Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader Request: Peter parker x reader where she’s tony’s daughter and peter used to bully her in sophmore and freshmen year and he sees her coming down the stairs at headquarters and they get into an argument in the middle of a mission and Y/N saves peter and they confess in the rain and ASDFGHJL IDK Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of death Words:1.8k A/N: I really liked this request! The ending is a little abrupt because I didn’t know how to end it without rambling but I hope I did your idea justice! Ps. I really suck at coming up with fic titles lmaoo
Peter Parker. Just the sound of his name makes your blood boil. The boy who was loved by most of the school and half the world is the same boy you hate with every fiber of your being. Even your own father praised Peter’s actions, blindsided by the brains the teenager possesses.
Everything about him makes you sick. The way he never shuts up, his constant pop culture references nobody gives a damn about, and his desperate attempts to gain approval from your dad. You have to bite your tongue just to keep in your frustrated screams.
You thought you’d forget about Peter once you dropped out of Midtown. Sure, you told everyone you couldn’t handle the stress high school forced upon you and science and technology just wasn’t your “thing” anymore. However, this was far from the truth. You loved Midtown, you loved your best friend Mj. Which, last you heard, she didn’t take your absence too well. Now, she usually sticks to herself trying her best to be a part of the background.
But anyways.
No, you could handle the stress and science still holds a place in your heart. Peter Parker was the only reason you left public school and now learn from the comfort of your home, the Avenger’s compound.
You too were once blinded by Peter’s awkward charm and geeky aura. You always thought Peter was threatened by how smart you actually were. You may not have been as smart as Peter, but in reality, who is? Peter was the top student at Midtown and you found your spot at number two.
You suppose Peter wanted to remain the best and you were in no place to compete for the title. Only, he didn’t get this message. The rivalry you didn’t want began your first semester of freshman year. You didn’t want to rip away his beloved title. You simply wanted to learn and be a normal teenager instead of Tony Starks daughter.
And for a while you were. A teenager who excelled in each of her classes, had late night homework sessions with Mj and early morning coffee runs, had stupid crushes and went to a few parties. You went on college visits and received scholarship letters all in your first two years, you had a life planned after graduation that didn’t include the Avengers.
You gave all that up when Peter’s words kept getting harsher with each passing day. His sly remarks, his patronizing tone, and the way he flaunted how much better he was than you was suffocating. Slowly, his comments ate you alive and you didn’t want to compete for your education.
So, you left.
The day Peter came waltzing back into your life, was the worst by far. You couldn’t ignore the way your dad gripped onto his shoulder as he gave Peter the tour around the compound. Tony talked to Peter in a way he’s never talked to you. He saw something in Peter that you fear he still doesn’t see in you.
-
Your fists collide with the punching bag before you. Sweat clings to your forehead and drips down your neck as your workout comes to an end. Natasha stands beside you, passing you a dry towel after you throw your last punch. “Great work today,” She comments, dropping her hand back to her side once you take the cloth.
“Thanks,” You mumble, patting the sweat dry and snatching your water bottle from the ground.
“You should shower before your studies begin,” She says, following you towards the gym’s exit. “Rodgers is running over some history with you,” She says as you reach for the handle. Nat’s hand quickly catches yours before you could pull the metal door open, “Y/N,” She says calmly, “Peter’s here today.”
“Of course he is,” You grumble, running your hand over damp fly-aways, trying your best to smooth down your hair.
“Just play nice,” She warns removing her hand from the knob, letting you pass with ease.
“Just play nice?” You scoff to yourself in a voice all too high to belong to Natasha. You stomp down the stairs, chucking your water bottle through the air out of pent-up anger.
The plastic container never touches the ground. White webs enclose around the bottle, yanking it back to the boy you’ve come to loathe. “Drop something?” Peter smiles, brushing off the remaining gunk and attempting to pass back your belonging.
“Clearly, my actions had a purpose.” You growl, shoving past his slim figure, not bothering to take back what’s yours.
“I was just trying to help,” He almost whispers. His words stop you in your tracks. You whirl around to face him once more, ready to smother him in suppressed anger.
“I don’t needyour help.” You snap, only earning a slight chuckle from Peter.
“You’re just like your father, you know that?” He shakes his head, calmly setting the bottle on the last step.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your hands find their way to your hips, challenging him to continue.
“You think you’re too good for anyone’s help. You never take accountability for your mistakes, you think you’re smarter than everyone, and you think your better than everyone.” Rage flows through Peter’s veins turning his cheeks red after he spits each word.
“Me? Me thinking I’m better than everyone? Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Parker.” Your cackle echoes through the nearly empty room, “Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you’d realize”-
“Y/N,” A voice booms from the stairwell, “That’s enough.” Steve makes his way towards the two of you, shield in hand. “There’s a mission at hand, suit up. Both of you.” Steve’s stern eyes look between you and Peter, waiting for you to follow is orders.
“But I have class today,” You begin, your dad rarely lets you skip your schooling unless it’s important.
“Well, luckily there’ll be a tomorrow if we finish the mission.” You open your mouth to protest but Cap beats you to it. “Go, now.”
Within the next hour, you’re covered in alien goop and out of breath. You shoot Earth’s imposters with ease, secretly keeping count. Some try grabbing your limbs but Natasha trained you too well for you to even stumble. Your fists connect with so many creatures your knuckles turn raw.
Once your corner of the city is clear of nuisances you finally take a moment to look around and catch a breath. From above, you see Peter swinging between buildings, shooting the creatures and leaving them stuck to window panes.
Suddenly, an alien bursts through a window, tackling Peter. Peter shoots webs swinging frantically to rid his attacker but to no use. The two of them crash onto the asphalt sending you running to Peter’s aid.
The alien tries to rip open Peter’s suit, but when his claws can’t tamper with the technology, his grey hands clamp around his throat. You can hear Peter gagging as you pick up speed. You tackle the alien as Peter gasps behind you. Your legs straddle the creature’s hips as he thrashes beneath you. Within moments, your gun is drawn and the trigger is pulled, coating yourself in slimy, blue blood.
When you stand, you offer your hand to Peter. Hesitantly, he accepts your offer. “Don’t let this become a habit,” You joke as you help your nemesis to his feet. Once his feet are firm on the ground, you turn to find more aliens to attack, leaving him alone in the destruction of his corner.
-
You stand outside, rubbing your knuckles in efforts to soothe the pain. Your body aches from the fighting. You know you should be used to it by now, but sometimes missions still get the best of you. Thunder roars overhead, miles away from where you stand. But you know, there’s a big storm coming.
Peter stands beside you, his presence sudden and for once comforting. Neither one of you speaks for a moment until he feels the need to blabber. “Thank you,” He whispers. You expect there to be more, usually, when he talks there is, you have to wait a good five minutes before you can get a word in.
“Don’t mention it,” You shrug as the first few raindrops fall from the sky.
“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look away from the dark sky beyond you, Peter takes his cue to keep talking. “What did I do to make you hate me so much?” He whispers. You look towards him, dumbfounded.
“You really have no idea?” You laugh to yourself, nothing could be clearer why you despised the boy. “You made high school a living hell, Peter.” You admit, “You spent two years degrading me, patronizing me. You made me feel as if I didn’t belong in such a smart school. Like, I get it, you’re like the smartest kid in the world. But Jesus Christ you don’t have to be a dick when someone doesn’t understand something you do.”
Tom rubs a hand across his face, turning away from you with a huff. “God I’m an idiot,” He mumbles into his hands.
“Glad you’re finally admitting it,” Rain starts to pour, soaking your shirt’s in tiny droplets, “I think I’ll head in for the night,” You say turning away from the awkward situation.
“No, Y/N, wait,” He calls after you, quickly grabbing your wrist. “I’m sorry, those weren’t my intentions,” His hair turns a few shades darker as water clings to each strand. “I was trying to impress you.” A warm blush crawls to his cheeks as soon as his words fill the space around you.
“You were trying to impress me… By being an asshole?” It comes out more of a question as you attempt to follow his thoughts.
“No,” He groans, running his fingers through his wet hair. “I wanted to impress you with being smart. I wanted to prove to you that I could do incredible things,”-
“If you wanted to impress me with something cool, you could’ve just told me you were Spiderman.” You chuckle, “I mean I already knew, but still.”
“I wanted you to like me for who I was, not what I could do.” He explains, “I know it came off as bragging and I’m sorry. You’re just so pretty and I couldn’t even think straight when you were around and then just one day you were gone and I’ve always heard that girls like bad boys who don’t care about anything and”- Peter was back to his normal, rambling self. This time, his jumbled words don’t annoy you, instead, they make you laugh.
“Peter,” You whisper, halting his words. Before either of you could think, your lips touch his. It’s soft, it’s slow, it’s everything you never thought you wanted but everything you’ve ever dreamed of. When you pull away, he’s grinning at you.
Summary: After ten years of not seeing Peter Parker, the two of you are reunited at Felicia Hardy’s charity event, and you both discover that much has changed.
Warnings: lil bit of angst, swearing, fluff, mentions of character death
Words: 1992
Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!
A/N: I told myself I wouldn’t wouldn’t write a sequel to All Too Well, but I folded against peer pressure so here you guys go! I hope you all enjoy it as much as the first part, and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx
You pulled your coat tighter around your body as you trailed behind your parents at a snail’s pace, reluctant to be here. You hadn’t gone with your mom and dad to the church service because you felt that it would have been inappropriate under previous circumstances. However, your mom and dad had convinced you to go to the churchyard with them.
That was where you saw him, his cheeks were red from the chilling wind and there were tear streaks on his cheeks. You guessed that Peter had been out here for a while. You bit your lip as you watched him with his Aunt, and you longed to share your condolences with Peter but he wouldn’t want to hear it from you.
“I think you should go and say something, Y/N,” your mom nudged her arm against yours and you glanced at her with a sigh.
“We’re not friends anymore, mom, come on. Let’s go,” you glanced at Peter one more time before you turned and walked away.
It felt like you were walking away from Peter Parker forever, but that was what you wanted wasn’t it? You once told Peter that you never wanted to see him or Spider-Man ever again.
10 Years Later…
You fidgeted with your red floor length dress as you walked into the huge roof top bar where the Hardy’s were holding their charity function.
“Right, we put in an appearance to be polite and then we’re out of here,” your dad groaned as he rubbed his temples.
You rolled your eyes, your parents thought that the Hardy’s were snobby and entitled but you liked them well enough, especially Felicia. Speaking of Felicia, the beautiful blonde woman came sauntering towards you in one of her usual slinky black dresses and diamonds around her neck.
“Y/N!” she grinned as she greeted you with a flute of sparkling pink champagne, which was very on-brand of her, “how are you?” you smiled as you took the champagne.
“I’m good thank you, how are you?”
She shrugged as you walked to the balcony which had an amazing view of the city below, “these parties are exhausting but it’s for a good cause so I can cope with them,” she grinned as she took a sip of her champagne.
You laughed as you leaned your hip against the balcony railing, you wouldn’t mind having a huge party nearly every weekend, “you always say that, but out of everyone you always seem to have the best time.”
Felicia smirked at your words, “true, at least I didn’t have to organise it this time, Jameson from The Daily Bugle organised it, he’s got one of his photographers to document it. In fact, here’s Jameson’s photographer now.”
Your mouth went dry as you stared at the tall handsome man who was making his way outside, he wore that black suit so well, like he was made for it. With his artfully tousled hair and his bright brown eyes, he looked like an absolute dream. Over the past ten years he had only seemed to grow more handsome.
Felicia smirked at him as he walked closer to the pair of you and she gestured between you and Peter, “Parker, this is…” she trailed off when she noticed Peter staring at you with polite shock etched on his face.
“Y/N.”
“Hi, Peter,” you smiled as you took a huge gulp of your champagne.
“You guys know each other?” Felicia asked as she looked between the two of you and raised an eyebrow.
Peter nodded, running a hand through his hair, “we went to high school together.”
“Well, well,” Felicia smirked, “I’ll leave you two to catch up, I’m gonna go and see where Flash has got to,” she waved at the both of you before she walked back into the party.
Peter smiled at you, “hey.”
“Hi,” you flushed, the atmosphere suddenly feeling very tense.
“Look, Y/N,” he began with a sigh and you glanced at the gorgeous man who was biting his lip and looking very guilty. You knew at once what he was going to say.
“Peter, don’t you dare.”
Peter looked at you with wide, shocked eyes, “what?”
“Are you about to apologise?”
“Well, yeah,” Peter chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
You shook your head as you placed your hand on his arm, “you don’t have to apologise.”
The man frowned, “but I hurt you.”
He had hurt you, you weren’t about to disagree with that but you deemed it time to put the past behind you, “you did, but Peter, we were kids and I handled it the wrong way, a knee-jerk reaction I guess. I know it’s been a long time but please, can we start again?”
Peter grinned, looking very relieved as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, “of course, Y/N. How have you been?”
Over Peter’s short break from work you learned that he went to college in the city – where he met Felicia – and he’d gone on to work as a photographer for The Daily Bugle. It seemed like the perfect job for him, in high school he was hardly seen without a camera. In turn, he learned that you had been living in the South of France before recently moving back to the city because you missed your family. It felt great to have Peter back in your life and you had the best time catching up with him but something gnawed at your conscience.
“Peter, I’m so sorry about what happened to Gwen,” you smiled sadly as you took a sip of your champagne.
Peter nodded as he raked a hand through his hair and he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, “I saw your folks at the funeral.”
The guilt in your heart only seemed to increase, “I came to the churchyard but I didn’t let you see me, that’s why I didn’t come to the funeral because I didn’t want to upset you by being there.”
Peter shook his head, “it would have been good to see you, Y/N.”
“Parker!” a shout came from inside of the bar, interrupting the conversation between you and Peter.
“Fuck! That’s my cue, I should go. I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he pressed a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he ran into the party to appease his boss.
You walked into the bar and met Felicia with a grin and she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “y’know, you and Peter would make a pretty cute couple,” you scoffed at your friend’s words but you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up.
At the end of the night, you said goodbye to Felicia, promising that you’d meet up with her again soon, and you walked over to where Peter was sitting at an empty table, going through his photographs of the night. You didn’t notice his disgruntled expression until you sat opposite him.
“Hey, that isn’t the face of an award winning photographer,” you laughed.
Peter looked up at you with a dead pan look, “ha, ha. That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” he sighed, “I’m gonna have to hail a cab, I’ve missed my last fucking train.”
Your eyes bugged out, was he crazy? “you can’t! A cab is gonna cost the money you made tonight.”
Peter rolled his eyes with the ghost of a smirk on his lips, “well, I guess that I could swing home.”
That was an even worse idea, “have you been drinking?” you quirked an eyebrow and folded your arms. Peter nodded with a sheepish look on his face, “yeah, you’re not swinging home,” you hesitated as you came up with an idea, though it might have been the worst idea you’d had all night, “come on, you can stay the night at my place.”
Peter’s eyes widened as he began to stutter and stammer, you were sure that he was going to refuse but his reply surprised you, “are you sure?” he asked and you ruffled his hair, it felt soft beneath your fingertips.
“Positive, come on.”
Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you set up the spare bed, making sure that Peter would be as comfortable as possible. It was strange, before tonight you thought that you’d never see Peter Parker again and now he was sleeping in your spare bed. With a nervous smile, you turned back to Peter and gestured at the set of drawers.
“There should be some clothes in there that should fit.”
“Thanks, Y/N.”
“You’re welcome, let me know if you need anything,” you smiled and Peter nodded, his brown eyes sparkling.
“Night, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Pete,” you grinned as you got yourself off to bed.
After a good night’s rest, you decided to make your favourite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup and rashers of bacon. Just as you were serving up the pancakes, Peter came padding into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in different directions and he was bleary eyed, he looked adorable.
“Morning, Pete, did you sleep alright?” you smiled as you made a pot of coffee.
Peter shot you a sleepy smile that made you flush, “I had an amazing sleep, thank you, your spare bed is so comfortable. Thank you for letting me stay.”
“No problem, want some breakfast?” you smiled, placing a plate of pancakes and maple syrup on the table and he groaned.
“They look so good.”
“Dig in,” you pushed the plate towards him and he shot you a grateful smile, there was a comfortable silence as you both ate your breakfast and drank your coffee.
Peter broke the silence about ten minutes later, “you know we should go and get dinner together sometime.”
You felt your cheeks heat up and you had to tell yourself that he wasn’t asking you out, it was just going to be you two grabbing some food together. You were not about to get your hopes up and make the same mistake as you did in high school, “sure thing.”
Peter shot you a winning smile as he stood up from the kitchen table with his empty plate, placing it in the sink, “thank you for breakfast,” he was so close to you that you could see the syrup shining on his lips and your stomach did somersaults.
“Sure,” you trailed off when his warm hand cupped your cheek and you wanted to lean into it but instead you looked up at him, blinking rapidly, “what are you doing?” you murmured.
“Well, I was thinking of kissing you.”
You swallowed and licked your lips, noticing his eyes following the movement of your tongue, you felt like a love struck teenager all over again, “do you really think that’s a good idea, regarding our previous history?” you asked and he smiled, his thumb rubbing along your jaw.
“Things are different now.”
You knew he was right, things were different and you wanted to kiss him, really you did but you were still reluctant, “what if I don’t want you to kiss me?”
Immediately he let his hand drop from your cheek and he took a step back, “if you don’t want me to kiss you, then I won’t Y/N, of course I won’t,” he smiled.
You missed his touch and his warmth at once and you bit your lip as you looked at him, weighing up all the pros and cons in your head, “oh, what the hell,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, delving your fingers into his hair.
Peter leaned down to kiss you and you sighed against his lips as you tasted the sticky maple syrup and your hands came to rest on his chest. This could turn out to be the worst mistake that you’d ever make but as Peter deepened the kiss, you were surprised to find that you just didn’t care. All you could focus on was Peter’s lips against yours.
Summary: You’ve never felt like you belong, your parents certainly treat you like you don’t belong. Then the absolute impossible happens which leads you to a handsome, grieving boy, and you realise that home isn’t a place. It’s a person.
Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of character death, ooc, swearing
Words:2112
Disclaimer:This is set a couple of years after tasm 2 but it may still have some nwh spoilers so read at your own risk, and this gif doesn’t belong to me!
A/N:Hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx
Your first few weeks in the new, New York was pretty uneventful, you had yet to find yourself a job, you didn’t want any old shitty job, you wanted to be happy in your work. And, plus, you could afford to wait for a job that you’d actually like. You’d recently had an interview with a local newspaper called, ‘The Daily Bugle,’ to be one of their writers. The guy in charge, J. Jonah Jameson was kind of a crank but he didn’t ask too many questions, thankfully.
What would you have said if he had questioned you anyway? You couldn’t exactly say, ‘hey buddy, don’t mind me, I think I just zipped in from another universe,’ that was one sure way to get yourself locked up in the psych ward.
It was too late for you to enrol in university but you’d started going to night classes for criminal psychology, which had been your major when you lived in the old New York. You’d made some new friends who felt like family already, in such a short amount of time and you’d never had that before.
On a less positive note, you hadn’t seen Peter since he helped you move into your apartment, he hadn’t text or called, and to be honest, you didn’t want to bother him.
You shivered in the cold wind as you walked down the street, you should have put a jacket on but it really would have ruined your outfit. Betty was standing outside the bar, smoking a cigarette, and you rolled your eyes with a smile. Ever since you met her she was always saying that she was going to quit. That seemed to go out of the window every time she drank.
“Hey, Y/N!” Betty grinned as you walked up to her, “you look cute!” she pulled you into a hug, smelling like cigarette smoke and that mint gum she was always chewing.
“Thank you! You do too,” you smiled at her before turning your attention to the bar behind her, “so this is a dive bar, huh?” you asked with a raised eyebrow, you didn’t have to go into a dive bar to know that it wasn’t your scene.
Betty nodded, her eyes widening, “you’ve never been to a dive bar before?” when you shook your head she gasped dramatically, “so, let me get this straight, you’ve never been to a bar with a disgusting sticky floor and spent all night playing pool and drinking shit beer?”
“Yeah, I’ve definitely never been to one,” you fought hard to supress your shudder but you were unsuccessful.
Betty laughed at the expression on your face as she put out her cigarette, “well, sweetie, I’m afraid being friends with me is going to change that,” she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and steered you into the bar.
Betty was right, the floor was horribly sticky and the music was loud enough to shake the walls. But, that wasn’t what drew your attention, what did draw your attention was the handsome boy with fluffy brown hair nursing a pint of beer with a lost look in his puppy dog brown eyes. He looked so sad.
“Peter?” you called out as you walked up to him and he looked up with a raised brow, “Peter hey,” you smiled and gave him a little wave.
Peter gave you a polite nod as he took a sip of his beer, “Y/N, how are you?” he asked with the ghost of a smile on his face.
“I’m good, how are you?” you asked, twisting the ring on your finger, something you did when you were feeling nervous. You had been imagining what it would be like to see him again, you just didn’t know it would be this nerve wracking.
“I’m good.”
“Y/N, how good to see you again.” Felicia Hardy sneered as she slipped in the seat next to Peter and you had this nagging feeling that you were intruding.
You looked between her and Peter, he looked somewhat uncomfortable as the beautiful woman wrapped an arm around his bicep. Her long red nails tapped against Peter’s skin as she smirked at you.
“I’ll see you later, Peter,” you sighed and turned back to Betty without waiting for a reply.
“I saw that longing look, Y/N and I wouldn’t go there if I were you, I went to high school with Peter and he hasn’t dated anyone since Gwen.”
“Who’s Gwen?” you asked, waving at Flash who’d already set the pool table up.
“His girlfriend, she died a few years ago and Peter blames himself, though I don’t know why. They were disgustingly in love, they definitely would have married young and have had five kids or something. But, he hasn’t dated anyone since she died so I wouldn’t waste your time unless you want your heart broken.”
Your heart hurt on Peter’s behalf, you had no idea that he had suffered so much at such a young age. You glanced back at Peter to find that Felicia quite literally had her claws into him. They must have a solely physical arrangement.
“Why the long face, Y/N? It’s Friday night,” Flash chuckled as he held out a pool cue and you took it with a smile.
Before you could reply, Betty beat you to it, “we just saw Peter Parker.”
Flash nodded as he leaned across the pool table to take his first shot, “Parker’s a good guy.”
Betty sighed and bumped her arm against yours, “she’s got a crush on him.”
Flash’s eyes flickered over to you so fast that you were kind of embarrassed, “yeah, I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
“Yeah I told her.”
“I wish you would stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” you sighed, “and I do not have a crush on him!” you protested, rolling your eyes at Betty’s disbelieving look, “I don’t!”
You tried to have a good night with your friends and you did for the most part. However, the talk of Gwen and Peter had put a damper on things, you couldn’t believe how much he’d been through, losing someone so important to him. You decided to leave a little earlier than planned, rejecting your friend’s offers to come with you, you still wanted them to have a good night. You knew that Betty was going to end up in bed with Flash, even though she’d said a million times that she wouldn’t go there again.
You hadn’t drunk all that much so you put your warm pyjamas on, got yourself a hot chocolate and sat out on your balcony with a blanket to watch New York’s nightlife. You were out on the balcony for twenty minutes before a figure in red and blue zipped across the skyline. Your heart soared and you smiled as the hero came to land on your balcony.
“Hey, Spidey,” you grinned as you took a sip of your hot chocolate.
“It’s, Y/N right?” his voice was muffled by his mask but you could still hear the smile in his voice.
You laughed, “yes, do you remember the names of all the women you save?”
“The pretty ones certainly make a lasting impression,” you flushed at his words, “shit, I’m sorry that was a real dick thing to say.
You shrugged and shook your head, “it’s okay. I realise that I never thanked you for saving my life.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Spider-Man waved away your thanks.
“I do, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, so thank you,” you smiled.
“You’re welcome,” he nodded before he fiddled with his fingers, “so um, how are you feeling?”
You smiled, it was so sweet that he seemed to care, “much better, though I do have a wicked scar so I certainly won’t be wearing a bathing suit for a while. Thank you for asking though,” you hesitated as you looked up at the masked hero, “what are you doing here, Spider-Man?” you were merely curious.
“I was just in the neighbourhood but I probably should go,” he glanced over his shoulder.
It was a strange sensation but you didn’t want to see him go, “wait! I didn’t mean it like that, you can stay for a while.”
“I know, I know, don’t worry but I really do have to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he zipped away on his webs before you could return his farewell. You were left staring after the superhero with a frown on your face.
——————————-
Monday morning came far too quickly for Peter Parker, he could hardly keep his eyes open as he walked into the elevator, draining half of his coffee in one. He had an assignment to finish for the newspaper last night so he worked quite late into the night and he’d done a round of fighting crime. He just wanted to go back to bed and sleep for about five years.
“Oh hold the door!” he heard a woman call out as the elevator doors began to close and he pressed the button to keep them open.
The woman ran into the elevator and on further inspection, Peter realised that it was Y/N in formal attire. What was she doing here? Y/N looked up at him with a grin, “thank you so much…” she trailed off “Peter, hey!” she laughed nervously, “I promise I’m not following you.”
Peter smirked, “dang it, I was so hoping,” he smiled and Y/N laughed, looking more relaxed, “what are you doing here if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It’s my first day, I’m really excited,” she looked so happy, that Peter had to smile.
“Great,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” Y/N looked up at him with a frown, she looked so pretty when she did that, somehow.
“Nothing, nothing,” he shook his head with a sigh. He’d done a good job of staying away from her up until a week ago when he decided to drop her a visit as Spider-Man, and now they were going to be working in the same place. Would he never escape her? He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.
As they got up into the office, Jameson popped his head out of his own office and nodded at Y/N, “Y/L/N, Parker, you’re on babysittin’ duty today,” he nodded over at Y/N who scoffed but Jameson didn’t seem to hear it as he retreated back into his office.
“What a lovely man,” Y/N laughed as she bit her lip and glanced at Peter, “I’m sorry that you have to be lumbered with me.”
Peter shrugged, he didn’t mind, “it’s cool, just uh grab a desk I guess. Jameson give you an assignment?” he asked, raking a hand through his hair.
Y/N nodded with a smile, “yeah, I won’t need to bother you for anything, Peter,” Peter’s chest clenched with guilt at her words and he was about to apologise before Y/N walked behind his desk and gasped, “did you take those photographs?”
Peter followed her gaze and smiled as he looked down at the polaroid’s of Spider-Man that were scattered across his desk, “uh yeah, I did.”
“They’re really good, Peter,” Y/N smiled, “I met him again, the other week,” she nodded at the photographs.
“Oh yeah?” Peter asked casually, “what did you think of him?”
“I think he’s great, a real hero,” Y/N grinned at him as she walked over to a free desk, and Peter couldn’t help but feel smug.
A couple of hours into the day, Peter glanced up when someone walked into the office and he saw with the upmost surprise that it was Aunt May and she was carrying a brown paper bag. Peter stood up from his desk and walked around to meet his Aunt, “what are you doing here?” he asked, giving her a hug.
“You forgot your lunch sweetheart,” she smiled and placed the bag on his desk.
Peter laughed, “what would I do without you?”
“Oh you’d die of hunger,” she laughed and glanced around the room, her eyes landing on Y/N, “hello, Y/N!”
Y/N beamed as she stood up, “hi, Mrs Parker, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too darling,” she grinned before she glanced between Peter and Y/N, Peter could almost see the cogs turning in her head, “would you like to come for dinner at the weekend, Y/N?”
Y/N grinned at the same time as Peter sighed, he loved his Aunt so much but he wished that she wouldn’t meddle, Y/N’s smile fell slightly as she glanced at Peter before looking at Aunt May, “I’m sorry Mrs Parker, I’ve got plans this weekend.”
“Oh that’s a shame, maybe another time then.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she forced a smile as she sat back down in her desk chair.
As soon as Aunt May laughed, Eddie Brock snickered over at Peter, “bro, you’re just so adorable with your Aunt bringing you a packed lunch and all.”
Peter usually ignored Eddie but today he glared at him, “or maybe I’ve just got someone who cares about me, though I wouldn’t expect you to know what that’s like,” he replied savagely before he glanced over at Y/N who seemed determined not to look at him.
warnings: explicit language, smut (18+! fingering, finger sucking lol), smoking, mentions of drug use
summary: you learn about peter’s brief sexual history, and the two of you make an arrangement
a/n: the moment you’ve all been waiting for! i wanna say thanks really quick for all the love so far hehe i appreciate how much you fw this series, there’s more to come and as always enjoy <3
peter’s lips chase yours as he lays you down on your bed, your legs parted so he’s between them. you bring a hand up to the back of his neck to guide the kiss. your teeth graze his bottom lip, testing the waters to see what he likes. peter hums permissively, so you do it again. his fingers run up and down the bare skin of your lower back, where your shirt bunches up. it gives you a tingly feeling.
how did he get so good at this?
you hook a leg around peter’s waist, drawing his body flush against yours. your skirt flips up. peter lets his hands travel your body as you suck on his bottom lip. your nipples are poking out of the thin material of your top, which garners his attention. he wants it off. he taps on your hip to cue your eyes to find his. you follow his gaze, down to your chest. you reply with a grin, your lips latching onto his in another kiss.
with your permission, peter lifts your shirt over your head. you raise your arms to help him out a bit. you hurl the shirt at the floor, grabbing onto his shoulders. he pulls back from the kiss for a moment so can look at you, really look at you and take you in. he’s pleased to discover you aren’t wearing a bra.
“shit,” peter swears, his breath fanning over your face. “fuck, can i…” he doesn’t say it, but you know what he means. “yeah, peter. you can touch me,” you respond.
peter sets one hand on your waist, his other coming up to your chest. you hold your breath in anticipation. you’ve done this plenty of times before, more than you could count, but something about it is different with peter. it’s new, unpredictable, spontaneous. neither of you know what’s coming next.
he’s so close to touching you, so close, but a bright red substance coating his fingertips stops him. he shows you his hand with an apologetic smile.
the remnants of the hot cheetos he was eating earlier.
“well, shit. to be continued,” you let out an airy laugh, wriggling out from under peter. “you mean, like, you wanna do this again?” he wonders. he watches as you put your top back on. “duh. we were only just getting started, and i think we both deserve to finish, if you know what i mean,” you imply, sitting criss-cross. “do you wanna, though?” you make sure. “oh, absolutely. to be continued it is,” he chuckles.
peter lays down in front of you, head resting in his hand. he grins at you, and his lips look so damn kissable. they’re plump from all of your sucking on them, parted for air. you can’t resist it, so you go in for a short peck. he eagerly kisses you back, sitting up again to reach you better. much to his dismay, you push him back down.
“save it for later, tiger,” you giggle. “ugh, sorry,” peter groans, rolling onto his back. “don’t be. where’d all that come from, by the way?” you question. “all what?” his brows knit together. “you’ve got skills. don’t take this the wrong way, but i definitely wasn’t expecting that,” you refer to your kissing. “then it might surprise you to know i’ve done this before,” he informs you, head leaned on his arms.
“for real?” you prompt. “a couple times, yeah,” peter nonchalantly says. a smile crosses your features. “with who?” you inquire. “you’re not gonna believe me if i tell you,” he laughs out. “yeah? try me,” you motivate. he waits a beat, then looks up at you. “gwen stacy,” he reveals. “you’re right, i don’t believe you. there’s no fucking way,” you instantly challenge, whacking his shoulder.
gwen stacy is one of, if not the most popular girl at midtown. she’s head cheerleader, and homecoming queen, and school president. she’s also liz’s biggest competition. liz is always second best to her. runner-up for homecoming royalty, vice president, but at least she has decathlon. gwen wouldn’t dare touch it, the club and anyone who’s associated with it being branded a social pariah.
so, how the hell did she end up with peter?
you’re cordial with gwen, although you aren’t each other’s biggest fans. she’s sweet to your face, but gossips behind your back, about your drug habits and your sex life. you couldn’t give less of a fuck what she thinks. she’s stuck up, and a bitch. at least you can live a little.
“give me a storytime, immediately. how on earth did that happen?” you gape. “you really wanna know?” peter asks you. “uh, yeah! start talking!” you whack him again. “alright, alright! stop hitting me! it was at one of flash’s parties,” he begins, a sly smile on his face. flash thompson is legendary for his ragers. “he invited the whole decathlon team because he’s an alternate member,” he continues.
“which makes zero sense ‘cause he’s an idiot. questionable move on liz’s part,” you interject. “you’re telling me? anyway, flash made everyone play seven minutes in heaven,” peter recalls. “a classic, a classic. go on,” you comment. “lucky me, i ended up with gwen. to make a long story short… it lasted a little longer than seven minutes,” he smirks. “you two had a nice time, then?” you jab a finger at his chest.
“so nice, it became a regular thing,” peter clarifies. “gwen was my first… everything. she taught me a lot,” he grins at the memory. “so i essentially just made out with gwen stacy. not really my type, but hey. i’ll try anything once,” you conclude. peter chuckles quietly. “you and gwen, wow. why is now the first time i’m hearing about this?” you ask.
“we had to be discreet because gwen didn’t want anyone finding out. it would tarnish her reputation, or something like that,” he explains, lips pressing together. “i think that was part of the appeal, though. the sneaking around, trying not to get caught,” he says. “yeah, that’s kinda hot. but also, kinda unfair to you,” you cut in, sounding genuine. “is that why you stopped?” you wonder.
“no, um, gwen wanted to go all the way. i didn’t. i wasn’t ready, so she ended it,” peter mumbles. “oh, man. i’m sorry. she didn’t wanna wait for you?” you question. “nah, but it’s okay. she wasn’t really my type, either,” he confesses. “that’s a relief. wait, so you two never fucked?” you reiterate. “we never slept together, no. we did… other stuff,” peter says with less vulgarity.
despite what peter thinks, you think it’s pretty fucked up what gwen did to him. he was just too pussywhipped at the time to see it. illicit affairs don’t seem like his type of thing, so you respect him for cutting ties with her. and, you now have even more reason to dislike gwen. how could she act so high and mighty, like she’s so far above you, when she’s arguably worse than you are?
“hey, i appreciate you telling me. i feel like i just heard your villain origin story,” you laugh. “eh, i’m over it. it was a long time ago,” peter assures you. “i think she’s dating brad davis now,” he says. “the quarterback and the cheer captain? that’s such a cliche,” you snort. “gwen doesn’t deserve you, anyway. you could do way better,” you pat his cheek.
peter closes his eyes, finding solace in your touch.
he never thought you’d become such a close confidant for him, but you truly have. you always listen and never judge, you make him feel a million times better about anything he opens up to you about. it’s a safe space that you two have created for each other, a safety net to catch one another if you fall.
“i should probably go wash my hands,” peter speaks after a moment. “hang on, i’ve got it,” you grab one of his hands.
peter squints up at you. your fingers wrap around his hand, allowing you to lead it to your lips. peter has no idea where this is going, until you pop his thumb in your mouth. you make eye contact as your tongue glides along his thumb, his brown eyes darkening even further. you then do the same to his index and middle fingers simultaneously.
it’s sort of turning peter on, the sight of his fingers in your mouth. there’s something sensual about it.
“yummy,” you remark, releasing peter’s fingers. “that was… weirdly attractive,” peter admits. “sounds like someone’s got a kink,” you tease. “yeah? what kind of kink would that be?” he asks, lacing his fingers with yours. “i dunno, hand kink?” you press your palm against his. “you did the finger sucking. i think you’re the one with the hand kink,” he retorts.
he was joking, but you take him seriously.
“maybe i am.”
“mj! ned!”
peter comes racing into the bakery. he and ned usually hang around here whenever mj is working. mj is currently cleaning up for the night, and ned is helping her. her boss tasked her with closing. he gave strict instructions not to leave until the place was spotless.
“peter, we’re closing,” mj sighs. she wrings out a wet washcloth into a bucket. “if you and y/n are pulling another all-nighter, you’re gonna have to get your caffeine somewhere else,” she states. “that’s not why i’m here, but it is about y/n. can you talk?” peter asks her. “grab a broom or get moving,” she bargains.
peter finds a broom in the supply closet. he sweeps the floor while ned mops it, and mj wipes down the countertops.
“you said something about y/n? i’m all ears,” ned prompts. “dude, guess what? we just kissed!” peter beams. ned drops his mop. “you did? oh my god, peter! this is huge!” he gives peter a bear hug. “congrats, dude. you haven’t gotten any action since gwen stacy,” he jests. “thanks for the reminder,” peter pats his back.
mj kicks the mop towards ned.
“back to work, leeds. i’m not paying you to reminisce on peter’s shitty love life,” she calls to him. “you’re not paying me at all,” ned mutters. “who said i loved gwen? i never even liked her,” peter fixates. “but do you like y/n?” ned questions. mj gives him a look, so he mops the floor while he awaits peter’s answer. “define like,” peter responds rather anticlimactically.
“does y/n like you?” mj asks instead. “i mean, i don’t know, but we did make out for kind of a while,” peter replies, sweeping the area. “she must like your lips at least,” mj offers. “yeah, she must, because she wants to do it again,” he agrees, unable to fight back a grin. “dude! i told you she’d hook up with you!” ned hollers. “are you gonna go all the way this time?” he wonders.
“ned,” mj speaks with a warning tone. “what? it’s a valid question. we all know what happened with gwen,” ned justifies. peter looks down at the floor, pushing around cookie crumbs with the broom. “i’m not sure, ned. y/n isn’t like gwen, though. she gets it,” he murmurs. “he totally likes her,” ned says to mj.
peter doesn’t say anything back.
“one more strike and you’re on bathroom duty, leeds,” mj threatens. “haha, you said bathroom duty,” ned points out.
peter does a half-assed job with the rest of his sweeping, still stuck on his conversation with ned and mj. he’s almost positive he doesn’t like you, not like that. he can’t. you’re his friend, and he’s your tutor. you’re you, and he’s him. he just happened to be blessed with a skilled mouth that you want to explore more of. the way he sees it, he’s merely your next conquest.
he doesn’t mind, though. he’s been thinking about you a lot lately; he’s been thinking about you nonstop. he can’t get the image of your bare tits out of his mind, or the feeling of your lips off of his own. it’s driving him absolutely mad.
the bottom line is that he’s down for it, whatever it is between you and him.
“is may around?” you ask peter upon entering his apartment.
it’s later in the week, and you’re over for tutoring. that’s what peter thinks, at least. he’s none the wiser to what you really have planned for the two of you.
“uh, no. she’s at the shelter. she took another late shift, why?” peter answers. “good. we can pick up right where we left off,” you propose, arms winding around his torso. he raises a brow. “i thought we were gonna do the physics homework,” he reminds you. “it can wait,” you play with the collar of his sweater. “but it… it’s due tomorrow,” he breathes out.
peter is all for part two of your make out session, but you can’t lose sight of what’s really important here; passing physics.
“we have plenty of time, peter,” you speak lowly. “y/n, i… you’re doing really well. i don’t want you to get sidetracked,” peter says despite himself. “if i’m doing so well then i deserve a reward, don’t you think?” you practically purr, leaning in so your lips ghost over peter’s. “we shouldn’t, y/n/n. not right now,” he weakly replies. “fine, suit yourself. i’ll go get my calculator,” you retract your offer.
your lips leave peter’s, arms starting to unwind from around him. he catches your arms before they do, situating them around his waist once again.
“i guess we could do the homework later. what time do you have to be home?” peter questions with a half smile. “you know i don’t have a curfew,” you murmur before your lips crash into his.
the two of you barely make it to peter’s bedroom between your sloppy kisses and handsy touches, each of you effectively hot and bothered when you finally do. peter sits at the edge of his bed with you in his lap. you’re in a mini skirt that’s even shorter than the one you wore last time, heightening the feeling of the position for both of you.
your hands find their way back to peter’s sweater as his lips pepper your skin in an array of kisses. the kisses are soft, ticklish almost, and peter grabs your chin between his fingers so he can concentrate them where he wants to. he settles on your jaw.
“can i take this off?” you pull on the hem of peter’s sweater. “please,” peter speaks against your skin. you remove his sweater, only to be met with a flannel underneath it. “you’re not making this easy for me, are you, tiger?” you laugh breathlessly. “i like it when you call me that,” peter grins and pecks your cheek. “me, too. it’s very fitting,” you concur, getting to work on his flannel buttons.
you slide the flannel off peter’s shoulders, revealing abs and muscles you had not a clue were there.
“holy shit, you’re ripped! what’ve you been hiding under all those layers?” you grasp at peter’s biceps. he chuckles at your reaction. “you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? i mean, shit, who even are you?” you ogle him. “all i had to do was take my shirt off and you’re salivating,” peter brags. “you’re so fucking hot, jesus,” you go on.
peter kisses you again to shut you up, and because he doesn’t like going too long without your lips attached to his. your hands continue to feel up his toned body, his hands moving down yours. they stop just above the curve of your ass, tentative towards fulfilling his desires. you sense his reluctance and let your lips momentarily detach from his.
“it’s okay. you can touch me wherever you want,” you offer a smile. “are you sure?” he questions, licking his lips which are covered in your gloss. “i’m sure. i want this just as much as you do, peter,” you soothe. “okay, good. in that case…” a cheeky smile makes its way onto his features.
you resume your kiss, and this time, peter lets his hands come to rest on your ass. he kneads gently with his fingers, a sigh leaving your lips. your nails scratch against his chest, tongue tangling with his. you sneak a hand back to unzip your skirt so you can speed up the process. that leaves you in your panties, and it’s only then that you realize just how hard peter is, and just how wet you are.
you’resoaked.
peter takes note. his thumb skims along the waistband of your panties, an arm looping around your middle.
“i never got to take care of you the other day. lemme make it up to you?” he looks into your eyes. “god, please. i’m literally pulsating,” you manage. “yeah, i can feel you,” peter chuckles. “i can feel you, too. must be fucking suffocating in there,” you place a hand on his thigh. his breath hitches. “could i take care of you after?” you wonder.
“no, no. don’t worry about me. let’s just focus on you, alright?” peter nods, willing you. “well, it’s not often you hear a guy say that,” you concede. “i prefer giving to receiving. i’m just selfless like that,” he smolders, making you giggle. “peter parker, you’re a fucking dream,” you remark.
peter smiles at that, really smiles. although he knows your words are driven solely by lust, he finds tenderness in them.
you angle your hips so peter has better access to where you need him. peter keeps you in place with his arm around your waist, pushing your panties aside. he uses a finger to collect your wetness, so slowly it’s agonizing. the feeling sends shivers down your spine. a cocky smirk appears on his lips. his thumb presses ever so slightly on your clit, eliciting a high-pitched whine from you.
you’re about ready to beg for more, then two fingers enter you.
“oh,fuck.”
you smash your lips into peter’s as his fingers begin to pump inside you. he starts at a steady pace, still slow, but steady. it’s when his thumb comes back up to massage your clit that you let out a soft moan against his lips. he pays more attention to your bundle of nerves since it’s what you respond the most to, letting his fingers curl a bit in you.
“that’s good… do that,” you exhale, holding onto peter’s biceps. “whatever you like, y/n/n. just tell me,” peter murmurs.
you leave a messy kiss on his chin in response.
peter brings his free hand down to give your ass a squeeze while his fingers work inside you. you yelp, forehead falling against his. yours has become sticky with sweat. his thumb circles your clit with just the right amount of pressure to evoke more moans from you. he continues to curl his fingers in you deliciously, pace consistent. your hips roll in sync with him.
“that’s it. how’s that feel?” peter rasps. “fuck, just… just keep doing what you’re doing,” you pant out, hips matching his movements. “i’m so close. so, so close,” you almost heave. “already?” he teases. “you should take that as a compliment, dickhead,” you bang a fist into his chest. “i do, y/n/n. in the highest form,” he reassures.
all it takes is a few more strokes of peter’s fingers in that one perfect place, combined with his thumb on your clit and the lolling of your hips, and you’re done for. you gasp as you reach your high, clutching at peter’s arms. he works you through it, strong arms bracing you. when he feels you clenching around his fingers, he carefully slips them out of you.
“peter, that was…” you don’t even have the words. “i know,” peter hums, readjusting your panties for you.
peter’s curls stick to your forehead when yours separates from his. you drop your head onto his bare chest, hands still on his arms. peter gives you time to collect yourself. he rubs your back while you try to even out your breathing, the room now silent save for both of your pounding heartbeats.
that was fucking incredible. you don’t think you’ve ever came so fast. peter was so attentive, listened to you and your body, and it made the experience that much better. out of all the sexual encounters you’ve had, it’s been rare you find someone committed to your pleasure as much as peter is. you’ve learned that when you do, you should keep them around.
you’re not done with peter just yet.
“let’s talk,” you smile, peeking up from peter’s chest. “uh oh, how bad was it?” he jokes. “no, really. there’s something i wanna talk to you about,” you laugh. he becomes more serious. “sure, what’s up?” he questions, brows furrowing.
you climb out of peter’s lap and sit next to him. he shifts on the bed so he’s looking at you.
“how would you feel about us making an arrangement of sorts, for lack of a better term?” you prompt. “what kind of arrangement?” peter follows up. “y’know, a friends with benefits type of thing,” you elaborate. “wait, what? seriously?” he bites his lip to suppress a smile. “yeah, if you’re down. this was fun… really fun, and i’m comfy with you. plus, you have experience in this field,” you grin.
peter thinks it over for a moment. he definitely wouldn’t mind hooking up with you on the regular, and it wouldn’t be his first time doing so with someone. it didn’t end so well the last time, though.
then again, you aren’t like gwen, not in the slightest. you didn’t shame him when he told you about waiting to have sex, and you’re always encouraging when he wants to try something new. he trusts you; you trust him. above all else, that matters most to peter while being intimate. besides, just like you’d said physics was his territory, this is yours. you know what you want, and what you’re doing.
what could go wrong?
“let’s do it,” peter agrees, grinning back at you. “perfect! we’ve just gotta set some ground rules, and then we’re good to go,” you affirm. you seat yourself in his lap again. “good idea. what’s rule number one?” he asks, hands setting on your thighs. “always be safe, and sanitary. your cheeto fingers aren’t welcome here,” you wave a playful finger at him. “i won’t make it a habit. number two?” he chuckles.
“communicate. don’t be afraid to tell me what feels good, or what doesn’t,” you start. “and there’s never any pressure to do something you don’t want to. i’m guessing sex is off the table?” you inquire. peter’s cheeks turn pink. “is that okay?” he recoils. “completely okay. no pressure,” you repeat, thumb lightly tracing his jawline. “okay,” he relaxes, fingers wrapping around your wrist.
“rule number three is the third and final, but the most important one of all,” you prepare. “what is it?” peter wonders. you look him in his eyes. “no feelings, no getting attached. we’re friends, and friends only. we’re just helping each other get off. don’t except anything more,” you finalize. “can you handle that?” you check with him.
hethinks he can.
“yeah, totally. no strings attached,” peter repeats. “none,” you reinforce. “it’s settled, then. friends with benefits,” you nudge his nose with yours. “friends with benefits,” he pats your thigh. “we should probably get started on physics now. i heard warren’s collecting,” you huff. “of course she is. alright, after you,” he coaxes you out of his lap.
you get off the bed and put on your skirt. peter is still hard as a rock, and the sight of you shimmying your hips as you zip your skirt up doesn’t help. he’ll have to deal with his massive boner later, though. right now, you two have a shit load of physics homework to complete.
you’re in gym class, hiding out in the bleachers with harry and liz to avoid running the mile. liz ran hers already, but you and harry have been putting it off. the three of you watch everyone on the track as you catch up with each other.
“you and parker are fucking?” harry sneers. you just told him and liz about your… arrangement. “no, that’s actually the one thing we’re not doing,” you correct, feet kicked up on the bleacher in front of you. “why not? is he a prude or something?” harry ridicules. “hardly. he just wants to wait,” you shrug. “i don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. plenty of other things you guys could do,” liz throws in her two cents.
“right? he made me cum in, like, seconds the other night with just his fingers,” you recount. “seconds? damn, has he done this before?” liz prompts you. harry crosses his arms over his chest. “get this. he used to hook up with fucking gwen stacy,” you tell the two of them. “ugh, of all people? you’re joking,” liz’s jaw drops. “i’m dead serious,” you vow. “gwen is a fucking fox. how’d he pull her?” harry questions.
“seven minutes in heaven, one of flash’s parties. they hit it off,” you explain. “interesting,” harry fumbles for his pack of cigarettes. “oh, shit! i was there for that! they were locked in the closet for, like, ever,” liz remembers. harry offers you a cigarette. “i’m good. trying to cut back,” you decline, shielding your eyes from the sun.
you’ve been inspired by peter’s slip up with your edibles to reevaluate your usage of certain substances. he really is a good influence on you.
harry shoos at you and lights his cigarette.
“speak of the devil,” liz says. peter passes by as he’s finishing up his last lap. “sheesh, his ass looks great in those tiny little short-shorts,” you fan yourself. “some thoughts should stay in your head, y/l/n,” harry mumbles, taking a drag from his cigarette. “y/l/n! osborn!” coach wilson blows his whistle at the two of you. “get your asses on the track,” he reprimands.
liz smiles deviously. you and harry let out collective noises of anguish.
“i’m either gonna puke my guts out or die of heat exhaustion… or both,” you declare. “have fun with that,” liz sends you off. harry stays back with her. “what’s your deal with peter, osborn? seems like you have something against him,” she brings up. “huh? why would i?” he responds. “well, i think y/n was right. maybe you’re jealous,” she insinuates.
harry stands up from the bleachers. he spots you with your hands all over peter’s arms, the two of you laughing so loud he can hear it from up here. he takes one last drag from his cigarette before stomping it out.
“i’ve got nothing to be jealous of. she was my friend first.”
coach wilson blows his whistle at you again for talking to peter instead of running your laps. you puff air out of your cheeks, fingers trailing down peter’s arms before leaving them completely.
“that’s my cue. i’ve gotta run, literally,” you complain. “you want me to do it with you? i could take another lap, or four,” peter urges, smiling. “but you’re already done,” you remind him. “so? i’m working on the bod,” he flexes a bicep. “like you need to,” you prod at his muscles. he lowers his arm with a laugh. “it’s fine. we’ll do it together,” he decides.
“now you’re my tutor, my fuck buddy, and my personal trainer? i don’t know how you keep up,” you remark. “me neither. you’re not low maintenance, that’s for sure,” peter plays along. “c’mon, let’s get going before that vein in coach’s forehead bursts,” he says. “oh my god. you see it, too?” you grab his shoulder. “how could i not?” he confirms.
the two of you make your way to the track. you let peter go ahead of you so you can check out his ass again, thoroughly enjoying the view.
“wait, before we start, are we still on for tonight?” you wonder. you’re warming up, bending to touch your toes. “for tutoring? or, uh, the other thing?” peter replies. “both again? if there’s time in your busy schedule,” you answer. “if not, we’re just doing physics because that homework was brutal,” he groans. “i know, and it’s not like warren is a forgiving grader, either,” you mumble.
you come back up to a standing position. peter’s eyes are fixed on you, but he looks away when you look at him.
that makes you even.
“um,” peter clears his throat. “i’ll race you.”
you bump your hip against his, moving so you’re beside him.
WARNING: Might be triggering to some people! Please do not read if this may harm you. No fic is worth your safety.
Ridiculous. That is what you would describe this entire day as. It was nearly midnight and you were finally leaving Flash’s house after finishing your chem lab work. Of course he waited until the night before it was due to invite you over to “help”. His version of helping is sitting beside you talking complete nonsense while you do all of the work. You swore that if your teacher ever assigned the two of you to work together, you were going to just throw him off of the school building. What’s worse is that he didn’t even offer you a ride home afterwards. He seriously expected you to walk home in the dark by yourself. At the time, you were just happy to be leaving his house. But about twenty minutes into your journey, you were drowning in anxiety. Every single sound or slight movement that you heard, you were immediately spraying pepper spray in that direction. Of course it was useless since the trash cans you heard rattle were not a threat, but you couldn’t be too careful.
When you weren’t giving yourself a heart attack, you were thinking up a million ways to murder Flash. Decapitation. Throwing him off a building. Running him over with his own car. The possibilities were endless.
“What are you doing walking around this late?” a gruff voice asked from behind you. You were so caught up in your own head that you didn’t even see the three men leaned against the side of a building. Your spine snapped straight, feigning as much confidence as it could in its terrified state.
“As if it’s any of your business,” you scoffed before attempting to walk away from them. However you felt two hands snake around your waist from behind. You jumped, a surprised yelp jumping out of your throat. Quickly, the man covered your mouth with a sharp curse.
“Come on, now,” he scolded you, “There’s no need for that. We aren’t gonna hurt you, baby.”
You squirmed in his grasp as he led you over to his friends, one hand holding your waist in a death-like grip. Your attempts at calling out for help were all muffled behind the man’s hand. However futile they felt, you never once stopped. If you had any luck, some sort of stranger could walk by. Maybe they could hear you crying out for them. Maybe you could be saved from this.
“I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up,” the man holding you growled into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin which made you recoil from him. He pulled you back to him harshly, his grip curling slightly which caused his nails to dig into your flesh. You let out a painful whimper, too scared to scream anymore.
“There you go,” he praised gruffly before turning to his friends, “good bitch knows how to take orders.”
His friends laughed alongside him as they approached slowly, each of their hands moving to caress various areas of your body. You weren’t sure you could call it that at this moment though. It didn’t feel like your body anymore. Not with their hands and bodies pressed against it. And how do you move a body that isn’t yours? The most you could do was shut your eyes. Close your eyes and pray that this will end quickly. But as the sound of your shirt ripping off your body was heard, you didn’t have a single ounce of hope left.
“Hey!” a voice broke through the air. The hands of the men stopped suddenly. You assume they had turned to the origin of the voice, but you weren’t ready to open your eyes just yet. Not when you felt the cold chill of a sharpened blade to your exposed neck.
“How about you back away, Spiderman?” a cocky tone chimed in from behind you. He spun the two of you to face Spiderman, causing you to cry out in fear as pressure slightly increased under the blade. Your eyes opened as if on their own, the sting of the cold metal against your surprising them open. Spiderman’s stance straightened in surprise. Before now, you had kept your hair partially sheltering your face, when you looked up to see the man- he acted almost as if he knew you.
“Don’t you hurt a single hair on her head,” Spiderman growled, his posture shifting into a fighting stance.
“It’s up to you, Spiderman. You move, she gets hurt,” the man cooed teasingly, “But if you leave, I’ll put the knife completely away.”
Spiderman looked at you for a moment, and even though he was wearing a mask… you knew that he was sorry. The knife was against your neck. If he were to move his hand to shoot his webs, there was a good chance that he couldn’t stop the knife in time. Sadly enough, you understood. You knew that no matter what superpowers Spiderman has… right now he couldn’t save you without gambling your life. So instead you just closed your eyes. It would be easier to forgive him for this if you didn’t see him leave.
The men laughed cockily as the sound of Spiderman retreating hit your ears. Immediate tears formed in your eyes, well aware of what he had left you with. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t his fault. There was nothing he could have done. He isn’t the monster of this story. But it was so hard to convince yourself while foreign fingertips greedily scanned your bare skin.
“I think that since I was the one who got rid of ole Spidy, I should get first dibs,” the man with the knife whispered against your ear before softly nibbling your neck. You recoiled at the feeling and let out a pathetic cry.
“I’m the one who caught her,” another griped, “If I wasn’t behind her, she would’ve gotten away.”
The men bickered, their motions becoming harsher. You tried not to cry, not wanting to give them more satisfaction than they were already stealing from you. Soon the argument took over the situation, causing two of the men to break away and fight on their own. To them, you were nothing more than an object. They only saw you as some living toy used only for their desire. It was sickening. How could they not care that they were ruining someone’s life?
The second the men broke into their own battle, a figure swooped in from the sky and kicked off one of the men held against you. A small smile broke out of your face as you witnessed the man slamming against the ground, unable to bring himself back up. The men fighting stopped instantly, turning to keep you cornered behind them. However, before they could make it to you, webs shot out of the sky. The web wrapped completely around them, immobilizing them. You watched with bright eyes, finally seeing some hope in this horrible situation. Spiderman swung out from the shadows and slammed against the two men, kicking them away from you. You heard them struggling against the webs, but your eyes stayed locked to your savior.
“I suggest you let her go,” the man growled, stepping closer to the two of you. The man didn’t give up, instead using you as a shield. You felt him pulling you backwards with him, but if it was just one guy- you could do something about it.
You waited until he was taking another step back before twisting as best as you could and slamming your leg into his groin. You heard the man let out a sharp breath of air before doubling over. Immediately you intertwined your hands and slammed downwards, knocking him to the ground face first. The two of you left standing winced slightly at the sound of bones breaking. The impact of his nose against the concrete caused it to break. It made you happy, knowing that you wouldn’t be the only one scarred from the situation.
“Ma’am?” Spiderman asked from behind you, not wanting to step forward and frighten you more than you already were. You turned towards him and it was something about being able to move freely… or maybe it was the fact you didn’t feel their hands anymore. Whatever it was, it caused tears to flow freely down your face. Spiderman jumped slightly in surprise as a loud sob erupted from you.
“Take me away from this please,” you wailed, “Please get me away from them or I’ll be the one having to go to jail. Please take me away.”
He moved quickly to you and waited for your permission to wrap his arm around you before swinging the two of you away from the men. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to get back in time to arrest the one not webbed, but you were more important to him than anything else.
The two of you ended up on top of an apartment building. He placed you on the ground as gently as he could, but it didn’t matter. The second your feet touched the ground, you dropped to your knees and cried.
“I-I’ll be right back I promise,” Spiderman said before jumping off the side of the building. A few minutes later he showed back up with a t-shirt and jacket in hand. You thanked him and put the clothing on. Whenever you turned back to him, you saw him facing the other way with his hands over his eyes.
“I don’t know why you’re doing that. You’ve already seen it,” you said quietly, hugging yourself with the fabric, “you can turn around though. I’m done.”
“I kept my eyes closed when I got the first three guys,” he admitted sheepishly, turning towards you slowly, “With the last guy, I looked only at him.”
Red hit your cheeks, “Thank you for that,” you mumbled, “And for saving me. I know that there was nothing you could’ve done the first time so… thank you for coming back.”
“I never left. I waited until it was safe… I had to wait until the guy with the knife was far enough from you. I’m so sorry it took so long.”
You were trying your hardest to fix your composure. You didn’t want to look weaker than you already did. So you stood tall and wiped the leftover tears off of your cheeks. Spiderman surveyed your posture before slumping.
“Y/N you don’t have to be on your guard with me,” he sighed, “I know you’re scared, but we know each other. Just trust me, please? I won’t hurt you.”
“We know each other?”
You could see him thinking something over with himself before he answered, “If I take off my mask will you not freak out or tell anyone?”
“Will you tell anyone anything about what happened tonight?”
“Other than the cops, no. I won’t use your name either.”
“Then we have a deal,” you agreed, still being on your guard. But when he lifted his mask, you broke down completely. You ran into his arms and hugged him as tightly as you could.
“Hey,” Peter shushed you calmingly, “You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”
“Peter,” you cried painfully into his chest. Peter was one of your best friends, and as soon as you calmed down from the situation- there would be a talk about why it took so long for you to be in the know. But for right now, you just wanted him to hold you a little longer.
“You can stay at mine tonight,” he told you, kissing the top of your head, “Aunt May won’t mind and you can just tell your parents you stayed at MJ’s. She’ll cover for you.” You nodded, unable to speak. You just held onto him as he took you back to his apartment.
-
Peter led you to the shower as soon as you got to his house. You thanked him as he turned the water to an appropriate setting. He of course made it a little hotter than he normally would because he knew how you liked the water hot. He left the bathroom for a minute and returned with a set of clothes, a towel, and a spare toothbrush.
“You know where my room is. I told Aunt May you’re here, it’s up to you whether or not you want her to know. She’s so tired that she didn’t really question it. Plus she knows about the whole side job thing.”
You thanked Peter, motioning to the shower, “I’m gonna get in now. I’ll probably be a while…”
Peter’s expression contorted to concern, but he just nodded. He knew it was better to just let you cry it out for right now. As much as he hates seeing you upset, he knew that you needed to get it out.
And you did. You sat on the floor of the shower for an hour and sobbed. You kept it as quiet as you could because of Aunt May, but it was hard.
You scrubbed your skin raw until you felt like you’d gotten most of their filth off of you, but some would always remain inside of you. The memory of you would keep their torment alive forever. They knew that, and you were sure they loved knowing you were going to suffer thanks to them.
Whenever you finally rejoined Peter, he was sitting up in his bed changed into nightclothes already. You had stayed with him before, but this was the first time you were nervous to share a bed with him. He noticed immediately and hopped off.
“I’ll stay on the couch tonight,” he announced, “Do you need a light? I don’t know how you feel about the dark right now. But I have a lamp I could keep on.”
You shook your head, “No I’m fine, but you can stay. I-As much as I’m scared to share a bed with a male right now, I’m more afraid of being alone.”
Peter nodded and walked towards you, enveloping you in his arms, “I’m so sorry I didn’t get there faster.”
Hearing his words, you let your walls down once more and clung to him, “Could you just take the pain away? It hurts… “ you whispered in a broken tone, Peter held you tighter to him, “It hurts so much.. Help me.”
Peter sighed, unsure of how to tell you that he didn’t know how to fix this. All he knew is that he would never let you leave his sight ever again.
You told him that it was a bad idea. Tony specifically told the two of you to stay away, but Peter wanted to see what everyone was being so secretive about. Of course you didn’t want to join him, but he begged you and Peter had this ability to convince you to do just about anything. He knows it too. So when he came into your room and begged you to come with him (Tony would be less likely to yell at him if you were with him), you couldn’t say no.
But you should’ve.
“Peter what are we even looking for?” you asked him with a bored expression. Peter looked back at you and shrugged. He didn’t have a clue. You sighed and leaned against the door frame, waiting for your idiotic friend to hurry up and leave. The deal was that you would go with him to the room, but you wouldn’t go in. Peter whined for a moment about it, but decided that it was better than nothing.
“I’m guessing I’ll know it when I see it,” he commented as he continued snooping around Banner’s work space. Guessing that you would be there for a while, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling through social media. You could hear Peter shuffling around the room mumbling to himself, but you concluded that if he found what he was looking for he would let you know.
It was quiet for a while, maybe two or three minutes before you heard clattering and Peter let out a short cry. When you looked up, you saw Peter flat on his ass looking up at some weird pink plant. You didn’t move to help him up or make any noise because of the look he had on his face. He looked dazed or distracted, like he was in some trance.
“Pete?” you asked with furrowed brows, shoving your phone back into your pocket, “You doing okay over there, Spidey?”
Peter’s gaze snapped away from the plant immediately and stuck on you. The way he was looking at you caused your heartbeat to quicken. He both looked confused and enthralled at your presence. You backed away slowly as he rose to his feet, not fully trusting his willpower at the moment.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he spoke almost robotically, stepping closer towards you, “But I think you might need to get Mr. Stark.”
Without questioning him, you took off in the opposite direction where you assumed Tony would be. You ran as fast as you could through the headquarters, earning the attention of everyone you passed. When you finally caught a glimpse of the man, he was in a conversation with Banner. Normally you would just stand beside them awkwardly until you were noticed, but of course this situation was a bit different than all the other times.
“Tony!” you yelled as soon as you saw him, “Tony something happened!”
He turned around and looked at you with a surprised expression, “What hap- where’s the kid?”
You doubled over, holding onto your knees to catch your breath. Tony, who had an idea of what was going on, grabbed onto your shoulders and lifted you to his eyesight, “Y/N, where is Peter? Please tell me you did not go in the lab!”
“I-I didn’t,” you panted, “But Peter did. He messed with something, I don’t know what it was.”
Tony growled lowly to himself, removing his hands from your shoulders, “I need you to go into your room right now and don’t come out until I come to get you.”
“What ha-”
“No,” Tony snapped at you causing you to flinch slightly, “You don’t get to ask any questions. What you get to do is listen to me for once and go to your room.”
“Tony, all due respect and all, but I am not a high schooler anymore,” you seethed, not appreciating his tone, “I am twenty-three, okay? I told Peter to not go in there, but he didn’t listen to me. Don’t you dare treat me like a kid when I am just concerned for my best friend. So you’re going to tell me what the fuck happened in that lab and you’re going to tell me now.”
Tony sighed, his leg shaking impatiently. He didn’t have time to argue with you on this. Peter could be anywhere in the building by now. As much as Tony loved the fact that you were learning to stick up for yourself, he also knew that Peter probably figured out what happened in the lab. If he found that out, that means he’s trying his best to stay as far away from you as possible. There is no telling just how long he can hold himself back. Tony sighed, looking back at Banner who looked just as worried and guilty as Tony did.
“Banner, tell her everything,” Tony instructed, but before you could rejoice, Tony continued, “but walk her to her room while you do it. Quickly please.”
–
“So you’re saying that Peter was infected by…” you trailed off, not sure what to call the mysterious plant Banner was explaining. Apparently Banner and Tony found it on some planet or something. Tony, of course, was curious and talked Banner into helping him discover it’s powers. Little did they know that they ended up stealing a mating plant.
“We aren’t sure what to call it,” Banner explains, “but all we know is that once you sniff it, you go a bit crazy. Your inhibitions drop and your libido kind of goes crazy.”
“So you’re basically telling me that Peter sniffed a mysterious alien plant and is now roaming the building with a major boner?”
Banner slightly cringes at your terminology, but he couldn’t really argue with it, “Yeah basically.”
“So why am I being sent to my room like a scorned toddler?” you huffed.
Banner looked at you for a short moment, wondering if you were actually serious. When you didn’t budge, he just shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea. But I’d rather follow Tony’s orders than be on his bad side.”
“I guess I understand that,” you stop in front of your door, turning to the man with a puzzled expression, “I have one last question.”
“Go for it.”
“How are you guys going to help him?”
-
It has been an hour since Banner and Tony stuffed you into your room. There hasn’t been any word on Peter’s condition, nor if they found him. Of course you have been blowing up everyone’s phones, but the only answer you received was from Nat. It was pretty vague also.
“Stop being a chicken. Do what you have to do. I never sent this message.”
You hate that you knew exactly what she meant. It didn’t take you very long to connect the dots as to why you were the only person being locked in their room. When Peter looked at you after messing with the plant, his eyes never left you once. The way that his eyes traveled down your body like he was soaking you in… You began to berate yourself for taking this long to realize.
You were the first person he saw. That had to be it.
But to break it, you would have to do something that would possibly end your friendship with Peter. Having sex with your best friend has always been the number one “do not”, but what if it was to save him? Though you weren’t entirely sure if he would die from this, but the way Tony was acting you just assumed it was lethal. So you asked yourself the dreaded question:
Would you have sex with your best friend in order to save their life?
Easy. Yes.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before. There was no way that you could see Peter Parker without a shirt and not have that thought. The one reason you never crossed that territory is because you know Peter, and you know that he wouldn’t endanger your friendship like that. Unless he was saving you from an alien plant that made you super horny? Honestly this whole situation is very Riverdale-y.
So you texted Nat. By now she would know.
Where is he?
She didn’t take long to answer you back.
His room.
-
“Peter?” you whispered, knocking lightly on his door. You could hear shuffling noises from behind the door, but Peter never replied. He had to be in there, Nat said he was. Also, who else would go into Peter’s room? On the brightside, if you were to go in and it wasn’t Peter- you could possibly catch a thief or an eavesdropper. It didn’t take long for you to make up your mind before you pulled out the spare key you had to his room. Peter had one to your room too, just in case.
Whenever you walked in, you noticed that his room had been destroyed. His desk, which was normally cluttered with his little inventions, was empty. The tools and other objects that normally resided on the desk were scattered around the floor. You searched the room for the boy, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Pete?” you called softly. A soft groan sounded from above you. Startled by the sound, you looked up at the ceiling to see your best friend covered in sweat. You could see the pain in his eyes as he looked down at you.
“Y/N, you really shouldn’t be in here,” Peter struggled to speak, jumping off the ceiling but staying a fair distance from you.
“Nat told me where to find you, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” you spoke softly, attempting to approach him. Peter back up into the wall, trying to stay as far from you as he could.
“Please,” Peter strained, “You don’t understand, you can’t be in here.”
“Banner told me what happened with the plant,” you sighed, stepping forward once more. Peter couldn’t back up anymore. He was stuck.
“Y/N can you not hear me?” Peter whined, “Just listen to me for once. Leave. Please.”
“I’m not leaving until I fix this,” you spoke stubbornly, your arms crossing in front of your arms, “Banner didn’t tell me why I was the only one being kept from you, but I finally figured it out. So I came to help. Please let me help.”
“You figured it out?” he croaked, “And you’re not… do you… you know?”
“I was the first person you saw after you were infected,” you explained, “So I’m guessing it’s like a love potion type deal? First person you see, you get stuck too.”
Peter looked at you in shock before laughing, “That’s not it at all, Y/N.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at the boy, a small frown tugging at your lips. Peter watched as the wheels in your head began to turn. You would figure it out soon. When you did, that would be the end of your friendship. There was no way that you would stay friends with him once you figured out how obsessed with you he was. He’d been in love with you forever and he was really good at hiding it from you. Years and years of pretending that he didn’t think about you writhing underneath him as his lips greedily devoured you… down the drain.
“Oh,” you whispered before meeting his eyes, “That makes this a whole lot less awkward.”
Peter’s grip on the window seal tightened, the wood splintering in his grip. He didn’t meet your eyes, afraid of what he would say or do. His resolve was crumbling by the second and he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to keep away from you. But then he realized something.
“Less awkward?” he spat, “Really? Is right now the time for you to be making jokes?”
“I’m not joking with you, Spidey,” you huffed, “I was going to have this whole heartfelt confession about how I really like you, but you know what. If you don’t want sweet, fine. You won’t get sweet.”
Peter’s eyes darkened, “You-”
“Like you a lot? Have imagined you pinning me down? Wondered what it would be like to have you whisper in my ear? Yeah all of the above, I guess. Also, Peter you broke the window seal. I’m not taking the heat for it so y-”
Hands reached out for you in a frenzy, both grasping onto your hair and tugging you backwards until he had you pressed against the wall, his knee positioned between your legs. You felt Peter’s lips envelope your own, snatching the breath right out of your lungs. Peter’s lips were soft and inviting, also they had a hint of a maple taste but that could be because you made him pancakes this morning. One of his hands abandoned your hair and fell onto your waist. You didn’t argue with him as his fingertips dipped underneath the fabric of your shirt, though you did make a sound when his warm hand caressed your breast, but it wasn’t in protest.
“Peter,” you moaned as his thumb grazed the fabric over your nipple. You felt his body go rigid against yours, a groan of desperation soaring past his lips.
“Pretty girl, I’m going to need you to stay a little quieter for right now,” he strained, “I don’t want our first time to be a blur to you. If you keep making beautiful noises like that, I might break and take you right here.”
You smiled at him challengingly, “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
Peter shivered at your words and gave you a wicked smile before placing both hands on your waist and wrapping you around his hips. His greedy lips bruised the skin of your neck, marking every available spot that he could reach. Your head was thrown back in bliss, symphonies of needy cries escaping your lips. It didn’t help that you could feel him against your crotch, teasing you ever so slightly.
Peter sat on the bed, leaving you sitting pretty on his lap. However, it wasn’t his plan to keep you there.
“Stand and strip.”
You didn’t challenge him this time, you would save that for later. Instead you just stood and slowly removed each article of clothing. Peter’s eyes drank in the sight of you bare in front of him, his beautiful eyes darkened by lust. It only made them more beautiful.
“Good girl,” he hummed, “Now sit on my knee.”
Confused, yet intrigued, you followed his orders. Peter smiled, loving how obedient you were being for him. The look in your eyes as you sat and awaited your next instruction. But he didn’t say anything, not at first. Instead, he began bouncing his leg. A struggled moan pushed passed your lips as the movement stimulated your clit. Your hands desperately grasped onto his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself a bit better. Peter watched you with an amused smile on his lips. He loved seeing the way your eyes screwed tight just at the feeling of his thigh, He couldn’t wait to see your expression when he pushed himself into you.
Peter’s hands fell to your waist, guiding your hips in a grinding motion. You quickly understood his silent instructions and you kept the motion going, pressing down harder on his thigh.
“That’s my pretty girl,” he whispered, his lips grazing your bruised flesh, “I want you to keep going until you cum.”
You whined at his words, but you did as you were told. You rocked your clit against his denim clothed thigh, your eyes fluttering shut at the friction gathering between the two of you. Peter watched you with hunger in his beautiful brown eyes. The desire to touch you became too strong for him, leading him to allow his hand to travel to your heat, rubbing circles against it. The second the pad of his thumb pressed against your soaking wet clit, you were gripping tightly onto his thigh in order to quicken the pace. Peter smirked, enjoying the fact that all it took was his thumb and his thigh to have you falling out of place for him. As your pace increased, so did the bouncing of his knee. He closed his eyes, trying to lock the memory of your desperate mewling inside his mind.
“Peter,” you whined, your nails digging into his jeans.
“Are you close, pretty girl?” he asked sweetly. You could only nod in return, your eyes screwing shut at the knot turning in your stomach. Peter removed his empty hand from your waist and lifted it onto your breast, circling the areola faintly before dipping his head down and encasing your pearled nipple between his perfect lips. The sensation was the finishing touch to make the knot in your stomach finally break, causing stars to erupt in your eyes. You screamed a moan as you tried to ride out your high on Peter’s thumb and thigh, but he had other plans. The second you came, Peter flipped the two of you around, slamming your back onto his mattress. You didn’t have time to question him, nor were you really interested in asking.
Peter helped you ride out your high as he continued rubbing circles on your clit, high pitched whines dripping from your lips like profanities. It was the most provocative thing that Peter had ever heard in his entire life and he was hoping to remember the sound of you screaming his name on the day that he dies. Your hands reached forward and grasped onto Peter’s curls, tugging mercilessly at them.
“Peter,” you cried, “Peter please…”
He didn’t take another moment before ripping off his clothing and following you down onto the mattress. Peter’s warm palm was placed against your breast, massaging it and ever-so-slightly twisting on your nipple. More cries. Peter couldn’t get enough of the way you looked and sounded, dripping wet and desperate. For him. He reached into the dresser beside his bed, pulling out a condom and effortlessly sliding it onto his hard cock.
“Hey,” Peter hummed, “Pretty girl, I want you to tell me if it hurts okay? If it hurts, we will stop immediately.”
Your eyes opened to meet his, and to any other person- you would look like the most innocent girl in the world, but he knew you better than that. He knew that the innocent look was an act, and he was proven correct by your following words, “Make me hurt.”
Peter grinned, “God you’re hot.”
He didn’t waste any time before gripping your hips and thrusting himself in completely. You screamed his name so loudly that both of you were sure that the entire floor heard you. Of course neither of you cared at that moment. Peter dug his nails into your hips, leaving angry crescent shaped scars on them that he would later kiss as an apology. However, as of right now, he was unapologetic in each of his movements. Each deep thrust, each scratch, each sharp nip of your flesh… Peter did it all.
“Baby I-” that’s all you could get out before being interrupted by your second orgasm.
When you came for the second time, Peter discovered that it felt so much better having you come undone around his cock rather than on his thigh. The feeling added with the way you called him baby…You were in big trouble now. Peter was rushed with another frenzy, flipping you around onto your stomach, lifting you ass into the air by your hips, and slamming into your entrance once more. You crumbled onto the bed, your pussy throbbing against his cock. However, Peter didn’t like you like that, he wanted you upright. So he reached down and grabbed onto your hair, yanking you up onto all fours. He gripped your hair in two parts, using them as leverage to slam your body back into his with each thrust. Stars, fireworks, cannonballs… you saw them all.
“Fuck baby,” Peter groaned, he emptied one handful of hair into the other hand and used his now-empty hand to turn your head, kissing you deeply. You tried kissing back, but the angle was too awkward and you couldn’t stop the moans from filling the room. Peter lowered his hand, using it instead to choke you once more. He would use his grip on your throat just like he used your hair, causing him to go deeper and deeper into you.
“Peter I can’t,” you struggled. You were so close again and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. You told him to hurt you, not wreck you. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to go on a mission for a few days because you’re not entirely sure that you would be able to walk.
Peter understood you though, but he was far from finished with you. He reached his hand around your waist and began to circle your clit once more, overstimulating your body. Peter felt as you began to shake, coming so close to your orgasm that you could almost taste it.
“Not yet, princess,” Peter growled.
A breathy whimper escaped your lips at his words, you didn’t know how long you could keep it from coming. Peter was hitting every good spot and you were on the edge of spilling over.
“Peter please,” you cried, your hands grasping onto the pillow on his bed, submerging your face in it.
“I said not yet,” he chastised, his hand coming down on your ass as quick as lightning. A sharp moan filled the room as his hand print settled on your ass cheek. Peter flipped you over once more, wanting to see your face as you come undone.
“Now?” you begged him, tears brimming your eyes.
“Cum for me, princess,” he instructed. Your walls came undone around him as he spilled into the condom. You felt him twitching inside you as he messily tried to ride out each of your highs. Whenever both of you came down, he pulled out of you gently and tied the condom, tossing it into the bin. Peter picked up the nearest blanket and wrapped the two of you in it. He watched you as you cuddled closer to him, a content smile on your pretty face.
“I know it’s a bit late to ask this,” Peter whispered to you, gently brushing strands of hair out of your face, “but will you go on a date with me?”
You smiled up at him, taking in his perfect features once more before nodding, “But don’t be mistaken… I don’t kiss on the first date.”
DO NOT REPOST ON ALTERNATIVE SITES UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO SPAM EVERY LAST ACCOUNT YOU OWN- PLUS YA MOMMAS. I STG.
-Contains eventual warnings/possibly sensitive content (the specific warnings will always be listed at top of the story and/or the exact chapter they occur in)
Overview:Aunt May and your parents visit for dinner, but instead of having a peaceful night with family like you had ordinally hoped for, your husband and yourself are stressed with the task of hiding an unexpected problem from your relatives, one that could expose Spiderman’s true identity if you aren’t careful enough.
Even from your spot in the kitchen, you can hear the living room TV echoing. Every couple of minutes, you’ll take a short break from your work to peek around the corner, smiling contently at the sight that always greets you. For the last hour since he returned home, Peter has been sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the couch, his arms wrapped around your son who is placed on top his lap. Both Parker boys carry the same hypnotized looks on their faces, their mouths slightly agape with their eyes glued on whatever episode of Sesame Street is currently playing on the TV, although, you doubt the youngest understands most of it. He’s likely just happy to be with his daddy.
While Peter keeps an eye on the baby, you’ve gotten to work on making dinner. About a week ago, you had made plans with both your parents and Aunt May to have dinner together. While they claimed that a family visit has been long overdue, it’s clear they’re mainly wanting to spend more time with the baby, not that you could ever blame them for being entranced by such an adorably cubby face.
Little Benjamin Reilly Parker was born on June 14th with a small fluff of brown hair upon his head and a healthy weight of 7.6 pounds. Needless to say, after months of constant illness, mood swings, and relentless kicking from the baby, you were very eager to finally meet the little monster as was your husband.
Benjamin is only six and half months old, yet he already has his daddy wrapped around his finger, Peter happily taking on the role of a doting father regardless of what it entails. If Ben’s hungry, he’ll volunteer to cradle him with a bottle no matter the hour. If Ben wants to play, you can expect to find your husband sprawled across the carpet with the baby lying next to him in his activity gym. If Ben is being extra fussy with you during the night, you bet Spiderman is going to kick someone’s ass much faster so that he can sooner get home to his son.
Speaking of Spiderman, Ben doesn’t seem to notice a difference between the hero and daddy. The second Peter crawls through the window, Ben is already reaching out to him with a smile and endless babbling, knowing all too well who’s under the mask. About a month ago there had even been a few pictures on the Daily Bugle of Spiderman stopping to say ‘hello’ to young mother and her baby. Of course, you played dumb when your parents called to inquire about the incident, agreeing with them that Spider must not be able to resist such a cute baby while also secretly elbowing Peter who had laid his head against your shoulder with a smirk as he listened in.
If there’s one good thing about Ben’s young age, it’s his inability to talk so far. You’ve brought the worry up to Peter a few times, quizzing him on what he’ll do if lil’ Ben ever starts referring to Spiderman as dad in front of people. Peter often chooses to brush the question off, insisting that Ben’s young enough for the two of you to convince people he just thinks of his dad as a superhero, although, you’re personally not convinced with that plan. Eventually, your son will have to be taught to keep his father’s secret just that, but for now, it isn’t too big of a concern, after all, Ben has yet to even say his first word. It’s not like he’ll suddenly say 'hey, Spiderman’s my dad’ the next time you take him to the store.
Peter’s arms snake around your waist as you stir the pasta noodles, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck which draws a smile from you,“ May just texted a few minutes ago. They’re almost here.”
He just nods, smiling against the exposed skin of your neck.
“You know, she offered to bring a meatloaf, too.”
Even without seeing it, you know he’s making a face by the sound he makes alone, hiding himself further away in your hair,“ thank goodness you’re cooking. Don’t ever tell her, but your cooking is way better than hers.”
“Now Peter, I can’t lie to Aunt May. I promised to tell her everything,” you giggle when glancing back at him, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout as he whines your name,“ I’m joking. You know your secrets are always safe with me, my dear.”
Peter hums in satisfaction, pressing a couple of quick kisses starting at the crook of your neck to your cheek before pulling himself away to grab the glass of water he originally came into the kitchen for. Meanwhile, you turn off the stove and go to grab some cream cheese from the fridge, subconsciously glancing towards the living room where you should’ve seen Ben sitting in either his bouncer or laying in his activity gym in front of the TV, but he’s in neither spot,” did you put Ben in the crib?“
Peter pulls the water glass away from his lips, raising an eyebrow at your strange question,” no? I laid him down on his blanket so that he could play with his toys.”
It only takes you two steps to enter the living room. Seeing that your apartment isn’t huge, neither are any of the rooms, therefore, you have a full view of the floor just from where you stand. At first, you expect to discover Ben either rolling or crawling around the carpet as such as been a habit of his ever since he first learned to rock his body about a month ago, but instead, you didn’t see your child anywhere, making your heart drop into your stomach.
“Peter, he’s not here.”
“What do you mean ‘he’s not here’?” You husband doesn’t sound concerned, the meaning behind your words not processing in his mind.
You walk around the room distraughtly, looking on the other side of the coffee table and the two small couches,“ I mean he’s not here. I don’t see him!”
It only takes seconds for Peter join you in the living room, panic sketched across his face when he realizes you aren’t just pulling his leg. The baby really is nowhere in sight causing both of you to franticly search for him, your minds racing as would any parent’s if in your situation.
“I only left him for a minute at best! How could he have crawled away that fast? Babies aren’t that fast, right?” Peter runs down the hallway, his eyes scanning the floor in search of his son. He even looks around the bedroom and bathroom despite both doors having been shut just on the off chance that Ben somehow got inside.
“I don’t see him, Peter! How-How could he have just disappeared like this? How did we lose our baby?!” You get onto the ground yourself, checking under the couches and tables then dashing into the kitchen in hopes that lil’ Ben had tried crawling in there after his father. No luck.
“Maybe we’re just missing him?”
“How do you miss a baby, Peter!? It’s a baby!” Your hands are on your head, your fingers digging into your hair as you face your husband, your thoughts racing over how terrible of a mother you must be to lose your six-month-old baby.
“I don’t know-!” Peter doesn’t finish his sentence, instead jumping back when a small drop of water hits his forehead. Even you notice, both of you looking up ever so slowly from each other to where the droplet had fallen from. The sight makes your eyes widen and hearts race even more than they have been if that’s even possible.
“…Peter?”
“…Yes, dear?”
“W-What the fuck?!”
Both of your eyes are locked on the ceiling, or better put, on your son;your six-and-a-half-month-old son who is hanging upside down directly above your husband with his signature two-tooth grin and a line of drool dripping from his puffy lips. All either of you could do is stare for what felt like an eternity, that was, until you break the silence with a cry.
“Peter, get him down!”
Your husband snaps out of his trance, leaping up and easily grabbing hold of your son, although, he has a bit of difficultly with the 'getting him down’ part. Moving his knees to the ceiling, Peter gently tugs on Ben, yet the baby’s hands and knees remain glued to their spot,“ he won’t let go.”
“What do you he won’t let go? Just pull him off.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
You think for a second before standing on the coffee table, but even on your toes, you can’t exactly reach him, your fingertips only barely brushing against Ben’s back. He babbles, reaching one hand out to you with a grabby motion,“ don’t let him fall, Peter.”
“I won’t.”
“Come on, Ben. Let go and come to mama. You want mama, right?” At last, Ben removes his other hand, reaching it out to you with his knees becoming unstuck soon after. Peter’s hand on his back prevents him from falling, allowing him to slowly lower Ben into your safe arms where you’ve never held onto him so tightly before.
Peter falls to your side, the two of you searching Ben for any injuries before looking into each other’s flabbergasted eyes. You open your mouth, although, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. You don’t get the chance anyways. A ring echoes through the apartment as well as a soft knocking at the front door which makes both of your mouths fall open.
“…Shit. SHIT!”
“Language-uh, the baby!” Peter fusses even though he’s saying the same word inside his head. The realization hits you both like a train. You know Ben takes after Peter in both looks and personality, but powers to? You have a baby who sticks to walls and you’re only just figuring this out the second your family arrives?!
“What do we do? How do we explain Ben sticking to stuff?”
“We don’t. Here, I’ll get the door and watch over Ben while you finish dinner,” you go to hand Ben over to Peter, but when you hold him out, his hands remain stuck to your shirt. You whine Peter’s name, remaining frozen as he tries to shake Ben’s grip from you to no avail.
“Okay, new plan. I’ll get the door, you finish dinner. Don’t. Ruin. It,” there’s no time for arguing or new plans, another ring sounding off from the front door. Putting on your best 'I didn’t just find my baby on the ceiling’ smile, you hurry to the door with Ben while Peter dives into the kitchen.
“Hi,” you sing when seeing May and your parents together, stepping aside to let them in while praying they won’t notice your alarmed state,“ it’s good to see you all again. Please come in.”
“It’s always great to see you, too, (Y/n), as well as this little cutie, of course,” May waves at Ben with a bright smile which grows when he giggles at her, trying to hide his face against your shirt. Meanwhile, you give both of your parents the best side hug you can while also holding Ben’s unwavering grip as far away from touching any of them as possible.
“Oh, he’s gotten so much bigger since the last time we visited. You’re making your grandma feel old, little bug,” your mother coos at her grandson, reaching her arms out to take him from you only to be confused when you suddenly turn your body away sharply.
You’re quick to redirect the conversation before she can be offended,“ Peter’s in the kitchen finishing dinner so we can all sit in the living room until it’s done. Please excuse the mess, we didn’t have much time to clean up Ben’s toys.”
“No one’s going to blame you. Having kids is a messy business,” your father jokes, the three of them heading into the living room with you in their trail. With their backs turned, they are completely unaware of your internal dread as you fruitlessly attempt to pry Ben from your shirt once again. Peter has told you about how much he stuck to everything when he first got his powers, but this is ridiculous not to mention poorly timed!
Once everyone’s seated, you give an quick excuse while dodging your way into the kitchen where you find your husband rushing to get the sauce made with his limited cooking skills.
“Ben, come to dada,” he calls, providing you a small bit of relief when Ben listens and reaches for him, although, his leg remains stuck to your shirt. The two of you gently fight with him for a moment, trying to weaken his grip without too much force when a voice comes up behind you.
“I baked a pie for dessert; it’s Peter’s favorite. Should I just set it here?” By the time May looks up from her pie tin, Peter’s arms are around your waist, pulling you to him with Ben sandwiched between you both, not that the little guy minds, in fact, he seems to loving the extra attention he’s receiving.
“Yep, that’s fine,” Peter gives a rushed nod, swiveling the two of you so that he can lean over to kiss May’s cheek as she sets the pie on the corner next to him,“ it’s good to see you, May.”
“And you, too, Peter. I see your doing an excellent job raising your little one. He looks just like you did when you were his age. Oh, I’m sure he’s just the handful, too,” luckily, May’s oblivious to your strange behavior as well as the praying Peter is doing in his head as he watches her run a hand through Ben’s fluffy hair, both of you begging it not to stick. For the first time that night, fate is on your side with May successfully removing her hand from Ben.
The three of you share a short conversation, Peter never faltering his grip on you. Despite May’s various offers of help, he finally manages to convince her to wait in the living room while the two of you worry over dinner. With a relieved sigh once she exits, Peter turns to you only to be horrified by the look on your face as Ben tugs on a rather thick handful of your hair, the expression you’re giving your husband already saying it all.
You can hear May and your parents talking lively in the living room, unaware to the snipping of scissors as Peter cuts your hair from Ben’s grip. Although he tries to cut the least amount of hair as possible, you know by his grimace afterwards that it’s noticeable. He switches the scissors for Ben, taking him into the living room while you disappear into the bathroom to get a hair tie, putting your hair into a messy ponytail to hide the evidence.
From there on, it feels like you’re looking into the room every few seconds as you do the finishing touches to dinner. You know Peter’s just as worried by the various glances he sends towards the kitchen whenever no one’s looking at him. He makes every excuse in the book as to why no one can hold Ben while keeping him directly on his lap and far away from any other objects.
It’s as if you can read each other’s minds, knowing exactly what is at risk if anyone sees your baby’s tight grip. While they may not link it back to Spiderman directly, you’d eventually have to admit it just to keep them from ushering you to the doctors for your child’s strange 'disease’. Believe it or not, but neither of you really want to have that long conversation explaining to everyone that Peter’s not only Spiderman, but that his warped DNA has unexpectedly managed to passed down to the next generation.
Even when dinner’s ready, Peter doesn’t move Ben far from himself. You make your husband a plate, pressing a kiss against his cheek and ignoring Ben’s grabby hands as you pass by. As much as it kills you inside to hear Ben’s cries for attention, you let Peter convince him to sit with dada on the chair you had pulled up for them while mama sits with Auntie May on one couch, your parents together on the other.
“He sure loves his daddy, doesn’t he?” Your mother comments. Fortunately, you’re half away through dinner and no one’s noticed anything off yet.
“Yeah, his dada’s little boy. Aren’t you, Lil’ Ben?” Peter hums with a genuine smile while squeezing Ben’s cubby hand. Afterwards, Peter’s easily able to pull his own hand away from his son’s adhesive skin. ‘Must be nice’, you think.
“You’re gonna have to drop him off with us sometime, you know. He needs to learn he can get spoiled at grandma and grandpas,” your dad chuckles, leaning back in his chair with his empty plate balanced on his knee.
“It looks to me he’s already pretty spoiled here,” May jokes with a look of fondness while watching her nephew share his meal with his son one silly face and small fork full at a time. Ben’s admiration is clear by the way he stares up at his daddy with glittering eyes and a spaghetti-stained face, a look Peter shares (minus the stained face since May thankfully taught him long ago not to be messy when he eats).
“…Dada’s boy for sure,” you can’t help but smile yourself with one look towards your husband and son. Yeah, Ben’s powers are going to be a pain to deal with and it’ll scare the life out of you if he ever decides he wants to fight crime like daddy, but nothing could ever make you love your son any less. For the time being, you’ll just have to find a way to control his powers. Sure, your family is going to be disappointed when you don’t let them hold Lil’ Ben tonight, but it isn’t as if he’s going anywhere. Once your husband and you figure everything out, you’ll be able to invite them over for a much better dinner-
“-D..da..dada,” your eyes go wide as do everyone else’s when hearing the tiny yet clear voice, all eyes turning to the source, however, when you do, you’re surprised to notice that Ben isn’t looking at Peter. Instead, his head is facing forward with his cubby hand reaching towards the muted TV screen or, more specifically, towards the picture of Spiderman that’s showing on the news.
It takes every ounce of will power for Peter not to immediately burst with joy, agreeing with Ben in front of everyone and encouraging him that it is, in fact, dada on screen. Instead, he must suffer with that bubble of happiness in silence the same way you do as your eyes dart between your husband’s face to your baby’s.
“I guess Spiderman sure made quite the impression on the little bug,” your mother reckons in awe.
“Was that his first word?” May asks in surprise and you nod wordlessly, Peter being too busy holding a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt at blocking his giddy laughter. He has to force himself not to shake you while gushing about over Ben saying ‘dada’.
“Damn, not even to his own dad?” Your mother elbows your father for his remark, hissing at him to be quiet.
“We shouldn’t be too upset, I guess. Spiderman’s a great guy, after all; someone good Ben can look up to, right Peter?” You smirk, placing a hand over his free one while his other is still preoccupied hiding the massive grin over his face that would look far too strange on the face of a father who supposably just heard his son call someone else 'dada’. You can’t blame him, though. Even you can’t suppress the grin as you look you down at Ben,“ dada’s right here, honey. Can you say it again? Dada?”
“Dada?” Peter finally speaks, tickling Ben’s arm to gain his attention,“ dada. Da-da.”
“Da…dada,” Ben watches Peter’s mouth, following the movements and sounds he heard. He smiles at the bright look his daddy gives him, repeating the word once more with both hands outstretched in attempts to grabbing his face,“ dada!”
“That’s right, Ben! Dada!” Peter lifts him up, holding him in a standing position so that Ben could actually put his hands against his cheeks,“ dada…and that’s mama. Can you say mama? Ma-ma. Ma-ma.”
Ben looks to you, staring for a moment while babbling the sounds he’s hearing before finally getting it right after quite a bit of practice,“ mama.”
“Yes, I’m mama,” laughing cheerfully, you run a hand through his fluffy hair, not even considering the possibly that it could’ve gotten stuck. You’re too happy to worry over that.
Ben giggles, looking back to Peter and reaching across his face. Even with his sticky hands, Peter doesn’t mind, pressing his forehead to his son’s as they both laugh. Your mother and May gush about how cute they both are while your father sits back with a smile of his own. The joy everyone feels over witnessing Ben’s first words is enough to distract your guests from your strange behavior throughout the night, eventually excusing your habits of not letting them hold the baby as the two of you must just be soaking up the moment with your son.
By the end of just three hours, your parents and May depart from the apartment but not without making you promise to bring Ben to visit them soon. Once everyone is out the door, you shut it with a tired sigh that turns to a gentle smile when you hear Ben’s babbling behind you.
“Ma-Mama,” turning around, you’re greeted by your smiling husband and baby, the later reaching out to you with grabby hands.
“That was fun,” Peter comments, brushing your hair back to press a kiss to your forehead as you take Ben from him, fully aware it’ll be a fight to pry him away from yourself later. Looking from your child to your husband, you already expected the giant grin plastered on his lips,” Ben said his first words. He called me 'dada’!“
"Technically he called Spiderman 'dada’ meaning you’ve got some competition for the role, Mr. Parker,” you tap Ben’s noise, smirking when Peter rolls his eyes, his arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him, but your smirk soon turns into a frown, a sigh escaping your lips again,“…what are we going do now? They may not have seen anything tonight but May wants us to visit next week and if any of them ever notice Ben sticking to stuff, they’ll eventually realize why he called Spiderman 'dada.”
“I know…May would be heartbroken if she found out you had an affair with Spiderman, but I guess no one can really blame you. Word on the street is he’s pretty hot not to mention excellent in bed. How is a normal guy like me to compete?” Peter jokes, causing you to whine his name in halfhearted annoyance. He chuckles, moving to kiss your lips, although, he only gets a small peck before you move away with a pout.
“Peter, I’m being serious. I don’t care so much about our family knowing, but if the wrong person finds out, what will happen?”
Now it’s Peter’s turn to sigh, his forehead resting against yours,“ then we make sure no one does…I’ve been through all of this before, I know what to expect. I’ll teach Ben how to control his powers and, as he gets older, we’ll make sure he understands that Spiderman and his dad need to be separate people.”
When you lift your head, your lips slightly brush against his,“ and if he decides to fight crime while wearing bright spandexes?”
“I’ll give him 'the talk’,” he simpers, his hot breath blowing against your lips before he finally rids of the gap with the deep kiss he’s been waiting for all night.
“…Peter?” You break away, but the distance only lasts a second before Peter’s lips are back on yours.
Overview: Your husband’s spider-sense has been acting up quite a bit lately, making him paranoid that something will happen to you if he can’t locate the threat in time.
Twelve years ago, if someone were to ask Peter Parker what the best thing to ever happen to him was, he would’ve made up a convincing lie while secretly thinking about the radioactive spider bite that granted him his powers, but if someone were to ask Peter Parker the same question now, he won’t hesitate to gush about his wonderful wife instead (although, the spider bite will still be a close second, no doubt).
Peter adores you, something no one in their right minds can deny without the man making it his personal mission to prove them wrong and you’re really no different yourself, often spending entire nights cursing out the person who just sent your husband home to you bloody and bruised. During those nights, Peter likes to close his tired eyes and imagine the hell you’d try to give his enemies if you ever happened across them in person which always rises a chuckle from his lungs especially when you notice his thoughts, insisting on the damage you could do despite not having any powers of your own. ’Never underestimate an angry wife’ is what you always say, and Peter never makes the mistake of forgetting it.
Being Peter Parker’s wife has plenty of benefits, your favorite simply being that get to call yourself Mrs. Parker, a title you wear with pride after having dreamed about it since the beginning of your relationship (and even before it, honestly). If you could look into a mirror at the same time that you introduce Peter as your husband, you’d see the sparkle of happiness that tinkles in your eyes. Telling others that Peter’s yours causes your heart to swell, but not nearly as much as it does when he introduces you as his wife. No mirror is required to see the joy that takes over his own expression then. Nearly five years of marriage and you both continue to act like giddy teenagers when it comes to your relationship. Chances are, that’s not going to change anytime soon either.
Peter is an extremely loving husband who does all he can to ensure you never forget his admiration towards you whether it’s through small gifts like bouquets of handpicked flowers, poorly cooked yet well intended candlelight dinners, or even simple words of affection throughout the day. For Peter, all the stresses of his life melt away under your presences alone whether it’s when you’re wordlessly laying with your legs over his lap while reading on the couch or when you’re patching him up after a particularly rough patrol, your attention fixated on your work until he steals it with deep kisses and roaming hands. Where most of your friends complain that their husbands seem distant after a few years or less, you have yet to experience that yourself and so long as Peter’s around, you doubt you ever will.
Of course, it’s not to say your marriage with Peter doesn’t have its challenges, the biggest drawback being the fact that it isn’t just Peter who you married. When you recited your vows all those years ago, promising to always love and protect the man in front of you, unknown to all of your guests, you hadn’t just meant Peter, but also his alter ego, Spiderman.
Being married to Spiderman is a little more demanding than if you were simply married to the ordinary side of Peter. Most nights, Peter’s out saving New York City, sometimes not returning until the earliest hours of the morning, however, that isn’t what bothers you the most about his second job. Yes, it gets lonely at times, but say the word and Peter will spend each second he can in-between with you. What troubles you the most is the constant condition he returns in once his superhero work is done.
Peter Parker is a good man at heart. He’d do anything to protect New York and his loved ones, but even with his spider-like powers, he isn’t invincible. It never matters how much he assures you otherwise, you have always understood from the day he told you about his secret that you could lose him at any moment which is a day you can never stop fearing.
Peter shares a similar fear, being notorious for worrying over your safety and how his heroic activities might put you in more danger that he can stand. Spiderman had made too many enemies over the years, most of which would be ecstatic to discover the masked vigilante they despised is married to you. Peter could never forgive himself is something happens to you, therefore, he can be rather protective especially under certain circumstances. Crimes are on the rise in New York? Maybe you should work from home today. He recently pissed off some new supervillain? Yeah, he’ll stay in a motel for a few nights just to be sure they don’t track him down to you. His spider-senses have been going off none stop for the last two days? Forget him leaving your side.
You don’t need spider-senses of your own to know something is wrong with your husband’s. His strange behavior lately is enough to give you that guess on its own. While it isn’t necessarily unheard of him to suddenly get anxious, usually he discovers the cause right away whether it’s a crime occurring around the corner or that one time someone tried to steal your purse as the two of you walked home after visiting May, but whatever it ended up being, it has never lasted for as long as his current worries.
It all began at around 1:00am yesterday when Peter suddenly jerked you awake, scaring the daylights out of you with the claim that someone was in the apartment, but after an extensive search of the area, he found nothing alarming. Even so, he continued to fidget all night, his strong arms snaked around your midsection as they held your back to his chest, your hands intertwined together. When you had questioned him about it directly, he mumbled into your hair that he ‘just didn’t feel right’. Needless to say, neither of you got much sleep that night both due to Peter’s restlessness and the shared anticipation for something bad happening.
You had awoken again around noon, not too surprised to find yourself alone in bed with a note on the bedstand telling you to have a good day with a little reminder of your dinner plans at a new sushi restaurant down the street. Not feeling the greatest due to your lack of sleep the night before, you spent most of the day being lazy, snacking on crackers and watching tv from bed until Peter came home. By the time he walked through the front door with a bright smile on his face, you had disregarded the morning’s situation with his spider-sense, however, when he embraced you, his body tensed and his head flinched to the side, wordlessly telling you his anxiety had returned.
Deciding he was may be stressed with work and in need of a break, the two of you continued with your previously planned dinner date, one that didn’t end out as well as you had hoped due to you getting a bad case of food poisoning. While holding your hair back as you threw up all of your stomach’s contents, Peter made a hopeful comment about how the food positioning must’ve been what his spider-senses were worried about all day, but alas, the second he joined you in bed that night, the tingling feeling came back with an extra bite.
Considering all the factors, Peter reached the conclusion that something’s wrong at home and if something’s wrong at home, he refuses to leave until he has discovered the threat. Perhaps it’s selfish, but New York City comes second to his wife, so throughout the day, the two of you have searched for anything that could be out of place to not avail. No alarms are going off signaling a gas leak, there’s no smell of anything burning not to mention you checked all of the outlets, nothing is out of place to raise suspicion of having been robbed…and yet Peter’s spider-sense is still bothering him.
By noon, you opted to just ignore it, craving subs from the corner deli shop for lunch, however, Peter argued against the idea, refusing to let you go anywhere so long as he feel so anxious, but after some pouting and moping on your part, he felt guilty enough to cave in, the two of you creating a compromise that he’d take you to get subs if you stayed directly at his side the whole time. So long as you get to drool over the sight of the mouthwatering subs, you didn’t mind.
“It’s like when I first got bitten; before I knew how to control my powers. There’s something driving my spider-sense crazy and I just can’t find it,” Peter complaints to you out loud, watching from his spot on the kitchen counter as you cut the two subs in half,“ I felt it when we went out to the deli, but if I go into the bedroom or living room, I don’t feel it…You’re not poisoning my food, are you?”
You chuckle with a shake of your head at the question that many wives would find insulting,“ nope, afraid not, love.”
Peter huffs in annoyance, although, it isn’t aimed towards you. Instead, it’s aimed towards his powers. Why are they acting up so suddenly after twelve years? Is he losing them or his control? That can’t be it since everything else is fine like his healing and strength. Only his spider-sense is being difficult.
“It’s strange. You’re sure it just started yesterday?” You glance over your shoulder at him while setting each slice of the subs on two plates accompanied by a handful of chips (or two hands in the case of your plate).
Peter nods when you look at him,“ when I woke you up. It kept up until I got up again in the morning then was fine all day at work until I got home. Even at the sushi restaurant, I felt it.”
You grimace at the memory, pointing the butter knife at him accusingly,“ there was a reason for that time! That was the worse food poisoning I’ve ever had in my life. In case you already forgot, I was throwing up forhours. I’ll never eat sushi again!”
Peter smiles, his cheek resting against his fist which was propped up on his knee,“ give it two weeks and you’ll be wanting to go back.”
“Doubt it,” you gag, passing the two plates over to him to take to the living room while you circle around to the fridge to grab two cans of soda.
“They need to update their slogan from 'best subs in Queens’ to 'best subs in New York’. It was the right call to get lunch there, babe,” he comments, looking down at the messy sandwiches while taking a seat on the couch with a smile which grew when he heard you snicker.
“Five years of marriage and you still doubt your wife, Mr. Parker. When will you learn that I’m always right?” You set one can of soda on the coffee table in front of him before taking your plate from his hand and moving to join him on the couch, that was, until he suddenly grabbed your wrist, stopping you in place,“…what is it, Pete?”
Peter doesn’t answer. He isn’t even looking directly up at you yet his eyebrows are furrowed, his face scrunched up in concertation as he focused on the tingling of his nerves.
“…Take a step back?” It sounds like a question when he lets go of your wrist, not looking to you. You raise an eyebrow at him, but follow his words, nonetheless, walking backwards until you’re nearly in the kitchen again, your plate of food balanced over the palm of your hand,“…come back…”
You can’t help but roll your eyes, walking back over to the couch and sitting down at last,“ you’re sure acting weird lately- weirder than usual, that is.”
Still, he doesn’t answer you, instead standing from the couch wordlessly. You turn your attention away from your food, frowning at your husband who stares down at you with narrowed eyes before slowly kneeling in front of you. You hum your concern, setting your plate on your lap so that you could move your hands to brush against his hair. He continues to stare at your midsection silently before his eyes go wide, his mouth slightly agape.
“Pete? What’s wrong, hun?”
“…I found it.”
“Found what?”
He looks up at you, his eyes twinkling in both the light of the apartment window and the beads of water in them. His hands moved to your stomach, pressing against it ever so carefully as if it is the most precious thing in the world.
“…Why my spider-sense has been going off…That’s why I felt someone else in the apartment the other night and why I only feel it whenever I’m directly around you,” his words became increasingly more rush and excited as his sat up a bit taller so that he can move his hands to your cheek while possibly the widest smile you’ve ever seen tugged at each end of his lips, “ you’re pregnant!”
“H-Huh?” Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide, one hand subconsciously moving to your stomach as the other moved to set your plate completely to the side, the food you waited so desperately for completely forgotten,“ b-but…how would you…?”
It makes sense the more you consider it. The two of you are married and like any loving married couple, well, you take part in quite a bit of ‘intimacy’ which you both have recently started taking less precautions with. It isn’t as if you’ve been actively trying for a baby, but you also haven’t been actively trying to prevent one either. One could say that you had both agreed on having a kid or two at some point while the fear of being parents still wavered your minds, leading you both to conclude it would be easier to let fate decide what will happen and when.
Once Peter’s words fully process in your mind, you are quick to stand to your feet with your husband following directly in your trail on the way to the bathroom. You practically tear it apart in search for the tests you had bought three months ago, shooing Peter out once you locate them. Even then, you can hear him pacing just outside the door, mumbling out loud to himself over the likelihood. You two have definitely been intimate as of recently, your period isn’t due for another week so it hasn’t given you the chance to notice it’s possible absences, but you’ve been tired and sick while also eating more than usual, and he only gets his spider-senses around you especially when your stomach is closest to him…he’s certain your pregnant, but at the same time, he refuses to get his hopes up too much before it’s confirmed (not that they aren’t already all the way up with the chance alone).
After what felt like hours to Peter, you open the door, the little white stick in your hands as you stare at him with wide eyes. At first, he worries he had been wrong, but when you suddenly leap at him, your arms flung around his shoulders as you laugh and cry at the same time, he lets all those doubts wash away with happy tears of his own. His spider-senses were never alerting him of a threat, only to his child’s existence inside your womb; the tiniest of heartbeats calling out to him from the moment it began.
“You’re pregnant! We’re going to be parents!” Your laughter increases when Peter effortlessly spins you around before setting you down and eagerly kissing you. When you both pull away from the deep kiss, he runs a hand through his hair giddily,“ we’re gonna be parents! I’m gonna be a dad! I-I gotta call Aunt May! She’s going to be so happy, but first-”
He barely gives himself time to finish his own sentence, peppering you in countless butterfly kisses with one hand on your hip and the other over your stomach where he could now knowingly sense his unborn son or daughter growing.
…It looks like the radioactive spider bite is now in third place for the best things to ever happen to Peter Parker.
You weren’t sure if it was the whispered knocking you somehow heard or the slight shift of red and blue you spotted in the corner of your eyes, but either way, you found your attention being drawn away from your laptop screen to the bedroom window where a familiar culprit stood on the fire escape outside. Regardless of his identity being hidden behind his infamous mask, you could perfectly visualize the goofy smile he had pulling at his lips just by the way he seemed to perk up when noticing he had gained your attention at last. You could also make the assumption that he was silently begging you to provide him refuge from the cold, a gift he was most thankful for after long patrols on winter nights.
Removing yourself from the bed, you hurried to open the window, allowing your friend to finally slip inside where the room’s warmth welcomed him with a wave of comfort compared to the chilled breeze of New York City’s air. Even you shivered upon feeling the icy air which managed to seep inside after him before you could close the window again,“ what are you doing out so late? It’s freezing.”
“I’ve been out later in colder weather,” he dusted off your worry which a shrug. By the time you turned around, he already had his mask off, allowing you to confirm that he did, in fact, wear that sideways smile of his that never failed to make your heart swell,“ besides, it’s New Year’s Eve. Everybody’s out late.”
“A lot of crime I’m guessing?” You scanned over his body with your eyes, a habit you had developed after the first few times your friend had showed up battered at your window. Such was usually the main reason he visited as his alter ego. Although you were no doctor, you could bandage him up better than he could himself not to mention your presence alone made him feel better after long nights of fighting villains. Surprisingly, he looked unscathed for once with no visible wounds at least.
“Not really. It looks like there’s a lot of police out doing the work for me tonight,” he answered happily while glancing around your room, taking note of the glowing laptop set aside on your bed. He felt a small amount of relief knowing he hadn’t woken up even if he doubted he would’ve. He was certain you stayed up late most nights especially considering his frequent nightly visits,“ is your family home?”
“My mom already went to sleep, and you know my sister. She gets so absorbed in her games that she wouldn’t notice an earthquake,” it wasn’t unusual for him to worry about your family’s whereabouts since it wouldn’t exactly look the best if your mother or sister entered your bedroom only to find you whispering to a half-naked Peter Parker dressed as Spiderman while you patched his wounds. Your mother would surely freak out, and your sister couldn’t keep her mouth shut long enough to not tell everyone she knows who Spiderman is; neither situation would be good.
While his questions about your family never surprised you, his next question made you raise an eyebrow,“ do you have your coat?”
“My coat? Why?”
“I have something I want to show you and it’s cold out.”
“Peter, it’s 11:30 at night and 8 degrees outside. Where would we even go this late?”
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Peter nor were you against hanging out at the moment, after all, you were best friends and spend most of your time together already, but that was with Peter Parker, not Spiderman. Refusing to ever put your life in possible danger, the idea of anyone seeing you by Spiderman’s side never sat well with Peter, therefore, he normally refused to even chance it. The only exception he made was to visit you after his patrols, but even that took a great deal of convincing after the first occurrence. All it took was one enemy or even the Daily Bugle to spot you together which would risk the wrong people discovering you were something special to the hero and as a hero, it was never a good idea to have someone openly special to you. Peter would never forgive himself if you gained so much as a scratch from someone trying to get to him. So, why was he going to risk it tonight?
His hand reached for the back of his neck, his smile turning into one born of nerves. You could’ve sworn there was even a bit of pink to his cheeks, but maybe that was just due to the cold,“ it’s a surprise.”
You hummed in wonder, too tired to decipher where you could possibly be going so late on a holiday. Nevertheless, you agreed, after all, who were you to deny spending New Year’s Eve night with your favorite guy? You loved Peter enough to spend every night with him if he asked.
~ ~ ~
Ever since the night you found out Peter was Spiderman, you wondered what it was like for him to spend his nights swinging around New York City, being granted a bird’s eye view of all the shining lights and tiny people walking below. You had imagined it was especially beautiful during the holiday season…Well, you couldn’t really say it was as amazing in person compared to those daydreams.
It was a wonder that Peter hadn’t complained about how tightly you held onto him, your legs locked around his waist like a boa constrictor with your arms wrapped a little less tightly around his neck as to not choke him, however, you still held on tight enough to remain firm against his chest. Deep down, you knew Peter would never drop you. He had promised as much from the second you stepped onto the fire escape to the moment he actually leaped into the air not to mention he never dared take his left arm off of your back, only using his right to swing around. Regardless, you refused to let your grip falter as he kept your head tucked against the crook of his neck, the cold air burning your cheeks and causing your eyes to tear up anytime you gained the courage to glance down at the streets below. You had no idea how Peter did it every night; the constant shifts between free falling before suddenly being jerked back up. Luckily, you had been on enough carnival rides to not throw up.
"You hanging in there?” Peter glanced down at you, the hint of teasing obvious in his voice.
“How much further?” You only answered his question by pushing your face closer against his suit, your entire body shivering despite having the thickest coat you owned on. You were really going to chew him out later for not wearing a warmer outfit himself during the winter months.
“Almost there,” he chuckled, taking a hard right that jerked your bodies to the side,“ your hood up?”
You only nodded, having been careful to keep the top of your hood pressed against his chin to prevent it from blowing back. You hadn’t been surprised to find Peter had one major condition for taking you out with him as Spiderman: keep your hood up at all times. While anyone could see Spiderman swinging around with a random girl, no one would be able to see your face well enough to identify exactly who you were. Of course, you had no objects to this rule especially considering how cold it was.
Suddenly, the streets became louder, the sound of cheering echoing out the harsh wind that blew past your ears the entire time. Peeking your eyes open again, you looked down upon the hundreds of people below the two of you, most of which were wearing top hats, cheap beaded necklaces, and blow-up sticks which helped them compete against each other when making as much noise as possible. While some of the crowd’s cheering became directed towards Peter as they took instant notice to Spiderman swinging above, most of the attention was strictly focused ahead as everyone watched the glowing ball upon the One Times Square building.
Finally, Peter landed, carefully lowering you down while warning you to watch your step. Hundreds of feet above the street, you found yourselves on top of Times Square Studios where you not only had an amazing view of New York City’s biggest New Year’s Eve party, but also the famous Times Square Ball in which flashed various patterns of colors as it waited in the dark sky for its moment to truly shine. You could only stare in awe at it all. It was beautiful.
“Are you surprised?” Peter’s voice broke your thoughts, ripping your attention away from the celebration below to him. The lights of the billboards and street illuminated him, making the eyes of his suit practically glow thanks to their reflective surface.
Despite having lived in New York your entire life, you had never actually seen the New Year’s celebration in person. Your mother, forever a worrier, didn’t trust giant crowds, so allowing you to go just wasn’t an option. You had told Peter this a week ago as well as your wish to see the ball drop at least once in person, but you never actually considered he’d take it to heart. It was only a small point in a long night’s conversation you two had. To have him not only remember and take you to the celebration, but to also get you the practically the best seats out of everyone else-
“-This is amazing! Thank you, Peter,” you spun around, wrapping your arms back around his neck, this time in a tight embrace. He smiled under the mask, returning the embrace as he rested his chin against the top of your head. While it may not be visible, his heart warmed at both the sight of you happy and the feeling of having you so close yet again. It was a wonder that he managed to remember where Times Square was with having someone he held so dearly to his heart being held literally to his chest.
“I hoped you would like it. You said you’ve never been and neither have I. Who better to watch the new year start than with you?”
You smiled, the red of your cheeks no longer being due to the cold. Best friends or not, it made your stomach feel fuzzy to think Peter would think of you. Sure, you were the only person who knew he was Spiderman, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t have gone by himself. Hell, it would’ve probably been a great opportunity for him to ask someone like Gwen Stacey out. What girl wouldn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve with Spiderman?
Soon, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the roof of the building, Peter lying on his back with his arms folded under his head while you sat with your knees to your chest and gloved hands in your pockets, trying to keep as warm as possible. Five minutes till midnight. You could barely hear one of the concerts playing down on the street over the cheering crowd which made you even more thankful for being on your own little rooftop with just Peter.
“This year’s gone by too fast,” you broke the silence between the two of you, your eyes still locked forward at the building ahead,“ but it’s actually been a pretty good one, I have to say.”
You heard Peter shift to sit up, his leg brushing against yours due to the proximity between the two of you,“ what’s been your favorite part of the year?”
“Um…That one’s difficult. A lot’s happened. We’re officially juniors meaning we only have one year left, I finally got a driver’s license and a job…” you pretended to think long and hard about his question despite already having the exact answer in mind,“ I think I’m gonna have to say…finding out my best friend is Spiderman! Yeah, that’s a good one.”
You smiled at the memory even if it had been a terrifying occurrence at the time. Anybody would likely freak out when hearing a loud crash outside their window with a bleeding Spiderman being the culprit. You had been about to screamed for your mom when the injured hero pushed himself up, weakly begging you not to draw attention to him. While Peter hadn’t ordinally meant for you to find out about his alter ago especially in that way, you had recognized his voice immediately, your fear turning to instant worry as you ushered him inside, almost crying when you saw just how deep the cuts were over his chest.
“I guess it was a good thing I decided to crash on your fire escape that night then,” Peter gave a small laugh, looking to the sky above. He remembered how bad he felt when seeing how scared you were that night, but at the same time, there had always been a selfish part of him that was happy to know someone like you cared so much about a loser like him,“…I think that was my favorite part, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded, fidgeting with his gloved fingers,“ to be honest, having you know took a lot of stress of my shoulders…It’s not that I don’t love being Spiderman and all, but ever since I got bit by that spider, I’ve just felt…alone in it. I had no one to turn to, not even Aunt May or Uncle Ben. I didn’t have anyone to talk to after a rough night or to tell me how I was doing… Then you found out. I finally had someone to share it all with, someone to tell me I was actually doing a good job, to say that they supported me…and someone to pull me back when I got too far… It felt relieving especially with it being you of all people. I knew that if you were saying that what I’m doing is right, then I has to be true.”
"I really am proud of you, Peter,” you rested your head against his shoulder, smiling when you felt his rest his head on yours, “and Ben would be, too, just so you know.”
“I know…Thank you for always being there, (Y/n).”
“And thank you for trusting me. It’s not a small task to know a hero’s true identity, so I’m honored that you let me know even if it was by accident,” you nudged him with your elbow, causing him to chuckle and wrap him arm around your waist, pulling you closer to himself.
“It was the best accident of my life.”
You noticed the screen below the Times Square Ball was at a less than a minute now with the object in question beginning to lower from its stand, people on the streets below count down in sync with its movements. Lifting your head from Peter’s shoulder, you watched eagerly as the timer got closer and closer to the moment everyone waited for, the crowd growing louder with each tick of the clock.
Ten!
Nine!
Eight!
Seven!
Six!
You felt Peter shift, but you paid little attention to action, figuring he was just getting more comfortable.
Five!
Four!
Three!
Two!
ONE!
The crowd erupted into the loudest cheers you heard all night, fireworks exploding in sky and confetti raining down on everyone. You barely had time to process the hand that reached for your cheek, gently moving your face to the side until your lips met with another which applied the smallest amount of pressure that still managed to make your heart do backflips. Just as you began to close your eyes and enjoy the kiss, Peter had pulled away, staring down at you with his mask pulled up only slightly over his nose, just enough to expose the lower part of his face.
“Happy New Year’s, (Y/n),” he gave you a nervous smile, a dark red in which matched his suit painting his cheeks. You smiled brighter than the city lights, wasting no time in catching his lips against yours once again. Your arms snaked around his neck, the two of you laughing between peppered kisses that showed no sign of ended anytime soon.
Best Part of the New Year: Peter Parker becoming your boyfriend.
OVERVIEW: As a descent of an infamous assassin family, it’s only natural that you’ve never failed to accomplish your goals. Armed with years of flawless experience forged from the hardships of your life, you’ve ultimately become both respected and feared by most of New York. With unmatched skills paired with undying loyalty, you’ve never once hesitated to eliminate anyone who’s made the terrible choice of standing in either you or your boss’s way…so why did you spare Spiderman?
NOTE:This story attempts to use neutral details and original storylines in order to fit any version of Spiderman so that you, the reader, may choose the variant that you wish to fill the role whether it be Andrew Garfield, Tom Holland, Tobey Maguire, or someone else if you really want.
WARNINGS:This story will eventually contain mature content including swearing, violence, gore, and themes of mental illness. Reader discretion is advised.
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.”
Requested: no Published: January 2nd, 2022 Pairing: Established tasm!Peter Parker x Reader Prompt(s): none Warning(s): none Word count: 2.3k Author’s note: My obsession continues. I’m having waay too much with his character. Also Trixie!
While at it please read my “Way Too Far From Home” one shot because it does not want to appear in the tags no matter how many times I repost it.
“How was school today?”
You stopped fiddling with the asparagus in the corner of your plate. Your mother’s cheerful voice had you reaching for your cup of water if only to give work to your mouth, so you didn’t have to engage. It needed ice cubes, the water, because room temperature with steak for dinner was not a good choice. Still, you downed it because it meant no immediate answer was needed.
Placing the high glass back on the table, you managed an awkward smile and said, “Good.”
Because it was just that.
Good.
Nothing new, nothing special. Only grades and exams and a shit ton of assignments.
“Just good?” She enquired innocently, cutting her steak delicately.
“The steak’s nice,” you said instead. Your mother’s eyes went ablaze at the lack of response, and just as she opened her mouth to demand intimate detail about how your day went, your younger sister jumped out of her seat and pointed at the TV.
“Look mom! Spider-Man!”
“Trixie-” Your mother began to tell her to stay put, but with no avail.
The child of destruction had already leaped for the sofa, throwing herself over the armrest to get a better view of the TV. She rolled over twice between the fluffy blanket before she was happily settled in to watch…
The news.
Your heart leaped in your chest.
But your mother was watching you.
Don’t show it. Don’t show it.
Don’t give her a reason to suspect. Don’t let her know you’re interested (rightfully so) in what had happened to the masked hero. Especially not for the sole reason that it will give her ammo.
The woman had her suspicions.
“HE’S BLEEDING! OH MY GOOD MOM–”
Your eyes widened ever so slightly, and you dug into your mashed potatoes like a lunatic.
“Several eyewitnesses have confirmed what many already knew. Spider-Man had fallen down thirty stories and is currently…”
“How awful,” your mother mused, cradling the wine glass in her hand. She never had a thing for peace makers that weren’t wearing a badge, “Doesn’t Peter know him?”
Should have just given it to me straight, you thought. “No, Peter just takes pictures of him.”
“Just pictures?”
“Yeah?”
“You sure?”
You gave her a look, “I’m pretty sure I would know if my boyfriend was friends with Spider-Man.”
“Not just friends but,” she began conspiratorially, but waved a hand. “Never mind.”
Then, just as fate smiled your way and your mother began succumbing to the wine and lack of interest in your geeky boyfriend (for who she did not know just fell thirty stories!) a sound so close to a falling table reasoned in the hallway.
Your room.
Not the hallway.
“What was that?”
The steak turned ashen in your mouth.
Your little sister felt as though it was her duty to pipe in from the couch, “Maybe there’s someb-”
“A lamp!” You blurted out with vehemence, “The white one from Ikea. I must have left the window open. I should probably-”
You were already running across the living room. “Y/N! Come back here this instant!”
Trixie was cackling on her spot as if shedidn’t leap off the dining table herself. “Zero manners.” You leaned into her face to say the words and snatched the pillow beneath her, ruining her tangled bliss.
“Hey!”
You took two stairs at the time, barging through your room as if you knew a burglar was in there. Scanning the desk, on which the white lamp laid undisturbed, you turned to the beanbag in the corner.
Nothing.
Then the bed.
First thing you said was, “The sheets!”
“What?” Asked Peter groggily, as if he had slept nicely before you came raging through. He twisted in his Spandex suit to release pressure on the silk sheet you were so desperately trying to get away from him. “Your boyfriend’s bleeding and you’re worried about sheets?”
“They’re silk,” you said as if it answered everything, gathering the flowery pattern that kept slipping away. “And you’ll heal.”
He brought out a hand and webs shot out, grasping your wrist and pulling you to the bed when you almost teleported to the other side of the room. Peter was so out of it he just nuzzled himself against your fallen body and murmured an almost drunken, “You smell soo nice babe.”
“Stop it,” you were still hugging the sheets in your arms, willing yourself not give him any attention. You were so angry you could bite his ear clean off.
Stupid invasive thoughts.
“Y/N? Who are you talking to?” Your mother’s voice hollered from downstairs.
Fearing she would trek her merry way upstairs and find you in bed with a bloodied red and blue man (who still wore his mask), you released the sheets and grabbed Peter’s wrist. You lead the dangly muscle clad arm to the direction of the door handle, “Shoot.”
“What?” He mumbled in your neck, sending tingles running.
“Just…” You tried to ignore his warm breath, “Just shoot your webs Peter for the love of everything–”
Pop.
The door handle became a sticky mess, connected to the wall and door by unbreakable web. You sighed in relief and fell back against the pillow. It was silk too, but you didn’t have time to strip it clean. “I need to see those wounds.”
He groaned.
“I’m serious Peter,” you told him. “Take off your shirt. Or suit. Or whatever. Now.”
“So bossy.”
You snatched off his mask yourself, revealing a Peter Parker with nasty cuts all over his face. Upon seeing the look on your face, he brought his bloodied lip out in an innocent, broad smile as his cheek rested squished on your pillow. Blood trailed his face like tears.
“Let me get the aid kit,” you announced. “Clothes are coming off. Now.”
“Yes ma'am,” he smiled, muttering a happy, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
The aid kit was placed underneath your desk, settled in a big shoebox that once housed knee-high boots but had to give up the space in order for the emergency kit to settle in. “You have an aid kit in your room?”
You felt his eyes on your bottom as you pushed out the white leather chair and crouched beneath the big desk, half expecting to rattle your head against it because of his watchful eyes. His footsteps creaked the laminate flooring as he fought his suit, hopping from one foot to another. “Be quiet!” You said and retrieved the kit. “And yes, I do have an emergency kit in my room because you keep coming to me injured! Now take off the suit.”
“I’m trying,” Peter said beneath the suit that now clawed at his face, acting as a mask when it wasn’t. “I really am babe.” He added when he felt your own fingers attempting to grasp his suit. Every time you pinched a spot, the skintight cloth found it rebellious to slip right through.
“How do you even get this thing off?” You asked him, breathless at the lack of sudden air.
“Lots of practice.” He replied helpfully, his body unmoving as he allowed you to dot all over him. You found a good grasping spot just above his collarbone and yanked, feeling the material finally work alongside you. “And a vicious girlfriend. Ow.”
When at last the suit fell apart, you exhaled in relief but blanched at the sight of his chest.
He kissed your worried face away. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not,” you stated, pushed him down on the bed.
“Ooohkinky.”
“Shut up,” you couldn’t help but laugh, reaching for the aid kit. “You fell down thirty stories.”
“You saw?”
“No,” you shook your head grimly, settling his head on your lap. “I heard.On the news.”
He visibly cringed, no doubt feeling terrible that you had to found out that way. Was he in the wrong for not telling you that his today’s adventure was probably going to end with him in pain? Yeah, probably, he thought.
“Mom’s been a pain in my butt though,” you told him with fake chirpiness, dabbing the antiseptic on his nose. He seethed but said nothing, being an obedient boyfriend after putting you in such a frenzy. “Almost told her that the punk she calls Spider-Man might very well be her son-in-law. God she’s infuriating.”
Peter smiled big and wide, having heard nothing of what you said save for that one label.
“And Trix?” You began droning on, “It’s like she wants mom to know. Ever since youtold her who you were…”
Peter liked your sister. Liked the filterless kid with all his might. Even the purple temporary color in her hair that she always begged you put on her. He thought it was cute that she already had such a strong personality. Smart mouth and dye in her hair.
And his biggest fan.
Then a knock on the door. Your head whipped mid wound cleaning.
“It’s Trix,” Peter supplied.
You threw a bandage at the door. It didn’t make it farther than Peter’s knee. “Go away!”
“Please!”
Throwing Peter’s head off your lap (gently) you stood up and brushed the creases off your pants. His blood blended with your dark shirt, so you were less worried about traumatizing your sister. You took a step toward the door before Peter pulled you to him. “What are you doing?” You whisper-shouted, careful not to touch his injuries after you landed on top of him.
He mouthed one word. Kiss.
“What for?”
Peter rolled his eyes, “To make it better. It’s a condition.”
“Oh? A condition?” You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head. “You’re setting up contidions?”
“It’s in the contract,” he supplied, running a hand beneath your loose shirt. “Y'know, no big deal.”
“Really? No big deal?”
“Mhmm.”
You were about to make his wish come true when he raised his head and stole one for himself. Then another. And another. “Peter…” You said in between each kiss, giddy despite the fact worry cruised through your veins. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” he replied proudly and settled back, his torso naked for all to see. Not wanting to traumatize your sister, you at last grabbed the silken material you so desperately tried to save and threw it on him.
“Behave,” you pointed a finger, grabbed scissors off the desk and yanked them into the web. “I believe it’s in the contract.”
“No it’s not.”
“Oh I think it is,” you told him with a light smirk, “It’s under mutuality of obligation. Both parties agree that Peter Parker must listen to his girlfriend at all times,” you pointed at yourself with the scissors. “Aka me.”
His chuckle was the last thing heard before the web broke apart and a small body of a child barreled through, ear first and then the rest of her body following.
“Were you eavesdropping?” You asked your sister after grabbing her by the elbow to prevent her fall.
Trxie fixed you a stare, “No I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” you and Peter said at the same time.
Her jaw went slack, “Peter!”
You rolled your eyes, shutting the door after peering into the hallway in search for your mother. “Great now we have an audience.” You said after shutting it.
“How are you feeling?” Trixie asked him, ignoring you. “I saw you on TV.”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine Trix,” he told her banged up. “No big deal.”
“I knew it,” she said, proud to have guessed right. If only she saw what lay beneath the sheet her hero was covered with. Trixie turned to you, “Mom’s sleeping.”
“Hallelujah.”
“So, Trix,” Peter tried to sound casual as you leaned against the table with your hip, daring him with your eyes to tell her how much it hurt. “H-how’s it going?”
She scooted closer to his head, and he grunted in pain, masking the action by coughing. Your eyebrows reached your hairline.
“Good,” Trixie’s hair fell beside his. “How are you doing?”
“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “I-I’m doing good Trix. Doin’ realgood.”
“Then why’d you fall down thirty stories?”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
“I saw everything,” she announced proudly, twisting until her cheek lay in her palm, elbow digging into the bed and everything. Peter, who still rested on his back looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Somebody filmed you and they played it on the news. It was in slow motion and everything.”
“You probably shouldn’t have seen that,” Peter told her. “Too graphic.”
“So what? I can take it.”
“You’re eight Trixie.”
“And you’re eighteen and can’t even do your job right.”
“O-kay, Trix,” you came in between, grabbing her leg and yanking her toward you. “That’s enough. Thank you for bruising his ego.”
“Yeah, thanks Trix.” Peter added, suddenly sour.
“No problem,” she said, confused as to why she was unrightfully being kicked out but still proud to receive thank yous.
“Yep,” you lead her by the shoulders, “Thanks for the audience kid.”
Just as you were about to close to door in her face did she announce, “Mom said you’re driving me to school tomorrow.”
“Sure,” you said, done with dealing with her. “Might even let Peter swing you there if you leave me alone.”
Her eyes sparkled, “You promise?”
She already had a finger out. You rolled your eyes and looped your pinky through hers. “Now leave us alone.”
“Done!” She skedaddled back to where she came from.
“Impossible,” you muttered after her and closed the door. “Can’t a woman have any peace-”
Peter suddenly stood incredibly close to you, some of his wounds already healed. “Thanks for the help Y/N but I really need to make my payment.”
“It’s in the contract?” You asked him, watching him nod eagerly. “All right then. Come and collect.”
He swooped in and kissed you long, hard and good.
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to mytag list! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
Requested: no Published: December 31st, 2021 Pairing: Established Peter Parker x Reader Prompt(s): none Warning(s): none Word count: 2k Author’s note: I’m obsessing over Andrew’s Spidey which is why I need to get all these ideas out of my system
You took a long look around yourself, catching breath with immense difficulty while among the scraper high building tops of the New York city skyline. Here at the peak, there was nothing but the East River and tinted windows to look at while your hair constantly whipped in your face. Your knees shook as you gripped the phone, crouching on the metal platform while you were cuffed against its railing. You had twisted and turned until your phone had somehow managed to fall to your ear.
“I, um,” you licked your dry lips and looked up and over your shoulder as if the flying man that had abducted you would show up and strangle you for good. Then turned to look ahead, whispering to not look down constantly into the dry air. The gaps in the platform were taunting as they revealed the bare bottom of the finest New York pavement. The pedestrians you knew were walking aimlessly over the very spot that could very well be your death bed should everything fall from beneath your sneaker clad feet. “Empire State Building?”
“How high?”
“Top high?”
“I’m on my way.”
The line went dead but you still kept the phone close to your ear as if his voice might penetrate through it again and give you the comfort you needed to not fall apart under preassure.
He was on his way, you kept telling yourself, picturing him swinging through the streets of New York to get you.
You pocketed the phone in your back pocket with a stifled groan, cursing at the sheer complexity of your situation while you stood on shaky feet with hands behind your back that howled in uncomfortable pain. Being snatched from a freaking restaurant was not on your days agenda. Being carried all the way to the top of Empire State and then leftthere, stranded and shaking, to fend for yourself while bound.
Thank goodness your data plan was solid.
Expensive, but solid.
The hairs on your neck rose, and you whipped your head around to look at the metal clad man before you. He had an eye missing, and now steel sat in its place, a result of whatever experiment he had done to himself to accomplish this new look. His hands shook with vibration, consequence of so much power brewing in them while his healthy russet eye beheld you there, tied and unmoving and so close to death. So close to falling to your demise.
You dared not to think about it.
“Hey there professor,” you willed your voice into cheerfulness, as you always did when you spoke to the man in class. Organic chemistry, he was teaching, and yet the only chemistry in his attire was the bright yellow liquid swimming in tubes attached to his arms. “How…how’s it going?”
He seethed and took a step closer. Dr. Edward Carlson, infamously known campus wide as Professor Combustion. Teaching at Columbia University. Now looking like a war criminal.
As if he heard your thoughts, fire escaped his fist.
Combustion indeed.
“Y/N,” you nodded against his words, stretching your lips into a humorless smile.
“That’s me,” you said in a sing-song voice, throwing a look at one of the building tops, eager to see a blotch of red and blue swinging your way.
You remember Peter’s words.
“Rule number one,” Peter told you, holding out a finger with his free hand. You both walked hand in hand through Columbia’s garden. “Stall.”
“Stall?” You repeated.
“Yeah,” he said simply, as if he said everything that needed to be said with just that one word had been revealed. “Like, if someone gets to you – which I will never let happen – you need to stall until I get there.”
“Stall with what? Pop culture random facts?”
Peter laughed, stumbling in his steps and halting you as well. You laughed lightly, “What?”
He shook his head and with a grin pulled you to him. “You’re adorable.”
“And deadly,” you added, feigning anger as you looked at him through your eyelashes, puffing out your cheeks while at it.
Peter’s hand cupped your cheek until you stood on your toes to let him kiss you. It was slow and steady, the kiss, filling you with warmth until your toes curled in your shoes. “You’re so deadly even I’m scared of you. And I’m Spiderman.”
“Hey professor,” you called out over your shoulder, listening to the scratching of metal against metal as he twisted and turned forward to assess you. “Right so…I…I don’t know why you’re doing this. Honestly sir, I’ve done nothing wrong. I mean, I did…but not to you sir. Like I’ve never done anything to-”
“Silence!”
Your bones stilled, but you pushed harder when you heard him walk away from you. When the sound of metal against metal became too far away. When you looked over your shoulder to see him preparing to ascend. To wreak havoc. “D-did you know sir,” you said with a light shout, and turned to the East River before his eyes could meet your own. “That they use real organs in Grey’s Anatomy. Like they’re actually real. Not real people organs per se, b-but like cow and stuff. I-I don’t know if they actually kill the cows – I mean I hope not – but like…fun fact! I know how much you love the show sir.”
Your laugh was pathetically weak.
But it came through.
“Really?”
Your heart galloped in your chest in a winning spirit. “Yes! Yes sir! One hundred percent legit. Actually-”
Awhoosh reasoned through the air, whipping your hair to the left and cutting off another pop culture reference. You released puffs of air to push the hair off your nose and eyes, hands tied behind your back and all. You vaguely heard Edward Carlson grunt before something detached itself from the Empire State building and fell right to the bottom that was so very far away. Your platform got the end of it, breaking and bending until you almost fell off.
You closed your eyes, feeling tears gather behind. Time passed where only the sound of falling debris made its way to your ears.
Then hands.
Strong hands grasping your shoulders and the metal that bounded you to the platform. “Peter?”
You watched his mask as he pushed his whole body against you, shielding you from the view you grew accustomed to. It was like a weight dropped from your chest now that there was something between you and the undeniable fear of falling. Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and arms, caging you in, protecting you as your chin rested on his shoulder and he grabbed the cuffs with both hands and finally ripped them apart.
Your sore wrists were freed, and you almost fell to your face.
Peter cupped your face in his hands, and barely, just barely could you make out the face beneath the mask. The familiar boy you adored. If only you hadn’t been so distracted by the howling wind and lack of air, perhaps then you could have seen the raging fear in his face. Peter pushed your hair from your face, “Ready?”
You nodded, “Yeah.”
Your voice was barely audible as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, then another around his other. Legs came next and you made them a solid force around his waist. He gripped your thighs as he settled you better against him and even gave your bum a few taps.
You didn’t realize how you had deflated in relief upon his casual behavior. “Ready? Count for me.”
Taking a deep breath, you tightened your grip on him and said, “One-”
He leaped off the building. You didn’t wait until three, you recall screaming in his ear like a banshee, holding him in an unyielding grip as webs shot out of his wrists, attaching themselves to edifices, windows and rooftops and everything else you couldn’t catch under the speed.
“Where do you wanna go?” Peter asked you mid jump, holding your waist with one hand.
“Where do-” You breathed, “Idon'tknow! Home?”
“Home it is.” He took a sharp turn into a street, then slowly he began lowering the acceleration, easing his swings as you made your merry way to the familiar building. You watched the sidewalk beneath you.
“Y/N?”
“José?” You gaped at the elderly man that sat on the stairs in front of your building. He turned to stand up and open the door for you to walk through, but Peter was quicker than José was – good intentions and all – scaling the lamppost as he said cheerfully, “Thanks José but we’re gonna take the other way.”
“What other way? There is no other way.” You distantly heard the man say. Webs shot out to a balcony, then another one, and another until at last Peter grabbed your balcony and hauled you both over it. There you were, on the safety of your balcony and nowhere near Empire State Building.
You still didn’t let go.
Peter hugged your thighs with his arms and eased. “You can let go now.”
You shook your head and hugged him closer.
Your boyfriend sighed in good humor and asked, patting your backside. “Keys?”
“It’s unlocked,” you muttered into his shoulder.
You could feel him shake his head as he began walking toward the balcony door. He jiggled the lock and found it true to your words, unlocked. “You should start locking your doors Y/N.”
“Okay,” was all you said.
Peter’s strides toward your quaint, clustered kitchen were long and powerful. He settled you onto the counter with ease and pulled his mask off with a tug. “What was that?” You asked him, remembering how the metal wrapped the man like a gift, the sound it made, how fearful it made you be. “What happened to him?”
Peter came back from your bathroom with a first aid kit and only then did you realize that there was blood running down your temple. It pounded, the pain seizing you with every move of your head. You faltered when he pulled out bandages and antiseptic wipes and saw that he didn’t hesitate when ripping open the latter. “I don’t know,” he replied softly and pressed the wipe against the wound without a warning. Hissing, you willed your body not to move but with no avail. Peter grabbed your jaw softly and held your face so he could clean it, “Take it easy tiger.”
He too had shallow cuts along his face, you noticed from the corner of your eye. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll heal,” he said simply, which was true and the only reason why you didn’t push further. “But you won’t which is why I gotta take care of you.”
“I can put a bandage on myself, thank you very much.”
Peter chuckled and patted your knee with his hand. You spread them wide so he could fit right between your legs, closing the gap between you so he had better access to the nasty, bloodied cut. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the leftover fear or his near proximity. “There we go,” your boyfriend clicked his tongue when the bandage finally covered the wound. “Good as new.”
“I bet,” you fixed your hair over it so that it wasn’t visible. The shakiness of your hands didn’t go unnoticed. His spidey sense made it easy for him to snatch your hands in his before you could pull them away.
“You’re shaking,” he observed, his thumbs brushing against your bloodied knuckles.
“Yeah, well,” you put on a bravado, “It’s not every day you’re tied up at the top of the Empire State building and left stranded.”
Despite the lightness in your tone, Peter visibly cringed. You leaned forward and kissed him. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve gotten there sooner…”
“It’s okay Peter really, I’mokay.” You said softly and embraced him long and steady, your arms through his.
He melted into your touch like butter.
It was blissful seconds before you couldn’t help yourself, “You stink.”
“I do?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh no.”
“You need to take a shower.”
His eyes filled with mischief, “Wanna help?”
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to my tag list! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
Requested:no Published: December 31st, 2021 Pairing:Established Peter Parker x Reader Prompt(s):none Warning(s):just watch out if you haven’t seen the movie because this has majorspoilers Word count: 1.7k Author’s note:Lol this fic is sooo chaotic and I love it! Literally watched this movie two hours ago and am still in such shock. Anyhow I binged Andrew’s Spiderman movies in preparation for my cinema outing and fell in love with him. This is just a way for me to get it out of my system. The convo is all movie accurate because believe it or not I was able to find a cam version somewhere on the internet. ENJOY!
“How do I know Peter?” You repeated, “Peter Parker?”
Hands shaking against the wooden chair you were holding; you watched the two teenagers before you. One was curly haired and skinny, with mistrust swirling in her dark eyes. Obviously, she was overwhelmed by yourself, but she didn’t dare show it. MJ was her name. And the boy beside her, with a bizarre ring adorning half his hand and an emotionally very expressive face showed just how your presence messed with his coherence. How every step you took had him glancing at his grandma as if he might grab her and run away to safety. That was Ned.
The question was left unanswered in the pregnant silence, and the air buzzed with tension. You looked from one figure to the other, eyebrows rising more and more as time passed and no one spoke. The girl’s nostrils flared as she beheld you from the other side of the table, acting as if the wood was a protective barrier between her and the unknown.
Your bubble snapped when she reached for a fork on the table. “All right! All right!”
You gave them your palms, missing only a white flag to symbolize truce. “Peter…” You looked at them. Looked at them good. “Peter Parker…” His name was emphasized slowly, stretched out by your mouth so there was no way in hell they could mistake him. “Is my boyfriend.”
They gaped.
The girl ignored the cutlery and grabbed a bread roll instead, chucking it at your head.
She missed but barely. “What the hell was that for?!”
“For lying!” Ned said in her name and grabbed one for himself.
“No! No, no, no, no!”
He halted.
“I swear I’m not lying!” Why would you be lying? There was no reason to hide the fact that Peter Parker lived and breathed for you. That just yesterday, he had flowers waiting in his hands as he took you out to dinner. That a week ago, he took you swinging with him across New York.
“And why should we believe you?” MJ asked defensively. Your words bothered her a lot more than she let on. “You’re the one that attacked us in the middle of the freaking street!”
“Attacked?!” Your face was blanched white by shock, “Attacked? I-I didn't…”
“No, you attacked us.” Said the girl, shoving an accusing finger in your general direction. “L-like a lunatic!”
“Lunatic?” You repeated, bewildered. Then sighed in frustration, remembering at last how you had chased them half a block upon hearing them speak of Peter. One sentence with Peter Parker and Spiderman in it had you swinging at them. Because one moment you were in your room, at home and safe and then the next…
It felt as if you had entered a whole new world. Fear was undeniable.
“We know you’re lying.”
“What?”
Ned nodded proudly, his golden ring shining under the faint light. “Yeah, and you know how? You know how we know?”
You dared not to ask.
“BecausePeter,” he said the name as if he knew him as well as he did himself which couldn’t be possible because your boyfriend doesn’t have many friends that you don’t know. He doesn’t have many friends to begin with. “Is herboyfriend.”
Your mouth fell open.
Peter…
Peter is…
“―cheating on me?!”
You grabbed a bread roll on pure instinct and threw it at MJ. She grabbed another one and would have thrown it right back had the boy not grabbed her by the shoulder, acting as a buffer. “Lets all just take a deep breath.”
Deep breath your ass. You just found out your boyfriend was cheating on you in your least favorite sweater and jeans.
You were absolutely, positively feral.
“Peter told us to wait,” he quickly rattled on, nodding toward an ancient looking square frame of a sort. Your eyes followed his, albeit with a lot more fear, but still they travelled to the box, assessing and calculating.
“There’s a giant lizard out on the lose,” MJ stated, “I’m not taking any chances Ned. Not anymore. Not while-”
Her sentence lay unanswered. She bit the inside of her cheek and ran a shaky hand over her face as if her friend didn’t just reveal her to be another girlfriend of your boyfriend’s. You on the other hand completely and utterly lost every ounce of sanity. Lizard?
You knew only one lizard in your lifetime.
“Peter told me to wait,” MJ continued on, just now beginning to pace around the table. “But…I’m gonna do it.”
Ned sighed, swaying his hands in the air for emphasis. “I-I just wish…I just wish we could see him.”
Sparks crackled beside you, making you jump three steps back in fear. “What was that?”
“I-I…I don’t know?” Ned said, his answer like a question on its own.
“Ned…” Began MJ, “Do that again.”
He nodded quickly and moved his hands across his face with more emotion, repeating what the words that had just left his mouth. Then, just as the words travelled through the air, sparks lighted up the room, forming a circle. It was as if live electricity bent to the will of nature to comprise a portal for him, to open a pocket in the world you never even thought about. It disappeared, the circle, and the hairs on your neck rose. There was no time for you to fight MJ, or to scream your fear at them.
If they could bring Peter back with a single sentence.
You could strangle him all on your own.
“Just wish we could see Peter,” said Ned at last, forming a circle with his hand. The portal shaped itself until its inner part was a different place completely. An alley of some sort, you managed to make out, empty save for a dark figure that stood in its middle.
Ned’s grandmother gasped behind you.
You willed yourself not to breathe.
“Is that him?” MJ asked, “Peter? Hey Peter?”
Come here, they told him, and you watched the spider-like eyed man point a finger at his chest. His eyes travelled over both Ned and MJ, and it appeared to you that he did not recognize them. That this was something a lot bigger. That the possibility of a mistake could be…
The no doubt Spiderman finally spotted you and his body went absolutely rigid. Then just as you thought he would leave did he sprint toward you with speed that shocked you all. He raced through the open portal and landed himself straight into your arms.
The familiar smell of his skintight cloth filled your nostrils, and the easily recognizable muscular body molded itself against you until you almost lost yourself in the feeling. His strength was enough to make you rise from the ground to fully meet his arms. He even swayed you from side to side in a tight embrace he knew you loved. But then you remembered.
You pushed him off by wiggling and swung your leg at him, hitting his midriff the moment your feet met the floor. Peter jumped back in pure shock. “Ouch Y/N! What the hell?”
MJ and Ned’s mouth fell wide open when the voice that escaped the Spiderman was apparently not what they were looking for. Still, the revelation that had been revealed to you rang in your head like bells. “What the hell?” You repeated, “I’ll show you hell you little cheating weasel―”
Peter took off his mask with a clean tug.
Ned and MJ sprung to action immediately.
“No, no, no!”
“Wait, wait!”
You stopped mid-assault, lightning hard anger cracking in your eyes.
“That’s not Peter,” MJ said quickly, her hands out to calm you from afar.
You scrunched your brows, threw a look at your very-well-could-be-ex-boyfriend to make sure he was there, and looked back as if she were crazy. “What do you mean that’s not Peter?”
“Well―” She cringed at the complexity of the situation. Peter was a silent figure next to you, rubbing his ab clad stomach.
“What MJ’s tryna say is,” Ned quickly cut in. “That's…not her boyfriend.”
“But you justsaid―”
“IknowwhatIsaid!” Her voice was small and panicky. She continued her pacing.
“Y/N…” Peter spoke slowly, as if one word spoken differently was enough to enrage you. He pointed a red finger at them. “Whatever they told you is not true. I am not cheating on you. I would never do that to you, and you know it.”
You didn’t say anything.
“Babe?” He prompted, bringing your attention to him. You took note of his messy hair and almost brought out a hand to run through it.
“Then why did she―”
“I don’t know,” he said, “But I have an idea. You look adorable, by the way.”
You glared at him.
“Strain theory, multidimensional reality, matter displacement…all real?” He asked MJ and Ned.
The pair spoke a slow, incredulous yeah.
“Knew it.” Peter turned back to face you, taking your shaky hands in his gloved ones after he deemed you no threat. “What’s going on?” You asked him, truly fearful.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, and ran a finger across your cheek. “I just know it’s all wrong.”
“Yeah, no shit babe,” you said sarcastically.
Peter laughed and looked over at the two shocked teens. “She really believed you?”
“Yeah, but I mean,” MJ said, “I don’t really blame her. It’s all messed up.”
You nodded in agreement, grabbing hold of Peter’s upper arms tentatively as Ned and MJ focused on closing the portal. “I was so worried about you.” Your fingers tightened around him ever so tightly. “When I couldn’t find you―”
Peter looked as if he had melted right on the spot. He hooked a strong arm around your shoulders and neck and pulled you to him until you were flush against him and his Spandex attire. “I know, I know.”
You inhaled his scent, “What are we going to do?”
His lips grazed the top of your head, “I don’t know. But we’re going to figure it out.”
And you believed him.
Note: If you enjoyed reading this fic do check out my other work by clicking on one of my masterlist links. If it’s not a bother leave a like, comment and/or reblog. It gives me motivation and lets me know that you liked what I wrote. <3
If you would perhaps want to read some of my work earlier, you can check out my AO3profile, I’ll always make sure to tell you guys when a fic is posted on there in advance!
Lastly, if you wish to be tagged under any of my future fics go to my tag list ! I no longer take requests through ask, dm, comments anymore. Once on my tag list post you’ll find a link to a Google Form that you have to fill out in order for your request to be valid! x
Warnings: Mentions of fire, mentions of anxiety, a tiny little bit of angst I suppose
Summary:When you, an intern for the Daily Bugle, are set out to find the person behind the mask of New York’s Spider-Man, your life turns upside down with secrets, supervillains, and a boy by the name of Peter Parker.
A/N: A spoiler but I promise Harry isn’t the villain this time lmao I do that in like every series but NOT this one for once
Your feet pattered against the pavement, while people and buildings around you became a blur. Your heart thundered in your chest, constricting and burning with every step as you ran towards the disaster after getting out of a taxi. The Brooklyn Bridge was filled with cars and a large fire was spreading after what seems to be some type of semi-truck accident.
Most people, they avoid dangerous situations. They stop and stare, watch whatever disaster is unfolding because it’s human nature. It’s unbelievable and people need to watch to believe it’s happening. But, most people don’t go into the danger zone if they’re not already there. Most people don’t have a death wish. You don’t have a death wish but you have a dream and that dream includes you running around New York and chasing the masked hero by the name of Spider-Man. And where is Spider-Man normally? Around these dangerous, life-threatening situations. So, you go into them, when you can.
A crowd is gathered as you approach and it’s a lot. The mixed voices and sirens, distant yelling, and noises all fade into one clustered sound. It’s all being amplified. Everything clouds together and now it’s not just the running that has your heart racing, but the creeping anxiety.
It’s not something that happens all too often, but it happens. Sometimes, this will just be too much. Sounds, people, movement. It doesn’t really matter and there’s no direct cause that you can even pinpoint. Sensory overload, for you, just happens and maybe today it’s because you’re racing towards another disaster. The idea of running towards something like that is already a bit uneasy, allowing the anxiety to have a perfect little crack to seep right through. But, you do not have time for that. So, you don’t slow down, you keep going.
You tell yourself that if you can focus, it’ll go away. So, you grab your camera from around your neck, gripping the hand hold tight. You reach the barricades where police are making sure people stay put. And that’s when you really see the bridge. It looks like something’s split it nearly in half and it’s only being held together by webs. There are cars still slowly falling into the water but people are running from the bridge, others are being held up by different webs. It seems Spider-Man has been there for a little while already, webbing people up and keeping them safe. It reminds you of the Staten Island ferry just five years prior.
You were just a Sophomore when it had happened but you remember seeing it all over the news. Something strange had torn through the ferry, splitting it in two. Spider-Man had tried to pull the ferry back together and keep it together with webbing but it didn’t work so well and Iron Man saved the day. No one was hurt, luckily, but it was something that stayed with you. Your brother was on the ferry and he could have died but he didn’t because Spider-Man and Iron Man showed up. Now you’re here, watching a bridge being held together by Spider-Man, trying to find out who he is to out him to the world. The universe is funny that way.
You hold your camera to your eye and that’s when you see him. The red and black-suited superhero swings around the bridge saving a little kid before he falls into the water. Your job isn’t to catch Spider-Man catching children and saving them from certain death but you don’t care. You take the pictures anyway because how cool is that? It’s Spider-Man saving a kid. So, you keep your camera on him the entire time, taking pictures and waiting for him to finish.
There’s just a fascination with watching him swing around at speeds that cannot be human. Well, obviously. But, how? That’s something that’s been eating at you since Spider-Man started showing up. What makes him a superhero? How does he stick to buildings? What are his webs exactly? How does he land perfectly fine despite the velocity of his swings? Humans have a closed circulatory system so he shouldn’t be able to just survive swinging like that. But, he does, just like a spider. So, something’s mutated but how? Why? You have a hundred questions and none of them have been answered and by the looks of it, you’ll never get them answered. Instead, you’ll just be taking pictures and hoping you get the shot you need to unmask him.
But, you don’t get lucky today, not that you ever think you’ll get lucky in this, because just as the kid is safe, Spider-Man takes off. It seems like everyone is safe and there are now plenty of first responders on scene so he leaves. And you quickly follow in the direction, quickly apologizing to anyone you bump into while you try to keep up with him, something you know to be completely useless but you’re not a quitter.
The entire time of trying to keep up with Spider-Man, you just think about how nice it would be to fly or have super speed or literally anything but this. Your feet burn with every step and you swear your heart is going to explode any second. It’s just exhausting having to, uselessly, keep up with someone who’s swinging above you and who’s doing it faster than you can run, especially in a busy and crowded city. But you follow him anyway until you lose sight of him.
Your head hangs as you sigh, disappointed but not surprised. Your hand grips your camera, looking at it before you look back to the sky. You roll your neck, bones cracking with every movement. Your shoulders roll and there’s no sign of that hero so what’s left to do? Nothing. This happens every time if you even manage to get to Spider-Man before he leaves. It’s a bit tiring but what else are you supposed to do?
“Y/n?” The sound of a familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts while a smile splits your face.
“Harry? What’re you doing here?” You ask while the tall boy approaches you.
He shrugs. “My dad a thing, had to show up. You know, you would think he would want me focusing on classes but here we are.” Harry rambles once he closes the distance between him and you. “And what are you doing here?” Harry slings an arm around your shoulder while the two of you start walking.
“Spider-Man.” You roll your eyes, the annoyance in your voice evident.
“I take it he’s still a man of mystery?” Harry gives you a cheeky smile before turning his attention in front of you.
“Yep.” You pop the ‘p’. “Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a car waiting, of course.” Harry states as if you should have known better which maybe you should have, Harry never uses public transport or really walks anywhere. “You’d have better luck if you’d just figure out who he was.”
You glare up at him, his green eyes catching the sun just right. “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that, Harry. Where would I be without your expert opinion?” You quip.
Harry shakes his head, the cheeky grin not budging. “If you know, why don’t you do some researching, then?”
“Because there’s what? Eight million people living in New York? Does it sound practical to try to research him?” Your voice is snarky as you look up to him.
“Does it sound practical to chase a superhero around the city?” Harry retorts, getting another glare from you. “Alright, but you know he’s here, you know he’s been in Queens so that narrows it down.”
You pause, keeping up with his long strides. He has a point. Spider-Man showed up in Queens, so he is probably from Queens which narrows down the list of suspects unless Spider-Man went to Queens as a cover-up. So, maybe Harry could be onto something.
“That’s still a lot of people.” You try to argue. “He’s done like one appearance at FEAST.”
Harry pauses, looking to you with a raised brow. So, you have done some research into the spider. “Yeah, because he’s probably local, y/n.” Harry chuckles. “Just, go with me for a second.” Harry sighs. “How old do you think he is? You’re chasing him so surely you have some vague idea at the very least.”
“Uh, probably mid to late twenties based on athleticism if that even really counts? He is a superhero. Captain America was like over a hundred years old.”
“But we’ll go with that because you said you’ve had friends who heard him talk. They all said he sounded your age which would mean you’re right because that was in high school. So, now going from that, he’d be our age now, right?”
“Right,” You nod. “And that means college aged which would also explain why he isn’t normally in Queens unless it’s during breaks. He’s at college.” You add on. “And normally around ESU.”
“See, you’re getting it. You already have your suspect list narrowed down to a few thousand instead of eight million.”
You give him a shy but thankful smile. “I still think it’ll be a lot of work to figure out which student is Spider-Man.”
“If anyone can figure out who Spider-Man is, it’s you.” Harry looks down at you, eyes soft and the cocky smile has turned into something sweet like honey. “Then you can just stalk the poor kid until you catch him either masking up or unmasking himself. JJ will be off your back and you can hang out with me more.” The sweet smile turns large and cocky once more making you roll your eyes.
“Mhm, that’s what I’ll do with my free time.”
“Speaking of, having a party Friday, you coming?”
“So long as Spider-Man doesn’t pull me away.”
“Yes! I will hunt him down myself if he pulls you away again.” Harry tugs you closer to him.
“Shut up.” You groan, bumping into him as you reach his waiting car.
The scent of coffee hits Peter like a bus as he walks into his favorite coffee shop right off-campus. It’s one of the few that’s open past nine and they make the best coffee, if anyone were to ask Peter anyway. Plus, their coffee can actually keep Peter awake unlike most places. But, his normal routine of getting his coffee and sitting down to try and study or finish up an essay is interrupted.
The shop is almost empty but then there’s you. You have an elbow on the table, chin on your hand as you stare at the screen in front of you. Your eyes are drooping and you look about as exhausted and drained as Peter does. There’s something about the difference in your appearance compared to earlier that seems to tug at Peter’s heartstrings. You were so bright earlier but now, you’re just dimmed.
Peter walks to up to the counter and orders his usual coffee, caramel macchiato with four extra shots of espresso. The baristas always give him a bit of a strange look, wondering how he can even taste the caramel but also if he ever sleeps. Then again, what college student does sleep like a normal human being?
The barista hands Peter his coffee and he says a quick thanks before turning around and questioning where he’s going to sit. He could sit by you. You look tired and he sure as hell is so maybe you could keep each other awake. But, maybe you want to be left alone and Peter doesn’t want to disturb you. The last thing he wants is to make anyone uncomfortable. But, you also seemed really nice. So, why not?
“H-hey.” Peter greets once he approaches your table, both hands holding his cup of coffee.
You look up to him but your brows are furrowed and your eyes scan his face as if questioning what he was doing beside you. You knew you heard someone say something but it sounded distant and clogged, similar to if someone is trying to have a conversation underwater. Not really coherent or loud, just distant and groggy. And you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings which definitely added to the distant sound of Peter’s voice at first.
“Sorry, what?” Your voice is louder than Peter expected and it’s a little scratchy.
“Uh..I, I just said hey.” Peter gives you a sheepish smile.
“Oh! Hey.” You give him a sweet smile with the louder than conversational level tone.
Peter’s heart lifts a little with your seemingly happy change but you still look completely exhausted so he feels the need to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Sorry,” Your cheeks heat up as you turn your hearing aid back on. “Sometimes, I shut it off, ya know? When I’m studying or getting work done. Being able to drown out some noise helps me focus.” You ramble and bite your lips as you finish. “So, yeah, I’m okay…internship, ya know?”
You take in Peter’s appearance, messy hair as usual but there’s a little faint bruise you hadn’t noticed earlier, right on his jawbone. There are bags under his eyes and his clothes aren’t completely straight. The collared shirt under the grey sweater is crooked and only part of one end of the bottom of the shirt sticks out under the sweater. His bag is slugged over just one shoulder and he’s holding onto his coffee like it’s his lifeline to keep him awake. Even his skin is a strange pale color, a little paler than you think is normal.
“Are you?” You ask.
Peter nods and he holds the sheepish smile. “Internship.”
It’s a bald-faced lie. While Peter still hates lying, after all of these years of lying to pretty everyone, he’s gotten quite good at it. And while he doesn’t really want to lie to you, he doesn’t have any other reason for him to out at a coffee shop this late when he has classes in the morning. Internship is a lot better than vigilante.
There’s a soft laugh you both share and a warmth spreads throughout Peter’s chest. “Can…I sit?” Peter asks, gesturing to the open chair in front of you.
“Sure,” You close your laptop and move a few things out of the way.
You always liked this coffee shop. It’s far enough away from your home that no one really comes to bug you but it’s in a well-lit and high trafficked area so you’re not too uneasy about being here late at night. Plus, Harry’s within walking distance so you always have him you can go to. This place also actually has pretty good coffee, not something that tastes overly processed like Starbucks or bottom tier coffee like Mcdonald’s but coffee that actually tastes good.
“What’s your internship?” You ask as Peter takes a seat. “I…I just mean if it keeps you up at a coffee shop at eleven at night, it must be tasking.” You ramble, not wanting to intrude on Peter’s business if he doesn’t want to share his work.
“Oh…uh, yeah.” Peter stutters, he hasn’t gotten this far in the lie in a few years.
Does he still say Tony Stark? It really hasn’t been brought up in ages, if that’s the excuse he should still use when people ask questions. But the longer Peter’s taking to figure this out, the more you’re just staring at him, waiting for a response and now he just feels dumb. Maybe he could just pretend he didn’t hear you. No, that would not work, he already started to answer. Okay, now he has to say something. Anything.Anything at all.
“UM,” Peter shakes his head while your brows knit together. “Tony Stark.” He blurts it out finally and he’s swearing it should not have been that difficult. He really could have just said Stark Industries. Why must he name drop and sound like a total nerd? It takes everything in Peter not to facepalm right there until he hears your voice turn high-pitched.
“Really?” Your eyes widen as you lean forward. “Wait. So you know….like, Iron Man?”
Someone you just met, knows Iron Man? That has got to be the wildest thing you’ve heard and there are millions of thoughts racing through your mind like F1 drivers. If he knows Iron Man, maybe he knows Hawkeye? How cool would that be? THE Hawkeye? Clint Barton? But if he knows Iron Man, maybe he knows Spider-Man? Maybe you can get lucky and Peter will hate Spider-Man and can help you unmask him. Okay, now you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself and that’s kind of a shitty thought anyway. So, you stick with Hawkeye.
Peter nods. “Yeah.” His voice is a bit flat but holds the smallest touch of questioning.
“So…do you know the other Avengers?” You ask with so much excitement it brings a genuine smile to Peter’s face. Your leg bounces beneath you as a smile splits your face. “I mean, do you know Hawkeye? Clint Barton?” Your eyes hold so much hope and Peter would normally just…lie and say no. If it were anyone else but you have much hope, he can’t just crush you.
“Well, uh,” Peter shrugs and he tries to find words between stutters but you don’t seem to mind. “I, uh, I mean…I…yeah, I’ve…met him. A few times.” Peter swallows thickly, taking another drink of his coffee.
“That’s so cool!” You nearly squeal. “Is he cool? What’s he like? I mean, if you can tell me….or if you want to. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m sure you get asked all the time about the Avengers so maybe you don’t want to talk about it which is totally fine. This is fine. It’s okay, never mind. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” You immediately become taken over with embarrassment.
Everyone loves the other Avengers and you get it. They are cool and everything, Thor is a God for crying out loud. That’s pretty awesome but…they’re not Clint to you. Someone he seems pretty ordinary, mostly, and is the best archer to exist. And he’s deaf. And he saved your life once. Clint’s always the biggest hero to you, not Iron Man or Captain America or Spider-Man.
“Sorry, uh, it’s just…ya know? He’s cool.” You make a very weak gesture towards your right ear where a hearing aid sits.
Peter remembers the first time he met Tony, the Stark Expo. Well, he didn’t really meet Tony but Tony saved him and told him “nice work, kid” so, it kind of counts. He was little then but he remembers never shutting up about it. May has a video of Peter relaying the whole story to Ben and how his face lit up the entire time. That’s what you look like. Same excitement and you haven’t even met Clint. It’s just talking about him.
“Yeah, yeah, no I get it.” Peter says in a rush. “He’s really cool.” Peter beams. “He drinks a lot of coffee though and he adopted a one-eyed dog. His name is Lucky.” There’s a chuckle that escapes his lips and you’re completely captivated, hanging out to every word like a tightrope.
“Mood.” You state, laughing softly and taking a sip of your own coffee. “That’s so cool he adopted a dog. Bet that dog has the best life.”
“Yeah, he does.” Peter lets out a chuckle and he figures this could be a good way to get out that conversation before he starts saying too much and it becomes suspicious. “So, uh, what’s your internship?” Peter asks.
“I intern at the Daily Bulge under J. Jonah Jameson.” You say softly. “Definitely nothing like yours.” You let out a quiet laugh.
Peter’s heart drops with the name of both the newspaper and the reporter. JJ has been out to unmask Spider-Man for over three years now. He’s always publishing stories about how Spider-Man is what’s wrong with New York. He’s a vigilante who does more harm than good. The takedown of bad guys and villains should be done by those equipped, like US forces and police, not some scrawny kid in a blue and red spandex suit. But, Peter, in this coffee shop with you, is Peter Parker. He’s not Spider-Man here, so he doesn’t say a word about it.
“What’s it like? I mean,” Peter starts. “What do you do? D-do you enjoy it?”
A sad smile comes over your face. “I mean, yeah, I-I guess?” Your words come out as a question while your whole demeanor switches like a light. “Usually, he’s a good reporter. I have a lot to learn from him and he has connections, ya know? But,” You chew on your bottom lip. “Sometimes, it kind of sucks and he’s a bit…” You pause, not really wanting to speak ill of your boss but you feel there’s a sense of confidence between you and Peter in this coffee shop. “Vengeful? Spiteful? Kind of insane?”
“Why, uh, why do you say that?” Peter asks and he feels bad. No one should feel like their work or internship sucks or that their boss is any of the things you just listed. It should be something someone enjoys, especially with most internships not even being paid internships. If you’re going to do something for free, you might as well enjoy it.
“I’m always running around everywhere, day and night. I never get enough sleep because of it. I fell behind in a few classes when I started interning and I have never fallen behind before. I lost most of my friends because I’m at his beck and call, ya know, people kind of get tired of you always bailing on them last minute.” You say quietly, looking down to your half-empty coffee cup.
But, Peter understands. Always running around night and day, losing sleep, falling behind, losing friends. He’s lucky that he still has Ned and MJ but he did lose them before and he’s lost a handful of others because he can’t always commit to showing up. That said, there have definitely been times where he’s seen both Ned and MJ disappointed because he can’t make a birthday event or a movie night. It’s not exactly easy sometimes but he has extenuating circumstances, like the greater good, that’s what he tells himself. So, what’s JJ got you doing that’s making you lose friends and sleep?
“I-if you don’t wanna talk about it…it’s okay…but what’s he always have you doing?” Peter asks, his hands wrapped loosely around his to-go cup.
You sigh and take a small sip of your coffee. “I have to follow Spider-Man around, try and catch him unmasking himself or doing something incriminating to make New York hate him.” A tinge of guilt cascades over you with your words, you’ve never really said that out loud before and it goes against everything you believe in.
Peter’s eyes widen and his jaw falls open a little. One thought comes to his mind in big, red, flashing letters like an exit sign: Well, shit.
This is not good. He can’t befriend someone who’s trying to ruin his entire life. That’s just cruel. Why would you want to do this to someone? Who wants to do this? JJ is just an asshole but you seem so nice. Peter doesn’t know you but he still, for some reason, expected more of you. And now what’s he to do? Get up and walk away? Just out of nowhere. That also seems a little rude and maybe he shouldn’t care but he also doesn’t really want to hurt your feelings because you don’t know Peter Parker is Spider-Man. It is a dilemma and it’s a dilemma Peter is taking too long to try and sort through because you’re just staring at him.
“You’re a fan of his, aren’t you?” You ask as if walking on thin ice.
“Uh….” Peter stutters. “Kind of, yeah. He’s pretty cool, why would you want to do that? Do you…hate him?”
You shrug. “I don’t.” The reply is short and simple. “Don’t hate him or want to do this.”
“Then why would you?” Peter asks, his voice growing a little pushy.
“My brother said something once and I don’t know. It was something about how like….if it brings you any form of excitement, maybe it’s worth pursuing and this does. And…” You pause, trying to avoid the guilt flooding your veins. “I feel like I have to make something of myself, I guess?” You scrunch your face. “Six older brothers, one is a teacher, one is a zookeeper, one is a lawyer, one is in medical school, one is in school to be a physical therapist. I don’t know, they’ve all made these huge strides to be these awesome people, feel like I have to do the same and JJ has connections. He swore he’d hook me up if I get this picture. Get the picture and I’m set for everything I wanna do.” There’s another pause and Peter just waits. “If I make it….I could help my family, too and I don’t know, it’d be nice.”
Peter can understand that. He’s an only child but he knows what it’s like to be surrounded by people who’ve made themselves into something so incredibly amazing. It’s hard not to compare yourself to them and that’s what you’re doing. It’s hard to deal with it and deal with the pressure. But you’re going to destroy his life if you do that and Peter can’t let that happen. So, he can’t just walk out and he can’t just let this go because what if you catch him? Maybe, if he can be friends with you, maybe he can convince you that this would go south? That this could destroy someone’s life. He knows firsthand it will.
“Um…” Peter’s brows are furrowed.
“I don’t know.” You cut him off with a sigh. “Everyone thinks I wouldn’t turn in the picture if I got it cause it goes against everything I really believe in, so maybe I won’t.”
“Uh, yeah.” Peter nods. “Is compromising your morals worth it?”
You pause because no. No, it’s not but you’re doing it anyway. The problem you have always had is that you just listen to everyone else. You were never the leader type. You wouldn’t just follow along either, you have a mind of your own, but you’ve always fit into this tight little box with a bow. And maybe this is something for you to show you aren’t just this little box, you’re more than that. Maybe you can prove everyone wrong. That’s not a good enough reason though, spite. Spite makes people angry and bitter and that’s not you.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” You let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t know.” You shake your head. “But, hey, uh,” You check your watch. “I do, um, like talking to you despite you being a fan of Spider-Man who is currently my nemesis,” You laugh a little bringing a smile to Peter’s face. “But I gotta head out, um, Harry’s having a party on Friday, you should come.”
“I-I don’t know.” Peter shakes his head, this whole conversation is a lot to take in and he’s unsure if he should really try this friendship even if it is in his best interest.
“It’ll be fun and we can talk some more about anything that’s not this.” You laugh and that’s enough for Peter to agree.
“Okay, yeah, uh I’ll come.”
“Cool.” You get up, grabbing your laptop and backpack.
“Do you want me to walk you back to campus?” Peter offers before you can take even one step. “It’s just, dark and stuff.”
“Oh, uh, I don’t live on campus.” You shake your head. “Queens isn’t that far so I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” Peter asks,
“Yeah, thank you though.” Your cheeks heat up. “I’ll see you around, Peter Parker.”
Pretense Chapter 2 Teaser - Full Chapter coming 06/02
Chapter summary: Chasing Spider-Man is anything but easy
Full chapter warnings: Swearing
Words:1,587
Peter nods and he holds the sheepish smile. “Internship.”
It’s a bold faced lie. While Peter still hates lying, after all of these years of lying to pretty everyone, he’s gotten quite good at it. And while he doesn’t really want to lie to you, he doesn’t have any other reason for him to out a coffee shop this late when he classes in the morning. Internship is a lot better than vigilante.
There’s a soft laugh you both share and a warmth spreads throughout Peter’s chest. “Can…I sit?” Peter asks, gesturing to the open chair in front of you.
“Sure,” You close your laptop and move a few things out of the way.
You always liked this coffee shop. It’s far enough away from your home that no one really comes to bug you but it’s a well-lit and high trafficked area so you’re not too uneasy about being here late at night. Plus, Harry’s within walking distance so you always have him you can go to. This place also actually has pretty good coffee, not something tastes overly processed like Starbucks or bottom tier coffee like McDonalds but coffee that actually tastes good.
“What’s your internship?” You ask as Peter takes a seat. “I…I just mean if it keeps you up at a coffee shop at eleven at night, it must be tasking.” You ramble, not wanting to intrude on Peter’s business if he doesn’t want to share his work.
“Oh…uh, yeah.” Peter stutters, he hasn’t gotten this far in the lie in a few years. Does he still say Tony Stark? It’s really has been brought up in ages, if that’s the excuse he should still use when people ask questions. But the longer Peter’s taking to figure this out, the more you’re just staring at him, waiting for a response and now he just feels dumb. Maybe he could just pretend he didn’t hear you. No, that would not work, he already started to answer. Okay, now he has to say something. Anything. Anything at all.
“UM,” Peter shakes his head while your brows knit together. “Tony Stark.” He blurts it out finally and he’s swearing it should not have been that difficult. He really could have just said Stark Industries. Why must he name drop and sound like a total nerd? It takes everything in Peter not to facepalm right there until he hears voice turn high-pitched.
“Really?” Your eyes widen as you lean forward. “Wait. So you know….like, Iron Man?”
Someone you just met, knows Iron Man? That has got to be the wildest thing you’ve heard and there are millions of thoughts racing through your mind like F1 drivers. If he knows Iron Man, maybe he knows Hawkeye? How cool would that be? THE Hawkeye? Clint Barton? But if he knows Iron Man, maybe he knows Spider-Man? Maybe you can get lucky and Peter will hate Spider-Man and can help you unmask him. Okay, now you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself and that’s kind of a shitty thought anyway. So, you stick with Hawkeye.
Peter nods. “Yeah.” He’s voice is a bit flat but holds the smallest touch of questioning.
“So…do you know the other Avengers?” You ask with so much excitement it brings a genuine smile to Peter’s face. Your leg bounces beneath you as a smile splits your face. “I mean, do you know Hawkeye? Clint Barton?” Your eyes hold so much hope and Peter would normally just…lie and say no. If it were anyone else but you have much hope, he can’t just crush you.
“Well, uh,” Peter shrugs and he tries to find words between stutters but you don’t seem to mind. “I, uh, I mean…I…yeah, I’ve…met him. A few times.” Peter swallows thickly, taking another drink of his coffee.
“That’s so cool!” You nearly squeal. “Is he cool? What’s he like? I mean, if you can tell me….or if you want to. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m sure you get asked all the time about the Avengers so maybe you don’t want to talk about it which is totally fine. This is fine. It’s okay, never mind. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” You immediately become taken over with embarrassment.
Everyone loves the other Avengers and you get it. They are cool and everything, Thor is a God for crying out loud. That’s pretty awesome but…they’re not Clint to you. Someone he seems pretty ordinary, mostly, and is the best archer to exist. And he’s deaf. And he saved your life once. Clint’s always the biggest hero to you, not Iron Man or Captain America or Spider-Man.
“Sorry, uh, it’s just…ya know? He’s cool.” You make a very weak gesture towards your right ear where a hearing aid sits.
Peter remembers the first time he met Tony, the Stark Expo. Well, he didn’t really meet Tony but Tony saved him and told him “nice work, kid” so, it kind of counts. He was little then but he remembers never shutting up about it. May has a video of Peter relaying the whole story to Ben and how his face lit up the entire time. That’s what you look like. Same excitement and you haven’t even met Clint. It’s just talking about him.
“Yeah, yeah, no I get it.” Peter says in a rush. “He’s really cool.” Peter beams. “He drinks a lot of coffee though and he adopted a one-eyed dog. His name is Lucky.” There’s a chuckle that escapes his lips and you’re completely captivated, hanging out to every word like a tightrope.
“Mood.” You state, laughing softly and taking a sip of your own coffee. “That’s so cool he adopted a dog. Bet that dog has the best life.”
“Yeah, he does.” Peter lets out a chuckle and he figures this could be a good way to get out that conversation before he starts saying too much and it becomes suspicious. “So, uh, what’s your internship?” Peter asks.
“I intern at the Daily Bulge under J. Jonah Jameson.” You say softly. “Definitely nothing like yours.” You let out a quiet laugh.
Peter’s heart drops with the name of both the newspaper and the reporter. JJ has been out to unmask Spider-Man for over three years now. He’s always publishing stories about how Spider-Man is what’s wrong with New York. He’s a vigilante who does more harm than good. The takedown of bad guys and villains should be done by those equipped, like US forces and police, not some scrawny kid in a blue and red spandex suit. But, Peter, in this coffee shop with you, is Peter Parker. He’s not Spider-Man here, so he doesn’t say a word about it.
“What’s it like? I mean,” Peter starts. “What do you do? D-do you enjoy it?”
A sad smile comes over your face. “I mean, yeah, I-I guess?” Your words come out as a question while your whole demeanor switches like a light. “Usually, he’s a good reporter. I have a lot to learn from him and he has connections, ya know? But,” You chew on your bottom lip. “Sometimes, it kind of sucks and he’s a bit…” You pause, not really wanting to speak ill of your boss but you feel there’s a sense of confidence between you and Peter in this coffee shop. “Vengeful? Spiteful? Kind of insane?”
“Why, uh, why do you say that?” Peter asks and he feels bad. No one should feel like their work or internship sucks or that their boss is any of the things you just listed. It should be something someone enjoys, especially with most internships not even being paid internships. If you’re going to do something for free, you might as well enjoy it.
“I’m always running around everywhere, day and night. I never get enough sleep because of it. I fell behind in a few classes when I started interning and I have never fallen behind before. I lost most of my friends because I’m at his beck and call, ya know, people kind of get tired of you always bailing on them last minute.” You say quietly, looking down to your half-empty coffee cup.
But, Peter understands. Always running around night and day, losing sleep, falling behind, losing friends. He’s lucky that he still has Ned and MJ but he did lose them before and he’s lost a handful of others because he can’t always commit to show up. That said, there have definitely been times where he’s seen both Ned and MJ disappointed because he can’t make a birthday event or a movie night. It’s not exactly easy sometimes but he has extenuating circumstances, like the greater good, that’s what he tells himself. So, what’s JJ got you doing that’s making you lose friends and sleep?
“I-if you don’t wanna talk about it…it’s okay…but what’s he always have you doing?” Peter asks, his hands wrapped loosely around his to-go cup.
You sigh and take a small sip of your coffee. “I have to follow Spider-Man around, try and catch him unmasking himself or doing something incriminating to make New York hate him.” A tinge of guilt cascades over you with your words, you’ve never really said that out loud before and it goes against everything you believe in.
Peter’s eyes widen and his jaw falls open a little. One thought comes to his mind is big, red, flashing letters like an exit sign: Well, shit.
Summary: This AU is based on an idea from an old prompt in which people have tally marks to represent how many times they have fallen in love. Peter has fallen in love a couple times, but never been loved back. Peter is college age, would say around 21-23, and so is reader and company.
Author’s Note: This has honestly been something that I’ve been wanting to write for a while, and finally found the time to sit down and write it. Though still testing the waters, so please let me know. Would most likely try to be a slow burn, like definitely be more than four parts.
Word Count: 2K
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“Ned, I told you, she isn’t in love with me,” Peter repeated for the eighth time in this same phone conversation, but that didn’t mean that it hurt any less.
“Are you sure? I mean it could just take a while for hers to show up soon?”
“Ned, I really don’t want to say this but she did have a red mark, but it wasn’t for me,” he finally caved and explained the one fact he has kept thus far, “I didn’t think she would pull something like this, that’s why she can’t love me…because she loves someone else,” he sighed almost feeling the tally mark was burning his skin.
“Oh, I’m sorry dude,” he said after a long pause.
“I know but it’s not something you should apologize for,” he sighed, trying not to remember the events that occurred that morning.
“You can always come with me and Betty to the movies tonight, we can invite a few more people so you don’t feel like third wheel,” wanting to switch topics to hopefully cheer his friend up.
Peter knew that his friend was really trying to help but he really couldn’t think of leaving his apartment. He really needed to process the whole situation rather than distract himself from it, because he knew when he was alone, he would feel this low again. He looked down at his wrist seeing nothing but black tallies on his wrist, and let out a long sigh.
“Pete, you still there?” pulling him out from his thoughts.
“Yea just thinking about the offer,” even though he already knew that he had the answer.
“How about you think about it and let me know. I don’t want you to feel pressured,” always the supportive friend. “I would cancel on Betty but…“
“Thanks Ned, don’t think Betty deserves that,” smiling knowing that Ned will always be his ride or die. “Think I’m a sit this one out,” his eyes still focused on his wrist.
“Offer will stands till seven, but if not, I’ll stop by tomorrow with food and can talk about it,” wanting Peter to know that he’ll be there through thick and thin.
“Yea tomorrow would be nice, I’ll text you if anything happens,” affirming that he wasn’t going out tonight, “have a great date Ned.”
“Thanks Pete. Hope to see you soon then,” he said.
Both said their goodbyes, leaving Peter to let out a long groan of frustration. The palms of his hands pressed against his eyes hoping to keep the tears in that he kept in the whole day. Another black tally mark etched on his skin, great another failed attempted at love.
It was at times like these that wished he never learned about the tally marks, but it’s something unavoidable. He remembers days in which his Aunt May would sit down and talk to him about the tally marks that would one day appear across his wrist and tried to do her best to explain it.
“Alright Peter, so one when you find someone you really love, you’ll one day see a black tally appear right here,” pointing out her own single red tally on her wrist.
“But yours is red,” child Peter pointing out the obvious.
“I know, but if the person you love, loves you back, then it will turn red. Just like mine, yours can start off black, only depending who falls for who first. I can tell you first hand that mine showed up a month before your Aunt May’s did,” puling Peter’s attention from his aunt to his see his uncle setting down his stuff. Ben walked over to the two ruffling Peter’s hair to distract him from giving May a quick kiss.
“Hey it’s not my fault that you fell in love sooner than I did,” she joked.
“Uh, yea it is, you didn’t make it easy for me,” he smiled, “So what is this tally mark talk about?”
“Just curious,” Peter responded, “besides our teacher was going to go over it soon and wanted a head start.”
Peter smiled his tears gaining a bittersweet taste to them but figured that he may as well let out any tears at this moment. He looked at his wrist, nothing but black tallies and he would be lying to himself if he said that it didn’t hurt him. He really didn’t get the idea of what was so difficult about loving him, but then again, it’s not like he can force someone to love him. But still he just felt like a below the belt when he saw his now ex-girlfriend, if she even considered herself that, sport a red tally that clearly wasn’t his. Peter let out a loud sigh, thinking it was just to just scour his social media and start to unfollow her but couldn’t force himself to delete old pictures of themselves.
Just a few moments later and Peter heard a large crash outside his door. Peter quickly got up and walked over to the door hearing already someone cussing from the other end.
———————–
You didn’t know whether to be mad at the carpet lining the floor or yourself for thinking it was a good idea to carry more than you actually could because you really took a dive just now. You were glad that the boxes you decided to carry were filled with things that wouldn’t break, but you couldn’t help the burn on your cheeks from embarrassment and hope that no one saw your fall.
You started to stack a few things to try to somewhat organize things, and decided now was a good time as any to open your door. You decided to take a few things with you hoping to prevent anyone from seeing your mishap. By the time you went back to your stuff, someone was already organizing your fallen mess.
“Hey, sorry about the mess in front of your door, just give me a couple minutes and it’ll be totally clear,” walking over to said mess.
“it’s no worry at all,” seeing the stranger get up and face you.
Your heart jumped to your chest seeing the face that although you have forgotten about over time, you could never truly forget. “Peter?” knowing full well that there was no doubt about it.
“uh do I know you?” his face really confused because he really couldn’t place your face to a name.
“It’s been a while, but remember me from middle school,” trying not to act like you weren’t even more embarrassed then just a moment before.
You could visually see his mind thinking back to middle school, and finally put the pieces together, “(Y/N)! Oh god, I’m sorry I didn’t remember, trust me have a few things on my mind,” and although you haven’t seen peter in years, you figured he still was the same bashful boy you hadn’t seen in years.
“no worries, I mean what are the odds, that your old middle school friend moves down the hall much less spill most of her stuff in front of your door,” trying not to make anything more uncomfortable.
“yea guess so,” already sensing things slowly ease, “So you took over the empty loft, I think I heard about someone filling that room,” quickly picking up a few boxes, “ how about I help you out.”
Judging by him carrying boxes you knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, “sure guess we can catch up, plus definitely need the extra set of hands,” you said.
You didn’t know what it was about Peter but he really had a way to become instant friends with just about anyone that he met. You really were glad that he still was the same as the Peter you left behind at the end of middle school. It was almost easy being with Peter that it almost made it seem like you guys hadn’t seen each other in years but can already tell that moving in here was a great choice. You found out that he was still friends with Ned and kept in touch with Michelle, which he was already mentioning that he couldn’t wait to tell the others. you really were glad that he already wanted to plan things out with you.
You would be lying to yourself if you couldn’t deny that although you could recognize Peter, he really had matured into someone very attractive, especially by your standards. The once round cheeks chiseled out into strong edges, small chucky arms and hands became defined and strong by the easiness that he carried large boxes. however, some traits didn’t change at all, his doe brown eyes still had the same glee and his smile still captured the room, at least it did in your opinion. But now with this stance and physique, he really could capture the room.
“So, you moving in all by yourself?” Peter asked bringing in heavier objects. You
“ Yea, just me though if its gets too pricey may ask one of my friends to move in with me,” you replied already seeing that more than half of your stuff was already moved in thanks to Peter’s help, “pretty sure she will like the space as well.”
You looked over at Peter seeing that he was staring at his phone, his default cheery attitude replaced by a saddened look.
“Peter, you alright buddy?”.
“Uh yea, just some,” not knowing the right words to say, or better yet not know the right words that didn’t make him want to cry again.
“Girl trouble,” you finished, doubting someone like him couldn’t be with anyone or have someone he’s interest in.
“Um, something like that,” figured that he didn’t know how to phrase it.
“You don’t have to talk about it, I mean we technically just met,” not wanting to push his limits, because you figured that he would tell you just to be nice.
“It’s not that, I just don’t want one of our few first conversations to be about how my girlfriend got a red tally,” the words sounding so sour, “my bad I think I don’t think she was my girlfriend to begin with.”
“Red tally, then isn’t that a good thing?” not really understanding the problem.
“Yeah her and whoever she’s interested in, but definitely not for me,” lifting the side of his wrist and showing his black tallies., “just figured she’d be the first you know,” he said melancholy as he shrugged his shoulders.
“Hey her loss and their loss too, because I can already tell you that you have already been one of my better random male encounters in a while,” trying to cheer him up, though you figured you were failing at it.
Peter let out a small chuckle, “very funny but think I’m going to head out. Ned’s meeting me tomorrow for food, you’re more than welcomed to come,” he said trying to switch to lighter topics, “I’ll knock, see if you’re free ok”
“yea, sounds like a plan and really thanks for the help couldn’t do it without you.”
Peter said a small goodbye and walked out leaving you to finally press your hand against your chest. Your heart was racing, you knew that of course spending time with someone attractive like Peter was going to make you react but it was more. You knew that although you were glad to have met up with peter, but you weren’t sure if it was such a good idea in the long run. You finally decided to look down on your wrist, your eyes locking on your first tally mark. Your fingers traced over the black tally, knowing full well that the person who this tally represents is none other than your new neighbor, Peter Parker.
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End Author’s Note: So that was part 1, please let me know how it is. Still in debate if i should include peter being Spiderman, that is the other main opinion I would want, since I am really on the fence. Once again this is planned out to be a somewhat slowburn.
Pairing: Soft!dark Peter Parker (mid twenties) x Reader
Summary: One shot. Peter Parker-Stark was more than just a rebound guy.
Warning: Swearing, Dubcon if u squint, Alcohol consumption, Sexual themes. If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
“He’s looking at you,” your friend murmured under her breath as she looked over your shoulder. “Again.”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter Parker, the adopted son of theTony Stark, had made his intentions clear to you and just about everyone else. And now, he was the sole heir of the whole Stark enterprise. It helped a lot that he was a genius himself, and that he was innovative and had a businessman mind. If it wasn’t a public knowledge, no one would wonder if he was really a Stark himself. He was the carbon copy of his adoptive father, except that he wasn’t a playboy.
pairing/AU: university AU – student!tom holland x female student!reader
summary: there’s this girl in tom’s class that he can’t seem to get out of his head. she’s pretty, funny and kind, and every time she looks at him, he gets weak in his knees. but he can’t seem to find the courage to ask her out. not until a friday night uni party turns into the best night of his life
warnings:lovesick tom (like super lovesick), fluff, mentions and drinking ofalcohol, swearing
word count:6.1k
a/n: this story is heavily inspired by the two songs powders by alt-j and don’t delete the kisses by wolf alice so i’d recommend giving them a listen if you haven’t heard them before. both songs are super soft and i wanted to capture that in my fic. this is also my first attempt at writing from tom’s perspective, so we’ll see how that’s gonna go. english is not my first language so if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes, no you didn’t (also i’m not a writer)
Tom’s backpack felt heavy on his back as he stepped inside Professor Larsen’s auditorium. He really didn’t want to be here at 8am on a Monday morning for a three-hour lecture, and he especially didn’t want to be here this Monday morning. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong today, and it was only 8am. He’d snoozed his alarm a few times too many this morning – leaving him short on time to get ready. He hadn’t had the chance to eat any breakfast either, since his roommate and best friend Harrison hadn’t done the food shop he’d promised to do during the weekend, leaving their shared kitchen snubbed of anything resembling breakfast food. They didn’t even have bread! To make matters worse, when Tom stepped foot outside his flat and into the rainy London air, his bus had driven passed, splashing and soaking him in puddle water, and making him late for class.
So here he was in Professor Larsen’s auditorium. Fifteen minutes late, stomach screaming out for food, and his clothes soaked through to the bone. He quietly made his way down the stairs, careful not to draw any attention to himself and interrupting the class. Half-way down the stairs he found the blond head of hair belonging to his best friend. He sat down with a huff at the end seat, giving Harrison an annoyed look.
“Whydid you leave without me? And why didn’t you do the food shop this weekend? It’s yourturn!”, Tom harshly whispered to his friend.
“Wow, someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed today…”, Harrison’s whisper trailed off when he saw Tom’s soaked clothes. “Wait, what happened to you?”
“Whathappened to me!? A bus splashed puddle water all over me is what happened to me!”, Tom scream whispered back. Just as Harrison was about to answer Tom, a hush and a “Can you guys be quiet?” came from the row behind them.
Tom felt anger bubbling inside of him. It really wasn’t like him, what he was about to do, but this day was testing his patience. He quickly turned around, ready to curse this person out, but when he saw the girl sitting right behind him, all his anger simmered down.
He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Looking at this girl he felt like all air had left his lungs, like he’d run a marathon and now needed to catch his breath. When she locked eyes with him, one eyebrow raised waiting for an answer, Tom felt his cheeks warm up. “Yeah… ehm…sorry”, he softly whispered before he slowly turned around in his seat, ears burning. When did he get this shy?
The first hour of the lecture Tom had a hard time focusing on anything Professor Larsen said. His thoughts wandering to the girl behind him. Who was this girl? And why hadn’t he seen her before? He pondered.He was well over a month into the fall semester already, and he’d been an uncharacteristically good student these first four weeks, showing up for all his classes. He should have seen her in this class!
“Okay you guys! It’s 09.15 so I think it’s time to take a break. Be back here in 15 minutes!”, Professor Larsen’s voice brought Tom back to reality. He had been lost in his thoughts. Beside him Harrison stood to his feet. “I’m gonna go get a coffee in the canteen”, he said. “I’ll come with”, Tom mumbled as he quickly shut his laptop, where his blank word document had stared back at him for the past hour.
When Tom got up from his seat, he saw that you’d done the same. You had your back turned, chatting with another girl on the row behind you while you waited for your friend beside you to gather her things. When he passed you, while climbing the auditorium stairs, he quickly nodded his head in your direction asking Harrison: “Do you know who that girl is?”
Harrison turned his head following Tom’s eyes, “Who? Y/n?”
“Y/n?”, Tom questioned.
“Yeah, y/n! She was in Professor Stanley’s class last semester, and in Professor Nguyen’s class our first semester. She’s always hanging out with Amira and Sophie”
“Sophie? As in…”,
“Max’s girlfriend”, Harrison finished Tom’s sentence.
This new information puzzled Tom. How has he never seen this girl before? You had a lot of mutual friends. He’d done a group project with Amira in Professor Nguyen’s class, and he hangs out with Max all the time.
15 minutes later, back in the auditorium, Tom quickly gave up on listening to Professor Larsen. He couldn’t get you out of his head, constantly fighting the urge to turn around in his seat to steal a glance at you. When the class was over, he’d decided that he’s was going to talk to you. But when he turned around after gathering his things, you had looked at him while giving him a warm smile making his mind go blank. He stood paralyzed watching you quickly put your stuff away in your tote bag as he searched the depth of his mind for something to say to you. But before he could find something to say, Harrison nudged his arm, urging Tom get a move on.
The rest of the week you plagued Tom’s mind. He’d memorized how you’d looked that day, and the smile you’d sent him had replayed in his mind a million times. How awkwardly he had stood watching you, struggling to find something to say, had also replayed in his mind a million times, making him cringe at himself wishing the ground could have swallowed him up where he stood. He really wanted to get to know you. He really wanted to ask you out. There was just something about you that drew him in. Something he’s never felt before. You made him nervous – something he never got around girls. Tom had always been well aware of how a lot of girls wanted him. And ever since he started university two years ago, he’d had no problem finding a girl for a one-night stand after a drunken night. But this, you. The thought of talking to you, made him feel like an insecure twelve-year-old boy again.
When Monday rolled around again Tom strutted confidently into the auditorium for Professor Larsen’s 8am class. He had a plan. He was going to talk to you today. When he saw you seated in the same spot where you’d sat last Monday, next to Sophie, he quickly snagged the seat behind you. When the first break rolled around it was go time! The plan was to be set in motion. He was going to say hi to Sophie, hoping she would introduce him to you, and then ask if they wanted to join him in buying a cup of coffee in the canteen. Sophie was his way in. It was a solid plan! What could go wrong?
He spoke too soon… he chickened out is what could go wrong! The kind smile you sent him as you stood from your seat turned his brain to mush and he couldn’t do anything other than send you a lovestruck smile back. He was sure that if someone asked him what his name was in that moment, he wouldn’t be able to tell them. So… his plan had failed – but next Monday, that’s when he’ll talk to you!
But…
Hedidn’t. He chickened out, again! After chickening out the fifth week in a row – Tom thought to himself that this was getting ridiculous. What was going on with him? He had never been this shy when it came to a girl. Harrison had caught on three weeks in when Tom had asked a little too many of what Tom had thought was subtle questions about you.
“Why don’t you just get her number from the class group chat and send her a text if you’re such a coward?”, he’d teasingly posed. “Ask her if she wants to study together or something? God knows you need it if you’re gonna pass Professor Larsen’s class. You’re too busy staring at her like a creep to hear a single thing of what Larsen’s talking about”
“I don’t stare at her!”, Tom said defensibly, “…and I’m not a creep!”
“No, you’re right! You’re not a creep, you’re a weirdo”, a teasing smile danced over Harrison’s lips.
“Fuck you!”, Tom shoved Harrison’s shoulder as he mumbled “and stop quoting Radiohead you pretentious fuck”. But maybe Harrison had a point? He could just text you, right? But what would he say?
“hi, this is tom. i sit behind you in professor larsen’s class. i got your number from the class group chat and i was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime? xxx”
He reread the message he’d typed out in the notes app. Did he come off to strong? Maybe it’s the kisses at the end? He deleted them. Then he typed and retyped the massage a hundred times, but he knew in the end, he would never send it. Instead, he continued showing up to Professor Larsen’s class to sit behind the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, hoping that this was the Monday he’d grow some balls and finally talk to you.
The strong scent of the perfumery hit him like a brick wall, making him feel a little light-headed as he stepped inside the store. It was late November, but the perfumery had already put up their Christmas decorations and signs advertising their holiday sales. Tom adjusted his beanie and unbuttoned his winter jacket before he fished out his phone from his pocket. He searched through his messages until he found the one from his mother telling him what to buy for his little brother Paddy’s birthday. He wanted a cologne apparently. Why his fourteen-year-old brother wished for cologne for his birthday he did not understand, but Tom trusted his mother’s intuition.
“Hi welcome, do you want some help?”, a sweet voice asked. He was about to tell the voice that he’d be fine without any help, but when he looked up from his phone, he was met with your kind eyes.
“Oh… ehm… yes! I’m looking for this co-co-cologne?”, he stuttered out as he held up his phone showing a picture his mother had sent him of the cologne his brother wanted. He could feel a flush of warmth travel to his cheeks as you leaned in a little to get a better look at his phone.
“Oh, yes of course! We have that cologne over here”, you took off – walking deeper into the store. Tom followed you, taking big steps to keep up with your fast pace.
“Here it is!”, you smiled as you gestured to the cologne on the shelf. “We have it in two sizes: one that’s 50ml and the other that’s 100ml”, you pointed to the different sizes as you talked.
“Oh… ehm… I think I’ll buy the 100ml one?”, Tom questioned. His mum hadn’t said anything about if he should buy the 50ml or the 100ml one. But… the bigger the better, right? Tom thought.
“Excellent choice– ”, you chirped as you took the cologne of the shelf, “this fragrance should elevate your handsomeness”, you looked up from the packaging giving Tom your signature kind smile. That smile Tom had come to love over these past weeks.
“Then I’ll take a pallet”, Tom joked earning him a giggle from you. He could feel his chest fill with warmth at the sound. He made you laugh like that!
“Anything else you were looking for?”, you asked while looking around the store.
“Ehm no, nothing else”, he shook his head.
“Okay, then”, you said as you guided him to the register.
While you signed into the register you asked, “Would you like this gift wrapped?”
Tom fished out his wallet from his jacket. “No, no thank you”. Why did he say that?It’s a gift!
Tom watched your hand as you worked the register. “Okay, that’ll be £49.95”
£49.95!! This gift was going to be a lot more expensive than he’d anticipated. Does his mother think he’s made of money? He’s a broke uni student – he can’t spend this much money on something like this. But he couldn’t back out now with you waiting for him. With your eyes on him, he hesitated a little before he reluctantly swiped his card.
“Can I ask you something?”, you said as you handed him his bag and receipt. He could feel a jolt of electricity travel through his body as you accidently bumped into his hand.
A little startled he cleared his throat before he answered, “Yeah, sure”
“You’re Tom, right? Harrison’s roommate? You sit behind me in Professor Larsen’s class?”, your finger unsurely pointing at him as you asked your question. Your nose scrunched up like you were afraid you were mistaking him for someone else.
“Yeah, that’s me”, he confirmed with a nod, “and you’re y/n right? You’re friends with Amira and Sophie?”.
“Yeah, that’s me”, you parroted with a nod. A smile spread across his lips. He was actually talking to you! And you knew his name!
“What do you think of Professor Larson? Have you noticed how he always takes those weird breaths at the end of his sentences? You know like…”, you tried to mimic Professor Larsen’s annoying breaths, making Tom chuckle.
“I have noticed that! I actually find it hard to pay attention in his class”, Tom chuckled. But not because of Professor Larson’s weird breaths, he thought. “Yeah, me too! I get so caught up in his weird breathing- I’m always thinking he’s choking or something”, you laughed. You both talked for a little bit about the class and the last lecture until you asked him if he was going to Max’s party this Friday.
“Yeah! I’m gonna be there”, he nodded his head while he swung the bag with the cologne back and forth. “Me too!”, his heart skipped a beat at the smile you sent him. Then the bell by the door rang, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Your eyes left his for a moment as you greeted the old women that had arrived.
When you looked back at him he asked, “I’ll see you there then?”.
“Yes!”, your smile widened.
Tom was two beers deep when he saw you walking into Max’s flat with Amira and Sophie in tow. Harrison’s voice vanished into the background as a big smile blossomed on Tom’s face. He watched you from across the room, as you greeted some of your classmates. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He thought you looked so beautiful in your emerald dress. Then you turned your head, locking eyes with him in between the crowd of partygoers. It was like the entire world reduced to just the two of you. Just the two of you in this room, while the rest of the world faded away.
“Tom?”
The nudge he felt in his side, as Harrison called his name, brought him back to reality.
“Hm?”, he tore his eyes away from you, joining the conversation with his friends again.
“What do you think of that?”, Harrison asked, “Think of what?”, Tom questioned as his eyes trailed back to you, hoping to lock eyes with you again. He felt a wave of disappointment wash over him when he saw you’d turned your back, having a lively conversation with your friends.
Harrison followed Tom’s gaze and rolled his eyes, “Mate, are you seriously stillpining over y/n? It’s been like almost three months!”. Just as Tom was about to answer his best friend, he saw you excusing yourself from your friend group, making your way through the sweaty bodies, and into the kitchen.
“I’m gonna get another beer”, Tom didn’t answer his friend. “You still have half of your beer left?”, Harrison pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Giving Harrison a shrug, Tom chugged what was left of his beer, before shoving the empty bottle into the hands of a baffled Harrison, and slipping away towards the kitchen.
Your head cocked up from the concoction you were making, as you heard the creaking of the floorboard under Tom’s feet as he entered the kitchen.
“Fancy seeing you here”, Tom joked as he made his way over to where you stood by the kitchen island.
“Yeah, because I didn’t tell you I’d be here at all”, you quipped back flashing him a cheeky smile. His heart skip a beat again, like it always did when you smiled at him. It couldn’t be good for his health, but he’d take his chances at a heart attack any day over not seeing you smile again.
“Soo… whatcha making?”, he leaned in a little closer trying to get a better look at what you were pouring into your cup. You scrunched up your nose, oh my god Tom thought it was so cute, before you held up the bottle of tequila you had found in midst of the sea of bottles on the kitchen island.
“Tequila?”, you chuckled, “not sure what to mix it with though”, you said as you rummaged through the makeshift bar.
“Hmm…”, Tom hummed as he leaned over the island “what about… pineapple juice?”, he proposed picking up the carton of juice and presenting it like a waiter in a restaurant would present a fancy and expensive bottle of wine. The gesture earned him a small giggle – a giggle that made his already wide grin even wider.
“Pineapple juice? That’s what the chef’s recommending this evening?”, you asked as your fingers found your chin, stroking it like you were deep in thought, mulling this decision over in your head.
“Oh yes!”, he held the carton up to get a better look at the carton of juice. “This fine carton of Sainsbury’s 100% pure squeezed pineapple juice, not from concentrate, is the best of the best we have to offer this evening Miss y/n! You can’t make a better choice for your drink than this!”, he said confidently.
You nodded your head with a serious look on your face, fingers still stroking your chin. You were playing along to his silly bit. “Okay, you’ve sold me on the pineapple juice”, you decided, pushing your cup towards Tom.
“Excellent choice Miss! Say when”, he said as he started pouring your drink. “When”. You grabbed your cup, swirling the liquid around, before your brought it to your lips.
“So?”, he asked after you took your first sip.
“Honestly? Not bad at all”, you giggled.
“Oh thank god! Because suggesting pineapple juice was purely a shot in the dark”, Tom said as his right hand traveled to his forehead pretending to wipe the sweat of it, “no pun intended”. He earned himself another one of your cute giggles which prompted a proud feeling of accomplishment to settle in his stomach. He wanted to make you laugh like that for the rest of the night.
“What are you having then?”, you asked peeking over your cup at him.
“Would you find me boring if I told you I wanted to grab another beer?”, Tom asked.
“No, not at all!”, you answered back. “I just thought you weren’t like other girls”, you said with faked disappointment. “I thought maybe you were gonna make the weirdest drink I’d ever seen that would look super distrusting, but taste delicious or something”, you cheekily said.
“So sorry to disappoint”, Tom laughed as he grabbed a beer from the six pack on the kitchen counter. “I guess I’m just like other girls”, he shrugged as he took a sip of his beer. It was a little warm, but right now he couldn’t care less.
“Bummer…”, you sighed, “here I though you were more than just a pretty face”. Just as the words left your mouth you took a sip of your drink. As if the words you’d just uttered weren’t supposed to be said out loud and instead could be taken back and swallowed down, mixed with tequila and pineapple juice.
“A pretty face huh? Are you flirting with me y/n?”, Tom teasingly bumped his shoulder against yours.
“Oh, that’s classified information I’m afraid. So, I can neither confirm nor deny those claims”, you giggled.
“Ah man… classified information huh?”, Tom sighed, “that’s a bummer because if you were flirting with me y/n, then I would tell you how beautiful I think you look right now in your dress, and how I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you ever since you walked in here”. Your eyes widened at Tom’s words while a shy smile appeared on your face. “That is, if you were flirting with me of course”, Tom added. Your smile grew wider as you answered him back, “Of course”.
The rest of the party you two never left the kitchen – staying there talking the whole time. Tom didn’t see his friends for the rest of the night, and neither did you. You were so easy to talk to. You laughed at all his stupid jokes, and you played along to his silly bits. When he was talking to you it was like time stood still – it was just the two of you in this world. The two of you illuminated by the dim yellow kitchen light. A light that maybe would be harsh and unflattering under normal circumstances, but right now cast a soft glow over your face – making you look so pretty that Tom was thinking that his knees surely would buck under from his weight any minute now.
“Oh my god! Is that really the time?”, you suddenly said cutting yourself off mid-sentence. You were in the middle of telling him about the plot to your favourite film just as your eyes had flickered to the oven behind him showing the time. Your sudden new interest in the oven behind him made Tom turn his head too. How could it be past 2am already?It felt like you’ve only been talking for an hour at most!
“Maybe I should start to head home?”, you said. “I could walk you home if you want?”, Tom posed – not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.
You nodded your head as a shy smile ghosted over your lips, “I would really like that”.
With your hand in his you dragged Tom towards the hall and the door. Trainers, boots, and high heels haphazardly covered the floor of the hall – flooding it with shoes. You giggled as you carefully tried to step over the shoes, making your way towards the door while looking for your own shoes. Tom followed your steps, treading carefully in the gaps you’d made. Suddenly, you tripped over a pair of docs. Tom reacted quickly, clutching your hand tighter as he pulled you towards his body, catching your fall. Being so close to you, he caught a whiff of your perfume and floral notes filled the air with sweetness.
“Thanks”, you looked up at him as you let out a shy giggle. Your hand came to rest on his chest – steadying yourself. Inside Tom beamed at the touch, while he hoped you couldn’t feel how quick his heart was beating through his chest from being this close to you.
“No problem, darling”, his tongue grazed the front of his teeth as he teasingly added, “I just didn’t think you would fall for me this quickly”. You rolled your eyes at his words as you let out another one of your cute giggles.
“That’s a smooth one–“, you said with a hint of teasing sarcasm in your voice, “almost sounds like you rehearsed it”, you raised a questioning eyebrow as you patted his chest.
“Maybe I did?”, Tom nonchalantly shrugged, “Or maybe I’m serving you the best of the best pick-up lines this drunk nogging can produce at 2am?”, he pointed a finger at his head while a cheeky grin was spread on his face.
“The best of the best, huh?”, you played along. Tom nodded his head, the grin never leaving his face, “It doesn’t get any better than this, darling!”. You giggled again as you shook your head at his attempt at flirting with you. Then you stepped away from him, your eyes searching for your shoes. You both put your shoes and coats on in silence, only the voices from the other partygoers speaking over the music filled the space between you.
“Ready?”, Tom asked after he’d watched you twist your scarf twice around your head. You looked at him with soft eyes as you nodded your head, “Yes”. Then you two were swiftly out the door, walking together into the December night. A French exit. An Irish goodbye.
When Tom woke up the morning after a grin was permanently glued to his lips. Like a supercut, images of the night before, of you, flooded his mind. How his heart had skipped a beat the first time he laid his eyes on you. How pretty he thought you’d looked in your emerald dress. How your eyes would shine as you giggled at his stupid jokes. And how your eyes would glimmer when you talked about the things you loved. Oh, how he wanted to be something you loved.
When he walked home to his and Harrison’s flat, after walking you home, he’d felt like he was walking on pink clouds. You had been everything he wished you’d be and more. Was it too soon to think that he loved you? Of course it is! What’s going on with him? Who are you turning him into? He didn’t even know you – but he felt like he did. He felt like you’d known each other for years, you were so easy to talk to. Maybe he did love you. What he did know for sure though, was that he was falling for you fast. He was falling for you embarrassinglyfast!
“What happened to you yesterday man? I didn’t see you at all at the party”, Harrison’s voice brought Tom out of his daydream and back to reality. Standing from their sofa, where he’d spent the majority of his Saturday morning, he followed Harrison into their kitchen, pondering over what to tell his best friend.
Harrison was in the middle of making himself a cup of tea as Tom blurted out: “Ehm… I kind of ended up talking to y/n the whole night”, a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “and then I walked her home”, Tom had a hard time fighting the smile tugging on his lips.
Stopping mid tea making, Harrison turned around with a cheeky grin on his face. “Walked her home you say? Spill!”, he said – one eyebrow raised.
“Mate, it wasn’t like that… I didn’t hook up with her. We talked, we flirted, and then I walked her home and came back here”
Harrison was confused now. His eyebrows were knotted together, and his thoughts spinning around in his head. “Wait? You didn’thook up with her? I though you liked her? You literally haven’t shut up about her for months!”
“Ido really like her! And that’s why I didn’t hook up with her– I didn’t want it to be just a one night stand… I want there to be more– and especially after talking to her last night”, and then Tom launched into one of his many speeches Harrison’s had already heard about you.
“Oh god… please make it stop!”, Harrison groaned. “You’re so whipped for this girl! You’re like a teenage girl, you know that mate? Do you write about how she rocks your world in your diary too now?”, he teases.
“Fuck off, you div!”, Tom flips him off, “I thought you’d be happy for me man!”
Tom’s reaction and grumpy face earned him a full belly laugh from Harrison. After calming down a little, Harrison says, “Of course I’m happy for you mate! But mostly I’m happy for myself, because I really can’t listen to any more of your speeches about how much you like her, or I’ll jump off the roof!”
He hated to admit that Harrison was right – he did sound like a teenage girl. You had taken over his mind, turned his life upside down, made him lose his self-control. He wanted to tell the world about you. He wanted to tell everyone that’ll listen how breathtakingly amazing you really are.
He couldn’t wait to see you again in class come Monday.
Tom felt light as a feather as he stepped inside Professor Larsen’s auditorium 15 minutes early. He’d woken up to a clear blue sky with the promise of a rare sunny day in December. His body was buzzing with energy – never having been this excited for Professor Larsen’s three-hour lecture. Slowly making his way down the auditorium stairs he was searching for only one head of hair – yours. But to his disappointment he couldn’t find you. As he sat down in his regular seat behind where you used to sit, he tried to tell himself that you would be here. He was just early. Fishing out his phone from his winter jacket he started mindlessly scrolling – trying to take his mind of his nerves and the butterflies fluttering in his tummy.
“This seat taken?”, a voice said pulling him from his phone. He knew it was you, even before he teared his eyes from his phone, and meeting your kind gaze.
“No, not at all!”, Tom beamed, removing his jacket from the seat beside him.
“Thanks”, you mumbled as you sat down. He watched you in silence as you took of your winter coat and fished your laptop out of your tote bag. When you were settled you turned towards him. God, you looked so pretty.
“Hi”, you smiled.
“Hi”, Tom parroted.
“How are you?”, you asked him as you leaned back in your seat.
“Great, now that you’re here”, Tom answered. Playfully you rolled your eyes at his response.
“What?”, he teased.
“You’re such a flirt– do you know that?”, you giggled.
“Only to pretty ladies who helps me buy cologne and sits beside me in class”, Tom said as he placed his hand on the back of your auditorium chair. You rolled your eyes again while Tom tried to keep his cool as he watched you shift a little closer to him in your chair.
“So… how was your weekend?”, you asked – a hint of a mischievous glint in your eye.
“Oh, you know… I went to this party on Friday where I met this beautiful girl. She was wearing this emerald coloured dress and I couldn’t take my eyes off her the entire night. What about you? How was your weekend?”, he winked. Just as you opened your mouth to give him an answer, Professor Larson’s voice boomed throughout the auditorium: “Good Monday morning– let’s get started on our second to last lecture”.
As usual Tom had a hard time paying attention during Professor Larson’s lecturers – and especially today with how close you were sitting to him. He did try to pay attention – he really did. But every time he tried; his eyes would have a mind of their own wandering to you. He studied you from his seat. How you’d scrunch up your nose as you tried to keep up with what Professor Larson’s was saying, while writing out your notes in your spiral notebook. How you’d nod along every now and then to something your he said. And how you would press the end of your pen to your lips as you were deep in thought. Oh, howhe wished he was that pen–… okay, maybe Harrison was right. He waswhipped.
“Okay, that’s it for today everyone! I’ll see you all back here next Monday for our last class before the exam”, Professor Larson’s voice brought Tom back to reality.
“Do you want to go get a coffee?”, your soft voice asked him as you both packed away your stuff.
“I would love to go get a coffee!”, Tom beamed, standing from his seat throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
It was crazy how time flew when Tom was together with you. You had both agreed that the coffee they served in your uni’s canteen was, although cheap, painfully bad. And instead opted for a cute café a few minutes walk from campus. Tom had never been there before, but you insisted on it having the best coffee you’ve ever had, and how you thought it was the best place to study because of how quiet it was. And he had to admit: it was the best coffee he’s ever had, and if he ever needed a quiet place to study – he would probably want to go here.
One coffee turned to two coffees, and then two coffees turned to cups of tea while the short and sunny December day turned to evening. Sitting at a table by the window your conversation had died down a little, and a comfortable silence had wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket, as you watched stressed Londoner’s hurrying past the café window, carrying bags of Christmas shopping.
“Want to go for a walk?”, you asked when you’d both finished your cups of tea. You’d occupied the same table by the window for hours now.
Out on the street, outside the café, you had a bounce in your step. Above both your heads the street was illuminated by Christmas lights. They glowed like stars on a clear night sky, and the warm and soft light transformed Tom’s world into a glowing vignette, with you in the centre. Reaching out your hand and intertwining them with Tom’s, you dragged him through the streets of London. Together you walked around aimlessly for hours hand in hand – talking and messing around. But eventually all good things must come to an end.
Standing outside the door to your flat Tom thinks back to the last time he had stood right where he was standing right now. Back to Friday night when he’d walked you home. You’d been leaning your side against the door just like you were doing now. And your hands had been interlocked just like they were now. And Tom, he really hadn’t wanted to leave you – just like he didn’t want to leave you now.
“I had a really good time with you today y/n!”, Tom said shyly – breaking the silence. Your eyes were following his thumb rubbing softly over the back of your hand, as a smile tugged at your lips at his words. You looked up at him under fluttering eyelashes.
“I had a really good time with you today too Tom!”, you voice barely a whisper as you moved a little closer. The closer you got the louder and faster Tom felt his heart beating.
“Maybe we could do this again then?”, Tom asked as his eyes fell to your lips. He wanted to kiss you so bad. To feel your soft lips against his. To make you his, and for you to make him yours. He wanted to be yourman.
“I would really like that!”, you breathed out – your eyes flicking from his eyes to his mouth. Tom leaned in a little closer to your face, his lips hovering over yours. When you made no sign of moving away, he looked into your kind eyes and boldly asked, “can I kiss you?”.
Your signature wide smile blossomed on your face at his words and when you nodded your head your nose, cold from the December air, softly bumped into his. With your consent, Tom closed the space between you, and his lips touched yours. You leaned into his kiss and kissed him back, making his stomach burst with fluttering butterflies. Your lips tasted like green tea and Tom found himself craving more of your touch. His hand travelled to your waist, while his other cupped your cheek bringing you even closer to his body.
Running out of air, you both reluctantly broke the kiss. Your hands had found their way to his face, cupping it, while your forehead rested against his. “That was– “, Tom started before you cut him off.
“Kiss me again”, you whispered as you leaned in closer. There was nothing in this world he wanted to do more than to kiss you again. So, he did. He closed the space between you and captured your soft lips in another breathtaking kiss.
