I’m the anon who requested Peter x insomniac reader and it was so cute, actually had me giggling and kicking my feet reading it🥹
I don’t know if you do part twos but if you do could I please request a part 2 fic for when Peter and reader wake up and it’s a slow morning and they make tea and coffee together and reader teases him about his horrific bedhead, bonus points if you could include Tony’s reaction to the whole ordeal
thank you and have an amazing rest of your week💕
aah, reading these comments puts a huge smile on my face, no joke ☺️☺️☺️ I usually don't do a part 2 (unless I'm really inspired), but since I enjoyed writing this Peter fic and since I thought their relationship was super cute, and of course, your request too, I decided to do part 2. I hope you like it ~ ♡♡
Mornings Like This .｡*･ﾟﾟ
Summary: After Peter Parker walked across the compound half-asleep to cuddle you back to sleep, the next morning is all slow smiles.
You woke up to the feeling of warm breath against your shoulder.
A small shift, a lazy groan, and suddenly Peter’s arm tightened around your waist like his body remembered your warmth before his brain even turned on.
You smiled to yourself, letting your eyes flutter open.
Sunlight leaked in through the crack in the curtains. Peter was curled up behind you, his face half-buried in your pillow, lips barely parted, his curls going in every possible direction like he’d been dragged through a tornado in his sleep.
“Good morning,” you whispered, turning slightly.
“Not yet,” he mumbled, eyes still shut. “Still sleepin’. Come back in five to seven business days.”
You laughed, soft and quiet. “You snuck into my room like a sleep-deprived ninja. You don’t get to complain now.”
“I didn’t sneak,” he yawned, cracking one eye open. “I was summoned. By the voice of your AI overlord.”
Peter shifted, stretching his long limbs in all directions before flopping back against the pillow dramatically. “What time is it?”
You squinted at the clock. “Almost 9.”
Peter blinked. “In the morning?!”
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Parker. 9 in the morning, don't tell me you're scared because you slept with me. Come on... You’ve seen worse.”
“I haven’t seen anything worse than your dad at 9AM before caffeine.”
That made you laugh harder. “Fair.”
Peter finally sat up, rubbing his face, hair sticking up like he’d just electrocuted himself. He yawned so wide it made you yawn. And then—
“Damn.” You grinned, fully sitting up now. “What happened to your hair?”
You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera to selfie mode, holding it up. “See for yourself.”
Peter blinked at the screen, then let out a very genuine, very tragic sound. “Is it… worse than usual?”
“Worse? Peter, I think your bedhead achieved sentience.”
He ran a hand through it, only making it worse somehow. “Great. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear from my girlfriend.”
“Want me to help tame the beast?” you teased, crawling closer.
“Only if you promise not to post pictures.”
He gave you a fake glare that melted as soon as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re lucky I like you.”
You grinned. “You love me.”
“…Yeah,” he admitted, voice softer now. “I really do.”
Your stomach fluttered, and before things could get any more sappy, you tugged him up by the hand. “Come on. It’s coffee time.”
The kitchen was warm with morning light by the time you shuffled in, still in your sleep clothes. Peter headed straight for the mugs while you filled the kettle, the two of you moving in practiced rhythm despite the fact you were still barely awake.
“Cream or sugar?” Peter asked, already pulling out the honey for your tea.
“Hot chocolate. And... judgment for your hair.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but kissed the side of your head anyway.
You were just settling onto the barstools when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.
Tony Stark stood at the entrance of the kitchen, holding a cup of espresso, dressed like he’d been awake for hours — even though the look on his face screamed 'I’ve seen things I wish I could unsee.'
Specifically, his daughter cuddling Peter Parker like they were married and retired and had just discussed matching pajamas.
Tony took a long sip of his coffee. Then:
Peter froze mid-sip of his coffee. “Yes, sir?”
“You doing the walk of shame through my compound at two a.m. last night—was that a plan or more of an impulse?”
Peter turned bright red. “I—uh—it was strictly comfort-based, sir. No funny business.”
Tony raised one brow. “Define ‘funny business.’”
“Dad,” you groaned. “Nothing happened.”
Tony sipped again. “Oh, I know. I had FRIDAY watching the whole time.”
Peter looked like he might pass out. “You were watching?!”
Tony smirked. “Had to make sure my daughter’s honor was preserved, also to make sure that you wouldn't let me become a grandfather so soon. And wanted to see how long you’d last before drooling in your sleep. For the record — eight minutes.”
You slapped your forehead. “I hate you.”
“No, you love me. I’m adorable.” He turned to Peter. “You? Still on thin ice. But I suppose the fact that you didn’t try anything earns you a few brownie points.”
Peter looked ready to combust. “Thank you…?”
Tony started walking off, waving his mug. “I’m not saying I approve… but I’ll hold off on the disintegration rays. For now.”
Once he was gone, Peter slumped against the counter, eyes wide. “I think I aged three years just now.”
You sipped your hot chocolate, smirking. “Still think you’re my ‘certified cuddle provider?’”
Peter gave you a sideways look. “Only if I live long enough to see next week.”
You leaned in, kissed his cheek again. “I’ll protect you.”
Peter blinked. “From your dad?”
You grinned. “Yes, and any enemy who tries to hurt this beautiful face of my boyfriend.”
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