#mcu spiderman x stark!reader

[msmk11]

🍾 happy birthday!!!

how about 24 with spiderman? maybe reader is also a superhero, but a little newer to the game than spidey?

24) Getting pinned down while a training session/sports practice

omg thanks for coming to the party! hope you enjoy :)

Spiderboy

Peter Parker (Spiderman) x gn!Stark!reader

WC: 1.7k

CW: fighting; sexual tension

Summary: You decide Spiderman is your personal enemy after your dad invites him to join the Avengers before you. So, when you're given the chance to fight the hero during training, you're thrilled.

Despite your many pleas, your dad, Tony Stark, had kept you from becoming a superhero for a long time. It was too dangerous, he always said, and he wanted to protect what was most precious to him. You knew his refusal was always rooted in love, and you loved how much he cared. Still, you wanted to fight alongside him, to help make a difference. You’d bring up the topic every few months, with his answer always staying the same. You wouldn’t fight back too hard and instead find other ways to help out the Avengers. All that changed when your dad brought on a new superhero- Spiderman. Though you didn’t know his real identity, you did know that he was your age, which left you furious. You’d stormed into his office, shaking with anger and betrayal, shouting about how it wasn’t fair- how he could let some strange boy join the Avengers but not his own kid.

The screaming didn’t convince him nor did the silent treatment. It was only when you’d given up entirely on your dream of being an Avenger that your dad sat you down and invited you to join the team. You’d given an enthusiastic yes, accepting the stipulation that you had to train for a year before you’d be allowed out in the field. You were to be trained in combat, to help your dad in making your suit, to think up your superhero name, and to go through countless mission simulations. The training had been hard work, no doubt, but you knew that it would all be worth it when you got to serve alongside your dad, the Iron Man, in just a matter of two months. 

Today is like most others, your day starting early with a combat training session led by Natasha. You’ve just finished your stretches when she walks in, a brunette boy about your age in tow. You shoot her a confused look but the redhead only smirks, stopping before you. 

“We’re doing things a little different today,” Natasha says to you. You notice that she isn’t in her usual training clothing, instead wearing jeans and a t-shirt. 

“I’ve taught you all I know. Now it’s time to put your training to the test and actually fight someone. You’ll be fighting Peter here.”

Your eyes trail to the boy in question and they narrow, “who the fuck is Peter?”

The boy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugs, “that’s me. I’m Peter, Peter Parker. You’re Mr. Stark’s kid, right?”

You nod and cross your arms, “Okay but who are you? Peter Parker means nothing to me.”

He blushes furiously and you want to roll your eyes. Seriously, who is this guy?

“Oh right! I’m Spiderman, one of the new Avengers.”

Your heart drops and anger simmers in your stomach. Fucking Spiderman- your personal enemy ever since he got invited to join the Avengers before you. Your eyes scan his figure, assessing him. You really don’t understand what your dad sees in him. He seems like an average teenager, if not a little more fit than most. Though you’d never been to public school and therefore not often been around people your age, you know he looks just like the rest of the boys. Did sunshine come out of his ass or something?

“Oh. You’re Spiderman. Right.”

The Parker kid furrows his brow in confusion, a little taken aback by your less than warm reception. He didn’t expect you to be losing your mind over meeting Spiderman or anything, but he thought you’d at least be friendly, maybe crack a few jokes like your dad. 

You glare at Natasha slightly, “was this your idea? Or my dad’s?”

She ignores your question, “you need to practice fighting real people and not just a dummy. You’ll start with Parker and eventually move up to fighting Steve, me, and so on. This isn’t up for debate, Junior, so assume your positions.”

Your face heats at Natasha’s use of the team’s nickname for you in front of your rival. You think she did it on purpose just to embarrass you. You’d just have to make up for it by kicking Parker’s ass. The boy assumes his position on the opposite side of the mat, falling into his stance with a confidence that really pisses you off. You don’t know where he got the gall to waltz in here like he owned the place and-

Natasha tells you to begin and Peter lunges forward, nimble on his feet. You barely avoid him, feet skidding across the rubber mat just in time. You reposition, squaring your hips like you were taught, and throw your fist when he approaches. He ducks, avoiding it, and takes the opportunity to land a blow on your side. The force sends you staggering. He’s stronger than you thought and you recall that he probably has some sort of superhuman strength. It only makes you madder, and you retaliate, kicking him in the stomach. Peter stumbles only a little and you grit your teeth. The two of you engage in a back and forth, sending blows each other’s ways and failing, both of you blocking the other’s attempts. 

“Quit playing with each other,” Natasha scolds, no real malice in her voice. 

You decide to try a different angle, sweeping your foot out to catch the back of his leg rather than using your fists. It works, and you internally celebrate, reveling in the way he tumbles to the ground. Unfortunately, in his fall he catches your ankle, dragging you down with him. You grunt as you land on your back and you see red. 

“Motherf-” 

Peter sends his fist towards your face and you stop it with both hands, fighting against his insane strength.

“Why do you seem to hate me so much?” the brunette grits, voice shaking with effort. 

You press your foot against his chest, sending him backwards again, “can’t handle people not loving you, spiderboy?”

He’s quickly back up on his feet and you resituate, “that’s not my name and you know it, Stark. Honestly, we’ve never even met before today! How can you hate me?”

His voice sounds boyish and innocent, as though he just wants to be liked by everyone. It almost makes you feel bad for him. 

Peter manages to clock you in the face and you stumble, clutching your jaw in pain.You land a few blows in retaliation and then he tackles you in the middle. It doesn’t send you plummeting to the ground, instead only locking your upper halves together. You take the chance to mutter in his ear, “you waltzed in and took what I wanted without even trying. After I’d spent years working my ass off to become an Avenger.”

“I’m sorry, you know it wasn’t my f-” 

You don’t let him finish, instead finally shoving him back off of you. This is it. Your moment. You charge towards him and pull a classic Natasha move. You leap forward, flinging your legs around his shoulders and sending him hurtling to the ground. You’ve got him right where you want him, and you smirk in victory. You’re straddling his hips as you lean down and murmur, “gotcha.”

Your cockiness is your downfall and Peter takes advantage of it. He shoves you off, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him. The brunette is heavier than you and he pins both of your wrists, effectively leaving you defenseless. You squirm beneath him, frustrated and he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “don’t pout just because daddy didn’t give you your way.”

And something about the way he says it so assertively, while also being pinned underneath him, causes you to have a very different reaction. Heat shoots to your core and you just barely suppress a shudder. You swallow thickly and push him off, standing up shakily and wiping your palms. You blow past Natasha, and head straight to the locker rooms.

Fuck.

You splash cold water on your face and take deep breaths, trying to calm the passion brewing in your stomach. You’re hot- equal parts angry and turned on and it pisses you off. You’re supposed to hate this Parker kid, not be attracted to him.

The door to the locker room opens, “go away, Nat,” you call out.

Footsteps scuff against the tile and it’s not Natasha that appears but Peter. 

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, not meeting his eyes, “Fine.”

He runs his fingers through his mussed hair nervously, “are you sure? Did I hurt you or-”

“I’m fine, Spiderboy.”

Peter walks closer and suddenly his fingers are on your jaw, tilting your head slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. He grimaces and a coo catches in his throat, “I got you bad here. It’s already turning all black and blue. I’m sorry.”

The pads of his fingers are warm against your skin and you shiver when they dance gently over the bruise.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

You shake your head, and your mouth opens and closes like a fish. Peter’s brown eyes watch you intently, softly. 

“I really am sorry for taking your spot on the team or uhm whatever.”

You search his face for any insincerity but find none, and your heart thaws just a little.

“I’d like to get to know you. Become friends, you know, or…”

He trails off, and your breath hitches at what the silence implies. Peter leans closer to you, your breaths mingling and-

There’s a knock on the door and it opens. The two of you jump apart as your dad comes into view. He pauses, eyes flitting between you and Peter suspiciously.

“Sweetheart,” your dad says, focusing his attention on you, “it’s time to go work on your suit.”

He steps closer and grabs your face, “and we’ll get you some ice for that bruise.”

Your dad tucks you into his side and begins corralling you towards the door. You look over your shoulder and awkwardly wave goodbye to Peter.

When you’re not looking, your dad sends Peter a glance too. It’s a warning. You fuck with my kid, I’ll fuck you up too.

And while Peter is scared out of his mind, he can’t help but smile nonetheless.

[angelltheninth]

You know how guys have the happy trail? What do you think the MCU men's is like?

Gonna tell you something Anon, I love it when guys have that. It's cute and attractive.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, James “Logan" Howlett, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, body worship, teasing, muscles, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Probably one of the most attractive things on guys. At least to me. Other than strong hands.

Steve keeps himself very neat, not really because of you, not at first, it's just a habit that he still has from his army days. That being said he didn't miss the way you look at him when he does it. He knows you're looking so he takes his time.

Bucky is a bit more clumsy with it since losing his arm. His new one is good but it's cold on his skin when he needs to groom himself and be nice. But... maybe you can give him a hand when he needs it.

Clint doesn't bother with it much because he doesn't have much of a visible happy trail. It is there when you really look or run your hand down his abs. That being said he doesn't quite see why you like it so much, it's just body hair.

Thor never quite cared to keep himself overly well groomed or to cut down on any body hair. When he tried his hair grew back rougher, which you can feel as you touch his stomach. To him it was never something he had to think about, besides you like it.

Loki brags about how good he looks. Every part of him, even the happy trail which he always keeps well maintained. As he gets ready for bed he might take it slower, to give you time to look.

Logan has always been covered in a lot of rough, bushy hair and his happy trail is no different. For him it's like a path that you can follow as you kiss his body. In fact he has referred to it as that numerous time, making you blush at the implications.

Remy often gets asked if his hair is red everywhere, and yes it is. He chuckles when he tells you that you should check for yourself. Despite how he may seem he does keep himself well trimmed, from his belly all the way down.

Kurt does have a bit more hair there and it's quite soft and fluffy. It's one of the rare parts on his body that's not as cold as the rest of him. But it is quite dark, almost black in contrast with his blue skin.

Tony wants you to look at him as he gets changed. He wears his pants a bit lower when he knows he can work from home. Seeing you ready to kiss every inch of him won't make work easier.

Peter has a happy trail but it's a bit sparse. He doesn't have much body hair on his belly and is a bit ticklish when you touch him there. It's one of his weaknesses so he always blushes when you do it.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi! Can I request a Peter Parker X Stark! reader and she wants to try on Pete’s spidery suit and web shooters and he thinks she looks really good in it so he kisses her and Tony comes in and thinks they’re doing some weird type of role play?❤️

Hello there! I had so much fun writing this one! I'll probably say it turned out to be one of my favourite fics. Thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy reading it too.

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𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐔𝐩, 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → Fluff, Humor, Slight Spice, Making Out, Overprotective! Dad! Tony, Embarrassment, Light Suggestiveness.

Summary → You blackmail Peter into letting you try on his Spider-Man suit. It fits too well, leading to making out—and Tony walking in.

"Pleeeaaase, Pete?" You whined, leaning over his desk with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

Peter didn’t even look up from his notes, his pen gliding across the page. "Nope."

You groaned dramatically, throwing yourself back onto his bed. "Why not?! I'm the one who worked on half of your suit!"

"Keyword: half," Peter quipped, turning his chair slightly to smirk at you. "Mr. Stark did the heavy lifting, and, oh yeah—it’s my suit."

You sat up on your elbows, pouting. "That’s not fair! I bet it would look so cool on me."

"It’s not about looking cool, babe," he said, finally turning to fully face you. "It’s dangerous tech, Y/N. The suit has all kinds of built-in features, and I don’t want you accidentally webbing yourself to the ceiling or activating instant-kill mode."

You rolled your eyes. "As if I don’t know how the tech works! I built most of it with Dad. I probably understand the suit better than you do."

Peter gave you an unimpressed look. "That’s debatable."

Frustrated, you crossed your arms. If begging didn’t work, it was time for drastic measures. You sat up, narrowed your eyes at him, and smirked. "Fine. You leave me no choice."

Peter arched a brow. "Uh-oh."

You stood up, placed your hands on your hips, and announced, "No kisses for a month."

Peter froze. "Wait. What?"

You grinned, seeing his reaction. "Yep. No kisses. No sex. No cuddles. No cute little nose nuzzles. No hand-holding. No forehead kisses. Nothing."

His jaw dropped. "That’s—That’s cruel and unusual punishment!"

You fake-sighed, placing a hand over your heart. "Well, if my boyfriend refuses to let me try on the suit that I worked on, then I guess I have no choice but to take extreme action."

Peter looked genuinely distressed now, running a hand through his curls. "That’s so unfair. You can’t just—"

"And!" You interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You’re so ungrateful! I spend hours helping you upgrade that thing, and you won’t even let me try it for five minutes?" You dramatically turned away, placing a hand over your forehead. "Oh, the betrayal!"

Peter groaned loudly. "Ugh! Fine! "

You immediately spun around, grinning. "Wait, really?"

He gave you a deadpan look. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just—just don’t break anything, okay?"

You let out an excited squeal, doing a little happy dance before rushing over to grab the suit from where he pulled it out of his closet. "This is the best day of my life!"

Peter crossed his arms, watching you with a defeated sigh. "You’re ridiculous."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately, yes."

You snickered before holding the suit up in front of you, inspecting it. The fabric was smooth under your fingers. "Ooooh, I feel powerful already."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Okay, just—put it on already before I change my mind."

You nodded and started unzipping your hoodie, shrugging it off before kicking off your sweatpants. You were left in just your bra and panties when you noticed Peter had gone completely silent.

You turned to see him staring.

Blatantly.

His lips were parted slightly, his brown eyes locked onto your figure as if he had just seen the most captivating thing in the world.

You smirked. "Pete."

No response.

You snapped your fingers. "Peter Parker, my eyes are up here."

He blinked rapidly, his face immediately flushing. "I-I wasn’t—! I was just—!"

You crossed your arms, tilting your head playfully. "Just what?"

"Admiring my girlfriend," he admitted, looking sheepish but utterly smitten.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't hide your grin. "Uh-huh. Sure, Romeo. Now turn around."

Peter huffed dramatically but turned his back to you. "You act like I haven’t seen you in less."

"Yeah, well, you don’t get to ogle while I’m trying to be Spider-Woman for the day," you quipped, stepping into the suit.

As soon as you pulled it up over your shoulders, it felt huge. The fabric sagged, the arms hung loosely, and the legs were way too long. "Oh my God, Peter, your body proportions are so weird."

He laughed. "Hey! I have a perfectly normal body proportion, thank you very much."

You pouted, looking down at yourself. "It’s so baggy! Ugh, I look ridiculous."

Peter turned around, smirking. "You could always take it off."

You shot him a look. "Nice try." Then, you pressed the spider emblem on your chest.

Immediately, the suit shrank.

The fabric adjusted perfectly to your body, molding to every curve, every inch of your skin. Your stomach, chest, legs—everything was snug.

Peter stopped mid-breath.

His eyes traveled from your legs to your ass to your chest, and suddenly, his Adam’s apple bobbed. "Uh…"

You turned to the mirror, blinking. "Oh. Damn."

The suit hugged you perfectly. The fabric stretched in all the right places, highlighting every dip and curve of your body. Your ass? Amazing. Your boobs? Fantastic.

Peter made a strangled noise.

You turned to him with a smirk. "You okay there, bug boy?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Then, without a single word, he took two long strides forward, cupped your face, and kissed you.

It wasn’t just a peck. No, Peter devoured you, his lips molding against yours hungrily. His hands found their way to your jaw and waist, pulling you against him as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, melting into him as he pressed you against the wall. His hands started wandering—one settling on your jaw, tilting your head up, while the other slid down to firmly grab your ass.

You gasped into the kiss, breaking apart for just a second. "P-Peter—"

"You look so hot in my suit," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again, voice breathless and desperate.

You giggled between kisses. "I knew it!"

Peter groaned, nipping at your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass. "Not fair," he muttered, moving down to your jaw, leaving soft kisses.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I mean, if you wanna keep making out with me in your suit, I’m not stopping you—"

Then.

The door opened.

"Ay, kid, I need Y/N for a sec—WHAT THE HELL?!"

You and Peter immediately froze.

Your dad, Tony Stark, stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open, looking horrified.

You and Peter were practically glued together—your arms around his neck, his hands on your ass, both of you looking like deer caught in headlights.

Tony blinked. "What. The. Actual. Fuck."

"Dad!" You yelped, shoving Peter off you.

Tony raised his hands, shaking his head rapidly. "Nope. Nope. Nope. I do not wanna know why you’re in the Spidey suit and sucking face with Spiderling. I do not wanna know what kinda freaky roleplay stuff you two are into."

You turned bright red. "IT’S NOT—"

"Oh my God," Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. "I need bleach. No, I need therapy. I need Pepper."

Peter, looking about five seconds away from fainting, squeaked out, "M-Mr. Stark, I—I swear—"

Tony pointed at him. "You. Out."

Peter blinked. "But… this is my room—"

Tony turned his glare up to maximum dad mode, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Peter swallowed hard. "I'm out."

And with that, he bolted straight out of the door.

"You. Family meeting. Now."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Kill me now."

Tony sighed, mumbling to himself as he walked away. "Why couldn't she date a nice, normal guy from down the street?"

From the hallway, Peter called out, "I am a nice, normal guy!"

You groaned again. "Oh my God, Peter, shut up!"

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[m00ngirl777]

Can I request a oneshot with that trend where girlfriends go sit in their boyfriends laps while they're gaming or studying, it has so much potentiallllll for fluff and smut

If This Was a Movie

Peter Parker x reader

REQUEST

“Man, I can’t, I gotta study, I told you, I gotta do well on these midterms… I’ll hang out next time, have fun buddy,” With that he hanged up, and grabbed the stack of books, papers and his bag, when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Ugh!” He put everything back down and went to open the door, now a little frustrated, “Broke, what the he-” He rammed the door open and stood dead on his tracks when he saw you. 

Summary: Sitting on peters lap, he’s busy AF, college peter, you go visit him in Boston , he’s so happy to see you but it’s midterms week, but you haven’t seen each other so you can’t keep your hands off, so then you find yourself in this situation, in the library, he’s studying like crazy, coffee and food runs for your boy, sitting on his lap, and you can’t help but tease him until he’s had enough pent up frustration from all the stress of his first midterms and not seeing you, so he lets it out on you when he grabs your hand and drags you to the old literature section because no one in the engineering building is going near there, and fucks his frustrations out on you against the Jane Austen collection. Sue me babe.

A/N: hi so, as I was writing the summary, that scene from YOU, literally came to me, where joes like, youre not wearing a bra blahblahblah, if this was a movie id grab you and wed go a it at the stacks, or smth along that, hence the title, anyways enjoyyyyy. again I am sososososo very sorry I took nearly three months to answer this request, I don't know why I am the way I am, I sorry. anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333 but I might take three months to answer :( SORRY

TW: SMUT, RAW, NO PROETECION BABES.

WC: 2008

- - -

“Hey man…yeah…yeah… I-I know… but I gotta… g-uh…yes… mhm,” Peter really wanted to end the call, don’t get him wrong, for the first time in his life he felt like finally he fit in, even if he didn’t, college treated him different, he didn’t only matched, but surpassed the intelligence of his peers, accompanied by great humility which for the first time gained him respect instead of a shove, or a push, or a basketball to the head, or his lunch on the floor, the teachers encouraged him, as faithful as he was to you, and as uninterested as he was in in any other, he felt a little taller anytime a girl would smile, or giggle, or blush at him, something he had never known. He still had Ned at his side, but he was also very pleased at his new friends, the guys that were on football scholarships, that had urged him endlessly to join the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity, and how they would, what felt to him, beg him to come to endless parties, and hang outs and so on. He was cool, he was respected, he was wanted, he was admired, and if he didn’t study for the upcoming midterms he would also be very fucked.

As wonderful a boy as Peter is, this type of attention can get to anyone's head, because for the first time in his life, people cared, not that he was Spider-Man, but that he was Peter Parker, he wasn’t failing, god knows hes too smart for that, he simply could not afford to fail anything or he would fail the course. 

“Man, I can’t, I gotta study, I told you, I gotta do well on these midterms… I’ll hang out next time, have fun buddy,” With that he hanged up, and grabbed the stack of books, papers and his bag, when he heard a knock on his door. 

“Ugh!” He put everything back down and went to open the door, now a little frustrated, “Broke, what the he-” He rammed the door open and stood dead on his tracks when he saw you. 

“Peter?” 

He pulled you in the tightest hardest hug you've ever felt, you instantly wrapped your arms around him, hands traveling to his, of course shaven head, it was an initiation ritual, it was more a buzzcut now anyway. 

“Miss me, baby?” He nodded hysterically, face buried in your neck, as he pulled you in the dorm, shutting the door, he couldn’t let go of you. 

He pulled away to kiss you, cupping your face, moving his lips against yours with a familiarity unmatched. You spent about five minutes against the door, Peter whispering the sweetest nothings into everywhere he kisses, I love you for your neck  neck and jaw, gorgeous and beautiful for your cheeks, I missed you into your mouth, and a combination of all for your ear, temple and forehead. You kept scratching the back of his head, caressing his neck, touching him, telling him with your hands everything he was saying with his words, your hand went down to his sweats, pulling on the waistband to reach for him, but before you could get a grip he gently pulled your wrist away and let out a soft groan, head on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong baby?” You cupped his face. 

“I gotta…study,”

“Awww, you gotta study baby?,” He nodded against your neck getting closer to your chest. 

“You… you can stay here… or,”

“No way, I’m studying with you,” It’s not that he didn’t want to, he just knew he’d get nothing done, still he couldn’t find it in himself to deny you, so here you were, in the mostly empty library, attempting to study. 

“Peter, why are you so stressed? You're probably the smartest guy here…like… I remember seeing a lesser version of this in highschool, and I was in none of the AP’s, you totally got it,” You were practically sitting on his lap, your hand caressing his neck. 

“I know… I really don’t want to fail,” He said, concentrated on the problem. 

“You won’t,” You kissed his cheek before getting up, grabbing your bag.

“Baby, where are you going?” Damn those puppy eyes. 

“I swore I saw a coffee shop just outside, want anything?”

“Coffee, just regular,”

“‘Kay, I’ll be back,” 

Soon you where back with a caramel latte, and a cold brew with cream. Peter thanked you and let you back in his lap, and in an attempt to adjust yourself you ended rubbing down on him. 

“Y/n,” He grasped at your hip to keep you from moving more, which led you to relax back into him, biting your lip softly when his thigh ended up being nuzzled between yours, slightly pressing on your core, just enough to want more. 

“Sorry,” Your cheeks flushed slightly as you sipped your coffee, feeling the cool bittersweetness aid the heat you were starting to feel. 

He nodded, and went back to concentrate on his problems, equation after equation, number after number, variable after variable, just never ending engineering stuff your history lit majoring brain didn’t even want to begin to understand. He kept mumbling the problems quietly, going over them as he wrote, it always turned you on how smart he is, even in highschool with way simpler material it impressed you, watching him know made your mouth dry. 

“Did you like your coffee?” You asked going to sip it.

“Yeah, its nice, thank you babe…” He answered in automatic, and it still made you giddy, very softly grinding down on his thigh with the excuse of adjusting yourself, you were really trying to cut him so much slack. It wasn’t his fault that you showed up unannounced in his midterms week, you’ve just missed him so much, and you needed him so bad, but he really needed to get this done, so you took deep breaths, and settled on sitting down on the cushioned booth, your thighs over Peter’s, leaning against him in a way that wasn’t too constricting, and your fingers playing with the very short hair at the back of his head, placing the softest kiss every other minute along his jaw, or neck, or face. 

Peter was trying to be grateful you were being understandingly loving, and tried to concentrate on studying, with your warm thighs over his, your arm around him, your hands on him, the combined natural scent you had, the smell of your growing slick, and your perfume, clouding him, he was really trying, but he was also excruciatingly hard. 

“Wanna see something?” Peter asked, a little fed up.

“Uh… sure, yeah,” You let him grab your hand and a little forcefully drag you into the book shelves, going through one after the other, until you were at a dark little corner, dust settled in a full collection of Jane Austen, the first, united edition, you were in between probably the only two shelfs of classic literature in this multiple story library. 

“Oh my god… how old are these copies? Is this what you wan-” He turned you around and shoved you against the shelves, kissing you with a sickening hunger, so different from the softer initial kiss you had shared, “You are… the only person… here… that gives… a crap… about those…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, jerking, as he grinded against your inner thigh, your hands would usually pull at his hair, but right now you could only scratch his scalp, which he still very much enjoyed. 

“Hmm, baby please… please,” He whined in your ear, as he rutted against your thigh, and how could you deny him, your needy, frustrated boy, that missed you so very much. 

“Shh, yes… yes whatever you want Peter… shh,” You didn’t know what you were about to do, but you knew you had to be quiet, you whispered in his ear as you cradled his head, he picked one of your legs up, and his other hand went between your legs under your skirt, rubbing your clit through your panties, as he kissed your jaw and neck, he pushed the panties to the side, and massaging your bud, wanting you to get as wet as possible, his mouth on yours, swallowing any moans that were a little too loud. 

Effortlessly, he lifted you up wrapping your legs around his torso, hands on his neck and shoulders, as he freed himself, giving a couple jerks before aligning his member to you, biting your sweater to prevent him from crying out, one of his hands went under your sweater, massaging your breast as he kissed your neck and whispered sweet nothings to you, perfectly still, letting you start to rock against him if you needed it.

“I love you so much baby, I’ve missed you so much,” Peter had dreamed for weeks of seeing you again, he’d figure you’d come visit, you’d never stay at a frat house, so of course you'd book the nearest lush hotel you could find, and he’d make love to you all night long, in a fresh big bed, he’d imagine that, and other scenarios very similar to that, sometimes he just asked for you to send him a voice note of your day and that along with the polaroids you had sneaked into his bag with a couple of your panties would be enough for him to satisfy himself in these two months he’s been in Boston. Never would’ve he imagined this scene, where he grabbed the shelves, fingertips and nail beds white as he started to drill into you, breathing hard, slam after slam, leaving you to do nothing but take it, as you clung to him, face on his neck, letting out the smallest of whimpers, that just fueled him to pistol even harder into you.

You felt everything, how his length reached the deepest inner most part of you, stimulating the nerve endings, making you feel the tingles all the way to your chest, his pelvis, lined with hairs not as kept as usual due to the lack of need, rubbing you with every thrust, his desperation and way he fucked you, like he’d die if he didn’t feel the walls of your pussy around him right this moment, feel how they clench around him when he makes you come, theres nothing he wanted more, but you were absolutely cockdumb, no words, no actions, no will in your body, you just felt your pussy and how it was being fucked raw.

He bit down harder on the sweater to stop himself from moaning and grunting in this library as he stilled inside you, very deep withing you, feeling how his warm spend pumped inside you, like gasoline, fuelling your quiet mewls, even more when he rubbed you until you came so he’d feel that perfect extra pressure as he finished coming, almost as soon as him, leaving you both breathless, shaking, and frozen.

“Peter…what the fuck…” You leaned your forehead o his shoulder, breathing hard, baffled by what you just did. 

“I know… I know…fuck,” He breath out softly as he pulled away, making you whine, he put you back down and readjusted your underware, then pushed himself back in his pants, “fuck, I’m sorry, I-I ju-”

“Shh, it’s okay…” You ran fingers through your hair, trying to re-adjust yourself, starting to feel soaked from your combined spends, knowing there was no way you could just go back and sit down to keep studying.

“I’m gonna go back to my hotel… you should finish studying and you can come by later… yeah?” You cupped his face placing a soft kiss on his mouth and cheek, he nodded, wanting to be around you, but knowing he needed to finish this. 

“Okay… yeah, I’ll just finish with the guide,” He said, but made no effort to move. 

“I love you, I’ll see you later, Pete,” You kissed his cheek, pushing him away gently to walk him back to his table. 

“Yeah, I love you too,”

[miraculouslyfine]

bombed it.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Doesn't follow the events of anything, established relationship) Synopsis: Peter is extremely concerned about his girlfriend's safety, she doesn't really share the same sentiment, and they fight, like a lot

Word Count: 10,8k

"You can't be serious”   “I'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to choose”  

~

Peter and Y/n rarely fought.   

They just got each other. They understood each other on a deeper level; their shared traumatic experiences definitely played a part in this mutual understanding. Their love had been tested and tempered, growing stronger with every challenge they faced together. Throw some ever-growing affection and trust into the mix, and there you have it: a happy, healthy relationship.  

Sure, they had their fair share of squabbles and petty arguments, just like any couple, really. But they both valued honesty and communication. They were open about their feelings in any and every given situation, always making sure they see eye to eye, always trying to find middle ground. After all, that's what relationships are for, right? Compromise.   

Peter was willing to give up a lot of things to ensure Y/n's happiness. Nothing mattered to him more than making sure his beautiful girlfriend, his best friend, the love of his life was perfectly contented with how things were between them. Well, almost nothing.  

The one thing Peter would never budge on was Y/n's safety. That was non-negotiable. He felt it was his duty as her boyfriend, as her superhero -superpowered superhero- boyfriend, to protect her, to make sure she never got hurt.  

Now, Y/n Stark was no damsel in distress and by no means a stranger to danger and all kinds of superhero-related adventures and difficulties. Having grown up with the Avengers, her involvement with the team of heroes was inevitable.   

She was –according to the rest of the team, Peter included- a vital part of the Avengers. She took part in missions, though in a less dynamic and active sense, usually helping come up with different strategies and plans (you can never be too careful!). She brought a “much needed unique and fresh perspective to the team", as her dad used to say (“I just overthink a lot, it's not that big of a deal", she would always mutter under her breath, causing Peter to roll his eyes and playfully flick her on the head).  

Even though Tony (mostly Pepper) didn't want his daughter risking her life and getting caught up in the superhero world, he knew that if push came to shove, she needed to be able to protect herself. Plus, he couldn't deny that she had a talent. Her combat skills, ideas, creations, and great planning and thinking ahead skills were more than appreciated within the community. She was trained by the Black Widow herself for god's sake, she knew what she was doing. 

So what could have caused this schism between them, causing Peter to leave the comfort of their bed, deciding to spend the night on the couch instead, away from the feeling of her warm body next to him? 

Peter knew what she was doing. Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, right after he'd come back from his own patrol. She thought she was being sly about it, too. Really, Y/n? Now you're just insulting my intelligence. 

It's one thing to play vigilante and another to outright lie about it. And Peter hated lies almost as much as he hated not knowing whether she was safe or not. And these late-night activities of hers were starting to piss him off. They were not good for his heart, either. Every time he heard the soft sound of their bed creaking as she got out of it at ungodly hours, he could feel his chest tightening. He always tried to fight the urge to get up and immediately follow after her, just to make sure she wasn't doing anything reckless. 

He didn't realize right away. She didn't look like she had spent half the night fighting crime, at first. She'd return a couple of hours before he was supposed to wake up. She'd make sure there were no visible injuries and she'd go on with her day. She really thought he'd never find out (or at least not before she felt he was ready to find out). 

After a few days, the lack of sleep was apparent. And no matter how hard she tried denying it, or playing it off, Peter could tell something was up. It didn't take him long to start putting one and one together; her tiredness, some unexplainable scratches here and there, the fact that crime in NYC seemed to have subsided. 

Peter knew. And he didn't like what was happening, not one bit. They had talked about it once, a while back. She had done this before-gone around his back to play hero-, or at least attempted to, before Peter (with a little needed help from her overprotective, over the top father, the little snitch) brought an end to it. He thought she had understood, that she saw how she was being ridiculous and unreasonable. Recklessly throwing herself in danger, all in the name of proving something? That didn't sound like his very intelligent, very MINDFUL girlfriend. 

He tried talking to her again. He gave her the chance to come clean about her activities. She denied everything. 

He was mad. He was hurt. He felt betrayed. Not only did she ignore his warnings and went about it behind his back, she was also lying to his face. 

And they fought. It was bad. It was unlike any previous fight they had. They were screaming at each other, hurtful words flying in the air, the tension in the room palpable. It was getting late, they were both tired, frustrated and upset. 

"Y/n, for the last time. You're being stubborn about this. All I'm saying is there are ways for you to help without being ON the field. Without recklessly risking your life-" 

"For god's sake, Peter. You're acting like I'm some adrenaline junkie, picking up fights with random people at the bar! I am helping you-" 

"Helping me? You think making me stay up all night, worrying if you're gonna make it back in one piece, is helpful? Geez, what would I ever do without you?", he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm  

"No one asked you to stay up. I know what I'm doing. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm trained and-" 

"Oh, you're trained? Why didn't you just say so?" 

She sighed heavily and rubbed her temples.

"Are you done? I'm trying to talk here and you're acting like a child!" 

"I'm the one acting like a child? You're acting like an angsty teen, sneaking around, ignoring everything and everyone!", he realized his voice came out a bit higher than intended. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

"Listen, Y/n, this isn't a game. Your life is not a game. You're putting yourself in danger. Hell, you're putting civilians in danger! What do you think you're doing, running around playing hero? Hm? You think you're tough for going out there all on your own? You're not tough, Y/n. You're dumb. You're dumb and reckless. What do you think will happen? You think you'll be lucky every time? That nothing bad will ever happen because you are trained? All it takes is one miscalculation, Y/n, one wrong move on your end, for things to take a really bad turn. Your luck will eventually run out. You could get hurt or..." 

He took a deep breath. He didn't dare finish that sentence. The thought of ever losing her was too much for him to handle. 

"You're not invincible, no matter how hard got try to convince yourself. You don't have healing factor, you don't have super strength, enhanced senses. NOTHING. You're intelligent, yes. You're incredible, you're creative, innovative, truly one of the smartest people I've ever met. You've got heart, I recognize that. But it's not enough. Your gadgets and devices won't save you every time."  

"One bullet", his voice cracked, "one bullet, Y/n, and you're gone. Do you get it now? GONE. DEAD. Do you understand the severity of the situation? You're risking your life. And for what? Five seconds of fame? To prove you're worthy of being your father's child? What are you trying to do?", he shook his head, frustration evident in his mannerisms. 

He took a good look of her. The sight immediately broke his heart. Her gaze sparkled with a delicate brightness, the unshed tears amplifying every flicker of emotion. He felt the need the need to reach out to her, to touch her (whether that was in order to hug or strangle her he didn't know for sure). But he didn't give in. He couldn't back down. Not when her safety was on the line. He needed her to understand, to see where he was coming from. 

The tears in her eyes refused to fall, clinging stubbornly to her lashes as her glare cut through the air like a blade. Who does he think he is? 

"This is what you think I'm doing? Showing off? Trying to prove a point?", a bitter chuckle escaped her. "No, Peter. I'm being helpful. I'm helping you, the cops, the people of New York. Why do you always do this? Why do you have to be like this? Why do you think you get to decide what’s best for me? I’m trying to help you, and you're out here treating me like I'm some kind of criminal, some kind of liability, an inconvenience to you! Do you think I don’t know the risks? Do you think I’m blind to the danger? I know what I’m walking into, but it’s my choice to make, not yours! You act like I’m some fragile thing that needs protecting, but I’m not, so stop acting like it.” 

“I'll stop when you start acting like a responsible adult for once”, he replied bitterly. 

“You're not a little girl anymore, Y/n. Tony won't be always there to save you and -as much as it pains me to say- neither will I” 

“I never-” 

"You never asked me to?", he run his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner. 

“I know. God, Y/n, I know. You're so goddam stubborn. You'd rather die than ask anyone for help. You're always so eager to prove your independence, that you don't need anyone to have your back. Well, news flash! You're not invincible. You're not some kind of god. And you're certainly not a hero. You can't just shrug off a bullet or an explosion or whatever insane thing you decide to get involved in next! You're human, so start acting like it. You're not expendable. Selfish is what you are.”  

"Selfish? You think I'm selfish? For what? For wanting to help people? Don't you see the irony of this coming from you?”, she let out a laugh in incredulity, unable to even fathom how he could ever say that to her. 

“You think this is about me? You think I'm just out here looking for glory or some kind of thrill? I’m doing what needs to be done, and if you can’t see that, then maybe you don’t understand me at all. You’re calling me selfish, but the truth is, you’re the one being selfish here. You’re more concerned with your own fear, your own worries, than you are about the bigger picture. I’m not out there for me. I’m doing what I can, what I have to, because I don’t want to sit back and let things happen when I know I can make a difference.” 

Peter was fuming. 

"God, this is ridiculous. I can't keep doing this, I just can’t! You’re out of control! Every damn time I turn around, you're throwing yourself into some insane situation, thinking you’re some kind of superhero. What do you think this is—some kind of game? You act like nothing can touch you, but that’s bullshit! You’re human, you’re not indestructible, and I’m getting sick of it. 

What do you think happens if you get hurt? Or worse, if you die? Oh, wait, you don’t think, do you? No, you’re too busy basking in the glory of your own self-righteousness to realize the mess you’d leave behind. Because, guess what? I’m the one who’d have to pick up the pieces. Me. The one who’s standing here, constantly worried, because you’re too damn reckless to care about the people who love you.  

You want to help people? Fine, but not at the expense of your own life! You think I’m just supposed to stand here, watching you put yourself in danger, all for some stupid idea of being a hero? Are you kidding me?! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be safe for once? Why do you have to go and do these reckless things that make my heart stop every single time? Do you even care about the people who love you?”, his chest rose and fell in sharp, measured movements, a betrayal of the battle raging within. 

She crossed her arms, her fingers digging into her skin as if trying to tether herself to composure 

“I know what I'm doing.”, she spat out. That was... a weak argument, that much she knew. But in her ~slightly~ emotional state, it was all she could over without completely breaking down in tears. 

It seemed like that single comment angered Peter to no end, making him laugh bitterly in return. 

“Do you think growing up in the Avenger's Tower makes you one of them? Here's a reality check: your little stunts don't make you a hero. They make you a liability. And if you keep this up, I don't know how much longer I can deal with it. Because I can't spend my life wondering if the next time you pull this crap will be the last time I ever see you” 

But Peter was on a roll, he couldn't stop there. 

“And you know what’s even worse? You don’t even care. You don’t care that you scare the hell out of me. You don’t care that I am waiting back here, while you do something so unbelievably reckless that might result in me losing you. Because it’s always about you, isn’t it? Your need to prove something, your need to feel important. Never mind the people you leave behind to pick up the pieces!” 

And... silence. Complete and utter silence. 

It wasn’t the kind of silence that comes from comfort; it was loaded with the weight of accusations and defenses that would never be voiced. 

Peter winced. He regretted saying those words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He was getting to her, he could tell. He also knew he was being kind of an ass about the whole thing, but he really needed her to understand how unreasonably stubborn she was being. He needed her to be safe, but it seemed like she didn't value her wellbeing all that much. He couldn't stand that. 

Ouch. That...yeah, that did the trick. It wasn't just what he said, it was mostly how he said it. So... cold and distant, poisonous almost. Like he was taunting her. She could barely recognize the man in front of her. That wasn't her sweet, loving boyfriend, her Pete, her biggest supporter. 

She understood his point of view. She is less experienced than him, especially in the sense of getting personal with the villains. The fact that she doesn't have any powers didn't help her much either. She knew he was worried about her safety, that all his anger was stemming from a place of love (even though it wasn't that evident that particular moment). But she also hoped he'd have more faith in her. After all, she is always careful, with at least three backup plans ready, just in case. She always follows protocol, doesn't make any rush decisions. And she's Iron Man's daughter for fucks sake, she does know what she's doing. 

“A liability, huh?” 

Her eyes were distant, gazing at something far beyond the room, avoiding contact like it might burn. It felt like there was an invisible wall around her, not built to shut others out but to keep herself from crumbling 

He sighed and spoke again, this time in a slightly softer tone. 

“I didn't mean it like that... I'm sorry. Look, Y/n, what I'm trying to say is I’m scared out of my mind, and I can't keep pretending like I’m okay with this. Every time you leave, I’m terrified you won’t come back. Every time you walk out the door, I wonder if I’ll be standing at your grave one day, all because you thought it was some heroic act to put yourself at risk. You think that’s noble? It’s selfish! It’s selfish because you’re not just risking yourself—you’re ripping apart the people who care about you.” 

He took another shaky, deep breath and spoke in a gentle, yet firm tone, his gaze intense. 

“I can't lose you, okay? I won't. And you doing this-this reckless, stupid, selfish thing- is how that's going to happen. If something ever happens to you... I won't forgive you for it.” 

His voice lowered but remained firm, trembling slightly.  

“And I won't forgive myself either”  

Silence settled over them once again. It was thick, like a fog settling over the room, muffling everything but the sound of their breathing. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe, as though the room itself disapproved. They sat stiffly, their gazes deliberately avoiding each other, the distance between them more like a chasm than a few feet. 

Peter cleared his throat. 

Things were not looking good for them right now. He didn't like it, not one bit. The room felt suffocating, the once light and warm atmosphere long gone. He truly hated fighting with her. He wished this conversation never happened. They'd be laying on the couch now in each other's arms, with her on top of him, her head on his chest, her arms lazily draped over him as he'd run his fingers through her hair, holding her close. Just talking about their day while some movie played in the background. That's what we should be doing, Peter thought. Instead, here they were, avoiding eye contact like they were about to face Medusa. But this conversation couldn't be held off any longer. 

Soon enough the silence became unbearable. 

“Maybe it's best if we just-”  

“I should-” 

As soon as they heard the other person talking, they both closed their mouths, resulting in yet another moment of awkward silence. So in sync these two, it was almost endearing. 

Peter tilted his head slightly toward her, eyebrows raised in a silent invitation to speak. 

Her eyes closed briefly before they looked up, a flicker of acknowledgment passing over her face as she nodded weakly before speaking in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. 

“Maybe we should take some time alone... to...cool off...you know...?”  

Peter sighed. This conversation hadn't led to anything. Anything other than hurt, frustration and a headache, that is. Hours of an endless emotional back and forth, all for nothing. They hadn't reached an agreement and he was certain they weren't seeing eye to eye. And this wasn't a matter he was willing to back down from, she had to realize that her actions affected him as well. 

He understood where she was coming from, he really did. He understood better than anyone the burning need to help, the desire to make a difference, that deep sense of responsibility to the world. He *is* Spider-Man after all, that's his thing; he cares, he acts. He feels the moral duty to use his abilities to protect others, often at great personal cost. He doesn't mind. Or, at least, he didn't in the past (it is kind of different when you have someone at home waiting for you, you just got to be more careful, you know?). 

But he doesn't want that for her. Never for her. 

Maybe he was the selfish one for getting mad at her. Maybe he was selfish for hating knowing she was out there somewhere, all alone, taking justice into her own hands. But is it really selfish of him not wanting to see her getting hurt over something completely preventable? Why would she be out there risking her life when HE could be doing that instead? Did she not realize how much she meant to him?  

He didn't want them to separate, not like this, not right now. But he really didn't feel like continuing this conversation. He was exhausted, his emotions all over the place, a hint of irritation still lingering. He could tell she was tired too. Plus, he still had today's patrol. 

He reluctantly nodded. 

“Yeah...maybe we should. I have to go anyway. We'll talk about this later, okay?” 

She just nodded in response and retreated to their bedroom. Peter stood there for a moment, contemplating his next move. He hesitantly made his way to the door. He didn’t want to go, not really—but a small, guilty part of him was already savoring the thought of the space he'd have once he left. There was a flicker of regret in his eyes as he turned away, quickly replaced by a soft exhale and a lighter step. He hesitated at the threshold, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary before finally turning it. As he stepped out, he paused for a moment, as if expecting Y/n to call him back, but when she didn't, his posture eased, and he moved forward with renewed purpose. This is gonna be fun.

Peter soon disappeared into the night, busying himself by fulfilling Spider-Man's duties. He went about with his usual routine, swinging around the most common areas, the sketchiest ones, the streets most accidents happen on. But it was an uncharacteristically quiet night; no supervillains threatening to wipe out NYC, no petty criminals running around causing chaos, no cats on extremely high trees needing saving. 

Someone asked him for directions, so there was that.  

(A man can't even escape his thoughts in peace, smh) 

Hours passed, and it was getting later and later. Frustration, worry, and exhaustion started to catch up with him. He was tired, his body screaming for rest and his heart begging for an end to this whole ordeal. After a couple of hours of killing time by meaninglessly swinging around, Peter decided it was finally time he returned home- to her.  

Peter returned to the apartment, his body tired and aching, frustration still gnawing at his. On his way back he wondered whether or not he'd find her there. She could've gone to a friend's or at her parents’ house to avoid him. She could’ve completely ignored him and left to play vigilante again. He prayed that wasn't the case. Honestly? He half expected her too, if anything just to spite him. 

He quietly entered, not knowing what to expect, but the place was quiet and empty. He scanned the room and the first thing he noticed was the food on the kitchen counter, a silent gesture from her. 

He grumbled to himself, still somewhat irritated by her behavior. But the mere sight of the food, still warm and waiting for him, softened his frustration just a bit. Despite everything, she still cared enough to think about him. 

He walked over to the counter, his stomach rumbling with hunger. He sat at the table, quietly eating the food, his mind still going over the events of the night. He couldn't stop the frustration from bubbling up, but he also couldn't ignore the fact that he was exhausted. The food tasted good, but it didn't do much to satisfy his frustration. He still wanted answers, he still wanted her to stop this nonsense. 

He let out a quiet sigh, the sound echoing in the empty room. He was tired, both physically and emotionally. He knew he needed to sleep, to rest and recharge. 

Peter opened the door to their bedroom and was immediately hit with a wave of surprise. Y/n was asleep in their bed, looking deceptively peaceful. Peter's eyes narrowed as he watched her.  

He wanted to wake her up, to confront her and put an end to this. But seeing her there, asleep and defenseless, made him pause. Peter grumbled internally, torn between his irritation and the sight of her peacefully sleeping in their bed. He knew he should wake her and confront her, but something about seeing her there, so calm and vulnerable, made his anger soften just a little. Instead of waking her up, he opted to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching her as she slept. The frustration was still there, but there was a hint of worry and care underneath it all.  

“Hey, baby. There's food on the kitchen”. Her voice was soft and muffled, more like a murmur than actual speech, as though weighed down by sleep. 

As Y/n spoke in her sleep, Peter's annoyance melted away just a little more. Her sleepy voice was almost endearing, and her concern for his well-being, even in her half-conscious state, touched a softer part of him. 

He let out a soft sigh and ran a hand through his hair, his irritation fading into the background. Seeing her like this reminded him that beneath all the chaos and recklessness, she was still the girl he cared about.  

He couldn't bring himself to wake her up or to confront her right now, especially not when she was in such a vulnerable state. Instead, he sat there, watching her sleep, his mind swirling with a mix of frustration, care, and a bit of tenderness. 

He still had so many questions, and he was still upset about her antics, but for now, he was content to just sit there, listening to her gentle breathing and feeling a strange sense of peace in the room. Tomorrow would be another day for confrontations and discussions. 

Peter sat there for a few more minutes, just watching her sleep. The silence of the room was soothing, and the frustration he felt earlier was slowly fading away. 

With a deep sigh, he finally decided it was time to get some sleep himself. He carefully got up and made his way out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

As he settled into the couch, he couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. He knew he'd have to talk to her again, to get answers and hopefully put an end to her vigilante streak. 

This is bad, she thought. 

Peter's presence –or absence- had woken her up from her already somewhat disrupted sleep. She kept replaying today's events in her head, almost as if she were trying to make herself angrier and more anxious. She didn't like fighting with him. Sure, she didn't agree with him in the slightest and his words angered her to no end, she couldn't deny that she missed him terribly, especially now that she had the whole bed to herself, feeling like it'd swallow her whole. 

Since when does he sleep on the couch, anyway? Why did he get to act immaturely and petty? Why didn't he want to sleep in bed with her? He was the one in the wrong, blowing things out of proportion. 

After staring at the ceiling for God knows how long, she decided she'd just go for it. She could be stubborn; she was certainly not above acting petty after a fight. But she missed him. A lot. She yearned for the warmth of his body, the feeling of his arms around her. She decided pettiness (and the talk they're bound to have) would have to wait until tomorrow morning. 

She pushed the covers aside sluggishly, her arms moving as though weighed down by invisible chains. Her feet slid off the bed and onto the floor, landing with a dull thud, her movements slow and deliberate. She sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, hunched over, before finally shuffling to her feet with a soft groan. She shuffled toward the door, each step a reluctant scrape, the sound faint in the stillness of the room. 

She slowly made her way to the living room. Her eyes immediately landed on Peter's sleeping form on the couch. Without giving herself another moment to think this through, she started walking towards him. 

She carefully climbed on the couch and settled in an awkward position on top of him/ against the back of the couch. It was very uncomfortable but she could manage. What she couldn't manage was Peter-less sleep. 

Peter was pulled out of his half-asleep state by the sudden movement on the couch. He blinked a few times, his vision slowly adjusting to the dim light. 

At first, he was confused. Was he dreaming? But then he felt Y/n's weight on top of him, her awkward positioning making him wince a little. 

He felt a surge of irritation bubble up once again. Seriously? She had the whole bed to herself, why was she cramping up the couch like this? He was about to protest, to tell her to go back to the bed where she would be more comfortable, but something held him back. Maybe it was the softness in her half-sleeping gaze, or the warm weight of her body on top of him. But instead of pushing her aside, he found himself pulling her closer, instinctively wanting to hold and comfort her. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

He let out a resigned sigh, his frustration giving way to a mixture of annoyance, care, and a hint of affection. Peter's eyes widened slightly at her unexpected question. He had been caught off guard by her words, and there was a moment of hesitation on his part. 

But her voice, tinged with vulnerability and hesitation, stirred something within him. Maybe it was the softness of her tone, or the genuine concern underneath the question, but the irritation that had been brewing in him suddenly lost some of its sharpness. 

He let out a long, quiet sigh before whispering back, his voice gentle but firm. 

"Yes, I am." 

They drifted into a quiet pause, the air between them tinged with hesitation. That was until she spoke again in an almost hushed tone. 

“Are you very mad at me?” 

Peter paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady his emotions. Her quiet plea made his chest tighten, his heart conflicted between the lingering irritation and the instinctive need to comfort her. 

"Yes,", he whispered back, his voice softening a bit, "I am very mad at you." 

She hummed softly, acknowledging his response before speaking up once more. 

"Mad enough not to give me a goodnight kiss?" 

Peter couldn't help but feel a small spark of amusement at Y/n's words. Despite everything, despite his frustration, she still knew just how to disarm him with her playfulness. 

After a moment's hesitation, he relented, his voice still soft but with a hint of a smile. 

"I suppose I can manage a goodnight kiss. But then you need to promise you'll go back to your bed." 

"I don't like sleeping without you" 

Peter's heart skipped a beat. He was taken aback by her raw honesty and the vulnerability in her voice. It softened his frustration a bit more, reminding him of the love they shared beneath their disagreements. He let out a sigh, a mixture of annoyance and affection in his voice.  

"Why? Why can't you just... behave and make things easier for both of us?" 

That was... *not* what she expected to hear. She suddenly felt very awake, like a bucket of freezing cold water was dumped over her. It made sense that Peter wouldn't ignore the problem at hand just to let her cuddle with him in peace. Did she like it? No, not really. But that's Pete for you. Always wanting to do things right and always in proper order. 

But she was really not in the mood for that. Feeling rejected didn't help either. It was a quiet devastation, not loud or dramatic, but a slow, persistent ache she couldn’t ignore. The heat crept up her neck and into her face, her body betraying the humiliation she tried to suppress. Guess she won't be getting that goodnight kiss after all. 

She got off him just as quickly and awkwardly as she had previously climbed on top of him (she may or may not tried to discreetly knee him in the process). 

“You came here because you needed space. I need to respect that. I'll leave you alone", she said quietly as she got up from the couch. 

"Goodnight, Peter", she mumbled without giving him the chance to respond before walking back to their room with her head hung low, her shoulders slumped. 

Peter watched her walk away, her dejected expression pulling at his heartstrings. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but another part of him wanted space to think, to process everything. It was all just too much too quickly. 

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back on the couch. The night was still young, and there were so many thoughts swirling in his mind. He needed time to sort through his feelings, to figure out what to say to her when they talked. 

While Peter was busy staring at the ceiling and gathering his thoughts, Y/n was pacing back and forth in their shared room. She was feeling anxious.  

She knew her participation in any superhero related activity -let alone playing hero all on her own, in NYC of all places- wouldn't really appeal to Peter. 

She knew that, yet she did it anyway. She wanted to help, she knew she could help, so she did. Turns out all that training really paid off. She did good, if she said so herself. Criminals were caught, civilians were safe, the press was eating it up. It was a win in her books. 

Despite all that, she couldn't ignore how her actions affected Peter. He seemed pretty pissed off. And him being that mad at her wasn't a common occurrence, like at all. 

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She was too emotional for that right now. Would they bounce back from this? Was he... done? Done with her? With them? She started giving through his closet, trying to find something to wear. She needed comfort, and if Peter wasn't about to provide that, his clothes would have to do. 

In true teenage girl fashion, she put on some sweatpants and one of Peter's hoodies. She put some sad, break up songs -Taylor Swift most likely- playing softly in the background, as she pulled her laptop and played a Star Wars movie, Peter's favorite. She was very well aware of how ridiculous she was being. But she really couldn't find it in herself to care. She was allowed to wallow in self-pity if she wanted to.  

As the movie started, her eyes began to tear up. She started thinking back to the day they first met, when they got together, when they moved into this house, essentially making herself cry more. What if this was their end? 

She didn't know what possessed her to act like this. Maybe it was the crippling fear that he'd break up with her. Maybe he was done with her. Maybe that's what tomorrow's conversation would bring. Because why on Earth would he want to sleep on the couch -without even giving her a goodnight kiss-, if he wasn't planning on breaking up with her? 

She cried even harder. 

Lost in his thoughts, Peter was startled when he heard a soft sniffling sound coming from the room he shared with Y/n (what a great day to have paper-thin walls!). Instantly, his irritation vanished, replaced by a sense of worry and concern. 

Was she crying? Was she upset? He couldn't bear to see her in distress, especially if he was the cause of it. And though part of him was still angry, the other just couldn't stand by and let her suffer. 

Silently, he got up from the couch and made his way to the bedroom door. 

Peter gently opened the door, trying not to make a sound. The sight that greeted him hit him hard. Y/n, dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants, sitting on their bed with her laptop in her lap, the screen lit up by the familiar glow of the original Star Wars trilogy playing. It was both sweet and heartbreaking. 

Tears were streaming down her face, and her small sobs filled the room. Peter could feel his heart cracking, torn between his lingering anger and his overwhelming love for her. He stood there for a moment, frozen, until the sight of her broke the last shred of his resolve. 

Peter moved forward slowly; his steps gentle yet firm. He approached her with care, as though she were made of fragile glass.  

“I could hear you from the living room” 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up... I'll keep it down” 

"No, no," he murmured, sitting beside her.  

"You don't need to apologize. I just...I just can't stand seeing you upset.", he reached out to brush the tears off her cheeks, his touch gentle and comforting. 

Tears spilled freely down her face as she leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand against her cheek softening the jagged edges of her emotions. Her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs, each one a wordless apology for the harshness of the argument that still lingered in the air. And yet, she didn’t pull away—instead, she melted into the comfort, clinging to the embrace as if it was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely. The touch was steady, almost forgiving, and despite the ache between them, it felt like a fragile truce beginning to take shape. 

"I don't want us to break up", she blurted out suddenly. 

Peter blinked in surprise. He was taken aback by her sudden outburst. It hadn't even crossed his mind that they would break up.  

"What? No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?" 

He pulled her gently into his lap, his arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. In return, she clung onto him and cried in his shirt. 

"I'm sorry. I really don't want us to break up. Ever. I hate it when you're mad at me. I don't want to lose you, Peter. You mean so much to me, I don't-" 

Peter held onto her tighter, his heart aching at her outpouring of distress and love. 

"Y/n, angel, listen to me," he said, his voice a calm and gentle assurance in the storm of emotions. "We're not breaking up. Not now, not ever. I love you. Mad, not mad, I love you. Do you understand what I'm saying? This is not a fleeting thing. This is us. Together. Forever." 

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I just wanted to do the right thing. I just wanted to help; I promise that's all I was trying to do. You're so busy and overworked and don't even complain because you're such a great person and I just wanted to help you and do something good for the world, too. I'm so sorry for making you worried. I didn't mean for things to come to this. I'm sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry-" 

She cried even harder in his arms, making Peter's heart shatter at her tear-filled confession. He held her closer, feeling every word as if it weighed a thousand pounds. 

"Shhhhh, shhh," he whispered, trying to soothe her. "You don't have to be sorry for wanting to help, Y/n. That's who you are. That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But there are other ways. Safer ways. We'll find them. Together. But I need you to promise, to actually promise me, that you won't do that again, that you won't go out risking your life again." 

She pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her own still filled with tears. 

"Peter..." 

She shook her head. Her tone was quiet and soft, almost a desperate plea.  

Peter's heart clenched tightly in his chest again as she pulled back to face him. Seeing her tear-stricken expression, his resolve nearly faltered. But he steeled himself, knowing this conversation needed to happen.  

"I need to hear you promise, Y/n," he repeated firmly, his tone unwavering, "promise you won't do this again. Promise me right now, or I promise you we're done." 

His words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of their love and their future together. Suddenly, she started feeling slightly lightheaded. Did he just-? No, he wouldn't...would he? But he just said- 

"W-what? You can't be serious”  

“I'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to choose” 

As the gravity of what he had just said sunk in, Peter felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Had he really just threatened to end their relationship if she refused to comply? He loved this girl with all his heart, yet here he was, holding their relationship hostage like some sort of bargaining chip. 

He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. He needed her to know he was serious. But he also needed her to understand this was for their own good. For her safety. For their future. 

"Y/n," he said softly, but firmly, "promise me." 

"But you just- you just said this isn't a fleeting thing. That we are in this together. You just said-", her voice broke and a fresh set of tears ran down her cheeks. 

"And I meant it. I meant every word. But..." Peter paused, his gaze still fixed on her tear-streaked face. "But I can't watch you put yourself in danger like this. I can't stand idly by, watching you risk your life, your future, your everything just to prove a point. I can't promise you my undying love and then stand idly by and watch you throw it away. This isn't some game, Y/n. It's real life. And in real life, people get hurt. People get killed." 

"No. You don't understand. I'm always very careful. I follow protocol. I do everything right-"  

The words came out uneven, trembling as if her emotions were fighting their way through every syllable. Each word seemed to catch in her throat, rasping and shaking as she struggled to speak through the tears. 

"This isn't fair. You can't do this. Peter, you can't-", her own sobs prevented her from speaking. The hesitation in her voice mirrored the vulnerability in her eyes, wavering as though afraid to break completely. 

“No, Y/n, it's not fair!" Peter retorted, his emotions boiling over. "It's not fair that I have to sit here, worrying about you every second of every day. It's not fair that you get to waltz into a dangerous situation, risking everything, and leave me here wondering if I'm ever going you to see you again. That is not fair. But it's the reality of who we are. And I can't watch you do this to yourself, to me, to us." 

After he spoke the room fell silent. All that could be heard was the heaviness of Peter's breathing and Y/n's soft sniffles. 

“Would you do it?” 

“Would I do what?” 

"Would you quit being Spider-Man if I asked you to?", her voice barely above a whisper. 

"Wh-what?" Peter blinked, completely taken aback by Y/n's sudden question. It felt like a punch to the gut, the very thought of giving up being Spider-Man. It was a part of him, just as much as the love he had for her, and he couldn't imagine living a life without it. 

"Why would you-? No, Y/n," he sputtered, the words stumbling out before he could stop himself. "It's not the same. What I do, it's different. I have powers. I have responsibilities-" 

"Okay, then.” 

There was a hint of disappointment and an even bigger hint of finality in the way she said it. That was all she said. Such small and insignificant words, but in that moment, it could potentially signify the end of an era, the end of their era. 

The silence that followed was stifling, the weight of Y/n's words hanging heavily in the air. Peter stared at her, his heart in his throat. This couldn't be it, could it? After everything they had been through, was this really how it would end? 

"No. Y/n, you can't-" Peter's voice broke, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't possibly want me to choose between you and my duty as Spider-Man. It's...it's not a fair choice. It's not fair to ask me to give up-" 

“I'm not. I was just... wondering if you'd do the very same thing you're asking me to do”, she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.  

Peter's heart clenched as he watched the tears stream down her cheeks. The realization of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. Had he really just demanded she choose between her desire to help and her love for him? Had he really just issued an ultimatum that threatened their entire relationship?  

His shoulders slumped, his resolve suddenly shattered. 

"I...I didn't mean..." He stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his mistake. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm-" 

"At least you won't have to deal with my recklessness anymore", she chuckled bitterly, her tone only half joking. Her voice was quiet and tired as a result of all the crying. 

She really didn't want their relationship to end, especially not like this. Maybe if she took a moment to calm down (if only she could just close her eyes for a minute) she'd see they were both overreacting. They both had their point. Maybe they could even hug it out. That could work, right? It works for kindergarteners; it could work for them, too. But in her emotional and restless state all she could think about was one upping him, making him feel guilty for ever threatening to end things. 

Peter's heart cracked at Y/n's half-hearted attempt at humor. He knew he had a lot of apologizing to do, but right now all he wanted to do was make it right. He didn't want to lose her. He couldn't even begin to imagine a life without her.  

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his Spidey-Sense suddenly flared, causing him to freeze mid-breath. "Hang on," he interrupted, his brow furrowed in concentration, his senses now fully alert. He stood silently, focusing on the signals his Spidey-Sense was sending him. Something was off, something was wrong. 

His eyes darted around the room, his attention flicking to the window. Was that... movement? A shadow? A flicker of something out of the ordinary. Y/n's eyes followed Peter's line of sight on the window behind them, noticing something. Before she had the time to let Peter know, the object she noticed was already on its way to their room.  

Acting purely on instinct, in a fragment of a second, she had pushed Peter off the bed, and fell on top of him, concealing him from whatever was going to burst through the window.  

Peter's Spider-Sense blared again, a split second later than it would have been if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own emotions. 

The force of the blast sent a wave of debris and smoke swirling through the apartment. Glass shattered around them, raining down like sharp, shiny confetti. 

The rush of adrenaline barely let her register the feeling of glass breaking her skin. Peter's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Y/n had flung herself on top of him, shielding him from the impending explosion. He tried to push her off him, his strength kicking in, knowing he could withstand the blast. 

But it was too late. The shockwave of the blast hit them, sending them crashing against a nearby wall. Peter instinctively wrapped his arms around Y/n, trying to protect her as much as he could. The explosion was deafening, the pain momentarily blinding.  

Once the dust began to settle, Peter slowly let go of Y/n, trying to catch his bearings. Peter's eyes darted around the destroyed room, trying to assess the damage. The devastation was staggering — shattered windows, smoke filling the room, debris everywhere. But his focus was on Y/n; the only thing that mattered right now. 

He gently grasped her shoulders, pulling her towards him, trying to assess her injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaky with worry. "Please, please tell me you're okay." 

She barely noticed the sharp ache on her side or the warmth of blood trickling down her temple as she looked over the charred remains of what had once been their home. Her eyes stayed fixed on the crumbled remains of their house, where years of memories now lay in twisted, blackened ruins. The faint ache in her ribs with each breath was nothing compared to the hollow thud in her chest as she stared at the space that had once been their home.  

Her breathing was shallow, ragged—not from exertion, but from the weight of what she’d lost. Every step sent a jolt of agony through her body, but she ignored it, her focus locked on the blackened timbers and ashes that used to hold their memories, their life. What was a little pain compared to this? 

Peter's grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Y/n, look at me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Look at me and tell me you're okay." 

He needed to know she was alright. He couldn't handle the alternative. The thought of losing her was more terrifying than any explosion or villain. 

"Pete, our home. It's... it's gone” 

Her words stumbled out, disjointed and hollow, as if her mind was still scrambling to catch up. ““The picture wall, the stupid chemistry pun posters... they're all... gone.” Her mouth hung slightly open, her voice barely above a whisper, like she couldn’t trust the weight of her own thoughts. Every sentence felt like a question, her tone wavering between incredulity and desperate denial, as if speaking it aloud might somehow undo the reality before them.  

Peter's heart ached at her words. The thought of everything they had built together being destroyed was almost too much to bear. But right now, the only thing that mattered was Y/n. 

He took a deep breath, pushing aside his own emotions.  

"It's just stuff, Y/n. Things. We can get new stuff. None of it matters as long as you're okay." 

“But it won't be *our* stuff” 

Peter's heart broke at her words. She was right. Nothing could replace the sentimental value of their shared belongings — their collective memories and shared experiences. But he had to remain strong for her. He couldn't afford to break down when she needed him. 

"We'll make new memories. Better memories. I promise," he said softly, his hands still on her shoulders. "We'll find a new place, and we'll make it ours. It'll be even better than before. You have to trust me." 

"Trust you? You just broke up with me!”, her tone was almost accusing as tears began running down her face. 

Peter's heart felt like it was tearing in two as the words left Y/n's lips. He hadn't meant it, he *never* would have meant it. He only wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. But he realized his own fear and anxiety had caused him to make a mistake, a terrible mistake. 

"Y/n, baby, please," he pleaded. "It wasn't real. I was scared. I was worried about you going out and putting yourself in danger. I... I panicked. Please, you have to know... I love you." 

"You have a funny way of showing people you love them", she muttered sarcastically under her breath. “Anyway, is that supposed to make me feel better? You gave me an ultimatum, we kinda broke up and an explosive device literally demolishes our home". Angry tears were running down her face. 

"What is going on today? And you were mad because what? Because I risked my life? NEWS FLASH, PETER. THAT'S WHAT YOU DO ALL THE GODDAMN TIME. But I TRUST you and BELIEVE in your need to contribute to the greater good"  

"And I'd never- ah, fuck", she hissed and pressed down on her side 

Peter's eyes widened. Immediately, all other thoughts faded into the background. He quickly moved to her side, lifting up her shirt to assess the damage. His eyes fell on a nasty cut on her side, blood slowly seeping out.  

"You're bleeding," Peter said, his voice trembling with panic. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier?" 

"Because I was in need of a red shirt- obviously I didn't know!"  

Her tone sounded sarcastic and frustrated; a hint of fear mixed in there as well. 

Peter huffed, feeling an emotional whirlwind. Mainly relief and the tiniest bit of irritation. Of course, she couldn't resist a snarky comment even in a crisis. 

"Right, because bleeding is the current trend," he quipped, trying to match her tone. "Red's not really your color, by the way. You're more of an orange gal." 

He couldn't help but feel a hint of affection towards her, even as he berated her. 

“Parker, I swear to God, if you don't zip it right now, I'll make you regret ever asking me out on that first date” 

Peter paused for a moment, caught off guard by her comment as it reminded him how he just threatened his lovely girlfriend -who he's madly in love with and would literally die for- he'd break up with her if she didn't stop doing something she loves. Her words sent a jolt of guilt through him; he could hear the hurt in her voice, and he knew he was the cause of it. 

He shook his head, pushing the weight of his mistake to the side for now. Y/n was bleeding, and that was his first priority. He would deal with the fallout of his ultimatum later.  

"Hang on," he said softly, gently lifting her up. "We need to stop the bleeding. Then we'll talk." 

He gently wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight as they made their way to what was left of the kitchen. The sink miraculously survived the explosion, and he helped her lean against it. Grabbing a clean cloth, he ran it under the faucet, wetting it.  

"This might hurt," he warned, gently pressing the cloth to her wound. 

“I'm not talking to you”, she said almost right away. 

Peter paused at Melina's response. Her voice was laced with frustration, and he couldn't blame her. He had screwed up, big time. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She was being stubborn, and he knew she had every right to be. 

"Look, I get it. You don't want to hear from me right now. I messed up, and I know that," he said softly, his gaze fixed on her. "But you're bleeding. I have to help you. Please, let me help you. Then you can go back to giving me the silent treatment if you want, okay? Plus, you don't have to talk. I'll do all the talking. Just let me patch you up, okay?" 

His voice was gentle, the frustration and anger from earlier having faded into the background. He knew that making things right with Y/n was going to take more than just words. It was going to take action. 

"I don't want to hear you talk either", she mumbled childishly. 

Peter raised an eyebrow at her petulant response. He had no doubt she wasn't in the mood to engage in conversation right now, but he refused to let her bleed out on her own floor because she was mad at him. He had to patch her up.  

He exhaled softly, gathering a bundle of supplies from a nearby first-aid kit. 

"You know, you're adorable when you're angry," he commented, unable to help himself. He started carefully cleaning the wound, his hands moving with precision and care. 

"And you're still talking" 

He couldn't help but smile at her stubbornness. He had truly fallen for a strong, independent woman. "Sorry, I just can't resist when my girlfriend's bleeding and fuming. It's a dangerous combination." 

He carefully began stitching up her wound, his hands steady and sure. "Just remember, a little bit of anger and banter make for the best love stories. We might be the next big blockbuster, with how dramatic we are." 

“Ex girlfriend", she corrected with an eye roll at the irony of it all. 

"And no love story for us. You can pursue your romance with the Becky from down the street now", she said grumpily, the thought alone tugging at her heartstrings 

Peter let out a sigh of exasperation at Y/n's correction. He knew he had made a mistake, and it hurt to see her refer to herself as his ex-girlfriend, but for now, her cut had his full attention. He couldn't get sidetracked. 

"You're right, I'm sorry. But you know, we could be the next enemies to lovers, if you play your cards right. A little banter, a little fighting, and then some dramatic make-up scene. The audience will love it." 

He finished stitching up her wound, his touch gentle despite his words. 

She wanted to stay mad at him, she really did. But it was hard to when he was making silly little comments like these. A small smile made its way to her face but she quickly bit down on her lip to stop herself before he saw and got cocky about it. 

Peter's keen Spidey senses picked up on the shift in her demeanor. He caught the subtle smile she tried to hide, and it warmed his heart. 

"Oh, is that a smile I see?" He said in a teasing tone. "I knew my charm would get to you eventually. Just imagine, if you're already smiling after breaking up, what could happen if we make up? The world might just explode from our awesomeness." 

"No one's smiling, you must've hit your head" 

Peter chuckled at her quick defense of her smile. He finished applying an antiseptic to the wound and gently covered it with a clean bandage.  

"Right, of course, I'm just seeing things," he replied with a playful wink. "But hey, if I did hit my head, maybe I'm having a vivid dream where you and I are the star-crossed lovers in the epic love story that is our lives. And you know what that means, right?" 

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Wake me up with a kiss, Melina." 

"That was the corniest thing I've ever heard. Plus, I have this rule of not kissing ex boyfriends, sorry" 

"You're really gonna play hard to get?", Peter countered, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, I guess I'll just have to win you back then. I've defeated villains and battled super-powered monsters. Winning your heart back can't be much harder, right?" 

He stood up, helping her up as he did so. He couldn't resist pulling her towards him, his hands lightly settling on her hips. "And just so you know, I'm a great kisser." 

"Really? You'd think I would know, considering we spent the last four years of our lives together" 

"Touché. But you know what they say, practice makes perfect. Maybe I should give you a refresher. After all, I can't have you going around thinking I'm a bad kisser, can I?" 

He gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his gaze filled with affection. 

"So what do you say? For old time's sake?" 

"Old time being... yesterday?" 

Peter shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Well, technically yes, but you know what I meant. Besides, yesterday was a lifetime ago. We've had an explosion, a break-up, and a reunion. That's a lot more than most couples experience in a lifetime." 

He paused for a moment, a genuine warmth seeping into his voice. 

"In all seriousness, Y/n, I messed up. I've regretted it this entire time. I'm so sorry. Please give me another chance to prove it. To prove that we're... perfect together." 

“ ‘This entire time��� being...what? Thirty minutes?"*she said with a snort of amusement. 

Peter chuckled, his smile widening. "Alright, alright, I get it. We can't all be as patient as you with our ex-boyfriends. But seriously, Y/n, I mean it. I regret what I said. I was scared, and I made a mistake." 

He paused for a moment, his gaze growing serious. "I love you. I want you. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to win back your trust and heart." 

He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Can we... just start over? Please?" 

She pulled her hand away from his and just stood there, watching him for a moment. After a bit she extended her arm towards him and introduced herself. 

"Y/n Stark", she said with the tiniest of smiles evident on her lips. 

“Who's being corny now?”, he rolled his eyes in a playful manner before wrapping his hand around hers, savoring the feel of her skin against his. 

"Y/n Stark," Peter echoed, his voice soft with affection "It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n Stark. I'm Peter Parker. But you can call me anytime." 

With that, he gently pulled her closer, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek. He leaned in, his lips gently brushing against hers, sealing their newfound beginning with a tender, heartfelt kiss. She laughed softly against his lips, the pickup line catching her off guard. Peter couldn't ignore the fluttering in his chest as her laughter met his lips. The sound was like music to his ears, and he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist. 

Pulling away slightly, he whispered in her ear, "Did that meet your witty standards, Miss Stark?" 

"I'll let it slide", she said with a serious expression, nodding slightly before a smile made its way on her face again. 

Peter grinned, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Only let it slide? I'll have to step up my game, then. How about this?" 

He leaned in again, his voice a low murmur against her lips. "I swear I'll be your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if you let me swing by your place every night." 

She snorted in amusement “That was so bad” 

“Was it now?” With that, he captured her lips in a kiss, expressing the depth of his feelings for her with each lingering moment. 

Their lips met softly, tenderly, as if every touch was a gentle reminder of how much they meant to each other. It was unhurried, each moment lingering with the quiet depth of love that words could never capture. There was no urgency, only a profound warmth, a silent apology woven into the way their hands cupped each other’s faces. The kiss held forgiveness, not as a plea, but as a gift, an unspoken promise that they were ready to move forward together. It wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a vow, a renewal of everything they’d shared and everything they still hoped to build. 

After a bit, they pulled away to catch their breath.  

“So, we're together again?”, she asked playfully. 

He looked at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement as before he softly kissed her forehead "Please, we were never not together” 

With that, they fell in silence. 

The silence wrapped around them like a soft blanket, warm and steady, filling the spaces where words weren’t needed. It wasn’t heavy or awkward but gentle, a quiet acknowledgment of shared understanding. The only sounds were the subtle rhythm of their breathing and the faint rustle of the world outside, creating a calm that felt almost sacred. In that stillness, there was no need to explain, no need to fill the air with chatter—it was enough just to be there, side by side, letting the silence speak what their hearts already knew. 

“Are we going to ignore the fact that we're homeless?” 

A small chuckle left Peter's lips as he pulled her closer. 

"You always have to ruin the mood”, he said jokingly, “We'll figure it out, baby. Just you and me. And your dad. We should probably call him and beg him to let us crash because we're kind of screwed otherwise”  

[deathbyathousandspiders]

death of a hero. ₂

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part two.

IN WHICH after getting attacked, you find out that your dad & peter have kept spider–man’s identity a secret.

author's note — highly recommend reading part one first!! this cured my writer's block !! part three coming soon!!! :)

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — hurt reader [physically/emotionally], swearing, mentions of blood, a flashback to homecoming, lots & lots & lots of angst.

read part one | part three here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Never in your life did you think you’d be targeted and attacked, then be smiling by the end of the night. You couldn’t fight the small grin touching your lips, couldn’t stop the butterflies that numbed each wound still scarring your body. 

Somehow, despite it all, Peter’s words gave you something to hold onto, something to keep you going—something hopeful. It gave you something to rewrite the painful narrative that your attacker had spat at you just an hour earlier. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

“You’ve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think you’re weak? Impossible.”

Once you finally got to the stairs to shower, you tried to swing your leg up, immediately met with a harsh reminder of how bad your bruises would be tomorrow. 

A wince parted your lips, sparking from the ache in your right hip and the direct strike it sent to the wound on your torso. 

Perhaps you needed Peter’s help after all. 

Taking a breath, you felt less hesitant than before to ask for help. It wasn’t like you had anything else to hide—you were tattered and torn up, topless and sticky with blood. 

Besides, you were used to walking with the weight of the wounds, at this point. You cut the distance to the kitchen in a matter of slow seconds. 

“Whoever attacked her tonight planned this.” Peter’s words made you pause just outside the entryway, hidden behind the wall just beyond. You blinked a bit, immediately feeling the weight of their conversation. “It wasn’t by chance, she was targeted–” 

“You don’t know that—” Even as he cut Peter off, your dad’s response was cut short. 

“And you don’t either!” Both of the boys in the kitchen held something urgent to their words; the same sense of urgency that laced the undertones between them all evening. 

Whatever conversation you were overhearing, you knew in your bones that they didn’t want you to hear it. 

Sucks for them. 

Peter continued: “The way she’s acting.. Something’s off about what happened.” Your blood froze to ice at the sentence. “And I think she deserves to know why I wasn’t there to defend her tonight.”

Thick silence swelled in the room, and you suddenly feared that your racing heartbeat would interrupt it. You had to remind yourself to breathe, and remind yourself to be quiet. 

As tempted as you were to step in and ask questions, you knew that whatever they were keeping from you was more likely to be discovered from where you were. 

Somehow, this was something they wanted to hide from you. The secret, whatever it was, made the air around you feel slimmer and heavy all at once. It sent your thoughts into a spiral, and an urge to question the two people closest to you. 

“Look, kid. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.” Tony took words from you that you hadn’t even known how to phrase to Peter yet. It sent a twinge to your heart, draped your panic in sympathy for him. 

“I know.” You could tell Peter needed to hear the words, even if he didn’t know how to admit it. 

“As much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/N’s attacker, I don’t know if coming clean about everything will solve this.” 

Something sunk in you, deflated your spirits. It hurt that they’d hid this from you—whatever it was—and had been lying for God knows how long. 

You could hear the jab in Peter’s own optimism when he spoke up again. “Then when do you plan to tell her?” At least, he was trying to come clean. 

“I don’t know..” Your dad was honest, and sullen about it. It only added to your confusion. 

Perhaps, they weren’t going to tell you ever. Maybe if you just revealed yourself and asked your own questions, you’d actually get somewhere. 

Peeling yourself off the wall and taking a few steps into frame, both Peter and your dad were completely oblivious to you. 

Despite how you stepped into view, they remained focused on the conversation, and your dad continued. “I’ll tell you what: you tell me how you’d suggest telling Y/N you’re Spider–Man, and I’ll consider it–”

The whole world stopped moving. 

“Peter’s what?”

You could’ve thrown up at the realization, at how cold and hollow the room suddenly became. The secret was out, and the quick and wide eyes that fell to you told you just how vital this secret was. 

Peter was Spider–Man. 

Even as you stared at him, eyes as wide as his, you couldn’t shake it. Your best friend was Spider–Man, working alongside your father and found family. 

The two of you held eye contact, trying to read the other. You could read the remorse and apology and panic swelling in his wide–eyed stare, but you hoped that some of the anger building in your own was silently translated regardless. 

Your dad tried to clear his throat, tried to slice through the rousing tension between the two of you, but you didn’t break from it in the slightest. 

“Dinner’s ready.” Tony tried to make a joke. To joke at a time like this, as if he wasn’t an accomplice. As if he wasn’t keeping this from you, arguably more than Peter had been. 

It was the last straw you’d been offering, swiped from your hands and dissipating with your patience. 

You scoffed, tears finally finding your eyes. The heat of them was boiled by rage, and you didn’t have the decency to hide it. “Fuck off.” 

The room was too hard to stand in. You walked away, reminded of why you were even standing in the kitchen in the first place. 

Pain itched its way up your priority list, but you didn’t care; finding a way up the stairs was the least of your worries. You were more concerned with how quickly you could get away. 

Especially as you could hear Peter calling after you, following the path you were carving between you. 

“Y/N!” He spoke your name like a plea, like it would somehow apologize for all the dirt you’d uncovered. The sound of his voice, however, only seemed to drive you further from him. 

It split your heart into more pieces than you knew how to count. 

You already battled the insecurity of being weak. A weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark. With all the time you spent in the compound, with your friends and family, you were one of the only powerless people among them. This whole time, you thought Peter understood. 

You thought the insecurity was shared, reciprocated. 

Clearly, you were wrong and an idiot. You were the only one powerless among them. 

It made you feel so stupid; to see all the inside jokes tossed over your head, to see every stupid excuse he made thrown back in your face, and he had the audacity to be sorry?

Damn right, he should be. 

Peter’s touch felt like sandpaper to your skin as he reached for your hand. You yanked it out, not bothering to turn around. 

You tried to be strong and suck up the pain, wanted more than anything to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room—two quick steps up the stairwell and the adrenaline wore off. You slowed your pace, fighting off the wincing, and wanting anything but to ask for help from Spider–Man. 

“Y/N, please.” His voice broke, and you felt sinister to think him deserving of it. “Please, I– I wanted to tell you, I promise–“

He must’ve been surprised when you turned around, at the speed you pivoted, at how intense your expression came across, because he startled. 

Your eyes held no response to the hot tears flooding from them, only holding space for the anger and hurt you didn’t have the energy to hide from him. 

“Promise?” The word came out whispered, threatening to break just as his words did. “You promise, just like how we promised to tell each other everything?” You saw each stab of each word and exactly where it hit on him, especially as your voice grew in volume. “Just like how you promised I wasn’t weak, when clearly, you know damn well how ironic that is!”

Twin tears slid down the length of his face, and you caught the subtle tremble in his bottom lip that he tried so hard to hide. “Please..” Now he was the one whispering, and you wish it sounded as satisfying as you wanted it to. 

“Don’t fucking sit there and act like you’re the hero here, Peter..” You couldn’t help the growl, couldn’t help the distaste inking down your body. Sure, you’d been hit with a knife just an hour prior in the evening, but you didn’t feel stabbed in the gut until now. “Don’t act like you understand shit about how I’m feeling right now!”

From just beyond, Tony started walking over, stepping quickly. “Hang on, Kid.” He cut in, stopping just a few paces behind Peter. “Don’t blame Peter for this.” His words practically turned up the heat on your burning rage. It was an effort to keep from boiling over. “I was the one who told him to keep quiet.”

The shakiest breath you’d taken all night forced its way down your throat. You finally pulled your eyes from Peter, watching your own father flinch at just how hurt you were. “No, you were the one who decided to be selfish!”

The room had never been so quiet, even the walls and the city beyond hushed to listen. 

“I don’t care who you thought you were saving here, but it wasn’t me.” Perhaps rage wasn’t the word you should use to describe the venom dripping off your words. You were seething, a mixture of betrayal and downright distraught. 

“I am not useless.” You felt the need to emphasize; to you, or the two faulty in front of you, no one could tell. “I may be the only powerless person in the fuck ass Avengers, but at least I’m fucking honest.”

When you met Peter’s eyes again, you almost couldn’t keep your composure. Maybe he was breaking apart just as quickly as you were, but you didn’t put in effort to hold room for an apology for him. You didn’t see the need to give one at all. 

“I’m sorry..” He couldn’t bring his voice above a whisper, above the tremble shaking each breath he took. And watching the way your father’s posture craned in sympathy to it finally gave you a cue to leave. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You glanced between both of them, still ignoring the consistent stream of tears dripping off your nose and chin. “You both fucking should be.”

Holding your head high, you made your way up the stairs, pausing three steps up your trek when you heard a singular step in your direction. 

“Don’t fucking follow me.”

And you didn’t look back. 

The second you shut and locked your bedroom door, unshakable sobs spilled from your throat and choked you dry. You had never felt so isolated, so alone, and so pained. 

Truly, you did not know how it would get better from here, and all you wanted was to be held. 

You didn’t even know who you'd talk to about this. This betrayal stretched across every person you trusted, further than your eyesight. 

It was stupid, and you blamed yourself, but all you wanted to do was talk to Peter. 

Maybe not about it or to confront it right then, but you suddenly missed him and his support. You felt like that had been stripped away from you. 

You weren't sure how to trust him anymore, let alone anyone else who hid this from you.

It didn’t help that you replayed countless upon countless interactions—with your father, with Ned, and with Peter Parker Spider–Man himself. 

It reminded you of the last time you were mad at Peter, three years prior. 

At the Washington Monument. 

You remember him flaking on the academic decathlon, and flaking the night before. You were upset because he was obviously hiding something and he wouldn’t tell you what. 

“You promised we’d hang out tonight.” You remember calling after him, walking half the length of the hotel hallway after him, too. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week!”

Peter was a pro at walking backwards, then and now, and as you always knew him to be. Even as you knew him as a klutz, even as it led him to keep walking away from you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise!”

It felt unfair to him to get frustrated with him, but you were. You were upset. “What? So your promises mean nothing?” 

That got him to stop. 

“What? No!” Defense, immediately. His eyes displayed more apology than his lips did, taking steps towards you. “I just.. I have to go, and I can explain it later–”

Your head shook at him. Whatever sparked you to feel upset had been growing for a while. It had been growing since he started ditching you a few months prior. “That’s what you said last time.” There was hurt in your voice, and you know he heard it. 

“But I–”

“We promised to tell each other everything.” You recalled your childhood together, your friendship before you started growing up. The two of you had known each other since elementary school, so changes like this was inevitable. It wasn't fair to hold him to the same standards you used to. “But if you want to go, don’t expect me to be buddy-buddy when you get back.”

You remember how it felt to walk away, but you remembered how it felt to hear him leave even more. That was harmful. 

He was entitled to grow up, just as you were, but the shifty way he started growing distant from you got you overthinking. 

It got you nervous that maybe he was seeing someone, and that hurt more than anything else. Especially that he was hiding it from you. 

What sucked the most was that Peter wasn’t back soon, or even that night. 

In fact, he wasn’t even at the academic decathlon. 

Part of you was relieved to get space from him, seeing how difficult all these feelings were to process; another part worried about him, but every time your anxiety would fester, something would serve a reminder of why you were upset in the first place. 

You won the decathlon without him. As you should.

After that, your team went to the Washington Monument, and Ned swore that Peter would meet you all there. 

“Look!” Ned tried to convince you, tried to break your unamused expression. “His location says he’s almost here.” And the phone screen he flashed at you proved honesty. Peter was minutes away. 

Before you could muster a response, Ned’s screen changed, and Peter was calling him. 

There was an awkward exchange of glances between the two of you before Ned answered the call and you walked through the metal detectors. 

“Peter, are you okay?” You couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You missed a phrase or two while security patted down your blazer. All you caught was Ned muttering a subtle “I covered for you,” and then Liz Allen taking the phone from his hands. 

Something hollow carved into your stomach at the sight, and you began to speculate whether Liz was the girl he was sneaking off with or not. 

You didn’t wait to find out. You walked right into the elevator, joining the rest of your decathlon group. 

You didn’t remember much about the trip up the elevator, all you remember was light emitting out of Ned’s backpack and something radioactive blasting right into the roof of the cart. 

Suddenly, with trembling limbs and a newfound panic, your squabble with Peter Parker seemed more than minuscule. Regret was quick to fill that hollowing pit in your gut. 

You’d blacked out a lot of those scarce moments in the elevator. But you remembered when it was safe enough to move, the security guard began to open the hatch at the top of the elevator cart, and one by one help your classmates out. 

It wasn’t until there were four of you left in the elevator that it finally fell down the shaft towards your demise. There, in that Monument, you would die with Ned, Liz, and your teacher, Mister Harrington, you were sure of it. 

You’d never forget the relief you’d felt at the sight of red and blue rushing toward you, plummeting quicker than you were, and webbing your way to safety. 

It felt odd to look back on, knowing now that it was Peter who pulled that elevator up to your safety. How you were only concerned then with apologizing to Peter Parker, who glanced at you there from beneath that mask, completely unbeknownst to you. 

Once he’d gotten you up to the top of the Monument, Ned was the first to leap out to safety, then Mister Harrington. The two of them helped Liz get out, and to your luck, just as you took a step forward, the webs above you snapped. 

You and Spider–Man fell with a blood curdling scream breaking through you. 

“NO!!” He called after you, and quickly shot a web up to the roof again. His other arm reached out toward you, webbing your wrist rather quickly, keeping you from falling any further. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay– I got you. You're okay..” He told you, his tone as gentle and soft as you knew it to be; yet, not a single thought crossed your mind that it was Peter Parker. 

You shakily dangled beneath him as he tugged you up from that web. You fought to look up at him, to keep yourself from looking down; you fought to keep the tears at bay as the shock flooded from your system. 

The second your hands touched, he pulled you up and into him. You wasted no time before wrapping your arms around him, hugging him for dear life. And it made sense, now, why he felt so familiar—why his warmth was so comforting, and why his arm around your waist felt like it belonged there. 

He held you securely, lulling those reassurances to you, pulling the two of you up to safety at the top of that Monument. 

Just before he set you down, you held him tighter. “Pe–Peter!” You gasped, and felt every muscle beneath your hold tense. 

Now, you knew why. 

You pulled back from his arms, “Peter Parker, my– my best friend! He was on his way over here.” Your voice shook as you explained, but watching him carefully set you on the ground helped to steady yourself a little. “Can you make sure– Could you make sure that he’s okay?”

Looking back, the reason why Spider–Man gaped at you so long must’ve been Peter contemplating whether or not to tell you who he was right then and there. He stared at you, beneath that mask, for what felt like minutes. 

He gave a singular, upside down, nod. “I can do that, ma’am.” And his thick, Bronx, accent threw you off more than you wanted to admit. 

Then he fell down the empty shaft of the elevator. 

You’d never forget the moment he found you after that. 

You had just gotten out of the Monument. With a shaky hand, you went through your phone to track Peter’s location. It said he was a matter of meters from you, but you couldn’t spot him in the crowd. 

Just as you went to ask Ned, Peter’s voice hollered out, calling your name. 

Both of you turned in his direction, the crowd of people parting for him as he ran over to you, catching you in a bone–crushing hug. One of his hands cradled your head into his chest, and the other kept itself snug around your waist, just like Spider–Man had earlier. "I'm so glad you're okay.." He whispered it into your hairline, just for you to keep.

The world washed away in the arms of Peter Parker. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, too, hugging him effortlessly closer. Apologies from your argument the night before fell from your lips, and he also followed suit. 

You recalled that memory as something that defined how you and Peter operated—no matter what, you couldn’t stay mad at him. 

You would always find a way to forgive him. 

Now, remembering the incident was a bit more haunting. There was no telling how you and Peter would come back from this, nor just how long you’d go without each other.

And you didn't think Spider–Man would get you out of it, this time.

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog

comment for the part three tag list;)

read part three here.

[uhhhj13iguess]

go get her, kid

part 2 to oh my god, you, y-you look stunning

part three: impossible to behave around (smut no plot lol)

avenger!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: with the help of some friends, wandering eyes, and liquid courage, you and peter brave the stark gala

wc: ~2.1k

masterlist

part three gets smutty as all hell but here’s more buildup because the tension is arguably the best part anyway. not smut but still! mdni! all characters are in their 20s and everything is legal!

after sam and bucky got into the car, all tension quickly dissolved. between you and peter, that is. the second they made eye contact with the two of you, it was like they knew.

sam let out a chuckle, "well i was going to lend a compliment and say how nice you guys look, but something tells me you're both well aware already."

bucky barked out laughing at the comment, earning nothing but blushing cheeks from the two of you. you shifted slightly apart, glaring at the men in front of you. peter quickly went to start a conversation, hoping he could do anything to take the attention off of how obviously whipped he was coming off. jesus, this was going to be a long night.

after an agonizing car ride, you arrived at the venue and shuffled out of the far too cramped back seat. bucky slapped peter on the shoulder, throwing him a wink before heading up the walkway with sam.

peter took a deep breath and extended his arm out to you with a smile, beginning to lead you inside.

once at the doorway, he hesitated. you looked up at him with your eyebrows furrowed slightly, "nervous?"

he almost jumped at your words, turning to look down at you. he let out a breathy laugh, "y-yeah, actually. kind of. i've never been to anything t-this, this nice before."

you smiled and gave him a nod, "yeah, honestly me neither,"

you took a deep breath, moving your arm off of his and going to intertwine your fingers instead. the action, simple as it may be, ignited something in the both of you. "i think it'll be fun, pete. we got this."

he took a deep breath as well, smiling at you once more with a squeeze of your hand before opening the door.

yeah, he had every right to be nervous. the venue was gorgeous and huge. everyone was dressed to the nines, and despite wearing what the tony stark had picked for him, he somehow felt underdressed. the ceilings were adorned with the most intricate chandeliers he'd ever seen, the entire venue decked out in the latest nanobot technology stark enterprises was showing off to the world. it didn't feel real.

a man walked past them with a platter of champagne flutes and peter took his chance, using his left hand to snag two glasses off as the man made his way around, his right hand never letting go of yours. he turned to you to offer you a flute, a smile creeping on his face with pride at how fluid the action was.

"wow pete, how smooth." you smirked up at him, bringing the glass to your lips. he swallowed hard, having to look away from how you were looking up at him. calm down, peter. it's not even 8pm.

he took a large swig from his own glass, his ears perking up as he heard his name from across the room. he looked over to see sam, bucky, and tony bantering and looking in his direction. they all laughed as he made eye contact, tony giving him a soft wink with the raise of his glass.

peter cleared his throat, "hey, i uh, i think i'm going to go check in with mr. stark, y-you know, thank him, for all of this, i mean,"

you giggled at how nervous he was, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. "that's okay, i'm going to go find nat. i'll see you in a bit pete, don't have too much fun without me."

he let out a shaky breath as you parted from him, downing the rest of his flute before grabbing another and heading towards the man of the hour.

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

you made your way through the crowd to where nat and wanda were standing, both adorned in the most gorgeous gowns you've ever seen.

"jesus guys, save some men for the rest of us!" they both turned to you, laughing at your comment as they reached out for you.

"holy shit, (y/n), you look stunning!" wanda exclaimed, her eyes raking up and down your figure. you smirked.

"so i've heard. i can't remember the last time i wore something this expensive, honestly probably never." you let out a chuckle, finishing off the glass of champagne peter had given you. nat handed you another.

you all small-talked for a while, chatting about how excessively gorgeous the event was and how put together everyone looked. it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to you and peter.

nat took a swig of her flask. "i mean, come on (y/n). i can't believe neither of you have made a move yet. i can practically see the two of you undressing each other with your eyes"

you blushed at the comment, looking across the room to where peter was. "i don't know nat, he's never actually... said anything, or, i don't know. i'm worried i'm reading things wrong, and i don't want to be bold if i'm not one hundred percent, you know?"

"trust me, i do know. and i'll be a hundred percent for you: that man over there has already planned out at least ten different ways he's going to fuck you. not wants to, is going to."

you let out a breath, ripping the flask out of her hand and taking an impressively long drink. "let's hope so."

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

peter stands on the other end of the event space, initially to thank tony for the invite, and now cornered by sam and bucky who were absolutely dogging on him for the car ride over. peter was an absolute flustered mess, eyes entirely focused on the remaining bubbles in his glass.

"i mean jesus, pete. if you don't make a move on her tonight, i think i'm going to have to." bucky let out a hardy laugh.

the thought of bucky's hands on you caused peter's skin to boil. he grit his teeth, making eye contact with him and tightening his grip on his glass. foreign feelings of jealousy flooded his veins, and it wasn't until a hand hit his shoulder that he was knocked out of his haze.

"that's the energy i'm looking for. go get her, kid."

peter let out a huff, a nervous and airy laugh escaping his lips as he shakes himself out. he nodded to the guys, handing sam his now empty champagne glass and striding in your direction. he grabbed his now third flute, chugging it quickly while practically marching towards you.

you looked up to see peter bounding towards you, the urgency in his step making your legs go weak. you handed nat her flask back with a deep breath, the girls giving you smirks before turning and leaving you alone. not for long though, as the moment you turned around, you practically bumped your nose against peter's. jesus, when did he get over here so quick?

the proximity forced you to stand taller, willing your shaky knees to cooperate with you and begging yourself to maintain composure.

"hey pete, how's your night going?"

"good, yours?" he tapped his foot anxiously, summoning every ounce of courage he had in his body. he was spiderman, goddammit, he could do this.

"better now," you smiled at him with that devilish look in your eyes that made his summoned bravery obsolete, along with the air in his lungs. back under your trance, his eyes raked down your figure, lingering longer than he meant to at your cleavage. this earned a smirk from you.

"do you want to grab some air? i'm feeling a little… warm."

his eyes widened and he began to nod a little too feverishly, clearing his throat to collect himself. he knew what you meant. he could smell you.

"yeah, y-uh, yeah of course," he breathed out, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the exit of the venue. you gasped as the cool night air hit your body, practically sizzling against your hot skin.

peter looked at you, your hands still intertwined. this was it. he'd been dreaming of a moment like this for longer than he could remember, and it was finally happening. parker, don't fuck this up.

you ran down the stairs, pulling him along behind you. peter had to summon every bit of strength in his body to not stare at the way your chest was moving as you strung him along. he lost the battle, looking down and letting his jaw drop at the sight of your plush skin. he felt his whole body tense, his pants growing painfully tight. his focus was ripped off the view as he heard an "oh god".

he looked up to see happy staring at the two of you, obviously picking up on the vibe. he let out a defeated sigh. "headed back to the compound so soon?"

the two of you blushed, beyond flustered as he let out a stronger sigh.

"jesus fuck, tony's going to kill me. yeah, get in."

peter let out a laugh, pulling you towards the backseat of the car. you both scramble in, panting at the anticipation of the entire situation. he stared at you with wonder in his eyes, slowly leaning over you. okay parker, this is it. just kiss her. holyshitholyshitholyshit ho-

the driver's door slammed shut and happy turned around to look at you. you both whipped your heads in his direction, eyes wide.

"i'm keeping the privacy divider down. i'm not condoning this, i just don't want you driving yourselves. i can fucking smell the alcohol on the two of you. keep it pg back there or i'm calling tony myself."

while the drive itself was less than ten minutes, peter was sure hours had passed by. not being able to touch you was physically painful at this point. the moment he felt the car stop, he was out before he was even certain where he was. he didn't care. he just needed to be alone with you again.

you laughed at how needy peter was being as he practically dragged you from the car, thanking happy for the ride on your way out. he grumbled something about safe sex, driving off and leaving you alone with peter once again. peter turned to you and held out his hand, really really hoping he wasn't either reading this wrong or dreaming.

he pulled you inside and stopped to stare at you, bringing his hand up to your face. he grazed your cheek slightly and his touch made you feel high.

you bit your lip and he was hard all over again. you weren't able to stay in your trance for long, hearing footsteps down the hall from you. you grabbed him harshly, pulling him to the elevator and pressing the buttons rapidly as you both stifled your laughs, trying to get inside before you were caught by someone. finally, the doors opened, and something in peter snapped.

all inhibition peter had was gone in an instant, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you backward into the elevator. he pushed your back against the wall with more strength than he intended, panting as the elevator door closed and his brain was flooded with possibilities. he couldn't help it, he couldn't control himself anymore.

he moved his hands from your shoulders, leaning back to hit your floor number, not once averting eye contact.

he leaned back into you, placing his hands on either side of your head against the elevator wall. he leaned his body ever so slightly against yours, his forehead just grazing your own.

"please tell me i'm not reading this wrong before i really fuck up our friendship."

you smiled at him, your hands snaking up to back of his head and pulling him in eagerly. your lips smashed against his and peter moaned into the kiss, any reservations he had melting away at your touch.

his arms went limp as he relaxed into the kiss. he reached towards either side of your face, holding you tightly. kissing you was something he only dared to dream of, and now that it was happening, he never wanted it to stop. he kissed you harder, his body pressing even further into yours. he was a moaning mess against your lips, but you weren’t much better. everything about his lips on yours was better than you could’ve hoped for. you tugged at his curls, forcing a groan from him and you used it to your advantage as you slid your tongue into his mouth, exploring freely.

the elevator let out a soft ding!, signaling the door was opening. he pulled away, much to your dismay, and he stared at you in awe. as sexy as he was trying to be, his heart was absolutely swelling at the thought of him finally getting to kiss you. he couldn’t help but give you a shit-eating grin, hoping it wouldn’t detract from the confidence he hoped he was exuding.

but then you smiled at him, clearly expressing the same feeling, and the rush it gave him darkened his eyes instantly.

he grabbed you and pulled you down the hall to his room, letting you in and locking the door behind him.

part three coming soon babyyyyyyy

[mellowmadds]

Casual Study Dates | Peter Parker

(MCU) Peter Parker/Fem Stark Reader

Warnings - slightly suggestive

Summary - Avenger’s compound a usually busy place hustling with activity seems unusually quiet for the day. leaving y/n and Peter in a sticky situation (pun intended)

Word Count: 1,237

°°••....••°°

Avenger’s Compound, a place that’s usually bustling with activities and combat training sometime’s has quiet days like this where super-powered humans who have insanely intense hearing can hear a pin drop from across campus. For you though being one of the youngest on the team you hated those days because it seemed as if everybody always wanted to see what you were up to. You weren’t necessarily an avenger but you were extremely smart and helped out around the lab and worked on some Stark Industries projects with your dad every once and a while. And that’s how you met Peter Parker and during those first two years of awkward conversations and study dates you two seemed to find some comfort in all that awkwardness.

“Are you nervous about MIT sending out their decisions soon?” Peter asked while getting comfortable on your bed while staring out at the beautiful city view.

“Why would I be nervous Peter? Most of my family are MIT Alumni.” You said a bit cocky if you really think about it.

“I- know it’s just I figured maybe you’d be experiencing the same nerves I was. It was a stupid question nevermind sorry” Peter stuttered out.

“You don’t have to be sorry Peter and you definitely don’t have to worry my dad put in a good word about you. You’re one hundred percent getting into MIT” You told him confidently.

You knew Peter was an anxious person and you’d do anything to take his nerves away.

“Now are we going to keep stressing about MIT or are we going to figure out these formulas that Bruce gave us to solve?” You asked while holding up the stack of papers labeled ‘Top Secret Formulas’.

Peter nodded his head yes while lifting his body off your bed to instead sit on the edge of the bed closer to your desk where all of your work was scattered across your laptop.

“But first I need to put some music on or else I won’t be able to focus” You said before sliding the miscellaneous papers off your laptop.

“That’s the Stark in you talking, how can you focus better with music blasting in your ears?” Peter asked while laughing.

“I guess you are right, that is a classic trait of my dads. But it just helps me focus better. I don't know, I can't explain it.” You turned on your playlist before flipping to the first page of the stack of formulas Bruce assigned you to solve.

Your speaker was loud but who cares it’s not like anyone cared or was listening everyone was off doing their own things. The first few songs were upbeat and fun but the farther you got into your playlist the more guilty pleasure songs started playing, but Peter didn’t mind he was blocking out the music anyways so he could focus better on the formulas in front of him. What you didn’t know was that Steve and Nat were standing outside your room listening.

“Knee deep where? doing what?” Steve said worriedly looking over at Nat.

“It’s just a song Steve stop being so old-school” Nat smirked back at him.

“But Peter’s in there with her, what if they aren’t actually studying?” Steve asked as any worried uncle would.

“The song is talking about having relations in the bathroom during dinner time, that’s not appropriate Nat” Steve said firmly not accepting any excuse now.

Nat wasn’t interested in continuing this conversation any further and started walking toward the living quarters where there sat Bucky, Clint, Bruce and of course Tony.

“What’s got you so tense Cap? Your boyfriends right here if you have to relieve some tension” Tony laughed making fun of Steve and Bucky’s unusual bromance.

“I think you should worry more about what your daughter and Peter are doing upstairs” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“What? What are you talking about Cap? His vigilant ass better not be corrupting my innocent perfect daughter” Tony angrily stated as his face turned a shade of red nobody expected.

“They are listening to a song about having relations in the car and bathroom” Steve said pointing upstairs to your room.

“And you didn’t shut it down the moment you heard that? What kind of uncle are you?” Tony asked running up the stairs to take a listen for himself.

“Oh my gosh the lyrics are filthy but it sounds so calming, how does an artist achieve that?” Tony muttered under his breath before harshly knocking on your bedroom door and bursting in unannounced.

“What’s going on here?” Tony yelled loudly only to be met with a view of you sitting at your desk and Peter sitting on your bed leaning against the headboard with a textbook and stack of papers sitting on his lap.

“What dad? We are busy figuring out the formulas Bruce gave us. Why the hell is everyone crowding outside my room?” You asked, pointing towards Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint and Bruce all huddling in a circle outside your bedroom door.

“Well we heard the song you guys were listening to and were a bit concerned. You guys aren’t acting on those lyrics are you? You guys better not be under my roof” Tony questioned with a look of disgust on his face.

“What the hell are you going on about dad?” You asked looking over at Peter who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

“Are you guys having sexual relations?” Tony asked in disgust as your playlist suddenly skipped to the next song which would make your case even worse.

“Head so good, she's an honor roll she’ll ride your what like a carnival?” Tony repeated the lyrics.

“I am on the honor roll though, so it’s not entirely a lie” You replied back smirking like a smartass.

“This is not a laughing matter young lady, we are talking about something serious here, answer my question right now” Tony stated with a straight face not joking around anymore.

“Yeah we are and what about it?” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/n not in front of everybody” Peter said shyly.

“Who cares Peter they were going to find out sooner or later anyways, might as well just tell them now” You said looking back at everyone’s shocked faces. As you looked past your father behind him stood Bucky handing Clint a ten dollar bill.

“You guys had a bet going on about us?” Peter asked, looking back and forth between them but also keeping one eye on Tony just in case he might try to kill him.

“This conversation is not over and from now on this door stays open” Tony said sternly ignoring all the giggles and snarky remarks coming from his fellow avengers. Your playlist then starts playing a different song which lightens up the mood just a little.

“This one has a dance to go along with it, watch H-O-T-T-O-G-O it’s like the YMCA'' You said while doing the dance.

“I like doing the YMCA” Steve said, smiling now entering your room.

“Of course you do because you're ancient” Peter said jokingly.

As you can expect you didn’t think you’d be ending your day teaching Steve Rogers the Hot To Go dance however you wouldn’t trade the quiet days at the compound for anything because at the end of the day you’re just one big family and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[rosie-posie1313]

MCU Peter Parker Fic Recs II 🕷️

Masterlist 

PETER PARKER M.LIST by @devotion

Masterlist by @marvelouspeterparker

Masterlist  by @tomthesoftie

Peter Parker Masterlist by @heliads

Masterlist  by @vendettaparker

Oneshots 

Meeting Tony By @p3terparker

Breaking Windows By @duskholland

Places We Won’t Walk By ^

Bus ride By @chaoticparker

Hoodie By @ptergwen

something to remember me by by ^

Peter Parker being your boyfriend and when everyone finds out his identity by ^

Atoms By @stallingdemons

Dating Peter Parker Would Include..... By ^

Slowly in Love By @blissfulparker

Next Time By @the-bau-quinjet

The Reveal  by @cloudybarnes

Innocent Until Proven Guilty by @waitimcomingtoo

I Thought This Was A Closet Party by ^

7 Minutes by ^

Held By Me by ^

Disobedience by ^

Personal Pillow by @picassho-18

sneaking around by @starkscosmos

Finally found the way by @spideyyeet

peter parker x avenger!reader by ^

Nobody knows by @imgroot-iamsteverogers

Unexpected  by @skyahri

Tony finding out your dating Peter by @delicately-written

You’re Dating Her? By @lousimusician

Birth control  by @imaginingspiderman

Fake  by @spaceyaceface

Dating Peter Parker Would Include… by @lothalite

Dating Peter Parker Would Include… by @imaginesmai

Popular by @softspideys

Awkward Romancing by @wiccanz

Spidey Pajamas by @just-jordie-things

it’s a date! By @punani

Senior Trip by @fuxkingmarvel

Senior Trip 2 by ^

old married couple by @katahnisharma

Being Steve’s daughter and dating Peter would Include… by @marvelsswansong

Father (stark! daughter AU) part 1 by ^

Q&A by @living-dead-parker

Dating Peter Parker and being the daughter of the Avengers by @sapphireplums

Little things  by @mirrorballparkers

head in the books  by ^

The first time by @marvelouspeterparker

Shorty by ^

When Light Runs Out by @vampireoutofbusiness

Shaking Hands & Shallow Breath by ^

Flower boy by @lokissweater

Miss Rogers by @oldnatgwenaccount

protected, well enough by @har-rison-s

soft love  by @starkissedtom

pretty boy. By @earlgreydream

Wearing Your Clothes by @ezm-imagines

It Was Always You by @spider-manholland

early mornings by @hiraethparkers

ring pop  by @tinyyoungblood

hot chocolate by @lovelybarnes

Hostage by @xoxoavenger

Accidents Happen by @deniable-masterpiece

Rings, Rings, Rings by @vintagemulti

the spiderling  by @realtalkswithfinn

Unwanted  by @laurie-stark

The Baby Assignment  by @vendettaparker

Meet Cute Ugly by ^

Flirty bully coming your way by @fool-who-dreams

group hug by @mediocre-daydreams

Stark!Reader by @tomhollandfics

voice letters by @pvarker

Late nights sneaking in your bed by @sourcherryandsprinkles

Being Tony Stark’s Daughter and an Avenger Would Include … by @ynscrazylife

peter parker x (gn) stark!reader crush hcs by @fbfh

rogers!daughter x Peter Parker  by @parkers-gal

My Favorite Boy Barnes!reader by @rachaelswrites

Secrets by @lily-of-the-valley-writes

not so alone by @strangermarvelss

Red Light/Green Light by @webslingingslasher

A Boy?  By @maple-the-awesome

[itsalliny0urhead]

Close Quarters (mcu peter parker x stark!reader)

You and Peter Parker have been best friends since you met through the Stark internship when you were fifteen. Late-night pizza runs, sneaking out on weekends, falling asleep on the couch together — he's always been there. But somewhere along the way, friendship started to feel like something more.

You know your dad would kill you if he found out. But the way Peter’s hands curl around your waist and the way his lips taste — it might be worth the fallout.

mcu peter parker x stark!reader

"Again."

Your chest heaved as you wiped the sweat from your brow, twirling your staff between your fingers in a smooth, practiced motion. Across from you, Peter Parker reset his stance, his hair damp with sweat and curling against his forehead. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his clingy shirt, but that boyish grin — the one that made your stomach flip — hadn’t wavered.

The training room was dimly lit, the low blue glow of the arc reactors lining the walls casting soft shadows across the reinforced floor. It smelled like sweat and metal, the cool bite of recycled air clinging to your skin. The hum of the Tower’s systems pulsed faintly beneath your feet.

You’d been at this for nearly an hour, and the ache in your muscles was settling in. Peter still looked like he could go another round — because of course he could. Enhanced strength, enhanced stamina — he always had the edge. But you’d learned to close that gap over the years.

"You're slowing down, Parker," you said, twirling the staff behind your back.

Peter’s grin widened. "Oh yeah? Wanna bet?"

He moved fast — too fast.

Peter lunged, his foot skidding across the mat as he closed the gap between you. You barely had time to sidestep as he swung low. Your staff shot up, blocking his strike with a sharp clash of metal against metal. Peter pressed forward, the strength behind his movement forcing you to step back.

Your foot caught the edge of the mat, and Peter smirked.

Cocky little shit.

You twisted, sweeping your leg behind his ankle and hooking it just enough to unbalance him. Peter’s eyes widened, but you were already moving. You hooked your staff under his arm and twisted. Peter stumbled — and you used his momentum to slam him down onto the mat.

Peter groaned as he hit the ground, his head thunking softly against the padded floor. You planted your foot next to his hip, the end of your staff pressed firmly against his chest.

"Yield?" you asked, breathless.

Peter’s brown eyes flicked toward you, mischief glinting behind the haze of exhaustion. His hand shot out, catching your wrist. Before you could process what was happening, he yanked — hard.

"Peter—!"

You crashed down on top of him with a breathless gasp, your knees bracketing his waist. Your staff slid from your grip, clattering against the mat. Peter’s hands were suddenly on your waist, steadying you. Your hands flattened against his chest, feeling the heat radiating off him through his shirt.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Too fast. Too loud. You were so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. His lips were slightly parted, his breath warm against your cheek.

"Not yet," Peter murmured, his voice low and breathless.

You froze. His hands were still on your hips — not moving, but not letting go either. Your skin burned beneath the pressure of his fingertips, and your pulse stumbled when his thumb brushed the bare skin beneath your shirt.

You’d met Peter through the Stark internship when you were fifteen. You’d been guarded at first, used to people treating you like you were untouchable because of your last name. But Peter didn’t care about any of that. He was awkward and sweet and way too smart for his own good. And once he figured out that you were just as smart as him, the two of you had clicked instantly.

You became inseparable — sneaking out on weekends to hit up late-night pizza joints in Queens, making dumb bets during sparring, falling asleep watching movies together in the Tower. He was your person — the one person who had always been there, even when Tony wasn’t.

But that was the problem.

Tony would kill you if he knew how long you’d been crushing on Peter. The last time he’d caught you sitting too close on the couch, he’d nearly had FRIDAY restrict Peter’s clearance levels. And that was before Peter started showing up at the Tower almost every day — before you started noticing the way his shoulders had broadened, the way his smile made your chest ache.

Peter’s gaze dropped to your mouth. Your breath hitched.

"You’re cheating," you whispered.

Peter’s smile softened. His hand slid up, fingers brushing the edge of your ribcage. His touch was feather-light, but your entire body lit up like he’d flipped a switch beneath your skin.

"And you’re blushing," Peter murmured.

Your stomach flipped. He was too close. Or maybe not close enough.

Your lips parted, your breath hitching when Peter’s thumb swept across your side. His hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing the bare skin of your waist. Heat pooled in your chest.

Your eyes narrowed. "Shut up."

Peter’s gaze flicked toward your lips. Your heart slammed against your ribs.

And then you kissed him.

It was clumsy at first — rushed and a little too hard — but Peter gasped softly beneath you, and his hands tightened on your waist. He kissed you back with so much intensity it left you breathless. His hand slid up your spine, his fingertips tracing heat into your skin as his mouth softened beneath yours.

A quiet sound slipped from his throat when you threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging gently. Peter’s breath stuttered. He pulled you closer, one hand curving around the small of your back, the other sliding up beneath your shirt. His palm was warm, the contact setting your nerves alight.

You deepened the kiss, tilting your head as his lips parted beneath yours. He tasted faintly of salt and something sweet — like the grape soda he’d been drinking earlier. His hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing behind your ear in a way that made your entire body shiver.

Peter made a low sound in his throat — something between a sigh and a groan — and suddenly you were rolling, his hands framing your face as he hovered over you. His knee slid between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make your breath stutter.

"Is this okay?" Peter murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

You nodded, breathless. "Yeah."

Peter smiled. It was soft — careful — but there was something hungry beneath it. His hand slid down your side, his mouth brushing against the corner of yours before he kissed you again. Slow this time. Deliberate.

You melted into it, letting him take control. His lips moved with quiet confidence, his hand splaying against the side of your neck as he coaxed your mouth open. Your hand curled in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as he kissed you harder.

It was too much and not enough. His weight pressed down over you, grounding you even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. Your head was spinning.

When you finally broke apart, Peter’s face was flushed, his eyes dark. His lips were swollen and red.

"So…" Peter said, his voice rough. "Training's over?"

Your mouth curled. "For now."

Peter grinned — that soft, sweet grin that always made you feel like the ground beneath your feet was shifting. "Cool. Do you wanna… uh, maybe train again tomorrow?"

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up — but not before brushing your lips against his one last time. Peter’s gaze followed you as you crossed the room, his mouth parted in stunned silence.

At the door, you glanced over your shoulder. "We’ll see."

Peter’s smile widened. Your chest felt too tight.

This was a problem.

You slipped out of the training room, your hand pressed to your lips as heat bloomed beneath your skin. Your dad was going to kill you.

But it might be worth it.

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

After Mission (Steve Rodgers x Reader)

Avengers Tower Fic

After a rather rough mission, the Avengers dragged themselves back to the Avengers Tower. Steve was running his hand through his tousled hair, wiping the sweat off of his brow. He was exhausted. Tony desperately wanted to crash, and the second he reached the couch, that was exactly the thing he did. Meanwhile, Natasha was peacefully cleaning off her gun in the kitchen with a nice cloth. Bruce slunk into his room to take a shower. Clint had already disappeared, there was no telling where he went. In the pantry, Thor was hiding out with a bag of chips, crunching nonchalantly as he put another handful into his mouth. Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the wall, only mildly traumatized. You were tired as you walked in with the rest of them. It’d been tough, and you were about ready to cuddle up in bed and watch a bad rom-com. 

“Hey, you okay?” Steve asked you, his tone gentle and soft. Tony had taken facepalming to a whole other level, and was laying face-down on the couch. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you nodded, looking at Steve. Natasha smirked at the sight. You would normally be mocking Tony or laughing, lightening the mood after a mission like this. But you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you seemed more…enraptured. With Steve. “How are you?” you asked him.

“I’m doing fine,” he smiled sweetly at you. Natasha snorted. 

You turned to her. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Natasha smirked cryptically, picked up her gun that she’d just finished cleaning, and walked away. 

“...okay,” you said. You turned back to Steve. “I’m gonna take a shower, okay?”

Steve nodded, “Sounds good.” 

You put an encouraging hand on his shoulder, then smiled and walked away from him. His eyes followed you as you walked a way, a soft twinkle in his eye. Peter squinted his eyes at him, analyzing his actions. Thor noticed this, chuckling and chomping loudly on his chips. “I’d surmise that Sir America has caught feelings,” he snickered to Peter. 

“You’re sure? ‘Cause I was only like, 34 percent certain,” Peter whispered back to Thor. He had a much better grasp on noise control than Thor did. 

Thor laughed. “Ohh, yes. I know a man in love when I see one.”

“Have much experience with that, do you, Thor?” Natasha asked, appearing beside him.

“How the heck…?” Peter muttered. 

Thor was unfazed. “Well, I’m a man.”

Natasha laughed. “Your Asgardian sense of humor is horrific.”

Thor shrugged and put another fistful of chips into his mouth and crunched them loudly. Natasha made a face and walked away. 

— — —

About a half an hour later, you had finished your shower and taken care of your hair, you walked out of your room in your pajamas to grab something you’d left downstairs. As you were walking, you passed by Steve’s room, and stopped. Maybe you should check in on him. Yeah, that’d be good to do. You knocked on his door. 

A moment later, the door opened, and Steve was standing there. “Hi, there,” he smiled. 

“Hi,” you replied, a smile on your face too. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Steve nodded. “Do you wanna come in…?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you walked into the room. Inside, his room was immaculate. You didn’t think you’d seen a better made bed in Bed, Bath and Bodyworks. His lamp was on, but other than that, all the lights were off. A book sat on the nightstand, a bookmark about three-quarters of the way through. The carpet looked like it’d been recently vacuumed, and there was no clutter on his desk. He had a view framed photos of the Avengers, including one with you in it, and an organized pen container. “You’re very neat,” you commented. 

Steve chuckled. “Well, I try.” 

“I’m serious, I don’t think I’ve seen a more well-made bed before in my life,” you laughed. “I’m scared to touch it, it looks like it comes from a Home and Wellness magazine.” 

Steve seemed amused by your comment. “You don’t have to be scared of touching the bed, I remake it every morning anyway.” 

“Okay,” you said casually as your eyes glazed over the room. You sat down carefully on the bed, looking all around you. It was like a glimpse into the inside of his brain. And the inside of his brain looked very clean. 

Steve laughed. “Well, thank you. I think. I don’t know how accurate that is.”

You realized you’d said this aloud. “Oh. Oh.” You laughed awkwardly. “Sorry.” 

Steve shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He sat down beside you on the bed. You noticed how bare his walls looked.

“You don’t have anything hanging up?” you asked. 

Steve shook his head. “Haven’t found anything I wanted to hang up yet. I don’t wanna hang it up unless I love it. I mean, you’re looking at the same thing every day, right? May as well be something you really care about.”

“That makes sense,” you nodded. 

“I do want something, though.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It’d be nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You leaned against him a little, head resting on his shoulder. He tried to bite back his smile, despite the fact that you couldn’t see his facial expression right now. He hesitated for a moment—he hasn’t dated since the forties, and you make him nervous—before resting his hand gently on your knee. Your expression softened at the gesture, and you closed your eyes, letting out a soft hum of contentment. 

Steve was surprised and how easily you became comfortable with him, but he had no qualms about it. So he sat there with you, hand resting on your knee, and your head on his shoulder. Deciding to take a risk, he turned his head slightly to kiss the top of your head affectionately. The affectionate movement made you smile.You lifted your head with a playful smirk, and asked softly, “What was that for?”

Steve’s face turned a little pink, but he tried to play it off. “I don’t know, I…just did it, I guess.”

You laughed. “Don’t worry. I think it’s cute.”

Steve chuckled. “You think it’s cute, huh?” 

You kissed his cheek in response. That surprised him. Again, not dating since the 1940s does slightly impair your perception of romance. He turned to face you more fully, and his lips met yours. He found himself kissing you, and he found you kissing back. If he knew all it took to get you this close was acting tired and sad after a rough mission, he would’ve done it a helluva lot sooner. 

The kiss grew more passionate, a little more heated. You were now leaning against him as he leaned back against the pillows on his bed. You were fully caught up in the moment, losing all perception of the world around you. 

…which was probably why you didn’t hear Tony come in. 

“Hey, Steve, do you know where th—holy hell,” Tony looked rather amused. Your head shot up and you immediately backed away from Steve. Steve did the same, like adding space between yourselves was going to make Tony forget what he just saw. Tony was laughing at your surprised and nervous expressions. “Oh, man!” He clapped his hands and laughed again. “I mean, we were all starting to suspect things, but daaaaaamn.” 

Steve groaned at Tony’s childish behavior and covered his face with his hands. You bit your lip, not really sure what to do.

“Alright, Steve, do you know wh—actually, I don’t think you know much of anything right now. I’ll see you later, Americas,” Tony winked and left the room, closing the door behind him. You blushed and sat there awkwardly. 

“It’s just Tony,” Steve said quietly, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah, but he’s gonna tell everybody,” you pointed out.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t mind people knowing,” he said gently, trying to comfort you. 

“I don’t either, I just…kind of like just getting to be with you.”

He smiled softly. “I like getting to be with you too.” He reached for your hand, and you let him take it. “Tony doesn’t have to stop us from spending time together, y’know.”

“True,” you smiled back, and he pulled you closer to him, bringing you into his arms and bringing his lips back to yours. 

— — —

When you walked downstairs in the morning, Tony greeted you with a cheerful, “Hello, Mrs. America.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked away from him, heading into the kitchen. Thor was there, enjoying a bagel. “‘Morning, Thor. How’s it going?”

“Quite well, Star-Spangled Sweetheart,” Thor replied with a smirk. 

You groaned. “You too? Seriously?” 

Thor shrugged, smirking happily. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being Cap’s red, white, and boo.”

You made a disgusted face. “Gross nickname. Seriously. Where are you coming up with these? Is Tony handing out lists of things to call me??”

“Not exactly, but that’s not an unreasonable guess,” Thor answered, smiling. 

You snorted. “Jesus.”

“Language,” Peter said as he walked in the room. “Or does Cap tell you that enough already?” Thor laughed heartily and high-fived Peter, who looked very proud of himself for impressing Thor with his joke. 

“That’s right,” Thor chortled. “She’s Cap’s Cutie now.” 

“What?” you exclaimed. “Look, I’m not even…I haven’t been on a date with him yet, okay? Give me a break. Can’t I just, I don’t know, kiss a guy that I like?” 

“You are more than welcome to kiss any guy that you like,” Thor informed. “We reserve our right to tease you about said guy.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Capsicle’s crush,” Clint smirked at you. 

“Wowwww,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Soooo creative. I’ve never heard anything like this at all this morning.”

“How many people have talked to you?” Clint asked, amused. 

“Lemme see… Tony, Thor, you, oh, and Peter. Peter has even talked to me about it this morning,” you answered, clearly a little bitter. 

Tony came into the kitchen and picked up an orange, beginning to peel it. When he saw you, he smirked. “Well, if it isn’t the Vibranium Vixen.” 

You looked at him with an exasperated expression. “Where do you even come up with these??”

“He’s Tony, he nicknames everybody constantly,” Natasha said with a shrug, picking up at bagel. “But seriously, you like Cap?” 

“Well, yeah, but they’re making it seem like it’s a big deal when I’d really, really rather just go at my own pace and see where it goes,” you said. 

“That’s fine,” Clint said. “Why would you tell Natasha that but not us?”

“‘Cause y’all are calling me things like ‘Star-Spangled Sweetheart’ and ‘red, white, and boo’,” you answered, agitated. 

Clint bursted out laughing. “Wait, what?? Who said those??” Thor raised his hand with a proud smile, and Clint laughed again. 

Steve walked in, and Tony started giggling. 

“Oh, shit. What’d I do?” he asked. 

Then a collective chorus from everyone in the kitchen exclaimed, ��LANGUAGE!”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Ridiculous. All of you.”

“Not me though, right?” you asked teasingly. 

“Nope, not you,” he grinned. 

“Awwwwww…” chorused the other Avengers. 

“Go mind your own damn business,” you said playfully, and waved them off. ‘Cause in the end, as long as you and Steve were happy, that was all that mattered. 

[luvhotchner]

sleepover - avengers

summary: peter and y/n want a sleepover and decide to annoy the whole team.

warnings/pairings: platonic!avengers x fem!stark!reader, swearing, use of y/n, gen z’s being gen z’s, y/n flirting with bucky?

i’m in a writing mood for marvel, so send em my way! i also added scott lang to this one!

[m00ngirl777]

Baby Kiss It, Better

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...13

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

summary: Patching him up, ANGST, bby boy was shot and hes scared.

A/N: I kinda had in mind like Tobys and Andrews stories obviously, and I just feel like Peter would blame himself forever for not doing more or not being there, and getting shot for the first time ever would trigger something like this, poor baby boy needs a hug and a kiss...anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333

tw: blood, wounds, death, guns.

wc: 1569

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

Seeming perfectly alive standing right in front of you, lifted a little weight of your chest, instantly replaced with something worse when you noticed he might not be as well as you thought. He struggled to catch his breath and kept tripping on nothing, his hand never leaving his side, you quickly scrambled to him, the previously serene ambient long gone.

“Peter? Are you okay?” You tried steadying him, hands trying to hold him upright, “talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” 

He tried taking his mask off and failed completely, falling on his knees and then back on his ass, grunting to take his mask off, breathing hard, his hand left a print of blood in the carpet making you gasp out loud. You went to kneel beside him, helping him with his mask, helping him get it off, revealing the look on his face matching that of a scared, hurt, little kid, breaking your heart.

Sweat, blood, dirt, and tears were on his face, along with that look, he was still grasping his side, you went to place your hand over his, trying to push it away lovingly to see what was wrong, cradling his head, pushing away his hand, your heart stopped seeing the shot wound. 

“Oh my God, Peter…fuck, baby talk to me please, what happened?” You pledged for him to make you understand the scene, but he was quiet, traying to catch his breath, his head fell back on the carpet, he closed his eyes. 

“Peter, I need you to stay awake,” You grabbed his face and gently shook it, needing him to keep his eyes open, feeling and being grateful for finding an exit wound, he just needed a patch. 

“Baby, I’m gonna go get the kit, just a minute, yeah?” You said, going to stand up, to with he grasped at your arm hard, panicking, pleading with his eyes, “I’m right here… baby, breath, look at me, I am right here… just going to the kitchen… one minute Peter… you're still bleeding…please,” So unwillingly you pushed his hands away, running to the kitchen for what you needed, then running back to him, with shaking hands first thing you pushed his suit dow to his hips, grabbed the alcohol from the kit and splashed your hands before throwing gloves on. 

“This is gonna burn, baby, I’m sorry,” You poured on the wounds, he groaned, one hand on your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a nasty bruise, “I know, I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” You scrambled thinking of what to de. Everyone was out on a mission, it was two in the morning, there was no one on call, you hoped and begged to a greater force that internally he was fine, and that it was just the enter and exit wounds you needed to worry about. 

Peter healed too fast for stitches, so you grabbed some of the special glue that had been synthesized for him, that dissolved as he clotted and other medical whatnot, squeezing some into the edges of the wound then going to squeeze to push it all together, his hand on your thigh moved to your arm, if he grabbed your a little harder you're sure he’d break something. 

“Just a little more, baby, i know it hurts,” You repeated the process with the exit wound, now making sure both openings were sticked closed, stopping the bleeding. With some cotton and more alcohol you cleaned around the wounds, Peter relaxing back, silent tears falling from the corners of his eyes, you knew for a fact this couldn’t have hurt him this much, not physically, there was something else. 

Letting the painful silence settle, you patched the wounds, with gauze then tape so he could maybe take a shower, just thinking of how to make him feel better, he was still, and quiet, the tears had stopped, an empty look in his eyes. 

“Baby, please talk to me,” You raked fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, lip trembling again, as he weakly shook his head no, shattering your heart. 

“Can you stand?” He nodded, “okay, I’ll help you sit up, 1…2…” You helped him get up into a sitting position, he groaned. You stood up and pulled him with you, successfully getting him to stand up, leaning on you. 

You looked back down at the mess of gauze, gloves, the scattered contents of the kit, blood everywhere, stench of alcohol, and a carpet you'll have to replace, making your stomach turn. You walked him to your bathroom, setting him on a counter, drawing the loveliest of baths for him, you helped him undress, stripping him of everything, the lost and scared look in his eyes, momentarily changed for a flustered one as he stood naked in your bathroom, letting you walk him and sit him in the warm bath like he was a little kid, but soon went back to empty. 

You scrubbed and washed his body, the water darkening slightly, you washed his hair, and he closed his eyes, letting out a breath, frowning softly, face riddled with something you couldn’t point… guilt…pain…remorse…and so on.

“Please talk to me Peter… I’m terrified,” Soft fingers played with his wet curls. He shrugged gently, not being able to find anything to say. 

“I got shot,” He said, after a long pause. 

“I know…why?” he glared at you, then closed his eyes, the look on his face worsening. You took a deep breath, then pulled the plug to drain the tub, you helped him get up, rinse, and get out. You wrapped him in a big fluffy towel, drying him, careful with the wounds, wrapped in the towel you dragged him to your bed, sitting him down. You went to your closet and brought back a pair of boxers for him. 

“Can you get these on?” You asked, handing them to him as he nodded, you climbed in bed as he got them on, dropping the towel, before slightly struggling to get in bed, he sat back in the headboard, letting you pull the covers over his legs, eyes still empty, head somewhere else. 

“I’ve never been shot before…” he said in the smallest voice, tears welling up in his eyes.

He was scared.

“Baby…” You cupped his face, hugging him carefully, “It must’ve hurt so much… and the sound… I’m so sorry…” 

“I-I’m okay…” He looked down, the tears in his eyes falling, he squeezed your arm, trying to talk.

“M-my…” His face scrunched in a quiet sob, you wiped his tears with your thumbs, kissing his temple, pulling away to look at him, trying to understand, he sniffled.

“My… my uncle… was s-shot…he died… when I was 14…” He squeaked the last bit out, sobs wrecking through him as you brought him in, and suddenly everything made sense, he wasn’t just scared, he was sorry. 

“I… I looked for the guy…for weeks…I had him…I wanted him dead…I-I couldn’t… h-he stabbed me in the leg… got a-away…but now I… now I know what he felt…and he was all alone…” The sobs came back, and your heart broke further for Peter, tears of your own starting to sting your eyes. 

“You were just, a boy, baby… it wasn’t your call…there’s no way it could ever be your fault…even if there’s something you could’ve done… it’s not your responsibility” He held on to you, and your sweet words he wanted to believe, that his tortured savior complex wouldn’t let him. 

“Let me see… it was on this one?” You placed your hand over his left thigh, he had calmed down, sobs stopped, he looked sad, exhausted more than anything. He nodded, looking away and closing his eyes, you pushed his boxers up, feeling and scanning for the scar, when finally right at the side of his upper thigh you felt it, he bit his lip, not wanting to keep sobbing like a child. 

“Peter, you’re a hero… but you’re human…sadly, there’s not a single thing you could’ve done… we make choices, and I am so sorry the choices all the people around you made that night hurt you this much… but this is not your fault, baby…” You rubbed gently on the scar, and leaned down slowly, placing a feather like kiss on it, making him let out a quiet sob.

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve lost,” You kissed it again.

“And I promise to always make sure you know that it wasn’t your fault,” You placed another kiss, sitting back up, to look in his eyes. 

“I love you, Peter, and I will always be here to remind you of that” You kissed his lips, sealing your promise, to always love every part of Peter, even the ugliest darkest scars life has left on him.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY I GOT MY DREAM DOG TODAY! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland's Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

Hey! Congrats on your dog. Since there wasn't much details about Tony, I added my own take to round out the scene. Hope it's what you wanted.

--------------©®©®©®©®©®-------------

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Unconscious Reader, Peter Crying, Protective Dad Tony Stark, Med bay Recovery.

Summary → After you fall unconscious in battle, Peter falls apart, Tony holds it together.

The battlefield was silent now, but Peter’s panic only got louder.

Smoke drifted from the collapsed building where you’d saved him. Shielding him from a surprise drone blast with your own body.

Now you lay in his arms, motionless, blood trickling from your forehead.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered, his voice barely holding together. “C’mon, baby. Please. Wake up.”

He pressed trembling fingers against your neck. Your pulse was weak. Your breathing shallow.

“Karen! G-get Mr. Stark. Now!”

“Message sent,” the AI replied gently. “Help is on the way, Peter.”

He cradled you tighter, his chest heaving with sobs. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Don’t—don’t make me live in a world without you.”

Within minutes, the Quinjet thundered in overhead.

And Iron Man, Tony Stark, your father, landed like a meteor, the suit clanging hard against the concrete. The moment he saw you in Peter’s arms, he froze.

The suit’s mask retracted.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked. “What the hell happened?!”

Peter looked up, eyes swollen red. “She saved me. I—I didn’t see the drone, and she—she just jumped in front of me—”

Tony didn’t wait. He knelt beside you, armor hissing open as he scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing. His eyes were bloodshot. Wide. Terrified.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”

The suit’s gauntlet trembled slightly where it touched your back.

Tony didn’t cry, but he was close.

“Get your ass in the jet, Parker!” he barked, voice cracking. “Bruce is on standby.”

Peter stumbled in behind him, hands shaking as he sat beside the stretcher. Tony worked with Bruce to stabilize you, his fingers flying over your suit like a man possessed.

The Quinjet hummed beneath them, slicing through the sky.

And in the quiet, when Tony and Bruce were distracted, Peter leaned in close. His forehead touched your temple, and his voice came out in a breathless, broken whisper:

“Please… I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

Peter never let go of your hand.

“She’ll be okay,” Bruce said gently, as your vitals started climbing. “She’s stabilizing.”

But Tony didn’t breathe. Not really.

Not until the Quinjet touched down at Avengers Tower and you were rushed into the med bay.

---

Hours Later – Avengers Tower Med Wing

The room was quiet.

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air. Monitors beeped in a steady rhythm. And Peter…

Peter was passed out in the chair beside you, head resting near your arm, your hand still in his.

His eyes were puffy. His curls were a mess. But he hadn't let go, not even for a second.

You stirred, eyelashes fluttering, and let out the softest groan.

His head shot up like he’d been electrocuted.

“Y/N?” His voice was hushed, disbelieving.

Your lips were dry, and your voice rasped out. “Hey…”

Tears welled up in his eyes again. “Oh my God, you’re awake! Thank God—”

You tried to smile. “You look like crap.”

He let out a watery laugh, swiping his cheek. “Rude. I’ve been sitting here crying over you, you heartless woman.”

You squeezed his hand. “I heard you.”

Peter’s face froze. “W-What?”

“I think I heard you,” you whispered. “On the jet. You said…”

His cheeks went scarlet.

“You said you loved me.”

“…Yeah,” Peter admitted softly. “I did. I do.”

You blinked up at him, still a little loopy from the meds, but your smile turned real. Warm. “Good.”

He leaned down, brushing his forehead to yours gently. “Can I kiss you? I’ve been dying to.”

You reached up, weakly, but enough.

He kissed you like he meant it. Soft, reverent, shaky with relief. Like he’d just gotten you back from the dead.

Your fingers curled gently in his shirt, holding him there. The kiss lingered longer… a little longer…

Ahem.

Both of you jolted as a very pointed throat clear echoed through the room.

Tony stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised so high it might’ve hit the ceiling.

“She just woke up from almost dying, Underoos,” he said, tone dry as a desert. “You can suck her face later.”

Peter scrambled back like he’d been hit with a taser, cheeks instantly on fire. “Mr. Stark! I—I wasn’t—we weren’t—”

Tony held up a hand. “Save it. I saw the liplock. I’ve seen worse. I’ve done worse.” He walked toward the bed and looked down at you, eyes softening. “You scared the hell outta me, kiddo.”

Your smile was sleepy. “Sorry, Dad.”

Tony’s hand touched your hair. “Don’t do it again.”

“Noted.”

He looked at Peter, then at you, then back again. “I’ll give you two a minute. But next time I walk in on anything steamier than forehead kisses, I’m installing security lasers in your bedroom.”

Peter looked like he was about to faint.

Tony smirked. “Love you, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead and strolled out, whistling like he hadn’t just ruined Peter’s entire life.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[deathbyathousandspiders]

let me down slowly. ₃

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part three.

IN WHICH a few days have passed since the attack & finding out peter's super secret, but will peter find a way to earn your forgiveness?

author's note — highly recommend reading the first two parts! i love writing song prompts, they are too yummy !!!!!

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — reader gets hurt, reader has lowkey PTSD, mentions of knife, angst to fluff<3

read part one | part two here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Walking through the bustling city of New York never ceased to amaze you, especially at sunset. The pink tickling between buildings, the rush of people flooding the sidewalks, and the steps you and Peter took in time back to your apartment. 

It was just barely past six on that Friday evening, and you could feel the gentle rumble of your stomach at the thought of being welcomed by your Father’s cooking. 

A smile touched your lips as Peter echoed your unspoken words. 

“I wonder what he’s making tonight.” He voiced, glancing your way as you walked together. “I’m hungry just thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement, hands placed over your stomach at the thought. “Stop, I’m too excited.” Tony was an excellent cook, and exceptional at surprises. You knew whatever he had in store tonight would be divine. “I saw salmon in the fridge so I wonder if—”

Peter stopping dead in his tracks startled you. He practically froze, like he was witnessing something of insanity in front of him. Glancing at where his eyes were focused, you found nothing of the sort. 

“Peter?” Concern bled from your voice. You couldn’t help it. He looked like he could feel every hair on his body stand upright. It was unsettling. 

Meeting your eyes, his brows knit together to create a look of sympathy. Apology. “I–uh, I forgot something at the school!” The words were practically blurted. 

Your own brows knit together, not in remorse, but in confusion. “Can’t you just get it on Monday?”

He shook his head. “I can’t–” The dread in his voice—the sudden breathless panic lacing each syllable he spoke—confused you, more than you knew how to say. “It’s important. I–I have to go.”

“You’re leaving?” It wasn’t an accusation more than a statement, but he could hear the undertones of what you implied. 

The look on your face read that the two of you had been here too many times before. 

He took paces towards you. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll be there for dinner.” And Peter gave you a hug. The grip to his embrace was puzzling. He didn’t seem to want to let you go. 

“You promise?”

Peter pulled back to meet your eyes, and every unspoken word shared between the shared glances told you that he meant every ounce of endearment to his reply: “I promise.”

And with that, he slipped away from you and back the way you’d walked from. 

As you kept walking to your apartment, part of you realized how difficult it was to believe him. He always ran off with some crazy excuse, and it never felt honest. Another part of you realized that you should probably ask him about it before you worried yourself sick. 

A bystander approaching you caught you off balance. 

“Y/N Stark?” They asked, something like excitement caught their tongue. “I’m a big fan of your father’s work. Would it be alright to get your autograph?”

A bizarre ask, but it wasn’t the first time. You smiled politely, nodding your head as you grabbed the pen they’d offered. “Sure! I appreciate it.”

Your hand flew elegantly across the photo of you and your father held towards you, signing your name on the bottom right corner. 

When you went to hand the pen back, they grabbed your wrist with a force that told you how stupid you’d been. 

“Don’t struggle or I’ll make this hell for you.” A threat, and it seemed nothing empty. As they forced you down the sidewalk beside them, you tried to assess what they were wearing; what was on their person and what kind of threat they’d be. 

A matted handle of a knife beside their pocket made your blood race a little faster. 

They tugged you into an alley off the sidewalk, secluded from sight, and threw you into the brick wall to the left of it. The texture scraped down your body as you tried to catch your balance, but you fell onto your back and into the pavement as the man laughed. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

It was tantalizing, and surely something that would haunt you, but you couldn’t help but fight. You glared up at the man, hoping the look in your eye held something sharper than the blade he drew from his pocket. 

As he paced closer, you were suddenly grateful for all the close quarter combat that Sam and Natasha had taught you. 

Once he was close enough, just as he went to slash his weapon at you, you kicked between his legs with as much force as you had before locking your foot behind his right knee and pulling it towards you. He fell to the ground with a groan, swinging his knife aimlessly in your direction. You couldn’t tell if he’d missed or not—adrenaline wouldn’t let you feel it just yet. 

Your knee met his jaw before you rolled away from him. You attempted to run from the alley, but his slime grip caught your ankle and yanked you back towards him. It was a pathetic yelp that left your lips, but you couldn’t help it. 

Everything in you tried not to believe the words he’d spat at you. You couldn’t give up, you couldn’t end like this. 

Your feet kicked at him, even though you couldn’t see. You tried to flip over, catching the direct moment that your left foot met his face and challenged him back. 

You managed to stand and run before you could look back, but you couldn’t get far. Somehow, you realized the alleyway was longer than you’d remember. Suddenly, his hands were over your mouth and muffling screams; his knife was at your stomach, and all he said was the same phrase. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark—”

You’d never felt the stronger need for oxygen than what ripped you from slumber. 

Heave after heave, you had to remind yourself that you weren’t dreaming anymore. The nightmare was over. You made it out. You were safe. 

You were only left splintered with the feeling. Paranoia. 

Ever since the attack, and finding out that Peter Parker was Spider–Man, you’d been getting frequent nightmares. Whether the wicked dreams were flashbacks to getting jumped, or some memory with Peter that haunted your sleep, they varied each time your eyes shut. 

Immediately, you sat up, turned your bedside lamp on, grabbed your cell phone, and dialed the first number you could think of. You left no room for panic. 

It didn’t even take five seconds before he answered. 

“Hello?” 

“I had another one.” The first four words you could mutter, the only information you’d spare. It was just another nightmare, another reason to call him. It was not forgiveness. 

Not yet, at least. 

You brought your knees to your chest beneath your blankets, running your fingers across your cloth–covered calves. It grounded you from lingering scarcities, and kept you from oversharing. 

You were still upset with him and your father for what happened four days ago. Not even a nightmare would shake the betrayal from your bones. 

The sound of Peter Parker’s empathy was unspoken across the call, yet pretty loud as the silence settled between the two of you. 

He thought carefully through his next words, knowing damn well how thin the ice he stood on already was. 

“Do you want me to come over–?”

“No.” Your response was sharp, quick, locked, and loaded. 

“Is there anything I can—“

“No.” Another double edged, double lettered response. 

Peter blew a subtle breath out from what you assumed were puffed cheeks. He knew better than to say too much, than to break your trust even further. 

As silence nestled into the space between you, whatever paranoia had been shaking your system seemed to wither a little. 

Even just the muffled sound of his breath and hesitation across the call brought you more comfort than you knew how to ask for. 

You didn’t plan to cave and tell him that you missed him, though. He didn’t deserve that. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to me again?” 

Somehow, Peter’s voice hummed like the perfect mix of backstabbed and security. It made everything feel so complicated. 

You had to think about it, how to answer him.  

Still, your reply remained the same. 

“No.” It wasn’t as harsh as the variant prior. 

You heard Peter turn his own bedside lamp on, and the short sigh he let out in response to you. 

“Are you only allowing yourself to say ���no’ to me, then?”

It was a challenge to stay mad at him, especially considering how long you’d known him for and how well he knew you. Betrayed or not, you knew deep down that you didn’t plan to stay upset with him forever. 

As much as you tried to hide it, the word came out more gently than intended. “Yes.” The humorous opportunity was difficult to resist.

You could hear the small smile Peter acquired on the other end of the line. “So she speaks.”

“No, she doesn’t.” You quipped back, though the ice you’d initiated the call with began to thaw bit by bit. 

“Would she..? If I apologized again?” The question was scarce, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t been expecting it. 

This was a dance you and Peter had been tip–toeing for the past three nights. You didn’t dare break the silence that first night, nor did you sleep, but you couldn’t help it the second night. And yesterday night, too. He had apologized both. 

He’d left an apology note in your locker earlier that day, too. 

Your dad hadn’t said anything remotely related to an apology, even though he tried other ways to bridge the growing gap between you. You couldn’t tell if it was his stubborn spirits or fear of vulnerability, but Tony Stark didn’t seem to know where to start. 

And you weren’t going to make it your job to show him. 

At least Peter was trying.

You shook your head, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “You can’t ask me that so late.” At this point, you couldn’t stop the playful tone of your voice. “I won’t sound convincing, and you haven’t earned forgiveness yet.”

Peter took a second, whether to take in a moment where you weren’t seething at him, or to think through a response that wouldn’t scare you off, he’d never admit. Part of you appreciated him for that, appreciated him for allowing you to have more time in his company when you weren’t so begrudging. 

Part of you forgot that he was your best friend, in the midst of how clouded you’d been with despair. 

“Tell me, then.” His voice was barely above a whisper, gentle enough to lay his weapons down. “How can I earn your forgiveness?”

Somehow, the question made your heart race. It made your skin heat and your head spin. You hadn’t thought this far into it, or given it this much reflection. 

Just how could he earn your forgiveness? How could Peter Parker win your trust back?

You gave it a second, catching a bit of your breath that had gotten away. “Maybe you can–”

The sudden sound of thudding from downstairs came out of nowhere. Your head immediately snapped towards the door, that breath instantly catching back in your throat. 

“Y/N?” 

Breathe. You had to remember to breathe. You were just jumpy after the attack. Right. Yes, clearly you were just easily startled after Friday night. This had to have been your father being clumsy. 

Pulling your phone from your ear, you put Peter on speaker while you went to text your father. If you just asked him if he was alright, that wouldn’t be caving into forgiving him. It was just two in the morning and you were a worried daughter. 

However, the screen you were met with sent your heart straight to the floor. 

Peter repeated himself, “Y/N?” There was an edge to his voice this time, skeptical of your silence. “Are you okay?”

Tony had texted you two hours prior that he left the apartment. He was upstate at the compound, needing to assist Bruce with a technology repair. 

Which only meant—

Taking Peter off speakerphone, you pressed the device back to your ear. “Peter–” You could only force out whispers, fingers suddenly trembling as they went to tug your covers off. “Peter, someone’s here!” Panic bled through as your blood washed white. 

You didn’t waste a second to scurry across the room and lock the door, didn’t wait for Peter to respond before you grabbed a baseball bat you kept in the corner to defend yourself. 

His end of the call was quieter than you wanted it to be, for much longer than you knew how to deal with. 

It was quiet enough to hear two more thuds, getting a bit closer. 

Fear kept you in such a chokehold, you had to fight to mutter his name again—to whisper his name just to make sure he hadn’t left you. 

“I’m on my way.” His voice held something grave, determined; you made out the breeze whispering behind his response through the phone call. “Don’t leave your room.” The instructions were stern, protective. 

Your grip was firm and strong against the bat, pointing it at your door like some sort of sword. The length of your arm trembled, but you tried to remain calm, especially as the thudding repeated twice more, closer even. 

Every ounce of air in your lungs froze. “Hurry, Peter..” You whispered. Immediately, you heard another thud, louder than the others. You could barely discern it over the blaring noise of your heart pounding beneath your chest. 

Each hair on your body rose at the sound of footsteps taking the stairs. 

“Peter!” Calling your voice a whisper would’ve been false; you wheezed his name out. “Peter, he’s back! He’s here!” And even though your voice was quiet, you had to force it out. You couldn’t function with the rate your body shook at. 

You couldn’t breathe anymore once the shadows of feet reached your door. 

You barely had the air to gasp at the sight, to fumble for the baseball bat you tried to grip between your fingers. 

Peter finally spoke up, “Hey, breathe.” And you felt a wave of relief when his voice was heard beyond your door as well. “It’s just me.. You’re okay.” And he went to unlock the door. 

He was the only one who knew where you hid the spare key. 

When the door opened, and Peter stood behind it, you couldn’t find the words or place the thoughts you had at the sight of him. 

He hung the phone up, waiting in the doorframe to keep from intruding. “There was a pigeon loose in your living room.” He spoke it gently, “Someone left the terrace door open.”

It took his words then to recall that you’d left that door open. No one had broken in. You were going to be okay. 

The bat fell from your hands and rattled to the floor as you released it, your phone followed suit on your bed as your hands covered your face. You couldn’t keep your composure over the panic, over each sleep deprived night and every aching bruise still painting your body. 

Hidden behind your hands, you began to sob. 

Peter didn’t hesitate to pace the distance between you. He sat beside you on your bed and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t find the words to thank him or the strength to move for a moment, but once you did, you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and he pulled you as close as he could. 

“I’m so sorry..” He whispered into your hairline, a few of his tears catching with his words. His hand held the base of your head, thumb combing through the hair of yours that it could as he held you. 

You were still catching your bearings. Still gripping white knuckles on his band tee and shaking in his arms. “I– I didn’t think I would—” You were gasping the words between sobs. “I thought I was going to—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. 

Both of his hands found your jaw, pulling you back so he could see you. He wouldn’t let you finish that sentence, nor would he ever let it come true. “Y/N, I would never let that happen..” He spoke so earnestly. “You’re safe. I promise.”

He saw how the word promise seemed to affect you. He realized then that if he had any shot of earning your forgiveness, it was now. 

“We promised to tell each other everything.” He started, and you soaked in every word. You soaked in everything about him, allowing yourself to release your anger for a moment. “I also promised your dad that I’d do everything I could to protect you.. I intend to keep both.”

Your sobs had settled, and he’d begun to use his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking your face. 

“I didn’t keep my promise to you too well.” He sounded so disappointed with himself. “Tony thought it would be better to keep all of this from you, but I just…” He lost the words, wincing at his realization of how awful he’d been. 

His forehead fell against yours in defeat, despairingly. “There were dozens of times I wanted to tell you. Every time I didn’t, I broke our promise, and I’m so sorry.. You deserved better than that.”

As you looked up to meet his eyes, you could see tears glistening in his own. 

“I forgive you.” It felt rewarding to say, especially as hope returned to Peter’s expression right where it belonged. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at how excited he seemed. “Fuck, and this whole time, I thought you were hiding a secret girlfriend or something.”

The laugh that spilled from his lips was much more timid than you would’ve expected, and felt incredibly intimate at the close proximity you shared. “No. There’s only one girl I’ve got my eyes set on.” And he didn’t break his stare from you. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, shoving him playfully. “That was the corniest thing I have ever heard you say.”

He laughed with you, wiping his remaining tears. “Shut up!”

The two of you fell into something so familiar, a small fit of laughter and stares of admiration. Oh, how badly you’d missed him. 

You took in the sight of him beside you, him in a natural state. His cheeks were still flushed from the brisk wind of his journey over, his curls stuck out like coils of fire atop his head. He was in pajamas, a white band tee, blue boxers, and white Nike socks. 

He looked like your best friend, and it took you til that moment to realize just how safe you felt with him—the safest you’d felt all week. 

A timid smile curved along your lips. “Would you be okay staying with me tonight?” You scanned his face for his reaction. “Tony’s out for the night and I don’t want to be alone.”

His expression matched yours, eyes pooling with a bit more sympathy, and something that looked like he’d been hoping you would ask. “You don’t have to be. I’ll stay with you.” And that was all he took before he lifted your covers for you to cozy back inside. 

Peter waited for you to give more invitation of whether or not he could get close to you. He did not want to overstep, especially after you’d just made up. When you pulled back your covers for him, he slid in beside you; once you’d pulled his arm over your waist, he didn’t hesitate before spooning you snug in his arms. 

As you fell asleep, majority of your resentment for the situation seemed to wither away. You knew you’d have a talk with your father, but seeing as you woke up to a text from him with an actual apology and the news that they’d found your attacker, you knew the conversation wouldn’t be so bad. 

Walking up in Peter’s arms was more than you could’ve ever asked for. You hoped that you’d be able to get used to it. 

You knew as long as you had each other, Peter would never let any harm happen to you. 

And maybe that meant you weren’t powerless after all. 

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog @cantbecreative @justpeachyparker @spideryenby @notsolong-pause @wellshit6 @mwahreads @lovelyidyllic @mimisamisasa @love-hs28

thank you for all the love on the last part!! not sure whether to write a part four, but please please please leave me more song prompts/requests !!!!! these are by far my favorite <3

[uhhhj13iguess]

peter parker x reader: roommates to lovers headcanons

tom!peter parker and fem!reader living together post high school (i really only used fem language in the last hc, the rest can be read however!)

masterlist

you and peter moving into an apartment together during college at mit and becoming a thousand times closer than you were before, if that's even possible

your apartment would constantly be scattered with notes and textbooks from your late night study sessions, the air often filled with laughter at 3am when you're both nearly delusional from the lack of sleep

peter would be in and out at odd hours for his nightly patrols, and you always keep the window in the living room unlocked for him so he didn't wake you up pounding on the window to be let in at the ass crack of dawn (not that you found out from experience or anything...)

while he would try not to wake you, you'd grown to be a light sleeper, knowing most nights he would need help patching himself up. he would beg you to go back to bed, but you wouldn't have it, grabbing the sewing kit and helping him clean up

as shy as he is, I think we forget all too often how SASSY this man is, and he would get comfortable enough with you to snap back

"peter, holy shit you're bleeding!" "oh, is that what the red stuff is? really?"

peter isn't the cleanest roommate, but you never seem to mind picking up after him, knowing he's quite literally too focused on saving the lives of others. it also gave you an excuse to steal a sweatshirt now and then while picking up

speaking of, the first time peter came home from patrol and found you asleep on the couch in his sweatshirt, he nearly combusted

that night changed a lot of things in peter, seeing you in his clothes bringing his childhood crush on you out at an insane rate he just couldn't seem to bury anymore

peter can't cook to save his life, having had aunt may to take care of him up until moving in with you. you, on the other hand, loved to cook, especially for him. he would come home from class to find the apartment filled with the most heavenly scents, and all his stress would just disappear

the two of you would have routine movie nights, decking the living room out with a homemade fort and every single pillow/blanket you two owned. more often than not, you let peter pick what to watch, not able to resist the look of pure joy on his face as he queued up yet another star wars movie

these movie nights led to feelings beginning to fester in you as well, as halfway through, peter would be dead asleep and curled up into your side. sometimes he would fall asleep with his head in your lap as you played with his soft curls, and you couldn't imagine being anywhere else. you knew how hard he worked for everyone all the time, and being able to see his face in such a state of peace made your heart flutter (especially whenever he groaned at your touch in his sleep)

after about six months of living together, the vibes are genuinely unreadable. the lines between friends and more are wildly blurry, but neither of you would know how to say something, too happy in the bliss you were creating to mess it up by admitting your feelings (because what if they aren't reciprated? both dumbasses asked themselves while wrapped in each others arms on the couch)

tony, who comes to the apartment one day looking for peter, only to then see you walk into the room mid-conversation and establish the entire relationship for you

"oh, is this the girlfriend, kid?" "oh she's not, i mean we're not, i don't like, she's just my... roommate--" "I'm just your roommate?" "no! i mean, of course not, i just, we haven't, i mean i didn't-" "seems like this is a conversation i don't want to be here for. give me a ring after you're done with the misses, mkay?"