the puppy eyes and pout, and as he inched closer and closer to you, you felt yourself cave.
“fine, asshole. what is it?” you grumbled, taking both of sam’s cheeks between your hands and shaking his head back and forth in annoyance. sam swatted your hands away and motioned for you to come closer. you pressed your forehead against his.
to anybody else, the gesture would’ve seemed intimate. to peter, it wasn’t just intimate. it was like a knife to the chest. and having it happen just a few feet from him? that was a twist of the knife. hearing your soft whispers and watching as you caressed sam’s face was like pulling out the knife and letting peter bleed out.
to you and sam, this was a compromising position. not because it held any romantic or sexual significance, but because sam was fully aware that you would not hesitate to head bump him like you’d done last time he’d pulled you in close and tried to tell you a “secret” that ended up being him screaming into your ear. sam was like your irritating cousin that only visited on thanksgivings, but was also the only cousin your age and thus, the two of you were forced to get along. you had a familial bond, and the thought of being romantically involved would make the two of you gag. it felt incestual.
sam slipped a finger beneath your chin. at this point, peter wasn’t even bothering to hide his stare. his eyes were boring into the back of your head, and he prayed that the darkness of the room would hide his obvious jealousy. it did not. his face was very much illuminated by the brightness of tall girl on the television screen.
“what the fuck are you doing?” you whispered under your breath, careful not to breathe too forcefully and tickle sam’s face. he had thrown a mini-fit the last time you’d made that mistake.
“my secret’s about peter,” he hiccuped through his whisper, fighting the urge to break out into a full blown laughing fit.
“peter?” your voice grew higher and sam felt the tremor that ran through your body. he smirked.
“yeah. he’s right there though, so maybe we should talk about this in another room?”
you nodded. peter couldn’t make out anything you were saying, only that you’d agreed to something, and he prayed that it wasn’t about a hookup. fuck the bleeding out and slow death. sam was fully aware of peter’s crush on you—he was the one who encouraged peter to make a move—and here he was, seducing you right in front of peter’s face. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill sam or himself more. maybe sam first, and then himself.
“let’s get out of here,” sam said, louder in volume so that the people around the two of you could hear. a small chorus of ooohs and teasing points followed as sam took your hand in his and began dragging you away. you trailed behind him, shooting peter a nervous glance as your mind raced with all the possibilities of what sam wanted to tell you. was he going to warn you that peter hated you? that you shouldn’t sit next to him anymore? that he’d been acting so on and off with you because he couldn’t keep up the facade of tolerating you?
peter bit his tongue so forcefully he thought he might’ve drawn blood. he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to soothe his pounding heart, before jumping to his feet as well.
“sam, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, the insecurity of being overheard or watched by other avengers leaving his brain altogether as he met the eyes of the man who’d betrayed him.
“what do you mean, what am i doing? i’m just getting some fresh air,” sam shrugged nonchalongly. “hey man, are you okay? you seem a little worked up.”
peter looked at you apologetically for just a split second before he shoved sam in the chest and sent you stumbling backwards. you stood motionlessly in your spot as you took in the scene before you.
“keep your hands off of her,” peter seethed, poking sam in the chest with such aggression that sam was forced to take a step back. “you- i can’t believe you.”
sam held his hands up placatingly, shaking his head as if what peter was saying was unbelievable. “you never made a move. you don’t own her, peter. you keep saying there’s nothing going on between you two, so i figured it was fine to shoot my shot. unless there is something i’m missing?”
“no, we’re just fr- fuck, no! i-”
you scoffed, tugging on the back of peter’s shirt to move him out of the way. “sam, what did you do? i know you’re behind some sort of meddling, you little shit.”
“nothing, nothing! i was just going to tell you something and then spiderboy got all jealous and bothered.” sam rolled his eyes. “whatever. you guys deal with it. i want juice.”
the common area was silent with the exception of peter’s heavy breathing and a tall girl 2 musical number. you tapped peter’s elbow weakly.
“pete? why don’t we… go somewhere else,” you grimaced as you watched him struggle to compose himself and meet your eye.
“yeah. okay,” he sighed, dropping his head.
you considered taking his hand, but he seemed volatile and you didn’t want to risk agitating him more. instead, you walked in silence to your room as peter followed like a kicked puppy, eyes never leaving the ground.
you held the door open for him and in the darkness, you swore you saw him blush. the only light in your room was the moonlight streaming through your window, and the atmosphere seemed too intimate to break by flipping the overhead light on, so you tapped a small lamp in the corner of the room.
you motioned for him to sit on the bed. he hesitated before sinking into the mattress, dropping his head into his hands while he rested his elbows on his thighs. you sat next to him cautiously, not sure if you should say the first word.
you couldn’t tell much time had passed, but after what seemed like years of silence, he inhaled shakily and blurted, “i’m sorry.”
“i- you don’t have to apologize to me. probably sam, though.” you sighed, kicking your legs back and forth nervously.
“no, i’m- i’m sorry that i interrupted you guys. what you do in your private life is none of my business, and i shouldn’t- i had no right to get upset at you.” he paused, spitting out his next words as if they physically pained him. “or… or sam.”
“it’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. sam wanted to tell me a ‘secret,’ apparently, and he was just being theatrical. i’m sorry if we disturbed you.”
“i-” peter scoffed and he wasn’t sure if it was because of how ridiculous he’d been acting or how painfully oblivious you were. “he wasn’t going to tell you a secret, he wanted to hook up with you. and i just- i saw the two of you leave and i was so angry.” he turned his torso to face you, and for the first time since his fight with sam, he looked you in the eye. “i don’t know if you know this, but you’re… you’re magical. in every way. and- and i always thought that about you, and i just think that- that you deserve the world.” he ran a hand down his face. “you deserve someone who really cares about you and i didn’t want—and i know it’s none of my business and it’s not my place—but i didn’t want you to be with someone that couldn’t see that about you. i know sam’s a good guy, but he never… he hasn’t been in a relationship in months and he’s not looking for one and i just didn’t want to see you hurt. i didn’t want you to be another girl he sleeps with and then forgets about. because you’re not like everyone else, you know? how could anyone forget about you?”
you stared at him, your jaw dropped. peter closed his eyes as soon as he saw your expression, his face crumpling with devastation. he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and his mouth parted just slightly, like he was going to say something more, but then he pushed himself off the bed and moved towards the door.
you were outraged. “are you serious right now?” you snapped. “no. no, you don’t get to say all that and leave. sit down. you’re not leaving until we talk this out.” you stood in front of the door, quirking your head as if daring him to object. he didn’t.
when the two of you settled back into your previous positions, you sucked your bottom lip.
“sam and i, huh?”
peter nodded solemnly.
“sam and i…” you snorted. “never. that’s never going to happen. he’s like, a sticky toddler brother. or the extended family you visit that you’re forced to babysit. god, no. we’d never see each other that way.”
peter was unnervingly still, but you could see his hands clench into fists as you spoke. you slowly moved your hand to hover over his fists, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn’t. you rested your hands over his, prompting his fingers to uncurl and settle down.
“sam wasn’t trying to… he wasn’t going to hook up with me. he was going to tell me a secret about… about you, actually,” you muttered. this time, it was your turn to look away bashfully.
“about me?” peter marveled. he was pretty sure he knew what the secret was. fuck sam. if sam was going to reveal peter’s huge crush on you, he could’ve spared peter all the suffering and jealousy and just tell you outright.
“yeah. he never did though, because…” you trailed off, waving your hands around explainitorily.
“yeah, sorry about that,” peter said, scratching the back of his neck. he opened his mouth to say something at the same time you did. the two of you laughed it off awkwardly, and he swore his heart palpatated a bit when you insisted he speak first. everyone knew speaking first was the lesser choice.
“right. in case i haven’t made it really obvious and awkward and haven’t completely humiliated myself,” he sucked in a harsh breath and fixated his stare on his shaking foot to avoid your gaze, “i like you. a lot. i thought you were so pretty when i first met you, and i never meant to fall for you, but god, whenever i see you talk to the team and every time you save my ass on missions and every time you try and talk to me even when i’m being a cold asshole, i just fall more and more in love with you. and i’ve been so unfair to you—this whole thing is so unfair to you—because i’m just springing my feelings on you after having been so distant and it’s just that… you make me so nervous,” he laughed mirthlessly. “and you’ve got such a- a magnetic presence that nobody can resist and today i watched everybody finally come to the realization of what i’ve known this whole time, that you’re absolutely amazing, and i was so jealous because everybody else could express that to you and i couldn’t. and i know that’s stupid because it’s completely my fault for not being able to talk to you properfly, and-”
“stop. stop, peter- shut up,” you interrupted, grabbing peter’s face and turning it to meet yours. he shivered as your eyes flickered between his; he felt like you had looked right past his hazy nervousness and right into his heart.
peter grimaced, stomach churning, mind blank, and mouth dry. he couldn’t predict, for the life of him, what you were going to say. never had he pictured himself in this situation, so he’d never been able to overthink it and come up with every possible ending. so he just sat there.
you didn’t quite know what to say either. this was not a situation most people found themselves in. there was no precedent.
“i’m flattered,” you started, and peter winced hard. it was a classic frienzone move. “i’m flattered that you think that way about me because i think that way about you and i can’t believe-” you exhaled, shaking your head in disbelief. “this is so crazy. i- peter, you fucking idiot! why didn’t you just-” you tugged at your hair. “god, i’ve been so in awe of you this entire time and i didn’t say shit and you didn’t say shit and now this is where we’re at.” you groaned and threw yourself backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. “i’m so mad at myself,” you mumbled.
peter was baffled. “i’m not following?”
“sorry, that didn’t really make sense, did it?” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “i liked you too, peter. well, not liked. i’ve liked you this whole time and i still do, and i was just too scared to do anything because you’re so smart and witty and everyone loves you and, well, you don’t know me nearly as much as everyone else so i thought you just didn’t like me because you’d never treat me the same way and i know i’m new and that changes the team dynamic so i just thought it was pointless to, you know, pursue anything,” you gulped at peter’s silence. he had clenched his jaw and was staring at the wall wordlessly and unmoving.
“was i wrong? should i have said something? you still feel that way about me, right? please, peter. say something, please… peter?” you whispered, voice trembling. maybe you shouldn’t have called him an idiot. or swore at him. damn, you really weren’t good at being romantic, were you?
he turned around, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, and whispered so softly you almost thought you’d been imagining it. “can i kiss you?”
you blinked. “can you- yes, you fool! com’ere, asshole.” you scrambled to your knees as peter clambered onto the bed and you grabbed the fabric of his shirt and he took your jaw in his hands and he kissed you, oh that boy kissed you stupid.
it was all wandering hands and tight embraces and silent screams of “don’t leave me,” and “i’m here,” and “finally,” and you were breathless and mesmerized when he finally pulled away.
“peter…” you whimpered, and he moved so his back was to the headboard, extended his arms, and spread his legs so you could find a home between his body. when you buried your face into his shoulder and hooked your arms around his, you fought back tears as you cursed yourself for all the insecurity that’d held you back from being here, in his arms, for months. but you were in his arms now, and it felt like you were always meant to be there. your body molded into him, and this time, it was you who was boneless and melting into the arms of another.
peter rubbed your back, likely going through the same thought process, when you spoke up again. “you said you loved me.”
peter sighed, kissing the top of your head. “yeah, i did. is that okay?”
“it’s okay. i want to- are you going to stick around after this? because i want to be able to love you too, and i don’t know if your feelings have changed because so much has changed just now,” you rambled, “but if you’d let me, i really want to love you. i want to love you.”
he twisted his torso so he could meet your eye. “you think i’m going to leave after this? after i’ve been pining after you for months? never. you could never get rid of me. i’m here for as long as you’ll let me be. and if you could love me one day, then damn, i’d be the happiest man in the world.”
he ran his thumb under your eye to catch the tear threatening to spill over. you smiled wobbly at him and with a quick raise of your chin, you pressed your lips to his once more.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
i'm considering doing a couple mini-fics/drabbles of their relationship after this one-shot! thoughts?
mini fic: group hug
drabble: you are in love
peter parker masterlist | main masterlist
taglist: (comment to be added!)
@im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87
#peter parker x you#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker x stark!reader#peter parker x avenger!reader#peter parker fic#peter parker fluff#peter parker friends to lovers#peter parker x y/n#peter parker enemies to lovers#peter parker mutual pining
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Imagine #2: Confessing your love to them.
wordcount: 590
Love confession to your friend while he gets ready for a date
not beta-read
“You sure I look alright, sweetheart?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair again. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date.” He mumbles.
Instead of replying, you are contemplating your whole existence. You’ve been in love with him for as long as you’ve known him, and for a while you thought the feeling was mutual. But alas, you didn’t have the balls to confess, and he hasn’t done so either. So, here you are, giving the boy you loved with your whole heart advice for his date with another girl.
Being so lost in thought, you didn’t notice his confusion at your silence. He knew you’ve been having a little rough time lately, but you haven’t been yourself for a few days. For a second he contemplates if its because of his date, but he quickly dismisses that thought.
“You know, if you’re not feeling well you don’t have to stay here. Its late and I know that you usually like to go to bed early. I don’t want to keep you up. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.” He says earnestly.
You sigh softly, before looking up at him. He spots the pained look in your eyes and walks over to where you are sitting on his bed. Carefully, he cups your cheeks and looks at you with a gentle gaze.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, sweetheart? You’ve been awfully quiet.” He asks softly, his thumb caressing your skin.
“I just…” you say hesitantly, looking into his mesmerizing eyes. “Are you sure you want to go on that date? She just… doesn’t seem like your type.”
“I don’t know, I just thought it was time for me to get out there you know. Is the date really what’s bothering you? Do you know her from something? Did she hurt you?” He asks, worried at the thought of someone hurting you.
“No not at all! She seems lovely.” You say hurriedly. “I guess I just always hoped… that I had a chance or something. I know its silly but…” You don’t finish your sentence immediately, trying to see his reaction, only to see him patiently waiting for you to finish. “I always hoped that at the end of the day it would be me you came home to, you know. That I’d be the one you kissed. And for a while I had hope that you felt the same, but I just got too insecure I guess.” You confess, closing your eyes as if to shield yourself from the possible rejection.
He lets out a soft chuckle, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know, you have nothing to be insecure about sweetheart.” He says softly. “You are so incredibly kind, and creative. You are smart and helpful. You are beautiful and so incredibly fashionable.” He tells you with a cheeky grin as he tugs on the hello kitty sweatpants you are wearing. “You are everything a guy could want and much more. And I’ll be yours in a heartbeat, sweetheart. I just need you to say the words.” He confesses to you, looking into your eyes with a soft gaze.
“I am so incredibly in love with you. I have been forever and ever. Please let me be yours.” You tell him, almost begging.
“Took you long enough.” He teases, before connecting your lips in a soft kiss.
“I am so utterly in love with you too, sweetheart.” He mumbles, before continuing to press soft kisses to your lips.
#imagine#fluff#friends to lovers#mutual pining#marauders#remus lupin#sirius black#james potter#marvel#peter parker#loki laufeyson#bucky barnes#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#amateur writer#writers on tumblr#x reader#harry potter#frank castle#spencer reid#criminal minds#slytherin boys#fem reader
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Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)
Chapter 5
Pairing: Miguel x reader
Summary: y/n is a kind hearted nurse who’s life gets turned upside down as she get fired from one the most prestigious hospitals in NYC , desperate , she start filing job applications wherever. Coincidentally a stressed Miguel is looking for a nurse due to a big amount of spider people getting injured due to the surprisingly large amount of anomalies happening in the spider verse. What could go wrong is these two meet?
Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think)
Mutual pining
✎office romance (¿)
Hidden romance
✎Smut available as story progresses.
Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader
✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.
✎ Angelic reader .
It girl reader.
✎I try to be as accurate as possible.
English is not my first language so bare with me.
✎badass stoic x sweet empath.
Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3
Content :Fluff
See master list for previous or future chapters
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In a blink of an eye Miguel throws you into the air and with the help of a few faux webs your quickly taped down to the ceiling ,your hair falls straight down blurring your vision as you feel your back ache after suddenly being slammed into the roof.
-“¡Mierda Peter!”- Exclaimed Miguel as he watched Peter Parker walking in drunkenly still with his baby’s kangaroo on.
-“Where’s y/n?”- asked the joyful man with a can of Heineken in his hand.
-“she…”- Miguel lengths his sentence trying to compose a valid excuse but the worry that he didn’t stick you properly to the ceiling resulting in you falling down and possibly hurting yourself was all that could occupy his mind.-“Just left actually.”-He says with a fake smile.
Miguel was too busy trying to not break a sweat from his sudden acting role to notice that even though Peter was drunk his spider senses still worked perfectly and that he could sense your exhilarating heart beat from miles.
-“Well I just wanted to tell you that y/n told me about your injury so I could help out with the spiders , and as a friend I want you to take care of yourself, Mayday and I care deeply about you , we don’t want you to martyrize yourself for the sake of the association. For you information we perfectly run smoothly without your help for a few days. So as long as I find a babysitter for may I’ll replace you on your missions ,how does that sound ?”- Even though Peter was inebriated he pulled together the last night of eloquence he had so he could show his dear friend he cares about him.
The corner of Miguel’s lip raised for a millisecond before returning to his normal serious facade.
-“Thank you Peter but I won’t let you take over my responsibilities over a little injury. Plus with the recent raise of anomalies i don’t want to take extra risks. Do you want me to ask spider noir to take you home , you seem wasted.”- He ends the conversation with a small chuckle.
-“He’s even more wasted than I am! I’m too drunk to discuss this with you right now but just know the conversation is not over.”- Peter hasn’t gone out in a while since having mayday so he enjoys all the fun he could get.
And with some heavy unbalanced steps he quickly left the room leaving you too alone.
-“Miguel, I feel all the blood in my body in the front of my face. Please get my down.”- You groaned as you stayed still.
-“Coming.”- He said as he jumped about 13 feet in the air, With one hand he grabbed you by the waist and with the other he used his claws to rip the webs , he swiftly landed on the ground while you sorta struggled to climb off him to place yourself on the floor.
After letting you down you noticed that Miguel winced and started to rub the area that you just injected.
-“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You should take peters offer , it’ll be for his own good too. He needs those missions to get in shape so he’ll be able to keep up with mayday.”- You giggled as you started to put away the supplies.
-“Too dangerous.”
-“Oh Please Miguel, I know you think you’re the shit but i know they’ll get by perfectly without you.”- You sometime liked to provoke men by hurting their ego this way it’ll leave them flustered or confused, this lets you convince them easier it may seem Machiavellian but it’s for his own good.
Miguel’s brows tightened into a knot while he glared at you.
-“It’s not that, I’m just Really good at my job I guess.”- He murmured trying not to flatter himself too much when in reality he likes to think that the success of the spider society is due to his strict , hard handed leadership.
-“Whatever you say, i hope you’ll be able to climb walls as your ribs start pinching your lungs.”- you struggled to avoid letting out a laugh while watching the terror mirror in his face.
You quickly put away everything in their respective rooms and commanded the bots to sanitize the room before your arrival.
You grabbed your purse and walked back to the main room thinking migue would have left already but to your surprise his big figured continued to loom over the poor stool.
-“Goodnight Miguel.”- You smiled as you grabbed the door handle , before you knew it you felt a calloused warm hand grab your wrist.
-“Let me take you home.”
-“What for?”-You questioned.
-“To thank you for your services ,even though they were forced on to me.”-Miguel insisted as his hand refused to leave your small wrist
-“Be my guest.”
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Miguel drove a Ford raptor 150, A real vintage model but you could say it went well with his personality. The car smelled of smoker rosewood and was surprisingly spotless.
As you were driven to your home you couldn’t help but notice Miguel’s fixed gaze on the road or the way his rough hands grabbed the staring wheel firmly, you tried to not let your eyes wonder but they automatically traveled up to his arms that were decorated with bulging veins and a beautiful tan, your glare finally ended up on his face, his cheekbones and jawline were as sharp as his attitude , but what really caught your attention was his eyes ; they were cold and opaque like they were dull buttons glued on to his face. You concluded that he was strangely too handsome to be Spider-Man , he should be an old spice model or something.
-“Got something on my face?”- He murmured looking at you through the corner of his vision.
-“Yeah you got a little bit of blood; you better clean that up before they think you’ve killed someone.”- You responded as fast as lightning refusing to let him catch you off guard.
-“You always got a comeback huh?”- He sighed as he looked through your side mirror so he could take a turn.
-“Actually it comes out pretty naturally. It’s a gift you could say.”- You started to enjoy the conversations you two have while alone, this moment is not the exception. He was actually a pretty nice guy when he’s not throwing tables at unsuspecting people.
-“You live in a nice area of the city, I’ve never been here;must be a pretty safe spot.”
Miguel changed the subject while looking at the surroundings of your street , you choose this area because there were a lot of parks , trees and most importantly beautiful flowers to gaze at while taking a run.
-“want to know an unconventional reason why I choose this street.”
-“Enlighten me.”-He said as he swiftly parked in front of your building while turning his body to you so he could pay attention to you fully.
-“My parents immigrated from another country and where I’m from we lived in small town surrounded by a lot of nature, so you can imagine the shock when we moved here with concrete everywhere and all the pollution. So I picked this street cause the smell and ambiance sort of reminds me of home you know?”
-“It’s funny how everyone tries to make their reality one where they were most happy, even if it doesn’t exist anymore.”- He noted with a somber look in his eyes.
As you noticed the tensed up environment you decided to call it a night.
-“Thanks for the ride Miguel.”
-“Wait let me walk you to your door.”- He said grabbing the handle of his door.
-“There’s no need.”- You said with an earnest smile. -“Don’t want the door man to get the wrong idea.”
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Miguel locked the door to his penthouse and took his shoes of at the entrance , the Interior of his home was inspired by rustic minimalism.
The low glow of the lights made the house seem lonelier that it already was.
The bronzed man made his way to the shower turning on the cold water before taking off his clothes. He looked into the mirror to stare at the injuries staining his body, he was used to looking at open wounds and sometimes cuts that never healed properly due to his negligence, but then he stared at the little dots pertaining from your syringe, it’s the first time someone cared enough to tend to his injuries. He knows it’s your job and that he shouldn’t feel giddy over this, but after today he couldn’t help but feel a little appreciation towards you.
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The next day In the spider society hungover Peter Parker had a very important mission, he wanted to convince Lyla to suspend Miguel’s watch for at least a day so he could heal properly; he already informed the closest spider people so they could all be on their A game on todays mission for the sake of Miguel’s health.
-“Lyla I know it’s too much to ask but please keep it a secret from him!”- Pleaded out Peter almost on his knees.
-“There’s 5 anomalies roaming around the multiverse, how do you expect me to stay quiet”.- Groaned the ai.-“It’s Miguel’s choice if he decided to go out and bust his back, plus if I do decide to follow up on your plan he’ll be forced to stay here in HQ and bitch at me.”
-“Just trust me I have a plan.”
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After a rainy morning you arrived at HQ , after some greeting you noticed two spiders who were particularly hung over so you decided to prepare some iv bags and fluffen some pillows in case they wanted to come by and take a nap.
But as soon as you unlocked the door you noticed a sandwich from an artisan deli from the nice part of the city along with a warm latte.
You tilted your head in confusion wondering who could have left it here, on closer inspection you noticed a mint green note the top of the sandwich that read.
(Here’s last nights over time fee.
-M)
[a/n: sorry for the long wait but I enjoyed writing the
chapter and that’s all that matters to me🫶🏻 I’ll update from now on once a week :3]
#miguel x reader#mutual pining#office romance#across the spiderverse#comments are appreciated#fanfic#miguel o'hara#smut available as story progresses#spiderman#peter parker#you working as a nurse at the spider society#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderverse x reader#Spotify
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Committed to the Cause (Part 2) - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader
Summary: Spider-Man keeps on showing up to check on you, as annoying as he is you can’t help to find his presence comforting.
Word count: 7,623
Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury, swearing and alcohol.
Your arm was feeling numb again in that unmoving angle, the cast made your skin itchy but you couldn’t even scratch it, it almost made you go insane at times.
Jerry had finally left and you were doing the best you could to collect the dirt from your large table, leaving everything clean for the next morning.
It was probably past nine when you managed to close the store, a message from your dad, reminding you about the big wedding on Friday, you had to stay overnight on Thursday to make all the arrangements for the tables in time and… well and you were frustrated because without an arm it was double effort.
The commute back home served you enough to awake, you still had stuff to do to prepare for tomorrow’s long day. Feeling instantly more relaxed when you got in your building, the keys fell at your feet when you went to unlock your apartment’s door. It had happened at least once a day since you got that broken arm, you grunted, still a little upset with Spider-Man. Of course you didn’t attack him back when he visited you that night at the hospital because you thought it was a good act of kindness, showed that he cared and that he was sorry for what he did. And you were kinda loopy on meds.
However you were upset, and maybe not with him but for the way you felt so useless most of the time. Working on the bouquets was twice as hard and they weren’t as pretty as when you arranged them with both hands, you couldn’t chop anything and you always poured your coffee over your shirt. This could help you be ambidextrous but it was hard, and you had not the patience for it.
Percy didn’t welcome you when you got in. You huffed. Great, now your dog didn’t want you either. Turning the lights on, your bag plopped on the floor.
“FUCK!” You squealed, back resting on the door.
“I should’ve announced myself, sorry again.”
Spider-Man was sitting in your living room, Percy on his lap, tail whipping his leg. This was the most bizarre thing you’ve seen in your life.
“You can’t be—jeez you want me at the hospital again? Oh god,” you were panting.
You didn’t hear him approach but Percy was soon jumping at your feet demanding attention. As you hovered over to try and catch your breath your line of vision became red spandex feet.
He squatted down to be eye level with you, he waved your way. You felt a bubble bursting in your insides and you wanted to punch his face, poke his big white bug eyes and you also wanted to cry until you fell asleep.
“You’re upset.” He pointed.
“Well of course! I came home after a very long day and my dog doesn’t welcome me and then you almost killed me with your bug-ish presence in my couch, like how did you expect me to react!” You reincorporated, sighing.
“Right, sorry my bad…again.” Spider-man’s hands went up, clearly taking the blame.
Eyes glancing at him, Spider-Man was not paying attention to you, he was looking around, not touching anything, and Percy somehow was following him around. Annoying.
“Anyway, what are you doing here?” you went to the kitchen to grab some water.
Spider-Man popped in. “I just wanted to see how you were doing… it’s been two weeks, and—“ he went silent, it made you turn around.
He was leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, eyes staring. A shiver ran down your spine, it was weird to be observed so intently and not be able to read the expression of the other person.
“And?”
“Nothing, just wanted to see how you were, okay? I’m gonna go now. I see you are not in the mood.”
He backed out and you sighed, resting your only good arm on the sink. Why was he so annoying?
“I had a bad day okay, sorry If I’m taking it against you.”
From the living room you heard him grunt or chuckle or whatever.
“I get that,”
“You can go do your hero stuff, it’s fine. Thanks for checking on me.”
You took a long sip of the too cold water, wincing you felt it drop in the depths of your belly.
Not even surprised when you accidentally knocked a cup off the counter while you tried to wash the dirty dishes on the sink.
Your eyes instantly closed, another cup down, this was the sixth one in two weeks, without counting the dishes and glasses.
Spider-Man appeared next to you in a second.
“Um, do you need help? With… anything?”
You stared at him and felt your nose tingle, eyes prickled.
“No, thanks.” With a wet hand you moved away from him, noticing how close he was now. You gathered the broom and the dustpan, ready to clean your mess when a red gloved hand took it from you.
“Y/n, let me help you.”
You sniffed, not letting the emotions win. “I can do it, really.”
“I insist.” and that was the end of it.
Spider-Man cleaned the floor, washed the dishes and even put the kettle on to make tea. The feeling eased a little as you watched him do it, ever so often insisting on doing it yourself all for him to wave his hand at you, dismissing your words.
“Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the New-yorkers.” You said putting a green tea bag—that Spider-Man helped take out from the package—in your chipped cup filled with hot water.
“I am,” he exclaimed, sitting opposite you on the small kitchen table, hands resting on his lap, fingers intertwined. “Am I not?”
You couldn’t see it but you heard the sardonic tone. “but I’m not in danger.”
You hid your tiny smile behind the cup lingering on your lips.
“No, but you could be, shattered glass can be deadly, I know from experience.”
You scoffed. “I’m trying my best not to destroy what’s left of my tableware, thank you.”
Hands up in the air again. “okay, but you could burn yourself with the tea, burn injuries are pretty awful—“
“You know from experience too?” you pulled in your lips trying not to laugh.
“Hey! I know you’re making fun of me but yeah, and it’s not pretty.”
“Fine,”
Percy came running into the kitchen, he laid down right at Spider-Man’s feet, you frowned.
“Percy, you betrayed me!”
Spider-Man laughed. “See, at least someone likes having me around.”
You noticed his laugh for the first time and it was boyish, carefree and contagious. Now that you were thinking about it, it felt less weird to have him there, yes it was weird from all the angles you could look at the situation but it felt somewhat comfortable.
Silence landed heavy in the room, your mind was restless to find words to say, to express how you felt; tired and also grateful for this unexpected visitor, you wanted to tell him something meaningful but you didn’t find the words. He just kept petting the dog and looking at you occasionally.
“You always work late?” he asked suddenly.
“No, but it’s been busy weeks, you know, the holidays and there’s this wedding on friday and they need like twelve bouquets for the tables and another four for the bridesmaids so tomorrow I’ll be in the shop until I finish.” You scrunched your nose. “it’s fun, I usually don’t complain but it’s been hard to try and do things with your less skillful hand.”
“And it’s all my fault,” you glanced up at him through your lashes, he was looking somewhere up your ceiling.
“Yeah but it’s done, you can’t do anything about it.”
His big shiny white eyes focused on you. “I could,”
“It’s enough by having you here making tea for me.”
He sighed.
The sound of sirens went louder as they ran down the street. Spider-Man stood up fast, Percy almost jumped on his spot.
“Uh, do you mind if I—?” he pointed to your window.
“No, go ahead.”
“Cool, thanks. I’ll… see you around, right?”
Weird, your stomach felt weird. “Yeah, why not!”
“Great, okay I’ll go now, job can be a pain in the ass.” He chuckled and with a flick of his wrist he went out flying. You stood on the door frame looking at the open window when something smacked on the class and in a fast movement it closed, you started laughing.
In awe you ran to the window, the air instantly made the web freeze and shine under the moonlight.
•••
Your back was aching with every tiny little move you made. Feeling the muscles and nerves squeeze and stretch made you wince. You were finally done, the clock said four in the morning, body screaming for bed. At least you didn’t have to deliver them too, you had no bike either way. That was Jerry’s job for once.
A light drizzle was falling as you tried to wrap your scarf around your neck as well as you could with your good hand. The shop was closed and the padlocks were in place. You still needed to walk two blocks to get to the subway.
In there were only people that had to work too early or people that were finally off their night shift, the subway was for once silent. Sitting down, your eyes spotted a pair of black converses almost in front of you. Your eyes slowly looked up, a black coat, a red beanie in place and earphones on, eyes closed.
You squinted to give the person a better look, those eyes opened. You tried but the effort was futile, brown eyes found you looking and you simply gave him a lipped smile as a way to hide the embarrassment, your red cheeks gave you away anyway.
The boy put one earphones off and gave you a soft smile. “Hey” he greeted.
“Hi,” damn now you made him uncomfortable and forced him to talk. He leaned on, resting his elbows on his knees as he typed something on his phone, the one he put away only a second later.
There, you were staring again.
“Thanks for the flowers by the way, you shouldn’t have done it but thanks I appreciate it.”
Oh, right, he was the daisies’ guy, that’s why he looked familiar. “It's fine, you can always come back and buy another bouquet from us.”
He laughed. “yeah, you’re right, I should do that.”
You smiled and both traded looks, the whole scene was a bit weird, too tired to process things, too early to be on the subway chatting with a boy.
“Were you working? Because it is a bit late” you pointed, playing with the cuff of your sweater.
“Is it? It could also be pretty early” you chuckled at that. “But yeah it was a late shift… I had a few difficulties with my ride so I had to take the good ol’ sub.” He said but you notice one of his hands wrapped his wrist absentmindedly.
Scratching his cheek he rested his back on the backrest, eyes on his hands. You only nodded. “Yeah same,”
Silence for a bit, you could feel his eyes staring.
“Are you doing okay?”
You furrowed. “What?”
His arm went up to show you what he meant. “Your arm,”
“Oh yes… it’s mostly fine now. Still need to wait a few more weeks to take it off but,” you shrugged, “could’ve been worse”
“Sure, must suck though.” You caught real anguish in the way he said it.
“It does.”
Your face went deeper in your scarf as the boy looked at his fidgety hands.
The urge to speak was down on you, you hated awkward silences.
“What’s your-“
“You live-“
Both said at the same time and grins appeared on your faces. His smile was nice and it made his eyes twinkle.
“Go ahead please,” the boy quickly said with a hand gesture.
“Er, I was gonna ask you what your name was.”
“Oh” he scratched the top of his covered head. “Peter…Parker?”
You chuckled. “You sure?” He cocked a brow. “You don’t seem very convinced.”
He let out a low laugh. “Right no yeah, it is Peter Parker… sorry yeah or just Peter it’s fine!”
“Okay,” you smiled. “I’m y/n”
“Cool… cool name” he avoided your eyes and you smirked. You usually didn’t make boys feel nervous, this was fun.
Peter looked around and abruptly stood up, making you jump slightly.
“This is my stop… I’ll see ya later?”
Your eyebrow quivered for a second, the tone reminded you of someone. “Sure, get home safe”
“You too…” doors slid open just in time and… he took a step out still facing you.
Peter waited for the doors to close to wave at you as the subway moved. You beamed… that was definitely weird.
•••
Peter felt incredibly stupid doing this, but there was something about being near you that caused his brain to make stupid decisions. He’d try to mask them as “apologetic actions”. He had no webs left, he forgot to put his emergency cartridges in and now he was back at his apartment, backpack filled with cartridges. A quick breakfast and a shower later he had his Spider-Man suit on, under his clothes and there he went out into the wild.
He walked around his neighborhood for a few minutes to try and deceive his incoherent ideas, yet there was this urge of seeing you again popping out of nowhere. Peter had been fighting it harder lately, so he opted to go to work. Stark Industries helped him focus on other things, like perfecting his web fluid and explosive web balls. Sometimes he still sent images to the Bugle to keep gossip at bay, now more than ever after his little incident it was to try and calm the waters.
That served him well until he had to head out. Peter’s mind went back to basics.
Grabbing coffee and putting his casual clothes in his bag, he gave in rather easily. Swinging—now full Spider-Man out— around buildings with two cups of coffee and a blueberry muffin in a bag. Three days in the same week, he was heading back to you.
You are going unhinged with these apologies Peter.
Balcony window slid open and there it was, Percy instantly jumping at his feet, begging for a belly scratch. Spider-Man sighed, comfort wrapped him as his nose caught the scent of coconut. Scanning the room he found a new batch of daisy poms and roses.
“Is someone home?” he said loudly, not wanting to scare you again.
“Hello little Percy, here I didn’t forget about you.” Peter put the coffees on the coffee table as he scattered inside his backpack, a little tupper of fruit appeared on the dog’s line of vision. It made the furry thing go crazy when he tasted a piece of red apple.
Peter’s eyes caught movement and you appeared on the door frame of your room, a towel on the top of your head, a big pink sweater on, tired eyes but you were smiling at him.
“Hey” Peter said, waving a hand. He quickly grabbed the tray with the coffees. “I brought you something.”
Your eyes grew big. “Oh, thank you. What are you doing here?”
Good question. “I was in the neighborhood, wanted to—“
“Check on me… again?” you smirked.
“Yeah, is that wrong?”
Your head shook. “I suppose it isn’t, but it still is a bit weird if you ask me.”
“Thought we were friends or something.”
Taking steps closer to him you grabbed your coffee, taking a sip, Peter watched under his mask, expectantly.
“We aren’t friends but we are definitely something.”
He felt the smile spread on his face. “That's what I’m saying.”
It was funny how he made himself at home, sitting on the couch, as he fed Percy tiny pieces of fruit, you disappeared in your room only to appear minutes later with your hair down and damp.
“How are you going to drink your coffee?” you asked him with a funny look.
Peter noticed then what you meant. “Um I don’t know, you can leave the room and let me drink it and then you can come back… my identity needs to stay secret.”
You chuckled. “yeah of course, that would be so inconvenient for me, you are in my house.”
“I know but how else would I drink it then?” Percy barked, as if giving Peter the reason.
He smiled when he saw you roll your eyes at him. “Just put the mask up to your mouth, don’t think I can recognize someone just by looking at their chin.”
“I don’t know, can you?”
You shrugged. “Anyway, you need to stop being so nice with Percy, he’s been a little punk since you fed him, it’s like he has fallen in love with you.”
“Not my fault that I’m so lovable. He has good taste, right Percy.”
The tiny dog only blinked and jumped on the edge of the couch for attention.
“See? He reacts to your voice so easily. Must be some kind of animal connection.”
Peter scoffed. “I am slightly offended, I am not an animal, woman.” The sharp look you threw him made him snort. “Just have spider-like abilities, wait— do you actually think I am like some hybrid creature, half spider half human?” he let out a long loud laugh when you diverted your gaze.
“Don’t laugh, it is kind of common sense, you shoot webs and fly and climb walls,”
Peter couldn’t breath, that was rich, no one had actually asked him if he had more than two eyes or if he had fangs or fur covering his skin.
He saw the cushion flying from the corner of his eyes, it landed with a low thud on his head.
“Stop it!” you squealed. “How could I know you are indeed a normal looking human?”
Peter’s belly hurt from laughing. “I could show you,”
You looked at him with big eyes. “Don’t lie, you wouldn't show me”
He chuckled. “Yeah… maybe one day, who knows.” he laid his back on the couch, the cushion you threw him now on his lap. “Wow that was— you are very funny.”
“Ha ha yeah and you are rude.”
“I am definitely not,”
A sigh escaped him, his body felt light and relaxed. He tried to think of another time where he’d felt this at ease.
Nothing came to mind.
“You didn’t go to work?” Peter said after clearing his throat, he felt a flutter in his stomach.
“I didn’t… Jerry is taking care of the arrangements with one of his brothers, and because I stayed until pretty late…well—”
“Or early,” Peter mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Uh, nothing…”
“Well… they gave me the day off to rest.”
“Cool, so… do you have plans? As in right now?”
This could either go splendidly well or horrendously wrong.
“No… Just want to have some food… why?”
Peter noticed how your mind was trying to figure out where his question was going.
“I could go get us pizza? Or sushi? Maybe thai?” he shrugged. He was playing it cool, he was surprised at how casual his voice sounded, the complete opposite happened inside his body where everything was on alert, ready to be rejected.
“um…” your eyes landed on his face, Peter felt his whole head grow hot, what was his purpose with this? He wondered. “Sure, yeah that’d be nice… but are you gonna eat? Don’t want to be eating pizza while you just watch.”
Your face was a combination of emotions; a smile, flushed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows, Peter felt the urge to pinch your cheeks.
“Of course! I’m not inviting you to eat something just to watch you, not my kind of kink.”
This made you snort, he smiled.
“Okay then, just no pepperoni.”
“Pizza it is, be right back.” He stood up in a swift jump.
“Wait, let me give you money.” You grabbed his wrist.
“Nope, my treat.”
Peter didn’t let you say more, the next thing he knew he was smiling, swinging through buildings and screaming feeling alive and jolly. For once he felt happy back in his world. Not an ounce of regret or the thought of his other Peter variants in mind.
•••
Eating pizza with Spider-Man was not on your bingo card, not in your wildest dreams thought you’d have him on your couch half mask up, eating pizza and drinking beer while you two watched New Girl.
“I’m gonna admit that this show is pretty funny, I was not expecting it.” Spider-Man said, munching on his food. You saw his little smile as he reacted to something Schmidt had said.
More than watching the show—the one you’ve watched and re-watched several times—you were mainly focused on the arachnid hero at your side. He seemed to be so immersed in the whole thing that he didn’t notice your staring.
You found yourself smiling when he did so, or when he absentmindedly scratched his cheek or the top of his head. And you wondered how weird it was for him to be living a secret life as well as a heroic one. You wanted to know who was under the mask as well, because just these little snippets of normalcy between you and Spider-Man—even though he was a bit annoying—felt so normal. You liked his personality, he was a good company after all. The man under the mask as a matter of fact had to be just as nice.
“Who is your favorite character?” He asked, fully looking at you, mask back down. He caught you looking.
Trying to act unsurprised, you took a bite of your now cold slice of pizza. “All of them, have a soft spot for Nick but they’re all amazing, that’s what makes the show so good.”
“Hmm… yeah well I don’t know, after two episodes all I can say is that the girl with the bangs,”
“Cece,”
“Yeah, Cece, is going to end up with the guy with the tip jar.”
“Schmidt.”
“That’s what I said.”
It made you smirk that even now you could sense when he was smiling under his mask, it was in the way he spoke that told you he was happy.
“I’m not saying anything, you need to watch it,”
“Fair enough.” He hugged a cushion against his chest and threw you a look. “Put the next one, come on woman.”
“Wow, see! Rude.”
“Sorry,” he squeezed your arm. “I just want to see if I’m right.”
That’s basically how it started, New Girl was a bonding method you found really rewarding, lots of laughs and nods. Spider-Man left only twenty minutes later when his phone started buzzing, with an apologetic gesture he exited the apartment through the window.
The next time you saw him was a week later, he carried a bag full of Chinese food, and you kept on watching season 4 where finally Nick and Jess get together.
Percy got a new toy, which ironically was a tiny Spider-Man stuffed toy, it made you laugh and Spider-Man felt quite proud of the joke. These late date nights became not a daily thing but a regular occasion, never on the same day but most of them around ten at night.
Five weeks later you were trying to come up with a way to wrap a fairly big wedding bouquet with a baby pink ribbon with just one arm. It was a hard task, Jerry left for lunch and to deliver a few stuff, you were not expecting him to come back until probably two more hours. That left you with no more option than to wait in the store.
Until you heard the bell chime, announcing a new customer. Leaving the flowers slowly on the table you sighed in defeat when the bouquet lost form without your holding them.
“Peter Parker!” you said gleefully stepping into the actual shop.
His smile and dreamy eyes caught you off guard. “Hey y/n”
And there’s something about hearing your name coming out of a cute guy that made you feel special, and stupid.
“The usual I suppose.”
“Yes,” he nodded and you disappeared into your station again. “How you’ve been?”
“All right, I'm counting the days until I get this damn thing off my arm, but besides that everything’s been good.”
The flowers you picked for Peter were always the most beautiful, the ones with the brightest colors with the freshest steams and even when you were giving him a variation of daisies, you didn’t dare to charge him full price.
“How about you, how’s work?”
His visits had been twice a week, and you liked having little chats with him, he told you the other day that he was working on a secret project at Stark industries and that he couldn’t tell you more because it was indeed a secret.
“Peachy, remember the project?”
“Yes,”
“It’s going pretty great, actually we could have a few tryouts within the next few days, so I’m pretty stoked about it.”
“That’s cool, even though I don’t know what’s that about but I trust you. You’re the future of science mister Parker.” you said with a chuckle as you appeared on the counter.
A slight cherry color was staining his cheeks, adorable. “I am not, I just like to—you know… help.”
“Uh huh, very heroic of you.”
He frowned. “Not heroic enough, it’s nice of you to say, though.”
“Could you help me wrap them, you know the drill already.”
“Of course,”
He knew pretty well, you’ve been asking him for help wrapping the bouquets whenever he showed up when Jerry wasn’t around, which was pretty often, as if he knew when Jerry took his break.
Peter held the paper in place as you placed the flowers, then he simply followed your instructions into twisting and folding the right corners until he had a pretty perfectly wrapped bouquet of rainbow like daisies.
“I don’t want to abuse your kindness but can you help me with another bouquet? I’ve been trying to wrap it but I just can’t find a way”
Peter blinked, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah no problem, always nice to be of help.”
You let Peter in, your station was a mess but it was all part of it, he looked around as you told him to hold the flowers up for you to see and rearrange them properly. White gardenias, and white roses filling the air with their sweet aroma, you were very concentrated in doing your job, instructing Peter to hold the tip of a cream color ribbon with his thumb.
“Like this?” he asked, and you nodded.
“Okay so now I am going to surround the stems with the ribbon and you need to hold it on every round, okay?”
Your eyes went up to find his already on you, the way he was gazing at your eyes and your nose and your lips made you suddenly very shy.
“Peter?” Voice came out as a mumble.
Quickly he shook his head and nodded. “Yeah I got it!” voice going slightly high pitched.
You did your best to not touch him much, but it was inevitable to not brush your hand against his skin or his covered chest, his sweater was soft and now the scent of flowers mixed with his aftershave.
It was… nice, something within you churned. You gulped.
“Done,” a sigh escaped you, this had been a bit harder than you thought…. Not talking exclusively about the bouquet.
Your eyes found his and both of you smiled, it wasn’t uncomfortable yet there was a slight shift in the atmosphere.
With a blink Peter instantly turned around and walked away from you. “How much I owe you?”
“Same as always,”
Peter handed you the money, he crusty and you scrunched your nose, he caught you doing so
“That was… I didn’t mean to curtsy,” he laughed, ears turning bright red. “I’ll just go. Er thank you!”
With a chuckle you returned an exaggerated curtsy. “Bye, sir Peter.”
“You are so annoying, you know that?” He said pushing the door open, he waved at you through the window display.
•••
It was past eleven, and Spider-man didn’t show up again, it’s been four days now, you were worried, only slightly, you should have known better than worry about an actual hero, he must’ve been doing pretty important stuff, he didn’t owe you and yes you were friends… or something but it was odd to not have him around, not even a note or a quick stopping by as he had done before.
Percy had been looking through the window every night to see if his favorite human appeared, yes Spidey had taken your place which was unfair considering you fed and played with the doggy all the time.
Huffing you snuggled deeper into your mattress and duvet, your feet were cold, this impeded you to reconcile sleep, but eventually your whole body fell into slumber. Thoughts and the images of a weird dream started to take shape and form an incoherent plot. Yet the barks of Percy made you jump out of your skin in an instant.
Sitting in bed with your heart palpitating so fast you felt it coming out of your chest any second. Holding an empty vase near your bedside table you walked out of your room, Percy instantly coming to meet you.
“What is it?” you asked him in a whisper, to which Percy only ran away straight to the living room.
Shuffling and grunts echoed in the apartment. You gulped, the grip on the vase tighter. Mind came up with a plan in seconds, that was adrenaline acting up. If you ran, turning the lights on and then throwing the vase to whoever was in there you could gain enough time to hold Percy and run away.
Yeah, that was as good as it could get, shaking your head you did it, no overthinking just running, switch on and you almost tripped on your feet.
“HOLY FUCK!” you shouted, the vase fell on the couch, dammit you were about to ruin a pretty great vase for this.
“Sorry, I am really sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention, just Percy here, little snitch.”
Spider-Man was holding his chest, as he was sprawled on the floor, the window slightly open cold winter air swirling in.
“What… are you okay?” you saw the splash of darker red on his suit.
Oh no.
“I… yeah. Sure, Just need a sec to catch my breath, promise you if I had somewhere else to go I wouldn’t have bothered you but… oh” His hand went up , as if he was examining it. “Shit that’s lots of blood.”
Instinctively, you approached the wounded man in your living room. Kneeling by his side the blood was creating a small pool of crimson liquid, the metallic smell made you want to gag.
“Jesus, er I, okay I’m— I need to see what you have there, can you move? Are you dizzy?”
“Yes, I am very dizzy and… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to move.”
“Of course, okay but I still need to see your wound, let me just get my scissors, there’s no way I’m letting you die in my living room Spider-Man.”
At this time you weren’t sure where the scissors were, but how could you, you were panicking, you had zero to no experience in wounds.
A knife and scissors and towels, water, aspirins, you grabbed everything you found remotely useful and let it fall at Spider-Man’s feet. He chuckled and grunted all together.
“Okay, let me see.” You went to grab his suit but he caught your hand mid-way, warm and gooey with his own blood.
“No, I can take it off, this suit” grunt. “Believe it or not it costs a fortune, well no, it doesn’t but it cost me a lot of time to make.”
You were looking at him unblinkingly, how on earth was he able to joke. “Whatever, just let me see!!”
“Jeez y/n chill I won’t die… at least I hope not.”
You grimaced just by looking at him struggling with his suit, slowly but surely you waited and helped as much as a girl with one functional arm could.
His chest was like a work of art, splashes of red angry hits, purple fresh bruises as well as yellow-y spots where starting to disappear to leave space for the new ones. Near his ribs there were three wounds, you couldn’t tell if those were deep or not but blood was seeping out of them, your whole body tensed.
“It’s not as bad as it looks, those will heal in a couple of hours.” Spider-Man affirmed, mumbling. Percy was licking his naked arm, you heard the man let out a low laugh. “Thank you Percy I knew you’d understand.”
“Who did this to you?” you gasped, feeling your eyes prickle.
“Bad men, they usually use guns so I was not ready to be attacked by…um sharp… objects…”
“Those are knife wounds?”
“Not exactly but you could say so, yeah.” Spider-Man winced.
Ok, that was your cue, you needed to figure out a way to fix him. “I don’t know what I’m doing but we got this Spider-Man,”
Your only hand available was shaking heaps as you pressed the towel against his wounds. “Add pressure and I’ll start cleaning the rest.”
You demanded and Spidey obeyed.
His mask was still on so you had no clue if he was looking at you or just resting his eyes. Either way you cleaned his torso as best as you could. Unfortunately the towel started to stain red, and you had to run to get another one, no time to wash or rinse. Percy followed you like his presence was doing something to help you.
When you came back only one of his wounds was dripping, the other two were bright red.
“See? We are getting there.” Spider-Man said in a chuckle probably because of your expression, total awe.
“Yeah, I see now… but still I’m gonna wrap you in these.” You put up some tights and baby pink towels.
“Uh?”
“I know these are not bandages but it’s what I have, okay, so I’m putting the towel there and then wrapping it in place with the tights.”
Spider-Man had no other option so he sighed, giving you green light.
The wrapping ended with various grunts and low cursing coming mostly from him but you also collaborated with a few big heavy words as it wasn’t an easy job to do but it got completed, your forehead had pearls of sweat at the end of it.
Sitting beside Spider-Man you felt the warmth coming from his body, unexpectedly his thumb came to caress the side of your forehead, right up your temple, you looked at him moving your head away just a little.
“You have blood there.” He simply mumbled but made no effort to move his hand. You kind of didn’t want him to.
“It's fine,” hand went flying up your face, clumsily touching Spider-Man’s on the way, it was probably the adrenaline still running up your veins that caused the almost electroshocking reaction inside you.
Spider-Man’s hand fell on his lap and Percy quickly ran to nuzzle against his fingers.
“All right then.“ He said as he scratched the dog’s ear. “You know how to be adorable and make me feel better.”
“Hey, I did all the hard work” of course you were going to complain.
“And I’ll forever be grateful for it, but Percy is adorable, look at that face.”
You instantly notice he felt better, that was a big relief.
“You are adorable too. Is that what you wanted me to say?”
You scoffed. “No, but I am indeed very adorable and also very intimidating.”
Now it was his turn to scoff. “Absolutely not, you are small and cute. Not one hair of intimidation in your body, y/n come on let’s be for real now.”
The weariness made you laugh at that. “You are such a pain in the ass Spider-Man, I fucking patched you up and you are making fun of me, that’s not the way to go man,”
You tried to ignore the fact that he had called you cute, that had caused your belly to do a flip.
He went silent, you instantly went to look at him, he couldn’t die now, right?
“You okay? And be honest, please.” Jokes aside, you were still worried.
He nodded eagerly. “I do feel better, a little bad that I ruined your towels and the floor will need a good scrub later.”
“Don't worry about it, I can charge people to come see the spot and become a billionaire.”
Your smirk made him chuckle. “Funny, but I’d ask for my share.”
“No way, it’s my apartment and you came for help, that’s how you pay me for ruining the floor.”
“Oh so you do care about me ruining the floor with my blood.”
You gasped, offended. “You are truly the worst, just for the record I don’t care, the idea seems like a good way of making easy money.”
“At my expenses.”
“Yeah, but you owe me.” Your broken arm went up to remind him, he shook his head.
“I thought I covered that up already… I see how things are now.”
You laughed, and he mirrored you, only that his laugh was followed by winces.
“Let me get you some water… Are you hungry?” you got up, noticing now that your pajama had dark red spots spattered.
“Your look is very Carrie.”
“Thanks to you,”
“Always happy to provide.”
Again, a pain in the ass this masked boy was. “Want a sandwich?”
“That’d be great actually, thanks.”
As you prepared sandwiches and tea, you had the unsettling feeling that Spider-Man would either disappear or die right after you dared to divert your gaze for even a millisecond, him lying there in the still fresh pond of blood. The gears kept on running inside your brain, making you peek through the door every couple of minutes to see him and calm your unsettled self. He was still in place, Percy with now pinkish fur sprawled on Spider-Man’s lap where he was brushing the tiny dog’s head.
Warm and toasty bread was all there was to smell in the apartment. You put the plates on the coffee table, one at a time, then the tea and then you went to gather bed sheets to put on the couch.
“Sit up here, you will be more comfortable.” You didn’t ask, your tone pretty much demanding,
Spider-Man didn’t argue with you but he complained about the obviously painful wounds. You were wary about every move, every deep breath and sigh he made, you observed him, your sandwich rested cold on the plate, opposite to Spider-Man he was devouring the simple meal you made for him, you offered him your own food and he looked at you, and even though he had that stupid red mask on, you could feel the intensity of his eyes, those white big bug eyes that made you wonder what their real color was.
Spider-Man had thin lips, not too thin but they weren’t plush, they were pink even with all the blood lose, that gave you some relief; his jaw was strong and sharp, a little stubble was resurfacing form the skin and he had a kind smile, you liked how he smiled at you.
“Stop looking at me like that, I’m not going to die… at most I’m gonna finish all the food you have in the apartment.” He said munching on the last bit of sandwich.
Warmth crept through your neck. “Sorry, I’m a bit worried…”
“I—yeah, right it was all my fault sorry. You would be sound asleep if it wasn’t for me.”
He moved, almost ready to leave the place but his body refused, he grunted and plopped back on the couch.
“Shit,” he said, mask down again.
“You can say as long as you need.” You went on to collect the dirty dishes and somehow you expected the hero to protest or try to help you but he simply sighed.
You didn’t make the effort to wash dishes, instead you did what it was a necessity now. More towels and the mop, a bucket with a bunch of cleaning products got translated to the crime-scene-looking-spot in your living room.
“Whoa! Hey, I am definitely not letting you clean that.” Spider-Man quickly got up and after a moment of dizziness he kneeled beside you. “Give me that.”
“Hell no, you just sit there, you really need to rest. I have this under control, and it’s my apartment so you just stay put, watch tv, or even better get some sleep and stop bothering me.”
“But it’s unfair, I—I caused this.”
“Yeah but you can’t clean it, you can pay for it later.”
He got up and sat on the couch. “Just because I’m really not feeling well I’ll let it pass… but it hurts me to see that you’re getting rid of that art work.”
“Uh huh, it was a great gift to humankind but I don’t think people would come see it either way, no one would believe me it’s your blood.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile. The words caused the reaction you wanted when you heard the boy gasp.
“You only said people would pay to see it to make me feel better?” eyes found his body, he had a hand on his chest, clearly taking the offense to a dramatic level. “So low of you y/n, I trusted you.”
“What can I say Spidey,”
You heard him chuckle after that and your chest felt funny.
“Has anyone ever told you you are too nice? Like seriously, any other person would’ve kicked me out or would’ve called the police but you… you are insane, woman.”
The laugh you let out made him react the same way. “I just accepted you because you brought coffee and bought me pizza, and because you like New Girl just as much as me now.”
“How convenient.”
“That’s just the truth.” at least you tried to convince yourself of it.
“Well… thank you.”
“No need, you’d do the same for me.” The spot of crimson liquid was now gone, a light stain remaining. Your brows knitted. “You wouldn’t let me die in your living room, right?”
“Of course not, I’d leave you in an alley.”
“Ha ha funny.”
Both of you kept silent but only for a brief moment because Spider-Man made sure you heard him.
Web fluid took the mop from your hand, making you look his way.
“Y/n I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe… look what I’ve done now; condemning you to a friendship after I broke your arm and you saved my life, I think we are stuck together.”
The way your smile only grew into a beam after those words, being attached to Spider-Man didn’t sound bad at all.
“I like that promise,”
You weren’t sure how but you knew that the boy hidden inside that suit was beaming at you the same way you did.
The floor got mopped, the air smelt fresh and Spider-Man was lightly snoring on your couch as Percy finally laid on his fluffy bed, after seeing his pink painted paws you made a mental note to shower him.
Carefully you sat back on the free space on the couch, trying your best to not wake the boy there. Eyes scanned every inch of his body several times, making sure his chest was moving and his body wasn’t tense. Your mind was running wild thinking of having him there at all times, to have someone to talk to, someone who could help you cook or take Percy for a walk. And it was creepy to think about such things when you had no idea who was the boy sleeping on your couch, yes it was Spider-Man but who was he really.
The night swallowed your thoughts and wonders, making your eyes flutter, each blink slower, until you couldn’t resist it anymore, you were sure he was fine now so no worries were keeping you from resting. Still somewhere in your subconscious you were on alert, and the moment you felt the shifting on the couch you woke. Spider-Man was ready to go, you knew, it was all in the way he was standing.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered as if someone would hear him.
“Stay,” you mumbled, feeling the slumber heavy in your eyelids and body.
“Can’t… I have to go now, but I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”
You barely heard him whisper this to you, but you nodded your head. A breeze made you snuggle between the cushions, noticing a blanket over your curled body, soon you were dreaming of being able to drive your bike, to wash dishes with both hands, to finally shower properly.
Part 1 - Part 3
#tasm fanfiction#tasm fic#tasm!peter fluff#tasm peter parker#tasm peter x you#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fluff#peter parker reader insert#reader insert#spiderman x reader#spiderman fluff#spiderman x y/n#spiderman fanfiction#post no way home#mutual pining#protective peter parker
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Pretend (peter parker)
A/N: so this is a repost, since my first account got suspended, but i love this fic so much that i couldn't not post it again. This was my first time writing for Peter Parker (mcu) But you can aslo read for any of them :)
Enjoy,
Cloudy
Dont be shy, reblogs, comment or like!
Peter Parker was the new roommate at the compound. You thought he was cute, and he was your age... finally someone to talk about things of your era.
“Hey boomers” you cheer when you enter the open kitchen.
“Mornin’ Y/N” respond everyone.
“Hello Y/N” blushed Peter, but he could see something was not right with you, he could sense it.
“Hey kiddo, she won’t bite” teased Sam.
“Depends when”, you teased back making Peter blushed even more. You got a sweet spot for the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.
You felt dizzy this morning, a little bit lightheaded. You pretended to be okay in front of them. But you were scared because you didn’t understand what was going with you.
See you had powers; I mean you were an avenger. Like Wanda and Pietro, you were an experiment. You could read thoughts and see the future. But you had developed another power, that you tried to understand with Bruce and Tony. Lately you would dissociate in time. Sometimes your body was moving before you did. And this morning was like the other for the past two weeks.
“Shit, she’s not here, is she?” asked Clint.
You became blurry and your voice distorted.
“Hey boomers!” you said again. Nobody responds this time, they all looked at you. You felt the tension and you looked at them. “What” your voice echoed. You turned your head and there’s a reflection of your movement.
“Shit I feel dizzy” before you fall, Peter caught you. His Spidey sense made him the only one able to catch you. Your body was visible three times in the kitchen and the other avengers were not able to take the right one. But Peter reached for the correct body before he could think of it.
“You’re, ok?” he asked you.
“Well, you caught me, so never been better”. He helped you sit down on a chair and brought you a black tea and some buttered toast.
“I think you need to it. You dissociate a lot when you’re with an empty stomach” pointed Peter.
“I hope you are writing down Bruce or Tony, he has a point”. They both nodded and Tony talk to his watch... taking notes.
“Well Queens, you sure are very observant.” Said Steve.
“I-I need to prepare for college” blurred out Peter before almost running out of the kitchen.
“Well done old man, who’s gonna bring me my toast now” you complained.
Vision appeared from the wall and took your plate with your toast.
“I am Y/N, you look very pale... you must eat before dissociating again”.
“See Vision and Peter take care of me... not like you other”.
“Oh my god, you are sure she’s not your daughter Tony,” laughed Natasha.
After breakfast, you went back to your room, it was the one next to Peter’s. You passed by, hoping he hasn’t gone without you to college. You entered your room still feeling dizzy but this time you knew it was because of the emotions bubbling up in Peter’s head. With your dissociation you felt everyone emotions, it was tiring but you delt with like a champ... well you pretend anyway.
Images entered your brain. It was you; Peter was thinking of you, and you weren’t playing scrabble.
“Shit, that’s hot” you said out lout. Peter was imagining you riding him. You were wearing on of his scientist pun shirt, hands in your hair, praising him. His hands were on your thighs and then his thumb was on your clit. The emotions, he was feeling, were so strong that you could almost feel him inside you.
“PETER STOP IT NOW” you screamed. The images in your head froze and you felt the embarrassment growing in Peter heart.
“s-sorr-sorry Y/N” he yelled back.
He was cute, but he was very frustrated since his breakup with MJ. You felt bad for him. You didn’t know the entire story, he told you it was an agreement between them to end their relationship... but you were sure she was more ok with it than him. You felt his broken heart for weeks.
You finished to get ready for school and wait for Peter in the living room. When he arrived, he was red like a tomato, and he looked at his feet.
“It’s ok, Petey. I’m not mad”.
“I-I’m sorry. Eve- ok you’re not mad. Bu-but I shoul-I should not do that either way” he stuttered.
“It was hot, very intense, I almost felt you... inside me.” His eyes went wide but you were too deep in your reflexion to see it. “Crazy right? I think I can feel more when I’m like... I don’t know connect with the person... I should tell Bruce about it”.
“That you can see and feel my... wait don’t tell him, please” he begged you.
“Relax Spidey, I am not telling him I can see and feel when you jerked off.” you laughed when he blushed even harder if that was possible.
You took his arm and went to the garage to take one of Tony’s cars. Your touch went straight to his crotch, he had a crush on you since the last two months. You were kind to him, always defending him when the other teased him too much. Always helping him, when he struggled with his project for school or when he wanted to improve his suit or his fighting skills. You made him laugh and forget about his problems. You were like his personal sunshine and when he missed May too much, he looked at you to feel a bit more home. You were his new home now, but he was too heartbroken to see it yet.
You both arrived in college in no time. Peter drove because you were not sure if you would dissociate again. When he parked the car, you were about to go but he stopped you. “You are not totally here yet” he said calmly. You watched his hand on your forearm, but you didn’t feel his grip.
“Jesus Spidey-boy, how?”
“Spidey sense, I think”.
You were the only one to not called his Spidey sense, “Peter tingle” and he liked you a lot for that among other things.
When you felt his grip, it when straight to your core... for no reason except maybe it was like a reaction to him daydreaming about you. His gaze past you and your heart broke. You turned your head and you saw MJ talking with a guy, a handsome one, and she kissed him with passion. Back to Peter, you saw him with teary eyes.
“Hey Pete, don’t... she’s not worth it.”
“I want to move on, it’s been six months.” he murmured.
“You can’t decide when you’ll be totally healed. it takes time.” You caress his cheek in attend to comfort him. He gave you his puppy eyes signature. Those fucking eyes.
“You can pretend.”
“Pretend?”
“That you moved on too. “
“How?”
“We could pretend that we’re dating.” He looked at you, then looked at MJ who was still kissing the new guy, then looked at you again. His hand on your arm holds you tighter and you hand on his cheek went to the back of his neck.
“It won’t hurt anyone, plus maybe your fantasy might come true.” you teased him. Without any warning he kissed you. it was a kick gentle one. You blinked a few times before registering that he did kiss you.
“S-sorry, I should ask you” You shook your head before lean in again and connect your lips to his. This time you took control of the kiss, you took your time to feel his lips against yours. He sighed and parted them a little, your tongue went brush his teeth. You thought he would back off but no he pushed his tongue out to meet yours. You broke the kiss first, scared to not be able to stop... he was a good kisser.
“Well, one of my fantasies is already complete” he said with a certain confidence. You smiled, you liked when he was more confident. “I feel better already, thanks”.
“Did I kissed your boo-boo away?” you joked. He rolled his eyes and got out of the car. He waited for you, then he put his hand on your back.
“It is not for pretending that we are together, you’re still sitting in the car” When he finished his sentence, you felt your soul coming back to your body. Peter holds you closer to prevent from any falling. He heard your heart tumbled in your chest and he hold you closer by putting his harms around your waist. Your head fall on his shoulder by the impact of yourself on your own body. “You, ok?”.
“I don’t know Pete”. You looked up to meet his gaze. His concern about you, you felt it. “It has never been this strong, and… what the fuck? I mean you just hold me and wait for my soul to come back to my body, like you felt it?”
He looked you up and down before putting his lower lips between his teeth. “I-I felt it yeah. Like goosebump. And you have this look in your eyes when you dissociate. Like a cloud on your pupil.”
You’re surprised. He is very observant of your condition, even more than Tony or Bruce, maybe it’s because is more with you… or maybe he likes you more than you think.
“Can you note that somewhere? I have to report this to Bruce.” He nodded and helped you reached your first class.
“Meet me at 2 in the parking lot?” he asked you. “Yeah, fine see ya Peter”. He kissed your cheek before disappearing in the crowd of students. You started blushing for sure.
Two weeks later your condition is worst than ever. You can’t go to class because you keep dissociating. You don’t even know where you are most of the time. The only way to be yourself is when Peter is around you and it makes you sick to be this dependant on someone.
“Y/N?” call Bruce.
“My room.”
The scientist comes in and analyse your state from the door. He frowns.
“Yep, I look like shit, I know. I can’t shower. I mean I can not get up from my bed. Too dizzy”
You hear him hums and scribbles on his notebook. You turn your head slightly and your vision blurs instantly. You close your eyes and groan of frustration. Then… you hear his thoughts.
Maybe the kid could help her shower. Just to see if it works.
“I am not showering with him” he chuckles before speaking out loud.
“No, of course. But maybe he could be near you? I mean when he’s in the same room as you, you seem to functionate almost normally.”
“I am not a machine, Banner.” He sits on your bed, and he pats your leg. “I know, sweety, but could you try? A shower, it’ll make you feel better.”
You sigh and nod positively. Bruce leaves your room, and you wait. A few moments later, you feel Peter coming. He’s nervous and impatient. Bruce knocks and you tell them to come in. Peter is slightly blushing, and his smile disappears when he sees you on your bed.
She looks so ill. I should have come earlier. Shit she can hear me. Think of something, think of something. Lama, dogs, cactus, not her naked, don’t picture her naked. Idiot she can see right trough you. Fuck, fuck… why am I like this. Watermelon, pineapple, no not pineapple, don’t think about what your sperm will taste if you drink or eat pineapple. Stop it, Peter.
You can contain your laughter at his thoughts. Bruce looks at you, but you quick to tell him that Peter is doing what it does best, overthink everything. “And that’s cute, he’s too concern about me. You know, I have to live without you Spidey.”
“I let you two alone now. Let me know how it goes”.
I am cute? She thinks I am cute. Fuck, she’s still reading my mind. Hi Y/N, hope you like my rumbling thoughts.
He thinks about what he did and saw during is time in college and you sigh in relief. You prefer those kinds of random thoughts, feels more like the radio and you don’t have to focus on what is saying.
“You want to try to get up?” you nod before sitting on you bed. Your head does not spin like you’re drunk anymore. You look at him, he stays right beside your bed, slightly nervous.
“Give me your hand Parker… please”. He holds is hand out for you to reach. You take it and push yourself of your bed. You sigh and grip his forearm with your other hand.
“You good?” you nod too weak to form word. He leads you to the bathroom. You both enter and then you stare at each other.
“H-how do you w-want to- to proceed?” he asks you.
“Maybe you can just turn your back and stay in. And no peaking with the mirror behind you.”
He nods and turns; you’re facing his back. He hears you strip from your clothes and enter the bathtub.
“How was your day?” he scoffs but you continue “it’s nicer for me to hear you with your actual voice and not just your thoughts Pete”. He laughs and then start to tell you everything that happened to him. You interact a bit with him, but you quickly become quiet. He continues to ramble and stop instantly. Something is wrong, he can feel it.
“Y/N, still there?”
“I don’t know” your voice echoes. He doesn’t know what to do, you told him to not look at you while you shower. But he feels that you need help, that you are dissociating.
“Peter?” he hears it three time and he closes his before turning and going to the shower. He trusts his Spidey sense to reach you. When he feels your arm, he grips it.
“Peter” you ask this time able to realise that he is with you under the water. His sweat and his socks are soaking wet, but his eyes are closed.
“You there with me again” he breaths out.
“I am, thanks”. He smiles at you shyly. “Peter?”, he hums. “I can see what you’re thinking” he blushes.
“Sorry?”.
“Why am I always wearing one of your t-shirts?” a strangle laugh lives his lips.
“Because I never saw your naked chest and I don’t want to imagine it. So, you in my t-shirt are good enough.”.
“Oh my god, you such a dork!” he takes his hand of your arm, and you feel like you’re falling. Before you know it, Peter catches you in his arms. Now your naked form is pushed against him. His eyes are still closed, but his breathing becomes erratic.
The water is running down on him. You follow a drop along his jawline, and you feel a wetness between your legs.
“Peter, open your eyes” he shakes is head. Your hands snake along his chest to his cheeks, before tugging in the back of his hair. “That’s why I told Bruce I was not showering with you”.
“Wh-what?” his expression is priceless. He arches his eyebrows, and you can almost see the surprise behind eyelids. Your only response is to connect your lips with his. He quickly kisses you back and push you against the wall.
“you’re soaking wet, Pete”. You whisper when he breaks the kiss.
“So are you”. This time he opens his eyes shocked by his own words. He meets your big grin, and he blushes.
“You’re a specimen Parker, how can you tell me that and then blush like a twelve years old”, because he is right, you are wet… he is making you wet.
Flashes of you riding him in his shirt comes to your head and you laugh. Peter closes his eyes again to stop his thoughts. “I might just do that if you help me finish showering.” His face and ears are crazy red, and he chuckles.
He helps you and puts you in bed. When you head hits the pillow, you fell asleep. Peter stays a while and watches you. Bruce sneaks in and asks what happened. Peter reports the essential and skip the kissing part. You twitch in your sleep and your hand reach for Peter’s. you interlace your fingers with his and you hum.
“Good, I let you take care of her.” Bruce goes out and Peter does not know what to do. He sits awkwardly on the mattress, a butt cheek hanging out of it.
You can lay with me.
He looks at you. Did you just to talk to him in his head.
Need to note that, Pete. But still, you can lay with me if you want. I like to be the little spoon.
He takes a deep breath and positions himself behind you. You scoot over him and take his arm to put it around your waist.
“Thanks Pete.” You murmur.
He kisses your temple and watches you drift in a deep sleep again.
#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#mcu peter parker#peter parker fic#peter parker smut#college!peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x female reader#peter parker x avenger!reader#avenger! reader#enhanced!reader#enhanced!character#powerful!reader#college au#friends to lovers#mutual pining#repost#signal boost
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But Peter doesn’t count as a love interest, not really. He can’t. They’re– partners, or- something. Whatever it is, Peter looks up to him for guidance and advice, and Tony’s already such a sorry excuse for a leader, he can’t go throwing feelings into the mix. Which is why, for maybe the hundredth time, Tony tilts his head back, eyes the ceiling, and says, “FRIDAY, open new voice message.”
A/N: This work had sorta been sitting in my stash for a long while because I’m chronically too-anxious-to-post, but the event convinced me to go for it. These prompts are fun, and the fic def is too. :)
#my works#starker#sfsummerbingo23#fic#photo inspo#idiots in love#mutual pining#thirst#drunk tony stark#overtones of#sugar daddy tony stark#camboy peter parker#model peter parker#technical difficulties#like i said it’s fun
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Christmas Movies and Kisses
Summary: Peter Parker x Fe!OC (Alex) -> Peter and Alex have known one another for three years and maybe, finally, this is the year they fall in love.
Warning; Fluff, kissing, spoilers for Muppets Christmas Carol.
They had known one another for three years now. First meeting at Shield HQ, the pair found themselves inseparable. Peter and Alex, Alex and Peter. They were never without one another. Which was why Alex’s mother couldn’t understand why she was still single.
“What about Peter? Maybe that’s why you can’t find a boyfriend. They know that you’re too close to Peter.”
“The reason why I can’t find a boyfriend is because I don’t want one, Mom.” Alex told her for what felt like the thousandth time. “And Peter’s my best friend. If they can’t accept that we’re friends then I’m not meant to be with them. It’s that simple.”
“It sounds like you’re making decisions around Peter and not for yourself.”
“Mom.” Alex warned. “Look, boyfriends will come and go but my friendship with Peter? That is for life. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life and have my friends around me, than widowed, alone and sitting watching the sunset every day without my family.”
“Honey, that’s how you make decisions about how you want to spend the rest of your life with someone.”
“And spending it with Peter wouldn’t be that bad.”
“As friends? Maybe.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Is this the men and women can’t be friends, speech?”
“Honey, you know I don’t believe that for one second. Look at me and Mark. He’s been my best friend since I was 7.”
“Then you should get it.” Alex told her. “Peter is my ‘Mark’. We’re best friends and nothing will ever change that.”
Alex’s mom smiled and nodded, but she knew the truth. Even if her daughter didn’t. She could see it in Alex’s eyes. How she looked at Peter and smiled at him and how, no matter who was in the room, her eyes would always land on him and no-one else. She just wanted her daughter to be happy. Maybe find a husband? Give her a few grandkids? She was all for being alone if you're happy, but she knew her daughter. She was in love with Peter and when Alex would eventually realize, she was worried it might be a little too late.
“Okay, I think this is done.” Alex held up her decorated cookie and it looked…awful.
Her mom laughed and moved to her side. “Come here, let me show you.”
A few hours later, Alex got into her car and drove back home. Upon entering her apartment, Alex looked around. Someone was here.
“Hello?” She called out after she removed her coat and placed her keys at the side of the door. From under the small table, she took out her side-arm and made her way through her apartment.
“Hello?!” She called out again. And then she heard it.
“Ouch.”
Peter had banged his head on the underside of the kitchen counter. Alex gave a sigh of relief and moved back to place her side-arm back into its safe.
“Peter,”
“Hey,” He smiled a little sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. Alex sighed and moved towards her freezer before taking out the peas and holding them to the back of his head.
“I thought you had superpowers that stopped you from doing that.”
“So did I.” He smiled a little, placing his own hand over hers to hold the bag to his head.
“What are you doing here?” She smiled.
They were speaking a little quieter now, standing in front of one another. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Alex now looked around. Most of her apartment was dark, so Peter picked up the remote and handed it to her. She removed her hand from the back of his head and he placed the peas down to watch her type in the code he gave her.
“Type, 25/12.”
“25 12.” Alex said aloud and Peter smiled as he watched her light up, both figuratively and literally.
“Oh, Peter.”
“I know we said we’d decorate together but with you getting pulled in for missions, I didn’t know if you’d have time so I-” She was only half listening to him. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
Alex moved around her apartment, admiring all the lights and decorations. “Click the silver button at the bottom.”
Alex did and the lights dimmed, almost resembling snow. “Peter, I can’t believe you did this.”
“Anything for you.”
Alex turned around and found Peter behind her and her first thought was I love you. She’d found herself thinking that a little more often these days. She always thought about it, but recently it had been meaning more than just friends.
“Thank you, Peter. I mean it.” And then it hit her. “Oh, I have something for you, too.”
Rushing back into the kitchen, she picked up the tub her mother had given her. “Open it.”
“Christmas cookies.”
“Freshly baked.” Alex smiled.
Peter took one from the box and bit into it. “I can’t believe you still refuse to give me the recipe. These are amazing!”
“Why, thank you.” Alex smiled. “So, what movie are we watching?”
“There is a selection on the table. You pick.”
Alex moved around him and found three DVDs on the table. “Oh! This one!”
“Muppets Christmas Carol it is.”
Soon, the pair sat down beside one another and pressed play. The pair sang along to each song that came on and eventually, it came to Christmas Past.
“This always scared me.”
“Are you kidding? It still scares me.” Alex added. “Like, can you imagine if you woke up to that floating around your room at night. And it’s a ghost so it’s not like it can die twice.”
The movie continued and just as Scrooge made his way with the final ghost to Bob Crachit’s house, Peter placed his arm around Alex. He didn’t have to look to know that she was crying.
Peter held her closer as the movie got a little darker, and wiped her cheeks with his thumb.
…beg you to share my days…hold you close in a thankful heart.
“See, Tiny Tim’s okay.” Peter smiled.
As the credits rolled, the pair stayed in their position on the sofa. Peter had his legs stretched out and Alex cuddled against his chest.
Eventually, the room settled and all that was left was the lights glowing softly around them.
“Tony’s got that Christmas gala next week.” Peter mentioned. “Would you want to go with me? Apparently we all need a plus one and I was thinking you might want to-”
Alex moved her head so she was looking at him. “I’d love to.”
Peter placed a soft kiss on her forehead before the pair lay down again. If only they could stay like this forever. I’m in love with you, Peter thinks. If only I could finally tell you.
Every day he’d wake up and think Today’s the day. Today’s the day I finally tell you! But then…Not the right time.
“Hey, look.” Peter said as he looked out of the window beside them. “It’s snowing. Alex-”
But Alex didn’t move. Instead, she remained asleep on his chest. Peter was thankful no-one else was there or else they would be able to tell from a million miles away that he was blushing with love.
Peter was careful as he moved, making sure she wouldn’t stir awake. Not that much could. Once Alex fell asleep, it was deep or nothing at all. Peter quietly moved around her apartment, tidying everything up before going into her room and moving back her covers so it would be easier to help her into bed.
Then, picking her up from the sofa, carried her into her bedroom.
“Peter?” She asked.
“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” She wouldn’t remember waking up in the morning.
“Stay with me?”
Peter looked at her sleeping face. Maybe she thought he was somebody else.
She reached out for his hand, “Peter, please stay.”
After a moment, he smiled and whispered; “Okay. Just give me a minute.”
He already had some old clothes in her apartment. With the amount of times he had slept over, he’d be surprised if he didn’t have clothes at her place. And only now did he realize that she was wearing one of his shirts. It only made him fall harder for her.
10 minutes later, Peter pulled back the covers on the other side of her bed and slipped in beside her.
Alex rolled over and faced Peter. She was still tired, but a little awake now. Just enough for her to know that this wasn’t another dream. “Is this okay?” Peter asked her.
She took hold of his hand beneath the covers. “It’s okay.”
Peter smiled and placed another soft kiss to the top of her head and the pair found themselves a little closer, just like before Alex fell asleep.
I’m in love with you, They both think. I love you.
As the sun spilled in, Alex woke up to find Peter still beside her. Neither one of them moved in the night, too comfortable to leave their positions.
Peter woke to the soft sound of Alex’s laugh, “Good morning.”
Peter smiled. “G'Morning.”
Moving his hand, he pushed the few strands of hair from her face so he could see her more clearly, tucking the loose strands behind her ear.
Only, as they lay there together, Peter’s thoughts seemed to take over. With his hand beside her face, he leaned up a little to be over her. It felt like forever and a lifetime had passed by the time he got close enough to kiss her.
“Can-” Peter swallowed. “Can I kiss you?”
Alex tried her best to hide her smile as she gave a subtle nod. Peter moved in slowly, leaving enough time for her to put an end to it before it finally happened.
Peter caught Alex’s lips on his own and it was wonderful.
Alex’s hand came to his side of his own face to try and pull him closer. The kiss only deepened as a result.
Peter removed his hand from her cheek and slid it around her waist.
After a few moments, Alex found herself stradling Peter’s lap as he raised himself so he was sat up.
Pushing the hair from her face, the pair broke apart from their kissing and held their heads against each other’s.
“I need to tell you something, Peter.”
But Peter couldn’t wait. If he didn’t tell her now, he might never get another chance.
“I’m in love with you, Alex.” Alex remained silent whilst he continued. “Maybe I should have told you sooner, or I shouldn’t have told you but if I don’t tell you now I think I might explode.”
Alex smiled and quickly pulled Peter in for a kiss.
“So…is that…?”
Alex nodded and smiled. “I’m in love with you, too.”
“Are you sure?”
Alex let out a small laugh. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Peter smiled. “Good, just checking.”
Alex laughed again, holding his face. “You’re an idiot.”
The pair smiled as she kissed him again, placing as much love and passion into it as she could. She couldn’t think of any other way to prove it to him right now, but right now, her head was in the clouds. She had known she was in love for a while now, but this was it. He was it. Peter was hers and she was his and there was no stopping them now.
#Peter parker#peter parker spiderman#Fluff#Peter parker fluff#Kissing#tom holland#MCU#Peter parker x oc#Peter parker x female oc#Peter parker x fe!oc#Peter parker x fe!reader#love#mutual pining#kissing#Tony Stark#captain america#soft fluff#peter parker AU#peter parker x reader#falling in love#Christmas Movies and Kisses#muppets christmas carol#cuddling#forehead kisses#touching foreheads#marvel#marvel x oc#christmas#christmas theme#christmas fluff
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may or may not be working on a small drabble of sorts for peter parker and painter!reader. if i were, this would be a sneak peek.
You had asked Peter to do you this favor last minute, you honestly didn’t even think he’d agree. Here you were though, Peter sitting on a chair in your dorm room, you across from him. The situation was simple really. Your art teacher had assigned everyone to paint a modern subject in a way that’s inspired by a historical time period. Your subjects could be animals, things, whatever you wanted as long as they met her requirements. At first you’d asked Gwen, seeing her as a good model for the painting but it didn’t work out. Her schedule was filled with babysitting and study halls, she didn’t have the time to pose for a painting. After that you’d asked your friend Jace who’d laughed after hearing your suggestion of him being painted. Peter was a last resort of sorts. He was one of the only people who you talked to that wasn’t busy this weekend.
It’s not very complicated I swear. You would basically just need to sit and look pretty for a day, two at most.
Sounds good to me.
•
this is based off of the gif of andrew garfield but there won’t really be anything stopping you from imagining whichever peter you’d like! :)
#peter parker x reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker x you#peter parker#andrew garfield#drabble#painter!reader#tom holland#tobey maguire#andrew garfield x reader#friends to lovers#mutual pining#kinda
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DON’T WISH ME WELL
one night together can change everything. for better or worse. inspired by ‘don’t wish me well’ by solange.
tom holland x fem!reader
tw: angst, temporary unrequited love
masterlist
“and i’m going all the way
but i’ll leave on the lights for you
i’m going all the way
and now you’re almost out of view”
YOU NOTICE IT FROM ACROSS THE TABLE: his wide-eyed stare under the dim tungsten glow. The glistening of his irises draws you close. You’re weak but brave, choosing to hold the weight of his gaze for a moment, only for him to glance away meekly. Bashful, he attempts to busy himself with the straw in his glass. The warmth creeping up your neck isn’t visible, but you hate that it’s there in the first place.
Haz and Harry ease the spindling tension between you and Tom, their brash British voices deepened by inebriation. It makes you laugh a little more and think about the boy sitting across from you a little less. You catch his eyes on you in your peripherals but can’t muster the courage to tilt your head to face him. He hasn’t said much all night--not at the restaurant and not at the pub.
“Are you alright?” It’s a stupid question, but you owe it to him to ask.
Your inquisition remedies his silence, “Yeah, I’m alright. Why d’you ask?”
“No reason.” You know why.
Tom nods with pursed lips, taking a sip of his drink and resuming his vow of dissociation. The other boys are nearly blacked-out after multiple rounds of beers and whiskeys. You usher them out of the pub and into their respective cabs. Tom lingers next to you, waiting until the cars are a comfortable distance away before speaking to you.
“Do you wanna come back to my apartment?” He wrings his hands together, teeth gnawing on the flesh of his lower lip.
Your laugh is marked with wariness. “And do what?” The message is clear. Tom pushes forward anyway.
“I don’t know. Watch a movie?” He chuckles, “We’re friends. Friends watch movies.”
“Do they? Do we?”
“Sure, we do.”
“they say i’ve changed
what a pity if i stayed the same”
You huff, “I’m tired, Tom.”
“You’re such a liar.” He rasps, head falling into the cradle of his palms. “I thought you wanted to put it past us.”
You pivot on your heel to walk the three blocks to your apartment. “I don’t think we should see each other so often.”
“(Y/N).” Tom pleads, following your quickened pace with determination. “Don’t you think you’re being a little irrational?”
Halt. “Me? Really? I’m the irrational one?”
“Yes.” He states matter-of-factly. “Just because we…slept together… doesn’t mean you have to throw away years of friendship. I still love you and care about you. C’mon, (Y/N).”
“I don’t think we should hang out anymore.” You repeat once more, this time more firm with less room for negotiation. “At least, not while we’re alone.”
“Why? Is it because you’re afraid of what you’ll do?” The words ‘with me’ are implied, but he saves you the frustration.
“No.” You mutter, head hung low. You can’t even convince yourself that your words are truthful, let alone Tom.
You walk forward; he follows closely behind until you spot the entrance to your building. The brassy twist of the key in the lock fills the atmosphere, and you have to choose whether to accept him inside or send him far away. You make a fatal mistake, a miscalculation in keeping yourself unchanged and your heart guarded: You look at him, eyes glassy and nose rogue-colored, bundled in a sweater and fleece coat. Tom’s already smiling because he knows he has you trapped.
“You can come in.” Shame on you.
Are the two of you destined to repeat history? With a fate so twisted and cruel, it’s almost as though you can’t help yourself. The thought is comforting; blame it on passionate impulse rather than conscious decision. Separation should subdue the unnatural burning you feel for the boy who’s been no more than a best friend for the past three years. Tom feels it without restraint, something so admirable that you can’t bring yourself to do. It’s cowardly, really. And in a way, he’ll always be more deserving than you because of it.
The elevator suffocates you. There are not enough intricacies to distract yourself with, so you succumb to the awkward eye contact with Tom, finally relaxing the tautness in his neck. His posture is stiff until he’s passed the threshold of your apartment door. He grants you space, quietly resigning to your couch as you walk through the kitchen.
“I’m gonna go change.” You announce from the other side of your living room. You don’t bother with formalities or niceties. Believe it or not, before the consequential night that altered your relationship, Tom spent more time in your home than he did his own. You fail to remind yourself that the two of you are salvageable, it wasn’t always like this, and it doesn’t have to be.
Tom bites his tongue, the cheeky phrase ‘Can I come?’ almost slipping past the edge of his teeth. While you wish to be unchanged, he hopes to evolve into a proper relationship with you. He wants to love you all the ways he can without you avoiding him for an entire calendar year.
You return in familiar attire: cotton shorts and Tom’s old Brooklyn Projects shirt. If you were aware, you definitely wouldn’t have intended to wear it with him around. But his heart swells seeing you in it nonetheless. Lowering yourself next to him on the couch cautiously, you glance quickly to the side, unsurprised to discover him watching you with evident tenderness.
“Movie?” You suggest, sinking further into the seat. Tom’s arm hovers over your shoulders but settles onto the back of the sofa in a moment of insecurity.
“Sure.” He smiles. “Are we alright?”
“I don’t know.” You confess. “What does that even mean anymore?”
“I just don’t want you to hate me anymore, that’s all.”
“I don’t hate you, Tom.”
He shrugs, “Sometimes it feels like you do.” A moment of silence passes. “Do you regret it?” He asks.
Your throat feels like it’s filled with molasses. “I-I want to.”
“But you don’t. You don’t regret it.”
“You can’t tell me what I do or don’t--”
“I don’t regret it.” Tom declares, hoping to coax a similar confession out of you. “I don’t regret it at all.”
The words hang in the air until they shatter. Glimmering shards of admission fall onto you like snow, coating your lashes with heaviness, prickling the skin of your arms until the sensation becomes unbearable. But, on the other hand, Tom looks as though he’s welcoming the first snowfall of December--cupped hands collecting the fragments for future reminiscing. He desperately craves the cooling in his interior, while the sudden change in temperature causes you to freeze.
“What are you trying to do, Tom?” You let out a choked sob, suddenly feeling so vulnerable and open.
“I’m laying it all out there,” He states flatly, “That way, you can’t run from it anymore.”
“cause when i say what i mean you ought to know
you got to know
i won’t let it go”
“I miss the old us--before all of this happened.”
“When are you going to admit that it’s partly your fault--all of this.” You glare at Tom, who merely raises his hands up in defense. “I’m serious. You wanted to sleep with me too. You didn’t care about the consequences of your actions at the time, and now that you’re dealing with the aftermath, suddenly it was out of your hands entirely?”
“Stop,” you plead, “Stop, stop, stop.” You rush to the safety of your bedroom, tainted with memories of your lustful night. Tom follows you inside, bracing the door open with his forearm.
“I want to be with you, (Y/N). I want to be more than best friends.” You can’t tune it out any longer. “And if you truly don’t want that, if you’re being honest with yourself and you really don’t want to be with me--I’ll leave you alone, forever.”
It’s your turn to beg for him, “What?”
“I can’t just be friends with you anymore. It’ll kill me, (Y/N).” Tears well in the corners of his eyes.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
“As much as I love you--and I love you more than anything else in the world--I won’t let myself dangle in this space between friendship and love. I know what I want. The real question is, do you? And are you willing to admit it?”
When did you start crying? Between uneven breaths, you taste the salt on your tongue, your body betraying the will of your mind. “I don’t like being rushed.” You whisper, surrendering your heart to the boy in front of you the only way you know how.
Tom chuckles lightly, “I know, I know.”
“I’m scared.” You cry, eyes shut as sobs wrack your wilting frame.
Tom welcomes you into the embrace of his arms, enveloping you tightly. You cling onto him, head buried into the crook of his neck. The soothing shh as he strokes your hair reminds you that he’s always been yours.
“Thank you, Tom.” You mutter.
To him, it sounds a lot like ‘I love you.’
let me know what you think! requests are open!
#tom holland#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland x fem!reader#tom holland x reader#tom holland angst#best friends to lovers#blurb#oneshot#tom holland oneshot#peter parker#fluff#pining#mutual pining#unrequited love#Spotify
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Spider Bite [Peter Parker x OC] - Chapter One.
Warnings: cursing, comic book violence, mutual pining, two idiots not knowing what to do about their emotions
The ringing of the school bell was loud and overbearing. Enough to set anyone's teeth on edge. She hated the sound of it. It felt as though it were nagging her, telling her who to be and what to do. He always claimed that she was being dramatic. She told him constantly that drama was what paid the bills.
That day was no different.
"What bills?" Peter Parker's eyebrow quirked as he looked at her.
"Oh ya know," Cadence twirled her hand in a dramatic fashion. One that they both thought she'd picked up from watching his adopted father. "Subscription fees, my candle hoard, drum kit expansions. All the things one needs to be a successful rockstar."
"Sure, Candy Cane," his grin could make the world stop and stare. He just hadn't realized it. "You know you're probably gonna end up getting evicted, right?"
"Please," she scoffed, her pencil tapping a light beat against her notebook. "Jimmy loves me! He thinks I have a natural talent."
"I don't think him saying you kept cats screeching at night was saying you have natural talent." Peter had stopped trying to point things out delicately a very long time ago. Cadence wasn't delicate. She was able to take whatever he said and carry it with her as though it weighed nothing. Whereas she could tell him something and the effect of it would last multiple weeks.
They'd always worked that way. Peter was the one who she protected, while he kept her from feeling alone. Or worse.
"Settle down," their Calc teacher sighed as he walked into the classroom.
The effect on Cadence was immediate. Her eyes glazed over, her pencil stilling in her hands. Peter swore that she would be asleep within ten minutes if she wasn't careful. Math and science had never exactly been her thing, well, paying attention to them hadn't been. She was more interested in the finer things in life. Music and how it fed the soul.
Peter was certain that she was going to get expelled if she wasn't careful. Midtown High was known for being a school for the academically gifted. Cadence had shone on the entrance exams, but ever since coming to the school, she'd been fading. Whatever light they had originally seen was beginning to become an ember. One that he wasn't sure he could fan into a flame. But Cadence wouldn't let him help her. She wouldn't let anyone help her.
As their teacher began to discuss new theories and showing them how they could use them in a real-world setting, Cadence's pencil began to tap gently against the desk. No one but Peter even noticed it. She had known that she'd be able to get away with it. She always did. Always managed to show off her ability without ever getting herself into trouble.
Cadence knew that Peter wondered how she did it. How she managed to keep herself out of trouble when most of the time their teachers would yell at anyone who was a disruption. It was just because no one thought twice about her. She didn't actually do anything to get into trouble, she was just sort of there.
Although, if anyone was to find out what she did when she wasn't in school, she'd be in worlds of trouble.
After all, vigilante justice was illegal.
She doubted even Peter's adopted father could get her out of trouble, even if he paid for the world's best lawyer and made sure she had the best defense. She knew he'd do it. Anything for Peter. Anything to keep that boy from hurting more than he already did.
Peter nudged her gently in the ribs, a signal that the teacher had started asking questions. The pair had multiple signals for multiple things. Including pizza day in the cafeteria. Cadence had deemed it necessary, even if she knew that it wasn't. It was all just another way to be damn certain that Peter Parker would be a mainstay in her life. No matter what.
She came out of her stupor, albeit fighting to fall back into it. She managed it just in time, as Peter had been asked the answer to a question that made absolutely no sense to her. But of course he got it right without a second of thinking. He had always been the brains of their operation. She was certain that he was the only reason that she had yet to fail out. That and the fact that she was determined not to leave him behind.
The thought of being without Peter Parker was enough to make her sick.
The pair had met nearly nine years ago. They'd been seven years old and so eager to make friends with the first person they met. Peter had introduced himself, Cadence had said his name was stupid. He had told her hers was worse. The pair had been nearly inseparable ever since.
But sleepovers and staying on the phone until three am on a school night had ended during their freshman year of high school. Once her dad had been shot, she had thought that everything was falling apart. She'd pulled away from everyone and everything that she possibly could. Peter had clung to her as though that would fix whatever had broken inside of her.
She had clung to him like he was the only thing that kept her breathing.
But that didn't mean the two friends hadn't been hurt by the experience. It hadn't helped when he had started acting odd towards her after a field trip. She had always wondered if he had somehow figured out what she had been planning to do during that field trip. If he knew that she had chickened out. She wondered if his squirrely attitude had been because he was disappointed or if he was just mad at her.
They'd managed to get over their awkwardness during their sophomore year. They would finish it out the best of friends, like every other year. She knew that that little snag in their friendship wouldn't affect anything in the long-run. Even if she still had not told him everything.
The ringing of the bell brought her out of her thoughts.
"You coming over? Dad doesn't get off till like midnight." Cadence packed her stuff away with expert efficiency.
"Uh, no." Peter at least had the decency to look disappointed with himself. "Tony wants me to help in the lab."
Peter never called his adopted father 'dad'. She thought it was interesting but she had never commented on it. It wasn't her business, nor was anything to do with their relationship. It was between them and probably Peter's therapist.
"Oh. You can still come over whenever. Dad gave me pizza money. I was thinking pizza, movie, maybe a few levels of Lego Star Wars?" Cadence and Peter headed out of the classroom together. The sight so normal that no one even thought about it.
"C'mon, Cads," Peter groaned. "You know I'd rather be doing that. But this is really cool too! I'm sure Tony would let you come if you wanted to."
"Am I even allowed in the lab?"
"Daisy is." Peter grinned as he spoke about his sister. "She doesn't even get science."
Daisy Stark had always been an enigma to Cadence. She was the only one of Tony's kids that was biological and yet, she hadn't seemed to inherit her family's gift for science. The girl was a musician, just like Cadence, but she was normally strung out on some sort of high-end drug or deep within an alcohol binge. That had never stopped Peter from caring about her though. He was more protective of Daisy than he was of anyone.
Cadence was just waiting for Daisy to do something that would hurt Peter. She knew it was wrong of her to expect it, but she had always seen through the act that Tony and Peter seemed to buy. Daisy didn't care who she hurt. She was too busy searching for her next high.
"Oh yeah, so I'd be hanging out with the entire Stark family?"
"I mean, no? Maybe? I don't know. But it'll be more fun if you're there."
"I'm gonna take a raincheck on that," Cadence sighed. While they had managed to patch up their friendship, it seemed like they never had time for each other anymore.
"Caddie!" A voice came from behind them. Loud, clear, bell-like.
The pixie of a girl known as Fiona Winters came barreling down towards the two of them. Her eyes were bright, her hair a bright shade of blue that was definitely not dress code appropriate.
"Hey, Fi," Peter waved at her before turning his attention to his locker. Fiona had been brought into his life the moment he had befriended Cadence. While he and Cadence were closer than they had any right to be, the girls were like sisters. It was almost scary how well they knew each other.
"Hey, Petey," Fiona did not give him her full attention. Instead she took Cadence by the arm, tugging as hard as she could. It wasn't hard enough to do anything more than make Cadence giggle. "I'm stealing her from you. Toodles!"
"Call me tonight, Cads!" Peter called as the two girls rushed off.
Cadence was grateful that Peter would be unable to see the blush that had suddenly graced her features. She wasn't sure she could handle him teasing her about it. He wouldn't get why she was blushing, but she was certain he would make assumptions that she didn't want to think about.
"What's the rush, Fi?" She nearly tripped over her own feet as the shorter girl dragged her towards a set of stairs that students weren't allowed to use.
The girls had found the space last year. A large sub-basement that the school had left abandoned. It had taken them months to get it cleaned up, which had meant breaking into the school in the middle of the summer in order to work. But eventually they had got it up and running. Thanks to Fiona's parents, they had managed to scrape together three large computer monitors and a few crafting tables. Her parents didn't know what the girls were up to, but they had never said a word about footing the bill when it came to Fiona's hobbies.
"Glo and I just finished it! It looks absolutely stunning and you've gotta try it on now!" Fiona only ever sounded this excited when it came to one thing. Her suit.
"Finally!" Cadence grinned as she tossed her bag into the empty seat by the computer monitors.
Gloria didn't bother to look up from the wires that she was working on. That was far too normal when it came to Gloria. The girl didn't often like to be interrupted in her work. She often kept her work in her apartment. Besides, Cadence didn't think that Gloria liked her very much. Even if she had sometimes forced her company on the girl. It didn't seem quite fair really.
Cadence did not think of Gloria's dislike as she headed over to the mannequin standing just behind the table on the far left. The table was Fiona's zone and was littered with various fabrics and other materials that Cadence didn't know what were for.
"It's beautiful," she breathed out as she drank in the sight of her suit. The legs of the suit were black and led up to the design of a spider on the back, with the legs wrapping around the torso. The rest of the suit was white, except for the inside of the hood which was an electric shade of blue with pink webs. The pink and blue were on various other pieces of the suit, including on the arms and her ribcage. She would pair it with a pair of worn out black Converse. But it was perfect.
"We added a communication system in the mask. It'll be undetectable. Just tap on your left ear three times when you want to turn it off. Although, if you ever do turn it off, I'll be making sure to send emergency to your last location." Fiona said with a grin.
"Yeah, I got it. Comms on." The rule had been in place from the beginning. She understood it, to a point. She wasn't powered. She was fucked if she got into any actual trouble out there. She'd just been very, very lucky up to now. Normally, she had someone looking out for her.
Spider-Man always seemed to show up when she was about to die.
"Anything else fun?"
"The blue on your ribs is extra padding, we thought it would be handy after last time you fought Rhino." Cadence winced at the memory. "Glo's also reupped your drumsticks, they're in your bag. Oh and we're finally getting somewhere with web fluid!"
"Ugh," Cadence hated to sound ungrateful but the Spider theme hadn't exactly been her idea.
"It's branding, Caddie!" Fiona had made this point several times. "Besides, it'll cut down on the time it takes to get to each scene if you can just swing there. Spidey's beaten you three times this week."
"Don't remind me," Cadence huffed. She stepped forward, running her fingers against the material. It felt soft under her touch, flexible. But she knew that Fiona had been working on fabric prototypes for months. For all she knew, the material was bulletproof or something.
"Don't rely too much on the suit," Fiona said as though she had read her mind. "I haven't worked out all the kinks with the bulletproof suit. It's still way too bulky. But this one should be more resilient to normal wear and tear. And I think it'll hold up against Rhino's horn. Just be careful with the mask. We can't have it falling off. Again."
"That was one time."
"Yeah, and now the police know you're blonde." Fiona looked far too worried. "They're hunting you, Caddie. They don't care that you're helping people. And sometimes it feels like you don't care about that at all."
She didn't say anything. Fiona was right. Cadence wasn't afraid of getting caught. She knew that it would more than likely break her father's heart, not to mention her Uncle Charles would murder her. But this was her life. This was her calling. She'd been brought into this world with vengeance already in her heart.
If she couldn't bring herself to justice, she would bring down every other beast in this city.
"You got a message," Gloria spoke up for the first time. She was good at that. Speaking to break up the tension when Fiona and Cadence were close to getting into a fight over anything. Most of the time about Cadence being careless.
"What?" Cadence's brow furrowed. "How do we even get messages? I thought no one knew who I was or where base even is."
"I doubt Captain America has a problem finding that sort of information." Gloria didn't even bother to look at Cadence as she dropped the biggest piece of news that she'd ever heard.
"Captain America?" Cadence had to grip onto Fiona's work table to keep herself up. "Like the guy whose videos we watch daily? Like saved New York? Like the Avenger? Captain fucking America?"
"Yes."
Cadence's head felt as though it had been filled with a strange buzzing. As though a billion bees had decided to take up home within her skull. She didn't know if the sound was annoying or if it was just her mind playing tricks on her. That or she was about to pass out. She didn't really know.
"Well, what did Captain America want?" She asked after taking about twenty seconds to calm herself down.
"He wants to meet with you at ten pm tonight. Statue of Liberty. Be in your suit." Gloria recited the message as though it were the most boring thing in the world. As though it was anything other than Cadence's whole future.
Was she being recruited to the Avengers? Had they finally realized that having two women on the team was beyond stupid? Were they going to let her be one of them? She could already see herself in a Stark Tech suit. She nearly salivated at the thought of all the fun tools that she'd get to use. Gloria and Fiona would have just as much fun working alongside the Avengers. She was certain of it.
She wanted to tell Peter. Wanted to laugh with him and have him congratulate her. But that wouldn't happen. Peter couldn't know about any of this. It was bad enough that the others did. She needed a team, she always had.
It just sucked that Peter couldn't be part of it.
Given how close Peter already was to the world of superheroes, she didn't want to bring him farther in. He'd already nearly lost his sister. His father had nearly been killed more times than either of them could count. Which was saying something considering that Peter was a certifiable math genius. One day, that same dark cloud would come for Peter Parker. Cadence would fight like hell to make sure that he survived.
Cadence was Peter's protector. She'd taken on that role long before either of them could ever imagine what it would one day mean. She had never been angry about it. She never would be.
"What do you think this is about?" Cadence asked, coming back down to the world around her.
"Who knows," Gloria huffed, her fingers twitching slightly. She was just as anxious about this as Fiona and Cadence. "But it probably won't be anything good."
"Haven't either of you been keeping up on Avengers Chatter?" Fiona asked, one of her colorful eyebrows raising. They were pink that day, although Cadence swore they'd been blue the day before.
"You're the only one that cares, Winter," Gloria spat.
Fiona either didn't notice the rudeness or didn't care. Given how much time the girls spent together, it was more than likely the latter. "If either of you cared about it, you would've heard about the Accords. Apparently, the government wants to control superheroes and vigilantes."
A chill went down Cadence's spine. She didn't even like being told when to go to bed. How would she handle being told when she could help people and when she had to stand down? The thought of it made her sick.
"Let me guess, Mr. America is all for it?" Gloria had a known dislike of most of the Avengers. Cadence just hadn't figured out why.
"Haha," Fiona looked as though she were debating stabbing Gloria with one of her sewing needles. "No, actually. Cap seems to be as pissed about it as Caddie."
"I haven't even said anything!" Cadence hated how easy she was to read. It felt as though Fiona knew everything about it. As though she could never hide a single secret from the girl. It was terrifying in all honesty.
"Oh it's radiating off of you. You're obviously annoyed about the idea of someone controlling you." Fiona's smile was almost terrifying. Cadence felt as though the seamstress was staring into her soul. "Besides Peter, of course."
"Shut up, Fi." They had this fight nearly once a week. The girls were certain that Cadence was in over her head.
Anyone with eyes could have seen how she felt for her best friend. Anyone except him. Peter Parker was oblivious to Cadence's feelings. She wanted it to stay that way. No matter what happened, their relationship would change the moment he found out. She couldn't take the possibility of losing him. Not when he had been the one constant in her life.
Cadence would lose herself if it meant keeping Peter Parker in her life. She would do anything it took in order to keep him.
Fiona's eyes twinkled as though she wanted to say more.
"C'mon, I need to get ready for patrol. Besides, I've got some ideas about the next suit to run past you both." Sure she had just gotten the newest model, but there were always ideas. Ideas to be better and better. Ideas that would get her noticed by the big boys, ideas that would turn her into an aVENGER.
The three girls spent nearly an hour getting Cadence suited up and her gear situated. All the while, Cadence spoke about how she wanted to add some sort of electricity into the suit itself. Someway to charge the drumsticks so she wouldn't have to worry about them running out of juice just before a fight. It had happened a few too many times.
"I'll see you two later. Don't wait up!" She grinned as she began to rush out of the hideout, using another exit that the three had built with the help of some of Gloria's more ... Explodey inventions.
"Cads! Be safe!" Fiona called after her. "And comms on!"
Cadence was gone before Fiona could finish.
#cadence clarke#ghost spider#cadence x peter#peter parker x oc#mcu peter parker#peter parker#tom holland peter parker#michelle jones x oc#ned leeds x oc#tony stark#steve rogers#lowkey stevetony#dad!tony stark#peter stark#best friends to lovers#mutual pining#marvel oc#marvel cinematic universe
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Hi can I please request the prompt “They are good for each other,” for Tom Peter Parker. Thank you so much, your writing is good! 🥰
thank you for the sweet message!! i loved writing the fic, though i'm not sure how well it fits with the theme of the dialogue prompt. hopefully you enjoy it anyway!!
good 4 each other
peter parker x avenger! reader
loosely inspired by "good 4 u" by olivia rodrigo
summary: peter's the only person who really knows you, and vice versa. the one thing the two of you don't know about is each others' mutual feelings.
w/c: 3.1k
notes: looooots of fluff, smidge of angst (hurt/comfort), canon level violence, descriptions of wounds, allusions to sex (barely), swearing, peter and you care about each other too much bruh, mj tells it as it is
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
you were sitting on peter’s bed, your back pressed against the headboard, as peter listened to you rant intently with his chin on one hand.
“-and it’s like he never even met me, ‘cause now he’s off trapiezing around with this other girl and it’s been like, two weeks since we broke up—we were together for eight months! it’s like, holy shit, you could at least pretend that you cared about me at all.”
peter rolled over on his back and looked up at you with big, puppy dog eyes.
“don’t look at me like that. you know that i can never- ugh, what do you want, peter? you only look at me like that when you want something.”
it wasn’t true. peter looked at you with those sweet, adoring eyes all the time. you just never noticed. he looked at you like that when the two of you went web slinging and you’d laugh giddily after the landing. he looked at you like that when you did homework with him and brushed the hair out of your face, and peter could see your perfect face. he was looking at you like that right now, and he didn’t want anything. well…
“i don’t want anything, not really. i just want you to be happy,” he pouted.
you snorted. “that was so cheesy. i mean, obviously i’d love to be happy, but it’s like i can’t be happy if he’s happy, y’know?” you sighed. “you’re right, though. i’ve wasted too many tears on this asshole. i gotta move on at some point, right?”
peter took your hand in his, pulling you down until you were lying on your back next to him. “it’s okay to be sad. that’s what makes you so… well, i know being vulnerable is hard for you, and i’m proud that you’re letting yourself show your emotions. and i’m honored that you trust me enough to be vulnerable with me.”
peter turned so he was propped on his elbow and could get a proper view of your face. you were staring up at the ceiling, mouth pulled into a subtle frown.
“hey, look at me, would’ya?” peter cupped your cheek and turned your head gently. “you’re gonna be okay, i promise. everything heals with time. and however long it takes, i’mma be here for all of it, right?”
“right.” you exhaled deeply. peter could feel your cool breath on his skin. his heart warmed when he saw the sliver of a smile creep onto your face.
--
the two of you were eating lunch outside, on hammocks. well, you were on the hammock. peter had made his own with webs. the fresh air was nice until you realized neither of you had brought water or napkins, so when the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you had made started making your fingers all sticky and your mouth all dry, lunch was no longer fun.
“i really don’t want to get up right now,” you complained, right after complaing about how thirsty you were.
“hydrate or diedrate,” peter agreed seriously. “i guess we’re going with diedrate.”
you groaned, worming yourself deeper into the hammock. “wait!” you sat up. “hose!”
sam was watering wanda’s daffodil patch (he’d lost a bet and was now in charge of watering duty for the next week) not too far from where you and peter were resting.
peter knew what you were thinking immediately. “is that really a good idea?”
“it beats getting up.”
“so true.” peter cupped his hands around his mouth. “HEY SAM!”
sam made no indication that he heard him, so you tried. “SAM WILSON! OVER HERE!”
nothing. you and peter bellowed together. “SAM! SAM, TURN AROUND!”
finally, sam turned, hose in hand with water still lazily flowing, annoyed. “WHAT? CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?”
“WE NEED WATER. GIVE US YOUR HOSE, PLEASE. WE’LL, UH, FINISH WATERING FOR YOU.”
sam took a second to consider before sprinting down the hill, hose in hand, and tossing it to peter as soon as he was in a reasonable distance. evidently, he hadn’t stopped to consider that the water was still flowing, and it hit peter’s chest with a dull thud before tangling itself in peter’s web hammock.
the boy stared at the hose for a few long seconds, before picking it up and angling it at sam in vengeance. sam dodged, but it didn’t really matter. peter had been defeated. and by defeated, you meant that his loose white shirt had soaked through and was now translucent and clinging to his chest like a second skin.
it shouldn’t have been a big deal; you’d seen guys shirtless before. hell, you see bucky shirtless every time he trains. the man would take any excuse to strip.
so why was it different with peter? he jumped out of his hammock, shaking the water from his hair and grimacing at his damp shorts. “great. my boxers are wet too,” he grumbled.
you didn’t appreciate the thought of peter’s boxers. you also didn’t appreciate that peter decided to take his shirt off, pulling it from his back and bending forward as he slipped it off in that attractive odd way guys do.
“wow, at least take me on a date before you start taking off your clothes,” you joked to cover how flustered you actually were. good. now the both of you were flustered.
“okaaaay, the horny twenty-somethings are talking about fucking each other. i’m out.” sam saluted awkwardly and jogged away, leaving the two of you with the running hose and sexual tension.
“ha, that’s so- you know sam. always cracking jokes,” you forced out. “so… wanna try out that new brita filter?”
--
“what happened, kid?” steve’s worried Dad™ face was in full display as he watched peter limp off the elevator, clutching his abdomen. his spiderman suit, which had just been redesigned to withhold greater impact, still hadn’t managed to protect him, it seemed.
peter heard footsteps that he identified as yours rushing over. he’d hoped to keep this from you and prevent unnecessary worry. blearily, peter collapsed onto the nearest surface, which just so happened to be tony’s brand new, foreign-imported white leather couch.
you slid to your knees by peter’s side, brushing sweaty, matted curls off his forehead as steve panicked in the background, calling bruce to alert cho. as steve was beginning to call for tony, you jumped up and tackled his phone from him.
“don’t. don’t call tony. peter doesn’t need that right now, he doesn’t need a scolding. tony can be pissed another time, i just- i’ve got it under control, okay?”
steve nodded wordlessly. you didn’t spare him another second before turning towards peter, cooing as you brushed your thumb over peter’s cheek. he winced as you touched a small cut.
“shit, okay,” you murmured, giving peter’s body a once over. “steve, go get me an emergency kit,” you yelled over your shoulder. when you heard no movement, you followed up with a “now!”
peter’s eyelids flickered between consciousness, and he could hear your soft voice speaking indistinguishably to him. whatever you were saying, it must’ve been something sad, because even in his delirious state, he could see tears welling in your eyes. he immediately knew he hated whoever or whatever had made you cry. he never wanted to see you cry.
you rubbed your eyes with your sleeve, sniffling loudly a few times before you let out a big exhale to ground yourself. you were talking under your breath so that peter couldn’t hear, but he imagined it couldn’t be anything good. you often put up a front of calmness and collectedness, but peter could see through it easily. your jaw was too tight, your eyes were darting around the room, and your breathing was too erratic.
when steve came back, practically sprinting, he tossed the kit at you. in one smooth motion, you caught it, set it down on the ground, and clicked it open. you’d patched up peter more times than he could count.
“stay awake for me, pete. please, keep your eyes open?” you pleaded, trying to smile for him. “c’mon baby, just look at me,.” you murmured as you ripped open a pack of wet wipes and began the arduous process of rubbing off the dried blood and dirt from his face. you’d always been gentle with him, like nobody else had. you never scrubbed impatiently or disinfected without a warning; even in pain, you’d do anything to lessen it.
“i- i have to take off your suit. is that okay? i know we’re not in your room right now, but unless you wanna walk, ‘cause i don’t think i can carry you, we’re gonna be stuck here.”
peter hummed in affirmation. his voice was hoarse and his throat tightened until it felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“water, please,” he croaked, licking his cracked lips to no avail.
your eyes widened. “water! i completely forgot, give me one second pete-” you’d returned to his side less than a minute later with a glass of water and a straw. you were always so thoughtful; you gave him a straw so he could drink with greater ease.
“okay, i’m going to take off your suit now,” you said, voice wavering. peter didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. peter winced as you pressed down on the spider emblem on his chest to loosen his suit, and he shivered when your cold fingers and the cool air hit his bare skin.
you gasped in terror as you recognized the familiar tear of a serrated knife. “you were stabbed?” you squeezed your eyes together and peter licked his lips again, trying to rid the dryness in his mouth so he could speak.
“you should see… the other guy,” he chuckled weakly. you glared at him. your eyes flickered to his lips. were you going to kiss him? he hoped yes. a kiss to make him feel better.
“your lips are chapped,” you commented. pulling your own chapstick out, you rubbed it on your fingertip until a good amount had collected and dabbed it on his lips. you’d done that before, claiming that the stick would tug at his skin but that the warmth from your hands would make the application smoother. it was all the little things.
“where the fuck is cho?” you tsked as you dug through the kit. you wiped the grime off his torso, taking care not to wander too far down, and you flinched each time peter hissed in pain. neither of you spoke; silence laid heavy over the thick air with the exception of the occasional sniffle or moan. though peter, for the most part, was silent, the both of you were fully aware that he was only doing so for your benefit, knowing you’d be more upset if you could hear the pain he was in.
when cho and banner finally showed up, panting and jittery, you chastised them before letting them see peter. as they raised peter onto a stretcher and began with their medical jargon, you brushed your hand over peter’s forehead once more, tucking stray hairs behind his ears. peter’s eyes fluttered, and when you pressed a warm kiss to his forehead, he let himself drift into dreamless sleep.
--
you and wanda were sitting inside a pillow fort she’d enchanted for stability, late at night. with the exception of peter, the two of you were the youngest avengers, and you found yourself having sleepovers with wanda whenever there was something personal to be discussed. secrets spread fast in the compound, but the two of you trusted each other.
“well, it’s pretty obvious he likes you,” wanda huffed, tired of repeating the same words to you.
“if he liked me, why would he keep brushing me off to hang out with mj and ned? don’t even get me started on mj—he spends more time with her than he does everyone in this tower combined. including me! i know they’re friends and i shouldn’t be jealous, blah blah blah, but i am.”
wanda rolled her eyes dramatically. “i’m going to lose my mind. how many nights have we spent talking about this? peter. is. so. in love. with you. i don’t believe in soulmates, but the two of you can literally read each others’ minds. and take it from me, because i can actually read minds.”
you sucked your teeth anxiously. “d’you really think so?”
“duh, why would i be telling you this if i didn’t?”
“good point.”
--
peter and mj were sitting at the kitchen table, homework long abandoned. aunt may had gone out and ned was helping his lola clean, which meant it was just peter and mj again. the two of them had been hanging out alone often recently. he felt bad; he hadn’t seen you nearly as often as he’d liked.
“you’re actually such an idiot,” mj bashed her head on the table, much to peter’s horror.
“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffed.
“oh my god. you could literally ask her to go dumpster diving with you and she’d say yes. just ask her out, dude. she’s a catch, and you know that. if you don’t make a move, someone else will.”
peter chewed his lower lip. “see, that’s exactly why i’m nervous! i know she’s a catch; she’s way out of my league. she could have anyone, so why would she go with me?”
“i’m so close to slapping your stupid, white boy face, but i’m not going to, because i don’t need you concussed when you’re trying to ask out the girl who is already in love with you, dingus.”
“dingus?” peter scoffed.
mj raised an eyebrow. “you are in no position to judge me, fool. this mutual pining thing has gone on for so long that i’m surprised neither of you have grown gray hairs yet.”
“okay, first of all, it’s one sided pining. second of all, she thinks my hair looks nice, thank you very much.”
mj slapped her forehead.
--
“you said this was a ‘simple heist!’” you shouted into your comm as you fended off buff cronies from some mob boss you weren’t expecting.
you could hear tony’s sigh from your earpiece. “yeah, well now i know it’s not. so stop fussing and start punching!”
“where is everyone?” peter’s voice was staticky, which was an immediate red flag. these comms were high tech and were taken care of before and after each mission. if peter’s comm had stopped working, something was wrong. seriously wrong.
“by the back exit! peter, where are you?” you grunted as you took a kick to the side. you hated to admit it, but you were severely outnumbered and outmatched. pulling a second knife from your thigh, you slowly backed up with two blades in each hand as you contemplated your next move.
the next backwards step you took brought you into the arms of a sturdy chest, and you screamed, flailing desperately. you raised one of your knives, planning on blindly stabbing your captor somewhere in the face, before you heard peter’s distressed voice.
“don’t stab me! it’s peter, woah-” peter held you tightly as he webbed the two of you off the ground to avoid a charging attacker. “are you okay?” he looked down at you, where your head was tucked into his neck.
“uh huh,” you mumbled, shocked. “actually, no, i’m not. what the fuck was that? why are you here?” you hissed, fingernails digging into his back as he swung out of range of the action.
“you needed help!” peter retorted, his arm tightening around your waist. “what, should i have just left you to die?”
“you were supposed to be getting the fucking- whatever it was with steve!” you hmphed.
“shipment logs, but whatever. i don’t give a damn about papers, i give a damn about you!” peter landed on the concrete roof of a building free from the fighting, and you could see the chaos that peter had pulled you away from.
“why are we here? we need to go back and help-”
peter grabbed you by the shoulders with a crazed look in his eyes that you’d never seen before. you gulped in anticipation.
“no, you have to listen to me. i thought- i thought i was gonna die, and all i could think about was you, and then i thought you were gonna die, and all i could think about was you, because i can only ever think about you. does that make sense? god, i don’t know- i’m in love with you, alright?” he shook your body. “i love you, and i’m so scared that i’ll lose you before i ever say it to you. so there, i said it. that’s it. we can go back now.” he moved into position to shoot a web.
“i- you little shit, get back here.” you tugged his bicep towards you until he stumbled backwards into your waiting arms. with more confidence than you’d ever exercised in your life, you grabbed both sides of his face with your hands and slammed your lips against his.
peter gasped into your mouth, lips slotting between yours in a clash of teeth and blood and tongue and gunpowder. it tasted like conflict and it tasted like peter.
“i hate you. god, i hate you—you’re so stupid! i love you too, you asshole!” you did a little happy dance which looked more like a very aggressive, furious dance with the way you were stomping your feet on the ground. “god, i love you! i love you to pieces, peter parker.”
--
natasha sat across from you and peter, who’d slumped into each others’ bodies the minute the quinjet took off. your head was tucked between peter’s shoulder with his head resting on yours, and one of your legs was tucked between peter’s open ones, so that the two of you were pulled flush to each others’ bodies. though natasha’s lips were dry and bleeding, she cracked a smile.
“they’re good for each other, aren’t they?” steve sat beside natasha, ankles crossed very politely.
natasha hummed. “he’s way better than that shithead boyfriend she used to have.”
tony, who had left to do his six step skincare routine in the quinjet bathroom, threw himself into a seat. “i was gonna go with ‘fucking finally,’ but both of your answers work too, i guess.”
steve smiled warmly and you and peter’s sleeping figures, breathing in sync. “you’d never think- they’re so different, but they make it work. they complete each other.”
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#peter parker x you#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x avenger!reader#peter parker x reader fluff#peter parker x reader angst#peter parker mutual pining#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker hurt comfort#peter parker comfort
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Arachnid Anxiety
You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.
Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))
Word Count: 2.4k
Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.
Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.
But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.
She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms.
“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you.
You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.
“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”
“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.
“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”
“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.
You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.
But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says.
No sugar-coating, ever.
But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him.
It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.
You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.
Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.
It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.
And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.
Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.
You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.
You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.
“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.
You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.
“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.
“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.
“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask.
You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.
“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.
“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”
"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."
"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one.
Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.
"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."
"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.
"Now you're getting it."
"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"
"You've lost me."
"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."
"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”
“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”
“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”
“But I–”
“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.
You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.
“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”
“I guess.”
“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”
“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity.
“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”
“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”
“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”
“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”
You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.
“Huh.”
“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs.
“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”
He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”
“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”
“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”
You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.
You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.
Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.
Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”
She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.
He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.
Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.
“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”
“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”
“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”
“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”
You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.
“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”
“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”
“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday.
Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#spiderverse#across the spider verse#spiderpunk x reader#spider punk x you#spider punk x reader#spiderpunk x you#spider verse#spider man#spiderman#atsv#atsv x reader#hobie x reader#hobart brown#spider man x reader#spiderman x you#spiderman x reader#spiderman atsv#atsv spoilers#across the spiderverse spoilers#spider verse spoilers#x reader#reader insert#female reader#hobie x you#spiderpunk fluff#spider punk fluff
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Let Me Help
Summary: On a mission with Miguel to stop a variant of Doc Ock, you accidentally inhale something you shouldn’t have. You actively try to ignore these burning desires raging through you. However when Miguel notices your odd behavior, he finally confronts you. A confrontation that leads to this thing you need most: him.
Word Count: ~6.6k
Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used)
Warnings: SMUT (sex pollen, fem!masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, oral (fem!receiving), doggy style, multiple orgasms, slight praise kink, voyeurism, cockwarming, switch!reader, switch!Miguel), smut with some feelings, unestablished relationship, mutual pining
MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY
The salty harbor water splashed against the algae covered docks of the warehouse district. Smog of the city filtered into the already cloudy night sky. The sea and city - cars and boat horns - clashed together in an odd cacophony. Your nose wrinkled as the sting of salt mixed with newly poured asphalt.
On top of a warehouse, you and Miguel stood side by side overlooking the massive, old and rundown, area. Another anomaly was plucked and dropped off in a universe where they shouldn’t be. The Spider-Man, Peter W. Parker, of this world was unfortunately and temporarily subdued by the anomaly, a variant of Doc Ock. Peter was completely paralyzed from his encounter and was resting back at HQ as a team tirelessly tried to work on an antidote for him.
“Be careful,” Miguel warned.
“Always am,” you smirked under your mask, before leaping off the building to search the west end of the docks.
Miguel scoffed. Yet, his eyes watched you intently as you landed on another building. You slipped inside one of the broken windows and disappeared from view.
He paused, hesitating for a second, then turned away.
Searching through your area, the anomaly wasn’t in the first building. Or the second. You hoped, sending out a small prayer to the universe he was in the last building. If not, maybe Miguel had more luck than you.
The last warehouse was filled with wrecked boats strewn up on lifts, scattered repair parts, and half broken shipping crates. Moving around, your footsteps were light, and unheard. Nothing creaked, and dust barely moved. You tried a few office doors only to find them locked, or rusted shut. Sighing, you knew of another way to enter and luckily they all lined the edge of the warehouse.
Outside once again, you carefully scaled the building approaching the first set of windows. Brown paper covered most of the dirty glass, yet one window had no covers. The paper was luckily torn back. Peering inside, it was a packed room.
A manager's office was reinvented. The desk was pushed to the far wall. Crates piled into the room, acting as other workstations. Old and battered scientific equipment, some even haphazardly thrown together, filled the desk and crates. Cracked glass - cups, beakers, and vials - were scattered about. Scraps of tarp were laid across the floor and hung from the walls as if for protection. A harsh pungent smell soon assaulted your nose. Your face scrunched up in disgust. Chemicals, any and all so it seemed, were carefully placed into rows on the floor and on top of crates. While vials lined a chipped wooden shelf, poorly screwed into the wall. Each one a different color, and labeled with a system you didn’t comprehend or care to understand.
It was crowded, an office turned into a makeshift lab.
Yet, your eyes fell back to the obvious man taking up the cramped space.
If you could call him that.
He was an experiment, a genetic splicing, gone wrong. He was a human on top while stormy blue grey tentacles were his legs. Strangely, he moved so easily. The appendages carried him with perfect posture, and also effortlessly reached for material around the homemade lab. As a tentacle slithered past your view, you quickly noted the tips had black barbs.
You carefully pushed on the window to thankfully find it unlocked. You crawled through and softly dropped in. But, he was somehow alerted to you.
He whipped around, beakers and vials with unknown liquid swayed in his hands. Massive goggles were strapped around his bulging inky black eyes. Tubes of water wrapped around the side of his neck over gills. A torn, stained lab coat hung off his bare torso. Yet, despite his somewhat menacing appearance, he cowarded at your presence. A whine, a bubbling of water, erupted from him.
You raised your hands, hoping to calm him, “Hey, hey, there’s no need to be scared. We’re just going to get you back home, okay?”
As if proving your point, he glitched. He groaned, leaning into a wooden crate. His massive eyes locked with yours. He violently shook his head. “No, I’m not going back.”
“I’m sorry, but you have to. If you don’t you’ll destroy yourself and possibly this universe.”
“No!” He immediately threw whatever vial he had in his hand.
You easily dodged it, but it splattered into the wall behind your head. A sickly sweet aroma filled your nose. You coughed, waving it away. While you were distracted, he fled. He moved with surprising agility, and squeezed through a small air vent.
“Shit.” You coughed one last time. You pressed your watch, calling Miguel. Clearing your throat, you said, “Miguel, I found him. Far west end of the docks, and he’s on the move.”
“Understood.”
You stepped forward and the world tilted. You quickly stumbled into the crates. You grunted as a dull ache rolled through you. Clenching your jaw, you shoved down the pain.
Not now. We will deal with this later.
You dove through the window to catch Doc Ock who was scrambling down an alleyway. His tentacles made a distinct ‘thwap’ as he ran away. For a moment, your vision blurred. Your grip loosened as you slid down a few inches down the brick wall. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head. Everything cleared again. Ignoring the obvious signs, you fired a web and swung down into the alley.
Miguel, however, beat you to it.
Landing in the alleyway, Miguel stood over the now unconscious Doc Ock. The red glowing webs secured around his torso and tentacles. You let out a silent thanks.
Miguel turned around, and approached you. “Are you okay?”
His voice reverberated throughout your body. Your heart leapt into your throat. You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “Yeah, I’m good.”
His eyes trailed over you. You were breathing heavily, why? Did the two of you fight? How did this anomaly slip past you?
“Ready?” You asked, already opening up a portal.
“Yeah,” he muttered, grabbing the anomaly.
After dropping off the anomaly at HQ, you said your quickest farewells and practically ran back home to your universe, to your apartment. Your chest started to constrict horribly when Miguel was nearby. It wasn’t the giddy childhood crush you were already accustomed too, but this deep heart wrenching ache of desire.
It frightened you.
You had to get away from him.
Returning home, you found your city basking in the moonlight. Neon signs and billboards flickered in the distance. And the usual rush of cars quieted down just enough for most of the city to fall asleep. However, sleep would not come tonight for you.
You tossed and turned endlessly. Your heart raced, like a hummingbird in flight trapped in a cage. Sweat beaded over your forehead. The dull ache from before started to move farther south of your body. You groaned and arched your back.
What … what the hell is this?
You rolled over, burying your face into the pillow.
We’re fine. It’s fine. It’ll pass.
It didn’t.
The moon, with its siblings of stars, fell and the soon burning and bright sun rose over the horizon. Yet, these sensations never wavered. Dare you say, they intensified. Your sheets were kicked off the bed, pillows tossed across the floor in fits of rage, and your clothes skewed and damped with sweat.
Fuck.
Your body ached horribly.
Hot flashes surged through you in intense waves. You groaned, curling into a tight ball. However, it was the growing heat between your legs that was becoming unbearable. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together. The minimal friction, basically nothing, caused you to moan.
“Fuck,” you whimpered.
Shower. A cold shower might help.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. You turned on the show to the coolest, and still comfortable, temperature. This should help, hopefully. Stripping out of your sweaty clothes, you hopped in. You hissed slightly. The water was a shock to your overheated, clammy skin. Pressing your palms into the shower wall, you dunked your head under the water like a poorly done baptism. You needed to cleanse yourself and your unholy thoughts.
You forced yourself to stay there. You gritted your teeth, and squeezed your eyes shut. The water pounded over you. Each drop were needles: sharp, quick, and irksome. But, standing under the water, you were still unbelievably hot, still painfully aroused.
Screw it.
One hand skimmed down your body between your legs. One swipe over your soaking folds and your knees nearly buckled. Still holding yourself up with one hand, and hunched under the running water, you slowly dipped your fingers inside yourself.
And immediately, his face appeared behind your closed eyes.
You could easily conjure up a scenario, and you happily indulged in your fantasy.
He was in the shower with you. Still bent over, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up. His chest pressed firmly into your back. His skin was so warm compared to the cool water. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. His thick fingers were inside you, it was his fingers bringing you to your release.
You moaned, pumping yourself faster.
“That’s it,” his voice whispered in your ear. “Just like that.”
“Shit,” you hissed.
“Come on,” he encouraged with a light chuckle. His hand brushed up your sides to your breasts. He gently pinched and played with your nipples. “Come on, cum around my fingers.”
You curled your fingers, making your walls flatter. You whimpered. The sinfully wet sounds mixed with the water rushing over you. You were close, far closer than you expected.
His lips skimmed down your neck. “That’s it, almost there.”
You bit your lip. You quickly flipped yourself around, supporting yourself with your back to the shower wall. Your other hand played with your clit, swirling around, as your fingers worked faster. It was messy, it was desperate. A whine rumbled in the back of your throat.
“Oh, please, cum for me. You’re so close, I can feel it.” His fingers curled, beckoning you towards your end.
It built and built, then it all snapped so suddenly and forcibly. You came hard around your fingers. “Fuck,” you hissed out.
He hummed, working you through your orgasm. “There it is.”
You leaned heavily into the wall, panting and dizzy from your rapid orgasm. You closed your eyes for a second, and let the water wash everything away.
Meanwhile, a familiar looking portal opened up in your bedroom. Miguel stepped out with a tension wrought into his shoulders. His mask retracted and his crimson eyes slid over your room, your messy room. He raised an eyebrow, surveying your room. The one thing that concerned him the most was you weren’t here.
Where were you?
“Fuck.”
Miguel’s head whipped over to the closed bathroom door. He heard you so clearly. He almost moved, almost burst through the door, but he stayed rooted in place.
Why couldn’t he move? What if you were in trouble, what if -
The shower turned off. He heard you move around, and he saw your shadow flash under the door. If you were moving, then maybe nothing was wrong. Then without warning, the bathroom door swung open with a resounding bang.
Miguel flinched, startled by the sudden noise.
Water still dripped down from your hair and down your face. Hunched forward, you propped yourself up with one hand on the doorframe. Your chest heaved. You gulped down air as if you ran a marathon. You wore only a baggy shirt which clung to your still wet skin. Your eyes swiveled over, instantly clocking Miguel’s unexpected presence.
Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here?” You asked, ignoring his initial question.
“You haven’t responded to my calls.”
You glanced over to your watch, blinking on your nightstand. “Sorry, I was busy.”
His eyes trailed over your body. Concern filled him. He repeated, “Are you okay?”
“Just dandy.”
His lips thinned. Why were you like this? So goddamn stubborn sometimes. “You don’t seem fine, especially since our mission last night.”
“I’m just tired,” you huffed. “And a little sore.”
God, even now your body was still aroused. And with Miguel being here, it was making everything so much worse. Your fantasy from only moments ago was seared heavily into your mind.
He needed to leave before you did something you regretted.
Miguel sighed, crossing his arms. “Are you sure? Did -“
“I said I’m fine.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever.” So be it. He pressed a button on his watch, opening up a portal back to HQ. He paused. He clearly wanted to say something, but didn’t. He stepped through without uttering another word.
You wanted to call him back, you wanted to shove him onto the bed, you wanted to him and happily bounce on his -
You groaned loudly, rubbing your hands over your face.
Dear god - universe, whatever - just someone save me from myself.
You reluctantly crawled back into bed. Maybe, the shower helped. Maybe, with Miguel gone you could rest. Maybe, this was all over.
Maybe, you were just delusional.
Tonight was no better than last night. In fact, it was probably worse. Fantasies of Miguel flooded your mind, and you couldn’t satisfy yourself no matter what you did.
You will find a solution tomorrow.
There had to be one.
The next morning, before the sun properly greeted the world, you pushed yourself up and out of bed. You had an idea on where to start. Not bothering with your suit, you kept your baggy shirt and pulled on an old pair of sweatpants. You slipped on your watch and opened up a portal to HQ. You marched directly towards the area where all the anomalies were being contained. Containers lined the area as their chorus of voices begged to be released. Your eyes swiveled around, trying to locate the one anomaly who had any possible explanation to your current endeavor. But, you couldn’t find him in the sea of people. Getting frustrated, you turned your attention towards the person operating the ‘Go Home’ machine.
“Spider-Byte.”
Margo, the purple holographic girl, whirled around. She smiled only for it to falter given your appearance. You were obviously and very plainly pissed. You glared icily, unable to calm yourself. Worst of all, every time you moved, pain and pleasure rolled through you.
“Whoa, are you -“
You cut her off, “The Doc Ock, the one Miguel and I brought in yesterday, is he still here?”
“Uh.” She brought up a screen and tapped on it. “Yeah, he’s still here but not for long. I’ll have him back home in a few hours.”
“I only need a few minutes. Just point me in the direction where he is.”
Margo did so without question, she gestured down a row of anomalies. Mumbling your thanks, you spun around weaving down the aisle until you finally saw him. You stomped over and pounded on the container.
“What the hell did you do to me,” you gritted your teeth.
The man blinked owlishly. “I’m sorry - oh, oh! You! Oh, this is fantastic! I’ve been hoping to see -“
You slammed your fist again. “Answer me! What the hell did I inhale!”
He shrank, and squeaked. “Oh, uh, that’s … that’s complicated.”
“How so?” You sneered.
“Well,” he fidgeted, his tentacles squirming around. “I don’t know exactly what I gave you.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I … I was experimenting with my toxin and - and I was constantly adding new compounds to it or trying to rewrite it.”
You clicked your tongue, and raised an eyebrow.
“And well, I was trying to make it stronger, more of a deadly venom than a paralyzing agent.”
“And so you don’t know what you gave me or what was in it?”
“… no … I needed more time to study it.”
“Fantastic.”
“Well, what are your symptoms? Tell me, what are you feeling? Any discomfort? Any pain? What about hallucinations?”
He was like a giddy child.
“Oh, yeah definitely some discomforts,” you sarcastically replied. You shook your head and turned away. He shouted after you, but you simply ignored him. It took all of your strength and willpower to not break through the containment and pummel him.
Taking calming breaths, you swiftly left the area. Passing by all the anomalies, each of them shouted at you as you tried to think of a way to make this suffering end. Peter W. Parker apparently was still in the medical wing dealing with his paralysis. So, time seemed to be the only reasonable solution you could think of. And it had been a day, surely it would wear off by now.
Even if you felt worse every hour.
“(Y/N).”
A hand curled around your wrist.
A fire unfurled in the pit of your stomach by such a delicate touch. You shuddered. You kept your head trained forward, and your back to the last person you wanted to see. He couldn’t see you like this.
Not now, not after yesterday.
“What’s wrong?” Miguel asked, then took in your disgruntled appearance. “You look like …”
Horrible? Like shit?
“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you quickly answered, tugging your wrist out of his grasp.
“Clearly,” he sarcastically replied.
You bit your tongue. Dear god, his voice. So smooth, so rich. “I’m tired, okay? So, I’m just going home.”
“Wait -“
“Good day, Miguel.” You pressed a button and stepped through the portal.
Miguel clenched his fists. He was about to chase after you when Lyla appeared saying others needed him. Begrudgingly, he left. But, this wasn’t the end for him. He will get a proper answer from you.
You sighed deeply, standing back in your room alone. You collapsed forward onto the bed. A muffled groan erupted from you.
I can get through this, I’ll be fine.
An hour passed.
An ice pack, barely cold anymore, laid across your forehead. Your pants and underwear were discarded. You constantly tugged on the collar of your shirt and fanned yourself. Your body ached. You wanted to claw at your skin, you wanted to rip your hair out, you wanted -
You wanted Miguel. God, you wanted him terribly. You wanted him to bend you over.
“Just like that,” you imagined he would coo as he slipped his cock inside of you.
You tried pleasuring yourself, but nothing helped. Nothing satiated you. This swelling sensation only became more and more intense.
You hissed and curled up onto your side. The ice pack slid off your forehead. You lazily picked it up, tossing it onto your nightstand. Your eyes blinked slowly. You stared blankly at the wall, trying to focus on something - anything. Anything but the dampness between your legs, anything but your spiraling perverted thoughts.
Move.
Do something.
Call for help.
You languidly pushed yourself up, and hunched forward. Your head fell into your hands. Your chest continued to heave and tighten. Your heart pounded and rang in your ears. “Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath.
“Only if you ask nicely,” Miguel chuckled.
You shivered.
Almost summoned by your thoughts, yellow and orange lights burst to life behind you. You twisted around. A portal opened up, and a familiar hulking figure walked through: Miguel. Seeing his face, your heart sank. You whipped back around, unable and unwilling to face him.
Why? Why the hell was he here?
He squinted, seeing your decrepit posture on the edge of your bed. “Still fine I see.”
You rolled your eyes. “What do you want? I’m trying to rest.”
Miguel shuffled over. “I came here to see why you’ve been acting weird.”
“It’s nothing.”
He sighed, a short disappointed sigh. He lowered himself onto your bed. A notable gap was between the two of you. Yet, you could feel the heat roll off of him. You unconsciously leaned slightly towards him, desperately seeking him out.
“Talk to me.”
I’m worried about you, he thought.
He hadn’t stopped worrying. You were constantly on the forefront of his mind. Most of all, he wondered why you were avoiding him. Why were you locking yourself away in your room? What happened?
You stayed silent.
Miguel gently rested his hand on your shoulder. “Look -“
You flinched. You leapt away and hastily took a few steps away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
One touch and your body nearly crumbled.
His hand fell. Shock evident on his typically stoic face. His fist clenched. Anger was now getting the better part of him. “I’m trying to help you.”
You hugged yourself, keeping your back to him. “I’m - I'm fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He stood up. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” you repeated harshly.
Miguel clicked his tongue. He had enough of your constant dismissal. He grabbed your shoulders and whirled you around to finally face him. You gasped. He stared intently down at you, dissecting and analyzing you. You were panting, your skin glistened with sweat, and notably your pupils were completely dilated.
“What -“
You jerked away from him. And you unconsciously rubbed your thighs together.
Oh. Oh.
Miguel’s cheeks darkened faintly. He placed his hands on his hips, and glanced away. He cleared his throat, “How … how long have you been like … like that?”
You crossed your arms, and sighed. There was no use hiding it anymore. “Since our encounter with Doc Ock.”
His eyes flickered up. “So, he did do something to you.”
“… yes.”
“Which was?”
“He … he threw some substance at me and I accidentally inhaled it.”
He rubbed the spot between his brows, a common place for his headaches to start. “And why did you tell me?”
You tsked and sneered, “Oh sorry, boss, I can’t come in today. I can’t focus or do anything because I am unbelievably and painfully horny.”
God, this is humiliating.
Miguel sighed deeply, dropped his shoulders. “Well, maybe Doc Ock can -“
“He can’t help. I already confronted him, he was just a mad scientist who didn’t know what he created.”
He shifted his weight side to side. “Well, have you … you know …”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Miguel, we are not having this conversation.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes scanned over you again. God, he couldn’t deny that you were absolutely delectable right now. His mind ran rampant with impure thoughts. It was the way your lips parted as you breathed heavily, it was the way your body squirmed, it was the way you desperately tried to bury the noises ready to jump out, it was the way you adamantly avoided his gaze, it was the way your hardened nipples poke through your shirt, it was the way how he could smell you and your arousal.
He wasn’t blind to your beauty. He was simply ignorant to his feelings and attraction. He buried it deep within him, unwilling to acknowledge any of it. But, seeing you now, seeing the discomfort you were in, seeing you in such a needy state, he wanted to help. He took a cautious step forward, “Maybe I can help.”
You snapped your head up, staring wide eyed at him. “What?”
“I said maybe I can -“
You shook your head and backed yourself away from him until your back bumped into the wall. “No, no, what needs to happen is that you need to leave.” Swallowing down such desire, you closed your eyes and muttered, “Just go.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Fucking hell.
You shouted, “Just get the hell out of here!”
Miguel didn’t respond. Cracking open your eyes, his gaze bore directly into you. It was a searing gaze. Your knees nearly buckled under the intensity. He stepped closer.
“Please,” you whispered, practically begging. “I - I … just … just not like this, not because of my dumb mistake.”
He froze, and his eyebrows knitted together.
Your gaze dropped to the ground. You couldn’t - and wouldn’t - look at him.
He slowly continued to walk towards you. You forced down a whimper. Sandwiched between the wall and him, he gently grabbed your chin. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut. It pained you immensely to fight so fiercely against your desires and needs. He tipped your chin up. “Look at me.”
You kept your eyes closed, and your face scrunched up.
“Por favor, cariño. Please, look at me.”
Your heart flipped at his unusually sweet tone. You opened up your eyes, and was immediately greeted by his strangely, endearing, rosy crimson eyes.
“Good,” he murmured.
Oh, fuck.
Biting down on your tongue, you forced down any noises that almost dared to crawl out. You dug your nails into your palms. You wouldn’t dare touch him because if you did you wouldn’t let go.
“If I didn’t care for you in this way, I wouldn’t be here. I would be back at HQ working on a cure, on some antidote.” His other hand reached out and rested on your hip. He drew you close, flushing you to his chest. “But, am I at HQ right now?”
You didn’t trust your voice. You simply shook your head, a small twitch.
“You’re right, I’m not. I’m right here asking - begging - to let me help you.” He bent his head down, brushing his lips over yours. “Please, I want to help … I’ve … I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“Miguel.”
“Please.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t … I don’t know what’ll do. I don’t know if I can control myself.”
He slowly pulled up the hem of your shirt. His hand skimmed across your lower back. He laughed once, “I can handle it. Please, let me help.”
His fingers lightly touched your skin. A groan rumbled in the back of your throat. “I don’t want you to think differently of me,” you whispered as your eyes dropped to his lips.
Your excuses were hollow now.
He moved his head, letting his lips brush over your neck. His hands snaked further up your back, and his talons gently scraped down. You moaned, arching your back into his touch. Your hands latched onto his biceps, squeezing them.
“My opinion of you won’t change,” he muttered into your neck. His leg slid between yours. Your swollen clit rubbed against his massive thigh.
“Fuck,” you hissed, clinging onto him.
“Just say yes, cariño.” He nuzzled his face into your neck. “I want to help.”
You cupped his face, looking directly into his eyes. His eyes were begging, pleading, for you. You brought him down, giving him a sweet, loving kiss. He hummed, wrapping his arms around you. However, you quickly broke the kiss before he could truly enjoy it.
Miguel didn’t understand. How would he know? He inadvertently poured gasoline over the already raging fire inside of you. Your eyes darkened. You pushed Miguel backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he flopped backward. He held himself up on his forearms, stunned by your sudden change.
A smirk curled over your lips. A beast, one you had been holding back for more than a day, was finally unleashed. Locking eyes with him, you slowly stripped out of your shirt - your only article of clothing - letting it dramatically drop to the floor.
Miguel’s eyes greedily drank in your naked figure.
You crawled onto his lap, straddling him. You pushed him down so he laid flat against the bed. His hands instantly rested on your waist. You hovered over him, planting your hands on either side of his head.
He looked up at you with absolute adoration. He could not describe how thrilled he was right now.
You bent down, kissing him passionately. As you took the lead, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss. Miguel hummed. He brought your hips down, making you grind down on him. You moaned into the kiss. Breaking apart, you muttered, “Fuck.”
You peppered kisses all over his face, and across his jaw. You desperately wanted to trail your lips all over him. It was such a ravenous feeling. You needed to mark him, to bite him, to taste him.
“Take the suit off,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his jaw.
He let out a pleased sigh. The digital suit retracted with a whirl of colors, revealing himself to you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your inner thigh. Your lips brushed down his neck. He tilted his head, allowing you better access to do whatever you wished. Your heart soared. You slowly - teasingly so - kissed the crook of his neck. His grip on your hips tightened. Like a switch, you attacked his neck. Your teeth scraped across his sensitive skin. You nipped all along his neck needing to mark his skin. Oh, it excited you to know that these bruises would be under his suit tomorrow. Your tongue swirled over soothing any pains.
Miguel moaned.
What a beautiful sound.
Stopping your attack on his now blemished neck, your lips trailed further down his body. You kissed over his chest, occasionally biting his skin. Your eyes flickered up, seeing his head tilt back. You ran your teeth over his nipples. He groaned. You licked up his chest, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. You kissed up his jaw to his ear, and gently nibbled on his lope.
Miguel clenched his jaw. His heart flipped in his chest. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t expect to ever be here like this with you. He surely didn’t expect the control you quickly had over him.
And oh, he loved it.
Lifting yourself up, you teasingly rubbed his tip across your dripping folds. He groaned, almost whimpering.
“Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned.
At such a simple movement, you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how long you would last. You wanted to draw this out longer, you wanted to have more fun with him, but you couldn’t.
You needed him. And you were nearly insatiable.
You slowly sank down on his cock. Miguel hissed. You placed your hands on his chest, panting. Miguel soothingly rubbed his thumbs over your hips. You moaned, feeling how he stretched and filled you. No one made you feel this full or good. As you bottomed out, you swore under your breath.
Miguel chuckled to himself.
But, his amusement was cut short when you started to move. Lust flooded back into his veins. He moaned out your name. His talons popped out and dug into your hips.
You set the pace, a nearly brutal but wondrous pace.
And Miguel thought you looked divine.
Your head tilted back to the heavens. Your lips parted as you whispered his name like a prayer. Your body arched like an angel soaring up, like a renaissance painting. Your hands traced up your hypnotic body, playing with your breasts. He wanted to draw you back down, he wanted to shower you in kisses, he wanted to flip you over and pound into you. But, this was all for you. You were the one who was affected by something strange, you were the one to take the lead. You rolled your head, glancing down at him. A soft smile tugged on your lips.
Oh, the way you looked at him, the way you bounced on his cock, the way your eyes softened with affection, he felt his heart was going to explode.
His cock twitched inside of you.
You hummed.
You rolled your hips, and he swore in Spanish. Smirking, you changed the pace. It was slow and easy - just to have your fun, no matter how short lived it might be - then flipped to hard and fast - desperate to reach your end. And your end was coming quickly.
You happily split yourself and continuously moaned out his name. “Miguel,” you moaned, dropping your hands back on his chest. “I - I won’t last much longer.”
Miguel felt your walls clench around you. He gritted his teeth, and moaned. “That’s okay, that’s okay,” he whispered.
He helped you, lifting your hips along with your movements. He slammed you back down right as he bucked his hips up, grinding you further onto him. You gasped and swore.
“Fuck, Miguel, keep doing that,” you whimpered.
He smirked, enjoying your sounds. Moving you faster, you pounded on his cock. Your nails scratched across his chest in red ribbons. The coil tightened and tightened in the pit of your stomach.
You whined.
Miguel wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and lose himself in the feeling of you. But, he also wanted to watch you come undone. So, he watched hungrily.
It was getting sloppy and erratic.
You closed your eyes. You dropped your head, tucking your chin to your chest. But, fingers gently guided your chin back up. “Eyes on me,” Miguel murmured. “Please, I want to see it.”
You melted into his touch, then he bucked his hips right as you went down. The coil snapped. Your walls clamped down around him as your orgasm crashed through you. You moaned out his name as you stared down at him with hooded eyes.
Miguel clenched his jaw. Oh, what a sight. His cock jumped.
Your movements, however, didn’t slow down. You wanted Miguel to cum, you wanted to feel it. You grabbed Miguel’s face and forced him to sit up. You kissed him heatedly as you still rode him. Miguel hummed. Your fingers threaded into his dark curls, and yanked on them.
He whined.
Your eyes sparkled. “Come on, Miguel. Cum for me.”
Miguel shivered. Your words, your body, it was so wondrous. He bucked his hips up, cumming inside of you.
Finally stopping your relentless movement, you dropped your head onto his shoulder. Both of you were gasping for air. Your eyes flickered down, seeing the mess you both created.
You shivered.
Miguel, however, surprised you. He flipped you over, landing you on your back. You gasped. Before you could do or say anything, Miguel dropped to his knees onto the floor, yanked your body down the bed, then nestled his face between your legs.
He devoured you like a starved man.
Your lips parted in a silent moan as your eyes rolled back. You arched your back, and tangled your fingers into his hair.
He wanted to taste you. God, he dreamt of this so many times. Although, he didn’t dare admit it out loud. He groaned. He lifted one of your legs, tossing it over his shoulder. His hands fiercely grabbed your thighs. His talons scraped along your inner thigh. He buried his face deeper. His nose brushed over your already sensitive clit and you cried out. He growled, the taste of you and him on his tongue was divine.
“Miguel,” you gasped.
He forcibly pulled himself away, panting. His chin and lips were covered in mixed juices. His eyes were lit with primal desires. He smirked, flashing his fangs. You scrambled up. You grabbed the back of his neck, smashing your lips to his. You easily slipped your tongue inside his mouth, swirling it around. You hummed in delight, tasting him and yourself.
You still wanted more.
Needed more.
The residual of whatever affected you still lingered.
You pulled away from him. Your combined hot breaths filled the minimal space between the two of you. With you still on the bed on your knees, you finally had some height over Miguel. You cupped his face, and tilted his chin up. His arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you into him. You smiled then brushed your thumb over his lip. Without hesitation, he parted his lips and you slipped your thumb into his mouth. His tongue ran over the pad of your thumb, and the tip of his fang grazed over it.
You shivered, causing him to smirk.
You removed your thumb. You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned down, kissing him sweetly again. It was a confession, and a thank you. He sighed into the kiss. You slowly parted, lingering for a second. It was so tender, despite the cum and saliva coating his chin and your lips. And your following words reminded Miguel how and why he got into this bizarre, surreal situation.
“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whispered.
Miguel’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, then he chuckled. “Of course,” he purred. Whatever you wanted, he was happy to do. “Can you get on your hands and knees for me?”
You bit back a smile. Your fingers skimmed along his jaw as you backed away and got into position. Miguel watched, transfixed. His eyes trailed down. Seeing your soaking folds, he moaned softly. He can still taste you on his tongue. He licked his lips. Crawling onto the bed, he carefully grabbed your hips.
“You’re too good for me,” he confessed quietly.
You sighed under the simple praise.
He lined himself up, just teasing your entrance. You began to fist the sheets in anticipation. He leaned down. His broad chest pressed firmly into your back, and he whispered in your ear, “But now, let me be good for you.”
He easily pushed himself in.
You moaned unabashedly.
“That’s it, let me hear you,” he grunted.
This round was hot and fast. There wasn’t adoration or love this time, this was solely desires and sins. This was using each other’s bodies.
And Miguel was animalistic. God, it was utter bliss.
You grinded back, meeting his thrusts. You dropped down onto your forearms unable to support yourself fully. Your face buried into the sheets as you cried out. His cock was kissing spots you didn’t think was possible.
Miguel smiled, enjoying your muffled sounds and how you squirmed. His fingers reached around and began to play with your clit. You swore as your body shuddered. Your walls fluttered around him.
He rolled his head back at the sensation. It was as if you were made perfectly for him.
“Miguel,” you whined.
You wanted this so badly. You moved your hips feverishly in tune with his. Skin slapped together, wet noises echoed, and voices cried out. Miguel gasped. His talons buried into your hips, drawing out small specs of blood. He gritted his teeth, almost baring his fangs.
“Ay dios mío,” he grumbled.
Neither of you would last long.
You were begging under your breath. You needed it, you needed him. “Fuck, Miguel, please.”
“I know, I got you,” he groaned, pounding into you. “Let go, cum for me.”
You moaned.
With his fingers, his pace, and your already stimulated body, you came. You gushed around his cock, and slumped heavily into the bed. As your walls clamped down again, Miguel hissed as he spilled himself inside of you. He continued to gently rocked his hips as you both came back down to reality.
The air buzzed with the aftermath.
Your grip on the sheets loosened. You turned your head, glancing back at him: his chest covered in new bruises, his sweat covered forehead, and his fangs and talons were still out. You shivered at the sight. His eyes flickered over, connecting with yours. He gave you a tired smile. He bent down and kissed the spot between your shoulder blades.
You hummed softly.
Miguel rolled onto the bed. His arms wrapped around your waist as flushed your back to his chest. His now softened cock still buried inside.
“Better?” He murmured into your ear.
You nodded.
“Good,” he sighed. “Just … just stay like this with me, please.”
To be fair, you had no energy to argue or care. A day of exhaustion finally caught up to you. You relaxed into his embrace, enjoying the comfort as well as the fullness of him still inside of you. You placed a hand over top of his and intertwined your fingers with his. You squeezed his hand.
“Thank you,” you muttered.
He kissed your shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now rest, cariño, I got you.”
I always will, he thought as you drifted off in his arms completely satisfied.
#across the spiderverse#spiderverse#atsv#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x afab!reader#miguel x reader#miguel x afab!reader#afab!reader#smut
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Committed to the Cause - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader
Summary: Spider-Man gets injured in battle, he accidentally crashes into you and his hero complex comes into action. As he tries his best to redeem himself he can’t find a way out from the guilt and unbidden feelings.
Word count: 5,321
Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, swear words, grief.
a/n: Hi! It’s me again, here I bring a story I started writing almost a year ago but i kind of forgot it existed until like four months ago. It’s a tasm! one, hope you like it! I divided it in 3 parts because it is a bit long so yeah, have fun :)
Part 1
Peter Parker sat down near Gwen Stacy’s grave, the sky was evenly gray and the cool air swirled around making the snowflakes dance away and float around. It’s been only a week since he came back to his universe.
“I wonder how Peter 2 and Peter 1 are doing right now.” He whispered to Gwen, while his fingers brushed through the colorful daisies he bought for her. “I’m Peter 3 you know? I guess 3 is just the best number,” he shrugged remembering the chaos of that night around his brothers from another universe, literally.
“Honestly Gwen, if you only could’ve seen them—see us. They were truly amazing, and the way we all connected and then we were shooting webs, the synchronicity that I experienced— I never had that. It was as if we could read each other’s minds and wow—it was fucking cool.“
Peter sighed, a hue of vapor escaped his lips. “I bet you saw it though, how I saved MJ? Peter 1’s girlfriend, I did what I couldn’t do for you Gwen. I’m sorry, I'll always be sorry for that.”
Adjusting his beanie tighter to his head when a sudden wave of wind made his skin form goosebumps. Deep in his heart he could feel that Gwen was actually listening to his banter, that this was her way of telling him that things were okay between the two.
Peter went to see Gwen every week, she was the love of his life, he was certain of it. But the truth was that Peter had lost all hope on love after Gwen.
He’d be lying if he denied the fact that he had found himself thinking of what Peter 2 said to him; that things worked out fine eventually in the love department, it put the seed of curiosity in him, what if things actually changed for him, in his heart, and he could finally let Gwen rest. He was clinging to her memory like a life jacket, if he let go he would drown, he would lose himself to the darkness.
His phone buzzed as a message showed him a text of the police department trying to contact Spider-Man.
“Gotta go Gwen, I’ll see you next week. Love you so much.” He put a kiss on his palm to then let it linger on her tombstone.
In a hidden part of an alley he put his mask on, he had to put his stuff between some garbage bags so people wouldn’t steal it, there wasn’t much to steal there, still he plastered it with web fluid, a force of habit. He swung between tall buildings and across streets, hearing sudden gasps and shouts announcing his presence in the city. It was funny how things had actually changed for him in the span of years; The Daily Bugle seemed to stop with the nasty propaganda; he was now on good terms with the police, he also had free health insurance thanks to the police department and he was doing well financially. Stark Industries was a place he never thought he would find a spot to fit in, to do the research he felt drawn to.
There were big threats still in New York but Peter didn’t feel that dread whenever he fought, the constant fear of losing someone he loved, those being the benefits of being alone, but how alone could you be to start missing the company of a partner after years of being lonesome?
Spider-Man quickly solved the robbery near the upper east side, it wasn’t a major thing, the thieves got webbed and delivered to the detectives, he got a bullet wound in his shoulder but nothing some tweezers, neosporin and a bandage couldn’t solve. Peter was even able to do so by himself now: the perks of being alone.
Peter had received several injuries and even more deeper wounds than the one he had on his shoulder but this one time as he shoot a strand of web coming from his right arm—the wounded one—his arm didn’t find it easy to carry his weight, and he was feeling somewhat dizzy, he thought it was the blood lose, because he hadn’t received a kick to the head nor anywhere his body could react the way it was doing now. He found himself screaming as he fell from a twenty four storage building.
“Watch out! Spider down!”
His instincts shouted at him to use his other web shooter, he did so, but Peter was being a little clumsy today. Slow motion turned on in his brain. The web-thread splashed on the building in front of him, but the height wasn’t enough to make him swing by without any implications. The chime of a bicycle bell was his only warning. After that he felt the clash of his body against something warm and then he rolled on the cold concrete.
That was embarrassing. People screamed and sooner than what Spider-Man could recover, people were surrounding him to help him get up.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He spoke under the mask, his shoulder throbbing with every move.
It took him a few seconds to register what just happened. He saw a mint green bike with a twisted handlebar, a bunch of flowers scattered and crushed on the ground and then panic started to bubble in his chest. A girl—a young woman was sitting on the wet asphalt, a few people were kneeling by her side as she held her arm against her chest.
Spider-Man ran to her side, pushing the pedestrians lightly. Squatting down, his eyes scanning her, a scrape on her cheek and forehead on the same side of what he guessed was an injured arm.
“I am so sorry, I swear this isn’t me, I mean it is me but I don’t know what happened I don’t— are you alright? Can I help you with anything?”
The woman had pools of tears on the rim of her eyes, she was holding them in, because that was just humiliating, she was late for the delivery and now she had lost the bouquets and she didn’t dare to accuse The Spider-Man of her bad luck. The day was not a good one since the start. This was the ultimate confirmation.
“No, Spider-Man… sir, It’s not your fault, I just, I think I broke my arm.” She was barely able to pronounce the words, she was in terrible pain, how could she know?
“Oh, let me see.” Peter gulped under the mask, his stomach churning. He had broken the woman’s arm, this was bad. Taking her elbow she winced, tears finally slipped down her cheeks, shit. “Ms. I need to take you to the hospital.”
“No, no I have work, I can't go to the hospital now.” He saw the panic take over her features.
“It’s the least I could do. I caused this, please let me do something.”
Guilt was eating him alive, the more time he spent there with all the witnesses watching and telling her she should take Spider-Man’s word.
She felt a little hazy on the head, like when you take a pill to not get dizzy on a long road trip, and everything starts to lose sense, sounds muffling. She shook her head trying to keep the masked hero away, she had to work, she needed to gather the flowers and—
“Ms.?” Spider-Man felt panic, a rush of blood like his spider senses were going off.
Her eyes rolled backwards and she went limp on his arms.
“No, no, no.” he mumbled, taking her in his arms he did what he could to swing through the city to reach the nearest hospital.
People, nurses, doctors, they all came to a halt when they saw Spider-Man arrive carrying a woman on his arms, this was quite the scene Peter could imagine but he was not able to think straight not when he had hurt someone—by mere accident that was true, yet the guilt was so heavy he felt like he could cry under the mask.
“I need help please!” He shouted and as if he had broken a curse, nurses and doctors moved again, some of them walking towards him.
“What happened?” a nurse asked as they started moving him to a nearby stretcher.
“uh, I… she had an accident on her bike and I think her arm is broken and she has a concussion or something I’m not sure.”
The nurse nodded as they put oxygen on the girl quickly moving her to the ER. Peter followed them until someone stopped him. “Sorry man, you can’t come in.”
“Oh, yeah ok. I’ll just wait.”
“You need to get yourself fixed too.” The same nurse told him, pointing to his shoulder. “You’re ruining the floor.”
Peter’s eyes looked down and there, from his shoulder all the way down to his finger tips a thread of blood was dripping down, leaving crimson drops on the floor.
“Sorry,”
A minute later another nurse got to him and made him follow her into a room.
“We know you can’t reveal your identity and if people keep on seeing you out there they’re gonna start asking questions and it’s gonna be messy. So mister Spider-Man can you take off your suit? The mask can stay on, I need to clean that.”
Peter was a bit shocked still and maybe the blood loss was not helping so he nodded, his suit landed at his feet in a pool or red and blue, at least he was wearing a nice pair of boxers.
“I recommend you to come back later, you will only cause drama here, mister Spider-Man”
The nurse said and Peter just watched her work.
He was good as new in no time. His head felt light still but he managed to swing back to where he put his belongings in that alley. With the last bits of adrenalin still in him, he swung back to May’s, he sat on his old bed, suit on, mask off. The uneasiness he felt in his chest was suffocating. Why did he leave the hospital then? He couldn’t be at peace now. And why did he end up at May’s when he had his own apartment in Manhattan?
Maybe his injury affected his brain, his eyes checked his shoulder and the little wound was almost closed, thank goodness for fast healing but what about those who didn’t have that… What about the girl?
He wanted to make sure the girl he hurt was okay, it was an obvious statement. Yet he couldn’t go as Peter because he didn’t know anything about her and ugh, he grunted against his hands. Then he could go as Spider-Man. He knew the nurses would let him in if he asked kindly. However, he was scared of the reaction of the girl, what would she think of him of his idiocy. Spider-Man was not known for hurting pedestrians, he was supposed to save them not harm them.
His phone chimed from inside his backpack, Peter was on a streak of bad luck.
The news on his mistake quickly spread, he shook his head reading the article The Bugle had just released, how were they so fast? He wondered as his messages continued to pop up, Jonah Jameson wanted photos of Spider-Man, Peter’s former boss couldn’t let the other news sites win the exclusive so when it came to Spider-Man he still contacted Peter for exclusive photos, and Peter delivered, just because the news always made him look nice, but not this time.
Peter groaned even louder, this was not how he planned his day to go. Whenever he visited Gwen he usually had the best experiences afterwards, once he found a fifty dollar bill on the subway, just lying there on a seat, and then there was this other time where he got a free coffee because the owner proposed to her girlfriend and the drinks were free.
But that luck seemed to be long gone.
“Peter, are you in there?”
Peter’s heart jumped, he didn’t know May was home. “Yes it’s me, May!”
“Are you okay?"
“Um, yeah. I just got work to do and you know me… I’m complaining.”
“With the amount of hours you work I’d complain too. Are you heading out? I need you to bring me some bread and milk, are you staying the night, right?”
“Yeah, sure, May. Why not! Are you working today?”
“Yes, but the car is at the mechanic,” Shit, Peter totally forgot about that, he made a mental note to give May some money to get that car fixed.
“At what time you’re off?” he asked, putting a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on. “Do you want me to pick you up?” he said, opening the door.
May shook her head, a sweet smile on her face, “No, Peter. Jamie, my coworker is driving me back, you’re fine. Just don’t come back too late okay.”
Her hand caressed Peter’s cheek, making his anxious body feel slightly better. He gave her palm a light kiss and nodded. “Of course not May, when have I been late for our weekly dinners?”
He let out a chuckle watching May drop her hand as she rolled her eyes, she shook her head and with a tired sigh she only added. “Don’t forget the bread and milk!”
“I won’t!”
His smile dropped once he heard his phone buzz again. Plopping on the bed, with furrowed eyebrows, and a guilty mind, he took the decision he guessed was the most appropriate, maybe was a little over the top either way his hazy mind was calling the shots for the day.
He found himself crawling up the walls of the hospital at night, after finding the girl’s room. Spider-Man found a way in, the windows were tiny but not too tiny to not let him sneak his body inside. Crazy, he knew, he had no other option.
Seemed like none of her family members got informed because no one was there making her company. Peter felt even worse. Gulping, he took a step closer to her bed, she was sleeping. It gave him enough time to assess the damages he caused. She had butterfly closures on her forehead, her lips were chapped and her arm was in a cast resting on her stomach. Her face was resting on the pillow in a weird angle almost over her left shoulder.
The IV made a rhythmic noise with each drop, the monitors were checking her heart rate. Somehow seeing her like that made the guilt and worry grow, Peter wanted to fix this.
His eyes landed on a clipboard over a table at the feet of the bed. He grabbed it and checked every detail. Name y/n, heart skipped a beat, now her face had a name. You were a year younger than him, you had health insurance, well that was something good he could cross from the list of his doing wrongs.
No concussions, no internal bleeding, you had surgery on your broken arm, Peter winced, the radius broke in two and now you were half a robot with the pins and rods attaching your bone together. That definitely was not helping Peter feel better.
“Shit,” he mumbled, placing the clipboard back down. His hands were up to his head.
When his eyes found your face you were looking at him, with wide eyes and parted lips, Peter felt his soul leaving his body.
“Jesus fuck!” He gasped a hand on his chest. “You scared me,”
“I—um sorry? I’m, what… how did you get in?”
His hands went to his hips and shrugged. “Through the bathroom window.”
“Why?” you tried to reincorporate on the bed but whined when you moved your arm, like you forgot you had it in a cast.
“Because there was no other way to get in,”
“But there’s a door there,” you pointed with your head. “It’s easier,”
Peter furrowed, you were not able to see him. He sighed. “Yeah, I know that. But it’s the anonymity of the visit that I want to keep… anonymous.”
What was he saying now!
He shook his head. “Um, how are you feeling?”
You scoffed, Peter deserved that disdain. “Like shit, well not as bad because I’m on medication but still not great with a useless arm.”
The casted one got up as if to show him, he nodded. Taking a step closer, his hands grasped the plastic railing at the feet of the bed.
“I can imagine— I owe you an apology, I wasn’t feeling too well and it wasn’t my intention to hurt you… or anyone. I don’t do that, you know? Goes against the hero thing.”
Your eyes were shining either for the low lights coming from outside or because you were on very strong medications, Peter couldn’t tell, what he saw was a little smile on your lips.
“I suppose it’s not on the hero policy… It's fine Spider-Man, sir.”
Peter chuckled. “Spider-Man it’s fine, I’m not as old as you may think I am.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you were like thirty five or something.”
“Ouch, I… hmm no, no I—listen. I'm gonna tell you this because I think I owe you something so I’ll answer this one concern of yours, I'm around your age. So think twice before calling me old again, young lady.”
Now he saw a full smile blossom in your face, it made him feel better, a lightness finally reaching his sore shoulders.
“Um okay,” you laid deeper on your pillow, a smile still tugging at the corner of your lips.
Peter felt suddenly so overly conscious of his body and presence in front of you in a dark room, the darkness was helping but he felt your eyes on him as he paced around.
“Do you know how many days you are gonna be here?” he asked.
“I have no idea, I woke up surrounded by people, then I passed out when the nurse extended my arm and woke up like two hours ago to go pee and then fell asleep and then you were here.”
“That bad huh?” Peter crossed his arms as he leaned his back on the wall right in front of you.
“The pain was bad, but now it’s light. I do feel like I’m in a cloud when I don’t move.”
“That must be nice,” his back cracked unbidden.
“That, on the other hand, sounds bad… Are you better now? or why did you crash into me?”
Peter blinked, scratched his forehead and watched you, you looked tiny and sleepy.
“I got a bullet wound right here,” he touched his clavicle. “Lost blood and that’s when I accidentally crashed into you I was feeling dizzy, but yes I am better now.”
“I see… well, at least you are not in risk of losing your job,”
Peter straightened, a knot in his throat. “You lost your job? because of me?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, making his agony longer.
“Not really, just my weekly payment. My dad’s the owner so he wouldn't fire me, but still he didn’t even come see me, so” you shrugged. “you’re all good Spider-Man.”
“Hmm for what it’s worth I am truly sorry and I want to make it up to you, so if you need anything, really I am here for you.” Peter walked to your side, his hand lingered over your shoulder, debating himself if the touch would be too much.
“I don’t think I need anything, but thank you.” you were blinking more often, heavier.
“Are you sure?” his hand dropped by his side, forming a fist.
He wanted you to ask him a favor he wanted to feel useful, to prove to you he was good and not an asshole.
Your eyes grew big for a moment. “Wait, there is something… but I don’t think it’s safe,”
Peter clasped his hands together. “I’ll do it, what is it? I mean I’m Spider-Man, if something is not safe I am your guy, I do unsafe things for free all the time.”
“Hmm… right, okay yeah. I mean it’s not safe for me but why not, what else could happen to me, right?”
You laughed, Peter grimaced, fair enough.
“My dog, I have a little dog and he hasn’t been fed since I left this morning so… I mean if you don’t have any crime to fight right now, would you feed him?”
And his heart melted, maybe because you looked very worried and the way you were observing him made his chest flutter.
“Yeah, of course. I love dogs, I can do that, easy peasy. You got it!”
You grinned at him, teeth and sparkly eyes, Peter felt weird.
He let you explain how much food he had to put on his plate, and to refill his water bowl as well, to not step on his little grass square where he peed and to leave the window just ajar for the air to circulate.
And at the end you gave him your address, hesitation still on your voice, but Peter promised you he was going in and out fast.
“I’ll check on you later okay?” Spider-Man said, as he walked to the bathroom.
You nodded, giving him a lipped smile. “You can use the door,”
“Nah, not my style… see ya later y/n.”
Peter struggled to get out, it wasn’t as easy as getting in. He considered using the door next time.
Your apartment was small, not too small but it wasn’t big as in rich family kind of big. But it was small as in cozy. Your dog, Percy, was barking at him as he entered through your room’s window. It smelled like coconut, he sighed.
When he opened the door to reveal the hall leading to the living room, Percy jumped at his legs, looking at him with curiosity, and the barking resumed. Peter started petting him on his tiny head and as soon as Peter reached his bag of food, Percy sat at his feet.
“Oh good boy!” He scratched tiny Percy on the back of his ear. “Okay, Percy, show me your bowl…”
It surprised Peter to see Percy run from the kitchen to the spot dedicated to the little Yorkiepoo, two bowls rested side by side on a corner as his bed was placed right beside the largest couch in the room. Toys were scattered around and Peter smiled.
“Okay so your kind owner said half a cup and two treats, right?” Percy tilted his head, Peter laughed. “You are too cute”
The bowls got filled with the respective things and as Percy ate throwing Spider-Man curious looks, Peter roamed around the room. His mask forgotten on the couch. You were messy but not too messy, your apartment was clean and you had flowers everywhere. A big vase of daisies in your bedroom. Another one with lavender carnations and purple monte casinos, it made your house smell fresh. He watched a photo of you with friends and he noticed how different you looked, dressed up in casual clothes, hair brushed and yes, without a cast on the arm.
You were pretty, he noticed, how your hair fell over your shoulders and your eyes were big and sparkly. Maybe your eyes were always shining.
A bark took him out of the trance, Percy was at his feet again looking up to him. Peter squatted down and patted the dog, until the latter laid on his back showing Peter his chubby belly.
“You want me to scratch your belly? Okay, but just once because I have to go, still need to go buy some stuff you know? I need to fight bad guys and do groceries, not like you!” he kept on scratching until Percy moved his back legs as if he wanted to scratch himself. “Look at you, living your best life.”
With a sigh, Peter stood up. Ready to go back to his life, this has been a nice way to stop for a second but for him there were not many breaks.
A flick of a wrist, the window slid open a little, he gathered his web with his hand so Percy wouldn’t eat it, put his mask on and jumped off the balcony window.
Spider-Man had a busy night, some guys robbed a few trucks with chemicals inside that ended with an explosion on a dock. He felt a bruise forming on his back and arms, but he managed to get out of there, leaving the robbers webbed onto a wall of a building, the police and the firemen arrived in time for him to take a minute to recover from the smoke and the harsh hits his body received.
He filled in the police with the information and as the sun emerged, the warm sun beams calmed the pain and the coolness of his bones as he made his way back to the hospital.
Spider-Man was not in condition to sneak in through the smallest window in the room, so he entered through the emergency exit and took the elevator. People threw him furtive looks, a kid hugging his mom’s arm had his eyes glued to him, so he did what any other person would do, Peter waved at him and the kid beamed. With excuses and hand gestures Peter sighed, exiting the elevator, no nurses were around but once he entered your room, he got surprised by the one nurse who had received you a day before.
“Oh mister Spider-Man, good to see you.” She smiled at him and Peter saluted her as she made her way to the door. “She is ready to go,” she winked at him and Peter knitted his brows together.
His eyes landed on you, gathering your stuff in a tote bag as best as you could, your left arm was not as trained as the right, he noticed.
“Hey!” he said, waving at you.
You nodded. “Would you help me?”
“Sure,” Peter opened the bag and you literally threw everything in.
“Thanks… how was your night?” you asked, dark circles around your eyes.
Peter shrugged, regretting it instantly as his muscles complained. “Nothing out of the ordinary. What about you?”
You sat down on the bed. “I feel weird, but okay I guess.”
“Are you walking home?”
“Nope, got to go see how work is doing and then I’ll go home.”
Peter nodded, well… this must be it then. “Percy is a cute dog, very well behaved.”
It made you smile, hence Peter did so too. “He is… thank you by the way, for checking on him and for coming by too. You didn’t have to but you did anyway.”
Peter felt a flush and warmth coming for his cheeks. “Nah, it’s nothing. As I said I owed you so it was the least I could do, really. I’m glad you are okay, sorry for the arm though.”
Peter smiled even if you couldn’t see.
“Well, it was fun to see the famous Spider-Man up close. No offense but hope this is the last time,”
“Ouch, no, yeah I get it, hope that too. Don’t get in trouble, okay?”
“You got it spidey.”
You looked at your feet and the whole mood in the room felt weird, so Peter knew this was his cue.
“I’m gonna go now, need a bit of rest after a long night. See you… well… yeah whatever, bye y/n.”
He heard you chuckle, Peter shook his head feeling a bit dumb, closing the door at his back he made his way out the hospital.
When he got back to May's, he came to the realization that he didn’t buy the bread nor the milk, May made sure to remind him.
“PETER!”
“I’m on it, May! Sorry!”
•••
Peter was late for his date, his date with Gwen. He fell asleep on the subway and now he had to swing all the way back to get her weekly bouquet.
The place where he always bought flowers was closed, mumbling obscenities as he crossed the street.
How funny was that only half a block down another flower shop was open.
He bought flowers only for Gwen and for May’s birthday, so he didn’t know much about them other than the classic red roses for his aunt and the colorful daisies for Gwen. His jaw almost hit the floor seeing the flowers on display, buckets of color and the smell so fresh and so sweet and so magical.
After a second of admiring the shop he went to the desk where a guy was wrapping pink roses for a woman. He gave him a lipped smile which Peter replied with a nod.
“How much for a small bouquet of daisies?”
The guy waved to the woman and put all his attention on Peter. “What kind?”
“Um.. normal? I don’t know.”
The guy looked at him funny. “We have pink daisies, african, chicory, fire wheel, gerberas, japanese…”
“Just the cheapest bouquet you can give me.”
Peter was late and he was not in the mood to know the kinds of flowers. He also forgot his wallet and now he had like ten dollars to survive the day.
“Okay…” the guy shook his head. “Y/n,”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat.
Suddenly you appeared from a door he hadn't noticed until now, cast still on, but you looked healthier.
“What?!”
“Price for a bouquet of daisies…”
“What kind?” you sounded exasperated.
“Cheap,” the guy said in a tone that made Peter want to roll his eyes.
You squinted at the guy and Peter almost laughed. “Umm… eight dollars.” You finally looked at Peter.
Peter felt naked without the mask, and even if it was a crazy idea that he would deny later on the day, he, deep inside, was hoping you’d recognize him.
“Uh, um yeah that’s okay.” Peter spoke, a little choked.
“What colors do you want?” you asked him.
“All of them?”
It made you smile. “Nice.”
And you disappeared through the door, Peter let out the trapped air in his lungs.
The guy was just staring at him weirdly. “cash or card?”
“Cash,”
“Of course.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows, offended. “Whatever man, I don’t want anything, thanks.”
Peter came out of the store mad, upset, shocked and disappointed. Crossing the street he tried to look for another flower shop. He didn't care he was late anymore, Gwen was a priority and he shouldn’t feel this shitty prior to his date.
“Hey, hey… dude..”
He heard and looked over his shoulder, you were running towards him, a bouquet in hand, cheeks red and no coat on. Were you crazy or what?
Peter stopped and waved his hands to stop you.
“You forgot your flowers!” you said, a hue of vapor came out of your lips.
“I didn't pay for them,”
“I know,” you looked embarrassed. “Sorry about Jerry, he's a little bitch, here take them! They’re on the house.”
Peter’s eyes went from your eyes to the happy perky daisies on your hand.
“I will follow you around until you take them.” You grinned. “Go on.”
Peter with a little smirk on her lips, sighed. “Just because you have no coat on and it’s freezing… Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, have a nice day.”
Your smile made him feel funny inside. “Yeah you too.”
Pivoting on your post you made your way back, Peter stood there perched, waiting for you to get inside the shop again, his cheeks went fully red when you looked back at him and smiled.
“No,” he simply said, shaking his head making his way to see Gwen.
Part 2 - Part 3
#tasm fanfiction#tasm fic#tasm!peter fluff#andrew garfield#peter parker#tasm peter parker#tasm peter x you#reader insert#protective peter parker#mutual pining#spiderman fluff#spiderman x reader#post no way home#gwen stacy#may parker#peter 1#peter 2#Happy Ending#spiderman fanfiction#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm!peter fic#tasm!spiderman x reader#tags are hard#andrew garfield spiderman#andrew garfield peter parker
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angel unaware
ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader
ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.
ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort
ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)
ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k
ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3
ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!
The spider bit you first.
It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.
In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.
You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.
But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.
You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.
Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.
Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.
"You. You just–"
"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.
It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.
The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.
Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.
He’s the only one who gets it, of course.
He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know. "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.
"What do you mean?"
"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"
"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"
He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"
You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.
"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.
Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.
"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.
"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.
"Comes from my fingertips."
"No fucking way. You gotta show me."
"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.
"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.
You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.
"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.
"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."
"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.
You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.
"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"
"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.
"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.
He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.
____
He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.
But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.
Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.
"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.
"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.
"And yet you’re here."
"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."
You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.
"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.
"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.
"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."
Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.
"Am I a good patient?"
"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.
"What, I don’t get a treat?"
"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.
He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.
It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.
"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.
You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."
"Rabbit."
You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.
"What, Pete?"
"Why don’t you patrol with me?"
"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.
"It’s better when you’re around."
"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.
"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."
"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."
"I think she’s right, though."
You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.
He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."
"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."
"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.
"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."
He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.
____
You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.
You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.
It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.
Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.
Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.
He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.
The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.
Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.
You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.
He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.
"Still as indecisive as ever."
"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.
"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.
"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"
He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.
"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.
"And you love it."
More than you’d ever know.
You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.
When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.
The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.
It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.
"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.
____
You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.
You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.
No, that feels too selfish to say.
But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.
You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.
Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.
"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"
Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.
____
January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.
You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.
Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.
Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.
And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.
It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.
Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.
"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."
God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.
"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.
The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.
He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.
Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.
Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.
But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.
He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.
You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.
As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.
"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.
"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"
He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.
Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.
"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.
"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."
"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."
"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."
"Hey!"
Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.
"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."
Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.
"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.
"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.
"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."
You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.
"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"
"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"
"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"
Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."
You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?
You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.
____
The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.
It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.
He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.
But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.
"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"
Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.
"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.
The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.
Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.
"Hey, you."
"Hey."
Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.
You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.
"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.
"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," she nods incessantly.
"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.
"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."
It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.
You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.
"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.
"Since when do you drink so much?"
"It’s a party," he shrugs.
"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."
"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."
Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.
Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.
"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.
"What do you mean?"
"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."
You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."
"Seriously?"
You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.
"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."
You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.
A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.
"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.
"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."
You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.
"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.
You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.
____
You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.
He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.
"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.
"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.
Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.
"Dude!"
"What? I’m turned around!"
Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.
His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.
"Idiot."
"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."
"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"
"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.
"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"
"‘m fine. You go home."
"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"
Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"
He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.
"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."
Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.
"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.
"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"
You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.
It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.
"Yeah, I’ll take him home."
____
"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.
"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.
"Not if you were with me."
"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."
"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"
You sigh. "No, he’s not."
"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.
"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.
He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.
"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"
"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.
"‘m not gonna puke."
"I think you might, Peter."
He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.
Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.
"What?"
"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."
You sigh.
"I should get going–"
"Can you stay for a little?"
Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.
"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.
"You didn’t."
"You were gonna go home with Cam."
"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."
"Like a chore."
"Not like a chore."
"Yeah, okay."
He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.
Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.
You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.
His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.
Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.
He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.
You close your eyes.
"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.
"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.
You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.
"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."
"What?"
"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."
"What am I doing?"
Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.
"You’re with MJ."
"I… I know."
Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.
"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.
"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.
"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.
He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.
____
It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.
You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.
But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.
It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.
Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.
"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.
"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.
"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."
"I’m fine, Em." A lie.
It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.
He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.
____
Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.
He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.
Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.
He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.
After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.
"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.
"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.
Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.
In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.
When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.
He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.
Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?
The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.
The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.
An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.
"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."
He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.
He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.
"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.
"Peter. You’re hurt."
"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"
"You’re fucking limping."
You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.
Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.
A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.
"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.
You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.
A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.
Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.
"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."
He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.
When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.
"C’mere."
It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.
You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.
There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.
You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.
"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."
"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."
As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?
It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.
"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.
"For what?"
"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."
"‘m not all that good, Peter."
But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.
"I’m sorry for not being around."
"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."
He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.
"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.
"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."
"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."
"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.
"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."
You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.
____
Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.
After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.
You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.
Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.
"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.
You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.
So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”
You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.
"Less overwhelming?"
"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."
I missed you.
Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.
"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.
"You get what?"
"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."
We. We. We.
"There are cows upstate," you snort.
"You know what I mean."
"We can do a road trip."
"You can’t drive."
"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.
He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.
"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.
"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."
"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."
You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.
There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.
You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.
So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.
"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.
"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.
You mock him, of course.
"English, yeah?"
He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.
"We broke up."
You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?
"Shit. You really fumbled, then."
"Shut up," he laughs.
"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.
"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."
"Classic MJ."
"Yeah."
"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.
"I’m not a piece of meat."’
You click your tongue.
"Oh, right, you’re an insect."
"Hey, so are you!"
____
You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.
Or maybe it’s the wine talking.
It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.
It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.
You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.
Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots
If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.
He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.
Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.
His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.
Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.
Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.
“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."
"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.
"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"
Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."
Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.
By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.
"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.
"You're already in my room."
Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.
Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.
"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.
"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."
"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.
"I'd like to see you try, angel."
It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.
It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.
Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.
Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.
He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.
His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.
"Wha--"
"Fuck."
"What is it?" He frowns.
"I owe Ned twenty bucks."
"What?"
"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."
"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”
“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”
“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.
“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.
“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”
He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.
You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.
“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”
“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”
A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.
“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.
“You are.”
Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.
He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.
You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.
A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.
“Please,” you beg.
“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.
“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”
Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.
“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”
He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.
“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”
He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.
You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.
You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.
“What do you wanna do?”
“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.
“Tell me about it, Spidey.”
“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”
“And how exactly will you do that?”
“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”
There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.
“You want it that bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.
You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.
He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.
“You want me to go slow?”
“Of course not.”
You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.
Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.
“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."
Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.
“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.
“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”
You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.
You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.
Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.
“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.
“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.
“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”
You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.
“Pete.”
“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”
“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”
He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.
He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.
It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.
“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.
Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.
“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”
Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.
Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.
He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.
“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.
“Yes, angel?”
“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”
He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.
“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.
“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”
“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”
He laughs and it sounds like heaven.
“You said you loved me,” you tell him.
“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”
You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.
“I love you, too.”
You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.
“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”
“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.
“You’re cute.”
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“How come you call me angel now?”
Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.
“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”
Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.
“I have a proposition.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.
“Okay. What is it?”
“We should use our webs next time.”
He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.
“Deal.”
tagging mutuals: @meliapis @cutetomholland @userholland @sparklingsin @tomdutch @userholland @vendettaparker @selfcarecap @simplykenni @uhlxis @cordiformity @sapphicsoie @seolaseoul @honeyspidey @logangarfield @justapurrcat @arachine @cocoamoonmalfoy @ohcaptains @aniqua
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x y/n#spiderman x you#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker angst#spiderman x reader#mcu!peter parker x you#tasm!peter parker x you#tom holland x you#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#peter parker x you
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