𑣲಄ the golden rule (3.1k) — an unexpected visit from spider-man distracts you from your typical routine of arguing with your noisy upstairs neighbors in your head. part two.
brand new day!peter parker x fem!reader, upstairs neighbor, nursing + comforting him back to health.
peter parker x fem!reader, brand new day
an unexpected visit from spider-man distracts you from your typical routine of arguing with your noisy upstairs neighbors in your head. (3.1k wc)
read part two!!
notes: fluff, upstairs neighbor peter, nursing him back to health, descriptions of injuries / self-administered stitches
It didn’t take long for you to get tired of the nightly noise from the apartment above you. The constant whirring of some sort of machine, the conversations between a (you presumed) young man and older woman, not to mention the bumps and thumps. When you first moved in it was easy to ignore. Hell, you’d put up with a noisy neighbor if the rent stayed as low as it was, but now you were a seasoned enough tenant that you felt like you could complain. The thought was tempting, especially on noisy nights. You’d play out the confrontation fantasy in your head. A braver you would knock on the door, the asshole would answer, and you’d get to chew him out. He’d be rude enough that you wouldn’t feel guilty about it but he would ultimately retreat and never make a noise again. This scenario played out almost every night in your head while you laid in bed with little variations based on the noise level. Sometimes it involved a firm slap to the face. Other times, when his voice sounded weak over the whizzing of whatever he was doing up there, you felt softer. You’d show up and say something gentle like, “hey, do you mind being a little quieter? It’s almost 2 in the morning.” It wasn’t like you were trying to sleep yourself, you often stayed up late into the night doing whatever you pleased. In some ways, it was nice to have some sort of not-so-silent companion. Weirdly enough it made you feel less alone in the big city. Maybe you were being too sentimental over someone who had no idea who you were, but pretending that there was a real camaraderie between two night owls meant something to you.
Some nights even made you worry, the silent nights. Nights where your mystery neighbor would suddenly slam his window, run the shower, then presumably go to sleep. Maybe he is sneaking out and that lady is his mom, you often wondered, but he doesn’t sound that young. You hadn’t run into either of them as far as you knew so there was no way of telling. Tonight was one of those silent nights that made you wish for the safety of a complete stranger. Well, maybe not a complete stranger, he was your neighbor and make-believe kindred spirit. You couldn’t help but stay awake a little longer than you typically would, waiting for that window to slam and signify his safe return.
All of these thoughts were freely flowing through your mind as you poured another mug full of tea. There were some candles and low-light lamps illuminating your space while the news quietly played from the TV. It was a calming night, the only piece needing to complete the puzzle was that window slam. Call it neighborly concern or call it obsession, but you couldn’t relax until you heard it. Maybe I should talk to my therapist about that. I definitely have an empathy problem—
Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. This wasn’t from the apartment above you, instead it came from eerily close by. Like, a few feet away close. Instinctually you ducked below your kitchen island, your blood rushing to your ears amplifying the sound of your own heartbeat. After a moment of panic, you foraged as quietly as your could in your drawer and fished out the largest butcher knife you could. Okay, okay, you got this. You are not going to die. Nobody is willing to die for the shit I’ve got in here, just go scare them off. Slowly you tiptoed to your bedroom, your mug now abandoned on the kitchen floor. You hugged the walls all the way to your open bedroom door. While the rest of your apartment was lit, your bedroom was pitch black, the perfect lighting for a burglar to hide in. Perfect.
With a rush of bravery you jumped out from behind the doorframe and flicked on the overhead light, shouting, “Whoever the hell is in my apartment get out now!” Your shaky hands held the knife out in front of you like you were afraid of it. The room flooded with light, revealing a sight you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest imagination. Standing in the middle of your bedroom was Spider-man, donned in his red and blue suit. He whipped around to face you immediately and threw his hands out in defense.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I did not mean to break into your apartment, I was- uh, trying to, you know what? It doesn’t matter, I’m gonna let myself out, I am so so sorry, please don’t scream.” His words tumbled out almost incoherently, his arms waving around wildly as he spoke. The knife slipped from your hand as you stood with your jaw agape. However as soon as he made his way to the window, you snapped back to your senses. With him turned to the side you could see long, dark gashes along his ribs. The closer you looked you could see they were littered all over his body and face.
“Wait, wait! Holy shit, are you alright?” He froze at that, panic taking over once again.
“I’m fine, all in a day’s work, or night’s work, whatever. Have a great one, by the way, goodbye!” When he tried to move, a wince ripped through him. You took this as your signal to march in between him and your open window.
“No, please, just wait a second. You break into my apartment looking like you just got dragged through hell. You obviously aren’t alright. Just, take a second, alright?” He turned to face you again, stilling as he considered your words. Silently, you turned away and started walking to the living room. After a moment you could hear his feet padding behind you. Your heart was still thumping out of your chest but at least you were in control of this moment. When the two of you finally got to the living room you pointed to the small but cozy living room.
“Wait just a second so I know you aren’t losing your mind. Just- just lay down on the couch,” you called out while you rushed over to your small linen cabinet to grab some towels for him to lay on. No way were you letting him stain your couch, you saved up good money for that thing. After gathering up as many as you could possibly spare to lose you began laying them out in layers over the fabric. However Spider-man didn’t budge, instead opting to awkwardly shift his weight from one foot to the other from the corner of the room.
After a moment he finally spoke up, “Are you really sure? I can take care of myself pretty well, this isn’t nearly the worst I’ve been roughed up before.” That stunned you again, a wave of sadness washing over you. You looked over your shoulder at him with a somber expression as you struggled to find the right words. It was hard to imagine that the man who protected your city day and night, no matter how big or small the threat was, going back to an empty home and patching himself up alone. You felt your heart shatter. It had to be lonely. It wasn’t fair. You let the silence simmer a moment longer.
“Well, not tonight you aren’t.” You meant to sound more authoritative but it came out too gentle, like a loving scold. Your hands smoothed over the towels with finality to ensure they were laying as flat and comfortably as possible before you moved out of the way. He hesitated one last time before finally giving in. His back hit the couch with a sharp exhale, his muscles melting into the springs as he situated. You started making your way to the kitchen when he called out to you again.
“Thank you… random lady whose apartment I broke into.” A little laugh slipped from you. Despite his condition he still could crack a joke, that was the Spider-man everyone knew and loved. Or, thought they knew, at least. Retrieving your mug from the floor along with a clean one for Spider-man you poured more fresh tea out and began searching for your first aid and sewing kits.
“You can thank me after I finish maiming you with a sewing needle… sorry you couldn’t stumble into some nurse’s apartment or something.” After gathering all the supplies you made your way back to the couch, pulling a chair up so you could sit beside his reclined figure. He sat up a bit when you did and nervously scanned over your kit. Instead of paying his caution any mind you shoved the mug into his hand.
Again, he started rambling.
“Listen, I’m really thankful for the tea and the couch but I seriously cannot let you patch me up. I mean, these wounds aren’t really the type you can sew up, not most of them at least. Plus, I heal super quick. Double-plus, I can’t let you see me, like at all.” Your hand met your forehead, pensively rubbing over your forehead.
“How about… you can fix yourself up if I just turn around while your mask is up? Maybe I could just get you some ibuprofen and an ice pack?” He let out a breathy laugh at that and nodded softly.
“Yeah, that’d be really great.”
“How about a snack?”
The fridge light poured into your kitchen as your eyes scanned through every possible option you could provide. What do you make for a local superhero who is bleeding out on your couch? From the living room you could hear the sharp hisses of someone repeatedly shoving a curved sewing needle into themselves, a noise you never wanted to hear again in your life. As that sound registered in your mind you suddenly became aware of how ridiculous this situation was.
“So, how often do you stumble into random people’s apartments?” You began pulling out ingredients for a turkey sandwich and ignored the urge to turn around and face him.
“Well this is sort of a one and done thing for me. I think I got a concussion or something, I was just swinging and… thought I was at my place, I guess.” While you weren’t paying any attention to the TV but you became aware of it when it went quiet.
“Sorry, I had to turn it off. Only thing worse than having your ass beat is watching the view from a helicopter.” It was your turn to laugh now as you finished assembling the sandwich. Then, you started packing ice into a plastic grocery bag and twisting it tightly.
“Alright, let me know when I can turn around.” After some scuffling he finally replied, “You’re good!” When you turned around he was back to his reclined position, a pile of bloody needles and thread laid out neatly on a towel.
“Jesus, that’s brutal.” He shook his head with a chuckle, you could only imagine what his expression was under the mask. Despite not being able to see his face you imagined it was handsome. There was no way someone that brave, athletic, and clearly fit wasn’t hot too. The thought made a warmth rise in your cheeks. You had always been a fan of Spider-man, even entertained thoughts of a moment like this. He didn’t have to know that, of course.
You handed him the plate which he took in his lap while he reached for the ice pack. Quickly, you pulled it out of his reach.
“Nuh-uh. You are not eating that sandwich with one hand on my couch. You eat it, I’ll hold the bag.” Deep inside you knew you just wanted to be close to him for as long as you could.
He snickered and shook his head, “You seriously are protective over this couch, lady. And no way, you’re forgetting my golden rule.” You huffed back.
“Treat others as you’d like to be treated? Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? And I have a name, ya’know.”
“I mean seeing my fa-” He froze. “Wow, I really look like an ass right now, don’t I? What is your name?”
“But that’s not fair though, right? You don’t get to know my name if I can’t know yours. That’s my golden rule.”
“Well then who am I gonna write my long-winded thank you card to? Just ‘beautiful lady who fed and pampered me?’” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice while your face grew even hotter. Instead of indulging any further you pressed the ice pack against his mask, taking a twisted pride in the hiss that came as a result. You stood above him and turned your face towards the ceiling without explanation, the implication serving its purpose. After a brief pause you could hear the shifting of his mask and feel the sensation of him chewing.
In between bites he spoke up, “I’m trusting you a lot right now, you know.”
“I’ve only known you for about thirty minutes, it’s a wonder someone hasn’t exposed you already.” He swallowed before replying.
“Well if everyone I met made me a sandwich and a towel bed I’d probably be in a bit more trouble.” Again, your mind drifted to the underlying tragedy of the situation. He probably had nobody, when was the last time someone helped him? Under the cold compress you could feel him reach past your body to retrieve his mug and take a long sip before adding, “I should probably break into more strangers’ houses.”
“Or maybe you could just knock next time.” He was quiet after that, instead focusing on each bite as he absorbed your words. It’d been a long time since he had spent time with anyone who cared about him, much less let himself be taken care of. Selfishly he wanted to prolong it as long as he could. When the final bite of his meal was gone he considered pretending to still be eating or just keep sipping his tea as slowly as possible to prolong the moment, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had already intruded enough, he was just glad you didn’t try using that knife on him or immediately kick him out. With great restraint he put the plate on the table, his arm grazing your thigh. The contact sizzled for a moment, sending a wave of electricity through your body. You could feel him pulling his mask back down but neither of you said a word. Instead, you just looked down at him. His head slowly turned up to face you as well as he slowly clasped one hand over yours, gently applying more pressure. It wasn’t an invitation to take the ice pack from you, rather a silent expression of his gratitude and a plea for you to stay just as you were. You could feel the warmth of his hand through the cool fabric of his gloves, a sensation that made your heart race. He felt it too, the smallness of your hand under his gloved one. He closed his eyes briefly, imagining what it might have felt like if he wasn’t wearing it. What it would have been like if he met you on the elevator as Peter Parker. It was true that he was concussed, but it wasn’t like he had ended up very far from home. Replaying the memory of him swinging into your window, he could see it clearly now. He had only missed his own bedroom by one floor. Both of you stayed like that for a while longer before he spoke again.
“I should probably go, I think.” You didn’t say a word, just pulled back your hand and made space for him to stand. Now that he had moved you could see the amount of blood on the towels but it didn’t cross your mind to worry about the couch. Something inside of you turned over, another wave of sadness washing over you. You would miss him, you were sure of it. You wondered where he would go. Did Spider-man have somewhere to call home tonight or would he go back out on the streets, fighting off whatever went bump in the night? He stood slowly with a groan, his free hand finding a sore spot on the small of his back. Leading the way, you guided him back to the window. It seemed right to have him leave the way he came. He took a long look around your room now that you weren’t threatening to stab him, taking note of the piles of pillows and duvets. Maybe in another world he could sleep on a bed like that next to a girl like you. He had always wondered who his neighbors were, it was hard to imagine that you had been right below him all along. When he finally got to the open windowsill he stilled for a moment, committing you to memory one final time.
“Are you sure you can’t tell me your name?” He couldn’t help himself. Sure, he knew he couldn’t return the favor, but he wanted to give it one last try. He wanted something to hold on to after tonight. You shrugged at him with a teasing shake of your head.
“You know the rules, Spider-man.” There was a pause. He didn’t want this to end, but like everything else good in his life, it had to. Slowly he lowered himself onto your fire escape.
“I guess this is goodnight then.” Your lips tugged into a frown at that. You didn’t want him to go. If you had it your way he would have slept on your couch, woken up and eaten breakfast, maybe washed himself off, anything that could relieve him for even one moment. Unbeknownst to you, he could sense that from you. Thankfully you didn’t press the offer, he wasn’t sure he could say no.
“Thank you so, so much,” he said with a softness akin to a whisper.
“Thank you, for everything you do.” Even through the mask you could tell he was smiling. Then just like that he was gone, the whizzing of webs pulling him out into the night. A deep breath left you as you stood in your now empty room. Unable to do anything else with yourself, you made your rounds through your apartment to turn off the lights. You would deal with the couch and the plates and the mugs in the morning. For now you just needed to rest.
Pulling your covers over yourself, you let yourself mull over every question that crossed your mind. Was there more danger waiting for him? Did he ever get lonely? It seemed that way to you. Your eyes couldn’t stay open another moment, but just before you teetered off the edge of sleep, you heard a familiar slam. At least he was home safe.
peter parker x fem!reader, brand new day
after a month of wishing spider-man would show up again, you aren't prepared for the state he's in when he finally does. he is completely broken, the result of his painful new transformation, and you are the only one who can put him back together. (6.5k wc)
read part one!!
taglist: @lumpy-grapefruit @kuro-mimi @mermade1975 @mitskiandmarvel @sourmooonlight @fanworrior @pupcakemp3 @leeprtt @swagtasticteal @taylormm1016 @thebadbatchfan @anda333 @eviepeazy (tysm to all of you for the love!! <3)
A month had passed since Spider-man had broken into your apartment but your mind was only just starting to let go of the hope that he would show up again. A night like that was not one someone could easily let go of, much less forget, but you suspected you had ruminated a little too much on the memory. Immediately following that night you began sitting on your fire escape more than you used to. It wasn’t like you never sat out there, you were just a lot more likely to now that a certain local superhero happened to stumble onto it.
Unbeknownst to you, this was causing a lot of trouble for Peter. He had to come up the stairs like a regular person way too often for his liking now on the off chance you would be watching and see him swing into his apartment. He could tell you were starting to get over it when you stopped eating dinner outside and he could finally continue business as usual. It took a lot of effort to ignore the pull in his heart that wanted to see you again. Maybe it was some last vestige of his teenaged ego that wanted to swing by one more time and dazzle you, that small part of him that still loved being Spider-man for all the ego-centric reasons someone might like being a superhero. It was the same part of him that had wanted to show up to Liz’s party in high school or swung around with MJ whenever he could convince her. When he put the mask on he was different, special, and he liked it. Or he used to, anyway. He tried to focus on all the noble sources of pride that came from helping strangers on the street, taking pictures with little kids, or saving people from burning buildings, not looking cool in front of the girl he loved. Any self-serving benefits no longer existed, and if they did he didn’t see them as equal to what he had sacrificed. Maybe he had a martyr complex, maybe that was the exact reason he deliberately ignored your window every night. It felt nice to be taken care of, to talk to someone who saw through the mask a bit, but he knew that if he indulged again it would likely only put you in harm's way.
Especially now. In the midst of isolation he had started to… change. Nights that should have been spent on the streets saving people were now consumed by late night tracking his vitals with E.V. and hunting down whoever the hell had possessed those people to break Scorpion out of prison. Something was deeply wrong with him, something he had no way to see coming. It only took one disgusting video on the life cycle of a spider for the message to become clear to him but that didn’t mean he had to accept it. The constant migraines that split his head in two, his overwhelming senses, not to mention the total asshole he was becoming, it was all too much. He was changing into something he didn’t understand. All of that to say, it was a horrible idea to see you again.
But like everything else that was a bad idea, it ended up happening whether he wanted it to or not.
This night had been worse than most. He finally let himself go on patrol and he had messed up big time. He still wasn’t in control of his all new organic webshooters or all new temper and just barely held himself back from breaking every bone in a superarmored bank robber’s face. He had escaped prison when Scorpion was broken out and was quick to repeat his crimes once he had gathered their resources. His fist was inches away from making final contact when he came to his senses and took the man to the hospital. He was so full of rage he couldn’t see straight and it terrified him. How was he supposed to protect this city when he was becoming a bigger threat than most of the bad guys he put away? His mind looped these thoughts as he swung home that night, that’s when he spotted you on your fire escape. Immediately he swung onto a nearby roof top and prepared to wait you out. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it just so happened that it was the worst night possible for it to recur. He was at his weakest and the last thing he needed to do was rope another person into his shitty reality.
Since that night, it had gotten harder for Peter to stay isolated. He heard every sound from the apartment below his. He knew when you were waking up, what you were listening to, when you went to work. At first, it was unconscious, like some part of his brain had tuned into your frequency without him realizing it. After a few days though he couldn’t help himself. Against every instinct in his body, he had become attached to you.
However, despite his most noble efforts, his spider DNA had other plans that night. When the headache started he knew had to retreat. He bit back a scream as it tore through him, his blood pumping red hot through his veins. E.V.’s voice spoke in his ear, “Arachnid hormone levels rising.” He knew it would only be moments before it began, the pain that made him beg for release, for death.
Two choices laid themselves before him. His window, or the one below it. In a moment of weakness, he locked onto yours. You couldn’t make it go away, and who knows what he would do if he was around you. What if he hurt you? From deeper within, a voice of reason spoke. May’s voice. What if I didn’t?
You had barely made it back into your bedroom when you heard a thump at your window. Despite the part of you who had wanted Spider-man to show up again, you were terrified at the possibility of seeing him again. It can’t be. Your head whipped around immediately as your heart pounded in your ears. On the other side of the glass was Spider-man, doubled over in pain with his head furiously pushed into one hand while the other was slammed against your window.
From the other side of the glass you could hear his muffled plea, “Please, let me in.” Immediately you sprung into action, opening the window and backing away as he weakly pulled himself in. His body fell flat onto the ground, his head barely missing the metal radiator below the sill. It was like you were on auto-pilot, possibly due to the embarrassing amount of times you had already rehearsed this moment in your head, as you grabbed a pillow from your bed and tried to put it under his head.
“Holy shit, what happened to you?” Your voice was thick with worry and panic. Whatever shape he had shown up in last time didn’t come close to what you saw in front of you now. The physical injuries were obvious. Blood was all over his arms and hands, some was even splattered on his mask but it was hard to see where it was coming from past his hands wrapped around either side of his head.
Instead of replying, Peter violently rocked back and forth on the ground, grumbling, “Stay back, I’m begging you—” a fierce groan ripped through him before he could finish. Fear shot through your body, causing you to flinch away from him and stumble from your squat into a full seat on the ground. Below the mask his face shifted through countless emotions: shame, fear, and most of all excruciating pain. When he got like this, it was impossible to control himself. There was a very real possibility that if the spider took over, you would be its target. His head felt like it was about to pop. Every sense was amplified; each sound felt like it was coming from inside of his ears, everything he touched felt like it was on fire, his skin felt like it was turning in on itself. It very well may have been, he didn’t totally understand what his transformation would look like other than the videos he watched of actual spiders shedding their skin. Regardless of the shame as he felt for scaring you he couldn’t bring himself to calm himself down. The best he could do was tumble out apologies.
“I’m so sorry, god, I’m sorry. I didn’t know where to go. Please, make it stop,” he pleaded.
“Make what stop? What is happening to you?” Despite your fear you crawled towards him again, your hands hovering inches away from his wrists. He wanted to push you off, tell you to get away, but the only thing stronger than his pain was the fact he couldn’t be alone anymore. When he chose to come through your window he had already accepted the obvious truth- he needed help. Your help.
“Something’s wrong with me… I’m changing and, I-I can’t stop it…. It hurts so much, please, god make it stop.” Peter’s body curled more into itself as he willed himself to speak. You were completely clueless as to how you could help him, much less make it stop. What does he mean he’s changing? Nobody knew how Spider-man became the way he was, much less the long term effects of being that way, which made it impossible for you to try to solve the problem. Truthfully none of that mattered now, not only was his initial transformation unprecedented but whatever was happening now was off the deepend of whatever you could possibly conceive. What mattered was the man in front of you, afraid and in pain with no one else to turn to. Why else would he show up here?
The realization sent another shock through your body. It had occurred to you when you had first met but to see it manifested in this moment broke you. You had only met one time, but it was you who he had turned to. He had nowhere else to go.
With a renewed sense of duty you tried a new strategy. With a faux-calm voice you attempted to soothe him, “Spider-man, hey, hey, look at me.” Your hands finally planted on his wrists as your thumbs traced small circles on them. At first he jerked against your touch, which admittedly terrified you, but he relented slightly after a moment. He let you pull them just far enough away from his head that you could now clearly see there was no gash on his face or his arms. That wasn’t his blood.
“There you go, there you go, please, deep breaths, c’mon,” you wavered as you spoke. His breaths were slowly becoming less shallow, the cries of pain became quieter and less frequent. Instead, they were replaced with one solid phrase repeating, “What is happening to me?” You wanted to ask the same thing, but now wasn’t the time.
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” Peter couldn’t stop the shaking but his vision was slowly becoming more focused on you. Now able to see you somewhat clearly he could see just how afraid you were. Your eyes were wildly scanning him, searching for any source of injury. Using you as a focal point he ran through his five senses, honing each one in on you. He could see your fear. He could feel the shakiness of your hands against his wrists. He could smell the remnants of a candle burning somewhere in the room. He could hear your voice, anxiously soothing him with repeated whispers. He could taste the blood in his mouth, thankfully it wasn’t yours. One sense at a time, he was pulled away from the edge. The headache that sent him into a burning frenzy began to dull into a consistent thump.
Peter finally crumbled beneath your touch, his fetal position turning into an exhausted slump. You took this as an opportunity to get him off of the floor.
“Listen, you don’t have to explain anything right now, but we need to get you somewhere comfortable. Do you think you can stand?” He opted for a nod, which prompted you to slowly pull him up by his arms. The thought of letting go of him terrified you, so you held on tightly as you led him onto your bed. With an anguished sigh, he lowered himself onto the bed sitting upright. Finally you let go of him, but you stayed close for a moment in case he fell forward. When he was finally stable you took a few steps towards the door.
“Okay, please stay there, I’m gonna get you some water.”
An overpowering self-consciousness came over him. Despite his desperation, Peter called out, “Please, don’t, I shou-”
“No, stop it. You’re here now so we are doing this my way,” you scolded from the door frame. He hadn’t seen you this serious last time, it was completely new to him. It reminded him of life before everyone forgot about him, when he had people who cared about him. He blamed his compliance to your demands on the rush of nostalgia, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on the memories too long. Right now, he was too emotionally and physically exhausted to remember how horrible his life had become in the last four years.
As you stepped into the kitchen you finally let out the shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Everything was hopefully calming down now, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear yet. Focusing on that instead of your own fear, you filled two glasses with water before preparing a cold rag. Carrying all three things back to the room, you were filled with pity at the sight that awaited you. Spider-man sitting on the edge of your bed, his head buried in his hands as he shook it weakly. Whatever had happened tonight had broken him in a way you hoped to never experience, in a way you wanted to fix. Silently, you held the glass of water out to him. He looked up at you as he took it, and while you couldn’t see his face you could still feel the gratitude pouring from his white lenses. You took a seat next to him on the bed and slowly held the rag out.
“If you want, I can go make you something… if you wanna have a moment to,” you gestured to the mask before finishing awkwardly, “yaknow.” In yet another moment of what he perceived as weakness, Peter let his mind consider the option that terrified him. Everyone had to forget who he was in the first place because he needed to protect them, but every moment since then had been torture. He had been forced to question what being Spider-man was all for now, what living was for. It was harder to come up with an answer nowadays.
He didn’t respond to your offer, instead beginning his explanation of how he ended up there, in your bedroom, tonight. That seemed much easier to answer in comparison. The rag stayed neglected in your hand.
“I’m changing,” he started. Peter paused for a moment to let you have a moment to speak, to stop him from explaining and send him on his way so you didn’t get caught up in this mess, but you didn’t. You just hummed in response.
“When I became Spider-man, it completely changed my life. I finally had… a purpose. I was stronger, faster, more powerful than anyone ever should be, and I used that to help people. That kept me going, until it didn’t. Until I lost everything that I wanted to protect.” He turned to meet your burning gaze now. You hung on each word that left his lips.
He continued, “Something happened, something really bad. I had to make a choice that meant letting go of everyone left who knew who I was. It’s so hard to explain-”
“Then don’t,” you stopped him. “Tell me what you can, not what you think I need. I’m here.” Peter’s lips parted as he searched for a stabilizing breath but it wouldn’t come. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to talk to someone, to be honest with someone. At least, someone besides E.V., which always made him feel pathetic. It took him a moment to gather the strength to speak, it was time to say the scary part out loud.
“It’s been four years since then, and I’m still not over it. I saw them the other day, my best friends in the world, I talked to them… but they still couldn’t remember me, and I don’t know, I guess that did something to me. Ever since that day, my body has been… changing.” Again, he paused to let you ask any questions, to back out, but you stayed silent. That didn’t mean you were without questions, but now wasn’t the time.
“The spider that made me this way, it changed the chemicals in my body. Now, it’s changing me again somehow. I-I can shoot webs from my wrists,” each word was emphasized with a gesture of his hands.
“My senses are tuned to one-hundred percent, and it hurts. My head feels like it’s about to explode, and I can’t control myself anymore. I could’ve killed someone today. Someone who deserves to have justice served to him, not die. Sure, he’s killed people, but that’s not what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to save people, not fucking kill them. I was so scared, I ran away like a coward. Then the headache came back. I don’t know what’s going on with me, and I’m horrified of myself.” In the moment of silence that followed, Peter 3’s voice played in his head. I stopped pulling my punches. His gaze fell to his lap.
There was a heavy pause before you could say anything. It was almost too much to take, how can someone live like that? Whenever you tried to think of the right thing to say, you were stumped. Maybe there wasn’t a right thing to say, just saying something was enough.
“That’s… the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” You didn’t mean to, but a heavy huff of laughter escaped your lips with the words. Peter looked at you with shock, only to be met with tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t even feel them coming, but they started to pool and before you could control them they slipped down your face in hot streams. There were no hiccups, no sobs, just pitying tears. Before he could stop himself, his hands softly cupped your face. His gloved thumbs ran over your face and softly wiped them as soft reassurances left his lips.
“Hey, hey… come on sweetheart, please don’t cry. Please, I promise I’m gonna be okay…” The rag you were holding slipped to the floor as your hands wrapped around his. You tried to hide your face in his hold but he wouldn’t let you. There was no time to focus on it, but the name set a small rumble off inside of you.
“God, I’m sorry, this isn’t about me. I’m so sorry for you… Spider-man.” The name felt silly now. He was showing you who he really was, whoever that may be, but here you were calling him by the name you felt might as well be a curse.
“Don’t apologize, please. It’s bad right now, it is, but I… I love doing what I do. I get to save people every day, not everyone can say that, right? I even get to go to strangers’ houses and tell them my sob story,” it was his turn to make a pitiful joke now. It was successful, the air was ever-so-slightly lighter now and after a moment you let your hands drop from his. With one last wipe he retreated as well, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin.
“I don’t think you can call me a stranger anymore, even though we don’t even know each other's names. I know pretty much everything else about you.” As you spoke you felt your energy returning. The weight of the moment remained but it wasn’t crushing, instead becoming the heavy fact of reality. You could push through that.
“Yeah, and I know you are probably dying inside at how many germs I’m getting on your bed right now.” That pulled a real laugh out of you as you took another close look at him. He was filthy.
“Oh my god, I didn’t even think about that. By the way, you totally stained my couch. You are so lucky I haven’t kicked you onto the floor,” you laughed out, rubbing your face with the backs of your hands. The tears had stopped now and were replaced by a genuine smile. The pressure was finally off of both of you, a feeling that left you feeling brave. Brave enough to say your name.
Peter’s head whipped up to look at you as it left your lips.
You repeated it again, adding, “That’s my name. I know you can’t tell me yours, but I want you to know mine. I guess, I want you to know there’s someone out there who really cares about you.” Electricity ran through Peter’s body. His lips moved, whispering your name back to himself like it would slip away if he didn’t. The cocktail of emotions in the air kept pulling more out of you.
After a pause, reassurances began flying from you. “Don’t, like, think you have to tell me yours though. Seriously, I’m not trying to—” In a flash, his fingers slipped under the lip of his mask as he pulled it off in one swift movement. Your sentence immediately trailed off as your jaw dropped to the floor. There he sat, Spider-man, with no mask on. He was beautiful. Dark curls exploded out from the tight confines of the mask and he nervously ran a hand through them. There were some small cuts that had healed over dotted around his sharp face. After a moment of staring, you became aware of the fact you were gawking in complete silence. It felt like it was illegal to see his face, a feeling that overwhelmed you as you covered your eyes and shot up from the bed. From behind you, Peter laughed through a thick layer of nerves.
“Am I seriously that hideous?” he joked. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.
“God, not at all. You are like, wow,” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, which made him laugh even harder.
“Ignore me, Jesus, this is horrible. I just- I feel like I’m breaking the rules right now!” Your face was burning from under your hands when you felt his wrap around your wrists. Gently they pulled them away, leaving you exposed to his stare. He was smiling now, an expression that only made it harder to look at him. Dammit, of course Spider-man is hot. I knew it. Why wouldn’t he be?
“It’s fine, you aren’t gonna get in trouble for knowing who I am or anything.” It was a joke but he couldn’t help but feel like there was a bit of deception twisted into it. People did usually seem to find trouble after finding out who he was. When you finally met his gaze again, he took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
“My name’s Peter. It’s only fair I tell you, that was your rule and all.” Your mind flashed back to the first time you met once again, you couldn’t believe he remembered. Everything was out in the open now. There was no taking it back. If you decided to tell the world, there wasn’t another magic spell that could fix it. He was trusting you with his life, and it felt warm in your hands. Against your better judgement, you pressed your fingertips to his face, tracing a soft line against a cut on his cheek. Despite the small contact, he leaned into your touch. His hand wrapped around your elbow and squeezed gently as his eyes fluttered shut. You were so close now, it felt impossible to retreat from him. Your touch continued to move, following the lines of his face into his hairline.
Quietly you asked, “Why did you come here? That night, tonight, what happened? Why me?” His hand traveled to your upper arm as he traced over the thin skin. His eyes fluttered back open and took you in. There was a desperation in your eyes. You didn’t want to pry, but now more than ever you needed to know the answer to the question that had haunted you for weeks.
“The first time… was a mistake. I mistook your window for mine and… then I was here.” Your head turned to the side at that, your fingers slipping from his hair. While you had assumed that was the case, it only made you more confused. Sensing that, he explained with a point to the ceiling.
“I, uh… am your upstairs neighbor.” Immediately you straightened up, your eyes lighting up with shock. All of those nights you heard the window slam, the nights you racked your brain with imaginary confrontations, it was him? It all felt so obvious now. You spun away from him suddenly and raked your fingers through your hair. His hand felt empty now that he wasn’t holding your arm as he considered the fact he might have just ruined everything.
“Seriously? God, that’s why you’re always coming back at the craziest hours ever. Who are you talking to, like, all the time up there?”
“That’s E.V., she’s the artificial intelligence I use to help with… kinda everything. And she’s kinda my therapist, which I realize saying out loud is the saddest sentence anyone has ever said before.” You huffed once again at that but you couldn’t find it in you to respond, instead continuing to put together the pieces in your mind.
“You’ve been right above me this whole time…” Neither of you spoke for a minute after that, both absorbing the situation; you, the fact that the very person you had been obsessing over for a month straight was right above you all along; him, the fact that you cared about him even though you had no idea who he was. He was just a faceless neighbor and here you were, worrying about his safety. He was overcome with emotion at the idea, a force that made him cross the room to close the space in between you.
“But that isn’t why I came here tonight. I came because… I thought that seeing you might make it go away. I couldn’t do it alone anymore. I couldn’t stop myself from seeing you anymore. I’ve tried for weeks. Every time you sat out on the fire escape—”
“You saw that?” Your face burned again at his admission. He took another step closer.
His voice came out again, even more confident this time. “Every time, I wanted to just… be with you. Tell you everything. It sounds insane, we only met once, but I don’t know. I felt like I had to see you.” The words simmered in the air between you, that space becoming a vacuum that pulled your breath from your lungs. A new instinct took control of him now, one that was entirely rooted in the part of him that was human. The urge to kiss you.
With one swift step, he consumed your space. His hands wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you in, your lips crashing together with the force. Immediately you melted into him, any fear you had felt that night slipping away like a distant memory. Your own hands found his face, one hand smoothly carding through his hair. You swore you could feel his heart beating against your own, the thumping pulling you even further into the pull of his body.
Cautiously, one of his hands slipped down your back, firmly pulling your waist into him. Your body obeyed, craving the contact. His kiss became more passionate as you surrendered into him as if this moment had the ability to heal everything inside of him. You felt it in his touch, the desperation of someone who had nobody. Someone who had gone adrift from the world he sought to protect, and here you were, anchoring him back to it.
Despite himself, Peter broke away first.
“Is this okay?” It came out less like a question and more like a plea.
“Peter,” you breathed out. It was final. There was nothing else that couldn’t be said with his body. Instead of attaching himself back to your lips, he eagerly latched onto your neck, his hot breath pulling you deeper into your trance. Your head lulled back as his name slipped from your lips, begging him for more. He obeyed, both of his hands now tracing over your body as he pulled you into him. You couldn’t stay still, your own touch wandering up and down his frame, searching for the perfect landing. The further he strayed from your lips the faster the pool inside of you swirled, but you needed him back. Taking his head in your hands you pulled him back to face you and for a brief moment you looked into his eyes. They were wildly searching you for something, any sign from you that didn’t want this. Then, you saw them. Hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes. When he felt them he was filled with shame, it was obvious on his face.
“Peter, it’s okay, please. I’m here.” Your fingers were sprawled across his face, each one electrifying him. You smeared the tears into his skin as his body trembled against yours. Your lips suddenly closed in on his face, kissing the tears away. The salt clung to your lips as you pressed each other, a gesture that only led to more spilling out.
“I’m here, I’m here, everything’s okay now. Shh,” you soothed, your fingers finding their way back to his hair. “What do you need, I’ll give it to you. Please, tell me what I can do.” Peter couldn’t believe the words coming from your mouth, they made him become even more desperate.
“I need you, please, I need you baby,” his voice came out weaker than you had ever heard it. You didn’t speak again, instead pressing your lips back to his. He melted against you now as you guided him backwards. He folded back when the backs of his legs pressed against the bed. When you separated again he took full advantage of the fact he was angled below to run his hands up and down your body once again, finally palming your breasts. Just as he made contact, you took your place between his open knees. He let his fingers slip below your shirt, the cool sensation of his gloves making you shiver. Your hands met his and pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you almost fully exposed in front of him.
“God…” the word slipped from his lips as he suddenly pulled you closer by your hips, pressing hot kisses against your stomach. His fingers found their way under the waistband of your shorts when you stopped him.
“Please, I need to see you.” He understood, immediately rising. Surprisingly, the suit came off quickly, leaving him on almost complete display. Again, you couldn’t help but stare. He was practically carved out of stone, and the pressure inside of you became almost unbearable when you locked onto his erection. It was begging for a release you were eager to provide. You started making your way closer to make him sit again when he stopped you with hands planted on either shoulder.
“Wait, before… I need you to promise me you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you. Please, please, tell me.” Again, he seemed so small in front of you. In an attempt to show him how much you wanted this, your hands wrapped around his and guided them down to your chest. His pupils blew wide with desire.
“I promise,” you whispered back.
“Fuck, baby… you’re gonna kill me.” His lips attacked yours again as his fingers got busy with your bra. When that was gone he pushed back again and took in the sight.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he whined. You could see him getting harder by the second. As he once again reached to take off your shorts you slipped your hand into his boxers. Your fingers wrapped tight around him as your thumb played with his tip, your appetite growing more and more ravenous as you smeared him with his own slick precum. His lips pressed an open-mouthed moan into your own as you started working him. He finally relieved you of your last bit of clothing while you finally got him to lay flat on your bed. You crawled over him now, rolling your hips into his with a hungry pace. His dick was now pulled over the top of his boxers and with a free hand you lined it up with your folds.
“W-Wait, please let me taste you,” he pleaded. With a nod of your head you gave him permission, a granted wish he eagerly took advantage of. He quickly wrapped his arms under your knees and flipped you both, stealing the air from your lungs. Without hesitation, he buried his face between your thighs, suckling and teasing your clit with his hot tongue.
“Oh my god, Peter, please, please, touch me,” the words flowed from your lips without restraint. He slowly began prodding your entrance with his fingers as he kept his tongue right where you needed it. When he finally pressed in, you could only see a flash of white. Instinctually you started to grind down on his face, a movement Peter quickly controlled with a firm press of his other hand on your stomach. He guided your body like he knew it as well as his own. Another finger slipped inside of you, sending you teetering on the edge of release when paired with his furious tongue. It didn’t take long for you to give into the feeling.
Peter’s voice came out in a hum against you as he kept his pace, “There you go sweetheart, let it go, let me show you how much I need you.” The power of the orgasm pulled your hips to the sky like there were puppet strings attached to your body. Again, Peter tamed the movement, keeping you still under his firm grip. When the pleasure finally finished rumbling through you, he made quick pace to start kissing up your stomach.
“Please, I need you in me now,” you pleaded. That was all he needed to hear. When you looked down at him, you saw his boxers were not fully abandoned, leaving you face to face with his firm erection. Slowly he lined himself up with you, his hand rubbing reassuring pets over your body.
“Please, you promise you’ll stop me?” His eyes burned again with sincerity, a softness that was almost lost on you in the midst of him fiercely pleasuring you. You couldn’t speak, instead nodding furiously. Finally, you felt him breach you, the stretch sending a chill through your body. He froze for a moment when he felt it but eventually pushed in further. When it was finally in fully, he craned his neck down to press his lips against yours.
“You feel so good, oh my god,” he muttered against your lips as he finally set his pace. It was slow at first but it didn’t take long for it to build with his desperation. Your moans were captured in his mouth as he kept kissing you, breaking only to continue to shower you with praise.
“Just like that, please, keep gripping me like that. Fuck—” a deeper sigh was pulled right from his lungs, causing him to bury his face in your neck. There, he licked and nibbled at the skin. His hot breath poured all over you, a sensation that could have sent you right over the edge alone.
“Please keep going, I’m so close,” you whispered in his ear, your legs now wrapped fully around him. He couldn’t form any more real words, instead pounding even harder into you as he kept muttering shapeless sounds in your ear. You could tell he was finally about to cum when he began shivering all over, his arms shaking on either side of you as he supported his full weight.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you baby, please, I need it,” he begged as he rapidly approached his peak.
“Yes- please, yes,” that was all you could manage before you felt him shoot inside of you, his warm seed filling you to the brim as he fucked it deeper inside of you.
It took a minute before he finally detached from you, his breath hot and unsteady. Your body was limp next to him as he splashed into the bed next to you. He wrapped his strong arms around you, one of them slipped under your neck to cradle your head. For a while you both just laid there silently. Neither of you had the energy to speak, much less the clarity to identify a single thought to say aloud. Instead, Peter pressed silent kisses to the top of your head.
When the haze finally cleared, Peter wrapped a finger under your chin to force your gaze up at him
“Thank you,” he whispered and pressed another kiss to the tip of your nose. Despite the vulnerability you had already shown you got shy, which only made Peter smile more.
“You’re beautiful, you know that? I didn’t say it last time, but I wanted to.” You nuzzled against his arm, half hiding your face.
“I would say the same but you had a mask on.” Your voice was slightly muffled against his skin, but his laugh signaled that he understood.
“And how about now?” If you had the energy, you’d roll your eyes.
“Eh, you’re alright,” you teased. He pulled you tighter into his arms then, attacking you with kisses. A little whine left your lips as you weakly fought against it, which only made him laugh more. When you both finally settled, another wave of emotion crashed in Peter’s mind. However, instead of despair, it was pure peace. He pressed his forehead against yours.
“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered in a promise not only to you, but to himself.
“Neither am I,” you promised back. For the first time in four years, Peter truly believed that he wasn’t alone.
peter parker x fem!reader, brand new day
an unexpected visit from spider-man distracts you from your typical routine of arguing with your noisy upstairs neighbors in your head. (3.1k wc)
read part two!!
notes: fluff, upstairs neighbor peter, nursing him back to health, descriptions of injuries / self-administered stitches
It didn’t take long for you to get tired of the nightly noise from the apartment above you. The constant whirring of some sort of machine, the conversations between a (you presumed) young man and older woman, not to mention the bumps and thumps. When you first moved in it was easy to ignore. Hell, you’d put up with a noisy neighbor if the rent stayed as low as it was, but now you were a seasoned enough tenant that you felt like you could complain. The thought was tempting, especially on noisy nights. You’d play out the confrontation fantasy in your head. A braver you would knock on the door, the asshole would answer, and you’d get to chew him out. He’d be rude enough that you wouldn’t feel guilty about it but he would ultimately retreat and never make a noise again. This scenario played out almost every night in your head while you laid in bed with little variations based on the noise level. Sometimes it involved a firm slap to the face. Other times, when his voice sounded weak over the whizzing of whatever he was doing up there, you felt softer. You’d show up and say something gentle like, “hey, do you mind being a little quieter? It’s almost 2 in the morning.” It wasn’t like you were trying to sleep yourself, you often stayed up late into the night doing whatever you pleased. In some ways, it was nice to have some sort of not-so-silent companion. Weirdly enough it made you feel less alone in the big city. Maybe you were being too sentimental over someone who had no idea who you were, but pretending that there was a real camaraderie between two night owls meant something to you.
Some nights even made you worry, the silent nights. Nights where your mystery neighbor would suddenly slam his window, run the shower, then presumably go to sleep. Maybe he is sneaking out and that lady is his mom, you often wondered, but he doesn’t sound that young. You hadn’t run into either of them as far as you knew so there was no way of telling. Tonight was one of those silent nights that made you wish for the safety of a complete stranger. Well, maybe not a complete stranger, he was your neighbor and make-believe kindred spirit. You couldn’t help but stay awake a little longer than you typically would, waiting for that window to slam and signify his safe return.
All of these thoughts were freely flowing through your mind as you poured another mug full of tea. There were some candles and low-light lamps illuminating your space while the news quietly played from the TV. It was a calming night, the only piece needing to complete the puzzle was that window slam. Call it neighborly concern or call it obsession, but you couldn’t relax until you heard it. Maybe I should talk to my therapist about that. I definitely have an empathy problem—
Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. This wasn’t from the apartment above you, instead it came from eerily close by. Like, a few feet away close. Instinctually you ducked below your kitchen island, your blood rushing to your ears amplifying the sound of your own heartbeat. After a moment of panic, you foraged as quietly as your could in your drawer and fished out the largest butcher knife you could. Okay, okay, you got this. You are not going to die. Nobody is willing to die for the shit I’ve got in here, just go scare them off. Slowly you tiptoed to your bedroom, your mug now abandoned on the kitchen floor. You hugged the walls all the way to your open bedroom door. While the rest of your apartment was lit, your bedroom was pitch black, the perfect lighting for a burglar to hide in. Perfect.
With a rush of bravery you jumped out from behind the doorframe and flicked on the overhead light, shouting, “Whoever the hell is in my apartment get out now!” Your shaky hands held the knife out in front of you like you were afraid of it. The room flooded with light, revealing a sight you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest imagination. Standing in the middle of your bedroom was Spider-man, donned in his red and blue suit. He whipped around to face you immediately and threw his hands out in defense.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I did not mean to break into your apartment, I was- uh, trying to, you know what? It doesn’t matter, I’m gonna let myself out, I am so so sorry, please don’t scream.” His words tumbled out almost incoherently, his arms waving around wildly as he spoke. The knife slipped from your hand as you stood with your jaw agape. However as soon as he made his way to the window, you snapped back to your senses. With him turned to the side you could see long, dark gashes along his ribs. The closer you looked you could see they were littered all over his body and face.
“Wait, wait! Holy shit, are you alright?” He froze at that, panic taking over once again.
“I’m fine, all in a day’s work, or night’s work, whatever. Have a great one, by the way, goodbye!” When he tried to move, a wince ripped through him. You took this as your signal to march in between him and your open window.
“No, please, just wait a second. You break into my apartment looking like you just got dragged through hell. You obviously aren’t alright. Just, take a second, alright?” He turned to face you again, stilling as he considered your words. Silently, you turned away and started walking to the living room. After a moment you could hear his feet padding behind you. Your heart was still thumping out of your chest but at least you were in control of this moment. When the two of you finally got to the living room you pointed to the small but cozy living room.
“Wait just a second so I know you aren’t losing your mind. Just- just lay down on the couch,” you called out while you rushed over to your small linen cabinet to grab some towels for him to lay on. No way were you letting him stain your couch, you saved up good money for that thing. After gathering up as many as you could possibly spare to lose you began laying them out in layers over the fabric. However Spider-man didn’t budge, instead opting to awkwardly shift his weight from one foot to the other from the corner of the room.
After a moment he finally spoke up, “Are you really sure? I can take care of myself pretty well, this isn’t nearly the worst I’ve been roughed up before.” That stunned you again, a wave of sadness washing over you. You looked over your shoulder at him with a somber expression as you struggled to find the right words. It was hard to imagine that the man who protected your city day and night, no matter how big or small the threat was, going back to an empty home and patching himself up alone. You felt your heart shatter. It had to be lonely. It wasn’t fair. You let the silence simmer a moment longer.
“Well, not tonight you aren’t.” You meant to sound more authoritative but it came out too gentle, like a loving scold. Your hands smoothed over the towels with finality to ensure they were laying as flat and comfortably as possible before you moved out of the way. He hesitated one last time before finally giving in. His back hit the couch with a sharp exhale, his muscles melting into the springs as he situated. You started making your way to the kitchen when he called out to you again.
“Thank you… random lady whose apartment I broke into.” A little laugh slipped from you. Despite his condition he still could crack a joke, that was the Spider-man everyone knew and loved. Or, thought they knew, at least. Retrieving your mug from the floor along with a clean one for Spider-man you poured more fresh tea out and began searching for your first aid and sewing kits.
“You can thank me after I finish maiming you with a sewing needle… sorry you couldn’t stumble into some nurse’s apartment or something.” After gathering all the supplies you made your way back to the couch, pulling a chair up so you could sit beside his reclined figure. He sat up a bit when you did and nervously scanned over your kit. Instead of paying his caution any mind you shoved the mug into his hand.
Again, he started rambling.
“Listen, I’m really thankful for the tea and the couch but I seriously cannot let you patch me up. I mean, these wounds aren’t really the type you can sew up, not most of them at least. Plus, I heal super quick. Double-plus, I can’t let you see me, like at all.” Your hand met your forehead, pensively rubbing over your forehead.
“How about… you can fix yourself up if I just turn around while your mask is up? Maybe I could just get you some ibuprofen and an ice pack?” He let out a breathy laugh at that and nodded softly.
“Yeah, that’d be really great.”
“How about a snack?”
The fridge light poured into your kitchen as your eyes scanned through every possible option you could provide. What do you make for a local superhero who is bleeding out on your couch? From the living room you could hear the sharp hisses of someone repeatedly shoving a curved sewing needle into themselves, a noise you never wanted to hear again in your life. As that sound registered in your mind you suddenly became aware of how ridiculous this situation was.
“So, how often do you stumble into random people’s apartments?” You began pulling out ingredients for a turkey sandwich and ignored the urge to turn around and face him.
“Well this is sort of a one and done thing for me. I think I got a concussion or something, I was just swinging and… thought I was at my place, I guess.” While you weren’t paying any attention to the TV but you became aware of it when it went quiet.
“Sorry, I had to turn it off. Only thing worse than having your ass beat is watching the view from a helicopter.” It was your turn to laugh now as you finished assembling the sandwich. Then, you started packing ice into a plastic grocery bag and twisting it tightly.
“Alright, let me know when I can turn around.” After some scuffling he finally replied, “You’re good!” When you turned around he was back to his reclined position, a pile of bloody needles and thread laid out neatly on a towel.
“Jesus, that’s brutal.” He shook his head with a chuckle, you could only imagine what his expression was under the mask. Despite not being able to see his face you imagined it was handsome. There was no way someone that brave, athletic, and clearly fit wasn’t hot too. The thought made a warmth rise in your cheeks. You had always been a fan of Spider-man, even entertained thoughts of a moment like this. He didn’t have to know that, of course.
You handed him the plate which he took in his lap while he reached for the ice pack. Quickly, you pulled it out of his reach.
“Nuh-uh. You are not eating that sandwich with one hand on my couch. You eat it, I’ll hold the bag.” Deep inside you knew you just wanted to be close to him for as long as you could.
He snickered and shook his head, “You seriously are protective over this couch, lady. And no way, you’re forgetting my golden rule.” You huffed back.
“Treat others as you’d like to be treated? Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? And I have a name, ya’know.”
“I mean seeing my fa-” He froze. “Wow, I really look like an ass right now, don’t I? What is your name?”
“But that’s not fair though, right? You don’t get to know my name if I can’t know yours. That’s my golden rule.”
“Well then who am I gonna write my long-winded thank you card to? Just ‘beautiful lady who fed and pampered me?’” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice while your face grew even hotter. Instead of indulging any further you pressed the ice pack against his mask, taking a twisted pride in the hiss that came as a result. You stood above him and turned your face towards the ceiling without explanation, the implication serving its purpose. After a brief pause you could hear the shifting of his mask and feel the sensation of him chewing.
In between bites he spoke up, “I’m trusting you a lot right now, you know.”
“I’ve only known you for about thirty minutes, it’s a wonder someone hasn’t exposed you already.” He swallowed before replying.
“Well if everyone I met made me a sandwich and a towel bed I’d probably be in a bit more trouble.” Again, your mind drifted to the underlying tragedy of the situation. He probably had nobody, when was the last time someone helped him? Under the cold compress you could feel him reach past your body to retrieve his mug and take a long sip before adding, “I should probably break into more strangers’ houses.”
“Or maybe you could just knock next time.” He was quiet after that, instead focusing on each bite as he absorbed your words. It’d been a long time since he had spent time with anyone who cared about him, much less let himself be taken care of. Selfishly he wanted to prolong it as long as he could. When the final bite of his meal was gone he considered pretending to still be eating or just keep sipping his tea as slowly as possible to prolong the moment, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had already intruded enough, he was just glad you didn’t try using that knife on him or immediately kick him out. With great restraint he put the plate on the table, his arm grazing your thigh. The contact sizzled for a moment, sending a wave of electricity through your body. You could feel him pulling his mask back down but neither of you said a word. Instead, you just looked down at him. His head slowly turned up to face you as well as he slowly clasped one hand over yours, gently applying more pressure. It wasn’t an invitation to take the ice pack from you, rather a silent expression of his gratitude and a plea for you to stay just as you were. You could feel the warmth of his hand through the cool fabric of his gloves, a sensation that made your heart race. He felt it too, the smallness of your hand under his gloved one. He closed his eyes briefly, imagining what it might have felt like if he wasn’t wearing it. What it would have been like if he met you on the elevator as Peter Parker. It was true that he was concussed, but it wasn’t like he had ended up very far from home. Replaying the memory of him swinging into your window, he could see it clearly now. He had only missed his own bedroom by one floor. Both of you stayed like that for a while longer before he spoke again.
“I should probably go, I think.” You didn’t say a word, just pulled back your hand and made space for him to stand. Now that he had moved you could see the amount of blood on the towels but it didn’t cross your mind to worry about the couch. Something inside of you turned over, another wave of sadness washing over you. You would miss him, you were sure of it. You wondered where he would go. Did Spider-man have somewhere to call home tonight or would he go back out on the streets, fighting off whatever went bump in the night? He stood slowly with a groan, his free hand finding a sore spot on the small of his back. Leading the way, you guided him back to the window. It seemed right to have him leave the way he came. He took a long look around your room now that you weren’t threatening to stab him, taking note of the piles of pillows and duvets. Maybe in another world he could sleep on a bed like that next to a girl like you. He had always wondered who his neighbors were, it was hard to imagine that you had been right below him all along. When he finally got to the open windowsill he stilled for a moment, committing you to memory one final time.
“Are you sure you can’t tell me your name?” He couldn’t help himself. Sure, he knew he couldn’t return the favor, but he wanted to give it one last try. He wanted something to hold on to after tonight. You shrugged at him with a teasing shake of your head.
“You know the rules, Spider-man.” There was a pause. He didn’t want this to end, but like everything else good in his life, it had to. Slowly he lowered himself onto your fire escape.
“I guess this is goodnight then.” Your lips tugged into a frown at that. You didn’t want him to go. If you had it your way he would have slept on your couch, woken up and eaten breakfast, maybe washed himself off, anything that could relieve him for even one moment. Unbeknownst to you, he could sense that from you. Thankfully you didn’t press the offer, he wasn’t sure he could say no.
“Thank you so, so much,” he said with a softness akin to a whisper.
“Thank you, for everything you do.” Even through the mask you could tell he was smiling. Then just like that he was gone, the whizzing of webs pulling him out into the night. A deep breath left you as you stood in your now empty room. Unable to do anything else with yourself, you made your rounds through your apartment to turn off the lights. You would deal with the couch and the plates and the mugs in the morning. For now you just needed to rest.
Pulling your covers over yourself, you let yourself mull over every question that crossed your mind. Was there more danger waiting for him? Did he ever get lonely? It seemed that way to you. Your eyes couldn’t stay open another moment, but just before you teetered off the edge of sleep, you heard a familiar slam. At least he was home safe.
white feather hawk tail deer hunter — when the winchesters show up on your door looking for help on a hunt, you are excited to finally meet the two boys bobby loves so much. however, things take a turn when dean lights a fire inside of you that hot summer night. (9k words)
dean winchester x bobby's "daughter"!reader, 18+ mdni, angst, smut, sex in the impala, no foreplay without loreplay, found family, little age gap (dean is like 27/28 you are like 21/22) but the vibe is there, use of "kid," patching him up after a hunt, some insecurity, reader has something to prove, dean is hesitant, secretive.
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