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madameaug · 28 days ago

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Creep

Pairing: Peter Parker x Black Fem Reader

WARNINGS: Description of underage drinking (don't do!!)

When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye

You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry

Peter was late to his morning class, AP Lit. The class that he actually somewhat enjoyed from the series of classes he had this semester. Technically this would be his last semester of high school since he applied to graduate early. Receiving the Tony Stark Foundation Scholarship, he would be having an internship in replacement to the spring semester of highschool.

He didn't have alot of people who would miss him. His best buddy Ned, was still here. But he was recently voted SGA President and Peter could see how busy that was going to keep him. He was spared a humiliating belittlement from his English teacher Mrs. Sparrow, and quietly took his seat in the back. Eyes down to the ground, he almost didn't notice the person sitting in his designated unassigned seat.

You were pretty. Micro twists styled in a half-up half-down style. A soft purple scrunchie holding your hair up. You held the same colored purple pencil in your hand. Notebook open, annotating the assignment for the class period. Peter coming to his senses, that he was staring took the nearest seat. The one beside you to your left. The desk itself was at a diagonal angle, so he was facing the front, but he could look at your side profile without it coming across as weird.

Feeling his lingering gaze, despite his attempt not to stare. You looked at him. Really looked at him. Could you see that he existed? Smiling at him, he could see your lips move but couldn't understand a word you said. The elastic bands of your braces, peeking out of your mouth.

"Huh?"

"I'm Yn, nice to meet you."

Frozen like a deer in headlights. Peter's inner thoughts short circuited. He was seconds away from entering a panic state.

"We're in the same literary group." You continued, not wanting to make him more nervous. A pink flush scattered across his face.

"I'm Peter." He spoke like he finished running a mile.

I wish I was special, you're so fuckin special

Like the whole school could smell the new blood in the water. Everyone attempted to make small talk with you at lunch. Which happened to be the same lunch block Peter had. Not knowing anyone, you asked if you could sit with Peter. Not even able to form the words to verbally agree, he nodded his head.

However that invite seemed to apply to multiple people. Flash Thompson, MJ, and Liz made their way over to the table. Peter sitting on the end farthest away from you. He appeared like an outcast at his own lunch table.

Watching everyone ask you questions, hearing your laugh, hearing your stories. The reason you had moved from your hometown up state to Queens. You had a northerner accent that captivated the group. All of them wanting to hear you pronounce certain words.

But that was just the beginning of all the cool things about you. You were a student athlete, which practically had Flash drooling in the palm of your hands. You were a gynamist by technique, but loved cheer. You shared your plans to try out for the varsity team as a sophomore this weekend.

"Damn girl your resume is already three pages, and you still have two years left." Michelle commented, pointing at you with a celery stick.

"Most of it I wouldn't even be doing if my parents weren't making me. They think I have a real chance at going to an Ivy if I am apart of eight extracurriculars and keep my GPA high." You stated so casually.

"I mean yeah, what more do you have to do. You already have the looks." Flash blurted out. Uncharacteristically of him, causing everyone to blurt out a laugh. Peter himself even let out a laugh.

"Shut up penis parker."

"Somebody sounds jealous." Liz pointed out.

"Perhaps someone didn't get that Tony Stark Scholarship."

Michelle added salt to the injury.

Clenching his fist, Flash was a ticking time bomb. Like someone had just added mentos to his sprite. Cutting him off, you peaked down the lunch table at Peter.

"You got the Tony Stark scholarship?"

Clearing his throat quickly. Peter played off his accomplishment. Like it wasn't winning the academic lottery.

"Congrats! You worked hard for it, you deserve it Peter."

Yours words went straight to his heart. He couldn't ignore the increasing speed of the butterflies in his chest. For the short amount of time that you knew of his existence, you spoke to him with kind authenticity. Something that he hadn't received in years, something he didn't know that he wanted so badly.

"Thanks."

But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doin' here.

The New York skyline was becoming one of Peter's favorite sights. It was oddly peaceful at 2:00 am. The city traffic was background noise to the internally dialogue Peter was having with himself. He paced back in forth.

I'm a loser, Yn wouldn't want anything to do with me

But I'm also Spider-Man, I could be her knight in shining armor

Telling her I'm Spider-Man could jeopardize her safety and May's safety.

His senses perked up from a string of dark grey clouds, coming from the building he was on top of. The smoke wafting through his nostrils, he slipped his mask on before webbing to the side of the building. Crawling down he searched for the fire.

With full force a window Peter was getting ready to crawl over thrusted open. Hiding a few inches above, more smoke funneled out of the apartment.

"I told you not to have the oven that high Yn." A man's voice spoke. But Peter froze at the sound of your name.

"The box said 400 degrees."

You weren't upset at all. Laughing and fanning the beeping smoke detector. A failed attempt at making your grandfather's cinnamon apple cobbler.

"I fear for your future roommates."

Peter on the other side of the wall had a stupid smile on his face. It was nice to hear normalcy for once. Not world-ending threats that he was traveling to space to defeat aliens that could wipe out the world with one snap. Or worrying about balancing the mutually complex lives of Peter Parker and Spider-Man. Part of him wished he could join in on the laughter. Pretend he was normal, that everything would be okay for longer than five minutes.

A few seconds later a firetruck could be heard approaching the apartment building. Peter could see the big truck turning on the block.

"Go on the ledge and tell them everything is fine. It's probably Antonio working this time." Your dad was so calm about the situation. Poor cooking skills, is a trait you seemed to inherit from your mother. So the local firefighter station and it's volunteers were familiar with the failed attempts at your cooking.

Following his instructions. You waved your hands seeing Antonio in his gear getting ready to set up the ladder. Peter like a fly on the wall watched you in your pajamas. A vintage band t shirt from the 2000s and fuzzy pants. Nike slides with white socks and a jumbo bonnet.

"Everything alright up there." Antonio yelled spotting you.

"Yeah! Just a bad attempt at apple cobbler. I'm sorry!" You giggled halfway.

"Turn down the oven next time Yn."

"Told you."

He watched like was a background character. Unimportant. Irrelevant. Obsolete. He needed to get out of here.

I wanna have control. I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.

Anger. Pain. Numb. Those were the three words that Peter could only feel. His encounter with the multiverse villains. The death, murder of his Aunt. The publicized murder of his Aunt. It was pushing him to his breaking point, and he was losing every piece of his humanity.

He stopped holding pack his punches. Letting his grief come out in the broken bones of the criminals he fought. He was having emotional outburst in schools. It took the smallest thing to set him off.

He walked through the hallways, quiet. More quiet that unusual, only a few people knowing about the recent passing his Aunt. Those people being Ned, Liz, and Michelle. And soon enough you were told.

"Have yall noticed a change in Peter? Is everything okay?"

Ned and Michelle looked between each other. They debated on whether they should tell you about what is wrong with Peter. Michelle watched as Ned opened his mouth but cut him off.

"He's just on his period. You know, testerone. Uh hormone imbalance."

"Yeahhhh. He just needs space right now." Ned topped off. Unsure what the two were hiding you didn't push the topic any further. Yet when you two were alone in AP Lit, you were seeing a different Peter.

His eyes were blood shot red, eyes puffy. You could hear the music from his headphones blasting in his ears. Low enough that Mrs. Sparrow wouldn't notice, but sitting right beside him you noticed. His posture was haunched over, his head was almost touching the desk.

Your heart ached seeing Peter like this. Sure he was quiet, but he was rude towards you. Ripping out a piece of paper from your notebook you wrote down two questions.

Are you okay?

Do you want to talk about it?

Discreetly slipping it to Peter. You faced forward to appear that you were listening to the lecture. Peter lifted his head, looking at his elbow to see the piece of paper.

Once you knew he read the note, you looked at Peter. Lending him your favorite pencil. His eyes held a different level of sadness to them. Almost like the light had left his eyes a long time ago.

He scribbled on the paper.

'No'

'No'.

Peter returned the note before standing up and walking out of the classroom. Ignoring Mrs.Sparrow's calls for him to return to class. A seed of guilt planted in your gut, feeling like you set off Peter.

Peter stepped into the apartment for the first time since Aunt May died. He could do 24 hour patrol shifts for so long before his body gave up on him. He was on the hunt for the Norman Osborne, Green Goblin. His quest for vengeance would be filled until he watched the life leave his eyes, like he had to watch Aunt May's.

Taking off the suit Peter showered. His body littered in new and old bruises. His torso resembling one of a dalmation, it was a surprise he could still walk upright. His brown hair sticking to his forehead as the water ran down. Days of sweat and dirt clumped into his hair. The hot water felt good and soothed his muscles.

Drying off, he winced touching a sore area. Right below his ribs there was a evident gash. Now starting to heal, Peter wondered how long the wound had been there. His emotional numbness evolving, further than he imagined. Looking the wound over, it was quite deep and he would require stitches.

He wondered how you would react seeing his bruises. If you were the squeamish type and hated looking at blood. Would be be disgusted seeing the toll Spider-Man had on his body.

Would you view him differently if you knew he was on a man-hunt for Green Goblin. That he was going to be his one way ticket to hell. Serving justice to his Aunt, or would you want him to turn the other cheek. Keep his moral compass straight and not let the name friendly neighborhood Spider-Man be tarnished by grief.

I want you to notice when I'm not around

Five days had gone by since you saw Peter in AP Lit. The general school body carried on like normal, but internally you were panicking. Perhaps it was naive of you to think that a school that saw over 800 students would notice one students unusual absence. Coming from a smaller school, it was hard not to notice when the same classmate was absent multiple days in a row.

At the lunch table, you waited for Michelle and Ned to join you. From the facial expression you were making, they could already tell you were going to talk about Peter. Truth to be told, Peter hadn't spoke to Ned or Michelle. They were just in the dark as you were. Except they knew about his other identity, and knew about the death of Aunt May.

"Okay, let's cut to the chase. What's wrong with Peter?"

Your voice was firm and somewhat demanding. Giving each other the same look as last time.

"And I want the truth. The full truth." You nipped any planned lie in the bud.

"His Aunt died." Ned said softly. Slapping his arm, Michelle fussed at him through tight lips.

Covering your mouth, you felt your stomach drop 100 feet. He was grieving. It would explain the puffy eyes he had over the past few days.

"His uncle died when he was in elementary school, and his aunt. He doesn't have any family left."

Hurting more for Peter. Your mind went into action mode. Determined, you slapped the back of your hand into your palm.

"That's not true. We are his family. We have to do something for him."

And something you all did. After school you walked to the nearest store. Buying him flowers, a card, and a basket filled with his favorite snacks. It wasn't too much, but you wanted do something. The plan was for you to deliver the basket to Peter. Ned had a mandatory SGA meeting to plan Homecoming and MJ had a debate match. Now all you had to do was gather your courage to face him.

She's runnin out the door. She's runnin' out. She run, run, run run.

Slightly delirious Peter sat up in a daze. Confused as to who could be at the door. Hoping it wasn't the landlord to ask where the rent for this month was it. He could only handle one obstacle at a time.

Concentrating to walk to the door without falling over. The effects of the alcohol hitting him in full effect. He swung open the door, eye lids heavy.

"Peter."

"Yn." He slurred. Not fully processing you standing in front of him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check on you. You haven't been at school."

"Didn't think you would notice." Peter stood to the side letting you enter the apartment. You could sense the touch of Aunt May from the apartment. There were several pictures on the dinner table of her and Peter. The one in the center of Peter accepting the Tony Stark Scholarship. His smile was bright, radiant almost.

You took a seat on the couch. Your fingers in your lap, wondering how to bring up the care basket.

"Want some?" Peter offered holding onto the bottle of Chardonnay. He poured himself a glass, almost filling it up to the top.

"Peter we are sixteen."

"Right. I apologize." He put the bottle back into the cabinet. Taking a big gulp, he joined you on the couch. You were speechless watching how low Peter had become.

You struggled to find the words to express your support for Peter in this difficult time. With a gentle touch, you laid your hand on top of his. The other reaching behind you to give the signed card.

"Here." Peter looked at the envelope with a neutral facial expression. He too was at a loss for words. Opening the card silently, Peter read the heartfelt words from his friends. In his drunken state his emotions twisted and turned inside his chest. His emotional resolve starting to crack, tears flooding yet again.

"You all didn't have to do this." Dry and emotionless, you explained to Peter that the three of you noticed the hurt he was going through.

"Am I some charity case to you all. You think a card is just going to make it disappear." He stood up, looking down at you like you offended him.

"Is that all I am to you? Huh!?" He voice raised.

"Peter, no."

"Do you think I'm weak. You think I'm some fragile piece of glass." His anger rising, hands pulling at his scalp. You stood up as well, trying to reason with him.

"Peter listen-"

"No!"

"No you listen to me! You aren't going to shut out your friends, people who care about you because you are grieving. You don't have to carry this eight alone."

Cutting him off again before he could speak.

"Maybe Ned and Michelle will let you toss them to the side. But I won't let you. You don't know how good you have it right now."

Swallowing thickly, Peter reflected on the past week. The missed calls he ignored claiming he wanted to space. Walking to school to avoid seeing Ned on the bus. Skipping debate club so Michelle could question him about his absence.

Stunned into silence, you took it as Peter being stubborn.

"I thought that maybe hearing it from me, you would change your mind. But obviously I was wrong. I'll give you your space Peter." The way you said his name was with complete dejection. Like it was form of rejection in itself. Peter saw you turn your back to walk out of the front door. Leaving him alone in the empty apartment, drunk and upset.

"Please, help me." He said weakly, voice cracking. "Don't go."

Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want.

You're so fuckin special, I wish I was special

But I'm a creep

The first promise you made Peter do was to pour out all of the bottles of alcohol in the apartment. He agreed, partially embarrassed you had to see him in that state.

The second promise was to call of Ned and Michelle and apologize. He invited them over to his apartment for Legos and pizza, which they readily accepted. For the first few minutes it was a little tense. Peter apologized for his behavior and by the end of the night everything was back to normal. Ned and Peter geeking out over Star Wars, and Michelle making fun of them equally.

You were able to insert yourself into the flow of the conversation naturally. Being able to laugh at the quirky humor the group had, not having to try to hard to socially camouflaged into someone else. You were being yourself.

You were having so much fun that you nearly forgot you had a curfew, and your apartment was a twenty-minute bus ride in the opposite direction. Hugging everyone individually, you promised to see them on Monday for school. Holding Peter by his shoulders to watch his promise to attend school regularly again.

"Do you want us to walk with you Yn. It's not good for a girl to walk around by herself at night." Peter offered.

"No, you all live in this area. It's fine, I promise."

"Call us if someone follows you."

"Or just call for Spider-Man." Michelle chimed in sarcastically. Ned looked at her knowingly.

"Right, like Spider-Man is going to show up out of thin air." You joked back.

"You never know." She shrugged, and Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. You didn't linger any further, hurrying down the steps. The cool New York air hitting your face. Grateful you had on a heavy coat, so the walk wasn't too painful.

Holding onto the pepper spray in your pocket. You weren't naive of the New York streets, and took every necessary precaution. No headphones, staying in public areas, no short cut through alleys. Hair pulled up so it couldn't get tugged on. Your father a Harlem native, taught you the basics of walking home alone.

"Psst. Pssst." You ignored the voice cat calling you. Increasing your pace faster, you didn't even turn around to look at them. But the voice got closer and more desperate. Almost sprinting at this point, you could hear the feet picking up equal speed. Adrenaline on 10, you run avoiding street lights and lingering shopping carts. Before you realized it your feet were in the air, your body in the air.

"Oh my God!" You looked at the ground which you were significantly higher.

"It's okay! You're okay." He soothed, trying not to sound scared himself.

Balancing you both on the buidling, you had a chance to look at the man in front of you.

"Spider-Man!?"

Wiggling his fingers, you couldn't contain your excitement. Nearly jumping back into his arms. You cheesed harder than ever before.

Regaining your composure you, thanked him.

"No need to thank me."

"How did you even know where I was?"

Lying smoothly on the spot. "I was just in the neighborhood."

Sincerely, thanking him again.

"Do you think you could bring me back to the ground?"

"Right." He grabbed your waist so naturally. Webbing to the building sliding you both to the ground.

"Get home safely Yn." He spoke to himself, watching you walk down the street longer than he should have.

Gosh, he was creep.

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