Hiii I would love a cotton candy cone with sprinkles and cherries!! (and maybe some stark!reader) also this is SUCH a cool idea
thank you for your order!! i hope you enjoy!!
order #20: peter parker (TASM), fluff, friends to lovers, drunk
Lightweight
|| ao3 || Peter Parker (TASM) Masterlist || 400 celebration!! || requests are open!! || part 2 ||
summary: Peter gets drunk and confesses his feelings for you (wc: 919)
Peter could not handle his alcohol as well as he had imagined he could.
Being an outsider for most of high school meant Peter didn’t get to go to all the big house parties that his peers did. It wasn’t until he had met you and started going to the parties you invited him to that Peter finally got a taste of what he had only lived vicariously through in the movies he watched. And in all honesty, he wasn’t the biggest fan. But it seemed to make you happy, and Peter was slowly learning he would do just about anything to make you happy. Even if it meant enduring stuffy college parties instead of being at home working on new improvements to his web shooters.
Peter was also learning that he was probably a lightweight. An embarrassing revelation when he was two drinks in and already clinging to your side, afraid to let go as if you would somehow disappear to one of the many villains he’s faced if he did. It was especially embarrassing when, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the two of you weren’t dating. You were just friends who had met in your Bio 1 class, and he had caught feelings way too quickly. And yet, you didn’t seem to mind him being practically glued to your side. And if you weren’t complaining, then well, who was he to pull himself off of you?
“Are you comfortable there?” You asked through a laugh, handing him a glass of water which he happily took, brushing his fingers against yours and letting them linger for probably longer than he should have.
Peter took a few sips from the glass before nodding his head a few times, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m really comfortable,” he told you, words slightly slurring together as you let out another soft laugh, one that made his stomach feel a little weird. Or maybe that feeling was due to the beer. In all honesty, he couldn’t really tell. “And I’m having a lot of fun,” he said before taking another sip from his glass.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll feel the same tomorrow morning,” you tease with a small shrug of your shoulders. You wouldn’t be surprised if Peter didn’t leave his dorm at all tomorrow morning, too busy nursing his growing hangover that you inadvertently caused.
Peter shook his head no at your words, looking at you with all the seriousness he could muster now in his drunken state before telling you softly, “Well I got to be with you, so of course I’m having fun.”
His words, the way he was looking at you, the fact that he had been stuck to your side all night, it was all doing something silly to your already racing heart. But you decided to ignore it for tonight, if only to help keep Peter on his very uncoordinated, very drunken feet.
“I had fun with you too, Pete,” you say through a small laugh, “but we should probably get you back to your dorm soon so you can start catching up on sleep, yeah?”
He mumbles something unintelligible that sounds close to a complaint or some other noise of disapproval, but followsyou anyway, because of course, Peter can’t stand to be very far away from you tonight.
The walk to the dorm hall was a quiet, chilly one, with Peter’s jacket draped over your shoulders due to his insistence and your hand held tightly in his, not that you minded. It was nice. He was nice.
“Thanks for inviting me to the party,” Peter says, looking at you with a happy, dopey smile as his words continue to slur together.
You laugh despite yourself, but nod along to his words with a smile of your own. “Course, Peter, anytime. Just hopefully next time you won’t have to wake up the next morning with a massive hangover.”
Peter nods his head in agreement, but you don’t think he truly understands just how much pain he’ll be in come tomorrow morning.
“You’re really pretty,” Peter mumbles, his hand holding onto yours just a little tighter as a shy smile slowly grows on his face. “I like spending time with you, I like you.” Peter says as the two of you make your way towards the dorm hall, almost making you stop dead in your tracks. Almost, if it weren’t for him gently pulling you into the building.
“How drunk are you right now?” You ask through a laugh.
“I could run a marathon,” is all he replies as the two of you enter the elevator to his floor.
You can’t help but laugh again, a teasing smile on your face as you lead him to his dorm so he can go to bed. “I’m sure,” you murmur, as he fumbles through his keys to unlock the door. “We should talk about this tomorrow when you’re more sober,” you murmur.
Peter only scoffs, as if the idea was ridiculous. “I’m very sober,” he murmurs, words slurring together in a very un-sober manner.
“Then when it’s not nearing 2 am,” you mumble with a soft, sweet smile that is almost enough to make Peter’s knees go weak right then and there. “Goodnight, Peter,” you say with a small laugh.
“Tomorrow,” he mumbles, looking at you as seriously as he can right now, before wishing you a goodnight as well.
Tomorrow was going to be a very interesting day for Peter Parker.
Summary: Peter Parker x scientist!Reader -> You don't find making friends easy, but when Peter starts to talk to you, you wonder is you wouldn't mind more than a working relationship.
Disclaimer: Hurt/comfort, little angst, fluff between reader and Peter, mentions of grazes and small wounds, egotistical scientists (other co-workers), reader had a golden retriever called Lyra, Peter takes care of reader when they're sick, slow burn, friends to lovers.
Making friends wasn’t something that came easy to you. Or maybe it did. Maybe it was the act of keeping them that was difficult.
You’d first noticed it when you were a teenager. Everything was fine and normal – sure, you had the internal struggle of worry, thinking you were being judged for every movement you made but everyone felt like that at that age.
But, as you began to get older, you noticed the change.
The cliques formed, you said ‘no’ to a lot of things, or you were too busy with school or hiding behind the fear of saying yes and hating every moment. Eventually, people went their separate ways.
Then came high school where you found out there wasn’t really a ‘nice’ clique. The ‘geeks’ judged the ‘nerds’, the ‘populars’ judged everyone who judged them, there was secretly a ‘mean’ and ‘nicer’ group of every clique you came across. You did make a few memories with some, had plenty of conversation but eventually you became…something that didn’t fit.
But that was okay.
Then came college where working lives, studying life and social life became something that needed to be packed with long lasting memories that you could keep in a box and look at through photos and stories.
Instead, you studied, you binged a lot of TV and movies during your down-time, you discovered the hardest task of being an adult was figuring out what to eat for every meal for the rest of your life, and you tried to wrap your head around the world you’d been thrown into.
Time passed. People came and went. Stories were shared, but you could almost track it; the moment they realised you were too much. Too weird, too loud, too quiet, too stubborn, too stand-off-ish, too…much.
Eventually, and not in an act of theatrics but rather in the slow, quiet kind of way, you stopped trying.
You stopped trying to make friends, you stopped trying to see a conversation for more than what it was, you stopped trying to push yourself into people’s lives; it was a lot easier to push yourself out of their lives, than it was in.
And, although it would seem lonely on paper, you made it work.
You had your family; sure, you couldn’t tell them everything and sure, they couldn’t really keep a secret to themselves, but you had them. You had the characters that lived in the stories you read which, maybe was a little sadder in reality but, they didn’t judge you for being yourself.
And, you had your dog.
“Hey, baby,” you smiled brightly as you laid your coat on the hook beside the door and threw your keys onto the hallway table. Your dog, Lyra, was a fluffy golden retriever who spent most of her time sleeping on her back, surrounded by the comfort of your plethora of throws and blankets.
Lyra sat at your feet, laying her head on your knees before jumping up and trying to lick your face. You laughed, happy to be home, finally.
By the time morning rolled around and you’d leave for work, she’d hop back onto the sofa and roll onto her back the minute you’d put your coat on.
“Badge!”
Despite working at Stark Industries for almost six years, Happy still managed to scare you most mornings. You held it up from the scanner to the window. He just nodded and motioned for you to carry on.
After the morning meeting had concluded, you got straight to work. The recent projects had been focusing on software updates for the last two generation products.
“Y/n, could you take a look at this for me?”
Peter appeared at the side of your desk, holding a grey tablet out to you. “Sure, what is it?”
“An old project of mine. Think it could work?”
You looked at Peter for a second, a little confused, before you looked over the work. “Uh, yea, sure. You’d probably need to change out the cell battery for something a little longer lasting- I think a couple people on the ninth floor have been successful in a couple things. Why are you asking me?”
Peter shrugged. “I needed a second opinion and you’re meant to be one of the best.”
“I…Why not ask further up?”
Peter smiled a little as he laughed and took back the tablet you handed him. “Because the only difference between this floor and them is the amount of ego in the room.”
That made you laugh. Then he panicked. “Don’t tell HR.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. And I think they’d be on your side.”
Peter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Hey, uhh, I heard there’s gonna be a party after work on Friday?”
“There is?”
Peter chuckled a little. “Yeah, it’s been sought after for the last couple of months, I think. Will I see you there?”
Call it trauma, call it common sense, but you felt every past memory flash across your mind.
Not being told. Being brought along by a friend. Finding out it wasn’t your scene. Finding out you were specifically wasn’t invited. The plus-one was just to help someone else feel less nervous.
The pity invite. The fake invite. The actual invite that was cancelled because there was a better party someplace else.
The atmosphere when you were around people that weren’t actually your friends. The atmosphere when you thought you were.
“Oh, uh,” you sat back in your chair. “No, probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Just…” In previous times, saying ‘it wasn’t your scene’ didn’t stop people from judging or asking more questions. Questions you didn’t want to spend half an hour defending with answers that shouldn’t have to be said outloud. “Busy, that’s all.”
“Hot date?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Just busy. You have fun, though!”
Peter nodded. “Well, thanks for helping. See you round?”
You nodded. “See you round.”
Usually, that meant never. Or maybe once or twice a year max.
But, in whatever moment of fate, it wasn’t. You saw Peter three more times that week. And when you tried to clock out early on Friday as others set up for the party which nobody had mentioned to you, other than Peter, he caught you in the elevator.
“Do you have some time?”
“For what?”
“There’s something I’d like your opinion on.”
That was how you found yourself with an access badge pass to the fourteenth floor of the building, following Peter into his private lab.
Inside, it was messier than you’d expected, but even you could find what you needed if you had to.
“I was making modifications to Sam’s wings. Shuri sent me over the prints of her work and she trusted me with it, which is just…huge. But, it got me thinking about a couple of different things. Modifications, creations. And…”
Suddenly, Peter went off on a long ramble about different items that could be used for the team, arrow adjustments for Kate, weight distribution on shields and wings – just about everything.
And, instead of being surprised by the amount of words he could say within sixty seconds, or the kind of cases he was talking about; the thing you were most shocked by was the fact that Peter trusted you enough to…ramble without breathing.
To give you so much information within a few minutes without seemingly feeling self conscious.
“And I’ve seen a lot of your work,” Peter told you. “So, I’m hoping you’ll say yes when I ask you to help.”
“You…” You raised an eyebrow. “You want me to…help?”
“Co-engineers. Collaborate on different technologies and creations.”
Peter told you a little more and, for the first time, you didn’t feel the fear of being around someone for all the working hours of the day. You could disappear into the quiet corners when you were in a room of forty or more.
In a room of two, it was harder to hide.
But it was work.
It wasn’t friendship.
It was a working relationship where conversations would find a difficult time searching for topics outside of work.
So, you said yes.
And for the next six weeks, you got used to having more working space, your own lab which connected to Peter’s via two glass sliding doors which could be shaded out if needed – but Peter rarely ever did.
Mostly it was when he needed to test the lighting of a suit and needed a pitch black room in order to do so.
The first thing Peter noticed about you, aside from your work ethic and strategic abilities was the fact you didn’t talk all that much. You’d smile and laugh and reply to things he said, but you didn’t talk much about anything other than the task at hand.
Once or twice you made an off-handed comment about the traffic on the roads when you’d accidentally come running in late – only by two minutes – which let him know you drove to work and didn’t take the tube.
But, other than that? He could read your file - his pass gave him access to it. But that felt wrong.
And he couldn’t have been more thankful than when he accidentally ran into you outside the dog park and lake.
“Peter?”
“Y/n?” Then he spotted your dog. “You have a dog.”
You smiled. “Yeah, this is Lyra. Lyra, this is Peter.”
Crouching down, Peter was handed a paw by Lyra before you told him he could pet her, though she’d probably just try and lick him to death.
“Oh my god, you are so adorable. I didn’t know you had a dog,” Peter said. “How old is she?”
“Four,” you told him as she sat down. “An old neighbour of mine had six pups to sell and Lyra was one of them. Pretty sure she chose me, though.”
Peter smiled, turning his head a little and laughing as Lyra wagged her tail and continued to lick his cheek. “Lyra.”
“She’s okay,” he told you. “Thank you, Lyra.”
“What are you doing here?” You eventually asked him.
“I was just about to grab a coffee from the cart across the park. They sell the best I’ve ever had.” Peter told you before he nodded across to it. “Actually, would you like to join me? That’s if you're not too busy?”
“Uhh,” you looked at Lyra. “No. That-that would be great, actually.”
Peter beamed. “Great. I, uh, I guess I’ll lead the way. So, you have a dog.”
You smiled. “I have a dog.”
“Anything else I should know about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know anything about you.”
“You haven’t read my file?” You questioned.
“N…no?”
“You have access to it,” you pointed out.
“How do you know-”
“Happy tested me for the first twelve months of my job. Level twenty five badge gives you clearance to view employee files.”
“I…didn’t know you knew that. But, I haven’t. It felt wrong.”
“Well,” you shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
You’d found, over the years, that telling people what they wanted to know was an easier and much more simple way of avoiding the answers you had to defend, as well as avoiding the topics that made people turn away from you thinking you were too intense, too loud and too much.
“Okay, uhh,” Peter thought about it for a moment. “Ah, okay, easy one. What’s your coffee order?”
You told him – or rather, you told the barista. To which Peter also told them his before he paid.
“Peter, you really didn’t-”
He shrugged with a smile as he placed his wallet back inside his pocket. “My treat, honestly.”
“Well…thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, what is your favourite colour?”
You chuckled, “Ooh, too far.”
Peter laughed subtly at getting your reference before he asked; “Seriously though?”
You told him and why he asked why, you told him why. It wasn’t anything profound. It was just a colour that made you feel happy. You asked him in return.
“If I’m gonna be interrogated over colours, I want to know yours, too.”
He nodded. “Seems fair.”
He told you his and before you knew it, you’d both slipped into less interrogative questions to a natural conversation that, for once, wasn’t about work.
It was nice, having a friendlier working relationship. You and Peter talked more whilst you worked. You found out about his life with his Aunt and how he came to work with the Avengers. He found out about how you’d accidentally discovered that your work in college had found its way across a lab tech’s desk at Stark Industries.
“You’re a much better replacement,” Peter said. “Jack was an asshole.”
You chuckled a little. “Thanks.”
The first morning you brought in coffee as a surprise for Peter, you’d been nervous as hell. A billion questions swirled around your head.
What if he doesn’t like coffee? No, he ordered one. And he’s drunk the shitty stuff from the ninth floor. What if his coffee order has changed? What if it’s wrong? What if, what if, what if?
“I, uh, I got you a coffee.”
“You did?” Peter, through the tired eyes, smiled. “Thank you.”
For a moment, your eyes scanned Peter’s face. Without thinking, you reached out and turned his chin lightly til he was looking at you.
“Your eye,” you pointed out.
It was subtle, but there was a deeper semi circle just under it, blending into his cheek bone.
“Oh,” Peter’s face flushed as he turned away. “It’s nothing.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing, just…ran into a wall.”
You stared at him. “Just ran into a wall?”
“Yep.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
For a moment, Peter thought you were seriously mad at him. You walked away in silence, dropped your bags and your coffee by your desk across the room and then you disappeared for at least two minutes.
“Y/n?”
Suddenly, you came back inside holding an ice pack. “Here.”
“How many people know?” You asked Peter as he sat down with a small ‘thank you’ and held the ice pack against his cheek.
“Know what?”
“That you’re Spider-Man?”
Peter internally panicked. “What?”
From his desk, you reached for the same newspaper you’d brought from the coffee shop. The headline read Spider-Man Saves Star-Boxer From Mugging: But gets punished for it
“They ran the story before print, this morning. And Happy seemed annoyed you didn’t have your badge. I put two and two together.”
“From a…black eye and a missing badge?”
You shrugged. “And a few other things.”
You nodded over to the webbed cabinet at the back of the room. Vials for web-fluid that would deplete and regrow, without a single Avenger or person you didn’t already recognise coming to collect them.
“But,” you added. “You don’t have to worry. The secret's safe with me.”
Peter’s smile was suppressed when he got an ache in his cheek. “Thanks.”
“I don’t know how your healing abilities work, but I can see if I can make something to help with the grazes.”
Peter looked at his forearms and his hands. Cuts and bruises healed, but even he suffered with dry skin which only slowed the healing process of smaller injuries.
“With my senses, my skin’s sensitive to a lot of stuff.”
You nodded. “I can work with that.”
It took you less than thirty minutes to make a small concoction of balm. Rolling up a stool to sit beside him, you carefully applied it to the couple of grazes he had across his skin.
“Stinging?”
He shook his head. “No. Thank you.”
You shrugged a little, twisting the lid onto the pot. “Don’t worry about it. Here, apply it when you feel like you need it.”
Peter took it as you laid it in his palm and, for a brief moment, he held your gaze on his own. “Thank you.”
Feeling awkward, you cleared your throat a little and rolled your stool back. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. If you ever need some more, I can make you some.”
Peter watched as you walked away, a little flustered but trying to act as normal as possible.
By the time Peter caught a look of himself in the bathroom mirror a few hours later, his skin wasn’t just healed but it also looked as if he’d never been attacked by the harsh chemicals of the cleaning solution he’d used before he came to the lab.
Your balm worked miracles.
And more than once.
As the weeks progressed, Peter kept his eye on you. He’d learned a few more things about you; the fact you hummed songs when you were busy but trying to keep yourself calm, that you always pushed your lunch hour to make the day seem less long, and then, in one rather saddening and angered moment, he found out why you were always ‘busy’ when things came up outside of work.
It had been a long week of running tests and pulling tiny machines apart. So, when a group of the scientists from your previous floor walked past, chatting and laughing before knocking on the lab door, Peter was pleased to hear a party was going to be held a week later.
“What do you say, Y/n?” Peter asked, turning to see you at your desk on the other side of the lab. “We could make an evening of it?”
You smiled for a moment, but before an answer could leave you, you heard one of the scientists quietly call Peter’s name.
“There’s not a lot of room and the list is kinda selective, you know, so we can only let so many people know and-”
You saw Peter’s shoulders tense as he folded his arms across his chest. But that wasn’t the thing you focused on.
You’d seen their faces the moment Peter had turned to you. You’d been through the whole scenario most of your life; if they didn’t look directly at you and ask you, you weren’t invited.
“I thought you said-”
One of the other scientists cut in. “I guess we could extend the invite and-”
Walking over, laying one of the Shield tech-pads on Peter’s desk for him to take a look at, you smiled in their direction. “It’s alright-”
“No, it’s not.” Peter cut in.
But you spoke anyway. “Yes, it is. I’m busy next Friday anyway.”
“Doing what?” Peter turned to you and asked.
He’d noticed something over the last few months and he was just a few moments from having his theory confirmed.
“Lyra’s got an appointment at the vet’s for her three month check up,” you said, effortlessly. “Couldn’t find another time.”
The rest of the scientists smiled in relief, making their way out.
“Guess we’ll see you there, Pete? Bye!”
As the room fell quiet, you headed back over to your desk.
“Why do you do that?” Peter asked.
“Do what?”
Peter turned, watching your every movement closely. “Lyra had her three month check up two weeks ago. I know that because Kate told me she saw you leaving the office when she was waiting to get Lucky checked.”
Oh, shit.
“Why did you lie?”
With a deep breath, you spoke with a calm acceptance. “Because it’s just easier. This isn’t my first rodeo, Peter. I know where I’m not wanted. And, I also know when it’s just a pity invite. I’m not gonna force people to be friends with me.”
Peter watched as you chuckled. You found your own story too funny for his liking.
“Jesus,” you chuckled. “I live with myself 24/7. Nobody needs all of that.”
Peter was stunned to his core.
“Who told you that?”
You looked at him. “Nobody had to tell me, Peter. I just…knew. Well, a few people told me when I was younger. But the older you get, the less people say it, but they do still show it. But you don’t have to worry! I’m used to it. Seriously.”
Peter didn’t know what to do first; sit down from the shock, hug you or call Kate and Yelena to hunt down whoever had convinced you that you weren’t wanted.
“But-”
“Peter, please,” you said. “Please do not worry about me, or feel bad for me or anything like that. I like my life and, in all honesty, there’s a lot less drama that I have to deal with now.”
Peter, in his shocked state, had walked closer to you and taken a seat by your desk. “Drama?”
You looked at him, torn between two paths. One meant you changed the subject and accepted he, deep down, didn’t want to know, or at least, would listen to your story and realise he didn’t want to know. The second was to tell him and rip the band-aid off, and let him decide whether he actually wanted to know.
A third diverged before you spoke; maybe he was genuinely curious…and even if it turned out he didn’t want to know, it gave him something to gossip about with his friends.
Taking a short breath, you found yourself telling him the truth before you could make a definite decision.
“I’ve not had a lot of friends in my life,” you told him. “Some of it is from a lack of trying, but some of it isn’t. And the few times I’ve had people I could call genuine friends…it turned sour pretty quickly. I’m either too much for people, or not enough. Usually, it’s the former.”
Peter just sat and listened. And, despite the growing pain in your chest as you continued to speak – the same pain that usually told you to stop talking before you crossed the line and ruined everything – you kept talking.
“But it’s okay,” you cut in. “After the first couple times, I learned my lesson pretty quickly. And, even though they’re not my friends anymore, I still appreciate the friendship. After all, they helped teach me the difference between the kind of invites people get and what they actually mean, you know.”
Peter’s brows furrowed. His senses were tingling that you were nervous, but on the outside you didn’t seem it. But, he wanted answers.
“And what do they mean?”
You shrugged a little, thinking about them all and where to start. “Well, there’s…there’s the pity invite. That’s the invite you get when they forget you’ve been in the room or standing next to the person that is actually invited. There’s the invite that’s handed to you because someone else needs help or support. Most of the time, you get forgotten about or have to leave early because your friend has worked up enough courage.”
You thought for a moment before giving a few more examples; the non-invite invite, the spoken about but never acted on, the general invite that is secretly specific, the cancelled invite…
“And people have done this to you?”
You shifted on your feet a little. “Yeah, but, it’s not completely their fault. Like I said, I live with myself 24/7. I can get pretty annoying after a short while.”
Peter’s brows furrowed as he leaned back in shock. “I don’t find you annoying.”
“Because you don’t know much about me. Guaranteed if you did, you’d be secretly pushing me off to another engineer and within six months I’d be at the plywood desk in the corner of the sixth floor.”
Peter was stunned into silence.
You chuckled a little, again. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”
Without another thought, Peter stood and hugged you which shocked you a little.
“W…What is this for? Are you okay?” You asked Peter, carefully wrapping your arms around him.
“Am I-” Peter took a small breath. “I’m okay. But I’m sorry that people have treated you like that.” Peter felt you shrug under him. “I swear to Thor, if you tell me ‘it’s alright’ or that you’re used to it, I’m gonna have Yelena hunt these people down.”
“Okay,” you said, a little quietly.
Peter hugged you a little tighter and, despite his senses telling him you were trying to fight your own feelings, you leaned into the hug a little.
It was brief, but he felt you pull back. Unknown to him, on the rare occasion you leaned into a hug to accept it, people tended to move away.
But, feeling him hold on, you accepted the hug.
“I’m sorry people made you feel like that.”
You didn’t know why, but your voice shook as you spoke. “Uhh, th-thanks.”
By the time you and Peter decided to go home, you didn’t know how to fully feel. It was the first time you really wondered if you felt okay without having someone who truly cared in your life.
You tried to act normal for the next few days, thankful to have Friday night to think things over.
But that was short lived.
Lyra barked as someone knocked on your apartment door, jumping from her spot on the sofa.
“Alright, alright. Back up,” you told her as you got in front of your door and looked through the peep-hole.
“What are you doing here?” You asked Peter as you opened the door.
With a tired-ish smile, he held up the paper bag of take-out. “I’ve got twenty bucks worth of take-out and an entire weekend free. You’re probably sick of seeing my face and if you are you can just say, but if-”
Lyra behind you barked loudly and wagged her tail. So, with a smile at Peter, you held your door open a little more. “Come on in.”
What you thought was going to be a one-time thing, suddenly turned into a Friday night tradition and, slowly, Peter learned more about you as you felt comfortable enough to lower your walls and let him in.
“You ever seen something like this before?” Kate asked Clint as they both stood outside Peter’s lab.
Inside, for the last hour, Kate had been transfixed by how you and Peter worked together. Barely a word had to be said, but you both knew what the other was planning to do.
Clint had nearly crashed into her in the hall, since she was just standing there, staring at the glass wall of the lab.
Clint paused for a moment, lowering his clipboard as he watched you and Peter, along with Kate.
Clint smiled. “Once.”
“Who?”
“Fitz and Simmons,” Clint told her. “They’re married now.”
Kate nodded. “I think that’s what’s gonna happen here.”
Clint watched you and Peter for a few more moments. The casual touches to waists to move the other out of the way for a moment, the dips under arms, the steady hands and considerate movements around one another.
The brief looks when the other wasn’t looking, the positioning of items that the other would need before they know it, the easy access to each other's work, the smiles and memories being made in front of their very eyes.
Clint nodded in agreement. “Yep.”
Kate was shocked, looking at Clint. “You agree with me? You just agreed with me? Oh, my god.” She followed him down the hallway. “You agreed with me! Yes!”
Meanwhile, inside the lab, you and Peter started talking about the movie plans for Friday night, very quickly finding yourselves in a debate over the best Back to the Future movie and whether or not m&ms in popcorn at the cinema is a good idea.
Eventually, time moved on and park walks in the morning became a common occurrence between yourself and Peter with Lyra. Having Peter’s usual lunch order logged inside your brain, like your drink order was in his, became natural.
Then, one evening after you’d called in sick at work, you’d opened the door to Peter, who had his Aunt May’s chicken and dumpling recipe in a washed take-out tub in his hands.
Through tired eyes, your brain registered Peter was at your front door, but you were pretty sure you were still half-asleep. It wasn’t until his hand touched your head that you realised he was real.
“What are you doing here?”
“Happy told me you’d called the front desk rather than HR. And when you didn’t text me, I figured you were probably worse than you’d told Happy.”
“That was Happy?” You asked, vaguely remembering talking to someone.
Peter nodded, helping you through your apartment. “Yeah. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
You turned around. “Why are you here? I’m gonna get you sick.”
“Good thing that I have a great immune system. Perks of being bitten by a radioactive spider.”
You sighed. “So cool.”
“Come on.”
Peter got you back into bed, covering you up. “Stay there, I’ll go and take Lyra on a walk. Try and get some rest.”
You nodded, but you must have fallen straight to sleep because next thing you knew, you were opening your eyes to a fluffy golden ball hitting their tail against your bed as Peter carefully laid a tray on your bedside table.
“Hey,” you said, groggily. “When did you get here?”
You recognised Peter’s smile. “A couple hours ago. I took Lyra for a walk, remember?”
You nodded. “Right.”
“You were fast asleep when we got back so I made a quick call to the pharmacy. Do you never get sick or something? You had, like, zero medicine.”
You nodded. “I’m not usually around a lot of people and I clean…”
You wanted to fall back to sleep, but Peter gently shook you awake. “Hey, come on, medicine first.”
Holding the glass of water with you, you took a drink of water to wash away the terrible taste of medication. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”
Peter looked at you. “It’s what friends do.”
“Still doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But your track record of ‘friends’ isn't what I’d call friends. And you are my friend. And I care for you. So, I’m here to take care of you.”
Unable to say anything, and in your groggy state, you wanted to cry. But, keeping your emotions down, you reached out for him and hugged him.
“Thank you.”
Peter smiled a little, “You don’t have to thank me. Just try and get some rest. I don’t think I live up to Lyra’s usual walking buddy.”
You chuckled a little as you laid down, patting the side of the bed letting Lyra jump up and lay beside you.
“She loves you really.”
Peter smiled, his eyes casting over both Lyra and your tired state. “I love her, too.”
Peter reached out, eventually, and pressed a kiss to your head for a moment. Though, you couldn’t be too sure. You were on the edge of consciousness and maybe already half-dreaming.
“Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
It took you three days to get over the flu. And Peter stayed with you the entire time.
At least, you thought he did.
He was there when you woke up and just before you went to sleep. You’d recognised a few different smells that drafted through your home, so somebody had been cooking.
And when you finally found enough strength to have a shower and walk out of your bedroom, you found him and Lyra lying together on the sofa.
“I think she’s found her new favourite human,” you smiled.
Peter opened his eyes to see you standing, still tired looking but rested, as you gently squeezed a towel around your wet hair. “What? Oh. Well, I may have bought her love with cereal. Did you know she prefers them over treats?”
You chuckled. “I did. It’s a new thing she’s been doing.”
“I blame Kate,” Peter said as he stood up. “I don’t think Lucky’s seen normal dog food since she adopted him.”
You chuckled, again. “One afternoon with Kate and my dog comes back with a cereal addiction. I feel like I should be more worried.”
Peter smiled before finally reaching you and changing the subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks. Did you…did you stay here the whole time?”
Peter nodded. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
For a brief moment, your gaze locked onto his and rather than shuffling away awkwardly, you smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’ve, uh, I made some soup and a couple other things. Mrs Barton swears by this chicken and jalapeno soup…thing. I think I got the recipe right, so hopefully it isn’t too hot. And, uh, I made some dumplings. They’re from a box, though- did you know how sticky bread actually is to make? I should try using it as webfluid-” Peter chuckled, rambling.
But you just smiled a little more before suddenly wrapping your arms around him.
“What’s this for?” Peter asked, hugging you back without question.
“This is for…” You thought about it for a moment. “For staying with me. And for being you. And…just because. And also because I can’t remember if I hugged you two days ago or if I dreamt about it.”
Peter chuckled, still holding you. “You did hug me, but this is nice.”
You smiled, hugging him a little tighter.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said.
“Me, too.”
Then, from the sofa, Lyra jumped up, putting both of her paws onto yours and Peter’s shoulders.
A few weeks later, however, things started to change.
Touches and looks became more noticeable, and so did the tension in the room. There was a bubble forming around yourself and Peter when you were in a room together and others were beginning to notice.
And, though it wasn’t affecting your work, it was affecting your working relationship whether or not you and Peter wanted to admit it.
The brief pauses when you got caught in each other's path stalled both of you. Neither of you knew which way to step or move. The subtle and unnoticed touches burned your skin, but you knew if he held on longer, it wouldn’t brand you but warm you.
Then came the afternoon that changed it all.
Peter had been on a field mission for two days and he’d been forced to go radio silent. He’d been on a couple before and your time in the lab was spent counting down the minutes until you could talk to him again.
But something about this mission felt different. There was at least a small amount of communication between, if not you and Peter directly, a middle agent.
But there had been nothing.
Until you came off your lunch break and found him sitting at his desk, looking worn but safe.
“Oh, my god.”
Dropping your coffee cup by one of the desks, you raced over to him, stopping short of hugging him in order to take in his injuries.
A black eye that was slowly healing, a couple more bruises and cuts along his body and grazes against his knuckles.
“Jesus, what happened? I’ll grab the-” As you were moving towards the cupboard behind him to reach for the healing balm you’d made, Peter pulled you back towards him and kissed you.
He kissed you like he’d been waiting half a lifetime to find you. The way he held you let you know he wasn’t prepared to let you go, either.
“Not that that…” You tried to steady yourself by holding onto him as the kiss stopped. “But what was that…”
“There’s a lot to explain but the…” Peter swallowed, thickly, holding onto you and pressing his forehead to yours as his eyes closed. “The first thing is that I have feelings for you. More than a friend should feel. I’ve been trying to shove them down but over the last two months and this mission…I don’t want to lock them away. And I think- well, I’m hoping I’m not deluding myself in saying this but I think you-”
Holding onto his face, tenderly, you pulled him in and kissed him again. “Yes, I feel the same.”
Peter smiled through relief. “Thank god.” Then he kissed you again.
And again.
And again.
Until you, reluctantly, stopped him. “Before all that, though, you’ve gotta tell me what happened. Peter, you’ve got injuries all over you.”
Sitting down, still holding onto you, Peter sighed. “It was rough.”
As he kept his hands on your waist and hips, letting him know where he was, you reached for some healing balm and gently applied it as he talked you through everything.
That evening, after talking everything over, you had Peter remove his t-shirt so you could take a closer look at his wounds.
“They’re healing,” he told you, calmly, holding your hands against his bare skin and leaning his head against yours.
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
Peter’s hand held the side of your head and tilted your chin up a little, and kissed you.
By the time Peter went on another mission, not only did he come home safe – safer than he did when he first kissed you – but he also came back with another verbal surprise.
“I love you,” he told you.
You’d both been teetering on saying it for two weeks before Peter left for his mission with Yelena. But the minute he came through the front door, he kissed you and told you over and over again.
“I love you, I love you, I am in love with you, I love you.”
You laughed a little as you kissed him back over and over again.
How the Spider-Men react to being given a plush of themselves (Spider-Men x Fem!Reader)
Headcanons
CHARACTERS: MIGUEL O’HARA, HOBIE BROWN, & PETER B PARKER (ft.mayday parker)
SFW, fluff, crack treated seriously, pre-canon, some canon divergence
Pic source: Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse
MIGUEL O’HARA | SPIDER-MAN 2099
Miguel is, quite thoroughly, not impressed when you present the little chibi-esq recreation of his spider suit: cape, little claws and all, to him. A few years ago he would’ve laughed, teased you about your obsession with him and poked at you as he worked in the lab about how you stumbled across the plush anyway. Now, though?
Now Miguel's biggest reaction is how he squints at you in utter silence for a slew of seconds before heaving a sigh that has all of your enthusiasm seeping out of you with that one exhale. Mostly he just grumbles about how he can’t believe you’re distracting him from his monitoring for this and how much such a close approximation of his suit could be a breach of security with an even more severe furrow to his brows than usual.
It’s stress; anxiety too, you’d bet. It looks like anger. Despite the fact you know what it is you still feel yourself getting irritated in turn.
You’re gearing up to throw it in his face and stomp off when the platform finally stops as near to floor level as it gets and he…holds out his hand. Miguel’s expression is still pinched, and the set of his shoulders still high, but he takes the plush from you (mindful of his talons), hums and makes a remark about it not being as accurate as he thought considering there’s claws on the toy instead of what he actually has. Miguel meets your gaze when he says thank you.
For a moment all you do is blink over at him as he starts back up muttering to himself over whatever data he’s reviewing. It isn’t until he turns back to cut you a look that you remember yourself and fall back to earth, smiling big big up at him and then finally rushing away while heat flushes your face and you struggle to bite down on the urge to cheer while still in front of your hotheaded boss.
A few hours later you stop by his floating overcompensation platform office to deliver some information from Jess and you catch sight of the little plush leant up against the corner of one of his monitors. You keep your smugness to yourself, though, not heckling Miggy lest he get too embarrassed and hide the plush away.
Lyla blitzes excitedly around the plush when she first catches sight of it. And, unlike you, she teases Miguel about it so bad the vein at his temple starts to show. You’re eating lunch at one point in the dining hall when she appears sitting criss-cross over your tray and yaps all about how she’s caught Miguel holding the plush. How he rubs the pad of his thumb carefully over the red stitched detailing of its itty bitty mask, his face stern with focus.
Apparently Spider-Plush (the spider society member, not the inanimate object) is very disquieted and a little insulted by the appearance of the toy. His voiceless horror and displeasure was decipherable enough that Miguel started blushing as he stammered out a choppy explanation, and then an apology, all while trying to find some place to hide his mini-me before just settling on holding the stuffing filled version of him behind his back, fangs glinting as he smiled fleetingly at Spider-Plush before starting to save face.
At some point while you're griping about some universe he wants you to check out you watch him turn to the plush leant back against his monitor and go: “Right, Miguelito? You agree, don’t you?” after he feels he’s got you beat— and in a way he does because for the rest of the day you can’t catch nary a glimpse of him without breaking out into laughter so hard it has you turning in circles and coughing.
The smirk he gives your dark, flushed face every time starts making sense by the end of the day once you realize he still got you to agree with him. Even if it was by omission.
HOBIE BROWN | SPIDER-PUNK
Hobie thinks it’s adorable and immediately starts cooing over the plush when you brandish it to him.
He starts cooing over you too but that’s to be expected. You’re his partner, of course he makes a production out of telling you thanks; sweeping you off your feet into a hug and “obnoxiously” peppering kisses all over the brown planes of your face until you're laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
After his initial reaction he does get concerned about the origins of the plush, though. He’s not letting Norman’s estate or any other billionaire twat pull that Spider-Man copyright shit on him (ala that time where Peter found out Otto had trademarked the Spider-Man moniker and that the Spider-Man name and likeness was copyrighted). When you tell him it’s homemade and that you got it from a vendor at a showcase he makes a promise to visit the artist so he can give his thanks personally, grin turning mischievous.
Hobie takes to carrying the little plush around in a web sling. He treats it like his baby, dropping Lil’ Spidey off for you to “babysit” and everything.
Hobes walks in on you oiling your scalp and doing up your kinky hair or re-twisting your locs after a successful wash day — all while singing and dancing for your audience of one: that being the chibi “Itsy Bitsy” plush of him that you’ve leant up against the mirror in front of you — and is instantly so taken by you that he doesn’t even leave the ceiling before pulling his mask up past his nose and urging you into an upside down kiss, no matter that he startles the fuck out of you at first.
He likes making the plush give you little pecks on the cheek from him too, especially when he’s Spider-Man and you two are too easy to view from the rooftops or distance by the civilian them for him to be as affectionate as he’d like.
There’s multiple occasions where you meet him up on a roof to grab a bite together or find him curled up on your ceiling or under your covers while he sews Itsy Bitsy back together and/or replaces his stuffing.
He gets incredibly incensed when goons target his plush lookalike cause there ain’t no need for all that, Boss Man.
It’s not just Hobie liking the plush and loving that it’s a gift from you either, Lil’ Spidey is also incredibly useful when he’s dealing with panicking kids (and adults even). The plush is a cute calming presence and he gets very good at using it to his advantage when he’s got to corral people or convince kids he’s safe enough to let him carry them to safety.
At some point you do have to talk Hobie out of commissioning the artist who made the initial Spider-Man plush into making a similar plush of him in the suit with his mask off and wicks out and cotton stuffed recreations of his piercings on display. “Are you forgetting you have a whole ass secret identity?” “We don’t know if they’re not trustworthy,” he volleys, voice going nearly reedy as he rubs bashfully at his neck. “We don’t know if they’re trustworthy either, Hobie. Chill, Babe.”
Hobie lets himself see sense eventually, but not before his disappointed pout almost makes you cave.
Hobie will absolutely serenade you and the Spider-Punk plushie with his crude vocals whenever he feels like playing on his downtime or is working on a new song. The clear upside is that he’s got only eyes for you in the moment— and that he’s always been a delight to hear when he’s playing his guitar. He tries to keep the vibe acoustic and mostly succeeds.
PETER B PARKER | SPIDER-MAN
— featuring MJ!Variant!Reader & Biracial!Mayday
“Oh hey! Now this? This is one attractive little guy!”
Peter loves Spider-Man merch as much as the next guy, honestly, so he’s pretty excited when you first show him the plush.
Hell, he’s got a small collection of his own merch that’s been gifted to him by people around New York over the years mounted on a shelf above the tv in your bedroom.
—
“Aw man! They even got the differences in the spiders on my chest and back correct!” Peter twists the thing around in his hands, lighter brown eyes wide with wonder as he looks for a misprint that he’s apparently not finding. “This thing is surprisingly detailed.”
“Mm, I mean they are missing one key feature,” you murmur, eyeing Peter heavily for a second before meeting the brown of his eyes once more.
Peter blinks up at you, expression owlish, but doesn’t object when you press into him. One of his arms comes up like second nature to wrap around your waist and pull you closer. “I mean where? I guess maybe the kind of reflective — pearlescent? — lenses could be what’s throwing you off, but it’s easy enough to overlook…”
Your husband trails off as he keeps looking for whatever objection you could have for the aesthetics of the Spider-Man plushie.
He’s still missing the mark on all fronts when you reach up to lower the hand he’s holding the toy with. Immediately, Peter meets your eyes over the plush’s tiny head and you smile at him. He recognizes the coy lilt to it if the way he goes liquid and malleable for you is any indication, his body pulling into yours easily when you tug at his hips despite all that super strength and his ability to stick that would absolutely stop you from moving him if he didn’t want to be moved.
When you drop your hand over his hip Peter doesn’t stop you, moves to meet your mouth when you move to kiss him too. Which, kiss him you do, moving to cup one hand over his cheek while your other trails from his waist to rest against the soft bulge of his stomach.
“He’s missing your belly,” you say, the tilt of your plush lips wry and your big hazel eyes glittering.
Peter smiles back at you like you’ve hung the moon.
“Oh,” he snorts then, and thankfully it’s not as self-deprecating as it used to be. “I don’t mind, not a lot of people like their heroes pudgy.”
“Well I like mine that way, Tiger,” you purr, reaching your hand around to tug at the shorter hair towards the back of his head and rubbing your thumb softly over his stomach. “So now what?”
“I— god,” Peter stammers, blushing like crazy. You chuckle, moving to squeeze lightly at his side and making his flush travel even more over his face until his ears are beet red and he’s ducking his head to rest against your shoulder.
Eventually he lets out a rush of sigh, shoulders slumping, and admits defeat.
“Flatterer,” he mumbles into your neck, tone playfully accusing, before pressing a kiss to the dewy umber skin at his disposal and wrapping both arms around you despite the plushie still clutched in his other hand.
“Guilty,” you hum, voice low as you run the tip of your broader nose across the pale overheated skin over his jawline.
And then Mayday starts to babble in the distance — clearly over her nap — and you and Pete have to pull apart.
Not before he sweeps you into one more lingering kiss, though. One of his hands tightening around your waist while the other fists into the thick naturally red curls atop your head as he practically dips you. It’s the type of kiss that leaves your dark two-toned lips tingling and has you panting lightly as Peter walks away to go retrieve your child with a wink in your direction and such a cheeky grin splitting his lips that you have to laugh.
—
Mayday gets her hands on the thing in minutes. You can’t be upset at her chewing on the plush’s little hands when she was clearly so excited to see the tiny version of her daddy though.
At one point she does hand it back to you so you can see her dad too. You tell her she’s lucky she’s so cute as you accept the slobber soaked plushie by pinching it between two fingers— this is where a nice set of acrylics can come in handy as some very cute and very impromptu tweezers.
The impromptu tweezer is a familiar tool used in you and Peter’s household btw.
The little chibi-esq Spidey plush, and Mayday’s fascination with it, becomes a spectacular way to keep her from whining and twisting all over the place whenever you sit her down to put in her hairstyle for the rest of the week on Sundays. With the plush held tight in her pudgy hands and her preoccupied by either you and Peter engaging her in conversation the entire time or a slew of Gracie’s Corner videos Mayday is practically a saint as you put anything from Bantu knots to afro puffs to cornrows in her big poof of red hair. Hell, sometimes you even take to letting her hang upside down while you comb out the tangles from her hair and apply any product to her looser coils while she hugs the plush tight to her chest.
Bath time and wash days for Mayday are still absolutely a hassle though considering you won’t allow her to take the Spider-Man plushie into the water. Thankfully that’s Peter’s appointed cuhruckle to deal with; giving you a break to do your own hair and relax a bit.
Peter takes to using the Spider-Man plush as a learning tool pretty quickly too. Showing Mayday how to watch her enhanced strength with demonstrations he puppets the toy to show her how to behave. How she has to be gentle and careful when she touches people or things, and etc.
The plush makes the lessons easier on them both, especially as more of Mayday’s powers manifest that you guys can’t procrastinate on dealing with. The lessons being made easier, too, fights back that little bit of guilt you know Peter still carries for passing on his spider powers to her. Win win, then.
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!
Hopefully everyone’s characterizations weren’t too off because I haven’t seen ATSV in a hot minute, but yeah! This was just a cute little thing to do. And you can pry mj!variant black!reader from my cold dead hands; her eyes are hazel bcs they’re a cross between my typical black!reader-insert’s brown, and MJ’s usual green.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
synopsis :: you and peter mess around in the leaves like you did as kids
warnings :: none, fluff
word count :: 1.5k
pairing :: peter parker x reader
marvel masterlist (not yet linked)
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the landscape, you could feel the crispness of fall in the air. Vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows painted the trees like an artist’s canvas, and the scent of pumpkin spice wafted through your neighborhood. Autumn had always been your favorite season, but this year, it felt even more magical with Peter by your side.
You had decided to spend the weekend at your friend’s family cabin, nestled in the woods. The backdrop of colorful leaves and tranquil nature seemed almost too perfect, but it was even more special because of the cozy moments you shared with him. After a long week, the two of you were in desperate need of a break, and what better way to unwind than to embrace the season?
After gulping down mugs of hot cocoa, jokes flying between you like leaves scattered by the wind, you stepped outside. The chill in the air was invigorating, and each breath felt crisp in your lungs. The soft crunch of fallen leaves underfoot accompanied your laughter as you wandered through the woods, hand in hand with Peter.
Peter stopped suddenly, glancing around with an excited sparkle in his eyes as his gaze settled on a massive pile of leaves, their colors a kaleidoscope of fall. “Do you think it would be acceptable to jump into a pile of leaves right now?” he asked, a hint of mischief dancing in his voice.
You raised an eyebrow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm, let me think…” A wide grin spread across your face as you answered his question in your own playful way. “It’s always acceptable.”
Without losing a second, he grabbed your hand and took off running towards the pile, both of you laughing uncontrollably. The world around you faded away as carefree joy overtook you. He urged you to run faster, pick up your feet, and before you knew it, you were surrounded by the vibrant pile of leaves, the feeling of autumn encapsulating you both.
With one graceful leap, Peter dove into the pile, sending leaves flying in every direction. You couldn’t help but laugh as more leaves tumbled around him. He emerged from the colorful mess with leaves clinging to his dark hair and a bright smile that made your heart race. There was something utterly captivating about the way he could light up a dull day.
“Your turn!” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly for you to join him.
With an eager smile, you stepped back, taking a moment to build up a dramatic run. “Watch this!” you shouted, sprinting toward the pile. You could hear him laughing as you leaped into the air, arms spread wide.
The world went quiet for a heartbeat as you fell into the leaves, and then you were engulfed in a kaleidoscope of color as you landed with a soft thud. You let out a delighted shriek, feeling the leaves cascade around you, swirling like confetti.
When you stood up, you looked like a leaf angel. The autumn debris tangled in your hair and stuck to your clothes, but you could hardly care as you turned to find Peter doubled over in laughter at the sight of you.
“What?!” you asked in mock offense, flicking some leaves at him.
“You look like you just came out of a fall-themed fairy tale,” he teased, shaking his head in delight. “The leaves have declared you their queen.”
“Queen of the leaves, huh?” you smirked, crossing your arms dramatically as you soaked in the moment, the sun glinting off his joyful features. “I guess that means you have to obey my commands.”
“O-okay, Your Majesty!” he replied, still smiling as he bowed slightly, arms extended. “What shall I do first?”
“Build me a throne of leaves!” you declared, your laughter erupting into the crisp air.
“Coming right up!” He set to work, gathering as many leaves as he could. He piled and piled until, at last, he stepped back, gazing at his work with pride.
“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically to the throne. You burst into laughter again at the sight—a haphazard heap of leaves that somehow resembled a throne.
“Well, it certainly is a throne,” you said, playfully inspecting it.
“Now, do you deem it worthy of your royalty?” He watched expectantly, his excitement contagious.
“Hmm…” you pretended to deliberate for a moment before sitting down gingerly. “Ah, it’s surprisingly comfortable! You’ve outdone yourself, Parker.”
He grinned, clearly pleased. “I’m glad to serve my queen well. Would she like to be chosen for a dance among her subjects?”
“Oh, absolutely!” you said, standing up and extending your hand playfully. The world felt like a stage, and in this moment, everything around you faded into a soft blur.
Peter took your hand, leading you both to what was now a leaf-covered dance floor. He twirled you gently under a canopy of branches, laughter ringing through the crisper air. You spun around, your arms wide, feeling free as leaves swirled around you in a beautiful, chaotic dance.
“Do you remember our first autumn together?” you asked in between giggles, love and nostalgia enveloping you as you recounted the memories.
“How could I forget?” he replied, his eyes softening, a hint of melancholy crossing his features. “We spent hours just like this—playing, laughing, and losing ourselves in the moment.”
“Those were some of the best days,” you said, still feeling the flutter of those cherished memories.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “And now, here we are again.”
The dance slowed, and you found yourself lost in his eyes, time pausing as the world around you faded. There was a sweet gravity in the air, the warmth of connection pulling you both closer, as if the autumn leaves themselves were rooting for you.
Suddenly, with a mischievous glint, Peter picked up a handful of leaves and tossed them in the air. They scattered like shooting stars above you, concern and wonder mingling in the dance of colors against the twilight sky.
“What if we made a wish on these leaves?” he suggested, his voice low and intimate.
You looked at him, curiosity dancing in your eyes. “What are we wishing for?”
“Something simple.” He leaned slightly closer. “More moments like this.”
Your heart swelled at his sincerity. “I like that wish. I’ll go first: I wish for more autumn days filled with laughter, joy, and you.”
“Now that is a wish worth granting.” He chuckled softly as you both let your leaves fall.
Your shoulders started shaking with giggles as leaves sprinkled to the ground, your worries melting away with their descent.
Suddenly, he hurriedly added, “And I wish for you to be happy always. That’s my wish.”
His earnestness wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. You felt a rush of affection and warmth, a feeling that transcended the cool fall air.
“Thank you,” you whispered, sincerity lining your tone.
The light began to fade, casting a gentle twilight glow over your heads as you settled back into the leaf pile, an effortless closeness forming between your shoulders. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder.
“Do you think it’ll get colder as the night goes on?” you mused, glancing up at the emerging stars.
“It might, but I have my own heating source right here,” he joked, wrapping his arm around you.
“Very clever,” you chuckled, allowing yourself to snuggle in closer, warmth radiating between you.
The sky transformed into a canvas of twinkling stars, each one beckoning with promises of sweet dreams and gentle wishes. Peter’s comforting presence eased your mind; you felt completely at peace, enveloped in the beauty of the night and the bond you shared.
As laughter danced in the air and the scent of autumn leaves lingered, you realized that you wouldn’t trade this moment—this memory—for anything in the world.
“Peter?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for always making me feel like this.”
He tilted your chin gently, his eyes soft and understanding. “It’s because I love you, you know.”
His words hung between you like the stars above—bold, illuminating, and heavy with meaning. Your heart fluttered, and in that moment, you knew you’d found something truly special.
“I love you too.”
And just like that, the cold of the night fell away, leaving only warmth, laughter, and the promise of many more autumns to come, together.
With a final sigh of contentment, you both leaned back into the leaves, stargazing and dreaming as the universe wrapped its arms around you both, two souls intertwined under the magic of a fall night.
A/N: I wanted to write an angsty comfort fic that I would have wanted/needed when I was younger. Almost like a late gift from present me to past me, to 16 year old Auden, who needed to read something like this at that time in my life. For that reason, I have both Peter and the reader aged at high school level.
(Trigger Warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attacks, and self harm.)
Hyperventilating, you locked the bathroom door behind you and slid down towards the floor, closing your eyes as you felt on the verge of a panic attack. You pulled out your phone and shakily searched for Peter’s contact, calling him immediately. You could still hear your dad yelling in the background, and the sound of broken wood, and your mother crying. Pick up, pick up, pick up, you silently prayed in your head. He finally did and you exhaled slowly, tears stinging in your eyes, trying to collect yourself.
“Y/n?” he asked and you sniffled up your sorrows, trying to put on a brave face.
“Peter,” you whispered. “I need you. It’s bad. Really bad.”
“How bad?” he wondered, worried.
“He’s drinking again,” you informed. “And he’s breaking things.”
“Fuck y/n… Are you safe? Are you okay?” he instantly panicked. “Did he put his hands on you?”
“No, not this time. I’m okay. I’m in the bathroom, I locked the door,” you replied. “But I’m scared he’s going to start knocking or come in.”
“Okay, okay. Stay calm. It’s going to be alright,” Peter reassured. “Meet me at our spot in ten minutes. Do you think you can get there?”
“I can try,” you nodded.
“Go out the back door. Try not to get caught,” he instructed. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“I’ll see you soon,” you mumbled. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Stay strong for me,” he added. “See you in ten.”
Terrified, you stood up, shaking off your nerves, and quietly unlocking the door and creaking it open. You didn’t have time to grab your shoes, and you were scared of getting caught. Clutching your phone in your hand, you booked it down the hallway to the back door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” you heard your father’s voice roar and you ran even faster, the back door slamming behind you, running as fast as your two legs could carry you. You couldn’t think about the repercussions now. It was too late. All you could do was run.
There was a special place you and Peter would go when things got really bad. This little park hidden behind a retirement home, a couple blocks away from your house, a place where nobody would look to find you. A safe place, where you could breathe, where you could meet with your boyfriend Peter, where you could get away from the chaos inside your house. You climbed up the rock wall to the platform above the slide, sitting there and collecting yourself, trying to calm down. Thankfully nobody was around.
The abuse started for as long as you could remember. Your dad was an abusive alcoholic, your mother was complicit, and you were a victim. You spent your childhood hiding from him. Whenever an outburst would happen, you would run to your room or the bathroom. If it was really bad, straight out the door to wherever your tiny feet would carry you. Sometimes that was the neighbor’s house. But often, it was this park.
“Hey,” Peter greeted, climbing up the rock wall, out of breath from running. “Hey, come here. It’s okay.” He opened his arms up for you to crawl into and held you tight, resting his chin above your head, tightening his hold on you. “It’s over now. You’re with me. It’s okay.”
“He broke the telephone,” you recounted, trying to steady my breath. “And he threw his wedding ring. And he broke a chair…”
“Shhh you don’t have to remember it all, darling,” Peter soothed, softly stroking your hair. “Just lay here with me. Just close your eyes. Let it all fade away. Let it all go. Release it.”
“I don’t want to go back, Peter,” you whined softly. “I don’t want to see him again.”
“I know baby,” he frowned, sighing. “We’re going to get you out of there. I promise.”
“I wish we could just run away together,” you whispered. “Somewhere far, far away. Where he can’t get me.”
“Just wait until we graduate,” he promised. “The day after graduation, we take the first train out of here, and we book it to the west coast. We get out of this nothing town and go somewhere nice and sunny with a beach. And I can do my photography and you can do your writing and we can live in a tiny little apartment. Maybe get a cat or something. We can drink coffee in the mornings and wine in the evenings. We can cook meals together in the kitchen, and order take out whenever we’re feeling lazy. We can sleep in on the weekends, and call out on the weekdays whenever we miss each other too much. We can just… be together. Finally. Away from all of this.”
“Please,” you begged quietly.
“Baby-” he put his hand on your thigh and you winced, his expression instantly shifting from comforting and calm to concerned and cautious. “Y/n.”
“Peter I swear-” you began but he shook his head, his brow furrowed, looking at you with worry etched in his eyes.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” you swore. “They’re old.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating saying something, annoyance in his expression.
“They’re old,” you repeated.
“How old?” he asked, voice tinged with anger.
“Like a couple days,” you admitted, embarrassed.
Peter hated it when you self harmed. Especially how good you were at hiding it. You always chose spots you knew nobody would typically find, like your thighs and your hips, but somehow Peter always had a knack for finding out. It made him so sad and so angry. He wished he could take away the pain for you, that he could be enough. He just wanted to protect you, to take you away from this cruel world, to give you everything you deserved and more. As awful as it was, he did prefer you cutting to overdosing though, so he would take it. Especially since you insisted on them being several days old and not fresh.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he wondered after several moments of silence. He gently traced his fingertips over your thighs, ever so gingerly, as if he would press too hard and the cuts would open up all over again.
“I was scared to tell you,” you confessed. “I knew you would be angry.”
“Yeah but not at you,” he shook his head. “Never at you, lovebug.”
You sighed, leaning into him even more, your head resting on his chest. You gazed out into the playground, at the empty swings and the seesaw, the slides and the monkey bars, the familiar scene. “You sure you’re not mad at me?” you mumbled.
“Y/n,” he sat up straight, turning your head towards him, facing you completely. “I could never be mad at you, my love. I’m mad at your dad for hurting you. I’m mad at your mom for letting it happen. I’m mad at the world for being so unfair. But you? I’m not mad at you, baby.”
“Even though I… you know…” your voice trailed off. “Hurt myself?”
“I don’t like that you do it, but I understand why you do,” he admitted. “I wish I could make it so you feel like you don’t have to do that anymore.”
“I want to get better,” you promised. “One day.”
“One day,” he smiled softly, nodding, hopeful. “You are loved, y/n. You are so very loved.” He kissed you softly, pulling away, looking you in the eyes. “You don’t deserve any of this baby. And I’m so sorry it happened to you.”
“I’m just glad I have you, Peter,” you hummed, kissing him again. “Thanks for helping me survive this. For being my escape. For loving me.”
“Always,” he insisted. “Stay strong for me. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just you wait.”
GUYS please I need your help. does anyone recognize the fic that I'm talking about?
it was a peter parker x reader fic, where the two were in a casual relationship because peter's feelings for MJ were unrequited and readers feelings for her crush were unrequited. MJ and the reader's crush got together, and so did reader and peter after getting drunk at a party and then kissing. I read this a while ago so I only remember bits and pieces.
I remember after they hooked up for the first time, peter and reader shower together and it's so sweet and definitely not casual. and I also remember being gagged when peter accidentally calls reader "em".
I also remember the same writer writing a peter parker x silk!reader fic, and I'm pretty sure the writer is Asian. I can't find either of these fics.
please, if you know what I'm talking about, help me out!! it was genuinely some of the best writing I've ever come across.
Summary: Peter Parker, secretly Spider-Man, harbors feelings for his best friend Y/N, a passionate Spider-Man fan. As their friendship grows, Peter must decide whether to reveal his secret identity and hidden emotions.
The faint glow of the city lights illuminated the room, casting soft shadows over the study table where Peter Parker and Y/N sat. They had been friends since high school, and their bond had only grown stronger over the years. Y/N had always been a huge fan of Spider-Man, and she often wore her Spider-Man t-shirt with pride.
Peter had a secret, one that he had been keeping from Y/N for years. He was Spider-Man. He had developed feelings for Y/N during their high school years but had never found the courage to tell her the truth about his alter ego.
As they sat studying, Peter couldn't help but glance at Y/N's Spider-Man t-shirt. It was a simple design, the iconic red and blue spider symbol on a black background, but it meant the world to her.
"Hey, Y/N," Peter began hesitantly, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I couldn't help but notice your shirt. You're a Spider-Man fan?"
Y/N looked down at her shirt and smiled, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh, absolutely! I've always been a huge fan. Spider-Man is so cool, swinging through the city, saving people... I've even got a Spider-Man poster in my room!"
Peter's heart raced as he listened to Y/N's passionate words. He felt a mix of excitement and guilt, knowing that he was the very person she idolized.
"That's really cool," Peter managed to say, trying to hide his emotions. "I've heard he's a pretty amazing guy."
Y/N chuckled. "Oh, definitely! I wish I could meet him someday, thank him for all he does."
Peter swallowed hard, his mind racing. "You never know, Y/N. Maybe one day you'll get the chance."
The rest of the study session went by in a blur for Peter. He couldn't stop thinking about Y/N's love for Spider-Man and how she had no idea that he was the one behind the mask. As they said their goodbyes, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell her the truth, but fear held him back.
Days turned into weeks, and Peter found himself growing more and more infatuated with Y/N. Every time he saw her wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt or talking about her favorite superhero, his feelings for her intensified.
One evening, Peter swung by Y/N's apartment to return a book he had borrowed. As he entered the living room, he spotted Y/N wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt once again, this time paired with pajama bottoms.
"Hey, Peter!" Y/N greeted, her face lighting up with a smile. "Come on in. I was just about to watch a movie. Wanna join me?"
Peter felt his heart skip a beat at the invitation. "Sure, that sounds fun."
They settled on the couch, and Y/N hit play on the remote. As the movie began, Peter found himself watching Y/N more than the screen. Her laughter, her smiles, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement - he was completely captivated by her.
During a particularly intense action scene, Y/N turned to Peter with wide eyes. "Isn't this movie great, Peter?"
Peter chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. "Yeah, it's pretty good."
Y/N's gaze lingered on Peter for a moment longer than usual, her eyes searching his. "You okay, Peter? You seem a little...distracted."
Peter swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush. "I'm fine, just enjoying the movie."
As the night wore on, Peter knew that he couldn't keep his secret from Y/N any longer. He needed to tell her the truth, no matter how scared he was of her reaction.
A few days later, Peter mustered up the courage to invite Y/N over to his apartment under the guise of another study session. As they sat at the kitchen table, books and notes spread out before them, Peter's heart raced.
"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," Peter began, his voice shaking slightly.
Y/N looked up from her notes, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it, Peter? You're acting really strange."
Taking a deep breath, Peter decided to take a leap of faith. "I'm Spider-Man, Y/N."
Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. "You're joking, right?"
Peter shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, I'm serious. I've been Spider-Man since high school."
A long silence filled the room as Y/N processed what Peter had just revealed. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't believe you."
In response, Peter quickly stood up from the table and moved to the center of the room. With a swift motion, he revealed his web shooters from his backpack, shooting a web across the room.
Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched. She felt a whirlwind of emotions - shock, confusion, and a strange sense of betrayal.
"You're really him," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.
Peter nodded, slowly approaching Y/N. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Y/N. I wanted to protect you, but I realize now that keeping this secret from you was a mistake."
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe I've been friends with Spider-Man this whole time and didn't even know it."
Peter reached out, gently wiping away Y/N's tears. "I'm still the same person, Y/N. I'm still your friend, Peter."
Y/N nodded, her gaze softening. "I know, Peter. It's just going to take some time for me to process all of this."
In the days that followed, Y/N grew more comfortable with the truth about Peter's secret identity. She began to see Spider-Man as an extension of Peter, understanding that the hero she had admired for so long was, in fact, the same person she had grown to care for deeply.
As their friendship blossomed, Peter found himself falling even more in love with Y/N. He cherished their moments together, whether they were studying, watching movies, or simply enjoying each other's company.
One evening, as they sat on Y/N's balcony, watching the sunset, Peter decided that it was time to take a chance and confess his true feelings to Y/N.
"Y/N," Peter began, his voice trembling with nervousness. "There's something else I need to tell you."
Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, Peter?"
Taking a deep breath, Peter mustered up the courage to say the words he had been holding back for so long. "I've had feelings for you since high school, Y/N. I've tried to hide them, tried to push them aside, but I can't deny them any longer. I'm in love with you."
Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. She had never expected Peter to confess his feelings so openly, and she felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and joy.
"Peter," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know what to say."
Peter looked down, his heart sinking. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, Y/N. I just needed to be honest with you, just like you were honest with me."
Y/N reached out, gently lifting Peter's chin so that their eyes met. "Peter, I... I have feelings for you too."
Peter looked into Y/N's eyes, his heart racing. "Really?"
"Yes," Y/N nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
A warm smile spread across Peter's face, relief washing over him. Without another word, he leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Y/N responded, wrapping her arms around him as they shared a meaningful and passionate moment.
From that moment on, Peter and Y/N's relationship blossomed into a beautiful romance. Despite the challenges they faced, both as individuals and as a couple, Peter and Y/N's love for each other only grew stronger. They learned to trust each other completely, knowing that they could face anything as long as they had each other by their side.
And so, as the sun set on another day in the city, Peter and Y/N sat together on the balcony, holding hands and looking forward to a future filled with love, understanding, and endless possibilities.
