synopsis:peter finds his way into your home and does something out of character, but it makes your heart soar.
pairing: peter parker x fem!reader
taglist: @sp1deys @inu1gf @stanmixtapes @wilczachannn @peterparkertheloml ( send an ask to be added! )
warnings:mildly injured peter parker, she/her pronouns used, LOTSA fluff!!!
author’s notes: i just hit 200 followers!!! holy cow thank you so much !!!! <3 my requests are open!!!likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated!! <3
y/n’s eyes widened, hearing the sound of someone shuffling around on the fire escape beside the window in her room. she stared at the window, trying to rationalise with herself. it wasn’t uncommon for peter to pay her visits late at night after he did his patrol, claiming something about having to know if ‘his favourite person was tucked in nicely’, despite y/n claiming she could tuck herself in perfectly fine, ‘nope! nothin’ beats the old peter parker burrito blanket special!’ he would say in return.
the window started to slide open, y/n’s nerves easing as she saw the red and blue suit slowly roll through the window and dropping to the ground with a thud.
“peter what the fuck! i said be quiet when you do this!” y/n scolded him, keeping her voice quiet, but the tone harsh. obviously, she wasn’t actually mad at peter, but he was both risking her parents catching him and finding out he is spiderman.
“sorry,” he giggled getting up on his feet, a goofy grin on his face.
“hey, hey, c’mere..” y/n’s face softened, noticing a cut on his face, right across his cheekbone. she sat up and peter sat right in front of her, still smiling, “what happened?”
her hands went up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, “i’m okay, just some drunk guy with a knife is all, you should’ve seen him, he was like swish fshh woosh, but then i was like fwip sheew pow.”
“i’m sure you were great out there, bug boy,” y/n laughed, walking over to her dresser and searching for the clothes he left there. once, she found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, she threw them behind her.
“ow.”
y/n turned around to look at peter with the items of clothing over his head, “you can dodge bullets, but not clothes?”
“it’s- it’s complicated..” he smiled, removing the clothes from his face and standing up to get changed. his hand pressed down on the spider symbol branded on the chest of his suit and at an instant the suit fell down his body and he was left in his boxers.
“really? you wear your face on your boxers?” y/n raised an eyebrow at him.
“technically the mask isn’t my face.” peter covered his boxers with his t-shirt, his face red from embarrassment.
“i think it’s cute, maybe i can get a matching pair,” y/n chuckled grabbing a wet wipe from her dresser to clean up his face, waiting for him to get dressed. peter smiled to himself as he got changed, the idea of his girlfriend wearing merch of him making him all giddy inside.
“finally… bed time,” peter sighed, letting himself fall back onto the bed, smiling at y/n.
“did you hit your head why are you looking at me like that?” y/n smiled, laughing a little bit at his facial expression. he looked like a little puppy staring at his best friend in the world.
“missed you a lot, pretty girl.”
y/n’s eyes widened and she froze, just staring at peter, “are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”
peter just frowned dramatically at her, reaching his arms out and acting like if she didn’t join him in bed in the next three seconds he would just combust into flames. y/n rolled her eyes and got into bed with him, making sure to clean his face off before they cuddled. she held his face gently and as carefully as she could, she cleaned the dried blood off his face and cleaned the cut. even though she knew it would be gone in the morning, it was still hard to see the man she was so in love with getting hurt night after night.
“what’s on your mind, pretty girl?”
there it was again. that nickname. it sent butterflies straight to her stomach.
“oh, the usual - y’know, my very adorable boyfriend but his side hustle as bug man always getting him hurt,” y/n chuckled, throwing the wet wipe away and quickly planting a kiss on peter’s cheek, just under the cut to make sure that she didn’t hurt him.
“c’mere,” he mumbled grabbing y/n by the waist and pulling her on top of him. she smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him.
“there’s my pretty girl.”
it wasn’t that peter didn’t compliment y/n - oh, he did. a lot. but nicknames was something he never did, he wanted to of course, but he was just awkward and it never felt natural to him. but boy did it make y/n’s heart soar to hear the nickname ‘pretty girl’ coming from him.
“what’s with the nickname?” y/n laughed softly.
“what? you don’t like it?” he raised an eyebrow, he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable at all.
“no, no, i like it. i really like it,” y/n admitted, feeling slightly flustered, “i’ve just never heard you call me that.”
peter smiled, pulling her closer to him, “i just want you to know how pretty you are… you are so pretty.”
y/n knew he was sleepy, he usually got very sappy and sweet at bedtime, “and you, peter parker, are even prettier.”
he scrunched up his nose as she kissed his chin and laughed quietly, “i don’t think so, you can’t say that when i have the prettiest girl in new york in my arms.”
“just in new york?” y/n teased.
“in the world- no! in the universe!”
“you are so cute,” y/n chuckled, hiding her face in his chest.
“i love you, y/n… so much,” he sighed, his hands moving up from her waist to her back, “i am deeply in love with you, sometimes it’s distracting, but that’s good, because while i’m out spidermaning i have my pretty girl here waiting for me all pretty in her pyjamas.”
“you’re such a sap, i love you peter.”
“the avengers banned me from talking about you, said i can’t talk about you unless they meet you,” he laughed.
“they want to meet me?” y/n’s eyes widened.
“who wouldn’t want to meet you?” peter smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling at how widely he was smiling.
“maybe one day, but right now you better sleep, i’m lacking vitamin b.”
synopsis:spiderman shows up to his local convenience store, beaten up pretty badly, but he’s on a mission that only you can help him with. he needed his damn slushie.
pairing:peter parker x gn!reader
taglist:@sp1deys @inu1gf @stanmixtapes @wilczachannn @peterparkertheloml (send an ask to be added!)
warnings:very brief mentions of violence, wounds mentioned, none of these are described in detail, fluff, they/them pronouns used
author’s notes: i was inspired by a tiktok of a cosplayer, which i can’t find bc my fyp refreshed :( likes, comments + reblogs are appreciated!
fridays were a day that people often looked forward to; most people quite enjoyed fridays. the satisfaction of having a productive day, yet being able to relax at home and enjoy your time not thinking about getting up the next day for work, or school. not y/n. no. they did not like fridays at all. especially not after their boss had moved them on the roster to take the night shift on fridays. what was worse was that y/n worked that evening alone, not that it was a big deal seeing as it was a small convenience store and not many people would come in during the night, but still y/n had heard all about the convenience stores being victims of armed robberies, one even getting burnt down at some point.
the night shifts scared y/n. simple as. they could care less about the fact they’d have to stay up late, often staying at the store until the very early hours of the night, occasionally having to kick out a few drunk teenagers very obviously trying to steal from the place. y/n’s boss was an asshole, but still… it was an unwritten rule amongst thieves not to steal from small businesses, only to take from the corporations that wouldn’t notice a thing or two missing.
the ringing of store’s bell drew y/n’s attention away from the cash register and they looked up towards the door which was once painted neatly with a nice neat coat of forest green, but over the years the paint started to chip, exposing the wood underneath it. y/n’s eyes widened as they watched a beaten up spiderman walk over to the slushie machines. his suit was covered in rips, ranging from the size of y/n’s thumb to the size of y/n’s hand, to say they were concerned for the masked hero was an understatement. he had a gloved hand propped up under his chin as if he was deep in thought about the different flavours of slushies, but before y/n could ask him if he needed to go the hospital he turned to them. his mask was ripped in a way that revealed the bottom half of his face and one of the eyes had been broken, y/n guessing that it had unfortunately taken the blow of a punch during a fight. y/n could see one of his eyes through the broken eye of the mask and saw the softest chocolate brown puppy-dog eyes staring back at them.
“hey, sorry, how much is a cup of one of these?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, something peter did subconsciously, yet y/n smiled at the adorable action.
“you sure you wouldn’t rather have an ambulance?” y/n questioned laughing slightly, despite their concern for the masked superhero’s life.
a smile spread across his face, wincing slightly at the pain in his busted lip as he did so, “no, no, i’ll be fine, wouldn’t want to go to a hospital anyways, not after the night i’ve had.”
“if you’re sure, spiderboy,” y/n smirked, watching the hero cross his arms across his chest to express his dissatisfaction with the nickname (lightheartedly of course), “it’s on the house, whatever size cup and flavour you want, go wild.”
“are you sure? i don’t want to do that, i can pay! i have money, i know i look like i may not, um but i can pay!” peter protested, holding up his wallet just to prove that he in fact could pay for his slushie.
“take it as a thanks for saving the city,” y/n smiled and made their way from the counter towards the slushie machines, “so what size and flavour does the superhero desire?”
“hmm, tricky question,” he mumbled, turning back to the machines and placing a hand on his hip as his other reached up to his chin, reading the labels on the machines, “what’s your favourite flavour?”
“can you keep a secret?” y/n smiled cheekily at him, mischief obvious in the glint in their eye.
“i wont tell a soul!” peter did an ‘x’ motion across his chest, smiling at the person next to him.
“okay good, because if you did… i’d have to kill you and that would be tragic, who would rob me of my money for a free slushie!” y/n joked, making peter laugh nervously, “i’m kidding spidey, come here whenever you like, as long as the boss doesn’t find out i’m giving free drinks out.”
“thank you,” he smiled, his hand reaching up to the back of his neck to rub it.
“in the back we have a secret flavour, it’s my favourite.. it’s birthday cake flavour,” y/n explained, pointing their finger behind them and gesturing to the door that had “STAFF ONLY” plastered across it in a bright red.
“birthday cake slushie? that sounds interesting,” peter hummed, “i’ll take one, large cup please.”
“only because you asked so nicely, spidey!” y/n teased, “don’t worry, i’ll make it an extra large cup, looks like you could need it.”
“ouch, i thought i looked pretty good,” peter joked with a lopsided smile across his face.
“follow me,” y/n rolled their eyes playfully at him and led him towards the door with the threatening blocky text in bright red, “here it is, the real deal, queens’ finest!”
“queens’ finest? i’ll be the judge of that!” he laughed, ignoring the pain in his body as he did so.
“of course, only fitting for queens’ protector to judge it,” y/n nodded, laughing along with him and placing the cup under the slushie machine and filling it up. they placed a cover on the top and placed a plastic straw into the hole at the top of the plastic cover, “don’t tell anyone i’m giving you a plastic straw, just couldn’t have you drinking with a soggy straw.”
“man! your secret is safe with me as long as i can take home some of these, i hate those paper straws! they always get all wet and i have to drink out of the cup,” peter ranted, pleasantly surprised to find someone who shared the same opinion about paper straws.
“dude sometimes the straw gets so soggy i just end up accidentally eating it, like once… there was a good half of the straw gone,” y/n admitted, passing him the drink, “c’mon try it.”
“i’m not even gonna ask about you eating a straw…” he muttered, holding the cup up to his mouth so he could drink it through the straw. he paused for a few seconds and then looked at y/n with wide eyes, although they could only see one, “this- this is amazing! this is the most amazing thing i have ever had!!”
y/n smiled brightly at him, “i’m glad! now that it’s spiderman approved i’ll make millions from this,” y/n smirked playfully, the tone of their voice making it obvious that y/n actually wasn’t going to go through with branding it the spiderman approved slushie.
“ha ha, very funny,” he mocked sarcastically, trying to hide the smile that was itching to spread across his face, “so what’s your name? i feel like “shopkeeper” might not be your name.”
“actually, my name is shopkeeer, shopkeeper the third destined to a live behind a cash register!” y/n joked, getting themself a slushie, “i’m kidding, it’s y/n.”
“y/n,” he repeated as if he were testing out how their name would sound from his lips, “that’s a nice name.”
y/n had a surprised expression form across her face, but a smile still spread across it, “thank you, bug boy.”
“bug boy?” he laughed.
“yeah, bug boy!” they chuckled and then took a sip from their own slushie.
“you know technically spiders aren’t bugs,” peter corrected, a smug smirk on his face.
“yeah yeah, i know arachnid shmarachnid, whatever smarty pants,” y/n scoffed, a joking and playful tone to their voice. they paused for a second and then spoke again, “do you want to go to the roof, y’know some fresh air?”
“yeah, that’d be nice,” peter smiled at y/n, agreeing to meet them their in a few minutes, as y/n would have to temporarily close the shop to make sure no one came in and robbed the place and also seeing as peter could climb up there himself without having to go through the trouble of climbing up a fire escape. peter sat himself down on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the edge, as he looked up at the sky, his slushie in hand. despite almost losing a fight to a large group of armed men, he was enjoying himself. he felt at peace knowing that he had saved a group of slightly older women and that he had his slushie he had been craving the whole day. and maybe he was happy about his new slushie buddy too.
“hey there bug boy!” y/n called out, jogging up to him, “looks like someone’s deep in thought, a penny for your thoughts?”
peter just smiled, chuckling and turning his head slightly to look at y/n who was leaning on the slight wall he had been sitting on, he assumed that they may have been slightly scared that they’d fall off the edge, not that he would let that happen.
“just thinking about how nice it is at night, y’know forgetting about the criminals and stuff,” he shrugged, suddenly feeling really small and stupid talking about it, “it’s- it’s stupid, but-“
“not stupid at all, i promise,” y/n smiled genuinely at him, giving him a thumbs up to keep going.
“um, well, it’s just that.. it’s quiet at night, but it’s not so quiet that you feel alone, you can sometimes hear cars and the occasional group of people way too drunk to care about the time… it’s- it.. it’s nice, and it makes me feel less.. alone,” peter’s face started to heat up out of embarrassment, realising he was opening up to a complete stranger that didn’t even know who he was under the mask, but it touched him that a complete stranger was willing to treat him like he was not a hero and talk to him like he was a close friend and listen to him ramble, often like mj and ned would do.
“those are some deep thoughts, bug boy,” y/n smiled up at him, “i get what you mean, i don’t like silence much either, feels too much like i’m waiting for something bad to happen.”
“well, never fear because the friendly neighbourhood spiderman is here!” he joked, putting on an overly enthusiastic voice on, making y/n laugh, as they set down their slushie on the wall that reached just below their chest.
“my hero! how ever shall i repay you!” y/n dramatically gasped.
“free slushies forever.” peter tried to answer in a serious tone, but his smile kept cracking through the serious facade he had put on for the joke.
“your wish is my command, bug boy.”
“why thank you, y/n.”
“so, tough fight tonight?” y/n questioned, a curious eyebrow raising as they picked up their slushie again and taking a sip.
“yeah, a little.. but i won! you should see the other guys, they won’t be messing with anyone for a good while,” he smiled, this job although it came with very limited rewards, nothing would ever top the reward of knowing criminals were being put away because of him. well, maybe after tonight the the free slushie was the best reward he’d gotten yet, the churros he got from an old lady once had nothing on the birthday cake slushie.
“y’know i think you’re one of the coolest heroes, you do everything with no pay and you seem to enjoy it,” y/n shrugged, “i don’t know, maybe if i were a hero somehow, i’d like a little bit of compensation for my troubles.”
“well, this slushie is a pretty good compensation i think,” peter said, taking another sip of the slushie.
“consider it a payment for your service,” y/n smiled, “and maybe you can get that free slushie for life you wanted, only as long as you show up on fridays after nine, that’s when my shift starts.”
“you’re kidding right?” he looked at them puzzled, “you don’t need to do that, i was only joking.”
“and? if bug boy wants a slushie who am i to deny him of his slushie!” y/n exclaimed dramatically.
“does the slushies come with.. maybe your number?” he asked, knowing he may be pushing his luck with that question, but the smirk on y/n’s face telling him otherwise.
“smooth, spiderman.. very smooth,” she chuckled, “check the side of your cup.”
he looked down at the cup and turned it, looking for what they were hinting at. sure enough, on the side of the cup read a phone number and ‘call me? :)’, “when did you even do that? i didn’t even see you hold a pen for the entire night!”
“a magician never reveals their secrets,” y/n smiled proudly.
“do you just have a stash of cups either your phone number on them or something?” peter joked, tilting his head in a teasing manner.
“that’s pretty smart, but nope! i only give my numbers to the cute, but slightly disheveled looking superheroes that show up,” y/n teased.
“ohh, i see, you get a lot of those coming through here, then?” peter asked, a playful tone in his voice.
“unfortunately not, you’re the first, but i may need to beat the other heroes off with a stick from now on, bug boy’s the one getting free slushies from now on,” y/n laughed, finding their own joke amusing.
“oh yeah, because you just have a bunch of super heroes lining up to get your number,” peter rolled his eyes, a small smile across his lips.
“woah! okay then bug boy, no free slushie for you!” y/n scoffed, pretending to be offended by him.
“nooo! my free slushies!” he frowned playing along with their joke, “i take it back i’m sorry, anything but my free slushies for life!”
“hmm, i’ll consider giving you your free slushies back, if you promise to text,” a cheeky smirk formed on their face as they looked at the semi-masked hero.
“man… i don’t know if i can do that!” he exaggerated a sigh and frowned.
“damn, okay, spiderman has no mercy tonight,” y/n laughed.
“i’m joking, i’m joking i promise,” he laughed with them.
“this was really nice, but i’m gonna have to go reopen the store if i want to keep my job!” y/n smiled at the masked hero.
“thanks for hanging around with me, y/n! and thank you for the slushie, i’ll definitely be back!” he exclaimed excitedly and then started stuttering in a slightly panicked voice, “w-wait, no i meant i’d come back to see you, not-not just for the slushie, i swear.”
“you’re cute bug boy, i’ll see you around!” y/n waved at him, before making their way to the fire escape, reluctantly leaving the hero alone. peter sat there for a few more minutes, staring down at the cup and smiled at the phone number. he turned the cup around, fidgeting with it before he left the rooftop. he noticed the same handwriting on the other side of the cup and stared at the words ‘ur an idiot :)” staring at him.
Based on this request: “A Peter Parker oneshot where the reader can put people to sleep with her touch, but she’s got something against the Avengers. As per usual, Spider-Man isn’t really that involved himself with the Avengers, but still helps them out, so they’re enemies. Yet she and Peter are friends in their normal lives, not knowing each other’s secrets”
It is dead silent in the school library. Perfect, blissful silence, something that happens about once every century and quite possibly not even that often. For once, everybody is working, totally focused on whatever math homework or group project has befallen them. Around you, the hum of concentration scarcely dares to make a sound. It’s fantastic.
Or, it is fantastic until your phone jolts to life with an alarm. You grab it within the span of about half a second, immediately silencing it, but the damage is done. You swear you get a dozen angry glares, even though your phone was only on vibrate mode. Never mess with the impeccable study schedules of high school students when they’re a few hours from a deadline.
Your best friend arches a brow from where he sits across a very small table nicked by its fair share of overly aggressive pencil strokes.
“You do realize you’ve ruined all of us, right? No one here is going to be able to concentrate for the next day or two.”
You glare at him. Peter Parker may be one of your good friends, but it’s not as if he’s any better. Not even ten minutes ago, he nearly caused a riot by cracking his back so loudly that he attracted the stares of a study group three tables down.
“You’re the one who’s talking. Shut up.”
Peter just grins. “It’s too late to bully me, everyone else is already talking anyway. I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but you’ve destroyed the entire atmosphere.”
Peter isn’t entirely wrong. Already, people are daring to voice their comments again, and you have no doubt that the entire library will break back out into conversation in a matter of minutes.
You roll your eyes. “My apologies for messing with the vibe. Anyways, I have to go.”
Peter frowns. “So soon? I’ll miss you terribly.”
You smirk. “I bet you will, Parker. I hate to separate you from my presence, but I have no choice.”
Peter waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll mourn for hours. Are you still up for our study sesh later tonight? If you abandon me the night before our history final, I will actually lose my mind.”
You grin. “Never, I need that as much as you do. See you tonight.”
Peter waves goodbye as you gather up your things and go. You leave with a smile, and not just because you’ve been able to have another productive study session with your best friend.
No, this particular source of joy has everything to do with the alarm that just went off on your phone. You created that reminder to make sure you were ready to go when the time came. Namely, the time when all of the Avengers would travel out of their facility and thus be unprepared for an attack. You’ve been tracking security cameras and exit patterns as best you can, and you think you’ve been able to successfully map out the one time of day when New York’s resident heroes are least likely to be in Avengers Tower.
To put it simply, you’ve got a break-in planned, and you’ve organized it so it’ll coincide when no one is there. You’ve got a bone to pick with the Avengers. Technically, they only know you as Nightmare, an inhuman with the ability to put someone to sleep with the mere touch of a finger. Every good villain has a secret identity, and yours has been striking terror into the hearts of the Avengers for the past couple of months.
See, it all started about a year ago. Life isn’t wonderful as an inhuman, especially not since the Avengers started racketing up their enlistment process. Basically, if you’re even rumored to have gifts, you’re brought in for all sorts of questioning and tests, and if they find anything on you, you can kiss your normal life goodbye.
That’s what happened to a friend of yours, a girl named Alyna. She was able to bend light, and the two of you were happy practicing your abilities together until she messed up and used her powers in front of a security camera near northern Manhattan. Next thing you knew, she had ‘moved to a different school,’ and you never saw her again. You know the whole thing happened because of the Avengers, she was able to tell you that much before she vanished.
Now, you’re doing everything you can to find her. You’ve been raiding S.H.I.E.L.D. outposts for a while, trying to find anything on her, but the real target is the Avengers complex. You’ve been setting this up for a while, and finally, it’s time to strike. You pull on a change of clothes in a nearby alley, tug a hood up around your face, and start to walk briskly towards Avengers Tower. It’s time to do this before you lose your nerve. You have to find your friend.
You have no idea how well this is going to work, if it’s even going to work at all. Suddenly, it occurs to you that this is a terribly stupid plan. You’re one person, and S.H.I.E.L.D. is a mammoth organization composed of thousands of trained killers. There is no David and Goliath here, more like one David and about twenty or thirty Goliaths all junked up on super soldier serum and thus resistant to stones. The odds are not entirely in your favor, to say the least.
However, you’ve already arrived, and the sight of the crimson ‘A’ over the door fuels you to keep going. You’re not doing this for you, you’re doing this for Alyna. You have to keep going for her. It’s what she would do for you.
So, you duck your head as you enter the doors, and walk briskly towards an information desk located in the center of the room. You can see two double doors at the far side, locked and in need of a key card. They’ll probably lead to the rest of the complex.
A tired looking woman raises her eyebrow suspiciously when you walk in. “Can I help you?”
You notice a key card attached to her ID and smile. “Yes, actually, you can.”
You lean close enough to the woman that you can reach over and tap her wrist ever so gently. The security cameras shouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, as you don’t seem to attack her, just stand there. The woman slumps back into her seat, and you grab her key card as she falls asleep. You let yourself in through the doors, and then it’s time for the next stage of the plan.
You’ve learned one crucial lesson over the past couple months spent breaking into smaller S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities: if you look like you belong, you won’t get caught. Walk with confidence, and you’re pretty much bulletproof. Even though you’re dressed in a hoodie obscuring most of your face whereas everyone else is dressed in impeccable uniforms, no one casts you a second glance. They just assume you’re coming back from an undercover mission and haven’t yet had the chance to change. The stolen ID card casually pinned to your chest doesn’t hurt either.
You don’t entirely know where you’re going, but after a few good loops of the hallways, you find a room off the main promenade that’s full of computers. It’s only guarded by a couple people so it should be fine, right?
You close and lock the door behind you, which causes the two agents to look up from their computers. One steps forward, a hand reaching for a gun.
“What are you doing here?”
You smile at them, sweeping close enough that you can lay a hand in their pulses, one by one, and knock them out with your gift. “Getting what I want.”
Thankfully, one of the agents was already logged in, so you start searching for files on the open computer. Anything is good, and the further you scroll, the more you realize that you have no idea what you’re doing. Everything is labeled with long strings of identification digits, or hidden behind password protection.
Eventually, you manage to find an entry level subfolder on S.H.I.E.L.D. recruitment policies regarding inhumans. It’s the best you’ve got right now, so it’ll do. You whip out a flash drive to start copying stuff over, and that is when everything goes wrong.
Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. knows enough about foiling break-ins to regularly check in on agents guarding their doors. Your receptionist must not have woken up in time to answer a call, or somebody passed by and realized that she was slumped over her desk instead of monitoring new arrivals. Regardless, you’re suddenly running on far less time than before, and people are going to start searching for you. You need to hurry this up.
Already, you can hear the sound of footsteps pounding down the halls. Someone tries the knob on your door, jiggles it a few times, then calls for backup. They’ve found you. Swearing under your breath, you silently beg the computer to hurry up. There’s only one door in this room, which is currently facing opposition from agents trying to get in, so you obviously can’t use that.
There is, however, a window on the far side, which looks to be just wide enough for you to get out. You reach in your backpack and pull out your uniform, the one you use whenever you have to go out on Official Inhuman Activity Time without a disguise like the one you’re wearing now. It features a mask, which is the main reason you want to have it on. A hoodie will only do you so much good when you’re running for your life, and you can’t afford to be found out.
The computer beeps at you as you’re zipping up the last couple inches of your uniform. You shove your clothes into your bag and race over to it. The door splinters to your left and you quickly change directions, tapping the oncoming guards on any exposed parts of skin so you can force them into unconsciousness. It won’t last long, especially since more and more agents are pouring down the hallway towards you, but it can at least buy you some time.
You run back to the computer and grab your flash drive before exiting out of the file locations. Turning your attention to the window, you examine it for latches and levers, anything to let you out. There’s a knob on the side and you twist it, causing the pane of glass to pull out towards you. A fire escape style railing winds treacherously down to the ground, but you doubt you’ll have enough time to jog down the remaining flights of stairs before they find you.
Looking behind you at the rapidly approaching squadrons of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, though, you’re not sure that you have much of a choice. You fling yourself out the window before you can talk yourself out of it, then close the glass panel behind you in an attempt to disguise your exit, not that it will make much difference.
Guards are starting to amass on the ground beneath you, so instead of running down the stairs, you run up, towards the roof. From there, you’re able to start running across the flat tops of the buildings, hoping to make it towards a nearby commercial district before you’re caught.
Someone lands on the roof beside you before you can get very far, though. Judging by the flash of electric blue in his eyes, and the hammer clasped firmly in his hands, you’ve made an enemy of a very powerful Norse god. This is exactly what you’d been hoping to avoid.
Thor frowns at you. “Stop right there, mortal. You have something of ours.”
You nod. “Okay. Can I hand it over now?”
Thor’s eyes narrow. “Really?”
You smile as disarmingly as you can. “Yeah, really. Giving it to you as we speak.”
You walk slowly towards Thor, flash drive held up so he can see it, but just before you drop it into his awaiting palm, you reach for his wrist instead. Putting Thor to sleep is far harder than your garden variety agent, and it takes almost all of your willpower to manage it, but when you blink hard after a sudden bout of intense dizziness, he’s suddenly sprawled on the ground in front of you.
You laugh, elated. You just put a god to sleep. You just put a god to sleep!
There’s a whir of helicopter blades overhead, and you start running again. It’s sometimes hard to remember being chased by a massive government organization when you’ve taken down the crown prince of Asgard. Everyone has their own priorities.
You reach the edge of a building, and come to a hasty stop. The next building isn’t as close as you thought, and the thought of messing up a jump and having your mission come to a hasty end isn’t all that appetizing, but you don’t have much of a choice.
At last, you get a running start, and take off before you can stop yourself. You only manage to careen through the air for about a couple feet, though, before someone collides with you. This someone, as it turns out, would be Spider-Man, at least judging by the red and blue suit and the rope of spiderweb he’s been using to swing into you.
You glare at him, frustrated. “You’re not supposed to be here, you know.”
You’re fairly sure that he’s grinning. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you. You know, the last time we fought, you swore that you never wanted to see me again.”
“I don’t,” you offer, but he doesn’t seem to believe you.
“Then why are you at the Avengers complex? Honestly, I appreciate the attention, but we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
You roll your eyes, trying and failing to knock him unconscious through the material of his suit. “Yeah, quit it. Give me your skin.”
You swear you can see the eyes on his mask widen. “What the fuckdoes that mean?”
You grin in spite of yourself. “This.”
You scan his uniform, searching for any inch of available skin, but you can’t find it. By pure luck, your eyes catch on a seam between his shoulders and his jawline, as if the suit itself separates out into a mask and torso piece. You seize upon the opportunity, yanking the bottom edge of the mask up just enough to reveal an inch or two of skin.
Spider-Man attempts to twist away from you, but it’s too late, and you’re desperately pressing your hand to the bare space above his collarbone. It takes just a moment for it to work, for his body to sag in your arms.
The two of you are definitely still swinging between skyscrapers, though, so you curl the fingers of your free hand around the webbed rope and hold on for dear life until you can come to a rolling stop on a nearby roof. Your arms ache as if they’ve been pulled out of their sockets, and your entire body is screaming in outrage, but you’re alive, at least.
So is Spider-Man, albeit asleep. You may be fighting the Avengers, and by extension, him, but that doesn’t mean you want to drop him off the side of a building. Contrary to anything you’d ever tell the masked hero, you have found yourself covering up a laugh or two at his sarcastic remarks, and he’s the only Avengers affiliate you think might actually win fights for the people of this city instead of a public victory for S.H.I.E.L.D. and their men.
You drag yourself over to the section of the roof where Spider-Man lies. He’s breathing, which is good. However, his mask has ridden up on his face during the crash landing onto the roof, revealing a sliver of a smile.
You freeze in place, hand extended to pull down the mask. You know that smile, that corner of a mouth just shadowed under the recesses of the mask. You saw it just an hour or so ago. This is—
Oh, no, this is Peter Parker. This is the boy you were studying with earlier today, the one who walks with you to your locker in between classes no matter how far away his next room is, the one who has been your best friend since the dawn of time and who has also been the masked hero trying to take you down for months.
You jerk away from him, crumpling into a tangle of limbs and folded arms and awful, awful realizations. You can’t take this, not now. Not with the heavy din of S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopters still clamoring overhead, trying to find you.
You’re not going to give up on trying to dismantle the Avengers’ stringent recruitment policies when it comes to inhumans, but this has definitely thrown a wrench in your plans. Peter is already starting to come to, so you force yourself to tug the mask back down over his face so he’ll never know.
You’re long gone by the time Peter Parker wakes up, already forced into the shadows by the agents combing the rooftops in search of the villain they’ll never capture. You’re forced to take a long, irregular way home due to search patrols, and by the time you finally make it back to your room, night has long since fallen. You change out of your uniform on the way back, then let yourself into your room.
At last, safe within the confines of your apartment, you let yourself relax. You draw a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight. You nearly died about a dozen times, and for what? You have no idea if the information on your flash drive will be useful whatsoever, and you’ve got to grapple with the fact that you’re likely going to have to keep going toe to toe with Peter whenever you try to work on your Saving Alyna crusade. You can’t keep this up.
The door swings open, and you flinch. Standing over the threshold between the hallway and your bedroom is Peter Parker, as if you’ve summoned him there by mere thought alone. You remember fleetingly that you were supposed to have a study session tonight, which you’ve probably missed. Shoot.
Peter’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “Sorry for startling you, I let myself in. You’re only a couple minutes late,” he answers in response to your silent question, “so don’t worry about it.”
He takes a hesitant step into the room, then frowns, eyes casting searchlight beams over your skin. “Y/N, you’re covered in bruises. Is everything alright?”
You glance down at yourself and grimace. You took several hard hits trying to escape the Avengers complex, and it’s showing now. At least you’re out of your Nightmare uniform, but you look like you got into a fight with a brick wall and lost.
You rub a tired hand over your eyes. “I, uh, tripped going down a flight of stairs. Like, a really long flight of stairs. It’s been a rough afternoon.”
Peter nods slowly, although you can’t tell if he entirely buys your lie or not. “Yeah, I can see that. I’m assuming you were held up because of all the traffic in the area, it took me forever to get here, too. Someone tried to break into the Avengers facility and now it feels like the city is being monitored by police.”
A sudden light dawns behind his eyes. “Wait a minute. You left a couple minutes early from school, as set out by a specific alert on your phone. You came back late. You’re covered in bruises.”
You really, really don’t like where this is going. “Your point is?”
Peter clasps his hands together in front of him as if he’s about to deliver a killer presentation. “You’re an Avenger. I mean, it’s hard to tell which one, because I thought I knew who a lot of them were, but we seem to be getting more by the day. Really, though. Are you an Avenger?”
You laugh before you can stop yourself, the sound like that of a lunatic. “An Avenger? No, Peter. God, no.”
In fact, you couldn’t be further from being an Avenger. You’re literally doing your best to make sure there are as few Avengers as possible. Oh, if only he knew the irony of that very question.
“Well, put it that way, and it makes it seem absurd. I’ll still be holding out hope, though.” He says.
Peter has started to turn a faint red, but all you can think about is that this was a very, very near miss. You need to be more careful, especially now that you know Peter is Spider-Man. If you were smart, you would start cutting ties with him, and make sure that Peter has as few chances as possible to figure you out.
However, you need your best friend more than anything. So, you just laugh along with him, then start to pull out your notebooks for the study session. You consider him, sitting across from you, head bowed over the latest calculus homework, and make one decisive choice. You’re not giving him up. Not now, not ever. It might destroy you, but leaving Peter behind would kill you far faster than any secret identity reveal. You just hope that he’ll extend you that same courtesy if he ever finds you out.
Summary: Peter brings a lab coat home one day. It gives you an idea. How could you pass up a chance to drive him wild?
Warnings: afab!reader, oral (fem receiving), lots of bad chemistry puns, penetrative unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), did I say bad chemistry puns already? This went from smut to fluff to humor at the end.
“Welcome home Mr. Parker,” You said upon your fiancé entering the apartment you and him shared. He put down his bag (full of papers) and gave you that small, forced smile that instantly told you it had been a long day.
“Long Friday?” You asked, taking your attention away from the stove.
“Oh you know, the usual. Did you know you can say to your students “this material is corrosive; it will burn through fabric’ ten times and they’re still shocked when it burns a hole through their lab coat?” He held up the lab coat, which had a small but noticeable hole in it.
“I’m sorry babe.“
“It’ll be an easy fix. Besides, I should start washing these regularly. I forgot how bad teenage B.O. is,” He said, throwing it over the chair. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Whatcha making sunshine?” He asked, his breath hot on your neck.
“Just some salmon cakes.” This was your routine- Peter would come home and wrap his arms around you, whether you were watching TV or cooking dinner.
“I missed you,” He murmured into your neck.
“I missed you too my love,” You said, flipping the salmon cakes so one side wasn’t burned.
Your eyes darted to the table, landing on the lab coat.
An idea popped into your head.
A different idea. A spicy idea. An idea that made you inadvertently squeeze your thighs together.
I looked around, sighing in frustration. It was not comfortable waiting for someone during the winter, in New York. And choosing a rooftop was definitely not a good idea.
I was waiting for Peter, a close friend of mine, I had told him to meet me immediately and told him it was very urgent. There wasn’t anything wrong, it was just that my paranoia had me under control, driving me mentally sick because for days, maybe weeks I had just one question in my head: could Peter…be Spider-Man?
It all had started when he ‘got an internship in the Stark Industries’. He constantly ditched me, showed up late everywhere, left me and Ned with all the work we had for our science project and Ms. Parker started asking me questions to see if I knew why Peter kept sneaking out at night. If he was Spider-Man, all of these would make sense along with some other small details I noticed. Maybe I was just watching too much Sherlock. But no matter what, I had to know. I just had to have an answer.
“(Y/N)!” Peter’s screaming made me jump in fear, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I turned to face him as he rushed in front of me. “What is going on? What is so urgent you wanted to meet here, in the middle of the night?” His voice reflecting his anger.
“I-I have to tell you something.” Ask you something. Ask! Why am I so nervous?
“What? What is it?”
“I know.” I was only capable of saying those two words. Even though I had this conversation practiced in my head a dozen times, I couldn’t help but be nervous.
“What? Know what?” He chuckled nervously, making me more confident of myself.
“I know Peter! So-so you better explain yourself before I-“
“(Y/N)! You know what? Just tell me!”
“Why you sneak out at night, why you always ditch me, have scarves all over you, a-and whenever you’re gone stuff, you know, happens! I am not an idiot.”
I saw the shock in his eyes as his mouth opened, no word coming out.
“Y-you, I don’t know what you’re saying. I have no clue. Zero, like-like none, you know what-“
“Peter! Just admit it.”
“Admit what? You’re freaking me the hell out.” He said, trying to act all cool.
“Admit who youare.”
“We’ve been friends since elementary school, don’t you kn-“
“Peter!” I shouted again. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”
“W-what? I-I’m not Spider-Man! What the hell?” He said, laughing nervously again.
“Oh you’re not?” I asked sarcastically.
“Of course not!”
“So you’re doing all those things becaausseee?”
“The Stark Internship! I’ve been saying- Do you even ever listen to me?”
“Oh, yeah, right, that! Why couldn’t I think of that! So what do you do in this ‘internship’?”
“(Y/N), you sound so crazy right know.”
“C-crazy? Me?” I took a few steps back, running my hands through my hair. I was freaking the hell out.
“Yeah you! You know what, I’ll prove it to you. Show you where I work, introduce you-“
“P-prove it to me?” I asked, as the words left my mouth, an idea popped into my head. I turned my back to Peter, facing the view up from the rooftop we were standing in.
“Yes! How about tomorrow? I promise.”
I didn’t answer, I just walked towards the edge. I saw the ground, God, how high is this building?
I turned back to face Peter, with a creepy grin on myself. “Peter, you’re telling me you’re not…”
“Not Spider-Man!”
I took a few more steps towards the edge.
“(Y/N) What are you-“
“So that would mean…” I looked down at the ground again before looking at him over my shoulder.
“You couldn’t do anything, you know, if I happened to slip and-“
“No no no no I don’t like where this is going.” He walked towards me, there were still a long distance between us.
“So if I jump,” I stepped on the sides.
“…You couldn’t catch me.”
“You are being insane! Get back down, please!”
“Not until you tell me who you are.”
He walked towards me, “N-no! Come any closer and I’ll jump.”
“Okay, okay!” He stopped, holding his hands up in the air. “Just please, for the love of god, get down from there.”
“Peter, admit it.” I said, my voice more confident. I knew no matter what, he could catch me. He was Spider-Man.
“I-I…(Y/N) I AM NOT SPIDER-MAN!”
“Well, I guess, I am going to die…” I took one more step. And that was it, there was no more space left.
“Get down there, please! I. AM. NOT. SPIDER-MAN.”
I took a deep breath. My heart was pounding in my chest. I heard him talking, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I knew there was only one way to find out.
I let myself go, backwards into the darkness. He shouted my name, and I caught a sight of him running towards the edge. That was the last thing I saw before I shut my eyes. Just in a few seconds, I found myself in his arms, my face buried in his shoulder. We were…up in the air. My brain couldn’t function what was happening. I opened my eyes when my feet touched the ground.
“Oh my god.” I breathed out as I looked at him. We were safe on the ground.
“Are you okay?” He asked as he held my face, looking into my eyes.
“Y-yes. I knew it.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared the living shit out of me.”
I closed my eyes as I hugged his neck. “It’s okay. I knew you would catch me.”
People often joked that you and Peter Parker were academic rivals. You only shared two classes; biology and chemistry. You didn’t even know Peter’s major, but it definitely was not the same as yours. You were studying Cognitive Sciences, brain function, psychology. You’re pretty sure Peter was doing a physics degree. But for those two classes, you fought tooth and nail to keep your grade higher than Peter’s. Academic rivalry was what kept your grades from slipping. it was the only thing that kept you going to class. And then one day, you just weren’t there.
Peter was worried. You weren’t friends, per se, but you never missed a class. Peter saw you every day. You sat right next to him, thighs pressed together, elbows knocking against each other, every day. So when you didn’t show up, for the first time ever, Peter worried. He could barely sit through the class. Peter had seen you at your worst. He had seen you in dirty sweatpants with bags under your eyes, barely awake, and he had seen you in your plaid skirts and low cut blouses, cogs turning furiously as you hastily scribbled down notes.
Peter didn’t even know where your dorm was. He searched the campus until he found someone who he knew was your friend. They gave him your address far too quickly, it was concerning. But he didn’t stick around to lecture them. He raced off towards your dorm.
The knocking woke you from your nightmare. The loud, incessant, annoying knocking that rang through your dorm. You groaned loudly and nearly fell off the couch.
“What do you want?” You said, opening the door with your eyes closed.
“Hey,” he smiled breathily.
“Peter?”
“You weren’t in class.”
“I wasn’t,” you were being blunt.
“I’m worried about you.”
Seeing you didn’t do anything to ease his worry. You looked worse for wear. Mascara was smeared under your eyes and streaked down your cheeks. You looked pale, your skin had a sickly green tinge. Your eyes were puffy, circles dark. You looked like total shit. You had definitely been crying.
“Let me in, sweetheart,” he asked.
You moved aside. The dorm was dimly lit. There was a blanket strewn on the floor next to the couch, and a box of tissues on the coffee table. Peter watched a true crime documentary play on your tv. You sniffled behind him and his attention was on you again.
One hand wrapped loosely around your wrist. He collapsed onto your couch. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He sighed as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. On a regular day, you would have fought against Peter. But you were so pliable under his touch, so ready to give up, it made Peter worry even more.
“Sweetheart,” he purred sympathetically. “What happened.”
“I got broken up with.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you said bluntly. Peter couldn’t hear any sadness in your voice. “I didn’t really like him anyway.”
Peter was confused. You sounded relieved, so why were you crying. Peter probed for an answer. But you were stubborn, always have been. And so Peter asked and asked and asked for an explanation. You shook your head over and over, still buried in the crook of his neck. He wore you down eventually, and you lifted your face from its hiding spot.
“Why are you sad, sweetheart?”
“I have manipulated who has ever fallen in love with me to fall in love with me,” you confessed.
You looked devastated. Peter could feel it, total and utter dejectedness that hung heavily in the air. Peter’s hand squeezed your thighs reassuringly. He was in love with you. And you hadn’t manipulated him. He had fallen in love with you accidentally. One day while you were furiously scribbling down chemical equations, he looked over at you. Your hair was in your eyes, your bottom lip was clutched between your teeth. You looked so utterly beautiful. Peter’s heart nearly exploded. Now Peter got nervous when he spoke to you, made heart eyes at you when you weren’t looking, longed for your touch, prayed for your smile. He had fallen in love with you, and you had nothing to do with it.
“And that either makes me a very good liar,” your lip quivered. “Or a very unloveable human being.”
Peter wanted to scream. He wanted to hold you and tell you that you weren’t unloveable. You were perfect. He wanted to tell you that he loved you. He couldn’t find the words. So he kissed you.
His hands cupped your face and he kissed you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your whole body stiffened. Peter kept kissing you, prying your lips open until you whimpered into his mouth. You relaxed and your hands tangled into his hair.
“I don’t think you’re unloveable,” he whispered against your lips. “I think you’re fucking perfect.”
All you could do was stare at your husband of 2 years after he asked something so random. “Pete, you’re gonna have to be specific cause…why?” you ask, disbelief written all over your face.
“I mean, you always wax. I feel like it’s a little unfair,” Peter shrugs.
Your mouth is hung open, and you blink, still not knowing what to say. You finally snap out of it, “Peter…babes, you don’t have to do that. I wax cause I want to, plus as long as you trim the hair, I don’t mind it.”
“But I wanna try it. Just once at least, please?” Peter begs, giving you the ‘I love you, so please do this for me’ face.
You sigh, knowing that face always breaks you. “Alright. Ok, fine, yeah, I’ll wax you.” Even though you don’t fully get his reason, the big smile that spreads across his face is definitely worth the yes.
Within minutes, Peter is laid on his back on the bed, below his waist completely bare, as he watches you prepare your wax. “Ok,” you start after you’re ready, “it’s gonna be warm. Just relax.” Peter nods, and you start putting the wax around his hairy area.
When the wax comes into contact with his skin, you see him slowly inhale, the ghost of a smile on his lips. As you continue, as you expected, he starts getting hard. You knew he would. The warm wax is so close to his cock, so he can’t help it.
You can tell he doesn’t notice cause he acts so natural while his cock stands stiff and tall against his stomach. You know he’ll be embarrassed when he realizes.
Once you’re finished coating all the wax, you get the strips and start sticking them. You stick the first one, but Peter’s cock is in the way of the second, so you gently move it out of the way with your hand, finally getting his attention.
You act like you don’t see his eyes snap open and down to you, and his body slightly stiffens. “S-sorry,” he finally squeaks out.
“It’s ok,” you say, giving him a gentle smile. You continue sticking the last strip, noting how Peter is a little more fidgety, the warmth of the wax no longer distracting him from the pulsing in his hard cock. “Alright, done. I’m gonna pull them now,” you tell him, looking at the wax strips on his pelvis.
“Alright,” he mumbles.
You grip the first strip, giving him one last look before pulling it. You didn’t know exactly what to expect, but at the least you figured the pain would make him soften. It didn’t. The most reaction you got was a quiet sharp inhale. “You good?” you ask, setting the strip to the side.
“Yeah.”
You keep pulling the strips. It’s not many, but each time, Peter gives less and less a reaction, only his face progressively getting redder, plus him starting to bite his lip. “Alright, last one.” Peter only gives a hum in response. You grip the last strip and pull.
This time, you definitely don’t expect what happened. You’d admit, Peter’s cock was visibly pulsing, his tip red and begging for stimulation, plus the fact pre cum started leaking from his slit. However, when his cock started spriting out cum, a loud whimper escaping his lips, it surprised you.
Thick cum leaks from his tip, and he can’t help but hang his mouth open and pant, a soft cry leaving it from the relief. A surprised smile spreads your lips, and you open your mouth to say something but don’t know what to say. “Pete- I, I’d ask if you liked that, but…” you trail your hand up his leg and wrap it around his cum covered cock, making him yelp when you start stroking it.
“Ah~ w-wait~ Y/n, please- s-sensitive,” Peter whined. You smirk, but have mercy on him and take your hand away, grabbing a tissue to clean him up. Once you finish, you put everything away, and Peter is still laid on the bed, his eyes heavy.
You climb on the bed next to him, sitting up on your side and looking at him. “Do you like how it looks?” you ask, meaning his waxed pelvic area.
“Mm, I don’t know, haven’t looked. I’ll look tomorrow. M'sleepy,” Peter says, his voice sluggish, eyes barely open as he tries to look at you.
You laugh lightly. “Alright.”
“By the way, I think I have a pain kink,” he adds.
“Stop! Peter, stop!” you laugh and giggle as he pokes at you.
“What? What? What do you mean?” Peter laughs and lunges to wrap his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest as you both laugh.
“S-stop,” you wheeze, “the food is ready. We have to go.”
“Oh? You want food more than to hang with me?” he raises his eyebrow at you.
“Hm, you or food? I think I’ll pick food!” you say and try to laugh and get out of his grip.
“Wow, ok. Food doesn’t save the world, though,” Peter jokes.
“Wanna bet?” you laugh.
Peter laughs and shakes his head, finally letting his arms go lax and let you go. “I don’t know what’s hurt worse, my feelings or my ego,” Peter says in a fake hurt tone and sad look.
Summary:When you and Peter begin working on an assignment for your Child Development class and Morgan overhears your discussions, she starts to think that you and Peter are actually expecting a baby, leading to a lot of confusion and a very pissed off Tony.
Word Count:3.8k
Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, swearing, typos
a/n: just something nice and fluffy before the last chapter of bty comes out and crushes everyone’s souls
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“MJ is so pissed,” Peter laughed as the two of you walked hand in hand into the penthouse of the tower, “she said Flash has already made three misogynistic remarks and eight ‘that’s what she said’ jokes.”
“Oh god,” you chuckled, “she’s gonna kill him.”
Peter’s phone buzzed again, “nine jokes,” he updated with a smile, texting her back a frowny face.
“I’m just glad we got paired together,” you said as you set your backpack on the kitchen counter, “I mean imagine if you got paired with Flash… or worse, if I got paired with Flash.” You grimaced at the thought.
“Flash was ten times more likely to wind up dead if he got paired with you rather than MJ, so I’d say he’d be the one with the short end of the stick there,” Peter joked, setting his bag next to yours as you rooted through the fridge for some juice.
“You’re right,” you agreed with a smile, “besides, it would never come to that because you would do the gentlemanly thing and switch partners with me, right?”
You turned to Peter with apple juice in your hand. Peter wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Aw babe,” he cooed, “no chance in hell.”
You pulled away with a laugh, setting the apple juice on the counter behind you, “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Parker,” you smiled.
Peter’s cheeks flushed pink as you looked up at him and batted your eyelashes. He smiled down at you, flicking his eyes between your gaze and your plush lips, just begging for a kiss.
“What?” you asked coyly, bringing your hand up to the back of his head and playing with the curls that grew there.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Peter muttered as he leaned into you and your temptress ways, “we need to work on our project soon.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, “and?”
“You’redistracting me,” Peter’s breath was minty on your face as he spoke, lips inching closer to yours.
“Am not,” you bit your lip.
Peter leaned in fully, closing the gap between the two of you, but just when his lips met yours—ding! The elevator door opened.
“Hands off my daughter, Underoos,” Tony said, not even looking up from his phone as he walked into the penthouse.
Peter immediately took a huge step away from you, quickly busying himself with getting glasses from the cabinet for the apple juice.
“Dad,” you groaned, walking over to your backpack to get your computer and homework out, “I thought you were in Spain.”
“It was Prague,” Tony corrected, “and I just got off the jet. Is this what you guys do whenever I leave?” He asked, looking up from his phone and pointing between you and Peter with a disgusted look on his face.
“N-No, of course not, Mr. Stark—” Peter began, turning towards his mentor, but you cut him off.
“Only if there’s no one else home,” you shrugged. Peter snapped his head towards you and widened his eyes, “What?” you held your hands up in defense, “There’s no point in lying.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh, “I hate teenagers,” he groaned as he walked away towards the living room.
“That… went surprisingly better than I thought it would,” Peter noted as he set your glass of apple juice next to your notes.
“He’s tired,” you said, “we’ll probably get a stern talking to about protection and all that later. Or better yet, he’ll have Steve give us the lecture,” you grimaced at the thought.
“I can’t go through another one of those talks,” Peter groaned, taking a seat next to you at the counter, “May found the condoms I bought before I got a chance to put them away and every time she mentioned sex during the entire conversation she called it “fornicating”.”
You laughed and elbowed Peter’s arm, “I’ll do you one better,” you proposed, “Steve still refers to it as “fonduing”.” You wiggled your eyebrows at Peter as you said it, making him laugh along with you.
After your laughter died down you pulled up the assignment you were given on your computer, “Okay,” you began, “Mrs. Horn said that we’re getting the dolls on Monday so this weekend we have to have typed out a birth plan, daily schedule, and list of notable child physicians in the area that we could go to.”
“Okay,” Peter nodded, opening his laptop as well, “what do you want to start first?”
“Birth plan probably,” you began typing on a shared document with Peter, “she said it has to be at least one page and include alternate plans for worst-case scenarios. So we should do our regular birth plan and then we could do one like if something bad were to happen.”
You began typing out the plan of what you would want to do if you were really having a baby. Peter watched as you wrote out all of the plans, taking note of how quickly you seemed to figure this all out.
“This feels so weird,” Peter mumbled.
“What do you mean?” you asked, looking over at him.
“It feels kind of real,” he explained, “like, have you thought about this?”
“Not particularly,” you shrugged, “I mean, sometimes. I just think logically I will probably have kids, so it’s good to know ahead of time how I want them to come into the world and how I plan to raise them and all that jazz.”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded.
“Do you want to change anything on here?” you asked, “I mean, it’s your kid too.” you joked, nudging Peter slightly.
“N-No,” Peter shook his head, “it all looks really good,” he smiled, mesmerized by the thought of having children with you and starting a family one day.
Of course, it was way too early to even think of that, let alone make plans for it, but knowing that you also thought about these scenarios made Peter’s heart soar.
He’d always felt—at least in some small part of him—like your feelings for each other were one-sided. Or maybe not one-sided completely, but at least he thought that he loved you more or cared about your relationship more than you did. But this project you’d been given was easing those worries little by little. It might not have meant nearly as much to you, but to Peter, it meant the world to know that you thought of the future like this. Possibly a future with him.
“Oh, and names,” you said, looking up from your laptop to Peter, “one boy name and one girl name since Mrs. Horn is randomly assigning the babies to each pair so we won’t know if we get a boy or a girl until Monday.”
“That’s dumb,” Peter said, “don’t people usually know beforehand? So they can know what clothes to buy and stuff.”
“Yeah, but I guess some people like surprises like that,” you shrugged, “I would want to know as soon as possible.”
“Mhm,” Peter agreed.
“Okay, so names,” you started typing out a section for that on the document, “any ideas?”
“Hm,” Peter thought about it for a moment, “how about Hans, like from Star Wars.”
“Wow,” you nodded, “even for our fake kid I hate it.”
Peter shook his head, “Well what do you want to name it?”
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “even though this is all fake and stuff, it’s good practice. That’s why we took the class—”
“We also both needed another elective credit,” Peter mumbled.
“So I don’t just want to pick some random names and be done with it,” you explained.
“Well,” Peter began, “if I had a girl, I’d want to name her May because May has always been such a big part of my life. I’d want to honor her by doing that.”
“Okay,” you nodded with a smile, “I really like that. Want to add a middle name?”
“You can pick.”
“I like Louise,” you typed it out, “she’s my favorite character in Bob’s Burgers,” you smiled.
“Perfect,” Peter agreed, “and for a boy?”
“Anthony?” you asked, “After my dad, and then Ben for a middle name, after your uncle,” you typed it out as you spoke before looking up at Peter, “what d’you think?”
“I-I really like that,” Peter nodded, a small smile dancing on his lips.
“Okay,” you closed your laptop, “that’s enough for one day. We can look for child physicians tomorrow.”
Ding! As you and Peter finished up your work in the kitchen, Morgan was just coming up to the penthouse, just now returning from school herself.
“Hey little miss,” you smiled when you saw her, but you frowned when you saw the small pout on her face, “what’s wrong?”
“‘M not any good at kindergarten,” Morgan pouted, “I messed up reading during read-aloud time.”
“That’s okay, Morg,” you tried to reassure her, “one mistake doesn’t mean that you’re not good at something. Peter makes mistakes all the time, but he’s still a really good Avenger,” you said, patting your boyfriend on the shoulder.
“Yeah, I always make mistakes,” Peter nodded, “but it helps because then I learn from them and fix them, and then I do better. (Y/N) makes mistake too—”
“Don’t lie to her, babe,” you cooed, pinching Peter’s cheek.
“It’s not the same,” Morgan walked over to you and climb into the barstool next to yours, “everyone laughed at me.”
“Wealways laugh at Peter,” you told her, “remember when he ran into the window?”
A smile crept its way onto Morgan’s face, “Yeah,” she nodded.
“And that’s how Peter learned that we have the windows cleaned every Thursday,” you explained with a smile, “and it was funny.”
“Not for me,” Peter whined from beside you, “I broke my nose.”
Morgan giggled as you began to tickle her, “And he broke his nose,” you laughed, “that’s way worse than messing up read aloud.”
“Yeah,” Morgan agreed, laughing along with you.
“I don’t like how you’ve chosen to console her,” Peter mumbled.
“Aw,” you cooed, placing your hand over Peter’s, “it’s okay, baby. It was just a mistake, right Morg?”
“Mhm,” Morgan nodded.
“And it’s not a big deal or worth being upset over, right?” you nudged Peter.
“Right,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Okay,” you looked down at your sister, “now run along, Peter and I still have some homework to finish. Dad just got home so he’s probably in the living room watching TV.”
“Okay,” Morgan hopped down from the counter and ran off down the hall.
“You’re really good with kids,” Peter said as he looked at you with admiration.
“So are you,” you smiled at him, “I’m glad I can shit on you to make her feel better,” you joked. Peter laughed and wrapped his arm around you, “I hope I can count on you to let me do that when it’s our kids.”
“Anything for you,” Peter said, pressing a kiss to your lips.
You hummed against his lips, before pulling away, “Don’t try to seduce me when my family is in the other room.”
“Hey,” Peter complained, “if anything, it’s you that does the seducing.”
“I’m about to go to my room to finish my homework,” you pulled away from him, “do you really want that to be the last thing you said before we move to my room?”
Peter quickly shook his head, “No, definitely not. I love you, you’re perfect, you can do no wrong.”
“Aw,” you smiled, “you’re too sweet.”
You began to gather your things as did Peter so you could both head to your room.
“Are you excited to take care of a baby for a week?” Peter asked as you began walking down the hall.
“Kind of,” you shrugged, “I mean, I think it’s honestly gonna be one of the most hand-on assignments ever, which I’m not exactly thrilled about because of our busy schedules. Like, when we really have a baby, it would be when we’re ready and can make time for it. Ideally, at least.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat when you said “we”, as in, you and him, having children together. His heart was already so full when he looked at you, he couldn’t imagine the love and joy he’d feel when looking at you round with his baby or holding his children in your arms. This project was truly putting many things into perspective for him and forcing him to think about his future.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “not to mention the crying. It’s gonna be so loud and nonstop.”
“I didn’t pay attention at all when we went over the different cries in class,” you admitted, “so we might have to try everything to get the doll to shut up.” you joked.
“You mean to get our very loved baby to soothe,” Peter corrected, “doesn’t this thing also record us?”
“No,” you shook your head, “I don’t think that’s allowed. If so, Mrs. Horn is gonna be in for a real treat. More like Mrs. Horny—”
“Please stop.”
“Also,” you said, “I haven’t told anyone about this project yet, so nobody’s gonna be prepared for this next week of hell.”
“Well, better get to it,” Peter said, “gotta tell your dad he’s gonna be a grandpa,” he joked.
“Yeah and Morgan that she’ll be a little auntie.”
Little did you and Peter know, you were both passing Morgan’s room, whose door was open a crack. The little girl was playing with her dolls when she heard the two of you pass by. “Gotta tell your dad he’s gonna be a grandpa” “Yeah and Morgan that she’ll be a little auntie.”
Morgan set her dolls down and raced to the door to hear more of the conversation, but you and Peter were already down the hall and in your room.
Her little lip began to wobble at the thought of you and Peter having a baby right now. She didn’t really understand what that meant, but she knew that it meant everything would change and that wasn’t something she was prepared for. She stood in the doorway of her room for a moment before she did what any six-year-old would do when they were about to cry; she ran to her dad.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Morgan cried as she ran into the living room, where Tony was half asleep on the couch with Pepper by his side, who had just gotten home from work. Sam, Bucky, and Natasha were also there, just in the other room discussing details for a mission they were going to go on. One that they planned to invite you and Peter to join.
“Huh?” Tony woke with a start as Morgan jumped into his arms, tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Pepper looked worriedly as Morgan buried her face into her dad’s shirt. She ran her hand up and down the little girl’s back soothingly.
“What’s the commotion?” Sam asked, walking into the room with Natasha and Bucky, “Who hurt our favorite fun-sized Stark?”
“Morg,” Tony tried to calm her down, “what happened? Are you hurt?”
Morgan shook her head quickly, “No,” she cried, “I’m just sad. I don’t want everything to change.”
“What do you mean, sweetie?” Natasha questioned softly.
“(Y/N) a-and Petey are go-gonna have a b-baby,” Morgan sobbed as she spoke, hardly getting the words out, “and t-then everything with change because y-you’ll all be too busy with the new baby!”
Pepper looked up at Tony who looked at Pepper with the same expression of complete confusion.
“Honey,” Pepper cooed, “(Y/N) and Peter are not having a baby. Why would you think that?”
“They said they are!” Morgan yelled defensively, growing more upset now that everyone was looking at her like she was crazy.
Sam looked over and Bucky and Natasha who just shrugged.
“Maybe they said that in the future they might want to have kids,” Natasha said, “but that doesn’t mean that they’re gonna have a baby now.” she tried to explain.
“No,” Morgan shook her head, “they’re having a baby now,” she was very adamant about it.
“Why do you think that, Morg?” Tony asked.
“Because (Y/N) said that she would have to tell me that I’m gonna be an auntie. I don’t want to be an auntie! I want to be the baby.” Morgan began to cry harder, “A-And Peter said that they were g-gonna tell you that y-you’ll be a grandpa! I don’t want you to be a grandpa, I want you to be my daddy still!”
Tony thought about it as Morgan cried in his arms. You and Peter were insanely touchy with each other. He knew for a fact that you and he have already fondued, and he also never had the safe sex talk with either of you yet—part of him hoping that you two weren’t stupid enough to not be safe. But the more Morgan cried in his arms, the more he thought about all the times he caught Peter coming out of your room at two in the morning, all the times Peter had set off the security alarms by sneaking into the tower at one in the morning, all the pieces of dirty laundry that belonged to Peter that also got mixed in with yours, and worst of all—all of the times you texted him letting him know that you were going to stay the night at Peter’s.
“Oh my God,” Tony wrapped his arms around Morgan tighter to make her feel comforted, “she’s right. I think (Y/N) might be pregnant.” he looked over at Pepper who was shaking her head at him.
“Tony,” she chided, “don’t feed into this. Morgan is just having a rough day, and you’re exhausted. This isn’t a good topic for discussion right now. If (Y/N) really was pregnant she’d tell us.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t yet,” Tony defended, “I mean, seriously, do you know how many times I’ve caught them doing it.”
“Hundreds,” Bucky nodded in understanding.
“Don’t even get me started on the fact that Peter talks in his sleep,” Sam began to laugh as he mocked him, “oh (Y/N), right there. Oh, so good baby. Feels so go—”
Natasha quickly cut him off with a slap.
“Oh my God,” Tony groaned, leaning his head to rest on the back of the couch, “this can’t be happening. Please tell me (Y/N) didn’t let this happen—”
“Tony stop,” Pepper scolded him, “you’re being ridiculous.”
“Pep,” Tony nodded down to Morgan who was still crying softly in his arms, “Morgan’s not a liar. I’m sure she heard correctly, and those two teenagers,” he pointed a thumb down the hall to where your room was, “they’re like rabbits. All day and night.”
Natasha grimaced, “Okay, I think this is getting a little out of hand,” she said, “let’s just ask them. Calmly.” she added, seeing the way Tony was already on his feet, ready to let you and Peter have it.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waved her off, already heading towards your bedroom.
“Did you put that you didn’t want an epidural?” Peter questioned as he read over the document, “doesn’t that like, hurt though?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “but I’m tough. I mean, I literally got shot in the shoulder last month and still had to haul your ass to safety.”
“Still,” Peter shurgged, “I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to get the epidural.”
“I don’t want to be all drugged up when I meet my baby,” you explained, “like sometimes people are so dopey from the epidural that they don’t even remember the first moments with their child. I just want to feel it all and remember it all, even if it hurts.”
Tony could hear the last part of your conversation as he stood outside your door, now fully believing what Morgan had been saying.
“(Y/N),” he opened the door to your room, seeing you on your bed with your TV remote in your hand as you flipped through movies on Netflix. Peter was at your desk, typing things down on a document Tony could clearly see titled “Parker-Stark Birth Plan”.
“Yeah?” you didn’t even look away from the TV.
“Oh my God,” Tony’s face dropped, “so it’s true.”
“Huh?” Peter looked up from his laptop.
“What’s true?” you asked, now looking over at Tony.
“Morgan was right, you are pregnant,” Tony had this strange expression on his face. It was a mix of shock, disappointment, and anger all at once, “how could you let this happen?” He looked between you and Peter, “You both are the most irresponsible teenagers I have ever met. How can you possibly consider bringing a child into this world together? Did you rub your two remaining brain cells together to come to this conclusion? Did you even think or consider all of your options? How far along are you?”
“What?” Peter looked over at you, “You’re pregnant?”
“No!” you shook your head, “I’m not! Why would you think that?” you looked at your dad.
“Don’t lie to me,” Tony warned, “I can see the guilt all over your faces.”
“That’s Cheeto dust, and it’s only on Peter’s face,” you joked.
“(Y/N), not the time,” Peter said, closing his laptop and wiping his face off with his sleeve.
“You two are ridiculous. You can’t even be serious about this,” Tony threw his hands up in the air, “I can’t believe how irresponsible you two have proven yourselves to be. I put a lot of trust in you guys to be mature and strong leaders and then you go and do something like this—”
“I’mnotpregnant!”
“Then why the hell are you making a birth plan and planning to tell me I’m gonna be a grandpa?!”
You and Peter both looked at each other and a moment before bursting out laughing. You were clutching your stomach and slapping your hand onto the bed as you laughed while Peter held his fist over his mouth to muffle his laughter.
“Would someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?”
“It’s for a school project,” you laughed out, “Peter and I are taking care of a robot baby next week and we have to do some paperwork before we get the baby.”
“We wanted to tell you beforehand because it’s a really annoying baby,” Peter explained, “it’s gonna cry a lot.”
“And the birth plan has to reflect our own ideas on what we would want to do, so that’s why we’ve been discussing it.”
Peter opened up his laptop to show Tony the document. After Tony skimmed it, he switched taps to the dropbox where it would be turned in, “It’s for our Child Development class. It’s the final project before the exam.”
“I’m not actually pregnant, dad,” you giggled, still trying to catch your breath from laughing so much, “we’re not thatdumb.”
“Yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter nodded, “I have a strong pull ou—”, you quickly threw a pillow at your boyfriend’s face, cutting him off from saying anything else.
It’s Winter in New York City. Not that movie magic kind of Winter that reeks of mistletoe and Hallmark channel cliches. No, it’s no longer the Holiday Season and everyone is back to school after Winter Break. Peter Parker is happy to be back because being back means being able to see you again. Though, something is different about you but he just can’t place it.
“What is it?”
“Y/N…”
“Yeah?” Ned looked in the same direction as Peter, who, suddenly self conscious, turned his friend back around to face him. “What is it?”
“Don’t, don’t look! I just…” Peter found that his eyes trailed back over to where you talking with MJ. Your eyes were bright, hands gesturing about you as your friend shared you into a passion. Despite your movements, Peter found himself drawn back to your smile.
“Something’s different,” he finished, “but I don’t know what.”
“It’s only been like two weeks. It was Christmas literally a few days ago.” Peter glanced warily at Ned before he looked back to you. You were still smiling. The sight made his chest tighten, stole his breath directly from his lungs. “Pete?”
“You remember Homecoming,” Peter pointed out as he met Ned’s eyes, “that all happened in a week and I almost died. Twice! Anything could have happened over break.”
Peter let his eyes wander back to you. Whatever MJ was discussing with you was enthralling. You were completely consumed, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Slightly hidden under all of the layers of Winter clothing you were wearing, you looked warm, aflamed and bright. Suddenly, you threw your head back, laughing at something MJ had said.
The sound sent a shiver down Peter’s spine that he tried to pass off as a response to the cold. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his chilled hands and adjusted the strap of his backpack that dug into his shoulder. Ned blinked at him a few times, too close of a friend to not notice Peter’s nervous ticks.
Eventually, Ned glanced over in your direction too. “Well, Y/N seemed alright. We had Advanced Geometry together and we talked.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Really? Did anything happen?”
“From what Y/N said, your Winter break was way more eventful, Spiderman.”
Author’s Note: I am sorry that this is out so late. I swear that I wrote this at about 6:00, but I did so on my phone and didn’t get to my laptop to edit it until just now. It’s late, but I hope you enjoy it even still.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we’ve no place to go
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
You’re sitting on the couch in your boyfriend’s apartment cuddled up against him in front of the electric fireplace, and you’re warm, and comfortable, and there’s no where you’d rather be in this moment, but when you look out the window, you’re afraid you might have to be somewhere else.
“Peter,” you say, grabbing his attention. “It’s snowing. Hard.”
Peter glances out the window and frowns.
“That looks bad. Do you think that you can make it home in that?” He asks you, but looking at the expression on his face, you don’t think that even if you said you thought you could he would be comfortable with it.
Before you can answer, however, your phone rings. You jump a little, and Peter laughs at you a little, but you pull it out nonetheless. Looking at the screen, you purse your lips. “Mom”. You quickly answer the phone call.
“Hello?”
“Y/N, are you alright?” Your mother’s voice sounds frantic but relieved.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Have you looked outside?” She exclaims. “It’s crazy out there. Are you still at Peter’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you ask May if you can stay the night? I don’t want you braving this storm trying to get home.”
“Yeah. Just a sec.” You pull the phone a little ways away from your ear and call to Peter’s aunt who is in the kitchen. “May?”
“Hmm?” She asks, turning around to face you.
“Mom wants to know if it’s alright for me to stay the night. She doesn’t want me out in the storm.”
May nods. “Of course, dear. Let her know that’s fine. You can stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” you smile at her before raising the phone back to your ear.
“May says it’s alright,” you let your mom know.
“Okay,” she says, her voice sounding relieved. “Let her know I said thank you.”
“Mom says ‘thanks’,” you call out to May.
“Alright. Well, stay safe, Y/N.”
“You too.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
It doesn’t show signs of stopping
And I’ve brought some corn for popping
And the lights are turned way down low
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
After the decision was made for you to stay the night with Peter and May, the three of you decided to watch a movie before bed. You and May made hot chocolate while Peter popped some popcorn. After the food and drink was all taken care of, the three of you settle down on the couch; May sat on one end, you and Peter on the other.
Once everyone got situated, the three of you begin to debate what movie to watch. Peter votes for Star Wars, but you and May vote for a Christmas movie. Accepting his defeat, Peter recommends “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and the three of you settle in for the night.
When we finally kiss goodnight
How I’ll hate going out in the storm!
But if you’ll really hold me tight
All the way home I’ll be warm
After the movie ends, May calls it a night, and calls it a night for Peter and you, too.
“Alright, love birds, it’s time for bed. Y/N, you can take Peter’s bed, and Peter you take the couch,” she directs. “Y/N, I’ll help you find something more comfortable for you to sleep in.” You and Peter agree, and with a huff, you stand up.
As you’re walking out, Peter hollers at you.
“Y/N!”
“What?” You turn to face him.
“You forgot something.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” Peter hops over the couch and runs over to you real quick. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Goodnight. I love you.”
You smile, and peck his lips once more before repeating the sentiment.
summary:it’s the hottest day of the year, your air conditioning is broken, and all you and your roommate slash best friend slash crush have are a box of cherry flavored popsicles and months of pent up sexual frustration each other
warnings:smut. smut smut smut smut lots of smut and, oh yeah, smut! praise kink, (mild) dom!peter, fingering, (brief) dry humping, ice play? popsicle play? also swearing, no use of a condom because mc is on the pill but use protection y'all. best friends 2 lovers, college roommate au
author’s note: inspired very much so by the sudden increase in weather :) my first time writing smut btw so apologies if it’s bad, let me know what u think and happy reading angels! ♡
“Oh, you have got to be shittingme,” you practically yell in the middle of the freezer aisle, wincing when you spot the concerned face of a mother covering the ears of her toddler.
The apologetic look you offer her quickly turns sour when you notice the mother-daughter duo is the reason for your outburst. The reason you’re about to tear off the door to the grocery store freezer and snap it in two like a graham cracker.
They took the last box of lemonade popsicles.
You fight an internal debate, the dehydration from today being the record-breaking hottest day of the year almost swaying your decision not to snatch the box right out of the toddler’s hands, before reluctantly picking up the cherry flavored ones.
Oh well, you think, at least your roommate Peter gets his favorite flavor. It’s a little hard to look on the bright side however, when your jeans are sticking to you from perspiration, clinging on like a second skin. Those, and the ill-chosen long sleeve shirt, are the reason you practically run to the self-service checkout counter in a hurry to get home.
