I Just See you - Peter Parker X Reader
!!WARNING INFINITY WAR SPOILERS!!
WARNINGS: INFINITY WAR SPOILERS, MENTIONS OF DEATH AND VIOLENCE, ANGST, SHIRTLESS PETER, MAKEOUT SESSION
REQUEST: @greedysiren Could you write me an Peter Parker x reader from Infinity war? Like somehow he came back or he doesn‘t disappear (I know it happend otherwise.. sadly.. I cried a lot..) and when he comes back to earth first thing he gets home to the reader and (only if you write smut) he needs to forget what he saw for a few minutes and just kiss and fuck the reader because he‘s just glad he madeit
A/N: I don’t write smut, (for this reason here) but I still wanted to do this request, so I made it slightly angsty and got as close to “smut” as I was comfortable
It had been a full 18 hours since I'd last heard from my web-slinging boyfriend. 18 hours since he'd jumped out of the bus. 18 hours since I told him I loved him and to be safe. It had been about 7 hours since the news reported him and his mentor Tony Stark missing.
Despite it being 2:00 in the morning, I hadn’t slept, hadn't stopped worrying. My eyes had remained red and puffy ever since the news reported him missing.
Millions of thoughts raced through my mind. Was he hurt? Was he safe? Was he alive? Each bad thought mixed together into a ball of anxiety and tears.
I looked at my phone, still no calls or texts from him, not even one from Tony Stark, who I know bad my number, due to Peter giving it to him just in case.
I dialed Peter's number, but after a couple seconds it went to voicemail. I let out a shaky sigh, waiting for the tone to leave a message.
"Peter, please come home, or at least let me know you're alive. . . please. I love you." I finished my sixth voicemail of the night. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes, tears of anger, frustration, sadness, worry.
"Dammit!" I yelled, throwing my phone into a pile of pillow in a fit of frustration.
It wasn't until 2:46 A.M. that I'd heard a knock on my apartment door. I hesitated for a second, not sure if what if heard was real or just my imagination. But then it happened again.
This time, I was quick to run to the front door, my fingers shaking as I undid the locks. As soon as I could, I swung the door open, my eyes instantly landing on the bruised and bloodied boy in front of me.
He was dressed in extremely baggy sweats, the Stark Industries logo was printed on the side of the pants, and he looked as though he'd just showered.
The only visible marks seemed to be his busted lip and a bruise that was beginning go form around his neck, but there was no telling what was under his clothes. His eyes were also red and watery, and he looked exhausted.
I let out a sigh of relief, instantly throwing my arms around him. He did the same, pulling me into him, and holding me tightly. "You're okay, you're okay," I whispered, more to myself than him. "I'm okay," he whispered back.
I finally released my death grip on Peter, standing back and crossing my arms. My eyes were glossed over with tear as my relief morphed into anger. "You're such an idiot." I stated, "Do you know I terrified I was? Why didn't you at least call?"
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice small and barely audible, "M-Mr. Stark took me to the compound, h-he wanted to make sure I was okay before I went home. A-and then aunt May, I had to see her to let her know I was okay."
"You can't do that to me Peter," I said in a soft voice, "You need to at least call me or have someone else call, okay?" He nodded, a few tears slipping from his eyes, the sight broke my heart.
"Come on, let's get you into some of your own clothes, yeah?" I said, taking his hand. He nodded, letting me lead him back to my room. I grabbed a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt out of my drawer, they were two of the many articles of clothing Peter had left here when Spiderman was suddenly needed.
Peter quickly switched pants, and tugged off his shirt, wincing as he did so. Large bruises littered his back and stomach, a few scrapes and bruises littering arms. My eyes went to the largest bruise, which was right over his ribs that were surely broken.
"Peter..." I breathed out, walking over to him.
"No you're not!" My fingers lightly traced over the bruise, examining it. Peter winced as I did so, letting out a groan.
"I'm getting you some ice for that," I said, leaving the room before he could protest. I quickly grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a towel and hurrying back to my room where Peter was.
When I got back, Peter was sitting on the edge of my bed, he hadn't bothered putting a shirt on.
His head hung low, and his eyes were squeezed shut.
I crouched down in front of him, getting on eye level, and placed the ice pack on the bed beside him. "Peter," I whispered, grabbing his trembling hands in mine, "Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me."
"I- I can't. . . It won't-" he stumbled over his words.
"Hey, take a deep breath," I said comfortingly, giving his hands a light squeeze. He did as I said, slowly inhaling and then letting out a long, deep, sigh.
"Every time, I close my eyes. . . I see them dying, I hear them. . . and I-I see Thanos. . . I see him grabbing me, and- I just want it to go away, I need to forget it, but I can't."
My heart broke at his confession, I couldn't even begin to fathom the chaos and pain he'd experienced.
"It's okay, you're okay," I soothed, I wanted to badly to help him, to make him forget all of the bad things that happened.
"Close your eyes," I whispered.
"But-" he tried to protest, but I cut him off, "Just trust me."
He hesitated, but did as I told him.
Peter's breathe quickened, obviously remembering a painful event. I let go of his hands and cupped his face, bringing him closer to me, my lips against his.
It was sweet and smooth, filled with longing and relief. I pulled away, taking in some much needed oxygen. Peter still had his eyes shut, but now instead of looking scared, he looked at peace.
"What do you see now?" I asked.
Peter's eyes fluttered open, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "I just see you."
I smiled, glad to see my plan had worked. I stood from my crouching position, "Why don't I make us some hot chocolate and we can watch old movies, yeah?"
I turned to walk to the door, but Peter grabbed my hand, pulling me into his lap, and crashing his lips into mine. This time, it was passionate and hungry, his hands cupped my face, pulling me in closer.
I let my hands slide up Peter's bare torso to the back of his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair, lightly tugging on his soft curls.
"I love you so much," he mumbled against my lips.
“I love you too, Peter Parker.”
