#peter is adorable

[calianaartdump]

@erinwantstowrite

Omg i love tiny Peter so I drew dick and baby peter cause why not :D

Peter totally got his dads genes

[abi7100]

Tony: *In the middle of playing hide n' seek with Peter, five hours in, on the verge of tears, unable to find him*

Peter: *sleeping peacefully on the top shelf in Tony's closet*

[luvskywalker]

nancy drew: peter parker x reader

(tasm peter was in mind while i wrote this but i’m preeetttyyy sure it can go for any of them!)

word count- 2.1k

warnings- maybe a curse word? and the threat of jumping off a roof (in good fun!! it’s not serious)

he was a liar. you could tell he was lying, you knew him better than you knew yourself. he was your best friend, so naturally you were very well educated, graduated summa cum laude from the school of peter parker and his doings. you knew that whenever he lied, he’d either fidget with the hem of his shirt just slightly or his voice would raise the smallest bit. and that was when he was lying well. usually, you didn’t need to find a tick to tell when he was lying, because it was painfully obvious to the point where you almost felt bad for him. the other week, he lied to you and told you he had to feed his cat, as if he isn’t allergic to them. and as if you wouldn’t remember he didn’t even own a cat. the only thing escaping your mind was why he was lying to everyone lately. it was time you took the knowledge you’d garnered from reading nancy drew in the third grade and put it to good use. you would find out why peter was lying, and there was no time like the present, so you walked out your door and to school with determination in your steps.

close observance was a part of your detective work, and so at lunch you decided to watch peter very intently.

“hey peter, can you pass me that napkin?” you asked, noticing he’d stolen your plastic silverware packet to eat the little yogurt that came with your school lunch.

he glanced at you quickly and nodded his head a bit too much.

“yea sure of course.”

weird.

“you look like a bobble head. just give me the napkin, weirdo.”

he stopped nodding and went to hand you the napkin, but when he passed it to you, it stuck to his hand for a second.

even weirder.

“thanks.”

he nodded again, because he knew if he spoke his voice would do the raisey thingy it does when he’s lying.

his brown eyes were wide, like a deer in the headlights.

“what’s up with you pete?”

honestly, though you were now on a mission to find out what he was hiding, you were also concerned.

“you know you can tell me anything, right?”

his warm eyes shifted down to you and you saw some guilt swimming around in them.

“i know, i’m just… tired.”

he was telling the truth there. you looked at him then, and you saw his under eyes were darker than they used to be. you made a mental note of that and the napkin stick before speaking again.

“is there anything i can do?” you asked, genuinely concerned for the boy.

“no. i’ll be okay though, i have you.”

he was turning to flattery to try to get you to drop the subject, a classic move. you admit it did usually work, and you also admit that it made your heart beat a little faster. unbeknownst to you, peter could hear it, and his face turned a little pink.

“don’t get all romantic on me, parker.”

“don’t worry, i’m not.”

your smiles matched each other and the conversation ended with the ringing of the bell. he was saved by the bell for now, but you’d find out what he was up to.

so far, you have sticky hands, which was so weird, and tired eyes.

during eighth period, instead of paying attention to the lecture your teacher gave on the elements of art, you knew that already anyways, you added on to your plan. first on your little agenda: talk to aunt may. after school, you called your mom to tell her you’d be home late, and walked home with peter to his apartment.

“may! i’m home!” you greeted, to which the older woman smiled, before taking you into her arms.

“i’m off to the skate park, see you both for dinner” peter said, truthfully, before zipping out the door. perfect.

on any other day, you may have asked him to stay, but not today. you needed to talk to may today.

“hey may?” you asked, looking at the older woman.

“yes?” she furrowed her brow, slight frown on her face.

“has peter been acting… odd lately?”

you tilted your head to the side, studying her reaction as she looked to be experiencing a moment of clarity.

“i just thought i was losing it a little… i am getting old”

neither of you could help but laugh at her reply, but she continued answering your question.

“he sneaks out at night and thinks i can’t hear him, and he comes home dirty or a little… beat up sometimes, i just thought he was getting bullied at school, honestly.”

“he doesn’t anymore as much, not after i handed out some threats.” you said, and may shook her head.

“i know it’s not a girl though.” may said.

“how?”

“because all he talks about is- never mind”

she caught herself before she did what peter constantly begged her not to do, which was tell you about how he is ‘totally in love with you’. his words.

“i’m going to find out what he’s up to may. and once i do i’ll let you know.”

“i know you will, sweetheart. by the way, can you help me with dinner?”

it was your favorite part of the week, honestly. usually peter was there, watching you cook dinner with may and looking absolutely enamored, which, i guess you were just very skilled at cutting vegetables. uncle ben used to give may a look when he did, and the two would shake their heads at you both, but now poor may was left to deal with your obliviousness all alone. today, you were making pasta, which was easy enough, and may was baking cookies for after. upon peters quick return from the skate park, you began setting the table, and during such you almost dropped a plate.

almost.

somehow, peter was able to reach out and catch the flying plate before it could meet an unfortunate end.

“my hero!” you exclaimed, as he handed you the plate back.

he winked at you, and you felt your whole body heat up as your heart started running laps in your chest. it stopped though, and your brain took over instead. how did he catch that plate so quickly?

you shelved the thought, promising to return to it on your walk home.

dinner came and went, with nothing revealing or too eventful, and so you knew you should be heading home.

“thanks for having me!” you shouted on your way out the door.

“you know you don’t have to thank me anymore” may said as she walked you out.

“i still will anyways, may. bye parker!”

“sweetest farewells, darling.” he said,

putting on an english accent, and bowing to you as you walked out the door, rolling your eyes.

on your walk home, you realized that maybe you should’ve asked peter to walk you there. it was starting to get dark quick, and you were only five minutes in to your twenty five minute walk home. it really was too bad you couldn’t ride a bike.

you were nearly home, when you saw something blue and red flash by.

weird.

you took it as a sign and started walking so fast you were nearly running home.

you walked into your apartment and saw your dad reading an old newspaper on the couch when it hit you all at once. there on the cover of the daily bugle was none other than spiderman.

it all started to make sense.

“are you okay?” your mom asked, watching you stand frozen by the coat rack.

“yeah, i’ll be back in a second, okay?” you said, putting your coat on the hook.

“just be safe.”

you got to your room and took a second. it was so obvious. the sticky hand on the napkin, how he was able to catch the plate. he was so tired because he patrols at night, when aunt may sees him sneak out and how he comes home beat up. and the blue and red you saw on your walk home. it was peter, watching you as spiderman.

you didn’t know if that last part was kind or weird.

you needed to call him. so you did.

“what’s up” he answered, sounding kinda breathless. you hoped he wasn’t talking to you and swinging around the city.

“i need you to come over.”

“i’m a little busy”

“it’s an emergency, i really need you here. meet me on the roof of my building.”

you said, and technically you weren’t lying.

“alright i’m on my way. be there in five.”

he hung up before you could say anything else. knowing peter, he probably was talking and swinging.

you waited on the roof for his arrival, and ran up to him when you saw him.

you gave him a huge hug, to sell your “emergency” from earlier, and also because he deserved it. he was a hero. and this whole time, he’s been doing this in silence.

he smelled like cinnamon and clean clothes, and he could hear your heart rate accelerate, but barely over the loud thumping of his own.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice so genuine you felt bad for lying to him.

“i found something out.”

you were being cryptic and it was so unfair to him but it was also very funny to you.

“what do you mean?”

he pulled away from your embrace, hands resting on your elbows, studying your face.

he wanted to admire your beauty, but he couldn’t in the gravity of the situation. you decided to just rip off the bandaid.

“i found out that you’re spiderman.”

to say his jaw dropped would be an understatement, but he quickly tried to cover it up.

“where did you get that idea?”

his voice was higher.

“it’s obvious, honestly.”

you were smirking at him, victory tasting so sweet.

“i’m not spiderman. you can’t prove anything.”

“are you sure?”

you were always up for a good challenge, and a really stupid idea came into your head. you were going to jump off the roof.

you were like, 99% sure he was spiderman, and on the off chance he wasn’t, he’d stop you before you could jump by telling the truth.

and so with little thought, you started sprinting toward the edge of the roof, and just as you were about to sail through the air, you were pulled back by a web. he’d pulled you so you were chest to chest, and you looked at the web stuck to your arm.

“holy shit.”

you said, surprised, even though you’d figured it out.

“you really are spiderman.”

he looked down at you, a little nervousness in his big brown eyes and something else you didn’t understand.

“will you just shut up?” he whispered, leaning down and before you could get a word out, he silenced you.

his lips were brought over yours, and you immediately kissed him back. it felt so natural, as he brought his hands to your face, holding you impossibly close. his lips were impossibly soft, and for a second you swore you were dreaming. you just kissed your best friend. and your best friend was spiderman.

you pulled away, and the taste of him was almost as sweet as the taste of victory.

“not bad, bug boy.”

he shushed you, and kissed you again, this time deeper than before. your hands found their way to his hair as your lips molded together, and when you pulled slightly he nearly whimpered.

you pulled away again, and he tried chasing your lips but you took a step back.

“as much as i liked that, we kinda need to talk.”

“about what?” he looked like a puppy, eyes so big and his head tilted to the side, lips a little puffy and almost… pouty.

“peter…” you have a serious look, and he dropped the pout.

“okay fine. i’m spiderman. i have been for like a month or so. and i also am in love with you. i have been for about three years.”

it was incredibly nonchalant, but you could see him take his heart from his sleeve and hold it in front of you. and you, being oh so selfish, snatched it up.

“that’s cool.” you said, unable to form a real thought amidst your joy.

“i love you too.” was the only thing you could come up with, and in exchange for his heart you gave him your own just then.

“i actually-“ you started to talk again, but he interrupted you.

“i thought i told you to be quiet?”

he said, voice sounding a little husky.

“i guess you just need to make me, oh mighty hero.”

you smirked, and he most certainly made you, kissing you until you couldn’t think of anything to say.

[spooderboyandtincan]

Peter and Tony’s collections of mugs:

“Universe’s Best Irondad.” Peter gave it to Tony on father’s day, and he tears up every time he sees it

In turn, Tony bought Peter a mug that says “Universe’s Best Spiderson”

Peter has his designated “hot chocolate mug,” which has a checkered red and gold pattern with Iron Man on the front

He has a mug with all the Avengers on it

Tony has a blue and red mug with Spider-Man on it

Peter has various mugs with science puns on them, like “If the Silver Surfer and Iron Man teamed up they’d be alloys” or “A photon checks into a hotel and is asked if he needs any help with his luggage. He says, ‘No, I'm traveling light.’”

Peter has one with lightning bolts on it and “Thor” written on it in an epic font

He has another one which says “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH” wrapped around the entire thing

Tony has a mug covered with glitter that Peter made for him while on a sugar high (he loves it)

Peter drops everything he holds, so his mugs are 110% unbreakable (made by Tony)

Tony has a mug that says “Don’t talk to me before I’ve had coffee- except for you, Peter”

/do not tag or reblog as st*rker/

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #5

Peter being afraid of needles.

Warnings: blood, needles, inaccurate description of wound-fixing (basically; don't copy how the reader fixes Peter cuz idk what I'm doing)

You pumped your legs harder, faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Your limbs ached with every swift movement and you had a stitch in your side. Your pursuers followed with an energy you had left in the camp.

“This way!” Peter hollered from in front of you. He turned suddenly, your exhausted brain making you nearly ram into a tree. Luckily, Peter had slowed to grab your hand. He dragged you along through a thicker and darker part of the forest. After a minute, he pulled you around behind a tree. He pressed his back into the bark, his arms wrapped over your stomach as he clutched you to his body.

The two of you stood immensely still, huffing and puffing, sweat dripping down your back.

The pirates ran right past you.

The stupid men hurried off into the woods, and when their grumbles were out of earshot, you slackened against Peter. A relieved laugh bubbled up in your chest. Peter’s chest shook behind you. His angelic giggles filled your ears, and soon you were both trembling with mirth.

Not 10 minutes earlier, that codfish Hook had somehow found his way into camp. But it didn’t matter. You and Peter and the Lost Boys were prepared and hungry for a fight. Before you ran off to play tag, half of them were bleeding on the ground. It was grand fun. It still baffled you how they ever thought they could win.

“How many… did you get?” He gasped from behind you. You were still laughing, ignoring your ever-worsening stitch.

“E-Eleven.” You turned to face him, and he was grinning, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was a rare and beautiful sight. But then, he winced, and your laugh caught in your throat.

“You alright?” You took his hand, feeling familiar tingles from his skin on yours. It gave you butterflies, but something was wrong.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll just walk it o—” He cut himself off, collapsing into you. You caught him, you hand touching something warm and wet on his side. He cried out.

“Peter! H-Hang on, we need to get you b-back…” You looked around quickly, trying to remember where you were. You had never been to this part of the forest before. You looked back down at Peter. The side of his shirt was soaked in his blood, and some of it dripped onto the leaves.

You lowered him onto the floor, peeling back his shirt to look at it. A long line of his skin was split open, blood leaking down the sides and staining his paling skin. It wasn’t too wide, but it was deep. You guessed he had been sliced by a sword. It was a clean cut. Easy enough to fix. But that didn’t make it easy to look at. Against your wishes, you started to tear up.

“Oh my gosh…” You whimpered, staring down at the red in shock. “A-Alright. L-Let me see if I h-have anything…” You searched your pockets. Normally, you would bring supplies for something like this. You were basically Neverland’s doctor. But you hadn’t, this time.

“Peter, I-I don’t have anything!” Your hands were shaking. Peter grabbed them.

“(Y/n), it’s okay…” He croaked. He closed his eyes, frowning a little. Suddenly, he was lying on a cot, and you were kneeling beside him in your healing chambers.

“Oh, Peter, thank you.” You scrambled to your feet and ran to the cupboard. Gathering ointments and disinfectant and stitches and bandages while Peter groaned in response. You placed everything on the table beside the bed, gathering some cloth and a bowl of warm water.

“Okay. This is gonna sting, so, on three?” Peter nodded; eyes squeezed shut. You breathed out slowly. “One…” Peter’s breathing sped up a little, and your chest tightened. “Two…” You got some scissors and cut open his shirt so you could get to the wound. “Three.”

You dabbed gently on and around his cut. You swiped away any dirt and washed the cloth in water a few times when it filled with blood and grime. All the while Peter squirmed and grunted and whimpered. It broke your heart to know you were causing him this pain.

"For Neverland's sake, Peter!" You grumbled, washing out the cloth for the third time. "Were you running even... even with this?"

How could the poor boy even move with such a wound, let alone run around in the forest?

Peter shrugged while lying down, which you weren't afraid to admit looked really weird.

"What could I say?" He smirked. "You were having such a good time, after all. It was fun... you don't smile like that often." You shook your head.

"For the record, Pan, you hardly smile at all." He laughed, but his eyes showed his pain. Both physical pain and emotional.

There was one speck of dirt that wouldn’t budge, you using the corner of the cloth to try and move it. Peter squeezing the mattress, you finally got it out.

When you finished cleaning, you rinsed off the cloth again. Your hands were a little red. You gagged at the sight. There was so much of Peter's blood; on your hands, in the bowl, on his shirt, on his skin, on the cot... it worried you. And it had to be fixed up before he lost any more.

“Peter.” He groaned again, opening his eyes to look at you. There were swollen and misty. “I’m going to need to stitch it together.” Peter’s eyes widened. He recoiled into the bed.

This was always the part you and every Lost Boy hated most. You just hoped Peter wouldn’t kill you; on purpose or accidental.

You’d had stitches before, and it sucked. The only difference here was, you were all out of poppy seeds, and Peter wasn’t about to fall asleep any time soon. Besides, he was the lightest sleeper on the whole of Neverland. So, you were going to give him a needle.

He seemed to read your mind, and you saw he was trying to prepare himself. You gathered your things, dabbing disinfectant around the wound. But when you brought out the needle, he was stiff as a board. “You okay?”

“Of course.” He said a little too quickly. You giggled.

“Are you afraid of needles?” He glared at you, trying to look intimidating. You waved the needle in his face. He flinched.

“Aw, Pan, it’s alright. (Y/n) will be gentle with the scary needle.” You teased.

“Just get it over with.” He growled. Your gaze softened.

“Really, Pete. It’ll be alright. Loads of people are afraid of needles.” You tried calming him down, the playful mood dissipating faster than it appeared. Peter scoffed.

“I am not afraid of needles.” You smiled softly. It was cute that the tough and intimidating Peter Pan was afraid of needles, but it was a pretty big needle. You weren’t about to mock his pride. Not again, anyway.

“Wanna hold my hand?” You held out your other hand for him to take. He looked away from you before he (somewhat begrudgingly) grabbed it. You smirked.

“Shut up.”

You positioned the needle over his skin, and he looked over into your eyes. His gaze steering clear of the small but sharp object.

“Ready?”

“No.” He grinned sheepishly, before it was replaced with a look of fear. He gulped, clutching your hand. Just before you pushed the needle through his skin, a vase nearby exploded. You and Peter jumped, a few shards of glass flying across the room. One of them nicked your cheek while another got your arm.

"(Y/n), I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" You shook a little, the needle still in your hand. You looked over to where the vase used to be, little pieces all over the table and ground. Some were even sticking out of the wall behind it.

Lucky for you, th vase was on the other side of the room. So aside from a scratch here and there, you were fine.

You looked back down at Peter. "Uh... yeah! Yeah, let's just finish this."

He didn’t move while you injected him. And to your relief, nothing exploded this time. He watched you with guilt in his eyes.

He fell asleep almost right away, and you went to work sewing him up. When it was done you washed the blood off his and your skin, taking off his shirt completely and putting him in a fresh one. Then, you sat in a chair with a book and waited for him to wake.

When he finally stirred, the first thing he searched for was you.

“(Y/n)?” You heard, and you put the book down.

He was looking around the room for you, eyes blinking slowly and his arms stretching above him. It was adorable.

“I’m here.” You smiled. His head turned slightly to the side, finding you. He smiled lazily.

“Come here.” You sat on the bed beside him, he not even bothering to sit up yet. Which was good, since it would ruin your human needlework. He grabbed you shirt and tried pulling you down. But he was still weak from sleep.

“Oh, stop it, Pan.” You giggled, taking his hands away. He just linked his fingers with yours. “Your still injured, and there isn’t enough room, anyway.”

Peter pouted. “You know you… want to.” He tried, but then yawned slightly. You laughed at his attempt to seduce you. He frowned.

“You’re tired. Get some rest.” You kissed his forehead, standing up to walk away. But his hand was still holding yours.

“I just was resting.” He argued, going to sit up. You quickly grabbed his shoulders.

“Don’t!” He stopped. “You’ll hurt yourself. Pop the stitches I was working on for hours.” He chuckled.

“My hero.” You ignored the sarcasm, forcing him to lie down.

“And as your hero, I am ordering you to go back to sleep.” He rolled his eyes, letting go of your hand and sighing (rather dramatically).

“Only if you stay with me.” You thought about it for a second, biting your lip. You weren’t a sound sleeper. What if you touched his stitches? Or took all the blanket? Or rolled on him? Or pushed him out of bed? Or—

“Just get in, (Y/n)!” He laughed at your thoughts, and you gave up. You climbed under the blankets next to him.

He went to roll on his side to face you, wanting to hold you. But then he winced and stopped himself. Instead, he put his arm under your neck and tucked you into his side. You laughed at the awkwardness of it all.

“Happy, now?” You giggled. He smirked at you.

“More than happy.”

***

“So, All-Powerful Pan… wanna talk about your fear of needles?”

“Shut up.”

You laughed.

[thatclassicrockfan]

🌈The Monkees🌈

[x-lilacgalacticfox-x]

Protective Irondad

Peter & Loki: *cuddling*

Tony: *walks into living room*

Peter & Loki:

Tony:

Tony: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

[isnt-it-just-so-pretty-to-think]

Public Communications

Excerpt:

“All right, I’m adding two things to Peter’s no-no list,’” Tony says, tapping his fingers against the table. “No homemade flamethrowers, and no torching off parts of your body. You’d think at least one of those would go without saying.”

“What if he’s using the homemade flamethrower to melt skittles?” Clint says through a mouthful of pasta. “Because that’s what he was doing when he burnt off his eyebrows.”

“What the hell, Clint?” Peter says. “You said you wouldn’t snitch.”

“Hey, here’s a thought,” Tony says. “Maybe instead of threading your eyebrows with fire, you could use your aunt’s tweezers. You know, the ones you used to dig a bullet out of your abdomen?”

“Excuse me?” May says, slowly lowering her fork. “He used what to do what?”

- Public Communications (Chapter 4 update) posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880160/chapters/65587072