what about peter parker coming on his pants just from making out with his gf
couldn’t help it - bf!peter parker
the movie had been playing for a few minutes, but neither of you were paying attention. you were too busy sitting in peter’s lap. your fingers lazily wandered through his messy curls, brushing against the nape of his neck.
peter had his face buried in the warm curve of your neck. his breath was slow and warm against your skin as he pressed lazy kisses there. one behind your ear, another trailing down your jaw. his hands, which had been resting on your waist, gripped your thighs and pulled you even closer, like he didn’t want a single inch of space between you.
you tilted your head, giving him more room, and a shiver ran down your spine when his lips found that little spot right behind your ear. his hands started to explore, slowly sliding up your back, pulling you into an embrace that was pure want. when he lifted his head, his dark eyes were half-lidded, focused on your mouth. you didn’t wait. you leaned in and kissed him. slowly at first.
without thinking, your hips started to move. a slow, circular motion, a gentle grind in his lap. you felt his body tense beneath his sweats, and a muffled groan escaped peter’s throat, swallowed by your mouth.
he matched your rhythm, lifting his hips to meet yours, creating a delicious friction that made you bite down on his lip a little harder. his sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he was, and the feeling of him pressing against you, even through the fabric, was almost unbearably good.
peter’s hands slid up your ribs slowly, then moved to the front. he cupped your breasts, his fingers finding your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. he squeezed, and a gasp escaped your lips.
the room felt hotter. both of you were breathing heavy, more ragged. you could feel your own heart racing as the pace quickened.
suddenly, he stopped.
the kiss just ended. he pulled his face back, panting, his chest rising and falling. his hands, which had been on your breasts, moved quickly to cover his own face. there was something strange in his expression, almost like he was embarrassed.
you frowned, a confused smile tugging at your lips. “what’s wrong, baby?” you whispered. he just shook his head, tipping it back like he was exhausted. or trying to hide.
you leaned in and started pressing soft little kisses to his cheek, then along his jaw, trailing down to his neck.
when you got closer to his ear, he finally spoke, his voice coming out in a rough, muffled whisper. “I think… I think I just came in my pants”
you froze for a second. your eyes went wide and a genuine laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “please don’t laugh” he begged. poor peter. but you couldn’t help it.
you moved closer, running your fingers along the back of his neck, making him look at you. you tilted your head and whispered, “aw, babe. next time, just put it in my mouth.”
peter’s already annoyed by the time he swings through the open window, landing onto the hardwood floor of your room as he tosses his mask somewhere on the bedside table.
”it’s stuck,” he says, not even bothering with a hello—fingers rapidly pressing against the spider emblem on his chest, expecting the suit to loosen against his body and fall. “it’s supposed to retract, like—automatically—but it’s not doing anything.”
“so you broke it,” you glance at him, unimpressed.
“i didn’t break it,” he says immediately, pressing it again. nothing happens.
he pauses, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “okay, i might have to tell mr. stark i broke it…” he trails off, before adding quickly, “but i didn’t mean to! i mean, maybe he should work harder on his designs—“
you snort, cutting him off as you step closer. “yeah, good luck with that. i’m sure he’ll be ecstatic.”
peter drops his hand, looking down at the suit like it personally offended him. “well, i can’t exactly just take it off—it’s, like, suctioned on or something. stark tech.” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as you step closer, hand reaching out.
you reach for the edge of the suit between his neck and shoulder, pinching the fabric between your fingers and tugging. it resists for a second before slightly peeling back with a stretch.
“i’m sure we can just peel it off,” you say, looking at him as if you’ve cracked the code.
“peel it?” he repeats.
“do you have a better idea?”
“…no.”
you tug again, slower this time, attempting to work it down his arm while he tries to help by shifting his shoulder, which does absolutely nothing. “stop moving,” you tell him, half focused as you watch the suit restrict stubbornly against his skin.
“hey, i’m trying to make it easier, because if—”
“peter.”
he huffs out a quiet mumble but stays still this time, eyes following your movements as you continue to pull the suit down inch by inch—well, you try to. it’s way more effort than it should be, the material clinging stubbornly and bunching awkwardly around the top of his bicep. peter watches as you huff frustratedly when your efforts to tug the suit down his arm fail.
“i swear, if this rips, i am a dead man. i don’t even know if this can rip, but if it does, i am so dead. you understand that, right? mr. stark’s—“
you ignore peter’s usual rambling, used to it by now as you tug harder. “this is your own doing, by the way… can you lift your arm up more?”
“i am lifting it,” he insists, like that’s supposed to prove something, except his arm barely moves—if anything, the suit just tightens more around it.
you pause, staring at the way it’s scrunched around the top of his bicep and shoulder. “…peter.”
“what?”
“i think you made it worse.”
“what? i didn’t make it worse—” he starts, trying to tug his arm free himself, which very quickly backfires. the material pulls tighter, not looser, nearly snapping back as you move my hand away, holding in a laugh at the awkward position peter’s arm was now in.
he stops. “…okay, wait.”
you let out a small laugh under your breath, grabbing the fabric again, fingers pressing in as you try to peel it down further. it doesn’t budge this time—completely stuck, like it’s decided that’s just where it lives now.
“yeah, no, your arm’s actually trapped,” you conclude him, “you’re out of luck. i think we need scissors..”
“it’s not trapped!” peter says determinedly, twisting his wrist a little as if that’s gonna fix anything. it doesn’t.
your hand goes up to pull again, harder than before, and he huffs out a quiet “okay—okay,” shifting his weight slightly as he tries to help.
“i wouldn’t move if i were you,” you warn, already knowing he’s about to make it worse again.
“i’m not—i’m just—”
he leans forward a little bit too much, free hand coming to hold lightly against the curve of your waist. “peter—”
his balance slips, and before either of you can fix it, he’s tipping into you, the weight of him knocking you back onto the bed with a soft thud, the both of you landing in a mess of limbs, peter in a half stuck spider-suit on top of you. the both of you let out a fit of giggles, somewhere between amused and mildly defeated, peter’s head dipping as he braces himself above you.
“…okay,” he breathes, glancing down at his arm, still very much stuck, “new plan. you get the scissors and cut me out of this thing. i’ll just tell mr. stark it… exploded?”
you can’t help it—you laugh, shaking your head a little, your hands still caught in the fabric bunched between you.
synopsis: Peter really likes your Spiderman pajama pants
warnings: kinda suggestive
Peter Parker swung into your apartment window mid-sentence, mask pulled halfway up his face as he rambled about patrol. “And, seriously, who even owns a unicycle anymore? Like, that’s gotta be—”
He stopped abruptly, mid-step, when his eyes landed on you.
You were sitting at your vanity, totally unaware of the effect you were having on him. Your head was tilted slightly as you concentrated on whatever you were holding—maybe a bottle of lotion, maybe a tube of lip balm, he couldn’t even tell because his attention had zeroed in on something else entirely.
It was the pants.
The red and blue Spider-Man pajama pants that hung low on your hips, decorated with tiny web patterns and logos. His logo. Paired with your black tank top, the whole look made him forget how to breathe for a second.
“Are you—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, his mask now forgotten in his hand. “Are those... Spider-Man pajamas?”
You glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror. The corner of your mouth quirked into a grin, like you’d been waiting for him to notice. “Uh-huh,” you said casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Cute, right?”
Peter blinked, still standing near the window like his feet had been glued to the floor. “Cute?” He let out a short laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “No, no. You don’t get to call that cute. That’s—damn, baby. That’s a problem.”
Turning in your chair, you swiveled to face him, laughing softly at the look on his face. “Oh! I almost forgot to show you the full effect.”
You stood up, giving a playful little spin that made the fabric swish around your legs. When you stopped, your hands went to your hips, and you grinned at him like you knew exactly what you were doing.
Peter groaned, running his hand through his hair as he finally pushed away from the window and crossed the room in three long strides. His hands found your waist as he pulled you against him, his thumbs brushing along the waistband of the pants.
“I can’t even be mad about this,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “You look so good with me all over you. Pun very much intended.”
Your grin turned mischievous as you leaned closer, your breath warm against his skin. “Well, I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got on underneath.”
Peter blinked, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as his brain tried to catch up. “Underneath?”
With a sly smile, you stepped back just enough to hook your thumbs into the waistband of the pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal a peek of red and blue. The Spider-Man bra and panties were unmistakable—the webbed details, the tiny logos, the way they hugged your skin perfectly.
Peter stared, his mouth falling open slightly as his eyes darted between your face and the glimpse of fabric. For a moment, it seemed like he couldn’t even speak, his brain short-circuiting entirely.
“Oh no,” you teased, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “Did I break Spider-Man?”
He let out a breathless laugh, his hands running through his hair as he closed the space between you again. “You’re insane,” he muttered, his hands sliding back to your waist as he leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours. “And I am obsessed with you.”
your suit was torn in several spots, the symbolic webbing ripped open to reveal bloodied skin. the window sill of the mansion was slick, the rain doing little to help your case. thunder struck in time with your soft bang against the edge, knocking the window open. you slid inside, quietly latching the lock behind you.
lightning flashed, illuminating the room. you pried the mask off your head, hair bouncing free as you breathed deeply. your wounds ached, and you grimaced when a particularly harsh throb wracked your ribs. you leaned against the wall, grateful for the dark that encased the room.
remy was out for the night, you were certain. he’d left you a note, saying he and the guys went to a gaming hall. you’d smiled fondly at the tiny heart he left next to his name.
you stumbled into the bathroom, blood smearing along the walls and the counter. the toothbrush cup fell over, spilling onto the floor. you went down next, your shaking arms barely able to hold yourself up.
before you could even think of picking them up, lights flicked on as the floors creaked.
“chère?”
you reached for the door, throwing your limp body against it. remy’s shadow appeared from under the door, his knuckles tapping against the wood, “did i wake ya up? y’alright?”
“m’fine, remy,” you shakily spoke, biting back a wince as your fingers dipped into the wound. you felt the hard casing of the bullet. “can’t lie t’remy, mon ami. let him in, please.” your nails grazed the bullet, a quiet grunt leaving your lips at the ache.
your brows knit together when the door you rested on began to rattle. it warmed, and you quickly scooted away when you saw the purple flecks of kinetic energy swirling around the doorknob. “remy—!”
it opened.
and there he was.
dressed casually—in one of those crop tops he adored and jeans—like he didn’t bankrupt other gamblers and win every game of poker. his crimson hair was fluffy.
“where’s your coat?” you asked with a gentle frown. it was cold outside, didn’t he wear one?
“you bleedin’ on our floor ‘n askin’ about some coat?” he knelt next to you, necklaces clinking as he tore his gloves off. you watched him tug the first aid kit from the cabinet, flicking it open and getting to work. remy was uncharacteristically quiet, which worried you deeply. he hadn’t acknowledged the suit you wore, nor gloated about the sheer amount he’d won tonight.
you grimaced when the bullet clinked on the tile, feeling your enhanced regeneration tingle through your cells. “i knew,” remy spoke, resting a comforting hand on your thigh, “‘bout de…spider thing. did’ya think i wouldn’t notice?”
you looked away, silent and ashamed.
“m’not mad at ya, chère. not even a lil,” he soothed, clasping a firm hand under your jaw and guiding your face back to his, “just wish ya told remy sooner. he didn’t wanna see ya like t’is before ya told him.”
“i’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling the skin of the wound close. remy stared down at it, dual-colored eyes swirled with confusion. “i heal over time,” you explained, “gunshots take longer, usually.” he shook his head with a fond grin, as if the thought of your wounds taking longer to heal would quell his worries.
remy’s eyes were molten, swirling with sparks of purple and admiration. it was quiet, his thumb simply sweeping over your cheek as your healing tingled your cells. “how much did you win?” you asked after a while, allowing him to scoop you up and carry you to the bedroom. “i’m offended, chère. ‘course i won lots,” he smirked lazily, “wan’ somethin’? remy’ll get it for ya.”
“my suit kinda needs repairs,” you sheepishly admitted, and he laughed. “mm. dunno ‘bout supportin’ such…dangerous endeavors..” he got you comfortably in bed, joining you quickly, and tucked you close. remy was always warm. you buried your face in his chest, hiding from his blazing eyes upon your next words, “and i wanted to go shopping for a dress for emma’s event..”
“ooh, now dat—remy’s got plenty,” his lips pressed against your head, “oughta let me see ev’ryone of ‘em. touch, too. tha’s requirement. needa see if the…quality is worth de price.”
you smiled and giggled, keeping your warm face hidden from him, “required, huh? you sure it’s just to test the fabric quality?”
“guilty as charged,” he mused, dragging his fingers along your spine, “close ‘dem eyes, chère. sleep f’remy.”
you hummed softly, the ache in your bones fading as remy’s touch soothed them. outside, sirens still blared and criminals still ran rampant—but right now? you were simply remy’s.
daredevil … MATTHEW MURDOCK
you’d learned how to circle matt.
adapted to his schedules, shifted around mishaps, smiled through painful throbs of bruises—you’d perfected it.
until you seen him out.
you were perched on a balcony, fingers barely grazing the iron safety bars. it was 3am, and matt was usually asleep at this time. home from a long day of court, and tonight, he mentioned going out to drink with foggy and karen. he was home at midnight—why was he out now?
you quietly leapt across buildings, pausing every time he paused, moving when he moved. his cane tapped lightly against the concrete, the familiar clicks making your heart rate slow.
then, a hand shot from the darkness.
matt was yanked into an alley, and you launched into action. you watched as the man threw matt to the ground, and before matt could retaliate, you were there. your fist collided with the thug’s face, webs zipping! out. your foot landed on his shoulder, launching yourself and him up as you threw punch after punch and kick after kick. the webs clung to him, pinning his struggling and bruised frame against the brick wall.
your feet touched the pavement, kneeling in front of a winded matt.
“sir, sir, are you alright?”
“i knew it,” he breathed, smiling in that utterly pleased way of his. you tried to subdue your increasing heart rate, handing him his cane, “knew what?” matt’s head tilted knowingly, hands drifting forward to grip your waist.
“i’m not a fool, sweetheart. i know your heartbeat,” matt leaned up, and you had to look away from him, “it got faster. you’re nervous. i know your footsteps—your breaths.” matt pushed himself off the ground, and you slid his cane in his hand. he took a step towards you, lips still pulled into that infuriating smile of his. you tried to pull away quickly, but he caught your wrist, “i know your touch, your hands. even if they’re covered.”
“did you plan this or something?” you embarrassedly asked, keeping your eyes averted as he tugged you closer. his lips curled up further, and you groaned in disdain, “matt!”
“don’t be like that,” he cooed, “i was getting tired of you tiptoeing around it. so, i gave you a reason to tell me.” your head thumped against his chest, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. he swayed you lightly, chin propped atop your head. he smelled like warm sheets and the candle on the nightstand.
“go home, please.”
“come with me,” he countered, bringing both arms around you. his fingers traced the webbing of your suit, trailing around the spider design on your back. “i can’t,” you muttered, tensing when one of his hands dragged up your arm. his fingertips grazed along your mask, and you clasped his wrist tightly, “matt…”
“just for a minute, baby,” he whispered, “please?” you hesitated, nodding briefly. matt lifted your mask over your nose, and you felt his breath tickle your lips.
then, you felt his softness.
matt’s hands held your face, his shoulders dropping in utter bliss. you backed him into the wall, smiling into the kiss. you broke apart, foreheads resting together.
your lips parted to speak—
“hey, can you let me down please? i need to go to the doctor!”
your head jerked up, and matt laughed:
“foggy?!”
SPIDERMAN … peter parker
it was hard being new york’s third spidey.
you usually stayed under the radar, cleaning up when peter or miles couldn’t—but there was one tiny issue.
they had no idea it was you.
peter was at grad school for the majority of the day—miles surely contemplating his existence in high school—so you had opportune time to be spidey during the day. they’d tried to contact you, of course, but you’d made it a point to avoid them at all costs.
right now, you were perched on a rooftop, eyes skimming across the city as you held a large icee in your hand. you sipped casually, flinching when your comms began to ring. your fingers pressed against your ear, a soft hum leaving your lips.
“hi, honey,” you greeted, “what’s up?”
peter didn’t answer.
“peter?”
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“tell you what?” you calmly asked, keeping your voice level despite the panic creeping up your spine. peter sighed, displeased, “delmar’s pickle sub was on sale an hour ago.”
“oh,” you laughed, relieved, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know it was.” peter groaned childishly, and you vaguely heard the bustling sounds of the cafeteria. “are you with miles?”
“yeah. gonna take him to get some actual food for his final week,” you heard him call him over, and then you heard his voice, “hey, pete’s taking me to get actual food. do you wanna go?”
your lips parted to agree, but a loud screech and explosions sounded nearby. you heard the phone rustle, “what was that? baby?”
“nothing—i gotta go, have fun!”
you swiftly hung up, ignoring the way peter called you back instantly. you tugged your mask back on, tossing your empty icee cup in a trashcan as you swung to the scene. you landed atop a streetlight, frowning when you saw a group of men holding women hostage.
their massive guns waved haphazardly, and you teasingly called out, “got a license for those?”
“it’s the spider!”
“which one?!”
you catapulted yourself at them, web bombs flying from your palms. the sticky threads flawlessly coiled around them, pinning them in one webbed up cluster. “huh. that was easy,” you shrugged, walking over to the women.
“hi,” you whispered, “anyone hurt?”
they shook their heads as you gently guided them away. you flinched when a sharp pain pierced your side. you glanced down, spotting an unfamiliar object. the dart’s contents were glowing purple, and your body broke into shivers upon its dispersal into your bloodstream.
“haha! it worked!” the cluster cheered.
you shot a web, barely able to swing properly. you crash landed on a nearby roof, curling up into a ball as your body shook. you were freezing despite the boiling hot weather.
“spidey?” the voice was warbled, but you recognized the familiar red and blue suit, accompanied by the black and red one. you tried to move, to hide from him, but his hand carefully moved you on your back.
“hey, hey, what happened?”
you shook your head, fingers grazing the rooftop’s edge. you were in agony. cold, hot, boiling, freezing, shivering, paralyzed.
“you need fresh air,” miles worriedly said, his hands nearing the hem of your mask. you weakly slapped them away, and he looked at peter for guidance.
“we promise we’ll keep your secret,” peter comfortingly said, “we can help you.”
“i don’t want it,” you heaved, mustering up enough courage to toss yourself off the edge. your body freefell, but your webs missed their landing—
a hand coiled around your wrist, your body dangling against the wall. you tiredly looked up, spotting peter upside down in front of you. he was stuck to the wall, one hand next to your head as the other held you up by your wrist.
“i tried to give you openings, but i seriously can’t take it anymore,” peter reached for your mask, yanking it up and off before you could react, “baby, please. we need to get you to the hospital.”
your mind was rendered to nothing but mush.
you could only hum and grumble, and you grimaced when he swept you up. your vision went dark, all you felt was his arms.
when you woke, he was staring at you with an intensity and a sadness you hadn’t seen since aunt may.
“pete?” you tiredly whispered. he didn’t speak, his knee bouncing rapidly, “are you mad?”
“i’d be a hypocrite if i were mad,” he sighed, shifting from his seat and sitting next to you on the bed. his fingers traced along your cheek, a weak smile on his lips.
“you could’ve told me.”
you didn’t answer to that, lifting your hand to cup his. his warmth permeated the cold of your skin. you shrugged softly, and he laughed as he pressed his lips to yours. “mm. i guess i didn’t tell you either, huh?”
“no, you didn’t,” you mused, “i found out because you left your mask in—“
“you promised not to talk about that!”
wolverine … LOGAN HOWLETT
“she’s not herself—logan!” charles shouted, turning in his wheelchair in an attempt to stop him.
“i don’t give a damn,” he snarled, spinning on his heel, “she’s mine. some fish-bowl headed lunatic ain’t takin’ her from me.” ororo stood instantly, grabbing her jacket and following him out. he briefly shot her a look of gratitude and utter respect, to which she nodded once.
storm always had his back.
the jet rumbled as it zipped through the air, and its screens displayed you in the city. mysterio hovered near you, the sky dim as the people’s symbol of hope ebbed away. “get me as close as you can,” logan grumbled to scott, who didn’t respond with one of his usual remarks.
he understood the gravity of the situation.
you, the girl who swung with webs through new york city, hands outstretched to whoever needed help—a child who fell off their bike, a man kicking a vending machine that took his money, the elderly woman who needs help crossing the hectic street—you were there.
now, you were suspended midair, body lifeless as mysterio’s control seeped into your mind. citizens cried and begged, their fingertips barely able to reach you.
“ah, the x-men,” mysterio cooed, “come to save a fellow hero?”
the jet landed harshly, and logan leapt out. he stormed closer, feeling the soft breeze of ororo’s aura behind him. jean and scott joined them, their eyes blazing with rage.
“where did you take them?” scott shouted. mysterio’s arms stretched wide, “allow me to show you.”
the city faded to black.
bodies were thrown and tossed about, and logan seen you. your suit was shredded to pieces, your mask completely gone. your eyes were black, tears staining your cheeks. blood coated your skin as you stood atop a pile of bodies.
how long had you been here?
what were you seeing?
he turned around, tensing when he realized that he was the only one here. logan sprinted toward you, and your eyes jerked to him. you jumped, webs slinging out to stop him. webs cocooned him in seconds.
your fingertips dug into his face, “sick joke, mysterio. using him against me.”
“bub—“
“stop talking,” you seethed, fresh tears filling your eyes, “i will break your neck.” logan’s claws slid free, slicing through the webs and shoving you against the ground. his hand pressed against your throat—a warning. “listen to me,” his tone was firm, eyes dark with anger, “yer stuck in an illusion. he threw me in here w’you.”
“you’re—lying!” your knee dug harshly into his stomach, but he didn’t move. logan’s claws dug into the asphalt, solidifying his posture, “i ain’t lyin’, stubborn thing. it’s logan,” he stressed, eyes flicking all over your injuries, “look.”
he cautiously raised a hand, reaching for the neck of his white shirt and tugging the collar down. a thin chain with a ring looped onto it—the stupid matching rings you’d bought as a peace treaty after a big argument. you faltered in your fight, hand lifting to further pull the shirt down—
“now yer just pushin’ it.”
then he felt your fingertips brush along a scar.
one that very little knew was there.
the scar that you’d given him for moments like these, moments that needed proof and grounding. logan relaxed, leaning back and pulling you up with him. you traced the tiny X with care, and he frowned when tears filled your eyes. “c’mon, sweets. don’t cry.”
your palms roughly swiped at your eyes, your breaths growing scarce, and his hands easily found your wrists, “stop. breathe.”
you cried apologies, falling into his arms. logan sighed, standing up with you secure in his hold. he rubbed your back as he walked through the domain, ears tuned into finding his comrades.
when he reconnected with the group, ororo greeted you with a soft smile. you stayed in his arms, eyes forcefully averted from the carnage you’d unleashed in here. logan wasn’t worried about getting stuck in the domain, he knew they’d find their way out eventually.
but right now, he had you—his darling spider—in his arms, and you needed him.
HUMAN TORCH … johnny storm
you’d broken your arm in an intense fight with sandman. you remembered the sick crack, the way your forearm was angled incorrectly as you sheepishly showed it to the emergency room workers. you hadn’t been able to reset the bone, so it had begun to heal like that. the doctors, pitifully, had to re-break the bone just to fix it.
it healed a week ago.
johnny still hadn’t stopped pampering you.
he refused to “hand you over” to peter when the city called, he refused to let you do literally anything. tonight, peter had messaged you, desperate for help on an intel-related task. johnny was sleeping, and so, you’d taken the opportunity.
you quietly snuck out of the bedroom, suit zipped up and ready to go. herbie appeared at the end of the hallway, his little head tilting curiously. you knelt in front of him, gently rubbing his head, “i’ll be back soon, herbie. don’t worry.”
“johnny?” he beeped quietly.
“sleeping. if he’s up before i leave, tell him i went shopping. wait, no don’t tell him that, he’ll be upset,” you considered a proper response, sighing as you shook your head and came up empty, “just tell him i’m helping pete.”
herbie beeped, nodding. he nuzzled into your hand, and you smiled warmly. “bye, be good.”
he followed you to the balcony, watching you closely as you leapt off it. the sky was blanketed with stars as you zipped through the city, landing calmly on the appointed building. peter appeared from around the corner, waving as he landed. “hey, thanks for coming. did johnny let you go easy?”
“i didn’t wake him up,” you admitted, “didn’t feel like arguing and wasting time.” peter hummed knowingly, perching next to you and pointing at the condemned factory.
“kraven’s got stuff in there. need to know all about it.”
“easy,” you mused.
it was in fact, not easy.
you and peter breathed heavily behind cover, bullet wounds coating the two of you. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, wincing at a throb of pain. “uh-huh,” you mockingly replied, flinching when a bullet embedded the wall next to you.
you silently contemplated what to do—
you were cornered, blood dripping from nearly every part of your body. peter was in a similar shape, wounded and exhausted. you groaned, your head thumping against the wood crate, “use the signal.”
“seriously? johnny’s gonna kill us…”
“i’d rather die to him than these guys, pete. just do it.”
peter visibly accepted his fate, thumb pressing against the line of webbing that alerted the fantastic four. within seconds, your comms rang. you pressed your ear against your shoulder, too tired to raise your hands.
“that better not have anything to do with you.”
“i don’t know how to tell you this,” you laughed weakly, “but it kind of has everything to do with me.”
johnny didn’t speak, comms shutting off. peter met your masked eyes, “how bad?”
“he’s dead silent,” you solemnly said.
“shit.”
the glass erupted into shards, and you flinched when rapid gunshots fired. a bright orange glow encased the room, and you vaguely heard the soft thrumming of sue’s barrier.
loud footsteps sounded to your left, and you saw ben standing over the two of you.
“hey,” you and peter greeted casually, as if the two of you weren’t staining the floor red. johnny landed next to ben, expression utterly displeased and furious. he knelt next to you, sending a nasty stare towards peter as he scooped you up.
“i’m sorry, man!” peter shouted as johnny walked away. he didn’t say a word as he ignited into flames and shot off towards the hospital.
“stupid, stupid,” he muttered, “i’m gonna sell out everything he loves.”
“johnny—“
“you scared me, baby,” he admitted, “woke up to the signal going off, you not in my arms.”
you murmured an apology, doing your best to withstand the heat he emitted. your suit was fireproof, courtesy of reed, but some places were torn. “do you wanna know how long i’m keeping you to myself now?”
you sighed, eyes closing as you accepted the inevitable.
“how long, johnny?”
“three months.”
generous, you thought amusedly.
“you’re also prohibited from communicating with peter for a good year.”
the doctors made quick work of you, and you assured them your healing would take care of what they couldn’t quickly fix. they had other people to help, people that couldn’t self-sustain.
now, you were in bed with johnny.
he had you wrapped in his arms, tightly. “are you gonna hold me like this the whole three months?” you softly asked, tapping your fingers on his back to the rhythm of the song he’d chosen.
“if i have to. i’ll hold you in the shower, at dinnertime, while you get ready,” he listed off, eyes sparkling with mischief. you smiled, cuddling closer to him. he kissed your head, gently pulling you away so he can reach the rest of your face. he peppered kisses on your skin, pausing before he reached your lips.
his blue eyes swirled with worry and love, and you nodded.
he kissed you sweetly, embers flickering in his hair. you separated with a shy laugh, and he embraced you again.
“seriously, don’t scare me like that again. especially don’t just…leave.”
summary: where aunt may almost catches peter and y/n mid make-out session
a/n: based on a tiktok that i saw a while ago (unfortunately the person deleted their account so i can't link the video anymore), hope you enjoy! <3
warnings: suggestive content
universe: marvel
Your fingernails leave light reddish scratch marks on Peter's soft skin, your hands slowly sliding from his back to his biceps. His hands are wrapped tightly around your waist as he kisses you passionately, gently pressing you deeper into the pillows of his bed. Lovingly, he nibbles on your lower lip, making you giggle, before his kisses move from your flushed lips to your neck. You bury your hands in his soft, now slightly messy brown locks and close your eyes, enjoying how he savours every inch of your skin.
His kisses send shivers down your spine and his ragged breathing against your neck gives you goosebumps. In fact, you could lie here all day long and just enjoy each and every single one of his tender touches, be it with his hands or his lips.
Unfortunately, you are not allowed to enjoy this moment much longer because Peter suddenly jumps up in surprise, his spider senses apparently striking, leaving you baffled.
"Oh shit."
You can't read the look on his face to get an idea of what's happening, but you don't have to because you can clearly hear the door to the apartment unlocking and opening in the next moment, his aunt coming in.
"Peter? I'm back!"
You look at each other in silence for a few seconds, your eyes wide, holding your breath. Then, all of a sudden, you free yourself from each other's grip, Peter almost tumbling off the bed in an attempt to stand up as silently as possible.
"What is your aunt doing here?! You said she wouldn't be back until this evening!", you hiss at him under your breath, getting up from his bed while pulling down your shirt, which has ridden up due to your rough make-out session.
"She shouldn't be back already!", Peter whisper-yells back, looking around his room, desperately searching for help. There really aren't many places for you to hide here. His closet is full of piles of clothes and his room is over all pretty cluttered. Not that it usually bothers you, but it is pretty inconvenient right now.
Because his aunt doesn't know about the two of you and you don't intend on her to find out. Especially not like this.
Once she knows, your father will know, and that is going to be a problem.
"Peter? Are you here?", May calls out through the apartment and when you hear footsteps approaching, Peter gently grabs your arms and frantically helps you hide under his bed. May opens the door just as Peter quickly drapes the blanket over the edge of the bed so that you are hidden. Quickly, you hold your breath and hope she can't hear your fast beating heart.
"M-May. What... Uhm, what are you doing here? Already?", Peter chuckles nervously, trying to act as innocent as possible while trying to cover his bare upper body with his arms. May's eyes narrow as she looks at him suspiciously. Her eyes wander around the room, sensing that something is off.
"Why are you not wearing a shirt?", she asks him, her brows furrowed. Peter opens his mouth, but because he has no idea what to say to explain himself, he closes it again. Then he opens it once more, but again can't think of a good excuse.
"You know what? I don't even want to know", she shakes her head, waving a towel around that she must have picked up from the kitchen on her way to his room. "Make sure you put something on though. Something presentable, preferably."
"S-Sure. Why, exactly?", Peter asks with uncertainty in his voice, shuffling to the right to pick up his shirt which was carelessly thrown onto the floor. While doing so, he makes sure that he's still right in front of the bed where you are trying to be as silent as possible. In one quick, smooth movement, Peter pulls his shirt over his head, hiding the obvious clues of what was happening in this room mere seconds ago.
"I invited the Starks for dinner."
"What?", you mumble under your breath at the same time as Peter says it out loud.
"Not quite the reaction I expected, to be honest", May chuckles, pulling a claw clip out of her hair so that her long brown hair falls over her shoulders. "You enjoyed your internship at Stark Industries with Mr. Stark so much and I thought I would be doing you a favour. His wife and daughter will be here, too. And that cute chief of security, Happy was his name?"
"Eww, May!", Peter turns away from her with disgust, shuddering at the thought that his aunt has a thing for Happy out of all people. Nevertheless, his gaze shortly wanders to the framed certificate on the wall that testifies his successful work with the Stark Industries Internship Program. Thank God Aunt May doesn't know that he actually flew to Germany and was involved in a conflict between the Avengers during this so-called 'internship'.
Even though you can't see his aunt from your - extremely uncomfortable - position under the bed, you can literally hear her roll her eyes.
"Do me a favour", she then proceeds, combing her fingers through her hair. "Be sweet to Y/N. She kinda has a crush on you."
Your whole face flushes at once and you almost start coughing, choking on air you inhaled too abruptly, but instead you cover your mouth with your hand.
"Really?", Peter asks with such feigned disbelief that it's extremely suspicious. His voice perfectly captures the satisfaction he's feeling right now and you just know that he currently has that smug smile on his face that you ever so often would like to wipe off.
"I had no idea", he adds to your misery, chuckling a bit under his breath.
"Of course you didn't. Boys never do", May announces with a laugh, teasing her nephew before finally leaving the room and closing the door shut behind her. Her footsteps move away and once he's sure the situation is safe, Peter immediately bursts into a fit of laughter.
"Shut up!", you say angrily and punch the bed from underneath to make him stop laughing. You sigh in defeat when he doesn't. You'd love nothing more than to stay under his mattress forever and never look at him again because everything about this situation is incredibly awkward and makes you want to disappear into thin air.
Peter's laughing face appears in front of you as he kneels down and pushes aside the blanket. The moment he sees you, an emotion darts across his face that you can't quite place, but it certainly has something to do with the intense blush on your cheeks.
"Didn't know you had a crush on me", he mocks you with a wink, trying his best to contain his laughter, and reaches for your hands to help you out.
"Didn't know you were such an idiot", you counter and can't help but let out a soft giggle from the cramped space underneath the bed before you let him free you.
As soon as you're standing upright again, you playfully punch him in the chest and adjust your top, which has slipped from all the action. It only takes him three seconds to pull you towards him by the wrist and kiss you hard, your face in his hands. You sink into him.
"No, but seriously, when did you develop this crush on me? I'd love to know", he murmurs against your lips with a smile, which only earns him a groan from your side. "If Aunt May knew what we did before-"
"I suppose we don't want neither her nor my parents to find out about us like this, so I suggest I get going", you interrupt him, placing your hands on his firm chest to push him away from you. Which is pretty hard since he doesn't want to let go of you just yet.
"I'm sure you'll look stunning at dinner", Peter smirks, his hands riding up your hips to lift up your shirt again. Immediately, you swat his hands away and turn to the window.
"Behave yourself", you roll your eyes with a smile, knowing full well he adores you in any piece of clothing. Or none.
Peter helps you open up the window, the soundscape of New York immediately entering the room. He steadies you while helping you out the window and then wraps his hands tightly around your waist before using one of his webs to gently lower the both of you into the alley outside his window.
Something you're very practiced in with the amount of times you had to sneak out of his room in the middle of the night.
"See you later, Spidey", you say and move to kiss his cheek, but he immediately goes for the full kiss, seemingly not getting enough of you. "And don't embarrass me again."
"I wouldn't think of it!", he answers in shock, as if it isn't something he absolutely loves to do, just to see your adorable reaction to it. You shake your head, smiling and waving as you walk to the main street.
"We still need to finish this!", Peter calls after you and sends another wave of heat to your head, your heart beating faster.
That's what having a crush on Peter Parker does to someone.
summary: as a stark, admitting you were sick and getting help was a fight peter knew he wouldn't win. but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try.
wc: ~2.2k
cw: sick fic baby!!! nothing too descriptive, mentions of IVs/needles (again, not descriptive at all but still), peter has a potty mouth, pining, friends to more than friends vibes, and insane amount of fluff
based on this request!
masterlist and taglist
peter knew the moment you weren't feeling well — he noticed how your heart rate was slightly faster than normal, he'd begun to take note of how your brain fog was ever so heavier than normal. initially, he'd assumed it had been from the stress of your finals coming up, and he knew just how hard you'd been pushing yourself while studying.
but then you started to grow more winded while out on patrol, stopping more often and coughing your lungs out on the roof of an apartment building, muffled excuses of "a bug in your mask," struggling to escape from your lips. he noticed how the color in your face seemed to drain more and more as the week progressed.
now, peter wasn't stupid. you were a stark, and he knew better than to expect you to acknowledge being sick, and he definitely knew better than to say something about it. but as the days passed and the bags under your eyes gained new colors, his concern overrode all precautionary measures.
"hey, are you feeling okay?" peter prodded quietly, the regret prominent in his wavering voice.
you looked up from your notes to give him the exact look he expected. "excuse me?"
"i-i'm just saying! you seem a bit... under the weather. maybe you could take tonight off — i can cover patrol. you know, get some... rest..." peter trailed off as you turned to face him with your arms crossed.
"oh, i'm sorry. i wasn't aware you thought i wasn't capable of doing my job? how dare you even begin to insinuate..."
you launched into an exact speech peter had heard tony give pepper when he'd been in the lab for 72 hours straight. he rolled his eyes at you, raising his hands with a defeated "okay, okay!" as an apology for daring to imply you weren't at 110%.
but it was peter, and he was determined to work around your stubbornness to bring you any sort of relief as you surely began to not get even sicker.
so suddenly, peter became the walking equivalent of a pharmacy, making sure he had anything you could possibly need from tylenol to anti-nausea meds, on the off chance you mentioned the headache you had. he stayed up the next night to override his own protocols into FRIDAY, ensuring that your room had proper air filtration, a stable temperature, and the lighting was never too bright for you. he practically bought delmar's out of their tissue supply, nonchalantly stocking each room of the tower so you'd never be out when you needed one.
and above everything else, he was at your hip nearly 24 hours a day.
the two of you had grown close over the years since he joined the team, and it was no secret how inseparable a pair you were. so it was no surprise to anyone when peter hung from your frame at every interaction, dotting on your every need. seeing you miserable made him miserable, and he was determined to help you any way he knew how, especially as you both prepared for your finals.
you tried to not notice it, and tried to not acknowledge that he was, in fact, helping you. but each act of service he sent your way only softened your heart for him more.
similarly, two problems had now been posed to peter over the last week.
one: he was beginning to discover that the more he was around you, the more domestic moments and downtime he had with you, the harder he was falling for you. what was once a silly crush he often brushed off was blooming into something much deeper.
two: peter was now also sick. but he'd be damned if he showed it before you did.
so he broke into his own med stash he had specifically for you, gummed cough drops in secret, and prayed to tony himself that you didn't question why he was wearing a hoodie in july.
after two straight days of essays and presentations, both of you were knocking on death's door. by now, fever's had spiked, and an overall state of delirium had set in.
you stood in tony's lab with peter, mindlessly scrolling through files on your dad's computer as peter tinkered with his suit. you looked over to him as he let out a sharp curse, hands shaking as he held a needle and thread with pricked fingers.
he looked awful, in the kindest way possible, and you could only imagine that you looked worse. a thin layer of sweat covered peter's shaking body, skin lifeless and without a tinge of color, except for under his sunken eyes. even his hair had lost all vitality; his normally curly locks had gone flat and stuck damply to his forehead.
the words on the screen in front of you grew blurry and jumbled, and suddenly, the urge to get to the nearest bathroom took over your body like a primal need you had no control over. you stood from your stool too quickly, though, knees immediately buckling and sending you falling to the floor.
peter caught you at the last second, his arms firmly around your waist as he stared at you with wide eyes, panting from the panic that had overtaken his chest.
you stared at him for a moment as he didn't let you go, thankful your fever was hiding the flush on your cheeks as his hands burned holes in your sides. but the butterflies were soon squashed with guilt as you saw the concern in his eyes, and you knew this had gone on long enough.
with a heavy sigh and bruised ego, you finally looked at him with all energy to fight lost. "i think it's time to get some help."
peter had you wrapped around his waist, and you were swung down to the med bay before your vertigo even had time to set in.
the next few hours had been excruciatingly long. you'd been separated from peter and taken for testing. but, after far too many needles and an insane amount of imaging, you were back to a room that was conveniently shared with peter.
and he looked just as worn down as you felt.
the nurse helped you into your bed and checked in with peter before leaving the two of you alone to rest.
you heard a soft chuckle coming from a few feet to your right, "well, don't you look like shit."
"as if you look any better-" your voice cracked, and you grimaced, raw throat knocking you down to a whisper. "parker."
peter gave you a sympathetic smile before tossing you a cough drop.
the evening dragged on with quick remarks and soft groans filling the sterile room until a knock on the door quieted your conversations.
"everyone decent in there?" you heard your dad through the door as it slowly creaked open.
in popped tony and steve, concern adorning their features as they took both of your frail figures in.
"guess not," steve gave with a chuckle. "how you kids feeling?"
you gave him a pout and a shrug as peter struggled to sit up further. "i think i recovered quicker from being hit by that train in germany. what's in the bag, mr. stark?"
your eyes drifted to tony, who held a paper bag in his hands.
"soup's on! wanda was worried about you, i guess. not sure why, you've never looked better." he tossed you a soft wink. "bug boy bothering you yet? i can have him moved to solitary confinement, you know. not sure what this whole... arrangement here is."
you rolled your eyes at him, holding your arms out for the bag he was holding. you hadn't been able to keep food down in days, and the mere thought of homemade soup right now? magic or not, you were positive that anything made from wanda would heal you instantly.
tony passed out dinner to both of you while steve went over what you'd missed from the mission briefing earlier that day. you struggled to get the lid off your soup container, muscles feeling weaker than ever. peter, however, was far too out of it to remember his own strength.
immediately on opening the lid, his stomach was covered in steaming dumpling soup.
"holy fuck! oh my fucking god, fuck, what the actual fuck—"
"peter! language!" steve scolds, wide-eyed from the string of curse words leaving the teenager's mouth like a sailor. both starks, however, found the entire thing hilarious.
you ate your dinner, thankful at the warmth spreading throughout your core. peter was less thankful about the warmth on his core, embarrassed as steve helped him change into a new shirt through the mess of IVs and wires. you looked over as the clothing was slipped over, noticing how his tight chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, and you blamed your fever for how hot the visual made you.
after getting resituated, the men made their goodbyes and left you alone to rest and finish your dinner, though, not before tony came back in with a makeshift bib for peter (and took a picture against heavy protest). the rest of the evening was calm, both of you growing tired after a warm meal and the dim lighting of the room, now only illuminated by the soft glow of Seinfeld reruns on the TV.
it didn't take long for you to drift off, as you didn't have the strength in you to be stubborn anymore. peter, unfortunately, was not as lucky. he laid there for another two hours, awake and alone in his battle against his nausea and sore throat.
fortunately for you, however, he was awake to notice as you started to shiver in your sleep. peter heard the soft shaking of your sheets and looked over to you, his heart feeling heavy as he took note of just how violently you were shaking under three blankets. he heard the shift in your breathing, signaling you were beginning to wake from your chills, and the chattering of your teeth drowned him in a guilt that overrode his better judgment.
peter moved to sit up, swinging his feet over the bed and cursing quietly as he snagged his IV tubing. he took hold of the pole connected and rose to his feet, using all his strength to shuffle his way over to your bed. each movement he made was hesitant, unsure if he was making a move that would cross a line. but you were miserable, and he couldn't stand to see it anymore.
he made it to your bedside, head hanging low and voice wavering, "i'm only doing this because it's medically necessary."
peter slowly began to sit down next to you, soft groans escaping his lips as he lowered himself. you took the hint and rolled your eyes, though not before scooting over to make room for him. he wormed his way under your pile of blankets, doing his best to wrap his arm around you and pull you close to his chest without snagging either of your cords.
you hated to admit it to yourself, but you instantly felt warmer.
and you hated that peter could also tell, because you stopped shivering nearly on impact.
you could feel him smirk against your head as he snuggled into you, a soft, "i'm that good, huh?" falling on your ear.
you nudged him in the side, earning a low groan in response. "whatever, keep it in your pants, perv."
peter made a comment in retaliation, but as you felt his weight and warmth against you, you could feel your consciousness slipping again. everything about being in his arms made you feel safe and the best you'd felt this whole week. you could hear that peter was following suit, his quiet breath in your ear mellowing to a steady rhythm as he felt himself relax for the first time that day.
just as he was almost out cold, and definitely delirious from the fever, he leaned forward to just slightly press a warm kiss to your frigid ear. "i really am glad you're feeling better, you know. thank you for letting me get you some help."
you gave him a smile he couldn't see, but hoped he could sense in the way your heart skipped a beat. you felt around for his hand on your stomach, giving it a tight squeeze. as you opened your mouth to thank him in return, though, you felt the coming of a series of sneezes.
"pete, do you think you can grab me some tissues from my tray?"
he nodded against you, barely conscious as he pointed his wrist toward the bedside table and aimed for the tissue box. you heard a soft thwip! and he pulled to retrieve it, smacking you directly in the face.
Summary: Peter Parker x fe!Reader -> You have had feelings for Peter for...a long time. But, when you try to deny them, Peter begins to question what has changed between you both.
Disclaimer: Angsty fluff, friends to lovers, deny feelings, Kate and Yelena being the best roommates, Yelena has adopted Reader as a sister (and sticks up for her like one), yearning, she falls first, he falls harder. Peter crawls through her window, twice. Fluff, light swearing, not fully proof read.
“You’ve been moping around all day,” Yelena announced as she entered your room.
“No- I have not been moping.”
You tried your best to deny it, but if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t stopped moping since you stole one of Kate’s purple sweatshirts, changed your contacts for your glasses and perched yourself on the cream coloured desk chair in the corner of your room and opened up your laptop.
The entire doc had been empty for forty minutes.
Yelena sighed as she collapsed onto your bed just behind you, pulling one of your throw pillows to her chest.
“So, tell Auntie Yelena what happened?”
“Nothing happened. There’s nothing to tell. Absolutely nothing.”
“Okay, but,” Yelena began. “When you say it like that, it just tells me that you do have something to tell so…spill. What happened between you and Spider-Boy?”
You shook your head. “Nothing.”
“Y/n.”
“I’m not lying this time,” you told her. “Literally…nothing. I just…I don’t even know.”
Shutting your laptop, you moved towards your bed before scooting in beside her. She handed you your own pillow to hold.
“You know, sometimes it’s them. They’re never any good at finding things, men. Like, ever. You know I had to help Bob find his Ferris Buller DVD when it was, like, right there, in front of his face.”
You hummed. “Maybe, but…I think I’m just being an idiot.”
“A love sick idiot.”
You hit her on the arm, but she simply exclaimed, “What?! You know I’m right.”
“I know. But I don’t like it when you’re right.”
“Pshhh,” Yelena sounded. “You love it when I’m right and since I’m right all the time, it just means you love me all the time.”
“Shut up.”
“See, I’m right.”
“Yelena.”
“Okay, okay. Okay, fine. Besides the fact that I know I’m right, what else?”
You let out a heavy sigh as you slumped into your bed. “I don’t know.”
“Hey!” Kate’s voice called out as she knocked twice on the door before opening it. “I’m ordering pizza, anyone want- is that my sweatshirt?”
You looked down at yourself. “No.”
Kate just hummed. “I’m ordering pizza, want anything?”
Yelena nodded, “Oh, yes.”, before rattling off her order and then yours.
“How do you-”
“Because I’m always right.”
“What’s up with her?” Kate asked Yelena, in reference to you.
“Spider-Boy is still an idiot.”
“Ooh, I’ll get the drinks then, too.”
Kate disappeared and reappeared ten minutes later with three chilled beers and the information that the pizza guy was ten minutes out.
“So, what’s happened?”
“Besides she’s an idiot?”
You hit Yelena again before looking at Kate. “I saw him in the library today. I think he was on a date.”
“Well, who was the girl?” Kate asked.
“Stacey…someone. I don’t know. I’ve seen her around campus a couple times. And she’s gorgeous. Seriously.”
“So are you!” Kate exclaimed.
“Yeah!” Yelena agreed.
“But it’s more than that,” you added. “She’s smart-”
“So are you.”
“And she’s exactly his type-”
“So are you.”
“And she can definitely afford to wash her clothes every day rather than doing two loads a week at three in the morning because it’s the only time the stupid washer doesn’t crap out.”
Yelena and Kate fell silent. “Okay, maybe not that.”
“You only do laundry twice a week?” Yelena asked, but Kate simply gave her a look.
“But everything else,” Kate assured you. “Peter likes.”
“Not that you should change anything about you,” Yelena added. “Because…no. Never change. We love you as you are, and so should he.”
You could have cried. “Thanks, guys.”
“But is there anything we can do to help?”
You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well…”
Both yourself and Kate looked at Yelena.
“And, again, never change. But…” Yelena looked over your head. “You could, maybe, run a brush through your hair once in a while. It does kinda look like a birdsnest right now.”
“Yelena!”
Kate grimaced. “She is right.”
“Kate!”
Pulling your hair from the worn out bobble, you let the mess fall around your face and down your back.
“And maybe get a new hair-tie,” Yelena told you before looking at her wrist. “Here. Use this one.”
Taking it from her, you pulled your hair back into a messy knot at the back of your head.
“Besides Peter, how’s the doctorate going?”
You’d been doing Ph.D for the last three years. You were three months from your final deadline…ever. It had also been on your course that you had met Peter. As a part of your doctorate, you had to take on a couple of classes as a TA and in doing so, you shared an office with the other TA’s and a desk with Peter.
It wasn’t until after six months you both realised you worked in the same building outside of your classes. Although Peter was a part of the Avengers Initiative, you were a part of Shield’s. Which had been where you’d met Kate.
What had been a ten minute conversation quickly turned into a long lasting friendship to the point where you’d become the person to take over Yelena and Kate’s extra room.
“Almost finished. I just…needed a break today and…”
“Then you saw Stacey.”
“She’s so good for him,” you sighed. “I can’t even be mad about it.”
A moment later, the buzzer went off to the door.
“That’ll be the pizzas. Hold that thought.”
It wasn’t hard to do. You’d been holding it for close to three years.
Stacey and Peter ended up dating for six weeks. Six excruciating long weeks where you had to watch with a smile as they moved around you, too happy to even be considered the ‘honeymoon’ couple.
Two weeks after that, you sat in the library finishing up the last of your thesis. Barely anyone was in the library since it was two in the morning and also a weekend.
“Mind if I sit here?”
You looked up to find Peter, still handsome and as charming as ever, standing in front of your desk.
“Not at all,” you answered, if only to watch him smile a little tiredly before pulling out his chair. “What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get some work done.”
You nodded. “With what laptop?”
Peter looked around him.
“Shit. Guess I’ll read then.”
What Peter didn’t want to admit was that he’d been out on patrol since eight in the evening and had swung past the library six times, if just to catch a glimpse of you. And once the clock struck one, he started to get worried.
You had a tendency to just keep working.
“Is that your thesis?”
You nodded and paused typing for a moment. “Yeah. Just the last couple hundred words then I can copy the reference list over.”
Peter smiled, “Cool.”
You gave him a short smile back before turning back to your work. The next hour of your life felt like the longest since…since the last time you’d seen Peter.
He stayed sitting across from you the entire time, reading. Every once in a while, you could feel his eyes on you and you’d look up. He’d smile and then turn back to his book like he hadn’t just given you a mini panic attack.
“I’ll walk you home,” Peter told you as he watched you say goodnight to him and walk away.
Placing the book back in a random place, he grabbed his jacket and jogged up to you. Inside, your heart was hammering against your chest. But, somehow, between the busy streets of bachelor parties, and the night skyline of the city, your nerves calmed.
Even when Peter pulled you into his side and held onto your hand so tight you were almost certain you’d still feel his hand around yours a week later.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you told him as you got outside of your apartment door. “I feel kinda bad, though. Who’s gonna walk you home?”
Peter shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. Just…get some sleep.”
You smiled briefly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Goodnight, Peter.”
From the top of the stairs, Peter smiled. “Goodnight, Y/n.”
The moment you locked the door and turned around, a lamp flicked on.
“Hello.”
You let out a quiet yelp. “Yelena.”
She chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to do that. So,” her personality changed from Bond Villain to excited roommate. “Who was that?”
“Peter. He walked me home.”
“Ooh, is this progress?”
You shook your head. “I doubt it.”
She flicked you on the back of the head. “You need to stop thinking like that.”
You shrugged. “It just…it wasn’t anything. He walked me home. But, I did finish my thesis, by the way.”
Down the hall, a door clicked open before Kate stuck her head out of the gap, squinting her eyes at the light. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Kate. Go back to sleep.”
“Peter walked her home,” Yelena told her.
Kate opened her door wider and stepped out. “What?”
You looked at Yelena, “It wasn’t anything. He walked me home, we said goodnight. That was it.”
“Well, what did-” Kate yawned. “What did you talk about on the way home?”
“We didn’t have much time.”
Yelena’s eyes went wide but you quickly shook your head. “Apparently every groom decided that tonight would be his bachelor night. There wasn’t much time to talk aside from, “Watch out, puke.”.”
Yelena huffed. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Despite the night of nothing, it continued to play on your mind for another six weeks until you saw Peter again. And it wasn’t in the way you thought.
You’d been asleep on the sofa since six in the evening when you’d got back from work. Your thesis had been handed in two weeks ago, and, aside from work, you’d taken the time to rest.
Which, mostly, was to sleep.
Until one night a constant tapping at the fire-escape window woke you up.
At first, you figured it might have been a bout of hail from a storm that hadn’t been predicted on the news. Only, as you turned over, you felt your jeans relax away from your stomach the same way a new bra would. Then you groaned.
You’d fallen asleep in your clothes.
But the tapping continued.
Until you finally woke up and lifted your head from the sofa cushion to look at the window.
“Peter?”
Were you dreaming?
Looking down at your wrist, you tried to make out the time. Maybe a little after midnight.
Pulling the blanket from your body, you tiredly shuffled across the wooden floor to the window. It took a few tries, but you finally managed to unjam the window and let him in.
“What are you doing?” You asked him.
“Is Kate or Yelena here?”
You shook your head. “No. Last I checked, they’re on their way to Austrailia…or Asia…someplace beginning with A. Why- Holy shit, you’re bleeding.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Peter managed to get out as he stood to his feet. But the moment he wobbled, you reached out to steady him.
“Okay, you need a hospital.”
“No,” he shook his head. “No hospital. And no Shield, before you say.”
You let out a small grunt. “Fine. But…would you let me patch you up?”
Peter looked down to you as you tried to steady him. And with a heavy breath, he finally nodded.
“Great, come on.”
Leading him across the room, you helped him into the bathroom before sitting him down on the edge of the tub.
“What happened?”
“Nothing major.”
“Nothing major, he says, as he’s bleeding in my bathroom,” you said, mostly to yourself as you rummaged for the first aid kit Kate had put together.
Finally finding it, you lifted it up and turned back to Peter, only to stall for a moment. Somehow he’d managed to remove his jacket and shirt in the time it took you to find the first aid kit.
He was built like every fictional character you’d ever read about.
Holy fuck.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Nothing,” you kicked yourself into gear again, kneeling on the floor so you were closer to the deepest wound that had scared his side. “Don’t you usually have a sense to avoid this happening?”
Peter hissed as you started to clean the wound. “Usually. But…there was a lot going on.”
“Do you want to tell me about it? Or do I have to wait for Monday’s report?”
Peter chuckled, but quickly hissed again when you cleaned the wound some more. “It wasn’t anything major. Just some idiots thinking they could break into a record store.”
“A record store?”
“Apparently there’s a vintage shipment coming in, or…came in, I guess.” Peter continued to explain as you cleaned his wound and patched it up as best as you could, knowing his body and abilities would take care of the rest.
However, you took a break when Peter huddled forward, gripping onto your shoulder in a shock of pain.
“I’ll get you some painkillers,” you told him, quietly.
Turning his head a little, he was barely an inch from you. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
You shook your head. “Behind the abilities, you’re still human, Peter.”
Fifteen minutes, you were out of the bathroom and keeping a close eye on Peter as he sat down on the sofa, still in agony a little.
“Here,” you told him, holding out a mug of tea. “It’s not, like, an ancient brew or anything, but…it can’t hurt.”
“Thank you.”
Peter watched as you stepped over his legs with your own mug before you sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“You should get some sleep,” you told him. “It might help with the healing.”
Peter nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Peter-”
“Have you been avoiding me?”
You looked at him, a little stunned.
“What?”
“You avoid me in every hallway at work, I don’t see you at the library anyone. I know you’ve finished your thesis, but I had to find that out from Kate. You were meant to be on my training programme last week, then suddenly the servers get hacked and you’ve been switched to Natasha’s team…” Peter listed. “Are you avoiding me? Did I…have I done something?”
The look in his eyes was killing you. So, you shook your head.
“N-no.” You looked at the swirling drink in your mug. “I’ve not-”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
You sighed, closing your eyes. “Peter, it’s more than I can even put into words. But it’s not you.”
“But it’s got something to do with me, right?”
You just stared at him.
“Because if it didn’t, you wouldn’t have made eye-contact with me in an empty hallway and then ducked into a janitor's closet.”
“I wasn’t aware you saw that,” you admitted, a little embarrassed.
“I see everything you do,” Peter told you, almost like a confession. “I always have.”
“Peter, you don’t-”
“Don’t what?” He sat up, laying his mug on the table. “Don’t have to worry? Because I am-”
“Peter!” You cut him off. “Please. Just…trust me on this, it’s not you. It’s me, okay? It’s…it’s for my own peace of mind.”
Laying your own mug on the table, you stood. “You should get some sleep. I’ll grab some extra sheets.”
“What do you mean ‘peace of mind’?”
You tried to ignore the fact Peter was swiftly following you down the hallway and towards the linen closet.
“Nothing, just- forget I said anything and get some sleep. You know how to make your own bed, right?”
Peter nodded, catching the sheets you laid in his arms.
“Goodnight, Peter.”
“Y/n-”
“I said goodnight!”
The last sound he heard was the deafening click of your bedroom door as you shut it behind you.
“What the fuck am I doing?” You whispered to yourself once you were finally alone.
Somewhere between the worry about Peter and whatever fight had just occurred outside your bedroom door, you laid back from the edge of your bed and fell asleep, once more in your clothes.
“I made breakfast.”
When you’d woken up, still in your clothes from the day before, and heard nothing coming from the living room, you figured Peter was either still asleep or had left in the middle of the night. But, no.
He’d made breakfast, instead.
“I thought you might have left.”
Peter shook his head, pouring another mug of hot coffee. “Not yet. I still want to know why-”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“Then talk to me,” Peter offered. “Please?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Peter.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Thank you for the coffee, but there isn’t anything to talk about.”
Peter looked you over. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Peter tried his best to believe your lie for as long as he could. But the more you started to avoid him, and the more you buried yourself into your work, the more he started to wonder why.
Why were you avoiding him? Had he really done something? You’d been friends, right? Maybe he grew a little distant with you in the last couple of months, but…that couldn’t have been it, right?
“Do you know why Y/n is avoiding me?” Peter asked as he caught up to Kate in the hallway.
She was, somehow, a worse liar than you. “Uh, no. No, why?”
“Kate.”
To her credit, Kate tried really hard not to break. But there was something about Peter that broke a part of her when she thought about lying to him.
“Look, it’s-” Kate looked everywhere in the hallway for help. Maybe Clint was still in the vents?
“It’s not my story to tell, just…be gentle with her, okay?”
Peter didn’t quite know what to do with that information, but he nodded anyway as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder.
“Always.”
Kate smiled a little but very quickly changed the subject onto a work problem she was having. But the information still played on Peter’s mind. And continued to do so until finally, one late evening when he’d worked over-time, he found you in your office.
“What are you still doing here?”
From behind your monitors, you looked up to find Peter standing in your office doorway before he walked inside. The building was mostly shut down and you both should have gone home hours ago.
“Yelena’s on a mission and Kate is, maybe, having a date stay over.” You told him. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”
“Want some company?”
In your tiredness, you managed to smile. “Love some.”
For the first time in months, it was like how it used to be between you both. Light conversation that didn’t send you into a complete and utter spin, quiet laughter and eventually comfortable silence that you didn’t have to worry over.
“Why don’t you come to mine? I’ve got a spare room and I’m pretty sure Kate left some pajamas at mine the last time she broke in.”
You sighed as you stood from your chair. “I told her she needs to stop doing that.”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t mind it. Mostly, she just uses my freezer to store extra pizza’s for Pizza Dog breakfast.”
You chuckled. “Of course she does.”
Like it was the most natural thing in the world, Peter took your hand in his after he’d helped you put your coat on and he led you down to the parking garage. Holding your door open for you, he closed it behind you and drove you in the direction of his apartment.
Just under forty minutes later, you were dressed in Kate’s pajamas which, funnily enough, consisted of your old undergrad sweatshirt and plain pajama bottoms you were pretty sure had been Clint’s at some point.
“I, uh, I washed the sheets last week and no-one has been in there so, they should be okay.” Peter told you as he stood by your bedroom door. “So…night, I guess.”
You smiled at him. “Night.”
With the awkward nod he gave you that you’d fallen for a few years ago, you watched him walk away and down the hallway to his room before he took one last glance at you and closed his door.
With his head against his door, he waited and listened to hear your door click, and once it did, he let out a long breath.
However, what peace he had over you finally talking to him again was swiftly disappearing when he woke in the morning to find a note from you, the pajamas left in a neat pile at the end of your made bed.
He didn’t see you, or hear from you, until later that evening when he got a grouped text from Yelena saying she was holding a movie night at the tower and everyone was to come.
Even then, you still tried to avoid him.
And for a while, it worked.
Until he’d had enough.
“In here,” Peter grabbed your arm when he finally found you on your own in the kitchen, popping the top of a beer bottle.
“Peter- What are you-”
The pantry door clicked shut behind Peter as he spun you both until he was the one blocking the exit. “Peter!”
“No,” Peter told you, pulling on the cord for the light so you could see him clearly. “No. We’re having this conversation. You’re avoiding me and I want to know why.”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Although Peter didn’t know it, this time you hadn’t been avoiding him. Not intentionally, anyway. But first Kate needed help with her new string for her bow, then Yelena almost burnt the pizzas, then Scott was catching you up about everything Cassie was doing at college.
“Y/n, please,” Peter begged. “Please just tell me what I did. Because I’ve been racking my head for weeks and I can’t…I can’t think of what I’ve done. But please, if I have, I haven’t meant to hurt you-”
“I like you!” You yelled, a little frustrated, a little scared. “I like you, okay?! And I know it’s not the adult thing to avoid you but…seriously, Pete, you’re everywhere I go. And if you’re not, you’re still…there, in my mind. And while it feels nice to have, do you know how frustrating it is to know you’re falling for one of your friends but nothing is ever going to happen?!”
For the first time in months, it felt like you were able to breathe again.
“I was hoping if I managed to avoid you enough, the feelings would go away. Some silly work-crush that was being fueled by the main fact I saw you everyday.”
“And did it?”
You looked at him, puzzled. “Did…did it? Did it what?”
It was Peter’s turn to be frustrated. “Did it go away?”
“I don’t know.”
Both yourself and Peter knew it was a lie.
You sighed, “No. I just…I am sorry, Peter. And, I promise, I am trying my hardest to get rid of it-”
“Why?”
You laughed, “Why?”
He was deadly serious, crossing his arms across his chest. “Yes. Why?”
You couldn’t look at him. “Because…”
“Do you not want to like me?”
You scoffed, “No, Pete- look, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Then explain it to me. Surely someone as smart as you should be able to find the words.”
“Fuck you.”
“Very eloquent."
“Peter-”
He moved the same direction you did, blocking your exit. “I told you, we’re having this conversation. Why do you want to get rid of it?”
“Because…because of multiple reasons.” You finally gave in.
“Like?”
“Like…” You racked your brain to try and get it into order. “Like the fact we’re friends, and I like that more than I like the idea of you hating me for this. Like the fact we work together. Like the fact I’m not your type and I’m only causing myself more pain holding out hope. Like it’s wrong; see list above.”
“Do you have reasons why it might be wrong to get rid of it?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Well…what reasons do you have?”
Peter shrugged. “That you’re wrong about not being my type.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes a little. Unbelieveable. “Peter.”
“I’m being serious.”
You shook your head. “No, I’m not. And that’s fine. I’ll get over it. I’ve got my girls. Look, you don’t have to feel sorry for me and worry that, pff, I’m gonna, like, I don’t know, end my life in some Shakespearean Tragedy-”
Your next monologue was cut off when Peter moved forward and your brain eventually registered that he was kissing you.
Your jaw cupped in his hands, the kiss ended but you kept your eyes closed. The room was spinning as you lowered yourself onto your feet.
“You are my type. In every way.”
Rolling your lips together, you savoured the kiss. “You’re just saying that.”
“What would it take for you to believe me?”
Your heart was hammering in your chest again. “Peter…” God, this was killing you. “Sooner or later, you’ll realise I’m not and we’ll still lose each other.”
Peter shook his head. “No. No, we won’t-”
You found enough courage to look at him. “Yes, we will.”
Looking to the floor, you ran your hand over Peter’s chest. His hand paused yours over his heart.
“I’ll find a way to prove it to you,” he whispered in the yellow light of the pantry.
But you merely held back a sob and tears. “Goodbye, Peter.”
Finally finding your exit, you rushed past whoever was standing by the kitchen sink and walked as far as your legs could carry you. Turns out, they could carry you down three flights of stairs towards the employee bathrooms far, far, far away from the kitchen pantry.
Meanwhile, Peter waited a few seconds before leaving himself, only to be greeted with an odd look from Hope.
“Do I want to know what-”
“I need your help.”
Turning her hip, Hope looked at his face before nodding. “Sure, kid. What is it?”
Less than forty eight hours later, Peter was being tossed onto a training mat by Yelena.
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I’m guessing she told you?”
Yelena shook her head. “She didn’t have to! What the hell did you do?”
“So she…hasn’t…told you?”
Peter ducked from the flying spear that barely missed him. Though, he did catch it. “Yelena-”
“Ah! No, no! You don’t get to use my name. Kate told you to be gentle! And now she won’t even come out of her room!”
Peter stalled. “What?”
Yelena shrugged. “That might be an exaggeration. But, still. She’s not herself. She gets up, she goes to work, she comes home, she’s way too quiet for my liking. And all because of you!”
Yelena threw another spear. And once Peter was in range, she dived on him, tackling him to the floor. Though he did have the advantage, the moment he was locked above her, she hit him as hard as she could in the ribs.
“And I know that that thought hurts more than most, because she’s moping over a guy.” Yelena added as Peter rolled onto his back, holding his side in pain.
“She’s a freaking doctor! And, although she is changing the world, she’s worried over some stupid, idiot, moron-”
“I think I get it,” Peter told her as he watched her rant as she walked away.
“No. I’m not done.” Yelena said. “Daft, foolish, brainless, stupid-”
“You said that one already,” Peter slowly crawled onto his front before sitting back on his calves.
“Man-boy.” Yelena added. “I like you, Peter. I really do. But she is one of my sisters now, and you don’t get away with hurting her.”
Peter nodded. “I know. And I am sorry. But I meant every word I said to her.”
Yelena crouched in front of him. “What did you say?”
“That she is my type. In every way. And that, I don’t know what it will take to prove it to her, but I will find a way.”
Yelena was silent for a long time before she finally stood up. “Shit! Do you really like her?”
Peter nodded. “I have done. For a long time.”
“You’re both idiots.”
“You’ve already mentioned that.”
“Fine, I’ll help.” Yelena said.
“I-I didn’t-” Peter shook his head. “I’ve already asked Hope.”
“Then you get both of us. Come on, Spider-Boy, get a shower. You’re sweaty and you smell.”
Finally catching his breath, Peter stood and followed Yelena out of the gym. “Yeah, okay.”
A full week after the Pantry Incident, you were huddled in your bedroom.
In all of the stress, you’d decided to re-paint, re-arrange and re-organise everything in your room. And, after the biggest Everything Shower of your life, you were laying on your bed in fresh pajamas, staring at your ceiling.
For a while, you tried to fall asleep. Listening to the rain hit your window helped calm your nerves, but still sleep wouldn’t help drown you out from the world.
As the city turned closer to its night life and your apartment became silent since both Kate and Yelena were out on missions, you started to hear more tapping. And through bleary eyes, you reached for your glasses before finding where the tapping was coming from.
“Peter?”
“Can you open the window? I’m, like, thirty seconds from falling down the drainpipe.”
Jumping up with the realisation the rain was growing heavier outside, you hurried over to your window and pushed it up to let him in.
“Let me get you a towel,” you told him as he was half way through your window.
You returned twenty seconds later with a fresh towel from the radiator and handed it over to him.
“What were you doing out there?”
“Oh, you know,” Peter covered his head with the towel and rubbed the water from his hair. “Figured it was a nice night for a swim.”
You looked his clothes over. “I think Yelena still has some of Natasha’s clothes here. They consist of, well, everyone’s really. I’m sure there’s some of Steve’s things or something. Just, give me a second.”
Rushing down the corridor and towards the linen closet, you rummaged for a box until you finally found it. It took five minutes, but you eventually found some items that you’d hope would fit him.
“You can use the bathroom. Throw your clothes out here and I’ll put them in the dryer.”
“You have a dryer?”
You nodded. “Yeah. The building finally got maintenance done so we were able to get two working machines in here.”
Peter smiled. “Sounds great.”
Once Peter’s clothes were outside of the bathroom door, you picked them up and threw them into the dryer. When he finally emerged, you tried to keep your breath steady.
“Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Can…do you want some tea or something? Kate and Yelena are on missions but, you know, sometimes they finish early and-”
“I didn’t come here to see them. And tea would be nice, thank you.”
You nodded, a little awkwardly, and turned towards the kitchen. But the moment you did, you slightly regretted it because Peter blocked your only exit by leaning and bracing himself against the doorframe.
“So…why are you here?” You asked, forcing everything in you to keep moving around your kitchen rather than looking at him.
“To see you. And to talk.”
You forced a smile at him, briefly. “You don’t have to worry about me, Peter. I’m fine.”
Pushing himself from the door, Peter slowly strode over to you before pausing right beside you. Reaching out, he flicked the kettle on to let it start boiling.
You thought you’d already done that.
“Clearly.”
Turning to look at him, you finally let the question slip from your lips. “Why are you really here, Peter? Because after last week, I thought-”
“That I’d let you go?” Peter asked. “You should know you’re worth more to me than just one fight.”
You sighed, “I’m being serious, Peter-”
“And so am I,” Peter said. “I like you, too, Y/n. And no-” Peter cut off your interruption. “Not just as my friend, and not just as my co-worker, and not just as Yelena’s sister. I like you. All of you. Even the parts of you, you think nobody likes. I like all of you, Y/n.”
All you could do was look at him.
“And the fact that you think I wouldn’t is baffling to me,” Peter admitted. “Jesus, from that moment you sat down across from me in our office, I was gone for you. Completely. I just…I didn’t know it. You can call me an idiot for it. Yelena has many, many, many times.”
You chuckled.
“I hate that it took you trying to avoid me, for me to realise that. And I will spend the rest of my life finding ways to make that up to you. Even if you never go on a date with me, even if you hate me-”
“I could never hate you.”
“My point is,” Peter smiled. “I should have noticed earlier. And…I could have handled the Pantry Incident a little better.”
You shrugged. “So could I.”
Peter nodded slowly, hoping his next sentence wouldn’t send you running out of the apartment.
“So, now that we’re on the same page…would you let me take you out on a date? Just one,” Peter clarified. “For now. We take this thing one step at a time.”
Despite the fear, you nodded. “I’d like that.”
“And…if I wanted to kiss you-”
You already beat him to it.
Leaning up, you pulled him closer to you. And just as the kettle finished boiling, Peter lifted you onto the kitchen counter before he pulled you closer to the edge by your hips.
“God, I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Peter moaned as he broke the kiss for a moment.
Smiling, you felt him cup your jaw once more and kiss you again. And again, and again, and again.
