summary: Tension rises between you and Peter which leads to the two of you sleeping together, ultimately altering your friendship forever.
word count: 2.5k+
cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) nipple play
It's almost midnight when Peter checks his watch again and he feels so pathetic waiting up for you like this. He's been lying on your couch, watching your TV for six hours now and he's been counting down the minutes until you walk through the front door. You seemed so excited to go out with the girls and he's really happy that you have them. They seem like a solid group of friends and sometimes he can't help but feel jealous of that sometimes. He wishes he had a group he could rely on, but he does have to admit that he loves having you around.
Part of him wants to check your location to make sure that you're okay, but he always feels weird doing that. He knows that you gave it to him so he could check in on you, especially for nights like this, but he just ends up feeling like a creep.
You walk through the door just when he's about to give in and check and god do you look good. He didn't initially see your dress when you left because you were wearing your jacket, but now that he sees it, he can't help but stare. The striking red against your skin and the way it forms to your body like it was made for you makes him hard, especially when he thinks about getting you out of it.
You kick off your shoes as soon as you get inside, wondering how you always forget that heels are uncomfortable, especially when you go out dancing. You can feel Peter staring at you as you hang your coat up in the closet by the door, but you don't mind it. You're actually very flattered, feeling your face getting hot from all the attention.
"Thought you'd be in bed by now." It's not unusual to find Peter asleep on your couch but it's sweet that he waited up for you.
"Couldn't sleep." He's wide awake now that you're here and when you get closer, he has to pull the blanket over himself to make sure that you can't see the growing tent in pants. He know it's not obvious because of the low lamp lighting, but he still wants to save himself from the embarrassment.
"Well, I'm glad you're awake because I was really looking forward to snuggles." His heart always warms when you say things like that and he'd love nothing more than to have you in his arms right now. He knows it's dangerous because of how easy it is for him to slip into his fantasy where he's your boyfriend, but he couldn't care less. It's been a long week and he really needs this. "I'll go get changed while you pick out a movie. Unzip my dress for me?"
You feel bad that this was what you had been looking forward to all night. You had a lot of fun with the girls, but this, being here with Peter while you watch a dumb movie, is your happy place. He unzips your dress painfully slow, taking in your bare back. This is the most intimate thing you've done together and it feels like the most right thing in the world. You stand there once he's done, like you're waiting for something, and when he's about to ask what you need, you're making your way to your room, thanking him as you do so.
Peter follows you, wondering if you were wanting him to undress you like he thought. There had to be a reason for your hesitance and when you looked over your shoulder with that inviting look, he should have just gone for it.
You're already in one of his t-shirts that he let you take and a pair of those short pajama shorts that always drives him insane, taking off your makeup in your bathroom. Him unzipping your dress awakened something in you that you tried so hard to bury inside yourself and you needed a distraction otherwise you were going to do something very stupid.
Peter loves that you let him see these parts of you-how you let him in so easily. He wishes he could say the same for himself, but he'll get there eventually. Showing him your bare face isn't nearly the same as revealing that he's a superhero nor the fact that everyone he's ever loved has forgotten who he is. That's for another time.
He leans against the counter and reaches for a hand towel as you wash your face, having it read for when you're finished. Peter's sat here while you've gotten unready more times than he can count, but something feels…different.
You feel it too, he knows it, but you're acting like everything is normal and it's driving him crazy. And he can't ask draw attention to it because what if it's all in his head like always
You're the only person who's ever looked this good in bathroom lighting, he thinks once you've pat your face dry. He's so focused on staring at you that he almost doesn't hear you ask for your moisturizer. Your fingers brush when he passes it to you, the tension between you feeling palpable.
The look in your eyes shifts once you pull away, more flirty now than before. Once you're finished with your skincare, you reach for his hand and pull him back out into the living room.
The TV is still on as you both take a seat on the sectional. Peter reaches for the remote as he pulls you into his side, clicking through one of the many streaming services that you now share since you basically living together anyway. You do this pretty much every night, but you both have to admit there's something different tonight and it all changed with the dress.
"Pete, I love you, but I can't watch Shrek 2 again."
"What do you mean? You love Shrek 2."
"Yeah, when I haven't already seen it ten times in the past couple weeks." He knows you don't mean anything by it, but sometimes he just loves pushing your buttons. He loves to get a little rise out of you just because he loves the thrill.
"So what's an eleventh?"
"Peter, please. Come on."
"Just one more time." You reach for the remote but he holds it out of your grasp, giggles pouring from both your mouths. It's a juxtaposition to the gloomy, rainy weather outside and if you're being honest, this was exactly what you needed to end the night.
His back hits the couch and the remote is easily forgotten as you're now hovering over him, hands pressed to his shoulders as you look into his eyes. You're both caught off guard by the position you're in, especially when you realize that you're straddling his waist.
His face is washed in a blue light from the TV and you have to admit that you enjoy seeing how he's looking at you with wide eyes. Everything freezes in the moment and you're now wondering if he actually wants what you think he does or if it's all in your head. But when he reaches up, hand pressing against your cheek as his thumb runs across your bottom lip, you know he does.
He wets his lips and you find yourself slowly leaning forward until your lips slot between his. It's sweet and gentle, even a little awkward as you try to best to navigate it. You're the first to pull away, trying-and failing-to not get so in your head about it.
"I-I'm sorry-I shouldn't have-"
"No, it's okay. I wanted to." His voice is soft and reassuring, almost like he's trying to soothe a spooked animal and you can feel yourself falling in love with him all over again.
You go in for another, each more confident this time. Neither of you want to admit how badly you've wanted this but it's everything you could have ever imagined. His lips are soft and he's being so sweet like the gentleman he is.
One of his hands finds its way into your hair as your hands bunch up his shirt as his other slides up your own, pressing against your bare back. And when his tongue swipes along your bottom, you both know you're doing something that can never be undone.
You let out a moan as his tongue moves with yours and he can already feel himself getting hard. He's suddenly embarrassed by how much he needs you but you don't seem to care, somehow just as needy for him.
"Can I take this off?" He asks, referring to your shirt and you pull away, letting him remove it, time passing so slowly as he lifts it over your head. And as you sit there with your bare chest, you somehow don't feel uncomfortable. Being with Peter like this feels like the most natural thing in the world. "You look-wow."
He doesn't know what he was expecting your naked body to look like, but what he does know is that he'll never be able to get this image out of his head. Especially with the way the periodic lightning flashes across you, almost like the snap of a camera.
One of his hands reaches behind your back to hold you steady while his other goes for your nipple, twisting and turning as you let out a moan. Your hands are grabbing at his shirt over and over, bunching it in your fists as he continues. There's another flash of lightning and in those few seconds, you look fucking perfect-back arched, eyes shut tight as you continue to let out the hottest moans.
"Peter, oh my god," you whine and he's getting even harder as he watches you. "More."
He moves over to your other nipple, moving it this way and that, watching you come apart right there, trying your best to stay upright. When he sees that you're struggling, he lies you down, looking at you with those brown eyes that always somehow get you into trouble.
You pull off his shirt and he leans down, placing himself on top of you as his lips find yours once again. It's a little more heated as he pulls down your shorts and panties, tossing them to the side as you pull on the waistband of his sweatpants. It's clumsy and awkward, filled with giggles as you finally manage to get them off.
You should probably be more nervous but you're not. Maybe it's the little buzz you've still got from the one martini you had at the club, but you're pretty sure-positive-that it's just Peter. He has this calm about him which somehow makes you unable to be nervous around him.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks and he looks so adorable with his eyebrows furrowed, so worried that he might be offending you in some way.
"Positive. I have some condoms in my purse." He looks up at you as he's in the process of taking off his boxers, almost as if he's forgotten about using one entirely. He hurries over to the coat closet and comes back with a condom in hand, looking more nervous than he just was, making you wonder what he was thinking when he was looking through your purse.
"That's a lot of condoms."
"Josie threw them in there while I was getting ready and I didn't know until a couple fell out when I was getting my ID to show the bouncer."
"That doesn't surprise me." He climbs back onto the couch but you can tell that he's still thinking about it. You hate that he's letting it get to him, especially because you're here with him and no one else.
"Why do you care anyway?" You try to tread lightly, just wanting to squash the insecurity he's feeling right now.
"I don't."
"You don't have to be jealous, Pete." You reach up and run a hand through his hair-something that always seems to calm him down.
"I'm not."
"Look at it this way, guys asked me to go home with them tonight and all I wanted was to come home to you." He looks up at you with those damn brown eyes and for a second, you're convinced that they're watering.
"Really?" A smirk kicks up at the corner of his mouth and he's right back to his normal self.
"Really. Now come here." He leans down and his lips find yours once again as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them as much as you can and he finishes the job. He opens the condom and rolls it on before looking down at you for more reassurance.
He slowly lies down on top of you as you feel him slowly push inside of you. He's slow and gentle, constantly checking in as if your moans aren't an indication that he's doing it right. He just hasn't doesn't have much as much experience as you do so he needs the reassurance which you find adorable. Too many men only care getting what they want so you appreciate that he cares that you're enjoying yourself.
"You feel so good," he says as his hands find yours, fingers intertwining. His pace stays slow and steady and it's a breath of fresh air because apparently other men seem to think that you want it fast and hard because they do. But you should have known that Peter would be nothing more than a gentleman.
He's feeling embarrassed as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He was supposed to last longer but this is the first time he's been with someone in so long and he's really really glad that he doesn't have to use his hand tonight. The woman who's been the star of all of his late night fantasies is right under him and just thinking about it is making him get even closer to cumming.
"Oh my god," he whines as you buck your hips against his. You're keeping it slow and soft to match him and he's so appreciative of how gentle you're being. You listened when he told you that this whole thing made him nervous and he loves that you remembered after all this time.
Your hips continue to buck as he gets further inside and he's closer than you are, his head feeling dizzy as he finally reaches his peak. He's still thrusting as he orgasms, positive that this is the best he's ever felt, already wanting to chase the high.
"Fuck."
You talk him through the entire thing, even as he's coming down. He disposes of the condom then comes back with a wet wash cloth to clean the both of you up. He then lies on the sectional with you, pulling you to his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling one of the blankets over your bodies. It's in this moment that he's reached pure bliss and he doesn't think anything could ever ruin it.
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Summary: You and Peter sneak a bottle of champagne from one of your dad’s - Tony Stark’s - parties at the Avengers Tower. Giggling and hanging out in your room, one quiet moment leads to you almost confessing your feelings to your best friend.
Mcu!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
Fluff
1.2k Words
Posted on: 2-19-2025
masterlist
The bass from the party downstairs thrums through the walls of the Avengers Tower, muffled but insistent, like the pulse of New York City itself. You lean against the door to your bedroom, biting back a grin as Peter scrambles to follow you inside and shut the door behind him, cradling a stolen bottle of champagne like it was radioactive.
“I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” you whisper, your voice tinged with awe and laughter. You walk over to your bed and flop down on the mattress, Peter quick to follow.
He turns to face you, his boyish grin equal parts triumph and nervous energy. “What can I say? I thrive under pressure.” He wiggles the bottle in his hands. “Besides, it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to miss one bottle right?” You know he’s trying to convince both himself and you of this.
You let out a snort of laughter, crossing your legs as you got comfortable on your bed and as Peter sat next to you, leaning against the wall. “I sure hope not. We’re dead if he catches us. And by ‘we’, I mean you.”
Peter smirks, a teasing edge in his voice. “Good to know where your loyalties lie, Stark.”
You roll your eyes, but are unable to hide your smile as you reach and grab two mismatched mugs from your nightstand. One of them has a Spider-Man design on it that Peter had jokingly given you as a birthday present, and he secretly smiled to himself at the realization that you’d actually been using it.
“Here. Fancy drinking glasses for our super-classy operation.”
Peter chuckles and pops the cork with a loud pop, making both of you jump and laugh. Bubbles froth over the top, and he quickly pours some into the mugs in your hands, spilling more than he probably should.
“To bad decisions and avoiding your dad’s wrath,” Peter says, setting the bottle on the nightstand to grab his mug from you, holding it up in a mock toast.
“To bad influences,” you shoot back, clinking your mug against his. You both take a sip, eyes smiling at each other over the tops of the cups.
The champagne was sweet and fizzy, a little stronger than you had expected, but the warmth it brought to your chest was welcome. You scoot over you so you’re sitting next to Peter, your shoulders close enough to touch every time one of you moves.
“This is way better than listening to my dad schmooze with a bunch of billionaires,” you say after a minute or two of talking, tipping your mug towards Peter and resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.
“You mean you’re not interested in talks about stock portfolios and advanced AI?” Peter quips, raising a teasing eyebrow.
You laugh, the sound light and easy thanks to the drink. “Not even a little.”
The two of you settle into a rhythm of a familiar banter and conversation, the champagne loosening any nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed this much. Peter was good at that - at making you forget the weight of expectations, the constant pressure to be more than just the Tony Stark’s daughter.
Somewhere in the middle of a story about one of Peter’s disastrous attempts to ask a girl to homecoming freshman year, you found yourself staring at him. His face was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. The soft glow of the city lights through your window and your desk lamp cast golden highlights in his hair, and his eyes—warm and expressive—crinkled at the corners when he laughed. It was one of your favorite things about him.
You didn’t realize you were smiling until Peter stopped mid-sentence, turning his head to meet your gaze.
“What?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.
You shake your head, heart fluttering in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle. Damn, this champagne was making it hard to think… it totally wasn’t Peter that was causing your brain to short-circuit, right?
“Nothing. Just… you’re really great, you know that right? I’m glad you're my best friend.”
Peter blushes, looking at his mug and trying, but failing, to suppress a smile. “Thanks, y/n. I’m glad you’re my best friend too.”
He turns his head to look at you again, and your breath catches, the words hanging between the two of you like a live wire. For a moment, you think he might say something more—something that you were also thinking, something that would change your friendship forever.
Another moment of silence passes as you just stare into each other’s eyes. You get a sudden urge of confidence, thanks to the effects of the alcohol neither of you were very familiar with.
“Peter, I–”
A loud boom from outside causes you both to jump, and your heads turn to look out your window, where you see an array of fireworks going off, some in the shape of Iron Man’s helmet. It was as if Tony was listening in on you and purposely stopped you from saying what you were about to confess.
Great timing, dad. Thanks a lot.
Peter laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad sure knows how to throw a party,” he turns to meet your eyes, but looks away quickly with a shy smile, still blushing from your almost-confession.
You laugh softly, also avoiding Peter’s gaze and fixing your stare to your mug. “No kidding.” You didn’t know if you were thankful for the interruption or should yell at your dad later for setting off his stupid fireworks. Maybe it was for the better, though; Peter seemed to want to ignore it, so maybe you should too.
What you hadn’t noticed, though, was that Peter had also been staring at you all night, just as much as you were staring at him, if not more.
Thankfully, the effects of the champagne hadn’t quite faded yet, so the awkwardness between you two faded as quickly as it had appeared; something that always seemed to be happening to the two of you.
You bump your shoulder against Peter’s. “Wanna head back out there?”
Peter smiles at you, taking a sip of his champagne. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. Besides, I think it would be pretty obvious that we’ve been, you know, having fun up here.”
You blush at the accidental insinuation that Peter had just made, but you knew he only meant that you had been drinking. He seemed oblivious to it though, so you decided not to make a joke about it and spare yourselves any more awkwardness.
“True,” you say with a soft laugh, “I’d rather be here too, anyways. You don’t totally suck to hang out with.”
Peter laughs softly and it’s his turn to bump your shoulder with his, the slight contact almost making you shiver. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not so bad yourself.”
You spent the next hour or two doing the same thing you always did—making each other laugh and testing the hell out of Peter. And, even though neither of you said what you were really thinking, it was okay. You knew there would be other moments—other nights like this where the words might finally spill out.
For now, this was enough.
Thank you for reading! My first mcu!peter fic yay!! I have lots more in my drafts lol, so lmk if u wanna see more of himmmm. Tom Holland was my first ever celebrity crush and I am a MASSIVE Marvel fan, so this Peter holds a special place in my heart :) Again, thanks for readin and I hope you liked itttt! xoxo
pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader
summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.
warnings: swearing, mentions of guns
word count: 3.4k
a/n: idk why i’m so scared to post this but my tummy hurts. hopefully it’s something you’ll all like. feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3
series masterlist / main masterlist
“Guess what!” Harry bounced in his seat, while he leaned forward putting his empty oyster pail down on the coffee table.
“What?” Elijah mumbled through a mouthful of noodles.
You, Harry, and Elijah were all gathered at Harry’s penthouse for dinner, like you always did every Sunday evening since your first year of college. It had become a tradition most holy, and the consequences for skipping it so profound no one dared try after that one Monday morning Harry had to swim across the Turtle Pond in Central Park in the middle of February, with two cops angrily yelling at him from each side of the pond. After, when he’d stumbled onto dry land, teeth chattering, the cop had given him a ticket. And Harry had, quote “Almost frozen his balls off”, but afterwards he’d never miss a Sunday dinner.
“Thanks to yours truly–” he paired his dramatic pause with two hands pointing at himself, “Crimson Goblins are playing its first gig at The Living Room the third Saturday in January!” he finished with a smug smile.
You almost choked on your dim sum. You guys were playing a gig? Your first ever gig? And at The Living Room?
You'd only been to the dingy underground club a couple of times, the first time when both Harry and Elijah had dragged you there to see some metal band whose vocalist was trying a little too hard to be like Bryan from Knocked Loose. But you hadn't necessarily minded that the singer had been a little bit of a try hard, because the music had been good, and besides, when you were getting pushed around in the mosh pit, your cheeks burning from the stretch of your mouth while the bass vibrated in your chest, the music didn't really matter. You’d been a sweaty mess by the time they’d played their last song, and your heart had been full of bubbling laughter. But now it was yours’s, and Elijah’s and Harry’s turn to be the background music to a sweaty mosh pit circling the sticky floor of The Living Room on a Saturday night.
“Harold…” you sighed, “how are we gonna be able to play a gig in a little over a month when Gwen quit last month? We can’t play without a guitarist”.
There laid a curse over Crimson Goblins, it seemed. You couldn’t for the life of you hold down a guitar player. You’d gone through about four other guitar players already, before Gwen said she wanted to join right after this semester had started. But then one day you couldn’t get a hold of her. And then a week went by. And another, without hearing from her, before you found three letters in your school mailbox, addressed to you, Harry and Elijah, signed in a curly handwriting “Gwen”.
Written out on three identical postcards (Greetings from Bogotá) she’d written you all a goodbye letter, saying she’d had somewhat of a mental breakthrough. College wasn’t for her, she’d written, then she’d quit, subleased her apartment, scraped together all her money, and hopped on the first plane leaving JFK. She needed a change of scenery– to find herself again.
At first, her letter made your stomach turn. Her mental breakthrough sounded more like a mental breakdown to you. So, you’d gone to her apartment, and just like she’d written in her letter, someone else was living there now. Then you’d sent her texts, checking up on her, and to your surprise she sounded completely fine. You’d had a long phone conversation, where she told you all about her breakthrough. She sounded okay! And you were relieved when she looked happier than ever in the Instagram stories she’d posted. You were happy for her – you really were – but now Crimson Goblins were down a guitar player, again.
“Yeah! What y/n said,” Elijah agreed beside you, his chopsticks pointing at Harry.
You loved Elijah, all 6’4 of him, and he was probably the bestest friend you had (even before Harry). You’d met on the first day of college as you were both majoring in visual art at Empire State University, a relatively new major at ESU, being only a few years old. You’d looked around at your new peers, finding it hard to pinpoint who you’d click with. But then your eyes had fallen on him, standing alone in the corner, and you’d known.
He’d stuck out like a sore thumb, with his long black hair tied back in a low bun, he was dressed all in black, wearing a band t-shirt adorning some Norwegian death metal band you didn’t know (They were named Darkthrone, and later you’d learnt that they were his favorite band). Both of his arms and his neck were covered in tattoos, and towering over everybody, he looked like someone you shouldn’t mess with.
You quickly learned that, although Elijah was shy and quiet, he was also the sweetest, most loyal, talented, and sensitive person you knew. He’d had a turbulent childhood; he was half Mexican, and after a nasty divorce, his parents split up when he was around nine years old. After a round in court, his father ended up with sole custody of him, Elijah only being allowed to visit his mother once a year. The divorce had economically ruined his mother, and one summer when he was fifteen, she moved back to her family in Mexico. That one time a year he’d been allowed to see her, now reduced to zero.
His father owned a big-ish company, manufacturing and selling bespoke equipment to bigger corporations, like Stark Industries or Oscorp. Being his father’s only son, it was expected of him to someday take over the company, but Elijah had never been interested in anything related to his father’s company. He liked art, he liked music, he liked poetry – something his father hated with a scarlet rage. Elijah could never live up to his father’s expectations of him, like trying to wedge a star through the square hole of those toddler toys you’d see at the doctor’s office. But it didn’t stop his father from trying. The solution had been to ship him off to boarding school after boarding school. To places where they could teach him to be a “real man”.
You’d met his father once. He’d come to your class’ last art exhibition before the summer, last semester. You don’t even know how you would describe him. He looked like every other generic white man in his fifties: his hair was nothing special, it was just short. His suit looked like every other suit you saw walking down the busy streets of New York City every day… there was just nothing that stood out, that made him unique in any way, which was surprising given how you’d come to know his son.
The only thing you had remembered about him had been his eyes. Those lifeless blue eyes had looked so different from Elijah’s warm, honey brown, it had been a drastic shock. How your sweet Elijah had come from that monster of a man was a mystery to you. The only thing he’d inherited, as far as you could tell, was his height. He’d stopped by Elijah’s tapestry (maybe tapestry was the wrong word. It was more like a woven 3D sculpture hanging from the ceiling made entirely of yarn depicting a chaos of red), looked at it, moved through it, and nodded. That had been it. He’d shook his son’s hand, and then yours’ and asked if “that was all?”.
You hated that man, you really did, but without him you wouldn’t have met Harry. It was through his father’s business connections that Elijah had met Harry. They’d been acquaintances ever since they were children, but it wasn’t until they met again at ESU randomly one autumn morning during your first year that they’d rekindled their friendship. And that’s how you’d met Harry.
Being one of ESU’s most sought after, and popular, rich boys’ friend, had not been at all how you’d imagined your college career to go. Harry majored in business – which he hated. He didn’t have much of a science brain, so his father had encouraged him to go into business instead. The parallels between Elijah’s and Harry’s father/son relationships were strong you quickly understood as you got to know them both better.
Where Elijah could be solemn and sensitive, Harry was the opposite – always the life of the party, with a flair for the extravagant. But as different as they were, there was still one more thing both Elijah and Harry had in common other than overbearing fathers, and that was your band: Crimson Goblins. It had somehow along the way become a way for them to let out all their frustrations, with Elijah drumming hard on the drums, while Harry screamed his feelings into the microphone.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that, younglings” Harry liked to call you and Elijah that, even if you were both born months before him, “I have that all sorted out”.
You were just about to ask what he had ‘all sorted out’, but before a word left your mouth you heard what you thought was gunfire outside.
“Did you guys hear that?” you asked, “Was that a gunshot?”. You got up from the couch, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of Harry’s penthouse, looking down at the streets below.
“It was probably just a car” Harry tried to brush off. You were about to object, but before you could speak a word, you heard a series of loud bangs, followed by people down below running away from something.
“No, Harry! It was defini– FUCK!”.
Scared, you jumped away from the window. A set of white mechanical eyes looked back at you. Spider-Man was looking back at you. He’d swung in from god knows where and landed right in front of your face, sticking to Harry’s window. Staring back at him, his shoulders shook, and his eyes emoted what you could only describe as, without seeing his mouth quirk at the corners or hear the mystery man’s laugh, a chuckle.
Coming up behind you Harry pulled you back into his body with a reassuring arm around your shoulder. Spider-Man’s gaze shifted from yours to Harry’s, and you swore you could see a hint of recognition in the white.
Then you heard the bang of another gunshot, but this time it was much louder. That seemed to remind the masked vigilante about why he’d landed on Harry’s window. He lifted his hand to his temple in a salute, looking straight at Harry, before he pushed back off the window in a free fall.
You twisted out of Harry’s grip around your shoulders and leapt towards the window. Looking down, you saw how Spider-Man swung from the buildings before he landed right in the middle of the shootout below.
Joined by Harry and Elijah, you watched as he took out gunman after gunman. He moved with a delicate precision in his moves, it was like watching a dance. A dance his enemies didn’t know. One by one they hit the ground. Taken out by the not so friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
It was over so quickly. It seemed like Spider-Man hadn’t had much of an adversary force against him. You watched as he moved towards a man crawling towards a black car. The man, the only one left standing (or sitting? Limping?). Spider-Man grabbed him by his jacket, pushing him hard against the car. He pushed him so hard, you could see a dent form in the shape of the man. Then Spider-Man hit him, repeatedly.
An ice-cold chill traveled down your spine at the sheer violence. Off in the distance sirens yelled. You wanted to look away, but it was impossible, the violence of the act almost hypnotizing you. He pulled back occasionally, screaming something in the man’s face. When he didn’t get the answer he wanted, another punch came swinging.
The avenues below lit up in red and blue, as what looked like a whole precinct arrived. At the sound of the sirens moving closer, Spider-Man threw the man to the ground, the same way you would throw a sack of potatoes. Then he shot a web and swung away, vanishing in the December night.
You three stood watching the drama unfold down below in silence for a while. The police had arrived too late to catch the vigilante in red and blue and were now left with the clean-up. When the last ambulance had driven away, Elijah spoke, breaking the silence, “I think it’s over now”.
“Have you met him before?” you asked Harry, turning towards him.
“Who?” Harry asked confused, “Spider-Man?”.
“Yeah! It looked like he recognized you” you said.
“What? Nooo” he countered.
He walked back over to the couch where he sat down, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He fished one out, brought it to his lips where it dipped as he leaned over the table again for his lighter.
“He’s probably seen me on TV with my dad or something” he said as he lit his cigarette with a shaky hand.
“Do you need to do that now?” you sighed as you dropped down on the couch again.
“Just because you two quit, doesn’t mean I have to!” he blew his first breath of smoke teasingly in your face. You narrowed your eyes at him while you waved the smoke away from your face.
“What happened to solidarity man?” Elijah argued back, still leaning against the glass window.
“I’m sorry younglings! I did try! It’s not my fault I couldn’t last for more than a week” Harry apologized, “And I need one after seeing all of that”, he stressed cocking his head in the direction of the window, while taking another drag.
“But inside?” you whined.
“It’s my home… and Peter doesn't mind” he downplayed.
“You let Peter live here for free– I think he accepts whatever you do if it means he can still live here, all expenses paid”.
This time Harry narrowed his eyes at you, clearly offended, he said, “Peter’s my sugarbaby” emphasizing the ‘my’ with a hand pressed to his chest, “and I love him–” he was about to say something more, something witty, you could see it in the way the left side of his mouth quirked up a little. But before he could speak, he was cut off by the ding of the elevator, and Peter waltzing in shortly after.
He didn’t seem to notice you three. He flung off his backpack, where it hit the ground with a hard thump before he casually kicked off his shoes. The white cord of his earbuds snaked its way from his jacket pocket and up his body. You could just about hear a low steady buzzing coming from them, with how quiet you’d all become.
You didn’t know what your thoughts about Peter were, if you were being completely honest. He’d been Harry’s roommate for years. They’d shared a dorm together during your first year. But when the semester started again after New Year’s they’d moved out of their moldy dorm and into Harry’s penthouse.
Peter was always so anonymous. He stuck to himself for the most part, and you’d never seen him with anyone except for Harry. It seemed like he didn’t know or cared to get to know anyone else. Technically you’d known him for years, but you didn’t think you’d ever had a conversation with him alone lasting longer than two sentences.
Harry talked about him all the time. Telling you and Elijah stories, or funny things Peter had said. But you could never make the picture Harry painted of Peter match with the Peter standing before you now. Harry always told you, every time you’d make a face when he mentioned Peter’s name, that if you’d just give Peter a chance, you’d realize that you two are a lot more alike than you think. You didn’t know what Harry meant by that. And each time you asked he wouldn’t tell you, only saying that you should find out yourself. But you never did. Did that make you a bad person? Had Peter simply only given you a bad first impression? Was he actually the most amazing person on the planet, but you just never gave him a chance?
If you were being completely honest with yourself, the reason why you never tried to get to know Peter, was because he didn’t try to get to know you. He never looked your way, never initiated conversation with you, not even a hello. It hurt a little. The disinterest he exuded towards you. Maybe he just didn’t like you.
So instead, you just watched his life from afar. How he always seemed to be running late to class, every time you saw him on campus. And when you sometimes stayed the night at Harry’s place, he’d always come home late. You’d asked Harry once what kind of job Peter had, since he was out so late every night, and Harry had told you that Peter didn’t have a job. Nothing seemed to add up with him. And the more you asked Harry, the more he wouldn’t tell you.
“Hey, baby,” Harry said, “how was the library?”.
Peter had taken his earbuds out now, waddling tiredly into the living room where you were all seated.
“It was alright…” he trailed off when he noticed you and Elijah, “Ehm… I got my physics homework done, finally!”.
“Nice!” Harry took another drag of his cigarette before he put it out in the old jam jar he used as an ashtray, “I was just about to tell them about the thing”.
“Oh! Right” Peter nodded as he wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, rubbing it.
“What thing?” you were confused.
“I asked Peter to be our guitarist!” Harry exclaimed excitedly.
Now you were even more confused, “Does he even know how to play?”.
“Does he know how to play? Of course he knows how to play!” Harry countered enthusiastically, “Peter said he’s been playing guitar since he was ten! Right, Peter?”, Peter gave him a confirming nod, “He just hasn’t played in a while so he might be a little rusty”.
A little rusty? You let out a sigh, dropping your head in your hands for a second.
“We are so fucked,” you let out in a groan, but Harry waved you off.
“We are not fucked,” he corrected you. You looked up at him, raising a sarcastic eyebrow. You guys were so fucked.
“The gig is in like a month, Harry– how’s he gonna have time to learn all the songs with finals soon, and Christmas and New Year’s?” you asked him.
“I’m gonna help him y/n! Don’t worry! We already started practicing last night” Harry tried to reassure you.
You were not convinced, and with Peter’s body language, he didn’t exactly exude confidence, you were honestly a little scared for your band.
“You don’t even know how to play Harry, how’re you gonna be any help to him?” Elijah sighed.
“What’s with all of this negativity guys? You should be thanking Peter for stepping in!” Harry said, shaking his head.
He was about to go on a dramatic spiel, you could sense it. “Here we are, hopeless and lost, drowning our feelings in Chinese food. No hope in sight for our little band. And then Peter comes in, saving the day and the band! And you’re complaining? I’m shocked you guys! I really am! And no, I’m not mad at you– I’m just really really disappointed” he wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.
Behind you could hear the heavy sigh coming from Elijah’s mouth before two heavy hands landed on each of your shoulders.
“Peter,” he said, “I’m sorry! Of course you’re more than welcome in our band! If you still want to– we would love for you to be our guitarist”.
You watched as Peter slowly looked from Harry, who was nodding his head enthusiastically like a dad cheering on his son from the sidelines at a soccer game, to Elijah, and then to you. Locking eyes with him, you felt like the wind got knocked out of you for a second. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he said,
“Yeah… ok! I’m in”.
next: one
tagging some mutuals (ignore me 🤪): @hollandweather, @luciwritesstuff, @userholland, @t-lostinworlds, @mayal0pez, @lnmp89, @melodicheauxx-lacritiquexx, @silkscream, @peterdarlingg, @justapurrcat
𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb
and i might spend all summer with her on my mind
with peter parker. summer romance with him omg shut up.
college!peter x out of state!reader
peter knew he thought about you. all the time, actually. more than he knows he should, and definitely when he knows he's supposed to be thinking of other things.
like his chemistry lab, or his econ final, or not face planting into the wall in front of his face while he's swinging. you know, other things. yet, every time he attempts to refocus, his train of thought seems to veer further off its tracks. they stumble into dangerous territory, into thoughts of how pretty you'd looked in class that morning or how soft your skin looked or, or how desperately kissable you looked when he caught you looking up at him from across the library later that afternoon.
he doesn't even think he realized how much you occupied his thoughts, truly, until after the term had ended. until it all clicked, and he realized he wasn't going to be seeing you again until september. that, this wasn't like high school anymore and, instead of living a couple of blocks away like his old friends had, you were flying back to your hometown in two days and he'd be thousands of miles away.
"hey, peter," you stop him in the quad.
"yeah?" he asks, begging and pleading and hoping you don't see the way his cheeks have flushed in the ten seconds since you'd gathered his attention.
"keep in touch?" you say, fingers twiddling with a piece of paper you'd torn from your planner. it's just the corner, barely smaller than the palm of your hand when unfolded with your phone number scrawled across it in a glitter gel pen.
you're already starting to step past him when his mouth starts to form syllables again. "you wanna- yeah, oh- yeah, definitely, keep in touch."
"see you in the fall, peter," you call over your shoulder, only a foot and a half away from him at this point.
↪︎ summary: a day of zoom classes leads to cuddles with peter.
↪︎ warnings: online school, making out, mentions of headaches.
↪︎ type: oneshot - fluff
↪︎ w/c: 0.9k
―︎―︎―︎―︎✂︎︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎―︎
your eyes flick between your laptop screen to your notebook as you took note of everything your teacher was saying.
being a student in quarantine was hard. sure, working during quarantine was harder but you got to see the outside world. your dad was majorly overprotective of you, always saying that you weren't allowed to exit the avengers compound.
“not even in the suit?” you asked him with a frown on your face, following him around the big building.
“not even in the suit,” he confirmed, making you groan.
“come on dad, i’m perfectly protected in the suit. why not use it to its advantage?”
he stopped in his tracks and he sighed as he turned to you, his eyes leaving the folders he was holding.
“look honey, i just want you to be safe. and even if you use your suit, it would take hours to clean, so my answer is still no.” your dad, tony stark, firmly stated and you huffed, turning on your heel and going to your room, but not before mumbling a slightly sad ‘okay’ to him so that he knows you heard him.
but you were somewhat happy that he denied your request of going outside because there was no reason to go. sure, you miss your friends but you almost always facetimed even before the pandemic started. you hate being confined inside the house but you do love eating, sleeping and repeating that process.
you were looking at the screen for so long now and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lighting of your computer. you already lowered the brightness of your laptop but you couldn’t move it any lower because you couldn't see the powerpoint presentation. your sight was getting slightly blurry, despite wearing those anti-radiation glasses your dad gave you. midtown was requiring your cameras to be open during the zoom call and you could see the faces of your classmates. some people looked tired, some were asleep, some were eating and some of them weren't even there. but you were listening intently as your teacher was discussing.
you checked the time and saw that there was only 2 minutes for your teacher to wrap up the lesson. he called out some students to listen but gave up easily because no one would listen to him so he just kept discussing.
you told him that he extended the class a little and he took note of that fairly quickly and you figured it was because he was as tired as the students here. he quickly told the class that everyone was dismissed and the students left the meeting room while he was saying that. you left after a proper goodbye to him and then you rushed out of your chair and then plopped on your bed.
you heard a chuckle from the edge of your king-sized bed and you looked up, seeing your boyfriend looming over the bed.
“you tired, baby?” peter asked, finally sitting on your bed and drew circles on your ankle with his thumb. you hummed, snuggling deeper into the pillows. he laughed sweetly and started to take his hoodie off, leaving him in his t-shirt and sweatpants as he climbed on the bed next to you, helping you put his hoodie on.
he wrapped an arm around your waist as you wrapped yours around his, snuggling closer into his chest. you could feel his heartbeat, matching your breathing with his.
“do you think they’d find out?” you asked him, question muffled by his shirt but he was still able to hear.
“that we live together? in the avengers compound? with the avengers themselves cause we’re avengers too?” peter completed your question for you and you nodded.
he sighed dramatically. “well, i hope they don’t. i don’t want my secret identity to be revealed,”
you giggled. “i mean, everyone in the world knows who i am. come on parker, I'm y/n stark, who wouldn’t know about me?” you teased while your lips were softly kissing his neck.
he flipped you so that your back was on the mattress and he was hovering on top of you. he ducked his head so that his lips touched your neck and sucked lightly at your skin.
You shivered, your head tilting to the side to give him more of your neck. He made his way from your neck, to your jaw, to your cheek, and then finally reaching their destination, your lips.
it was a little sloppy but you wouldn’t want anything else. it was very rare to find these moments especially these days with schoolwork piling up, avenger stuff, and a lot of other responsibilities. so you were thanking every god up there for this wonderful way to rest. peter buried his face in your chest.
“‘m tired,” peter complained, voice muffled. you carded your fingers through his hair, carefully untangling the knots.
“me too, baby. me too,” you told him as he climbed up the pillows so that his chin was resting on your head.
“let’s sleep for a bit, yeah? homework could wait.” peter told you while soothingly rubbing your arms. you smiled sleepily at him and decided that he was right. you two really needed rest. so you moved closer to him and soon enough, you were asleep in his arms.
peter heard your breathing even out. he looked down at your sleeping figure and smiled. you looked so peaceful, breathing through your nose as your soft snores filled the room, nuzzling your face into his chest.
he leaned down and kissed your forehead and murmured against your skin, “sleep well, baby.”
how about an enemies to lovers (because yk im a sucker for it sksksk) with mcu!peter where they are set up for a blind date on christmas eve and when they find out they’re like, “you?!” okay bye 😭
Thank you for the request! I loved writing this one even though I feel like I suck at writing enemies to lovers haha. I hope you like it though! Excuse the writing I might be a bit rusty.
WC: 1.6k (I got carried away)
This was dumb.
In fact, it was the definition of a dumb thing to do at Christmas and yet here you were on Christmas eve, waiting in the freezing cold for your blind date to show up. A date you had been avoiding for months.
Your best friend had been trying to fix you up with someone in order to ‘lift your holiday cheer’ and knowing that your last breakup was the last straw in a long line of unsuitable suitors. You still regretted drunkenly telling her that she could pick who you dated from then on since your taste seemed questionable at best.
You didn’t expect her to take the joke so seriously. And after excuses of finals, family visits and unexplained illnesses, here you were at an ice skating rink of all places.
The bitter cold gnawed at your face, the only part of your skin that was exposed to the chill. You felt the time tick by slowly, starting to believe you had been stood up or if there was even someone coming at all. It wouldn’t be the first cruel joke of the year but you knew your friend wouldn’t do this to you.
You were just about ready to give up, grab a hot chocolate and go home. A cheesy christmas movie to watch about two strangers falling in love sounded perfectly bittersweet right about now.
Within the blink of an eye something flew across the street nearby, gaining the attention of passersby. You heard some kids talking about seeing a superhero swing by and had to check it out but before you could move two steps forward through the snowy New York streets, someone came running up to you.
Someone oddly familiar and not at all welcoming.
Peter Parker. Your famed college rival with a smartass and good looks to match. He seemed to beat you to every question, every class and every photography job for the school paper.
You looked down at your phone, hoping he would walk past to someone else and not confirm your suspicions that he was your blind date. Your warm breath clouded the screen as you scrolled through your facebook feed, not daring to look up.
“Y/N?”
You scrunched up your face and bit your lip as you glanced up, noticing that Peter was just as surprised to see you as you had been to see him. He was trying to catch his breath even though his apartment was only around the corner.
“Please don’t tell me-”
“I’m your date.”
Suspicions confirmed. You tried to hide your sigh of disdain, mainly towards your friend and smiled slightly at him. She was always saying how cute the both of you would be as a couple and when you’d finally ‘hook up’ but up until now you thought she had been joking.
Sure, Peter had good looks and a certain charm about him that was easy to fall for but you were not going to be another girl caught up in his web. He always pretended he was oblivious to the looks he got from others and the flirtatious jokes they would make but no one was that innocent especially not a college student who was top of his class.
“Something wrong?” Peter caught your distant gaze and bit his lip, a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m sorry I’m late, I got caught up in something.”
“It’s fine.” You smiled and thought you’d make the most of it since you were both here, finals finished and Christmas just around the corner. What was the worst that could happen?
Turns out that attempting to ice skate was the worst that could happen. You ended up spending more time on your ass then on your feet and that’s only when Peter wasn’t trying to catch you from falling.
“Here.” Peter outstretched his hand towards you after another magnificent fall, a kind smile on his face that rubbed you the wrong way.
You took his hand with a sigh and was surprised when he didn’t let go, continuing to skate around the rink whilst keeping you balanced.
“I bet you’re loving this aren’t you?”
Peter turned his head towards you, skating like a pro and keeping his balance even when he wasn’t looking where he was going. You were surprised he wasn’t doing tricks around the rink.
“Loving what?”
“Me failing.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, feeling embarrassed. As if the date wasn’t bad enough. Although holding a nice warm hand wasn’t too bad of a feeling.
Peter stopped you by skating in front, keeping a hold of your hands and looking you in the eye with a serious look. “No one can be great at everything. Not even someone as smart and as pretty as you.”
Your eyes went wide at his words, cheeks burning pink in spite of yourself. Peter quickly brushed and stumbled over what he had said but you smirked and poked his side with your free hand.
“You think I’m pretty?”
Peter laughed and tried to hide his cheeks that were burning red before jokingly taking his hand away. You gasped and dragged him back as you nearly fell, pulling him a bit too close to you. His chest was almost pressed up against you, his warm breath fanning your face as his laughter died down.
Your lips were so close that if you moved any closer you would be kissing Peter, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and finding out what it would be like to kiss him. You quickly shook off that feeling as you pulled away from Peter, a stranger struggling to skate and balance bombarding straight through the both of you and almost sending you flying once more.
Peter caught you with expert reflexes in a dip position, smiling down at you before helping you up. “I didn’t expect you to fall for me so much and so quickly.”
“Oh shut up Parker.” You pushed at his chest and hid your blush by skating away from him, holding onto the railings as you made your exit off of the rink. You’d had enough of embarrassing yourself for one day.
Peter wasn’t far behind you as he caught up quickly and sat by you on a bench near the outdoor heater.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked tentatively, offering his coat to wrap around you as he noticed you shivering. You gave him a slight smile and draped his coat over your shoulders, enjoying the scent of cologne that filled your senses.
“I just didn’t expect you of all people to show up tonight.” You regretted the harsh words as soon as they left your lips, turning to watch the ice skaters.
“Oh.” Peter’s face fell as did the usual cheery tone in his voice. “I thought you knew that I asked your friend to set us up.”
You immediately looked back at him in surprise and raised a brow. “You asked them to set up the date?”
Peter sensed the surprise and disbelief on your face and in your voice and slowly nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he realized something had gotten lost in communication.
“Y-yeah. I wanted to ask you out but I was too shy and every time I tried to talk to you, you looked busy.” Peter shrugged his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at the heater beside him.
You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, a welcome warmth from the cold but your body still sat frozen in shock. It suddenly felt like a very weird dream that you had had once where Peter had surprised you with a kiss under the mistletoe.
“Why?”
It was the only question that fell from your lips even though there were a million rushing around in your mind. Peter’s lips quirked upwards as he looked back at you, his own cheeks turning pink.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Peter spoke gently, as if it were only the two of you in the world, placing his gloved hand over yours. You looked at him dumbfounded and shook your head slowly. Maybe Peter wasn’t the only oblivious one.
“I like you Y/n.”
Your heart increased its speed tenfold as you heard Peter utter those words, the ones you didn’t know you had been waiting for. It was as if a new door had opened, a door to a whole new possibility.
Peter didn’t hate you, he had a crush on you. And maybe you had a crush on him too.
Suddenly, everything made sense. The looks he gave you weren’t looks of annoyance or of jealousy and when he asked for your help he wasn’t trying to rub it in your face that he could already do something like you knew he could.
“Y/n?” Peter noticed you were staring off into the distance once more and tried to catch your attention back to earth. “Y/n are you-”
“I-I like you too.”
Your voice was quiet and nervous, unsure of if you should say it back but knowing it was how you felt and maybe it was how you’d felt for a long time.
“Really?” Peter’s smile widened, challenging the stars with how bright it was. “I mean great, that’s great!”
You giggled and blushed harder, meeting Peter’s gaze. The date suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
“You want to grab a hot chocolate?”
You nodded eagerly and kissed Peter’s rosy cheek, getting up from your seat. This time you were the one to outstretch your hand to him and welcomed the warmth of his hand joined in yours.
There we were, standing out on the Statue of Liberty. My tears joining with the light rain drops falling on my face. I didn’t want this to end.
“Right person, wrong time right?” Peter looked down at me.
His smile was soft, he tried to make this lighter than it was. I would forget about him, I would forget about all the memories we made.
It wasn’t just me, everyone would forget about him. Everyone would forget how much he’s sacrificed and what he’s gone through.
We stood there quietly, my lip trembling but not from the cold. My arms wrapped around him, wanting to feel him for the last time with these memories.
“We can be strangers. We can start over and be strangers.”
He looked down, blinking away his tears.
“I’ll pretend to not know your favorite color. I’ll act like i don’t know your middle name.” he listed out things, but hearing it just hurt me more.
He bit on his lip repeatedly, gnawing at the chapped skin. His eyes were surrounded with red.
“or how you love my fingers dragging on your back while you sleep.” I sniffled at the mention of the little details. My eyes getting puffy from the amount of tears.
“We’ll find each other again. I’d do it again and again.” I mumbled out.
“I’ll find you.” he pulled me into a tighter hug, his lips pressing at the top of my head.
We stood there until Strange told us that we had to leave. Leaving behind years of friendship and bickering. Leaving behind everything.
