#peter parker mcu

[rainydayathogwarts]

Bed side drawer - Peter Parker

summary: when Tony finds a box of condoms Peter's bed side drawer, he doesn't expect Peter's girlfriend to walk into the room, causing an awkward interaction. a/n: my toxic trait is that i always imagine tasm!peter even tho it's in the avengers universe 0.6k wc

When Peter walks into his bedroom, the first thing his eyes lay on is the box of condoms in his mentor's hand. Tony Stark smirks from where he sits on his mentee's bed, drinking the cup of coffee Aunt May had so graciously prepared him. Peter's eyes go wide, flickering between his open bed side drawer and his mentor, and he dives across the room to get the box from him. Peter nearly hits his head against the wall when Tony tosses the box in the air, catching it in his hand when it falls down again. Peter's face flushes red as he scrambles back up, straightening his bed sheets where he haphazardly landed on them, mouth gaping open. Peter can hear you laughing with his Aunt May in the living room about another one of May's stories. She always had to tell you about the stories of how smitten he was with you, an attempt for your relationship to last forever. He needs to get that box before you walk in because that was not the situation he imagined you'd meet Mr. Stark in. He refused to let it happen.

Peter tilts his head to the side with desperate eyes, begging "Please give me those Mr. Stark." Tony grins teasingly, saying "You know these only work when there are two people involved, right?" Peter doesn't have time to react before the door to his room opens again and you walk in, saying something about the story Aunt May had told you before your eyes land on the older man in the room, prompting you to go silent. Oh no, Peter thinks. Tony quickly's eyes quickly scan you where you awkwardly stand in the doorway, and the obvious mortification that settles on your face at the realisation of who he is.

"Oh."

"Oh." Tony's tone is suggestive, and completely different from yours. He stands up from Peter's bed, slowly making his way across the room to you. His eyes flicker between you and Peter, the box of condoms still in his hands as you shoot a hand out in front of you, smiling nervously and saying "Hi, I'm y/n." in a lowsy attempt to ignore the box laying in the man's hand, eyes glancing down to it a couple of times. Tony shakes your hand, introducing himself, before asking "And who might you be y/n?" Gulping, you glance between your boyfriend, whose face has flushed a dark shade of red, and the avenger standing in front of you. "I'm Peter's girlfriend." You state, eyes widening as Tony puts the box of condoms in your hand.

"There are two people involved then..." You hear him mutter under his breath, but it's nothing as embarrassing as Aunt May walking into the busy room and observing the situation, attention immediately caught by the box of condoms that you throw at your boyfriend in a panic. The box hits Peter's chest and falls on the floor, and neither of you make a move to pick it up whilst you smile awkwardly at May, who follows Tony out of the room. You huff when they walk out, turning around to dig your head into Peter's chest in humiliation. Your boyfriend hugs you close, rubbing a hand on your back, and he's happy you can't hear Tony say "That girl seems too sweet to be having sex with your nephew." or his Aunt May's scoff of "Yeah until you come back home after a night with your friends and hear everything through those walls. She really knows how to talk dirty."

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader literally js making out and being adorable !

i kinda got carried away w this one so it’s a little bit ✨spicier✨ than intended-

!!! 18+ (MDI) !!!

content warnings — a really steamy make–out with Peter, sexual content, teasing.

✨masterlist✨.

1.2k.

The emptiness of Peter’s apartment carried his voice through the echoes, making the space feel that much bigger as you sunk into his couch. His Aunt May had gone out with some friends for the evening, making some suggesting jokes and comments that made you and Peter blush, even long after she’d left.

All the lights were off in the apartment, excluding the lamp behind Peter’s closed bedroom door, and the colorful glow of the television seated in front of you. You and your boyfriend were cuddled on his couch, entranced by George Lucas’s galactic storytelling. Your head had previously been resting on his shoulder, but due to Peter’s current geeky–tangent, you sat up to listen to him better.

“He used to make lightsaber sounds when they were practicing, and he’d have no idea.” Peter was quite expressive when he explained little Star–Wars facts to you. There was something about the way his eyes lit up, and he’d use his arms to guide the sentence.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hiding your amusement as best as possible whilst you listened. Your entire focus was set to him, but the passion he had for these movies never ceased to entertain you. The two of you had been dating for roughly five months, and from the little mental list you were creating of your favorite Peter things, these conversations were one of your top picks.

Peter’s eyes kept flickering back and forth from you to the movie screen, glowing happily as he went on with his vent about Revenge of the Sith, more importantly, Ewan McGregor. “He had been so used to making the effects when he was younger, that when they’d film their battle scenes, Ewan made the sound effects out of habit.”

As much as you had been paying attention to his words, your thread of thought was more occupied with the enthusiasm laced in his voice. The timid dimples that threatened to say hello in the midst of his smile, the ecstatic gesture of his hands, and the glistening tint of excitement that strung within your eye contact. You’d been so entranced by his little geek–out, you almost forgot to respond.

Your grin grew a little, despite every Star–Wars related response fleeting from your brain. You let the first thought you could muster slip through your lips. “You’re adorable.” You probably could’ve given a more thorough and engaged response, but seeing the red that flooded Peter’s expression made it all the more worth it.

Peter looked at you for a moment, completely flustered. He was off guard at the fact that ‘you’re adorable’ was your only response to his Star–Wars tangent. His lips parted a few times to speak, but his words failed every time. “Shut up..”

Carefully, you slid yourself closer to him beneath your shared throw blanket, looking up at him. Your head shook in response as you placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “No.” You replied between kisses, placing a few more across his face. “I need to tell you how sweet and adorable you are...” Sooner than later, your lips found their way to his, connecting in such a sickly sweet way.

The kiss you shared seemed to ease the nerves that accompanied the blush on his face. You could feel the warmth of his fingers trace your upper thighs, pulling one across his legs so you could straddle his lap. You loved the feeling of your lips piecing together; the upper, then the lower, and the way your bodies fit together just as perfectly. It was intoxicating.

“I need to tell you how sweet and adorable you are..” Peter spoke, breathless between your kisses. His voice hummed lower than before, rasping in the back of his throat. Even though he’d just been particularly focused on the movie, his mind now went to other places. Just the thought of your intimacy, mixed with the way his hands kneaded the plush of your hips, sent a thrilling sensation straight down to your lower stomach.

Eyes shut, you were the one to first part from the kiss. “But we’re talking about you, Peter.” You lulled, feeling the way his lips chased after yours to stall your argument. You tucked your head away from his, your left thumb pressing itself on his lips as a barrier. You took the opportunity to cradle his face with your right hand in the process.

Your eyes slowly opened to meet Peter’s, fighting a smirk at how desperately he looked at you. You stared at him through your lashes, keeping your face irresistibly close to his. “I’m not going to kiss you until you take the compliment..” You teased, speaking barely above a whisper. You trusted him enough to remove your thumb, not even a little surprised by how eager he was to kiss you again.

It was easy to dodge him, and delectable to feel the light brushing of lips on yours; the urgency and impatience in his breath fanned against your parted lips, driving you just about as crazy as it drove him. The power you held was ravishing. Tension was quick to build between the two of you, binding both of you that much closer together. It took every bone in your body to fight the urge and cave to his need for you. His head craned in closer, doing everything he could to press his lonesome lips back to yours.

Peter tried to find a loophole. His hands grasping at your ass, his lips trailed and teased at your jawline when you’d dodge him. He found it infuriating, but also just as enjoyable. “Fine...” He huffed, smirking lightly. “Thank you.” Peter met your lips hungrily when you kissed him again, as though he’d been deprived of your embrace for years.

The kiss was much rougher than before, fueling the growing need for friction between your thighs. You rocked your hips against his, pressing the ache in your core to his growing erection. A heavy breath caught in your throat, lips parting further at the pressure. It was easy to let the world around you melt away, getting lost in Peter’s touch as his fingers tugged on your hair, and traveled under the thin fabric of your shirt.

Just like that, the jingle of May’s keys fumbling at the door tied you back to the crisp presence of reality. You flew off your boyfriend’s lap, seating yourself beside him like you had been moments prior. Swift movements brought a pillow to hide Peter’s arousal, and just like that, it looked like you two were merely watching a movie together. Well, minus the matching red hues on your cheeks.

May hummed a tune quietly to herself, mirroring the smile you sent her as she walked into the dark apartment. “The girls and I are heading to Jenny’s for the night, but I wanted to grab my Hennessy.” She chimed, strutting into the kitchen like she’d be out in a jiffy. Her attention got caught on the television for a moment, her smiling growing. “Oh! Pete, you found it!” May glanced at you, “Did he tell you that he spent all afternoon looking for his collectors DVD? He was really looking forward to showing it to you.”

You watched the way Peter’s head hit the back of the couch, pressing his palms into his face to try and mask his embarrassment. “May, stop!” He whined, sustaining out the words to emphasize just how flustered he got. His words were muffled through his hands, but you still couldn’t help but find it adorable. He was just too cute. You just had to let the giggles slip through your lips.

Yep, no doubt about it; Peter’s geeky Star–Wars obsession was definitely one of your favorite things about him. That, and your steamy make–out sessions.

[webslingingslasher]

Wait a minute, who are you?

Pairing: Peter Parker (mcu) x Reader

Genre: fluff,angst

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Peter's been hiding something...

Warnings: mentions of sex, small talk of an old creepy man being an old creepy man

(Part 2 of CRUSH but can be read alone.)

-----------------------------------

Why was Peter Parker refusing you?

Scratch that, why is your boyfriend rejecting you?

He surely had no issue letting you crawl into his lap after placing the computer in his lap to the left side of his bed, and he definitely didn’t have an issue when his raised eyebrows in question were silenced when you pulled him in for a bruising kiss by the collar of his muted flannel.

But funny enough when you started to trail your hands down to meet the skin beneath the thick cotton, just aching to slide your hands under his shirt and over his toned muscle, and rest your cool palms on his hot, beating chest, his hands caught yours in one.

You almost froze into the kiss, he’s never denied you like this.

You steadied your movements and when he noticed your lack of exploration he loosened the hold on your wrists, your hands this time traveling back up, taking a moment to ease him into your next move. You pulled back for a quick breath and resumed, this time you brought your hands down to the buttons of his flannel, you were barely able to pop one on his chest before he held each hand in his.

Peter pulled away from you, his one word was a whisper.

“No.”

Your turn to be confused, because, what?

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head lightly.

“Can I ask why?” He’s never stopped you before, but maybe he’s just not in the mood.

“I just don’t want to tonight.” Peter shrugged his shoulders casually.

But Peter does want to, it’s just that he has a black and purple bruise on quite literally the entire right side of his body. There was no avoiding the questioning, he’s gotten pretty lucky so far, nothing too concerning on his face or body that he couldn’t just play off. But this time he couldn’t think of a story that could justify that, and sometimes when he’s battered he’s had to wait until it was dark in his room, the only light is the moon peaking in the blinds. Or he would have to switch positions for the night, just to get you to keep from looking his way.

And Peter knows it wrong, and one day he’s gonna get caught in something that makes him confess before he’s ready and it will be a bigger issue than it should, but part of him likes that he’s just Peter with you and even though he knows he’s making the wrong decision he doesn’t want to tell you anything until you ask.

You tilt your head at him and purse your lips, trying to see if he was playing at something.

He looked genuine.

“Okay. Do you want to keep making out or do something else? I saw Battleship in your cupboard the other day, I’m sure I could kick your ass.” You grinned at him and played with the lapels of his collar while you waited for a response.

“Hmm, makeout please. Then kick my ass.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, and you tried to be respectful of his no. But old habits die hard and when lost in a daze of Peter’s tongue grazing your own you ground your hips into his. In an act of apology you placed your hand on his waist and squeezed lightly, you pulled from him slightly to mutter an apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Peter’s face scrunched up, almost like you hurt him.

You glanced at the hand on his waist and grabbed again, he grunted this time. You directed your gaze at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing, you’re good. C’mere.”

You pulled your head back.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, I don’t know what you mean.”

You narrowed your eyes and squeezed. Peter did his best attempt at a poker face but you did it tightly this time, and even you saw the wobble of his lip in betrayal.

“That doesn’t hurt?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m fine, baby.” He leaned in for a kiss, if you didn’t know better you would think it’s a distraction.

You squeezed again and this time he removed your hand from him and placed it on his thigh.

“Then let me see.” You tried to move the shirt up but his hand laid on top of yours.

“See what? Nothing is there.”

“Then let me see.”

“No.”

“Peter!” You whined his name, why was he acting like this?

“Y/N.” He kept his tone neutral, not a good sign. He was getting annoyed.

You wanted to see how far you could push him.

“Are you sore?”

He sighed, he knew in his heart he should’ve just taken up the offer for Battleship.

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I just said I was fine, baby.”

You pouted at his claim, it was a bold face lie and you both knew it. In a quick moment you raced to throw his shirt up but he locked his hands around your wrists quicker than you could finish the plan.

“Stop.” He was serious this time, no more playing.

You knew he was over the interrogation by his grip, it didn’t hurt but it was tight. He was subtly hinting he would throw you off him if you didn’t stop.

Peter knows you’re confused and probably a little hurt because you knew he was lying and worse, hiding something he didn’t want you to see. He wonders what you’re thinking, if he’s sore from a new workout, or if he has hickeys all over he doesn’t want you to see, or maybe you were really just thinking why he didn’t trust you.

You held your hands up in surrender, this wasn’t fun anymore.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t ask again, maybe it’s sepsis and you’re dying. It’s fine, no big deal.” You lightly teased him, trying to show you weren’t trying to corner him. You just cared.

Peter rolled his eyes, “It’s not sepsis.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“It’s something.”

Peter just looked in your eyes with pursed lips, both of you refused to break eye contact. The room was silent and unmoving for a solid minute.

“I think it’s time for battleship.”

Peter tapped your thighs to get you to get off him so he could stand up and set up the game, you crossed your arms over your chest and challenged him for a moment, calling his bluff. Was he really about to ignore the whole situation?

The answer was yes, he was just blinking back at you and looked confused as to why you weren’t moving off him. He was prepared to let you win, he was just gonna say you were hitting ships even when you weren’t, just to make you feel like you won something against him.

You huffed and pushed off of him.

“Fine. But don’t let me win, I’m going to kick your ass just because I can.”

And even though you kept putting the largest ship in the same place, Peter let you win.

—--------------------------------------------

“Ouch, what’s that from?”

You frowned at the small graze across Peter’s face, a superficial cut that ran over his right cheek. You placed a light kiss to the mark as if you could heal it instantly.

“I was walking down 5th and May called and I dropped my phone. When I picked it up I stood back up into a bush, got me a good one.”

“It looks like you got hit with something.” (He did.)

You ran your thumb over the injury.

“Yeah, Mother Nature.”

“That’s not a fight I think you can win, dear. But, now my boyfriend looks like a tough guy.”

Peter can get behind that idea, some big strong man you hide behind who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

“Ah, does that do something for you? I can start picking fights if that’s what you want.”

You scrunch your nose at his teasing, “Nah. I love my soft, mushy boyfriend. He’s so nice and kind, he could never hurt anyone.” (He could.)

And those are the kind of comments that make him feel bad, because how was he supposed to tell you he actually is picking fights and isn’t so nice and kind sometimes.

Too bad your hug is crushing him and all he can feel is what he thinks is the right decision.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“Ah! Fuck, what the fuck!”

Your heart raced and you held a hand over your chest to try and regulate the pulses. Your senses bounced off the brick around you, in an effort to catch your breath from the fright you breathed heavily for a second.

“You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Sorry! I thought you heard me!”

The red and blue hero dropped behind you and didn’t say a word until you felt someone watching you and turned ready to scream out ‘Fire!’ and had the daylights scared out of you.

“It’s fine, just got my blood racing a little.”

“What’s up? Long time no see.”

It’s true. You hadn’t seen the masked vigilante for a moment, he was never around or at least wasn’t around when you were.

“Nothing much. My birthday is about to come up, Peter and I are coming up on six months. But, we're also in a rough patch right now, so yeah. That’s fun.”

Rough patch?

You were in a rough patch?

“Rough patch?”

“Yeah. It’s whatever, I’m sure it’s fine.” You shrugged but if you were being honest you were actually kind of losing sleep over it.

“What do you mean?”

Yeah, what do you mean?

“Uh, he’s hiding something from me. And I can’t tell if it’s something big or not, and I’ve really been trying to be cool but if I’m being honest it’s really starting to fuck with my head.” You gave a small laugh at the end but even he could tell it was forced.

Was him not being honest ruining the relationship?

“When did that start?”

Did he start to let his guard drop?

“I don’t know. I think he’s always been kind of, I don’t know. He’s not like, secretive but he’s kind of private, but not really? I mean I can ask him anything but sometimes I can tell he’s just talking around the topic, you know?”

“And recently it’s been getting worse. Like, sometimes he won’t let me touch him. And I don’t think it's me, it’s just because he doesn’t want to be touched. It’s almost like I’m hurting him, and now I can’t help but think maybe he has trauma or something but that’s not a thing you ask outright. I can’t help but think we’re both waiting for the other to bring it up first.”

Ouch.

He’s made his girlfriend feel like shit.

That’s not being the best boyfriend he promised he would be.

Ouch.

“I think you’re right. It not being a you thing, I mean. Maybe he has something he’s not ready to share yet.”

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I know. And I know this sounds shitty, because I want him to work this out on his own and come to me when he’s ready. But, I also want to know I’m not crazy and that there is something he’s hiding. And I can’t just ask if he’s hiding something out of the blue because then he’s going to lie and I really, really hate that he’s been lying. And we both fucking know it, I mean he just looks at me and we both know what he said was a lie but neither of us comment on it.”

Yeah, he feels like shit.

“I just…” You trail off, and for the first time in the past two weeks spiral you cry. And you cry hard, your breaths tremble and you squat with your head between your knees to collapse the spinning thoughts around you.

Peter doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

Because he wants to wrap himself around you and tell you it’s okay.

But he doesn’t think Spider-Man would do that.

So he doesn’t.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, just breathe okay?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes.

“I just really, really love him. Why doesn’t he trust me?” Your voice broke and Peter had to look directly into your teary eyes through his mask and tell you he doesn’t know.

—---------------------------------

It was another Saturday night where Peter was rejecting your advances.

It has been happening more frequently, not super often but enough to make you question something. Peter has just been more on edge, and now that he knows you’re looking for something he doesn’t want to risk it.

You pulled from him and sighed.

“What’s the no for this time?”

He feels like he should be honest.

So he is.

“I have a bad bruise and it hurts, I scraped up my side and it’s ugly.”

“Can I see it?”

“I don’t really want you to.”

At least he was being honest, and that is something you’ll take.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” You grinned at him, and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“I rubbed it against a building, no biggie.” (He was swinging quite fast and was too busy looking at a pigeon trying to fly off with a whole sandwich.)

“Ouch.” You frowned and looked down at his torso.

“Where is it?”

Peter ran a hand over his left rib area and you ducked your head down to place feather light kisses over his shirt.

He sighed and rubbed at the back of your head.

“Feels better already.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------

“Let me kiss it better.”

Peter pulled his hand away from you and hid it, he didn’t want you to kiss it better. You had just walked in two seconds after he dropped the suit from his body, his cheeks glew at the wolf whistle you gave his mostly naked body.

You clocked in on his scraped knuckles, you weren’t sure how it happened but you’ve learned Peter is pretty clumsy. He was usually scraped, cut or bruised somewhere but never so much it drew out real questions you wouldn’t let him escape from.

Peter on the other hand tried to play it off, but in reality he hasn’t washed the blood from his hand yet and he’s not sure whose it is. Was it his or was it from the teeth scraping across as he punched some guy in the jaw a few dozen times?

He didn’t want you to kiss a stranger's blood, even if you took it as rejection he wouldn’t give in and let you win.

“It’s okay, baby. Doesn’t hurt.” (It actually didn’t this time.)

“But it’s my job to kiss your boo-boos.”

“Not tonight, I’d rather kiss you.”

He’s gotten better at redirecting your thoughts.

“I’m okay with that, but don’t put on pants. Just a waste of time.”

You winked at his boxers and nibbled on your bottom lip.

Tonight he didn’t object.

-------------------———————————-

Everything Peter was scared of happening was happening right now.

He doesn’t know how you got here, and he doesn’t know how he stumbled upon you but he is so glad he did. You were currently soaking wet and shivering while heaving breaths, your face was red and wet, he wasn’t sure if it was the rain or tears.

What you were doing in the pouring rain almost two hours into the Bronx is beyond him, he just wanted you home, dry and safe.

“What’s going on?” His panicked questioning made you cry harder.

“I’m not, I don’t, please help me. Please.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you. Can you do that for me?”

Peter watched as you calmed your breath, shoulders shaking from the cold rain on bare skin. Your breaths came in stutters as you tried to speak.

“My phone is dead and I don’t know where I am. I fell asleep on the train and I had to get off and I tried staying in the station but this old fucking creep was following me around,”

Peter’s heart sank.

You were terrified, lost and cold.

“So I came out here and I forgot my jacket at Peter’s and, and, and. I really need him, can you call him please?”

Peter froze.

He can’t call Peter, he is Peter.

“I don’t have his number, I can help you, it's okay.”

Spider-Man tried to reach for your arm but you recoiled and broke into a sob.

“No. Please call Peter, please. I know his number, I would call him on the payphone, I tried but that guy came up right behind me and was pressing into me.”

He felt worse by the second.

You just really, really needed him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“It’s your job! You’re supposed to help. Please call my boyfriend.” You became bitter but it was just nerves.

“I can’t. I can’t give out my number like that, you have to understand. I can get you back home safely, that’s the best I can offer.”

“I don’t want to go alone, he can come. He will come, just call him. He won’t leave me here, I know he won't.”

He knows he wouldn’t either.

But he’s not Peter right now, and he can’t be no matter how much you need him.

“I’ll ride with you. Just so you’re not alone, would that be okay?” He was almost pleading with you, out of every other time he wants this one to be the time where you just shut up and listen.

“I just really don’t want you right now, I’m sorry.” You sniffled and shuffled away from him, blinking away the rain droplets on your eyelashes.

Peter doesn’t know what to say.

You won’t listen to Spider-Man, it’s not who you want.

“Would you come with me to call him? I understand you can’t call him but just so I don’t have to go back down there alone, please?”

Now he has to watch you get ignored 3 times because he can’t answer, he’s right next to you. And he’s staring down the old guy four benches down looking you up and down from the side. After the third call with no answer you slammed the phone down on the hook.

“I don’t know why he didn’t answer. The one time I really, really needed him to answer he didn’t.”

Peter really wishes he could tell you he’s right there, just one arm length away.

“Let me take you home, he probably just has unknown callers silenced. No need to panic, okay?” Peter cautioned the words scared for a blow up on your end but it was worse, it was defeat.

It was disappointment.

It was hurt.

Peter had let you down.

And he watched himself do it.

“What if he calls back?”

“He can’t. You can’t call payphones back.”

Peter isn’t sure if that’s true, but he does know that the phone will never ring.

“Okay. You can take me home.”

Three stops before yours you told Spider-Man he could leave. You promised you would be okay and that you really appreciated him taking the hours out of his evening to get you home even after you freaked out on him.

As soon as the doors opened you were met with the worried eyes of your boyfriend, a smile broke over his face as you stepped through. You were confused but more than anything, you were safe, comforted, and warm. He was so, so warm. And he had a jacket for you.

“How did you know I was here?” Your cold nose was buried in his shoulder.

“Private caller. They left me a message and said you were here and waiting for me, heard you got a little lost.”

“I was so so sacred. Spider-Man found me, and I was begging him to call you. I wonder if he did, I called you three times.”

“On the payphone? I have unknown callers silenced, from now on I’ll keep them on okay? I’m sorry you were scared, it’s a good thing Spidey was there huh?”

You shook your head and pressed into him for a hug.

“There isn’t anyone or anything that makes me feel safer than being right here.”

Peter decided then he has to tell you.

—------------------------------------------

It’s fair you’re pissed at Peter.

He knows it’s fair, he just hopes you’ll still date him after this.

And of course he was right, you found out before he was ready to tell you and he knows it’s gone on too long, and there wasn’t going to be an easy way to break the news but you finding out on your own made you spiral into a frenzy and now you refused to speak to him.

He had just washed his suit, and with the technology he couldn’t dry it so on wash days he kept it hung in his closet to air dry until he would use it that night.

Then you came over and rolled around in his bed, then begged him to make you a grilled cheese, then begged to watch the new season of reality TV on Netflix, which he hates but knows you love the drama. He also feels a little good because the whole time you cling to his arm and watch the guys berate their new fiancès and tell Peter you’re so glad he doesn’t act like that.

It was totally normal until the evening.

You had asked to take a shower before dinner, and sat on his bed with your wet hair dripping down your pajama shirt, and his fan iced the droplets and it sent chills up your back. You were planning on spending the night and so in your shivers you dug yourself under his blankets but the cold had already settled into your bones and you were contemplating getting a hoodie of Peter’s out of his closet.

“Hey.”

You were almost at his closet doors when he interfered.

“I’m cold.”

“C’mere.” He opened his arms for a hug but his warmth wasn’t settling the chill in your body.

“Want to do chinese? If not, we can do that pasta thing again.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet. I’m too cold to decide, I’m gonna grab a hoodie.”

You broke from the hug and Peter stepped to the side in front of you again.

“I can grab it.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, you’re not sure if Peter’s love language was more acts of service or physical touch.

“It’s okay, I can manage.”

You tried to step to the side once more but he followed you.

“No really, I insist.”

Even with a smile on his face you saw the slight panic, he didn’t want you in his closet.

“What? Are you hiding your other girlfriend in there or something?”

He was hiding something in there for sure. Just not another girl.

“Oh yeah, there’s another one under the bed too. I’m surprised you didn’t see the third one hiding in the shower.”

A shudder ran down your spine and you were able to place a hand on the closet handle before Peter leaned against the doors so they wouldn’t open.

“I got it.”

You furrowed your brow at him, why was he acting like this?

“Yeah, I can too.”

“No really, let me.”

You don’t know why but suddenly you were warm with slight rage, why was he being so fascitous? There was no reason for him to be trying so hard to keep you from opening the doors but there was.

And you didn’t know why.

“No. Let me.”

You pulled at the handle but it didn’t budge under Peter resting against it.

“Peter, move.”

He thinks this is the moment. You’re about to find out and he’s terrified.

“Baby I don’t mind, let me take care of you.” This was his last plea, hiding behind wanting to take care of you and not because he was trying to hide his suit. Not at all.

“What are you hiding?” You jiggled the handle again.

“What? Nothing.”

“No, it’s something.” You weren’t even cold anymore, this was about standing your ground.

“I don’t-“

You cut him off, you were done with the lies.

“Then move.”

Peter stayed silent this time.

He was about to let you in.

He was about to watch the other shoe drop.

You pushed his shoulder to move him off the door and he stumbled away while holding his breath. He wasn’t even as half as nervous when May found out.

You opened the door and let out a breath.

“See? Did it just fine on my own.”

Your hand ran across the right rack looking through the hooded collection searching for your favorite. You didn’t get why he was so adamant on you not doing this yourself, there was absolutely no issue.

You slipped the thick blue fleece off the hanger and turned sideways to close the door, and when the door was almost shut your breath hitched, did you just see what you thought?

Peter stayed still, he knows you saw.

You slowly cracked the door back open and looked at the left rack. And it was there, hung up. Just spandex and so innocent looking, you almost told yourself it was just an authentic replica. A costume.

But you knew better.

And by his reaction, or lack of, was answer enough.

You dropped the sweatshirt to the ground and ran a thumb over the shoulder of the suit, the same texture that was on your cheek when you asked him to not beat up Peter.

Peter was Spider-Man.

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man.

You confided in him several times, about him.

You felt so dirty, and played, and dumb, and belittled. Each time you talked with him replayed in your mind, every conversation and accusation.

It was so unfair.

Peter always had the upper hand, and you weren’t even aware he did.

Peter just watched your reaction, your thumb didn’t move. You didn’t move, just stayed still until your hand dropped and when you turned to look at him he stayed silent waiting for you to break the ice.

He was going to wait until you asked him a question or all of them, but you didn’t. You just shook your head at him and shoulder checked him as you walked out his room and headed to grab your bag by the front door to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop, let’s talk.”

“You don’t want me to talk to you right now.” You sounded so bitter, so hurt, so angry.

“Yes I do, let me hear it.”

“No. I literally don’t even want to see you right now.”

Peter moved to stand in front of the door and true to your word you had your head turned to the wall in effort not to look at him. Even seeing him, watching him try to handle this with ease unsettled you. He didn’t realize how uncomfortable you felt right now.

“Baby, let’s talk, okay? I’ll answer any questions.”

You laughed bitterly at his words, funny now he was the king of honesty.

“You know maybe you can send Spider-Man out to collect all the intel on Peter and I’s issues.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant to happen.”

“Fuck off, Peter. I really, really don’t want to be around you. But, you know, I’m sure Spidey will track me down and ask me about an issue he somehow knows I’m having.”

He shook his head and tried to defend himself, “That’s not-“

“That’s not how it happened, I get it. The first time was a fluke, I’ll give you that. But every other time you knew who I was, and what I wanted. You played into it, you should’ve ignored me. You shouldn’t have kept tracking me down or talking to me, you had an unfair advantage the entire time.”

“You should’ve never talked to me as him after I told him I liked you. That is dirty behavior and now I really don’t trust you, I mean what else are you hiding?”

Peter knows in his heart this was deserved, he knows what you mean, and you’re not wrong. He knows in his heart that he only cared and was checking up on you but to you it felt like he was playing you.

“I know, I know. I wanted to tell you, I really did, I swear. I just really liked that you didn’t know, and it wasn’t even sadistic, I just liked being just me around you. I didn’t want to explain every detail of what I do, or what I did that night, you know?”

“No, Peter. I really don’t know, I didn’t talk to you like a third party person and pretend like I didn’t actually know you. I was only honest with you, and you weren’t. I genuinely don’t know what is real or a lie anymore.”

You were hurt and confused and honestly it was fucking hard with your head, did he act or say certain things because you told Spider-Man what you wanted?

Was he ever going to actually tell you?

“I love you. And I know I messed up, but I promise nothing was a lie. Everything I told you about Peter as Spider-Man was true.”

And Peter was being honest, he didn’t mean to mess it up this hard. He knew you wouldn’t be happy but he didn’t expect you to question the entire relationship.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I know I should’ve but I didn’t want this to happen.”

He pointed between you two and your face hardened, he didn’t understand your point.

“This isn’t happening because you didn’t tell me you were Spider-Man, I get why you didn’t tell me. This is happening because you kept using it to your advantage, and you knew what you were doing. You should have left me alone. That’s why this is happening.”

Peter wasn’t sure how to navigate this anymore, everything he said was the wrong thing. Maybe you were right, he should’ve let you leave, you weren’t ready to talk about this right now.

He let out a sigh and rubbed at his forehead, he understood that you needed space and talking it out was making it worse.

“Okay, okay. I know you’re mad, and hurt and upset with me right now. And I don’t want to fix that, I just want you to work through this with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to leave? If you need time away from me it’s okay.”

“Yeah.”

You threw your backpack over a shoulder and passed by him towards the door before he grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“I know you are.”

Peter frowned at the response.

“You’ll call me if you need something right? We’re okay for now?”

You nodded at him and pulled your wrist from his grasp.

“We’re okay. I love you. I’ll call you later.”

At least you said you loved him back, but he couldn’t help but feel off after watching you leave without a glance back.

Peter feels like he’s really, really messed up.

————————————-

“Hi.”

Peter whipped his head down at you, he wasn’t expecting you to approach him in the suit, especially after yesterday. You hadn’t talked to him for a whole twenty four hours and he actually felt like he was going crazy. And he didn’t realize how often he texts or snapchats you or sends links until he decided to leave the contact up to you.

He wasn’t upset at you, you were upset at him so he thinks it’s fair that you come to him first. But he really wasn’t expecting that it would be a day later, maybe a few days at least if he was basing it off of how upset you were yesterday.

“Hi.”

“I missed you.” You sniffled.

“I missed you, too.”

Peter watched you slowly trying to gauge your reaction, he genuinely couldn’t tell what you were thinking and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Wanna talk?”

You nodded your head slowly, and looked around the space you were in wondering if it was a quiet enough spot. Off the busy street you tucked away into the corner of the alleyway, your eye catching the webbed bag up the wall.

He jumped off the roof and followed you and waited for you to talk, he watched as you soaked him in for a second. You’ve seen Spider-Man before but now knowing he was Peter you looked at him differently, you were drawing over his curves and dips with your eyes and you reached out to run a hand down his front.

“Can I… Can you take off your mask?”

In an instant he pulled it off and you watched as his hair fell down in a fluff, you reached a hand out to smooth over the curls, trying your best to place it the way he normally has it despite knowing it was about to get ruined.

“Feels weird seeing you in the suit, it’s like you’re cosplaying.”

“How do you put it on?” You traced over his chest and then turned him around as you searched for a zipper.

“The spider.” He lightly ran his glove over the emblem and without understanding the concept you pressed the spider confused with the steps.

“Oop!” Your arms flailed as you were unsure what to do, in one motion the suit expanded and quite literally fell off his body. Even hiding in the corner you tried to shield him from any outside views.

Peter giggled as you fumbled around, he drew the suit back up and grabbed your hand to press the spider as it conformed back into his shape.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it would do that.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled warmly and you were desperate to kiss him so you did.

“What’s up?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and pondered on what to say, or more what to ask. More than anything knowing that your boyfriend was now an open book and was willing to answer any questions you had.

“Can you see out of that?”

You pointed at the mask in his hand.

“Mhm.” He nodded.

You couldn’t picture how, it looked like mesh. In fact when you ran your thumb over it, it felt like mesh.

“How?”

“Well my senses make it hard to-“

“No, how did it happen? How are you him?”

“A spider bite. Radioactive spider, I didn’t realize until the next morning that something was up. I woke up and felt like my head was splitting open cause I could hear the entire city in my head.”

“When?”

“When I was 15.”

“Who else knows?”

“May, MJ and Ned.”

You nodded slowly, everyone knew.

And you didn’t.

“If it makes you feel better it’s not just you I never told, everyone just found out on their own.”

You hummed and nodded your head.

“So everytime you said no to sex you were hiding a Spidey ingury?”

“Correct.”

You didn’t know how to move forward, what happened next? Do you forget what happened?

You do understand why he didn’t say anything, but he also should’ve never interfered after the first time. You can’t help but feel a little violated, and it’s not like you cared Peter knew what you said, it’s how he was hearing that bothered you.

“I’m still upset at you.”

You sniffled again and rolled a pebble under your foot, you watched Peter frown before looking behind you and pulling you into him and behind the dumpster.

You pulled a face of confusion until you heard chattering voices and group laughs walking by the clearance. His strong hearing impressed you, it was new seeing him react to his senses in front of you.

“I know, baby. And I understand, I know what I did was wrong. And I don’t want to try and justify it but, in my mind I was just caring for you. I didn’t even think of it like that, and I don’t know why I didn’t. Cause I’d be peeved if the situation was swapped.”

Peter was honest, he knew after sulking all night he was wrong. He did exploit his position but he just loved you and cared for you and just wanted you to feel safe and heard, but you wanted to do all of that with Peter, not Spider-Man.

“You know what hurts me the most?”

Peter doesn’t want to hear it.

“No, what?”

“When you didn’t tell me that day when I got lost. I was fucking petrified and I needed you, you saw how much I needed you and you just went along with the story. Looking back on that now I just feel so hurt.”

Peter felt his heart drop.

He let you down.

He knows he did that day.

It just really hurt having you confirm his fears.

“It really, really hurt me not to tell you. And that doesn’t compare to how you felt, I just want you to know that even though I caused this, I didn’t feel good doing it.”

Peter wasn’t evil, he was a sweet boy. Just a little unaware.

And that’s what you loved most about him.

“That's it, right? No more secrets?”

Peter laughed and nodded his head.

“That’s it. I promise.”

“Total transparency?”

You raised your hand to shake his and spread your fingers over his gloved hand, warmth seeking into your palms.

“Total transparency.”

You bit your lip and over exaggerated your hand shake.

“Good. Cause I have some questions.”

“I’ll answer all of them.”

“Okay! Did you get all your powers at once or was it one at a time? How fast can you swing? How slow can you swing? Have you ever hit a bird? When do you eat? Wait, how do you pee? How do your webs work? Please don’t say they come out of you.”

You paused for a gulp of air and watched Peter’s eyes go wide.

“Are all your senses effected? Can you super smell now? And how do your senses work? Could I wear the mask? Or does it only work for your head? Wait, do you know Tony Stark? Could I meet Tony Stark? Do you have a room at the Avengers tower? Is Tony Stark cool? Can you-“

“Baby breathe.”

Peter watched your face grow in color while you continued to ask away, and if he was honest he needed you to stop for a minute.

“Sorry! I’m just curious.”

You watched Peter try and mentally checklist the questions so he could respond and you bit your cheek while he counted the questions. Your mind started to wander off.

“So if you were swinging through-“

Peter now thinks this is the worst case scenario of you finding out about his alter ego.

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

When Peter goes to college

Clint: Hey, can we stay in your dorm tonight? Peter: Why? Clint: Tony fiddled with an ouija board and cursed ours. Steve: We don't know how to banish spirits, so Tony is just throwing salt at them and yelling "DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HOTEL TO YOU?!"

[bitchyycapricorn]

Draw Me Like One of Your Italian Girls

Peter Parker x Artist!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2k

Synopsis: During a school trip to Venice Italy, Peter finds himself in his classmates room.

Warnings:Smut!, unprotected sex, consumption of alcohol (reader and Peter are 18+ legal age), intoxicated sex, nude artwork, could be considered dubcon

AN: not edited. This has been in my drafts for over a month.

Your eyes flicker from the reference on your laptop, then back down to your paper. Your pencil sketches smooth charcoal lines across the off white paper. Furrowing your brows, you shift the image slightly to get a better look at the image displayed on your screen. 

“Hey Y/N, what are you up to?” Peter asks, popping his head into your room. 

Stopping your movement, your eyes drift up to where he’s leaning against the doorway. “Drawing,” you reply with a small smile before going back to your sketch. 

Peter shifts awkwardly at the door, “Like a picture?” The words come out before he can fully think about what he was saying. And as soon as they came out, he wanted to drown himself in the canal. 

Another smile appears across your face, this time it stays for a moment. “No, I’m drawing up a plan to murder the rest of the class before fleeing the city to live as a fugitive in Rome.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding. “O-oh yeah, that makes sense.” 

You catch the nervous twitch in his voice, the way his body appears to be more tense than usual. “You can come in and shut the door.” You say after a moment of silence. 

He nods quickly, stepping into your hotel room before closing the door. “So uh, where’s your roommate?” Peter asks after fully shuffling into your room. 

“Brads room.” You shrug. 

Another “oh,” escapes his lips knowing that your roommate wouldn’t be back anytime soon. You give a small nod before patting the spot next to you on the bed. “So um, what are you drawing?” Peter asks finally. 

A blush spreads across your cheeks as you tilt the picture for him to see. His eyes scan the drawing and he immediately recognizes him and Ned near the docks. 

“You were actually in the way when I was taking my picture, but I decided you both were cute enough to make the cut.” You tease. 

Peter could feel his face starting to flush again, “cute enough?” He laughs. 

Giving a simple nod, you continue your work. “So what brings you to my room Parker?”

Peter debates whether he wants to be honest or not. On one hand, he could say he had a question about tomorrows tour. On the other, he could ask you to go on a walk with him along the canals. Mainly so that he can confess his feelings for you, which he’s been bottling up since as long as he can remember. “Would you like to walk with me?” He asks quickly, deciding it was worth a shot. 

“Mm, but that would mean I’d have to step out of my artistic zone.” You hum, finishing the last of the sketch and setting it on your nightstand. 

“Y-yeah of course, I’ll just-“ Peter replies as he moves towards the door, assuming you were politely turning down his advances. 

Panic quickly floods your brain as you watch him begin to leave. “Wait!” 

Peter pauses, turning to face you. “Yeah?”

“Stay, let me draw you.” The words tumble from your mouth in a hurry, as you pray the brunette boy won’t exit your room, at least not yet. 

Peter’s body seems to stiffen even more before slowly relaxing ad he looks around the room for a moment. “You want to draw me?” 

A hum leaves your lips as you gaze hopefully at Peter. “I enjoyed drawing you in this one,” you nod to the picture on your nightstand, “you have a nice figure.”

Another blush spreads across Peters face as he takes a seat on the small bench in your room. 

“Is this good?” He asks, trying to sit up straight for you. 

“Yes, just stay still…”

+++

You had been drawing and posing Peter for the last four hours. Somewhere around 11 you had both found the ‘complimentary’ drink assortment stored away in the little cabinet. 

You weren’t really sure which glass of wine/alcohol you and Peter were on now, just that you were stumbling slightly and giggling like crazy. 

Peter’s shirt had been discarded to the floor some time ago and you were still busy ogling over his toned chest. His defined muscles and hard abs that were otherwise hidden by his clothes made the butterflies in your stomach twist and turn. 

“Take your pants off now,” you slur, running your hands down Peters chest as you both stumble around the room. 

“My pants?” Peter quips, equally as drunk. 

“Mhm, I wanna draw you neeked,” a giggle escapes your lips as your fingers fumble around with the zipper of Peter’s jeans. 

It takes a moment for Peter to understand exactly what you want, but once it hits his jeans and boxers are discarded on the floor in a small pile. “Like this?” He coos, throwing his arms in the air to show off his now very naked figure. 

You clap your hands together and squeal, “Good good, now pose for me.” Peter stands there with his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. Your eyes scan his body up and down, taking in the sight of not only his hard chest, but his hard dick as well. “God you’re built like a Greek god,” you breathe, quickly beginning to sketch. 

Peter hums before giving you a smirk. “Or Roman god since we’re in Venice.” 

“Modeled after the Greek gods sweetheart,” you snicker, making the outline of his abs with your pencil. 

“Are you as turned on as I am right now?” He asks after a few minutes. 

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, moving your pencil downwards to sketch his throbbing cock. “After I finish this I’ll suck your dick.” You giggle again.  

“Oh god,” Peter moans, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. “Are you done yet?”

“No silly. I’m still drawing your penis.” Another snicker leaves your lips as you delicately sketch out Peter’s lower regions. 

Peter lets out a groan, shaking his hips slightly. “Look it moves!” 

You look up to see Peter swishing his dick back and forth causing you to let out a loud shriek. “You have to stay still so I can finish!” A wheezey laugh leaves your chest as you move down to draw his legs. “I’m almost done I promise,” you grin. 

“Well hurry,” Peter whines, staying as still as his drunk little body could. 

“Shhh you can’t rush perfection.” You hush, moving as quickly as you could through your sketch. It took a few more minutes before you turned the drawing around to show Peter. “Look. You’re like the statue David.” You beam proudly. 

He gives you a lopsided grin before quickly scampering over to your bed. “Take your cloths off too and I’ll draw you!” He ushers as you add the sketch to the many others from that night. 

“Okay okay,” quickly getting up you strip completely, kicking your cloths off to the pile of Peter’s clothes. A low hum escapes his lips as he takes your sketch pad and pencil. 

“Pose!” He grins, watching you get into the same pose as him. You place your hands on your hips and stick your chest out proudly.

“Boobs…” Peter mumbles, sketching out a big circle for your head, followed by a stick body, stick legs, and stick arms. He then adds your hair, eyes, and a smile. Looking at the photo for a minute he realizes what he’s missing. “Boobs,” he says again as he draws two boobs onto your stick body. “Perfect!” He cries as he turns it around to show you. 

“Oh! Oh! You’re an artist! A sexy sexy artist,” you cry, wobbling over to Peter so you can throw yourself into his arms. Your legs straddle his hips, hands going into his soft curly hair. His lips press sloppily to yours as he tosses the notebook to the ground. His hands move up to your hips, squeezing the plush skin. 

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He moans against your lips. “The reason I asked you to walk with me earlier was because I wanted to tell you how I feel. I wanted to kiss you in front of the bridge.” His lips press against yours again before continuing. “But this is so much better.” 

“Is it because we’re naked?” You moan, grinding your hips into his. You’re slick gliding over his hard cock as you rock your hips. 

“Fuck, yes.” He groans, eager to be in you.

You let your another moan as you continue to move your hips against his. “Can I put it in me?” You beg, as if you could read Peter’s mind.

He nods as he kisses you again “please,” he groans as he helps lift your hips up. You quickly reach between the two of you so you could line him up at your entrance. Peter helps you ease down onto his throbbing cock. His tip barley enters you before his hips involuntarily buck upwards. You let out a small cry as he bottoms out into your sensitive cunt, eyes fluttering shut as his hips drop back down onto the bed. 

Another gasp leaves your lips as Peter begins to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Fuck you feel so good Y/N,” he growls in your ear. His fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your sloppy, drunken movements as you grind on his dick. 

He’s so deep in you that you can practically feel him bulging in your stomach. “Peter fuck, you’re filling me so well,” you gasp as his hips thrust up into yours now. A feeling in your stomach begins to grow as Peter continues his brutal attack, his cock going deeper into you with every thrust. 

Stars begin to form in your vision as you press your chest into Peter’s face, his hands keeping your hips still so he can thrust up into you. His hips snap up to yours again as the feeling in the pit of your stomach grows, slowly spreading all over your body. You let out a strangled cry, feeling yourself come undone, cunt clenching around Peters dick making him moan. Your orgasm spreads all over your body like a hot fire, Peter helping to grow the flame as he keeps thrusting into you. 

His hips falter for only a moment before he gives one last deep thrust into you, filling your cunt with his cum. Your body goes slack as you fall forward into Peter. His brain and body going completely blank as well as he falls backwards, bringing you with him.

+++

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of Peter’s face only inches from yours, his hot breath fanning your cheek. You can feel his hot skin on yours as you go to unstick yourself from his sweaty grasp. Your head is pounding and your whole body feels weak. As you sit up it becomes evident that Peter had stayed in you the entire night. As your hips shifted slightly you could feel his dick hardening in you again, filling you up like he had the night before. 

A small groan escapes Peter’s lips as he shifts on the bed. His eyes peel open, looking around the unfamiliar room. A small shriek escapes from his mouth when he notices you sitting naked on his lap, his dick buried inside your cum filled cunt. 

“Sh sh, what the fuck happened?” You groan, holding your head as you look around your now destroyed room. 

“Shit, I think we had sex!” Peter groans, memories slowly coming back to him. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, noticing the the abundance of empty bottles discarded around the room. Your eyes travel over to the nightstand where an assortment of drawings lay spread out. All of them are Peter, some with his clothes on, some with his shirt off, then the one of him completely nude… Oh, and the one Peter drew of you. 

“I’m so so sorry, this is all my fault,” Peter sputters, guilt building up in his stomach as he realizes what truly happened last night. 

You let out a long sigh before laughing. “Why are you apologizing? I had a blast, even if some things are a bit fuzzy.”

Peter stops his profuse apologizes, eyeing you carefully. “You aren’t mad?” 

You shake your head, letting out a small hum as you eye the pictures again. “No, I’m glad you came into my room last night.”

+++

Taglist

@nataliewalker93 @sarapaprikas-blog @justkeepitblanc @sickomodesmell @etaerealboy @purplerose291 @witheringawayagain @arij3lly @dandelionqueen @brightlilith @laurens2002 @siriusly1 @shugrcrush @hazzarules @cl0v3r-s0up @jibiwoni @maria-pqrker @just-henny @little-jana @ellie-emb @valslittleheart @reeseisinapiece @happilyneverafter69 @gram-cracker24 @kisstheskin @whenmypartysover @nightiresss @wowitsem @chinaza444 @sherlockstrangewolf @daisydark @shine101 @moniffazictress11 @cryptidcreaturewrites @severenpcenergy

[presleyluvschris]

chilly

pairing(s): mcu peter parker x sick!fem!reader

desc basically im obsessed with sick!fics. posted one a while back for another fandom 🤭 just peter worried.

a/n holy shit im so sorry i haven't been posting lately my loves. my house is currently being sold and i've been running ramped. i wrote this after i had time off work. hope you enjoy.

warnings language, fluff, grammar. (please message me if i missed any!)

@cozytober2023

requests | open 💌 masterlist

It was only October 7th and you we're already a stuffy snotty sticky mess from the sudden drop of temperature outside.

It was cold outside, but the light from your wooden bedroom windows sunbathed the room, brightening your pale complexion.

tissues were plastered all over your messy bed and your phone was constantly dinging with messages from your group chat. you didn't show up to work, or to school that day, and by the looks of your random naps and binge watches on Netflix, you had forgot to call anyone to let them know you couldn't make it, including your boyfriend peter.

you kept coughing which made your head pulsate more as you wrapped your blanket around you and curled into it, squirming and desperately trying to get comfortable.

he was always super protective of you. sometimes it was really annoying but it felt good to know he was always thinking of you. and thats probably an understatement.

you felt sick. that might've been a blunt word, but everytime you tried to swallow your own spit it hurt like hell and you felt your head beating in pain like a heart would pump blood.

you groan and pull your comforter back over your head before you flutter your eyes closed and try to get your mind off the pain in your throat. It burned everytime you breathed which made you hiss uncomfortably. You eventually get yourself to fall asleep (after way too many doses of NyQuil) with half of your body immersed in your pillow.

you rested softly for a few hours before you woke to the sound of peter climbing through your window. you're eyes could barely adjust to the light as your tried to look up to see who it was, but your body was too tired to try and shake yourself up.

he rolled on the floor after falling from your complicated window sill but quickly got up with a groan.

he puffs, dusting him self off as he looks around the room for his girl.

"love?" peter looked around curiously to find you laying in your bed.

he carefully knelt down and shook you slightly as you woke up again with a jump.

you cough. "jesus, peter. you scared the shit out of me." you shift your arms behind you to prop yourself up, as he tucks a piece of your hair that fell back behind your ear.

"sorry," he laughs. "i just got really worried. I came as soon as I could. are you alright? why weren't you at school? or work- MJ said you didn't come."

his smile turns into a concerned perplexed look.

"uh", you sit up and rub your eye, coughing.

he noticed you sweating, and your puffy red eyes and a nose rubbed red.

"are you feeling okay?" his eyes and face look soft for you as his lip pouted a little.

he comes closer to you, kneeling down as he rests his hand on your forehead gently. you press your lips together and sniffle.

"pete, im fine."

"but- you're burning up!" he adds, as you look away from him.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? i could've taken school off or-"

"peter." you look up.

"no." you croak, "i would never let you do that."

He puffs his cheeks and breathes out as he sits with you in your bed. You look in your boyfriends eyes as he turns his head to examine you.

"you don't look well, sweets." he frowns as he kisses the top of your forehead.

"i know", you say as you sniffle and your face starts to tickle a little.

he hands you a tissue as you sneeze in your sleeves. "bless you." he rests his tongue to the side of his mouth.

spidey senses.

"you okay?" he looks at you.

"mhm", you purse your lips.

you blow your nose as he looks at your face again.

"you gonna let me take care of you?" he holds his breath in worry.

you shake your head. "no."

he frowns again. "but you're sick! you're my girlfriend I can't just leave you here." He seems stressed, folding his his hands on your arms.

you cough and add, "i don't want you to get sick. plus, you have patrol tonight."

he shakes his head. "no way, im staying."

"No." you look in his eyes.

"Yes." he nods.

"No, peter."

"Yes, y/n." he crosses his arms.

you sigh.

"im staying right here." He says determinedly as he wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. worry chilled up his spine for you.

"okay," you give up. "its cold anyway." you couldn't resist him. you didn't want him to patrol in the this insane cold weather anyways.

you pull a sweatshirt over your head.

"movie?" we whispers. "i'll get you snacks." he rubs your back softly.

you sweat a little and try to swallow.

you smile a little, "okay."

coughing, he rubs your arm. "are you okay?" he looks at you worriedly.

"im fine, my body just hurts."

he pulls you in a hug before kissing your head and leaving the room to go to the kitchen.

he gets back almost instantly with a bag of candy and popcorn, setting it on the bed and a mug of hot tea for your throat on the bedside table.

"can i get you anything else?" he looked sad.

your heart warmed and hurt at the same time.

"no, im okay."

he places a bowl of soup down next to the mug as you lean over to take it and sip it gently.

he lays in your bed as you open your laptop to the same crime documentary.

"again?" he groans, shifting his neck up against the pillow as he scrunches his face, looking at the ceiling.

as you giggle he looks up to see your smile which made his stomach hurt.

"yes, again." you try to hold back your lips from curling into a laugh.

he sighs and clicks the play button on your computer.

you rest your head on his chest, snuggling into him as he lays his arm around you, intertwining your hand into his.

"love you." he whispers in your hair softly, tucking a kiss to the back of your head.

taglist my idols/inspo @everythingisawayoflife @cafekitsune @luveline @scarthefangirl @elliexmylove @thevoidsaidnothanks @thestarvingwriter @spider-stark @bittenbyyou @incorrectmarvelquote @badass-dora-milaje @yes-i-am-happyaspie join my taglist ♡

[lolxdswag123]

Aftermath of a Mission

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: y/n and Peter are used to decompressing after a mission together. This time, it isn’t so easy. What happens when they both have to figure it outout on their own?

warnings: crying, some angst, accidental pulling out of hair, slight ptsd

——————————————————————————

Exhausted. Aching. Bored. I couldn’t focus on a word that Dr. Banner was saying during our debrief. All I could do was sit back and stare at the wall until it was over.

I wasn’t even sure why I had to attend these meetings as I wasn’t technically even an Avenger. My dad insisted that I sit in because it’ll be useful to me in the future.

I tapped my foot, checking my watch, anxious to leave the conference room. I glanced across the table to my best friend, who looked just as exhausted as I felt. I definitely zoned out looking at him, because the next thing I noticed was him looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows, as if asking what’s wrong.

I let out a yawn in response, shooting a glance at the door and hoping he could read my thoughts. I just wanted to get out of there.

Missions can be fun sometimes, but the recovery is most certainly not. I’d typically spend about a day in bed before I could finally start functioning as a normal human being again. Usually that day in bed is spent with my best friend.

It started after a particularly rough mission about a year ago. Peter wasn’t even going out with us yet at that point, but he had just been sick— and we both desperately needed rest. I had gotten a minor injury to my ribs, and Peter being the sweetest best friend in the world decided to come check on me and bring me ice. He ended up falling asleep next to me for about 15 hours. My dad threw a tantrum.

Ever since then— as long as we’re sneaky enough— it has become a habit for us after we come back from missions. And maybe a few other occasions as well.

It was just easier to sleep next to someone else. Especially after the mental and emotional strain that missions bring. Being with someone who brings you comfort makes all the difference.

I swear I was already half asleep by the time the meeting finally ended, moving extra slowly as I got up and exited the room. I latched onto Peter's arm, leaning most of my body weight on him as we headed to the elevators.

Steve and Nat stayed behind, somehow still having more to discuss. They were nuts.

We entered the elevator with my dad and Thor. They each pressed their respective buttons, going to the floors of the compound that their rooms were on. I reached out as well, pressing the level 3 button for my room.

My dad stood up straight, moving in front of the elevator panel before glancing over at us and speaking, "Where you headed, Pete?"

Peter didn't have a real room at the compound yet, so he really should've been headed to the showers on level 1. Although, for the past year he has just been showering in my bathroom- not to my dad's knowledge of course.

"Uh-mm," he choked out smoothly.

I shook my head, speaking for him, "He's just going to shower in my bathroom, dad."

I could feel Peter tense against me, clearly afraid of my dad's reaction.

My father dramatically turned his head, using his palm to bang on his ear a couple times, before removing his ear piece all together and saying, "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just said that Spider-boy is showering in your bathroom."

I rolled my eyes, sighing, about to speak back when Thor spoke up, "Ah, Stark, let them have their fun. On Asgard I had many women bathing in my chambers by that age." He said, patting my father on the back.

I rolled my eyes, knowing Thor's comment is no help at all.

My father shook his head, facing me and sticking a scolding finger out at me, "You are not showering with your little boyfriend under my roof. Understood?"

I blushed, hating his phrasing. The elevator stopped, and Thor stepped forward, nodding awkwardly to us before exiting.

When the doors closed again, I rolled my eyes, turning to my father again, "First of all, we're not showering together," I said, using air quotes, "And second, he isn't my boyfriend. It's just easier to have someone there after these missions, you know that better than anyone, dad."

I crossed my arms, awaiting his response.

He shook his head, "Nope. Not today, kid. Pete, I'll escort you to the first floor showers."

The elevator door dinged, and it was my turn to leave. I glanced up at Peter, hoping that he would find a way to come back to my room later. He gave me a nervous look, so I wasn't too sure he would.

I squeezed his hand, exiting the elevator without looking back, but I could hear my dad mumbling something about "no spider-babies" as I walked away.

After a much-needed, very refreshing shower, I sat on my bed in my towel, feeling the weight of the past few days lingering over me like a storm cloud, ready to let loose at any moment.

Usually after missions Peter and I would immediately come to my room, and everyone was too exhausted to even pay attention. Today however, the debrief had taken so long that there was no easy way for us to come back together.

It felt lonely. I had a heavy feeling of emptiness in my heart. I hadn’t realized how much I’d gotten used to his presence at times like these. Even with the winding down after we got back— he had always been there. We’d sit in eachother’s comfortable silence, he’d comb my hair for me, we’d patch up eachother’s wounds, and then we’d fall asleep together.

I was embarrassed by how much this was affecting me. I was a Stark, I should’ve been okay being alone. And yet, I could feel tears stinging my eyes as I sat there, trying to comb out my own hair. My hands were shaking from a mixture of fatigue and frustration, making it even more difficult to get through the knots. Peter had always been so gentle.

My comb got stuck on a particularly tough knot. I tugged, causing clump of hair to come out, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I instantly started sobbing.

I could feel my body trembling, desperately needing sleep and desperately needing company. I threw on the first clothes that I could find, knowing I looked crazy, and headed out into the hall in search of my best friend.

I cried, wiping my tears with the sleeves of my shirt, and shifted uncomfortably with the feeling of wet hair on my back. I felt overstimulated if the feeling of overstimulation was on steroids and a red bull.

I heard footsteps from the other end of the hall, and I sniffled, my voice cracking as I called out, “Peter?”

I felt pain in the side of my head, and I reached up to be reminded of the broken strands of hair that were now hanging sadly to the side. I sobbed again.

I didn’t hear a response, so I called out again, “Peter?”

Peter didn’t round the corner. Bucky did. I wiped my tears, knowing that I looked like a mess, and attempted to force a smile at him.

He frowned, running his hand through his own wet hair. “Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, reaching out to me.

I immediately felt the lump in my throat grow as tears began streaming down my face again. I didn’t trust my words, so I just shook my head, looking at the ground.

“Do you want me to find Peter?” He asked gently, resting his hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, swallowing hard and trying to find my words. “Please,” I whispered.

He nodded, stepping forward to wrap me in a hug. I cried into his shoulder. It did give me a sense of comfort to be with anyone at this point. I knew I was just so over exhausted that my feelings were all messed up, but I knew I really needed Peter.

Bucky rubbed my back, trying his best to comfort me before slowly pulling away. “You gonna be okay if I go look for Peter?”

I nodded, wiping my tears again and said, “Thanks, Bucky. You’re the best.”

He smiled sadly, nodding and turned back to the elevator— hopefully in search of Peter. I didn’t care if the whole compound knew how much of a mess I was at this point if it meant he would come find me.

I walked back to my room, and the tears stopped. I felt numb, and exhausted. I left the comb on my nightstand. I couldn’t deal with that now. I turned off my lights and crawled into bed, shivering with pain— physical and emotional.

I’m not sure how long I layed there. It might’ve been five minutes, it might’ve been fifteen, but eventually I heard my door open and close quietly, and soft footsteps entered the room.

I felt the covers lift up, and the bed dipped next to me. I immediately sighed with relief, feeling his arms wrap around me. I could hear his breath shaking, and I pushed him back slightly, trying to see his face in the dark.

“What’s wrong baby?” I whispered, reaching behind me to turn on my lamp. My heart broke when I saw tears on his face, and I could see his expression drop even more when he looked into my swollen eyes.

He grabbed my hands, pulling me close and whispered, “I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to being with you after a mission,” he took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing, “then Bucky found me when I was talking to your dad and he told me you needed me and I kind of lost it. You know that thing that happens when my senses freak out? It was like that but ten times worse.” I nodded feeling tears start to fall again when his voice cracked, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

I shook my head, taking his face in my hands. “It’s okay, Pete, it’s okay. Are you doing okay now?”

He nodded, tucking his face into my hand. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

I nodded, laughing and lifting one of my hands off of his face to find my broken section of hair. “I accidentally took some of my hair out.”

Instead of laughing, his face dropped in concern, and he then reached his own hands out to hold my face, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

I shook my head, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands on my face, “You’re here now, it’s okay.”

He nodded, moving close and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I smiled, and closed my eyes at the soft gesture of affection.

When he pulled away, I opened my eyes and furrowed my eyebrows, realizing I must’ve missed something. “How’d you get my dad to let you up here?” I asked.

He sighed, “After Bucky told us how he found you, then I went into sensory overload, he kinda just sent me off.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t respond.

“I think it hurt him,” Peter said, “hearing how upset you were.”

I nodded, yawning and moving closer to rest my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. I finally felt safe again, and I felt a warm sensation in my chest.

Peter kissed the top of my head, whispering, “Get some sleep, angel.”

I nodded, hesitating for just a second. I knew what I wanted to say, we’d just never said it out loud before. I never knew if it was crossing the line past being just friends, but after today I didn’t care. I needed him to know.

“I love you, Peter.” I whispered, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too.” He answered without hesitation, hugging me back.

I smiled, sitting up to look at him, taking his face in my hands again.

“I love you,” I whispered again, seeing him smile as well.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered back, leaning into my touch.

Without thinking any more, I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. When I pulled away, he was smiling at me with such a look of adoration that I almost teared up again.

I was about to lay back on his chest and go to sleep, but he gently took my face in his hands, returning another soft kiss to my lips. When we pulled away, we both blinked hard, looking at each other with so much love.

Finally, I laid my head back on his chest and we both fell into a deep sleep. It was almost fifteen hours later that I was awaken to my dad bursting into the room, saying, “Just because I was fine with it doesn’t mean you need to sleep together for fifteen hours. Get out Spider-boy.”

[unusonyxx]

the gangs all here ‼️

( I SWEAR ALL OF THESE GUYS HAVE TOTALLY VALID REASONS TO BE HERE)

also sorry for the massive ass tag dump I tried to include everyone lmao

[nickeverdeen]

Across the Miles | Peter Parker x fem!reader

Pairings: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Type of fic: Romance, Long-Distance, Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: While Peter’s in Germany you two call at night for a small talk

Tag List: @callsignwidow

———————

Peter Parker lay on the bed in his Berlin hotel room, the dull hum of the city outside barely audible through the thick walls. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, but the screen of his phone shone brightly as he stared at it, a wide grin on his face.

On the other side of the call, miles away back in Queens, you were lying in your bed, wrapped up in your blankets, a tired but happy smile mirroring Peter’s.

“I can’t believe you’re in Germany,” you said, your voice soft and slightly sleepy. “It’s so weird to think about.”

“I know,” Peter replied, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. “It still feels kinda surreal. I mean, I’m here with Mr. Stark and… it’s just crazy.”

You chuckled, feeling a little warmth in your chest as you watched Peter’s face light up. He was trying so hard to sound casual, but you knew how much this meant to him. “You deserve it, Peter. You’ve been doing such a good job back home—saving people, keeping the city safe. You’re gonna do great out there, too.”

Peter’s grin softened into something more tender as he looked at you. “Thanks. I just… I miss you, though. It’s weird not having you around.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of the same longing. “I miss you, too. But hey, it’s just a few days, right? And then you’ll be back, and we can hang out like normal.”

Peter was about to respond when a loud knock sounded on his door, followed by Happy Hogan’s voice. “Parker! Wrap it up, you need to get some sleep.”

Peter groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Just a minute, Happy!” he called back, clearly not ready to end the call.

You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. “You should probably listen to him, Pete.”

Peter shook his head, stubborn as ever. “Nah, I’m good. I’d rather talk to you.”

You smiled, touched by his words. “Okay, but you need to get some rest. You have important superhero stuff to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter mumbled, leaning back against the headboard, still not making any move to hang up. “I’m not tired yet.”

You stifled a yawn, starting to feel the day catching up to you. “Sure you’re not,” you teased gently.

Peter watched you with fond eyes as your eyelids began to droop. “You should get some sleep,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection.

“I will… in a minute,” you replied, but your words were slurring slightly as sleep began to overtake you.

Peter stayed quiet for a moment, just watching you, his heart swelling with affection. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this, even if they were separated by thousands of miles. You were still here, still with him.

Eventually, your breathing evened out, and Peter realized you had fallen asleep. He couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful you looked.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, not wanting to wake you. With a heavy but content sigh, he carefully ended the call, placing his phone on the nightstand.

He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, the reality of his situation sinking in. He was in Germany, about to do something incredible, but all he could think about was how much he wished you were here with him.

As sleep finally began to claim him, Peter’s last thoughts were of you, and how soon enough, he’d be back home—back to where you were, where he belonged.

And with that comforting thought, Peter drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the day he’d see you again.

[peter-parkers-left-pinky]

Tony: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire??

Peter: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Y/n: Why were you microwaving a lemon???

Peter: I read boiling lemons helps cover up up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots.

Natasha: Did you burn an orange too? How???

Peter: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

[bittenbyyou]

Inferior Flames (1)

MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, lil cute moments

description: Your father wants you to knock Peter down a peg. OR Peter is bitter because you’re an Avenger and he’s not.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: Tony Stark being your father is already a warning as to how ridiculous he could be lol, mentions of Spider-Man: Homecoming, references from Captain America: Civil War, idk where this would fit in the MCU timeline per se b/c I’ve only recently started watching all the Marvel movies. 

a/n: maybe it’ll be a series? idk, if you like it, lemme know!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Firefly, I need a favor.” Your father plopped onto the couch next to you, so you paused your show with the TV remote.

“What is it?” you asked, turning your body to give him your undivided attention.

“You know Spiderling, Spider-Boy?”

“Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Yes. How do you still not know his name?”

“My names are better.”

“Uh huh. Wait, he’s the one that rejected your proposal to become an Avenger.” You nudged him with your elbow, flashing a smirk.

“No, no. I don’t do rejection.”

“But he did turn you down.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate his frustration. “Sure. Whatever. Anyway, the kid wants to be an Avenger now. Been texting Happy nonstop about when’s the next mission and he’s wanting to see me tomorrow.”

You blinked twice and stayed quiet, a blank stare on your face as to why this was an issue. When he didn’t say anything, you gestured for him to elaborate.

“I don’t think he’s ready,” he added, crossing one arm over the other.

“You’re serious? Dad, you’ve never shut up about him ever since you gave him the suit. Even when I was abroad, I’ve seen what he can do. He’s amazing. You wanted him to be an Avenger.”

“I’m aware. But he said no and now… the ball is in my court.” The shit-eating grin on his face was soon replaced with a chuckle that sounded almost sinister.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, he turned me down and now he wants me back. God, I’m making him sound like an ex-girlfriend.” He shivered in disgust and you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I get to turn him down now. It’s great.”

“So you’re turning him down because he turned you down first. Petty much?”

“Hey, that is not what’s going on here.” He turned his attention to the paused TV screen instead of meeting your judgmental gaze.

“Dad, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re really letting your pride stop you from recruiting someone as amazing as Spider-Man? Let Peter join.”

“What, are you in love with him or something? You think he’s so amazing?” he asked while doing jazz hands at the word “amazing.”

You wouldn’t call it love; it was more along the lines of admiration. During your time abroad, your father filled you in on all his adventures and antics so if anything, it was his fault as to why you were somewhat enamored with Spider-Man. Deep down, you knew your father adored Peter, so it was only natural you did too.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“You can’t date anyone until you’re 21.”

“I’m telling Mom you’re being ridiculous.”

“I already told your mom and we’ve already established that I’m ridiculous,” he said proudly, as if it was a badge of honor.

“You told me you were proud of his decision to lay low.”

“I am. I was. But now the tables have turned and what kind of person would I be if I let him in so easily? The others think I’m crazy recruiting a 15 year old.”

“16 now actually,” you corrected.

“God, this is like deja-vu.”

You giggled. “I’m the same age as him and you’ve been wanting me to join too.”

“Don’t remind me. You were the first person to ever turn me down and I’m still recovering. I’m waiting for you to crawl back and beg me, saying ‘Dad, please! Let me be an Avenger!’ Like the kid is doing now,” he said, using a high-pitched voice when he was imitating you.

“Good luck with that. I have no interest in being an Avenger.”

“See,” he said, pointing his index finger at you, “that right there is why I need your help.”

You crossed your arms in the same way he did, skeptical of where he was going with this. “Go on.”

“I want you to pretend to be another recruit who wants to be an Avenger. I’ll tell him there’s only one position and make him work for it.”

“Dad…” you said sternly.

“What? He doesn’t know you’re my daughter. And I’m trying to protect him too. The kid’s been going off doing things on his own and not thinking clearly. He can wait on becoming an Avenger.”

“He stopped Vulture. He kept looking for those weapons when no one else would.”

“He’s reckless.”

“You’re using me to make him jealous.”

“A little,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also looking out for him.”

“Uh huh.”

“He’s coming here tomorrow and I want you to battle him. If he beats you, he’ll get to join.”

“This is so stupid.”

“It’s genius, really.”

“You’re making a kid fight for something that you already want to give him.”

“No. Not yet.”

“You know he can’t beat me.”

Your father leaned in and pecked you on the forehead. “Exactly. Him losing will help him work harder to be better. This’ll give him that push he really needs. So will you help me?”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to fight Peter Parker and make sure he loses just so he doesn’t get to become an Avenger even though deep down, you want him to be one?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s the stupidest idea ever. And it’ll hurt his feelings.”

“No, it’ll build character. He needs to understand it’s not that simple. You can’t ask to become an Avenger and get it.”

“... But he can… because that’s what you wanted in the first place.”

“He turned me down so it’s only fair that he proves to me how much he wants it. Like a test. I’m testing him.”

“No. Dad, I’m not doing that.”

“I’ll enroll you in school right now instead of waiting for the following year.”

You sighed, contemplating his ridiculous proposition. He had adopted you when you were 10 on one of his missions overseas and has kept you a secret from the public. As much as it pained him, he could not bring you home right away because you required guidance on using your powers responsibly. You had to remain abroad for a while longer until the adoption forms went through and your mentors felt you were ready to leave the tiny village where you resided.

However, he and his wife Pepper, kept in touch and always checked in. He showed up every birthday and made it his mission to be a part of your life. Now that you were in high school and your powers were restored, he flew you into New York City right away.

It’s been a few months since your transition and you absolutely loved it. The Avengers who resided in the compound were very welcoming and so far, they were the only ones who knew of your existence along with your mom. Your father had yet to announce your identity to the world because he didn’t want the spotlight to overwhelm you. Originally he planned on having you relax a bit and then enroll you in public school next year, but going earlier was enticing to you.

“... Which school?”

“Spider-Man’s.”

“... Fine.”

“You do have a crush on him.”

“Shut up, Dad.”

The next day…

Upon entering the foyer of the Avengers Compound, Happy led Peter to where Stark was. The man stood in the middle of the main entrance hall, sporting a classy suit and sunglasses. Peter clenched his fists in determination, carefully reciting the words he wanted to say in his head since the car ride over.

“Hey kid. What do you want?”

“Mr. Stark,” he squeaked. He shut his eyes in humiliation, clearing his throat and lowering his voice a bit to sound more confident. Once his eyes fluttered open, he puffed out his chest and said, “I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind,” Stark deadpanned.

“Yes. I want to be an Avenger.”

“You understand why I’m skeptical.”

“Um… yes, but—”

“Look, you turned me down last time and am I used to rejection?” Peter opened his mouth to answer but was immediately cut off. “The answer’s no, but I respected your decision. All that talk about looking out of the little guy—great—so what changed?”

“I’m ready for more than that now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America,” Peter argued.

“Trust me, kid. If Cap wanted to lay you out, he would’ve.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the realization that he got off easy, questioning his entire existence.

Stark pressed his palms together and pointed at him. “You really want to be an Avenger?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. “See, here’s the thing: there’s someone else.”

Peter’s face fell, heartbroken at the thought of being replaced. “What—What do you mean there’s someone else?”

“Well, after you turned me down, I recruited someone else. If you really want to be an Avenger, prove to me you’re better than her.”

“Wait, her?”

“Yeah. You think you got what it takes?”

“Well it’s rude to attack a lady—”

“No. Gender equality’s a thing, right? You beat her up, she beats you up. You both end up in casts—”

“Casts?!”

“Suit up and let’s go.”

With no other choice, Peter obeyed and did what he was told. His thoughts were racing at the thought of battling someone to prove his worth. But this was his dream and he had to get out of his own head. After he finished suiting up, Happy led Tony and him to the outdoor training area that featured a wide-opened space with reinforced surfaces.

It had strategically placed obstacles to encourage agility and tactical thinking during battles. Additionally, the area incorporated holographic projectors to create any virtual landscapes to simulate specific scenarios for the Avengers to train in.

And that was where Peter’s eyes landed on a figure in the distance. You, who was practicing your combat skills with a large kung fu spear. The way you moved was calculated, graceful, like a beautiful yet deadly dance. You performed many high kicks and flips, mesmerizing Peter as your hands maneuvered the spear so flawlessly around your body. Your father and Happy watched you, proud smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“That’s who you’ll be battling today,” Stark said, clapping his hands together once to catch your attention. You stopped what you were doing and landed in a perfect split with the spear parallel to your body, noticing your father and Happy’s presence. You got up and rushed over, your eyes quickly finding its way to the boy in the iconic red and blue costume.

“Hi D-... Mr. Stark. Happy.” You turned to Peter, loving the fact that he didn’t have his mask on yet so you could finally meet him as him. He was far cuter in person, you weren’t going to deny that. “I’m [Y/N].”

Your dad wanted this “test” to be authentic, so you couldn't tell Peter you were, in fact, a Stark. Plus you didn’t look like a Stark anyway, with you being adopted and all. It’d be a cinch.

“P-Parker, Peter. Parker Peter—I mean, Peter Parker,” Peter said softly, shaking your hand. God, you were so pretty that it made him a fumbling mess. He wondered if you two were the same age.

“Great. Now that both you kiddos are here, you both know what you have to do, right?”

You and Peter looked at each other and exchanged awkward smiles. “Mr. Stark, I’m not comfortable battling a… um…”

“Girl?” you finished. “I’d be more worried about yourself, darling.”

The way the word “darling” rolled off your tongue caused Peter’s face to redden like a cherry.

“I’m not saying girls can’t battle, I’m just saying I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Are you going to hold back if the enemy is a woman?”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but to no avail.

“You said you wanted to be an Avenger. There’s only one position available, so we’re going to be testing you both. Happy will launch the simulation sequence and then you two will be fighting one-on-one,” your father explained.

“Good luck,” Happy said, trying hard not to laugh. The two men walked a safe distance away where they could observe you both.

“What’s the simulation sequence?” Peter called out before putting on his mask.

“We’re going to be launching drones at you,” Stark called back from afar with cupped hands.

“Drones?!”

“Yeah, we want to see how much you’ve improved!”

“In 3, 2, 1!” Happy shouted as he pushed some buttons on his phone.

You and Peter both stared up at the sky as a swarm of drones lined up in a similar fashion as the game Space Invaders.

“May the best Avenger win,” you said, sending him a wink. He laughed nervously as you immediately launched yourself in the sky. Peter gasped in awe.

“She can fly?!”

Hovering in front of the drones, you closed your eyes and pressed your index and middle fingers together, forming a "V" shape. Bringing the fingers perpendicular to your forehead, it felt as if you were beckoning an unseen force. With unwavering focus, you opened your eyes, and the spear you held multiplied tenfold, floating effortlessly beside you. Extending your arm forward, you pointed confidently at the drones, issuing a resolute command for the spears to launch their attack. Explosions scattered throughout the sky as you managed to wipe out half the drones with one attack.

“And she can multiply things. Great,” Peter huffed, launching a web at one of the drones to join you.

“She’s going to destroy him,” your father said, chuckling to himself.

“Kid, come back. Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Peter shook his head while removing his mask, muttering self-deprecating thoughts to himself at his performance. You watched as he walked away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Did I go overboard?” you asked, a tinge of guilt eating away at your conscience. Your father chuckled and waved off your concern with a flick of the wrist.

“No, you did great. He’ll be fine.” He went after Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going any further. “Hey. You put up a good fight.”

Peter spun around, exasperated and using his hands to express his frustration. “I lost. There was no way I was going to win. She can fly, she can multiply things, she can use telekinesis, she can breathe fire—is she part dragon? How was I supposed to compete with that?!”

You saw him pointing at you from afar, giving him a small smile but was only reciprocated with a frown.

Tony put on a contemplating face. “Is she part dragon…?” he mumbled. “Anyway, I told you that I had to find someone else after you said no. And she’s earned her place. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you lost fair and square.”

“But—”

“No buts. You aren’t ready. So lay low, be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and work your way up. Go to school, focus on classes, and finish that homework you’ve been putting off.”

“I don’t need to go to school.”

“Yes. You do. Even she goes to school,” Stark said, pointing over in your direction.

You went over to where Happy was, your eyes still glued on your father and Peter. “Happy, he looks so heartbroken.”

“I know. But it’s for the best. Kid’s too eager and knocking him down a peg might do him some good.”

“I feel bad.”

He patted your back and gave you a reassuring smile. “He will be okay. Your father appreciates your help.”

You immediately straightened your posture when you saw Peter come over with your father.

“Anything you want to say to [Y/N]?” your father asked, giving Peter a gentle nudge from behind.

“Congratulations,” Peter said, mustering up as much strength as he could to give you a smile. Because he really was happy for you, but it hurt for him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and the pitiful gaze in yours wasn’t helping.

“Thanks. You did really well.”

“Yeah, but I have all the bruises,” he joked, pointing at his face in a circular motion. You took a step forward and placed your palm out in front of his face.

“May I?”

His eyes widened in confusion, but he nodded anyway. An ember glow emitted from your hand and all his bruises healed in a matter of seconds.

“You can heal people too? What on earth can’t you do?” Peter was both fascinated but also very annoyed at your perfection.

“I can only heal minor bruises,” you said quickly.

“Of course,” he muttered.

“Happy, take him home for me.”

“Got it. Come on, Peter.”

“Bye Peter,” you said, giving him a shy wave. He only gave you another meek smile before walking away. You glared at your father, who only let out a sigh of relief.

“Great job, kiddo.”

The next day at school Ned practically crashed into Peter, who was at his locker minding his own business.

“Dude, dude, dude!”

“Whoa, what is it, Ned?!” Peter said, a hand on his chest from the sudden heart attack that was his best friend.

“There’s a new girl and she’s so cute. Have you seen her yet?”

Peter closed his locker shut, wracking his brain for a moment when he saw an unfamiliar face today. “No, I haven’t. What’s her name?”

“Uh… I can’t remember. Was it [wrong name]? Or maybe [another wrong name]?”

Peter looked down the hall and somehow amongst a cluster of students, he spotted you walking towards him. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes somehow went straight to you and only you. Irritation overcame him as he remembered the battle from yesterday. How you beat him so effortlessly, so ridiculously cool and being all perfect. And now you’re at his school? What, were you mocking him?

“Ned,” Peter said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Is that her?” He pointed at you and nodded his head in your direction.

Ned looked over in your direction and snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That’s her.”

“Dude, that’s the girl,” Peter muttered.

“Huh? What girl?”

He thought about how he sulked on the apartment balcony, venting to Ned about you. “The… girl… remember what I told you over the phone yesterday?”

It took a few seconds, but Ned’s brain finally clicked. “She’s the one that beat you? Her? Oh my god, you didn’t mention how cute she was!”

“Will you keep your voice down? She’s coming this way!” Peter opened his locker again and hid his face behind it. Ned shook his head in disapproval.

“Are you embarrassed? Come on. Challenge her again.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“No, dude, stop. You aren’t supposed to know about her. Mr. Stark will kill me.”

“But she goes to our school.”

Peter hid his face in his locker until you finally passed. He let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. That was, until Ned shouted out, “Hey! New girl!”

You stopped at the familiar label people were referring to you as. Once you turned around, you saw Ned’s huge smile while Peter still cowered in his locker. The boy you were walking with scoffed at Ned’s boldness.

“You don’t need to engage with them. They’re nobodies.”

“That’s not very nice, Flash,” you said, frowning at his poor choice of words.

“If we’re nobodies, why is she friends with Peter then, huh?” Ned exclaimed loudly. If a black hole could open up and swallow Peter whole, now would be the time.

“What, you know Penis Parker?” Flash asked you, incredulous at the new information. Peter carefully pulled his head out of his locker enough to take a tiny peek at you. He wondered what you were going to say.

“Yeah. I know Peter, Flaccid Flash,” you replied, bumping into his shoulder deliberately as you made your way over to Peter and Ned. The entire hallway filled with laughter at your stinging remark.

“Hi. I’m [Y/N]. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over?”

Peter looked at your extended hand as if it was a foreign object, standing still as a statue. When his brain finally registered what you said, Ned had beat him to it, shaking your hand so fast like he was in the presence of royalty. “We would love to start over. I’m Ned. Peter’s best friend.”

You let out a laugh. “Hi Ned. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Without thinking, Peter grabbed your other hand. “Come with me.”

You didn’t have time to react and he led you to the nearest empty classroom, thankful class hadn’t started yet.

“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, letting go of your hand. You leaned against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.

“I go to school here now?”

“But why here?”

“Because… it’s a nice school?”

Peter placed a hand on his forehead, his jaw clenched as he thought of what to say next without sounding like an ass. “Look, you beat me and you’re an Avenger fair and square. I’m happy for you, really.” His words became soft and broken towards the end. “But seeing you reminds me that Mr. Stark will never be impressed with me. So can you give me space?”

His voice was frail but sincere. You got off the wall and gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

Before Peter could leave, you asked him one last question. “Sorry, but could you tell me where gym class is? I have it first period.”

It took everything in Peter not to curse out loud. He had to fight back his bitterness and said through gritted teeth. “Yeah. I have it first period too.”

You smiled to yourself, trailing closely behind him as he led you both to your first class. Together.

Reblogs and thoughts are appreciated! Thank you!

Update: I might be in the middle of writing a part 2. :) Your support means a lot!

[linkneol091]

Petermjs and “ I LOVE MY WIFE” template I found on pinterest ( idk the og artist of that one, but I’d like to)

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

1.4k.

Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.

[webslingingslasher]

I'm dying for there to be a fic where the reader is Stark's daughter and tells Peter that he has to watch her, Peter does it and the more he does it the more they connect the two and end up dating in secret, but one day reader discovers it and then angs to fluff??? Would you do it, i love how you write yes and thank you

*cleaning out my inbox/drafts* this is an old one but i loved it so much mcu peter HAD to make a comeback for this. // a little different than what you asked.

--

you're livid and peter's scared.

your dad had shared a new piece of information in passing but it brought everything crumbling down. peter, your boyfriend, wasn't who you thought he was.

the person you thought was honest and gentle was really just a lying snake. he can wear manipulation well. even now, with wide eyes and a panicked grin you can't picture him hurting you like this. but you can feel it.

'hi, baby.' he knows you're mad, he's trying to approach this calmly.

'you're a fucking liar.' you just brought everything down to a negative level, peter feels his shoulders slump. he doesn't know what he did or how he lied. 'i'm sorry.' whatever he did caused venom to be directed his way and he doesn't like it at all.

'no you're not. you're a filthy, lying scumbag.' he's not trying to invalidate your feelings, but you're being really fucking mean to him and he really doesn't like this treatment from you. he's never been so hurt in his life, the person he loved with everything in him, can't get enough insults out their mouth.

'why are you talking to me like this?' he sounds pitiful and for a moment your heart breaks for him, you know how much you're hurting him right now but he broke your trust.

'my dad told me. i can't believe i fell for your bullshit, or was it all him? you're just some little drone for my daddy?' it was a blur of sarcasm and betrayal, and peter truly has no idea what he's done.

'what did i do? please tell me what i did.' he's pleading, he'd do anything to make it right. you scoff, everything seems so fake.

'my dad planted you into my life and you wormed your way into being my boyfriend.'

peter freezes, his stiff shoulders are your answer. 'it's true?' your voice cracked, the deception has your insides curling. you thought peter would deny it and kiss you a hundred times and tell you he wasn't that type of guy.

but he is and he did it.

'peter, it's true?' why do you want to cry? you were the one that was swindled. it hurts because you trusted him, it hurts because you thought he loved you just as much as you did him.

there's a new feeling, it's rage. you shared so much of yourself with him for nothing, you wasted time on him. you move on your own accord and you push your weight into his shoulders, trying to throw him back, it's useless. he doesn't even budge, but he still lets you try with everything in you.

'you're piece of shit! i... i fucking hate you!' the word has tears pricking your eyes. peter felt his entire heart shatter, he thinks you just told him the worst thing he's ever heard.

'i fucking loved you, peter. you were my everything. i loved you with everything in me, and it was all built on a giant lie. why would you do that to me?'

loved, loved, loved, loved.

peter goes numb, there's nothing to fight for, you didn't love him anymore. you push on his chest, he feels nothing, he moves with your motion. 'fucking say something!'

he blinks, he says the first thing on his mind. the only thing on his mind. 'i love you.' it enrages you even further, does he think it's a joke? 'fuck you, peter.' and with that, you turn to leave his room, his house, him.

peter might've messed up but he can't let you leave without trying to save this. he knows he fucked up. 'wait! don't leave yet, just let me explain it, okay? then you can go back to hating me.' the ending sentence felt like battery acid on his tongue.

you stand still. you’ve been hurt by him but you still love him no matter what you say, and that feels like a kick in the chest to yourself. if he can, you'll let him try and dig himself out of this hole.

'this, what we have, it's real. everything i did as your boyfriend was real. i love you with everything in me, you know i do.' you don't look like you believe it, it looks like you think he's just telling you what you want to hear.

'your dad...' peter doesn't know how he got here, he didn't expect it all to come out. 'look, i've always liked you, okay? you know that, we've talked about how when i first met you i was head over heels for you. your dad knew that too and he hated it. but then you were all sad about your friend so he suggested i just... befriend you.'

'suggested or told?' peter swallows hard, this is tricky even for him. 'i don't know. i just had the opportunity to talk to you and i took it. all your dad did was give me an in, that's it. everything else was all me, i promise.'

you sigh heavily, it sounds like something your dad would do. 'then why wouldn't you tell me this when we started dating?' peter gestures to you and all your fury. 'i didn't want this to happen. i didn't want you to doubt me. us. i didn't want you to doubt us.'

'so he told you to be my friend. nothing else?' peter winces, there's more to it and you're not sure if you want to hear it. 'okay, maybe he said to keep an eye out for you.' your face drops, peter's quick to keep talking. 'but i heard that as befriend! how could i keep you safe if we're not friends, right?'

it's not working, you seem more sad than mad now and peter prefers your anger. 'and when he saw how happy you were with me it changed and he gave me the go ahead to ask you out.' you'll bite your tongue on that one, you know it's because peter's a stickler for a father's blessing.

'when did he back out of the picture, peter?' the question un-eases him, and you have a feeling you know why. you pray it's not what you think, but it is.

'a couple months into dating.' peter jumps to continue, 'he never told me to date you, he just said it was a good thing and he was happy i was keeping you busy and making you happy. he gave me a little money for dates, but that's it, i swear.'

peter was taking money from him?

'so, while i was falling in love with you, my dad was paying you off? nice, peter. that's a real nice guy act.'

peter knows how it sounds, that's why he felt like he couldn't spit it out. the more time went on, the less he felt the need to share. 'that's not what it was, all he wanted was for me to be your friend, i promise. i'm the one that went a step further, i'm the one that wanted to be your boyfriend.'

you roll your eyes, how dumb does he think you are? 'of course you wanted to be my boyfriend, you were getting paid.' you couldn't be further from the truth, peter felt bad taking his money but it was to keep you happy and that's all he ever wanted to do.

he's failing pretty hard right now.

'no, that's not what it was. i was the one that planned everything, everything we built was because of me.'

'right. and he was just sponsoring it?'

peter's never fought harder for anything in his life. you were on the line. 'he pulled out when it started to get real. he said it was on me to take care of you and i did. i have been. i'm not lying, your dad might have put you into my life but every single part of me loving you was real and all me.'

you want to believe him. you want him to be telling the truth. and maybe if it all started because your dad wanted him to look out for you, you could look past it. but for him to double down and start taking money when you were calling him boyfriend makes you feel sick.

peter knows it's not working. 'baby, please-' you cut him off, 'don't you dare call me that, we're done. it's over. hope it was worth it.'

panic fills him, he suddenly feels hot. for a second peter sees black dots, he swears he's about to pass out. 'no, no, no. don't do this, don't do this to me.'

how did peter go from trying to salvage it to ruining it beyond repair?

your arms cross over your chest, it's a way to guard your hurting heart. it's not fair. you gave him so much of yourself just to learn it was all built on a lie, you can't choose between breaking out into a sob or wanting to punch his face.

'i really loved you, peter.'

'you still do. i know you do. you can't just stop loving me out of nowhere. i know i hurt you and i know i broke your trust but you can't stop loving me.'

you feel empty inside. peter was right, he hurt you. he hurt you big time. 'i'm going to try.' you can see how wet his eyes are, if he drops a single tear you'll go back on every word of yours. you have to leave and stand up for yourself because if you don't it'll be proof that he can treat you however he wants.

'please don't do this. i'll do anything, i'll... i'll...' he's drawing blanks, for the first time ever peter doesn't know how to fix anything. 'please don't leave me. i'll be better, i'll be who you need. i love you so much, please don't do this to me.' peter's grasping at straws and you feel your chest rattle when you tell him you're leaving.

peter drops to his knees, he's begging. 'i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. i should've told you when we first started dating- no! i should've never done it, i should've told your dad to... to fuck off and, and, i'm so sorry! please don't break up with me, please.'

you've lost all edge, you feel just as broken.

'goodbye, peter.'

----

it's been three days of reckoning and you're in a terrible mood. the blame has shifted, after you dumped peter and returned home to your bed you thought long and hard about it and realized that peter would've never done it if your dad didn't get involved.

if your dad didn't drop peter in as an informant, you wouldn't be here. if your dad didn't tell peter to buddy up with you, he'd still be your boyfriend.

you don't hate peter anymore, you're just sad. instead, you hate your dad. you hate how he ruined everything you had and ruined all your trust in him. you've refused to speak to him for three days, this morning he had enough of it when you slammed your door in his face.

he promptly allowed himself in and looked around your disheveled room, he knows something's wrong. 'woah. easy on, teen angst. talk to your dad, what's going on?'

you pretend he's not in the room with you. 'is something wrong? do you want me to call your boyfriend?' of course he wants peter over, he wants him to spy on you so your dad can corner him and sweat him out until peter spills.

you know how peter is and your dad took advantage of that.

'i broke up with peter. leave me alone.' there's a ring of silence, your dad is in shock. it would explain the sudden excuses on why peter can't come over, it would also explain your sour attitude.

'why would you do that?' because of him. because your dad had to get involved in your love life. 'because of you. you planted him in my life and paid him off to date me. i hate you.'

'is that what he told you?'

you don't know why you're talking to him. 'basically.' your dad sighs and sits on the edge of your bed, you resist the burning urge to kick his back.

'is this about what i said the other day? honey, i didn't ask him to date you and i didn't pay him off. i paid him when he helped me redo the lab. he must've gotten confused on the reasoning.'

you think about it. the lab was renovated right around the time you started dating and was finished right around when you became official. and peter did the brunt of heavy lifting and furniture shifting. he even had to reschedule a date because he was going to stay up all night to wrap up all the cords and label them to keep track.

'and for what it's worth, the kid's always liked you. i saw it on his face the second you shook his hand and i told him absolutely not. but the more i thought about it the more i thought why not?'

you're not saying anything but you're holding on to every word he says. 'i got tired of you moping around the place because of that brat you called a friend so i suggested he keep an eye out for you and be a friend if you needed one. honey, i knew what i was doing. i knew what was going to happen.'

peter left a lot of this out. a lot.

'he said you told him it was his job to take care of me now.' your dad laughs. 'yeah, i did. when he came to me shaking and halfway begging to let him be your boyfriend, i told him that he would have to grow a pair and take care of you.'

your dad turns and gives you a light smile, he pats your leg over the blanket. 'i don't think any part of it was a lie, kiddo. i just gave him the greenlight to do what he wanted to do the second he met you.'

tears sting your eyes, you think about how crushed peter looked. you imagine the tear in his heart was far greater than yours. you heard something and made your own assumption and peter can't back himself to save his life so you walked away from it entirely.

you were so mean to him. you belittled him and did the worst possible thing you could do. you told him you hated him. you blink fast to clear your eyes, tears start falling instead. you've been so mad you haven't been able to process what you did but it's hitting now and you feel broken.

'i told him i hated him. i've never said that to him, he was so sad. i was so mean to him, dad. i was calling him names and...' your breath catches, you feel like your throat’s closing up. 'i think i broke his heart.'

you curl up, you want to be left alone, you want to punish yourself. instead your dad tells you to 'get your sorry ass up and go apologize to your boyfriend.' it's a very short pity party.

---

you rushed his front door. you felt like the longer you waited the closer your window closed. you stupidly blocked his number so now you're unaware if he's tried to reach out at all. you're knocking so hard your knuckles hurt.

'oh my good-' you push past may. it's incredibly rude and you'll have to add her to your apology train but the first and most important stop is peter.

'where's-'

peter steps out from his room, he looks at you cautiously and doesn't get halfway through your name before you're running to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. it's a full bodied hug.

'i'm so sorry and i love you. i love you so so much, i love everything about you. i love your voice in the morning, i love how you always give me an extra kiss at night to repel bed bug bites, i love how you never give me shit when i don't bring a jacket to the movies even though i'm gonna steal yours because i always get cold. i love how you always make me a bowl of cereal after we-'

'may.'

'-watch a movie. i love how you grew your hair out because i asked you. i love how you always ask to kiss me first. i love how you love me.' you squeeze him tighter.

'i told you i hated you and that couldn't be further from the truth. i love you so much and i was so mean to you and i just don't want you to think i hate you. i could never hate you, peter. i should've never said that, i can love you and be mad at you at the same time.'

peter quietly shushes you, it settles the bubble of anxiety in your chest. he's calming you down, he's doing what he always does when you're inches away from a panic attack. peter gently pulls at your hands around his neck to move them to his waist, it's instantly more comfortable, you're able to bury yourself into him.

'i don't want to be broken up anymore.' your voice cracks, you don't know what you'll do if he says no. you're spiraling, the consequences of your actions are falling into place. you're going to lose him.

peter pulls you back into reality. he always knows when you're too far gone, you can't imagine life without him anymore. 'calm down for a second, okay? i'm not going anywhere. i'm right here.' he turns his head back to his room, may's doing that thing where she pretends she doesn't see or hear what's going on but she's actually holding on to every word.

'wanna go lay down?' you nod fast and pull away to tug him into his own room, peter swears he sees a frown on his aunt's face. the second he shuts his door you start in on round two, you stop when he cups your face and softly shushes you again.

'please stop panicking.'

'i'll panic until you take me back. i should've never broken up with you, peter. i was yelling at my dad and then he told me what actually happened and we were both wrong and now you hate me.'

peter's eyes are shining, he's getting a little amusement from your distress and you allow it. it's the least you could give him after breaking him down into nothing.

'i told you to stop blocking me when you get mad at me.' you want to hit yourself in the face, you knew you missed out on something. 'never again, i promise. i can't do this again, peter. if i'm about to have a panic attack over something that's a non-issue i'll hate myself forever.'

'you really want to hate someone, don't you?' you seal your mouth closed. he's right, you've been saying it too much. even if he said it with a tilt in his voice you take it seriously.

'since someone is a little reactionary, i'll show you my phone.' peter paws at his back pocket before you have his phone in your hands, sure enough there's five missed messages.

the first one was an hour after you dumped him.

'upon further consideration, i reject our break up. you promised me that you'd never break up with me in the heat of an argument. not after the charity auction thing.'

'therefore, we are not broken up until you come over and do it at a later time.'

'love- your boyfriend <3'

'ps. even though you blocked me, i know you don't hate me.'

'you're just mad and you're soooo gonna regret that later.'

peter's right, you do regret it. your eyes are glossy when you reread the texts over and over, even at your worst he loves you. 'so, you're still my boyfriend?'

soft pokes are placed at your sides, you squirm with his touch. 'duh. i just stayed away until you figured it out.' you pout at him, your attack deemed unjustified.

'he wasn't paying you to take me on dates. he was paying you for renovating the lab. that's why the payments stopped after we started dating.'

peter never took money from your dad and your dad never employed peter. he nods slowly. 'oh, yeah, that would make a lot of sense.' you reach forward for another hug and speak into his chest.

'i'm sorry for being mean and trying to break up with you.'

'it's okay, baby.' you melt at a kiss on your hairline. 'you didn't mean it.'

'i promise i didn't.' you feel like a dog with a tail between their legs, there's not enough ways to say how sorry you are. 'i love you, petey.'

another kiss. 'i love you, too.'

he feels so warm, he feels like home. for the first time in three days you feel comfortable, you press into your boyfriend and he doesn't budge. you love how sturdy he is, you love how you can nearly hurt him with your love.

you squeeze him hard, using all your force and almost shaking you're holding him to you so tightly. when you start limiting his breathing, peter pushes down on your elbows.

'you're about to cuteness aggression me to death.'

'i love you.' you can't say it enough.

peter laughs, 'i love you.'

'no,' you peer up at him, it's been days since you kissed him. 'i really love you.' it's whispered, peter's lips twitch at your blown pupils. you almost purr when he cups your face. 'i know you do.'

peter knows that look. he's the one that created it. 'do you want me to-'

'yes.' you waste no time, pushing up and attacking his mouth with your own. you don't know why it's so harsh, you don't know why you're desperate to swallow him and show him how much you missed him, how much you need him. you want to prove how sorry you are.

'lock your door.' peter's eyes sparkle, that means one thing. he takes off so fast his socks slip on his floor and he catches himself on the wall, his lock flicked in seconds.

peter tugs at the back of his shirt, 'naked kisses?' you bite your lip and nod, 'i could go for a bowl of cereal.' 

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

Tony, about Clint's kids: How do you keep them from running away when you take them out of the house?

Clint: They like me. They don't want to run away.

Tony: Really?

Clint: Has Peter ran away before?

Peter: Yes. I make him wear one of those toddler backpacks that have a leash attached to them.

Clint: Isn't he seventeen?

Tony: Irrelevant.

inspired by this post by @incorrecthomer

[spider-stark]

Anti-Hero // Hero x Villain Trope // pt. 2 //

Previous Part

Summary - Reader and Peter are both living double lives. Spider-Man is considered a national hero, while the reader is viewed as a criminal. In their personal lives, they're both head over heels for one another, their friendship finally blossoming into something more. But as vigilantes? It's complicated

Warnings - Blood, mentions of kidnapping/abuse, knife violence,

Word Count - 4.6k

Your foot bounced against the footrest of the barstool you were sat in, your patience wearing thinner and thinner with each passing minute. Another glance at your phone as it laid face up on the counter, confirming that it had now been twenty-five minutes past when you and Peter were supposed to meet. 

Five more minutes, you told yourself, only five. 

Peter Pan’s doorbell chimed as soon as the thought crossed your mind, as if Peter knew that you were getting painfully close to assuming that he had ditched you. 

“Y/n!” He sounded like he had run several blocks just to get here, gasping for breath as he jogged over to where you sat. Your foot stilled at the sight of him, the anxiety of being stood-up immediately dissipating. 

He slid onto the stool beside you, still struggling to steady his breathing. You grinned at him, and the sight only made his lungs feel tighter. “You’re late, Parker.” 

A knowing tone, yet so light and playful, and it somehow held the power to wash away all the defeats he had faced today. It was one of the things Peter loved most about you, the way that you could melt all of his stress away, without even lifting a finger. 

“I’m sorry.” He choked the apology out between labored breaths, his body finally settling enough to let him try to speak. 

While Peter hadn’t run several blocks to get here, he did frantically swing a few dozen blocks, his muscles screaming out in pain the entire time. He was thankful that the annoying girl from earlier had been telling the truth when she said he would recover from the toxin, but he only managed to regain control over his motor skills with enough time to change clothes and come straight to Peter Pan’s to meet you. 

She also could have mentioned that he would feel like he got hit by a bus afterwards. 

“I started to think you were standing me up.” You admitted. 

“Never!” Peter blurted the word out, squinting slightly under the fluorescent lights that only added to the pounding in his head. “Today just felt kind of… paralyzing, I guess.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own pun, knowing it would fly right over your head. “Had a hard time getting myself moving.” 

Concern suddenly washed over your features, brows pulling together. “Do you feel sick or something?” 

You didn’t wait for his answer, leaning forwards on your stool and placing the back of your hand against his forehead. The sudden contact had a blush creeping up his neck, his face beginning to turn red. “You do feel a bit warm.” You hummed with a frown. “You should’ve texted me if you didn’t feel good, we could’ve rescheduled.” 

“No!” Another too-quick response, only deepening the crimson shade now painting his cheeks.“I feel great, promise.” He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to sound a little less, well, excitable. “Just a rough day, ya know? Nothing worth rescheduling over! But I’m still really sorry that I’m late.” 

Peter already wanted nothing more than to throw that sorry criminal in jail, if not for being a thief than for attempting to ruin his plans with you. God, they knew just how to get under his skin. He tried to shake the thoughts of them from his mind, wanting to focus entirely on you, his mind free of irritating distractions. 

Today might have kicked his ass, but there was no way he would miss out on coming to see you. He struggled to make time for ‘Peter Parker’ things while managing to balance his duties as Spider-Man, but when it came to you? He would gladly shove Spider-Man to the side when possible. 

“I get it.” You reassured him, a soft smile that had his heart melting. “My day wasn’t that great either, but that’s just how it goes sometimes, yeah?” 

It really hasn't been a great day for you. Getting away from Spider-Man was the only thing that had gone right today. The job you were on earlier when Spidey had caught up to you ended up being a total bust after faulty intel led to your target getting away before you could even make a move. It threw things off for you—left you without a profit and forced you to evaluate your sources. 

“Well,” you cleared the brief silence between the two of you, “do you wanna get started?” 

Peter only stared at you, those beautiful brown eyes filled with little other than complete confusion as his mind lagged behind. You giggled at how dumbfounded he looked, and while he was slightly embarrassed, he also savored the sound of your laugh. 

“On studying.” You clarified with your index finger tapping against the garishly colored chemistry textbook laid on the counter. “Our test is next week and I really don’t wanna fail Mr. Harrington’s class.” 

Peter’s mouth formed a perfect O shape, his head nodding along as you reminded him of the reason why the two of you were meeting up today. Truth be told, he had been purposely letting himself forget about the ‘study’ part of your study date. 

“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head a bit, keeping his gaze focused on the coffee-stained countertop in hopes that you wouldn’t see that he was still blushing. “Sorry, I’m still not all here yet.” 

“We can still reschedule, ya know? If you’re just not feeling up to this right now.” You hesitantly reminded him, silently hoping that he would say no, that he would insist that he stay. It had been days since the two of you made these plans, and you had been looking forward to spending time with him. 

“No, really, I’m fine!” Peter answered your silent pleading, adding a smile. “I think we need to be on page 279.” 

You nodded in response, returning the expression before moving to flick through the pages of the book. 

To be honest, Peter really couldn’t comprehend why you needed his help to pass Harrington’s class. In nearly every other subject you were at the top of your class, serving as one of his biggest academic competitors at Midtown. What he didn’t know, however, was that the only reason you needed his help was because of certain distractions in class. 

Chemistry was the only class the two of you had together, and unfortunately that meant that the majority of it was spent with you staring at the back of Peter’s head and barely listening to a word Mr. Harrington said (too busy daydreaming about what it would be like to run your fingers through his gorgeous wavy hair). Your little crush had ultimately led to you just barely passing the class, which had turned out to be quite convenient, as it served as an excuse to ask Peter for help and get the chance to hangout with him outside of school. 

“Oh c’monnn.” You groaned as you examined the page, immediately filled with dread when you read scientific notation printed in big bold letters. 

“I promise it’s really not that hard!” Peter tried to assure you, hiding his amusement at your dramatic reaction as you pressed your forehead against the book, little sounds of protests still falling from your mouth. “You’ve got this, mkay? I’ve got full faith in you.” 

“As sweet as that is, Parker,” your close proximity to the paper muffled your speech as you refused to face him, “math is actually my arch-nemesis. I’m horrible at it.” 

Besides Spider-Man, you jokingly thought to yourself. 

“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds though!” Peter continued to make promises that did little to ease your dread. “Let’s just give it a try.” 

You turned your head to the side just a bit, cheek still flush against the book as you looked over at him from the corner of your eye. “Do I even need to know how to do this? Like, if I don’t pursue a career in chemistry, will I ever need to actually understand scientific notation?” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

“Give me an example.” 

“I don’t know, what if you wanna figure out how many drops of water are in a river? You’d need scientific notation.” 

You furrowed your brows at him, although still amused by the response. “Why would I ever wanna know that?” 

Peter’s shoulders lifted into a shrug, an action he swiftly regretted as a burning pain coursed through his forearm, a reminder of the wound he sustained earlier that hadn’t quite healed yet. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Whoa.” You quickly straighten your posture, staring at him cautiously. “Are you good?” 

He forced out a quiet mhm sound as he bit down on the inside of his cheek, desperately hoping the feeling would subside. Peter wasn’t used to his healing abilities being so impaired, yet another side effect of the toxin, and he had forgotten just how much it hurt to be injured. 

“Are you sure?” You asked again, clearly not convinced by his less-than-impressive attempt at hiding his discomfort. “Is it your shoulder or back or something?” 

Peter felt your hand coming towards him, his Spider-senses snapping him out of his current agony as you hovered just inches above the covered wound. He reached out and grabbed your wrist so suddenly that it made you gasp, shocked by how fast he had moved. 

“Sorry.” He apologized, immediately loosening his grip. Your eyes remained wide, the shock still evident alongside a bit of suspicion. “I think I pulled something in my shoulder the other day and it’s still sorta tender to touch, ya know?” 

He already felt guilty for the lie, but it was the best he could come up with to ensure you wouldn’t try to reach for him again. Coming up with lies was already difficult for him, and he had no clue how he’d be able to craft a story for how he ended up with a giant slice taken out of his arm if you found out. 

“You really have the worst luck, don’t you?” You mused, your hand retreating back to your lap as you spoke. “I still have trouble believing that last week you accidentally ran into that streetlight and gave yourself a black eye!” 

Peter laughed nervously, thinking back to the moment. Funny enough, he hadn’t really been lying about that one. Sure, he had been swinging and not running, but he did hit a streetlight. “What can I say? I’m just not the most coordinated.” He fidgeted in his seat, an action you equated to embarrassment. 

In reality, the action had been fueled by anxiety. There had been too many close calls lately, too many instances where he had to make up an excuse for a bruise or a cut or whatever else, especially with the new girl running around. He was running out of lies to tell, and more than that, he was getting tired of having to lie. 

“Well at least try and be more careful, alright?” You teased him, though your concern for him was still evident. While he might’ve hated lying about his injuries, he did quite enjoy the way you’d dote over him whenever you’d discover a new one, always desperate for your affection in whatever way he could receive it. “If I’m gonna pass chemistry then I’m gonna need my tutor in one piece!” 

Peter grinned, returning your teasing tone, “If you’re gonna pass chemistry then you’re gonna need to learn scientific notation.” 

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout, a low groan following suit. “Fine.” You reached for the book, sliding it closer to the two of you while scooting your stool a bit closer to Peter’s. “But you owe me.” 

“I owe you?” He shot you a bewildered stare, struggling not to laugh. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“I’m the one helping you pass chemistry.” He noted, shifting his index finger from himself to you as he spoke. “So technically wouldn’t you be the one that owes me?”  

“Nope. Pretty sure I was right. You owe me.” You feigned complete seriousness, mocking him by pointing your finger in his direction. 

He decided to play along, electing to ignore the fact that you’re just procrastinating studying. “Okay, fine. So what do I owe you?” 

You paused for a moment, a mischievous look appearing on your face, causing Peter to raise a brow at you. “A date.” You declared confidently, taking advantage of the opportunity. “A real one. No school stuff or anything.” 

Peter felt his heart skip in his chest. 

“Deal.” 

Maybe learning scientific notation was worth it.  

Coming to Queens was a risky move, one that you didn’t like to make often. It was one of two places in the city that you liked to avoid—the other being Hell’s Kitchen—in an attempt to try and avoid running into anyone with devil horns or spiderwebs. 

Luckily, your line of work typically kept you out of the ‘problem’ areas of the city. The majority of your targets were New York's wealthiest, the kind of people that wouldn’t so much as dream of stepping foot outside of Manhattan. 

You much preferred meeting them in their own territory, finding it all the more enjoyable to toy with them in the places where they felt safest. But, sometimes, that just wasn’t a possibility for one reason or another. Despite that, bringing your business into Spider-Man’s self proclaimed home territory was always a dangerous move. 

In this case, though, it was unavoidable. 

For months you had kept a close eye on councilman Rupert Fletcher, a man that many others in your circle had tried to go after, only to fail time after time. At first, you struggled to understand how so many accomplished thieves had somehow been stumped on such a painfully average man. 

Despite Fletcher's status as a councilman, he was of little importance, his wealth being the only thing to put a target on his back. On the surface, he lived a rather average life of a man in his position. 

He owned a sizable penthouse on the Upper East Side that he shared with his wife and their french bulldog. A quick peek at his schedule revealed that his weekdays were typically spent in the office, the deviation being an occasional conference. His weekends were always the same, a trip to the country club in Spring Valley to decompress and unwind. 

There were sizable gaps in his schedule, several windows of time where his apartment was left unoccupied, with his weekend trips to the country club and his wife’s recent trip back to her home country for family matters—essentially meaning that Rupert Fletcher was every thief’s wet dream. Yet, even the craftiest of them all came out empty handed, claiming the man’s home was unusually bare. There was nothing of much importance in it, no safes filled with cash, no lavish jewelry. It was painfully basic, appearing as little more than a model home. Every one that dared to go after him all left the same: empty handed. 

You started to think you hit a dead end with him, after questioning every single person in your circle, desperate to dig up something on him. That is until a tiny girl by the name of Red made an offhand comment, one she clearly thought was of little importance. 

“The best I got out of it was this Dukes of Hazzard keychain,” she flashed a disturbing grin, the street lights illuminating the silver caps on her teeth, “better than nothin, right?” 

It was better than nothing. A lot better. 

While the keychain itself was rather stupid and not something you cared about, there had been a dingy key dangling off of it, a tag attached that read: StorageMart #813. At first you considered the thought that it had belonged to Red, but given the fact that a pristine Bugatti key hung alongside it, you quickly decided that it must’ve been Fletchers. 

That same night, you broke into the office of the StorageMart that night, combing through their records until you found payment receipts for unit 813. It hadn’t shocked you when you saw it was purchased under a different last name: Petrov. You recognized it as his wife’s maiden name, a fact learned through your prior research on him. With confirmation that it was his unit, you wasted no time with swiping a key from the utility office and heading straight for the unit. 

Its contents were a mystery to you, your imagination running wild. What could it be? Diamonds? Gold bars? A Dukes of Hazzard boxset? You weren’t sure, and truthfully, you didn’t care all that much as long as it was something of value. You didn’t know what he was hiding in the unit, but what you did know was that Rupert Fletcher was a bad man, and he deserved to pay for it. 

And discovering what he had worked so hard to keep secret only cemented that fact. 

The first thing you saw was a mattress laid out on the cold cement floor, a tattered blanket with the thickness of a sheet of newspaper spread across it. Beside it was a dingy orange bucket, the scent of what was inside practically overwhelming your senses entirely. You almost considered slamming the door shut, almost decided to cut your losses and get out of there before you emptied the contents of your stomach on the floor and left evidence of your presence. 

But then, you heard it. A faint voice, small and fragile, the words in a language you didn’t know. You didn’t need to understand what she said to know who she was, though, to know that you had finally caught Fletcher in his biggest crime of all. 

A bit of gossip tends to go a long way. It took a bit of work to find out where the women in Fletcher’s wife’s inner circle like to hang out, but it turned out to be well worth the struggle as all of them sat amongst themselves at lunch and chatted about how she had been threatening divorce months prior, and their theories of what he had done to her upon finding out, entirely unaware of the listening ear just a table over. A bit more digging led to gaining even more intel on Fletcher’s past tumultuous relationships, only furthering the suspicions. 

“Ms. Petrov?” You purposely opted to avoid use of her married name, hoping that it would indicate to her that you were there to help, not to cause further harm. 

The woman was emaciated and looked as if she were just days away from death, and you struggled to hide your shock. “I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?” A promise you intended on keeping. 

A huge part of you wanted to take the story public, to take pictures of the unit before he could destroy any evidence she was here and send it straight to the Daily Bugle. Jameson was an asshole, but he was never one to miss out on a good story. But, despite your desire to see Fletcher’s mugshot on the news, you bit your tongue. 

It wasn’t your story to share. And, even if Petrov had wanted to come clean and expose him to the world, men like Fletcher were rarely forced to deal with the consequences of what they’d done. He was too wealthy, too well-known, too powerful. 

Which was exactly why you were back here in Queens, at the same shabby StorageMart you had pulled Fletcher’s wife from just a few days ago. She was safe, staying in a women's shelter upstate, already beginning to plan her trip back home where she would be away from Fletcher for good. There was just one thing she needed before she could make her escape. 

“Thanks Rupey.” You sang over your shoulder, lazily wiping the ruby stained blade against your pants, “It was a pleasure doing business with ya.” 

He coughed a few obscenities in your direction, but made no move towards you as you headed towards the door of unit 813, too weak to move from where he laid on the floor. Everyone liked to put on a good show at the end, run their mouth just enough to make themselves feel like they put up a fight. You usually ignored it. Usually. 

 “How much did you take?” He spat in your direction, your footsteps falling silent as you paused by the door. 

You didn’t like his tone, the arrogance in his voice, his domineering attitude. You were a bit shocked that he had any snide remarks left in him, and even more shocked that he could even form words after you knocked two of his teeth loose. 

“I took what I needed.” You assured him, your own tone calm and collected in comparison to his. “And then some. Gotta make a profit in this business somehow, Rupe.” 

His wife had told you he would be here tonight, promised that he came by every other day just to chuck some food in her direction and try to convince her to reconsider her decision to leave him. Waiting for him was easy, since she said that Fletcher liked to stick to a tight schedule, and incapacitating him was even easier. 

A quick slash to the forehead, just a half an inch above his brows. It was the easiest way to stun someone, there were enough capillaries in the forehead to cause profuse bleeding that would eventually impair their vision, making it even easier to keep control over the situation. Immobilizing him wasn’t hard either, a quick jab to his right leg, maybe two or so inches deep. Deep enough that the average person wouldn’t be able to keep their weight on it without passing out from the pain, but nowhere deep enough that he would bleed out from the wound. 

After that, it was as easy and slipping his phone out of his pocket, forcing him to use touch-ID to get into his bank account (threatening to cut off someone's thumb makes it quite easy to get them to follow instructions) and then transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars to an untraceable bank account you had a friend set up for his wife. Fletcher had been the one to ruin her life and damn near kill her, it was only fair that he was the one to pay for her new one, especially if that was the only justice she’d ever get. 

“They’re gonna find you–” Fletcher swore, his strained voice growing louder as you moved to open the door, “I have cameras set up in here! There’s cameras all over this fucking property! The cops are gonna find you!” 

You gave him a quick glance over your shoulder, your mask still secured over your face, confident that the NYPD would find nothing that could trace back to you. Not any more than they already had, that is. “You’re not gonna tell them shit.” You laughed at him, rolling your eyes, “You think I wasn’t smart enough to hack into your stupid security cameras and duplicate the footage? I have hours of it, Fletcher. Hours of you torturing your wife, keeping her caged up in here like some sort of animal.” He didn’t respond, barely moved a muscle as his face paled. “You tell a single soul what happened here tonight, and I’ll send the footage off to every news station in New York. Got it?” 

You didn’t need to wait for confirmation, aware that men like Fletcher would do anything to avoid bad press. He would make up a story, the same way all of them did. A mugging gone wrong or some stupid lie, anything to paint himself the victim and keep his wrongdoings away from the public. You looked forward, savoring the feeling of the cold Winter air kissing your skin as you let the door slam shut behind you, relaxation washing over you at the thought of finally getting to go home. 

“Do I wanna know what you were doing in there?” 

Well, so much for relaxation. 

You glanced up, immediately noticing Spider-Boy crouched on the unit across from 813. “What are you even doing here?” You asked him, an exasperated groan following after. “Like, seriously, do you have a tracker on me or something? I’m gonna get you one of those little collars with a bell on it, the kind for cats, ya know? That way you at least can’t sneak up on me.” 

Spider-Man narrowed his eyes at you, and your lip curled in response. You didn’t like the way the whites of his mask moved to match his expressions, finding it a bit unnerving. “What were you doing?” He asked again, ignoring your previous sarcastic remarks. 

“Why don’t you go look for yourself?” You jutted your thumb over your shoulder, pointing towards the unit door where Fletcher’s groans of pain should still be faintly heard. “Cause I’m a bit tired from doing your job and all, so I’d rather skip the small talk tonight and head home.” 

He scoffed, still perched atop the building, staring down at you. “Doing my job?” 

You nodded. “Uh, yeah. Did I stutter or something?” 

“How were you doing my job?” He rephrased his question, annoyed by your constant habit of avoidance. 

“Do your own research for once, Spider-Kid.” You told him lazily, shaking your head as you began to continue your walk towards the exit gates of the StorageMart. “Maybe then you’ll realize we aren’t quite as different as you think.” 

The nickname annoyed Peter, but he tried to shake it off, aware that it was just another way you tried to get under his skin and throw him off. He swiftly jumped from the building, landing directly in your path to keep you from leaving. Before his feet even touched the ground you already had a knife drawn, as if you had predicted his movement. 

“While I commend you for wanting to stop me,” you spoke slowly, the tip of your blade pointed at his throat—it was an empty threat, as you knew that you would never strike what would most certainly be a fatal blow against him, although he didn’t know that and chose to keep a safe enough distance. “There’s a man in there that’s in desperate need of medical attention. I suggest you run off to be a hero and get him to a hospital.” 

Peter’s eyes shifted towards the unit, his amplified hearing allowing him to hear Fletcher’s heartbeat from where he stood. You were right; and while he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of death, he needed a hospital, and a fight with you was one he wasn’t confident he would win—not quick enough, at least, to justify leaving a wounded man to suffer. 

“We’re very different.” He promised you, taking a step back to show that he was backing down. To show that he was a hero, that he would prioritize a civilian's life over stroking his own ego by attempting to capture you right now. The two of you were nothing alike—Peter worked to protect this city, locking criminals up and fighting alongside the Avengers. And you? “You’re a villain.” 

You snorted at his dramatic choice of words, still armed and prepared to strike if he made a move towards you. He didn’t, though, taking a few more steps backwards towards Fletcher’s unit.

“Villain’s such a harsh word.” You clicked your tongue, chastising him, making his blood boil as he had to use all the restraint in his body to prevent himself from going after you as you readied yourself to dart for the exit. 

“I prefer anti-hero.”

tag list: @llovergirlll @hpchosen1 @vintageoldfashion