thatgeekyemo

[thatgeekyemo]

Hope Dangles On A String

peter parker x reader | 3.3k

summery: "So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?" You can't have heard that right. Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

prompt 5: "Could you hold my hand?", requested by iloveyou3000 on Wattpad

note: I wanna see who gets some references I made. Some are more tricky than the others. (Hint: I've already made one)Also, this was written before NWH came out :)

The library had become one of your favorite places since you came back. It was quiet, filled with knowledge, and always air conditioned.

The library at Midtown School of Science and Technology in particular was a place you spent most of your free time in nowadays. You always got to the school early in the morning and always stayed hours after the school day was over. Ever since The Blip, it had become your second home; it was the most familiar place you could go to. A place where you could re-adjust to the world you grew up in and catch up on the five years of history you missed.

Currently, there weren't many people in the library with you, since school wasn't set to start for another month. But the administration always left the doors open for the book club and Decathlon team. You weren't in either, but as long as you still followed the rules, you were always welcome.

The library was a safe place. No one ever bothered you, and you could always get what you wanted to get done done.

You were friends with the librarian. You even helped out every once in a while. Being surrounded by so much information and stories helped you feel at ease. Helped you feel like you weren't the only person with the loss of them. Like you weren't the only one out of the loop.

With a book open in front of you--about how the world dealt and built itself back up after half its population suddenly disappearing--you tried your hardest to understand how the world functioned when you were gone, having been one of the people that disappeared.

It was a hard thing to wrap your mind around, believing that you had been gone five whole years. Everything just seemed like a blink to you. One second, you were scared for your life, wondering if Iron Man and Spider-Man were ever going to come back from following that alien spaceship into the sky. The next, you found yourself on the floor in a bedroom that wasn't yours, but at the same time was. One second, you had been sitting in dead silence, the next, the air was filled with the ear splitting yell of a young girl, screaming at you like you were an intruder in your own home.

You were.

In what felt like a blink, an entire five years had passed on Earth. Had passed everywhere. People grieved. Then people moved on with their lives.

You, among hundreds of thousands of other people, had to find new homes. New jobs. It was hard to believe that you were thrust five years and two months into the future, when just a second ago, you had been in 2018.

But of course, you knew the entire world couldn't be playing a giant trick. That against all probability, it had actually happened. You had to believe it whether you wanted to or not. This was your life now.

Just as you were getting settled, some boxes in your new room still unpacked, your parents urged you to go on your science class' summer field trip. They, as well as you, had thought that maybe it could help you unwind from the stress of living in a familiar but unfamiliar world.

Instead, Mysterio and the Elementals had happened, and what was supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation turned into looking over your shoulder to make sure another danger wasn't creeping up out of thin air every waking moment.

You had broken down in the airport once it was all over. Once everyone was safe. It was all too much. You didn't understand how people could live their lives like it was normal. How they weren't affected like you were. Too many life changing and endangering events had happened in rapid succession and it was too much for you.

It was Peter who held you then like he always had. It was Peter who pulled you from your spiraling state by making you focus on his voice. It was Peter who held your hand and wouldn't let go until you were okay enough to pull away.

You could always count on him to get you out of a tough place and stick by your side for the entirety of it all. And he didn't ask for anything out of it. Just that you would do the same.

That was a promise you had made to him years ago.

There were two other people in the library with you, not including the librarian, who was in the back room. You took note of them the second they walked in. You didn't know their names, so you figured might have been kids that survived. It was easier for you to keep an eye on everything around you. It made you feel better. The two teens had identical books of their own open in front of them, so you had initially assumed they were in the school's book club. But as the time passed, they disregarded reading and resorted to their phones. It didn't matter to you what they were doing. As long as it didn't break your concentration, they could talk quietly and laugh amongst themselves all they wanted. You didn't bother them, they didn't bother you.

So when you caught them staring, you had tried to disregard it. You hadn't done nothing much other than read the book you had checked out. There was a list of things that made you uncomfortable, and people staring was on it. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept your own trained on the pages in your hands. You knew you hadn't looked bad when you left your house that morning--your clothes were clean, your hair was combed--yet there was something that continued to make you their point of interest. It set you on edge, how their whispering dropped so that even you couldn't hear the words in the silence of the library. You hadn't done anything wrong, so what made you so interesting?

You didn't like being the center of attention. Not more than you already were. People treated you like you were some kind of baby, since you returned. They pitied you. Saw you as someone who needed help. And while you were, you didn't need them butting in. You had your own support group. Your own ways of getting the help you needed. But no one knew. No one really cared. Not unless their 'acts of kindness' were visible for the public to see.

So why single you out now? In the seclusion of the library, where no one else was around?

You thought about leaving, just to get away from their prying eyes. You had noticed them get up and move to a table closer to yours, really not subtlety at all. But then just as you made the decision to pack up once you finished the chapter you were on, you realized that you could hear them. The reason because they moved closer or having raised their voices up for debate.

"But she's his best friend!"

"You can't seriously think she helped him do it, can you?"

"We don't have any proof she didn't!"

They seemed to be arguing. Loud enough for you to hear. Loud enough for you to figure out they were talking about you.

It made your skin crawl. The fact that you were the topic of their conversation, but you had no idea what they were talking about. The fact that they were blaming you for something. You hadn't committed a crime in your life. The closest you'd ever come was bearing witness to more than a few.

You unconsciously found yourself squeezing your fists tight enough that you felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands. Taking a deep breath, you came to the unsettling conclusion that they wouldn't stop unless you dealt with it.

For the first time, you turned your head to look at them. Taking a moment to try and further understand the situation, you watched them. They couldn't have been older than you, they looked around your age. One of two things that stood out from the picture was that the girl had dyed bright pink hair. The other was the bright red news headline that lit up her discarded phone screen.

The boy caught your eyes first, promptly shutting his mouth and a look of fear flickering on his face. His reaction made the girl stop and look over at you, her eyes narrowing instantly. Like you were some kind of suspect. And going off of what you heard them talk about, you might as well be.

Shakily, you stood up and walked over to their table, holding your arms close to your body. You opened your mouth to say something, but you hadn't really thought this through.

After a gulp, you found your voice. But you were starting to feel small under the girls stare. "Hi." You tested carefully, your voice quiet. "Do you- do you need me for something?"

Her eyes lit up like she was just given a gift. The boy just cowered in his seat, like he was ashamed. "Yes, actually!" Her voice was cheerful, but the smile on her face was fake. Her words had a sharp edge to them, and you were afraid that they were nearing to cut you. "You haven't heard the news?"

"Billie, don't." The boy whispered behind her, glancing up, but avoiding your gaze.

"Don't what?" You tried not to flinch as Billie stood up. You couldn't stop yourself from stepping back though. She was taller than you, and her proximity was too close. "What news?"

"About Spider-Man." she stated blankly like she was bored you didn't already know. She paused, and it looked like she was waiting for your reaction. "About Peter Parker."

"No?" You said slowly, confused to hear those names put together like that. You wanted to ask, but that wasn't the point. You wanted them to stop talking about you. If for some reason there was some news involving Peter and Spider-Man that he hadn't told you yet, you were sure to find out soon. And if you didn't, you could just look it up when you got home. "What does it have to do with me?"

"Billie." The boy warned again, but she just sent him a glare.

"Get your phone out."

"I don't--"

"Now!"

"Um," you started to stammer over your words, not understanding what was going on. "Excuse me? I-I don't really want to be recorded--"

"So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?"

You can't have heard that right.

Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

"Don't play dumb." She snapped, her brows furrowed in determination, making you flinch. The accusation unlike any you had ever heard. "Tell us the truth. Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?"

The words hit you like a slap to the face. They didn't sound right. They didn't feel right.

Peter wasn't Spider-Man.

Was he?

And Spider-Man definitely wasn't a murderer.

That you knew for sure.

Did you?

Peter wasn't Spider-Man. He would have told you. And you knew for a fact that Peter wouldn't kill someone. Neither would Spider-Man. And he sure as hell wouldn't have killed another hero.

But that's not what Billie was saying. She was saying that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. That Peter killed Mysterio. Killed Quentin Beck. And that you knew--no. Not knew. Helped him do it.

A hundred things were clawing at your brain, wanting to be spoken all at once. It swarmed in your head, bombarding your thoughts. It was hard, but you managed piece together a single sentence. Albeit choppy. "I don't-- I have no idea what you're talking about." You breathed out shakily.

"It's a simple question: did you, or did you not?" Billie asked again, her voice more insistent this time. The boy fumbled with his phone as she stepped forward, forcing you back.

"No!" You said as firmly as you could, tripping over your feet. If it wasn't for the table you were sitting at to catch you, you would have fallen. "I didn't even-- I didn't even know!" Why couldn't she hear the truth in your voice?

All comfort you found in the library disappeared in an instant. The silence you adored felt deafening. The calm was suffocating.

"How am I supposed to believe you? You're his best friend! Everyone knows that! You had to know something." She spouted the accusations as easily as popping a bubble. "Ryan, are you getting this on camera? Every news outlet is looking for any known associates, and we need this proof!"

"Who- who the hell do you think you are?" You could feel your own voice breaking as you continued to back away until you felt the strap of your bag hanging off the back of the chair you were sitting in. You snatched up the book you were reading and almost missed shoving it in. "I told you I don't want to be recorded! Leave- leave me alone!"

You grabbed your things and ran for the door, but the words continued to follow you.

Spider-Man killed Mysterio?

Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?

You heaved a breath, the feeling of it getting harder and harder to breathe quickly overcoming you.

You didn't understand.

What was going on?

The sunlight seemed too harsh as you nearly fell over yourself outside. You didn't stop though. Not until Billie and Ryan gave up on chasing you. Until you were far away from the library. And only then did you stop only to breath so you wouldn't collapse.

It looked like the world was frozen. Their eyes glued to the nearest screen available. Phones, shop televisions. Any screen on any one of the hundreds of skyscrapers surrounding you.

And they all read the same thing.

London Attack Revelations: Spider-Man responsible for Hero Mysterio's Death

THEDAILYBUGLE.NET EXCLUSIVE: Peter Parker revealed as the murderer behind the mask of the menace known as the 'Spider-Man'

Voices overlapped in your head. The people around you reacting. The different news stations relaying each other. Your own.

But what stood out the most was the shaky video on display directly across the street from you.

You didn't recognize the man, but you recognized the suit. This man was Mysterio. Beck. Beat up with blood on his face and surrounded by broken glass.

And the words came right from him mouth.

"Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!"

You felt your senses dulling around you then. The only thing you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart trying to keep you alive.

So many secrets. So many truths. Too many.

You felt yourself loosing your grip, but no one was there to stop you from falling.

Usually Peter did that.

But Peter wasn't there.

Peter was Spider-Man?

Peter was a murderer?

A loud roar from a gathering crowd was enough to get you moving, even though you felt--well, you didn't know how you felt.

Your feet moved without much thought. Bringing you to the one place where you thought you could be safe. Where you could lock the door and cover your ears and close your eyes and wish it would all go away. That you would wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Your feet moved, and you mindlessly made it back to your empty apartment.

It wasn't home. You home had been taken away from you. The walls were empty. The furniture brand new.

Your hands shook as you locked the door behind you. That's when you lost the sliver of control you had, sliding down against the front of the door in a gasp that let everything flood you.

Tears burned against your skin as they streamed down your face. Tears of confusion. Tears of hurt. Tears of anger. Tears of any reason you could possibly think of.

It was a lot to comprehend at once.

Too much.

A frantic knocking on your door made you flinch and let out a yelp. You scrambled away, barely standing yourself up when you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" It was Peter. "Are you-- are you in there?"

Oh God, it was Peter. Standing on the other side of your apartment door. Sounding the most scared you've ever heard him in his entire life.

You stayed silent.

"Y/N, please-please. I can hear you,"

And you could hear just how much he was pleading. How his voice was shaking with every syllable.

"Please let me in. I can-- I don't know what you've heard yet, but I can explain everything. But I really need you to let me in. You're all I have left and I know-- I know it's selfish, but, Y/N, you're my only hope."

You're breathing became heavier and it held like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist.

You couldn't leave him out there.

But in a quick motion, you reached forward and unlocked the door.

Once the locked clicked, the door opened and Peter stepped in faster than you could register, locking the door again behind him. "Y/N, I'm so sorry--"

You backed away from him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't make you leave." You demanded, the words sounding more foreign than a different language as they left your mouth.

Peter's expression was heartbreaking. His hair darker and plastered to his face from sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears already threatening to spill. A look of hurt painted over his face like it was a damaged canvas.

"L-look, I know about everything that they're saying about me out there, and-and I know how it sounds. Y/N, I'm not asking you to like me right now or even trust me until you sort things out because I know this is too much so fast. And I'm so, so sorry. But I'm alone and I'm afraid and all I'm asking is could you please just hold my hand? Even if you can only do it for a little bit?"

Your eyes didn't leave Peter.

They couldn't.

You didn't see Spider-Man as you looked at him. You didn't see someone capable of killing someone in cold blood.

All you saw was the boy who held you when times got rough.

The boy who defended you from bullies even if it meant he would be going home with a black eye.

The boy who stayed up with you all hours of the night when you woke up from a bad dream.

The boy who cared about you more than he cared about himself.

The boy who held your hand through it all.

And here he was. In front of you. Asking you to do the same.

After all, you had promised.

Peter Parker wasn't a murderer. That, you were sure of. The odds could be stacked against him twenty times over and you still wouldn't believe it.

But everyone wasn't like you. The world believed it. And the world was after him.

You looked at the boy. Peter wasn't a murderer, but he was broken. Broken over and over so many times, that he's now unable to put himself back together all alone.

You looked at the boy who held your hand all those years, and was asking the simple thing of you: to hold his back.

You looked at Peter, and all you could see was someone who needed you the way you needed him. The boy who has always needed you the way you needed him.

And now more than ever.

You cleared your mind enough to focus on that one thing. If you had learned anything, is that you needed to take the road to recovery one step at a time. And you already know what the first step was. What you had to do.

You take his hand.

A fractured smile twitched on his lips as he held on tight, heavy with the fear that you might let go. But you already made up your mind, despite what you knew you were going to have to do. Knowing that when the time came, you would have to turn your back on the world. To protect Peter. Because he needed you like you needed him.

"I can do more than that."

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶

I most definitely didn't fangirl a little when i saw who sent this,I am so sorry I took a break from tumblr lol

Hm, only five? That's a tough one considering I'm Always listening to music and can barely choose even then. Let's make this easy on myself and go with a few that I've already listened to today:

Mx. Sinister by IDKhow

Alone by Heart

Shake Tramp by Marianas Trench

Favorite Liar by The Wrecks

and Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon

[thatgeekyemo]

Moments To Remember

peter parker x reader | 4.9k

summery: don't ever tell peter parker he doesn't know what he's fighting for. his reasons, past, present, and future influence him daily; his moments to remember

requested prompt 41: "I love you.", request from starrr238 over on Wattpad

Over the years, Peter was told he had a special look that only ever appeared when he was looking at you. An adoration that was reserved for you and only you. His head always tilted slightly to the side, letting a few curls of his hair flop over his face. He wore a soft smile, and there was a warmth in his eyes that never appeared for anyone else. You were always the subject of his gaze, and he always watched you intently. He swept his eyes over every part of you, memorizing you how you were, focusing more intently on your hands, your hair, but always most importantly, your face. Every time he looked at you like that, he was always taking a mental snapshot. Creating a timeless moment in his mind, filed away in the folder of ever growing reasons why he loved you.

If he wanted to, Peter could shuffle through the pictures of perfection he created of you. The way you held his hands after your first kiss so many years ago. Bathed in the golden glow of a setting sun after a picnic in the park. Hair messy, chewing on the back of a pen, and wearing a two day old outfit as you were cramming for your college finals. The love in your eyes as you said yes, the metal band around your finger gleaming against the candle-light. The moments the two of you succeeded in dancing under the spotlight, swaying gently to the slow music—you in your white dress and last name officially his.

There was no doubt the same look was on Peter's face now as he looked at you. His breathing calm and even. You were only a few feet away, in the apartment the both of you shared, nestled into the corner of the couch, but the want to be near you and pull you close intensified. He would no doubt do this later, but right now...right now was a moment to remember.

You were in one of your favorite flowy dresses, the one you kept wearing for its practicality and comfort even as you kept growing. A blanket was draped over your shoulders, and your legs were tucked under you the best they could be, which was a feat in itself. You had a book in your hand, and Peter could tell you were deep into the story by the way your brow furrowed. He followed the ways your eyes flitted from line to line, the small changes in your expression and soft gasps as events unfolded on the paper in front of you.

Between turning the page and nibbling cheese off a plate that was balanced on a pillow for easier access next to you, your hand rested soothingly on the large bump that was your very pregnant stomach, occasionally rubbing mindless circles.

Peter wondered if he could somehow make this moment last forever, but he settled for the comfortable silence instead. The steady thrum of the rain beating on the window outside did nothing to bring down the mood in the cozy New York apartment you and Peter called home.

Everything that was in front of him, everything he had, it was all he ever needed and more. And he just couldn't wait until his family would grow by one more. A child he would proudly call his own. The chance to be the best father—and for you to be the best mother.

When Peter was satisfied, he was careful moving around the couch, not wanting to disturb you as much as he could. Your lips quirked up into a smile as he stole a slice of cheese and he settled down next to you, his hand joining yours on your stomach, mouth chewing a small bite as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The silence continued, and Peter didn't dare to break it with meaningless words. He could stay there with you for hours and never get bored. Sometimes, he didn't understand how he could have ever gotten so lucky. His entire life, he was only a kid from Queens. He used to be a nobody. And then he became Spider-Man. But even then, the hero and Peter Parker were two separate people. He hadn't started to feel truly special until he met you. He watched as you fell in love with the boy beneath the mask, and suddenly, that kid from Queens was the personality Peter began to favor more and more. He could make you smile without having to impress you with his powers, and that was when he realized that somehow, out of all the billions of people in the world, he had found the one.

Minutes ticked by, and Peter was content as he rested his head on your shoulder, his eyes closed, listening to you breathe and the two healthy heartbeats your body held. The heartbeat of his wife, and the heartbeat of his future daughter.

He felt you shift underneath him, heard the rustle of the pages of your book. A soft sigh had him raise his head, his eyes not open just yet.

You brought your palm to his face, pulling him closer so you could place a soft kiss on his lips. Peter smiled as your thumb gently swiped over the light freckles on his cheek, and tried to follow you as you pulled away, but your quiet whisper stopped him.

"I need to pee."

Opening his eyes, Peter chuckled softly. "Do you want help up?"

"Please," you sighed, reaching for his hands as Peter stood up in a fluid motion from the couch. Once you reached around the six month mark, you were so determined to continue to do basic things like getting out of bed or sitting up by yourself, but the tasks just grew harder and harder the farther along in your pregnancy, until the point where you learned to just surrender and accept Peter's help.

He remembered the first day you couldn't move from your favorite armchair by yourself. How your face flushed from frustration as you attempted to push yourself up, but you were too far sunk into the cushions and you were sporting an entire cabbage in your uterus.

You had called Pepper that night, nearly in tears because the baby was going to hinder your ability to move around and you actually had to start asking for help—which you at the time had made out to be akin to the greatest sin of all.

At the same time, Peter was on the other side of the room. While you were on the phone talking to a woman who empathized with you, he had accepted a call from a very tired Tony Stark, who assured him that he was in the exact same position with Pepper when she was seven months—and in fact, from what he could hear, your rant was nearly identical.

Peter held on to keep you balanced as you teetered a little bit as you stood on your feet, but once he was sure you could stand, his hands gravitated to either side of your belly.

"Has she said hello today?" He asked, leaning his head to touch yours.

"Loads of times. You missed a very active day." You snorted. "Got dangerously close to my ribs too. I swear, if she fractures one of them again..."

"I told you that's not my fault!" Peter grinned, pulling his head back to look at you. "Babies do it all the time, freaky super-spider genetics have nothing to do with it!"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head, and Peter could tell you were fighting the urge to smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple and you slipped out of his arms to pass by him.

A smile never left Peter's face as he watched you waddle your way to the bathroom in little and careful steps. There was something endearing about the way you had started to walk so you could see your feet and balance, and to your dismay, it had led to Peter calling you his penguin on more than one occasion. It was all the more annoying when you had actually dressed in white and black once. After a long struggle to roll out of an empty bed, you had made your way to the kitchen, where Peter had been attempting to make breakfast and you were greeted with a perfectly purposeful Morning, penguin. You had stuck your tongue out at Peter, but he just countered that you'd walked right into that one. You had, so to his victory, you couldn't even argue.

Once the door closed behind you, Peter hovered around the hallway, just a couple of feet away in case you needed him. It didn't matter how many times you told him that he could help with anything else, but you at least wanted the dignity to wipe by yourself, you would always see him across from you as you exited the bathroom, always using the excuse of fixing the pictures that hung on the wall.

Surprisingly, you smugly smirked at him this time. Too amused to react as you waddled past, flipping him off over your shoulder, Peter just shook his head and drifted over to the kitchen.

"Any requests for the chef?" He called out, peering into the refrigerator.

"Please retire from the chef career, because someone who can burn water shouldn't cater to his pregnant wife?" He heard you call back and a grin split his face.

"Agreed, but you can't argue: I make a mean sandwich though!"

"You do. How about you make that then? And more cheese would be amazing." He heard you reply and he grabbed the lunch meat from the shelf.

"What d'you want?" He asked, peering down at his options as he grabbed some bread. "We got ham, turkey— oo! There's even some of the good roast beef left!" Peter opened the bag and took a small sniff. "Nevermind!" He gagged, tossing the meat into the trash and the sound of your laughter buzzed beautifully in his head. "Thats a no-go on the roast beef."

"No, the—mhm!" Peter straightened up so fast he almost hit his head on the bottom of the overhead cabinets at the sound of your pained moan. He quickly twisted to look at you, finding you grasping the back of the couch and slightly hunched as you were holding your belly.

"Are you two okay?" He asked immediately, urgency in his voice, and you just waved your hand at him, letting out a staggered breath as you turned your head to see him already taking steps on your direction.

"We're fine." You told him and smiled. "I was just saying that the sandwich is yours. You forgot to eat lunch because you were too busy ogling me, and if you're gonna go on patrol later, I don't need your stomach waking me up in the middle of the night."

Peter just rolled his eyes, searching through the unorganized silverware drawer for a butter knife so he would have something to spread mayonnaise with. He found a spoon instead. "'Ogling' makes me sound like a creep."

"Says the man that wears a skintight costume and fights bad guys for a living." He heard you let out a soft groan as you sat back down in your spot. "Don't spiders literally just sit around all day and wait for their prey to get caught in their web? You've done that before. I don't know—" you clicked your tongue— "that kinda spells creep to me."

"That's so totally not fair that you get to use something I did years ago against me! It was a stakeout! The whole point is to wait for someone!" Peter tried to stop himself from laughing, looking over his shoulder to see your sarcastic smile scrunching up your face. He failed.

"Hey, I'm just stating the facts." You promptly stated.

"Then you forgot to add just how good I look wearing said skintight suit."

"Don't need a lot of imagination to see what's underneath," You hummed behind him, and Peter remembered to cut you more slices of cheese before he put it away as he added some to his sandwich. "Though I wonder how many people stare at your ass when you swing by." You added as an afterthought.

Peter snorted, searching fridge again for the jar of pickles he swore he saw earlier that week. "Please don't make that a legitimate thought in my head."

"Too late! It's already there!" He rolled his eyes, knowing that you were right. Well, that gave him something to mull over later.

"Are you sure you don't want a sandwich?" He asked, hesitant to put away the ingredients in front of him as he pushed his now finished sandwich to the side next to your plate of cheese, closing the lid on the pickle jar. "I got the stuff right here,"

"Just the cheese, please!"

"Coming right up."

He was by your side soon enough, handing over your plate with his sandwich in one hand—the other resting on your stomach as he whispered encouragements to the baby inside between bites, trying to get her move around.

Peter would be lying if he said he expected his life to be as perfect as it was. Sometimes, he felt like he was living in a dream.

He never exactly knew he could love someone as deeply as he loved you. It was different from how he loved May. From how he loved Tony and Pepper and Morgan and everyone else. It was a type of love that he assumed was only granted to a few lucky individuals. A love for not just you, but for all of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Every flaw and imperfection you thought you had. Never once in his life had Peter looked at you and saw anything but perfection.

And to further that, he never thought he could care about someone so much before they were born. He was so close to becoming a father—any day now, really. Your due date was in a week, and Peter could hardly wait. In a week, an entire brand new person would be introduced into the world. One that he would have a key role in raising. A life among others that Peter would protect at all costs.

It didn't take long for Peter to figure out that this love...this love was the love he saw in the world. The love in waking up to see the sun shining brightly in the sky. In feeling of the wind against his skin. In feeling blades of grass between his fingers and the earth beneath him. The feeling of seeing someone feel important and acknowledged in this large world when you do something as small as giving them a smile and a wave.

All of the indiscernable and irrefutable details that make up life—that love—is what Peter fought for. What he suited up for to protect. And while he had seen it before, having you in his life only amplified his ability to appreciate it all. And he wouldn't know what to do without you. You were an integral part of him now, just as was he to you.

Peter wasn't in the mood to leave you just yet as the sounds of sirens started rose against the sounds of the rain outside, but it was you who urged him to go.

He knew it couldn't have been easy for you, him being Spider-Man — especially now that the both of you were worrying for two — but no matter how many conversations over the years the both of you have had, the conclusion was always the same: there was no way you could ever force Peter to give up doing what he does. Being the hero to the people who don't think they have one.

Not just a hero to the world, but a hero to the men and women who have to walk home alone at night and are scared of every shadow of a person that they pass. To the children who are too afraid to speak up against their abusive families. To the ones who get picked on by their peers for being different. To the single parents working two jobs to support their household.

Spider-Man might help save the world sometimes, or stop a bank robbery or a weapons ring or even an underground mob, but New York City saw him as something more than just another Avenger.

Spider-Man was hope.

And to Peter, that was one of the best things he could ever be. It was why no matter how many times he got knocked down, he always got back up.

Things threatened to get complicated the second Spider-Man had begun to follow the cacophony of sirens. It didn't take long to intercept their route and use zip webs to pick up the pace after finding out who the police were chasing.

Puma had been spotted running rampant on the streets of New York, and Peter knew that Spider-Man had to try to contain him before the police got into a fight they wouldn't be able to win.

The rain stung even through his suit as Peter fought. Charcoal clouds crowded the sky and the winds had picked up as the calming midsummer shower had turned into a violent storm. Although having over two decades to try and find the answer, he still couldn't understand just how fast a situation could change. Just ten minutes ago Peter was sitting in his home with you in his arms. Now he was grappling with a man who had history and a personal grudge against Spider-Man; though he seemed less man and more mountain lion in this particular encounter.

Drowned out by the weather around them, the battle between Spider-Man and Puma was just as thunderous.

It was a vicious dance — one involving slashing claws and gnashing teeth. One Peter could see he was quickly loosing the advantage in.

As the rain poured down harder and harder — the sound being the only thing Peter could hear next to Puma's snarls and Karen's voice in his mask — the more Peter became confined to the ground, where his opponent had the upper hand. Neither Spider-Man or his webs could stick to a surface drenched in water, and the glass of the surrounding buildings had waterfalls streaming down its sides.

Spider-Man had very narrowly dodged a pounce and spun around in time to see Puma skid across the asphalt of the abandoned road before digging his claws into the ground and immediately charging forward, eyes bright and wild.

Peter was rapidly loosing stamina in the game of stay away he was playing as his brain churned, trying to think of a way out of the situation he was in. But Puma was fast and smart, and never gave him a chance to keep his train of thought — the quips long abandoned in exchange for both panic and the determination to come out on top of the fight unscathed.

Vaulting over an overturned car, Spider-Man landed on his back and kicked the vehicle into the air just as Puma had jumped. The thwack that filled the air as the two collided was almost sickening, if he hadn't known that the attack wouldn't be more than a minor hindrance.

Still, it had given him enough time to get farther away as he backspringed up, and therefore, more time to think.

But his thoughts seemed to come to a screeching halt as your picture appeared in the top left of his lenses before racing even faster. Peter knew he had been avoiding the constant thrum of his phone, which he had no doubt they had been messages considering how many he had received over the course of the fight, but a small ball of guilt began to form when he realized those messages had been from you. They had to be. And the matter had to be important if you were now calling the emergency number that connected you directly to his suit.

Jumping to a lamp post, Peter hesitated in whether he should answer the call. On one hand, he was struggling to stay one step ahead of Puma without any distractions, but on the other he knew you only contacted him through Karen if it was something that absolutely couldn't wait and needed him now.

"Peter." His name came out in a gasp over the line, and he almost stumbled at the sound of pain laced in your voice.

A roar, and Puma threw the car off of him, staggering back up and twisting around to find Spider-Man perched in the air.

"Are you okay?" Peter rushed out, fear overwhelming the guilt in his stomach.

"I tried— I tried to wait for you—"

Your labored breaths didn't carry over in any way that put Peter in any ease. Especially when Puma spotted him, and began to stalk his way.

"So you could— so you could fight. I saw on the news..."

Peter flipped off the post as Puma charged into it, and he found his footing on the slick ground. Spider-Man's webs still stuck in matted fur, and he was able to launch himself into the mutates side, flinging Puma into the department store across the street.

"But I can't any longer—"

Peter's eyes darted frantically behind his mask, the thought of what was happening in his absence starting to make itself obvious. "Y/N, are you—"

"The baby, Peter," you gasped out, and Peter could hear the rushed voices of others around you. "She's coming."

In a moment of panic, time seemed to freeze and Peter's mind went blank.

Just how an innocent rain shower turned into a monstrous storm, or how an equal battle threatened to turn into a loosing fight, you had now gone into labor after seemingly being fine before he had left.

Peter wasn't expecting it to be today, although he knew for a fact that due dates were only estimates. He was more than prepared to be a father, but the odds were quickly stacking against him and he was suddenly wracked with fear.

Puma's roar was only registered when it was too late, Peter's spider sense screaming 'get out of the way', but the boy himself having no time to react with anything other than to turn in time to see the beast lunge with an open jaw, and tackle him right to the ground.

Landing on the ground knocked all the air from his lungs, but Peter had more things to worry about than breathing.

The both of them tumbled down the road in circles, each fighting to break free of each other's grasp. Peter held tightly onto Puma's wrists, only just barely keeping the man's claws inches from his face while wrestling with the rest of the bigger body on top of him.

You had hung up, and while Peter didn't know exactly why, he hoped it was because someone else was there with you and decided that you listening to the fight wasn't a good idea — to which he would agree. Although, he hadn't said all he wanted to say to you.

Puma snarled above Spider-Man, fangs snapping closer and closer to his face with every second as Peter was struggling to hold him back.

Dread striked deep into Peter's chest. He couldn't lose this fight, not like this, not today.

Spider-Man couldn't die yet. Too many people needed him to be a light in an otherwise precarious world. The citizens of New York, the Avengers, his Aunt May, you,

His daughter.

Peter knew the dangers that came with being a hero like Spider-Man. He had since Iron Man saved him when he was eight. Since he evacuated NYC in 2012. Since he first donned the mask when he was fourteen. When he blinked into the future and fought in a war to save the world. Peter knew, yet he continued to fight.

Because that's what he did.

He didn't fight just to save the world, he fought so people could keep living. One might think they were the same thing, but if you look closely, there is a difference.

See, living was what Peter fought for. The adventure that was the world and all the pleasures and hardships that came with it. Living was experience.

And there were still a whole lot of experiences Peter still hadn't gotten to live through just yet. He was about to be a father. He had an entirely new future ahead of him, full of all of the crying and laughing and bonding and love that came with parenthood.

He wanted to hold the tiny human being that would soon be born into the world in his arms, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before she would grow up just like he had. He wanted to be there for all of the late night feedings and messy diapers and tantrums, first days of school and nightmares and first kisses. He wanted to raise and shape a life with you just the way your parents had with you, how his aunt and uncle had done with him.

It was rare that Peter ever fought for himself, but he did so now more than ever. Because right now, his wife was in labor, and Peter wasn't going to make an orphan of his daughter. Just as he hadn't made his wife a widow, or have his aunt and the Starks go through the loss of a child.

In a bout of strength, Peter was able to turn the tables.

With a kick up, Spider-Man was able to launch Puma into the sky and to get a good enough grip with two webs to swing him around.

Puma's body hit the pavement with a thud that briefly shook the ground. He still stirred, but was too disoriented to do anything more than try to lift his head.

From there, Peter made quick work of subduing him even further, just as the police began to close in on all sides.

Spider-Man stood over the unconscious body unable to revel in victory. He only stood long enough to make sure Puma would be captured. Then he was gone.

Peter Parker was then by your side in the hospital room in a matter of minutes. He was out of breath and drenched in both rain and sweat, but he had made it. A crowd of familiar faces greeted him, but his priority was you as he immediately took your hand.

For the second time that day, his brain had gone completely blank. But this one was different, denoted by the smile that he wasn't sure was able to leave his lips.

Another picture to file away in his moments to remember was one of you and the baby girl you held in your arms. Tears of happiness pricked at your eyes, your hair was a mess, and you were wearing a hospital gown, but none of that mattered. What did was the smile on your own face as you gazed down at the swaddled baby in your arms, skin bright and flushed from having both just been born and fresh from crying.

Peter leaned over and you turned your head to him, momentarily meeting his eyes. He didn't want to think about the fear you had felt yourself, that he wouldn't have made it to the birth of his daughter, because that hadn't happened. He was here and he had made it and it couldn't have gone any better.

He pressed his lips to yours briefly in a chaste kiss before peering down at the baby in your arms, his own body gravitating to become like a shield to the outside world around the three of you.

Peter's head tilted to the side, and he had to resist the urge to push his hair back and out of his face. His gaze was focused warmly on the tiny human barely as long as his forearm resting calmly in her mothers arms. She was a new face to memorize, with puffy cheeks and eyes squeezed shut and a few strands of brown hair atop her head. Surely, a face that would change tremendously over time, but that didn't matter, because he just took a snapshot of this stage as if he had his camera with him. And it wasn't hard to realize that the look he always saved for you was now extended to one more.

"I love you."

His words were a whisper to his daughter, only able to be heard by her and her mother only.

His words were a promise.

Love is what he lived for. Love is what he fought for. Love is why he survived — why he always will.

Because Spider-Man fought for that love in the world. Because that love made living worth it, because that love was crucial to the experience living granted.

Peter found that love in a lot of things. In the air, the sun, the sky, the trees and the grass. His friends and his family. In a simple thing such as a smile, or a wave, or a hug, or a single word.

Of course he had been scared, but that was all part of the experience. Life isn't life without the experience of fear. But the product of coming out the other end having conquered it was worth so much more in the end. That's why he wasn't afraid to be Spider-Man. That's why he wasn't afraid to love freely and love openly.

He closed his eyes and viewed the still he'd created in his mind.

It was another perfect moment to remember.

The first of his new family.

The first of thousands more.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst

[thatgeekyemo]

Dedicated Distraction

peter parker x reader | 2.5k

summery: In which peter tries and succeeds in being a dedicated audience. However, all you could see with him there was a distraction.

requested: prompt 7:"Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that", requested by ThatRandomDemigod07 on Wattpad

note: this is your reminder to (re)watch Daredevil

"Hey Fog, where's my other sneaker?" You asked as you stood up from where you were laying of the ground, searching under the couch for your missing shoe.

"Oh. I dunno," You heard him call out and you rolled your eyes.

Grabbing your bag from the couch, you grabbed your binder and stuffed it inside and slung the open bag over your shoulder before heading toward the kitchen, where coincidentally, Foggy was standing and holding something suspiciously behind his back.

"You know, you can't keep me captive here," you snorted, grabbing a couple packages of goldfish and slipping them into your bag before zipping it up.

"Who said I was keeping you here? I just simply want to know why you won't stay here. With me. You know, I miss you."

"I'm here all the time!" You countered. "I live here!"

"Exactly!" Foggy exclaimed. "So, why can't Peter meet you here?"

"Because he's already at Matt's and I promised I'd meet him there." You held your hand out. "Can I have my shoe now?"

"What? This shoe?" He pulled it out from behind his back and shrugged. "I didn't know this was your shoe. Are you sure it's not mine? Looks like one of mine."

"Sure it does." You grinned. "You're not seriously jealous of Matt, are you Foggy?"

"No," he scoffed. "I just don't understand why you'd rather spend time with Peter at his place instead of here."

"Have you thought about me just liking him better?" You suggested, holding back a giggle at his shocked face.

"How dare you like Matthew Murdock better than your own brother!"

"You're my brother. I think it's law that I would like everyone more than you. You would know."

You smirked as you plucked your sneaker out of his hand and he gaped at you. You could see the twitch in his cheek as he held back a smile.

"It still wouldn't hurt for Peter to hang out here every once in a while."

"So you could cross examine him and figure out every one of his secrets?" You chuckled. "It's just a study date, Foggy. It's not like we're doing anything."

"But you are!" He whined. "You're making it so I can't play the role of the badass protective big brother!"

"Where's the proof?"

"What is it about Matt that makes his place better than ours? Is he really that much cooler than me? Is it because he's blind? That's not cool, Y/N. If you think you can get away with stuff just because of that, you'd be sorely mistaken."

"I know," you chuckled, Foggy not knowing that you already knew Matt was so much more than just blind. "You forgot to mention 'hot', by the way." You said as you tied your laces, hearing a choking noise from Foggy in front of you.

"Under—under no circumstance are you allowed to crush on my best friend!" He gaped. "Especially because he's over a decade older than you!"

"What? I'll be legal in two years." You said with a smirk, making your brother open his mouth to protest, but no words came out, making him reminiscent to a fish out of water. "I'm just kidding, Fog." You said, clutching your stomach from laughter. "I'm kidding! Relax." You repeated, hoping he knew you were joking.

"Good. Because there's no way in hell I would let that happen." He opened the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, narrowing his eyes at you. "Matt gets all the girls, but he knows you're off limits."

"Matt's like my brother too. I would never, you know that." You sighed, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "And just so you know, he's already taken the place of the badass protective brother."

"You take that back." But now he was grinning with you, playfulness buzzing in the air.

"I'll see you later. Don't wanna keep Peter waiting." You hugged Foggy and heard him sigh. "Promise next time, we'll work over here."

"Just one question," you heard him ask as you opened the front door.

"Yeah?"

"How many dates have you and Peter had at Matt's? Be honest—"

"Foggy!"

"—with me! You two should seriously start thinking of other venues. It's gotta be getting boring by now."

"I have some stuff to do!" You spoke over him. "You know, for school! I'll see you later!"

"I'll be here!" He called back as you closed the front door. "By myself." You heard muffled, and you just shook your head before walking down the steps of the walk up, stepping outside and walking on the sidewalk in the direction of Matt's apartment in Hell's Kitchen.

                                                             ***

You could smell the blood that tainted the air the second you walked in. You had no superpowers as you knew, it was just that saturated. You sighed, pocketing your key and locking the door again behind you as you stepped inside.

"Got carried away, didn't you?" You called out, even though you knew Matt probably heard you when you started on the stairs and probably already told Peter of your arrival. "You guys okay?"

"Just peachy." You heard Peter grit out through his teeth, and you quickly saw him and Matt sitting on the couch, first aid kit wide open. His suit was bunched up around his waist and he was gripping onto the couch as Matt dabbed a bleeding gash on his chest. You thought it looked bad then, but then you saw the blood soaked towels on the ground and realized it must have been a lot worse.

"Damn," you muttered as you stopped and sat gently on Peter's other side. Your eyes swept over to assess the damage, but it looked like Matt was doing a pretty good job to get the bleeding to stop. Tearing your eyes from him, you looked away, not wanting to get caught staring. Of course, your heart gave you away.

"Any longer, you might get caught." You heard Matt say softly with a smirk on his face and you whispered a sharp 'shut up' as you pulled some gauze out to be ready for when the cut was clean.

Turning toward Peter again, you saw a cheeky grin on his face before it disappeared in a wince. "My suit took most of the damage," he began, knowing you wanted the story. "But not all. Obviously. The blade sliced right through the nano. Of course it patched itself right up, so it's perfectly fine." Peter grumbled.

"It can take a bullet but not a knife? I thought Stark's engineering was better than that." You shook your head.

"We don't know where these guys got their weapons." Peter shut his eyes and groaned as he leaned forward so Matt could wrap the gauze around him despite you saying you could help. "But they're not normal."

"We're thinking vibranium laced, at least, if the blade isn't made fully of it." Matt finished. "Destroyed my clubs too."

"You good?" You asked Matt.

"Been worse." He shrugged.

"And you?" You turned to Peter.

"I'll heal in a couple hours. Just hurts." He shifted as Matt finished up and you watched in amusement as he struggled to pull his shirt on over his head.

"Well good, because I have a speech for Debate Team to give, and you're my practice audience. Need you to be alive and focused." You crossed your legs under you and plopped your bag on your lap.

"Did you—"

"And I brought snacks." You tossed a bag of goldfish at him.

"Yes!" Peter cheered, already tearing open the bag.

"Care to stick around?" You asked Matt, who in return shook his head. "Peter's always biased. I could use your thoughts."

"I'm gonna see if Foggy's free to help me trace down a lead." Matt said apologetically.

"Hey, I thought we were doing that together!"

Matt stood up. "I promise I won't go after anyone without you." He reassured Peter before standing up and grabbing the walking stick he used in public. "Besides, debating was never my strong suit." He added with another smirk.

"You absolute liar," you laughed, shaking your head. "Good luck."

"Please respect my apartment. It might be crappy, but it's home."

"With only the utmost." You promised as Matt pulled on his jacket.

"We'll be back later. We can get a pizza or something." He said before closing the door and leaving the two of you alone.

You laughed as Peter finished off the bag, tipping the crumbs into his mouth. "What?" He said, voice muffled from the crackers.

"Nothing." You lied, shaking your head. It didn't matter how long the both of you have been interested in each other, you still wouldn't admit out loud to him that nearly everything he did, he was able to make it look cute.

"This is the books versus movies debate, right?" Peter asked, angling himself toward you as you opened your binder to the Debate section inside.

"Mhm," you agreed, nodding your head.

"And you're arguing on books' side, right?"

"Yup."

"Alright, let's hear it."

Sitting on opposite sides of the couch and facing each other (Peter being confined until his pain subsided and you taking advantage of that), you began to go over your notes with the boy, tweaking your essay and making sure sentences made grammatical sense along the way.

When you felt like your draft was the best it could be, you and Peter held a light conversation as you wrote the final copy.  You should have prepared yourself for the words he was throwing your way, since neither of you had seen the other since Friday and it was currently a Sunday afternoon, but you weren't.

What you loved about Peter was how loved he made you feel. Whenever he asked how your day was, it was always out of sincere interest. Whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on, he made sure he did whatever he could to help you feel better. Whenever he complimented you, it was always in sure but subtle ways since he always got too blushy when he said it upfront — he did it that way because he doesn't like it when you tease him about getting red. Nothing he does is out of obligation, but out of the way he cared for you, and you absolutely adored him for that. The only thing you could do, was to make sure that you always did the same.

Your bag and binder was now on the ground with only your speech splayed across your lap. You had started from the top, giving it your best Debate voice, but you kept running into...complications.

"There is a certain likeness—a quality, you might say—that books have that movies can't quite achieve: that being..." your eyes drifted up and your voice trailed off at the feeling of Peter's trained on you. Quickly, you looked back down at the paper and cleared your throat.

"That being," you continued, "the active use of your imagination and the inclusion of details. It's common knowledge that both movies and books tell a story. While both do a good job, books can have more freedom when it comes down to it.

"Movies tend to..." you felt your gaze leave your paper again to the boy in front of you. "Movies tend to show, rather than tell. There's a fine line that separates them, and it's very rare for movies to be on the right side of that line. When they do, you're beautiful—uh, it's beautiful."

You quickly took a breath, trying to focus your mind, but you couldn't just ignore the fact that Peter was listening to you as intently as the boy could, his sole attention on you, and if that wasn't the most distracting thing in the world you didn't know what was—scratch that. You knew what Peter could do to make him even more distracting.

"Naturally, books have that perfect balance of showing and telling, as well as the added bonus of you being able to picture the story as a movie of its own. The use of imagination while reading books has been proven to...improve...proven to improve..."

Against the part of you telling you to focus, the third time you had gotten too lost in the lazy grin the boy in front of you had splayed across his face and the way his eyes tracked your every movement until yours connected with his and held you in a trance.

Suddenly, letting a brief moment of clarity wash over you, you broke the welling quiet.

"Dammit Parker!" You groaned. "Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that!"

"Like what?" Peter asked innocently, his grin growing as you tossed your pen at him. "I'm just being a dedicated audience! Like you told me to be!"

"Yeah, well, you're being a distracting audience instead!" You huffed into your hands, more annoyed at yourself than anything else if you could even say you were annoyed.

"Would a kiss help? Get it out of your system?"

Trying your hardest to hold back a grin of your own, you stared at Peter in surprise. "Oh, so where did that confidence come from?" You asked between laughs and you could see the pink dust his cheeks.

"Don't mind me," he shrugged as he adjusted himself into a better sitting position. "It's the pain meds."

"Smooth, but you didn't take any." You sent a smirk in his direction and the boy just shrugged again. "So now I think you're doing this to me on purpose. And for a kiss? You can get those any old time. I'm trying not to bomb my Debate grade here."

"Hey, I just want to watch. I could listen to you talk for hours without getting bored."

"I guess we'll have to test that one day." You said as you put your speech back into your bag and zipped it up.

"Hey, you didn't finish!" Peter protested as you moved closer to him, careful not to bounce the couch too much and to avoid where the right side of his chest was healing.

"You can hear it later," you mumbled as you squeezed yourself in between the couch and Peter, laying your head on his shoulder. "I can't finish with you here. I miss you too much."

You could feel his body temperature rise alongside his blush as you pressed a soft kiss to his skin before settling in even more, letting yourself melt into his warmth and touch.

"I've missed you too." You heard him whisper, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. He rested his head on yours, the weight of it reassuring. "M'tired,"

"Let's sleep then." You muttered. "You've had a big day."

"I wanna hear the end of your speech later."

"I doubt you will if I haven't kissed you before then."

"Why not do it now then?"

"Because you're tired and I'm comfy. Now shh. I'm fairly certain Matt and Foggy are back."

"My eyes haven't even been closed thirty seconds!" Peter protested.

"I'm sure they'll open for pizza." You chuckled as the front door opened.

"Only for the pizza." He stated.

You hummed contently as you let yourself stay distracted. You never could for long, anyway, and you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker x you #marvel #matt murdock #ppib #peter parker imagine #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu #peter parker fluff #fluff #daredevil #foggy nelson

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Finale

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

peter parker x reader | 4.1k

note: there's definitely room for an epilogue here, but for now this is how the story ends :)

You used to be afraid of heights. But then you were able to catch yourself if you fell.

By pure chance, you were bitten by an radioactive spider on a school field trip. Just a random spider that by chance, had gotten caught in a radiation test. It wasn't chance that the radiation that was now in that spider was killing it, but it was chance that its last victim had been you. It had been chance that you survived the radiation that passed through the venom in its bite and in return, it forever altered your DNA. It was chance that you had been given powers beyond what should have been possible. It wasn't chance that you decided to use those powers for good, to become a hero like the heroes you've looked up to your entire life.

It was by chance that you had met Peter Parker. He could have easily not walked up to the lonely kid during playtime on your first day of kindergarten and tell you that he would play blocks with you. It was by chance that he became your first real friend, but it wasn't chance that he decided that you were worth it to stick with even as you grew up and faced burdens you wouldn't have been able to get through without the other. It was chance that your admiration turned into adoration. It wasn't that he had become the one beacon in your life that always lit up your day no matter what you had gone through. It wasn't chance that he had started to notice and worry when you started wearing long sleeves and hats to cover bruises and cuts.

It wasn't chance when Peter had begun to suspect you were keeping an important secret from him.

It wasn't chance that the two of you had started to drift apart because of it.

And wasn't chance that because you hid Spider-Woman from your best friend, from the boy you were in love with, that you were primarily to blame when he got hurt because of you.

You thought you had gotten over your fear of heights. After all, you could always catch yourself if you fell. But you had thought wrong.

You might be able to catch yourself, but that wasn't the question that had tears pricking your eyes and your stomach lurching in fear.

Could you catch Peter?

The outside world was a blur as you dived straight down. A mesh of greys and blues around you and streaks of whites and reds and blacks below you.

The only one in focus was him. The only one you could see was Peter as he continued to fall, the wind whipping at his hair and clothes. His glasses were gone and you could faintly hear him screaming your name before it got carried away in the wind, like it was telling him there was no use in calling out to you.

You tried to dive faster, but the ground was rapidly approaching quicker than you could have imagined. An unmovable threat that could only be avoided if you were good enough. Gravity was your greatest enemy and it seemed to laugh in your face now, despite the fact that you defied it nearly every day.

No matter what happened, you knew these moments would haunt you for the rest of your life. The memories were branded in your head, and would replay behind your eyelids every time you shut them. Only the ending was undetermined, but that would be chosen soon enough. You just wish you had more time.

Fighting against the velocity at which you fell, you extended your arm in front of you and tried to shoot a web to Peter, but it had missed before fluttering away. You choked back a sob. You tried again, increasing the power in your web shooters, and Peter grasped for it, but his fingers could barely graze.

You needed to get closer, and you would have given up anything to do so. To save Peter. But you didn't have a chance to make a deal. To give anything.

Tucking your arms by your sides, you tried to gain speed again. You weren't going to stop trying until you had either succeeded or it was too late. You squinted against the resistance despite having a layer of protection.

300 feet.

You were closer.

200 feet.

You reached out.

100 feet.

This was your last chance.

The web hit his forearm.

That was all you needed.

You were pulling Peter up as fast as you could, fighting against time and gravity.

50 feet.

A strangled cry left your mouth as you clamped your hand around his and you pulled him close to your chest, a grip on him tighter than it needed to be but simultaneously a necessity.

20 feet.

Peter's arms wrapped around you with all his strength and you yelled in pain as the web you shot grew taut and you swung barely above the traffic of the New York streets, holding the weight of two people. You refused to think about your pain and you kept going. You kept swinging. And you kept pulling Peter closer to you just to make sure he was still there. Because you'll be damned if you lost him now.

You didn't stop swinging until the relief began to set in. And when it did, it crashed over you like a wave. It nearly knocked you over.

You were still in Staten Island, but you didn't know where you were as you landed on the closest flat roof you could find. You stumbled as your feet connected with solid ground, but Peter was more important. You made sure he had his footing before you let go, tumbling to the ground from exertion and rolling before you forced yourself up.

"Y/N--"

As much as you wanted to hear his voice, you cut him off as you looked for the injuries he'd sustained. Your hands turned over his arms, checking for cuts or bruises. Then they travelled up until you were holding his face in your palms, your fingers running softly under his eyes and over the angry welt on his cheek he had just gotten from the pistol. You didn't realize you were shaking until you felt Peter's hands on your own and you gulped back a sob.

There was no protest as he pulled off your mask and let it fall to the ground by your feet, but with it fell the already broken barrier that contained your emotions.

"I'm so- I'm so sorry, Peter," Your voice trembled along with your lip. "I'm so goddamn sorry. I should have-- I shouldn't have--"

"Hey," the word was soft spoken and only a single word, but you immediately understood what Peter meant. Stop. Stop apologizing. Stop blaming. Stop and wait.

You wanted to hug him. You wanted to hug him and never let go. You also wanted to kiss him against your better judgment. You wanted to do something as one last reason to solidify that you had done it. That you saved him. That he was standing in front of you real and alive.

But instead the both of you just stood still, breathing heavily, faces held in each others hands.

It wasn't a minute past before you leaned your forehead to his, needing something more and deciding on the compromise. You just stood, eyes closed and silent. Grateful that he was alive. Grateful that he hadn't been hurt too badly. Grateful for that in this moment, you could hold him in your arms. Because you weren't sure if you would be able to do it again.

Peter's breath hitched in his throat and you didn't know if you were prepared for what he was ready to say. The amount of courage you had was thin, and while you were ashamed, you weren't prepared to lose Peter again so soon.

"Let me bring you home." You blurted before he could get a word out, pulling back and avoiding his eyes. The eyes that you loved to get lost in. Your voice dropped. "May and Ben have to be worried sick. They need to know you're alright."

"Y/N, please--"

"Peter, I can't." You admitted defeatedly. "I can't hear what you're gonna tell me. I know I messed up and I messed up bad. Just...give me time before I have to face the consequences. Wait until you're healed and feel better. Please? At least...at least give me that?"

He hesitated, but Peter ultimately nodded, his hands slipping from your face.

"Take me home."

•••••

Three minutes.

That's how long you have been standing outside of Peter's bedroom door. Trying to decide. Trying to work up the courage to knock. Trying to piece together what you might say.

You thought the hard part was over. You were the hero. You saved the boy. But you were a fool for ever thinking so. Because once you stepped through that door, once you gave the explanation Peter deserved to have had since the beginning, it would be the make or break of you and him. You would either lose him, or have to stabilize the rocky foundation of your relationship that was left.

It had been three days since that night. You had seen each other, of course. His aunt and uncle had brought Peter to the hospital the second after you had brought him home as Spider-Woman, and once he was finished talking to the police, they called every single person they knew - including all of his friends. It had been a very crowded hospital room, but a joyous one. Then you'd seen him in school. May had tried to stop him from going, but Peter was insistent he was okay and that he didn't want to skip a few days and fall behind.

If you were being honest, you were scared to make the first move. You had wanted to give him - and you - enough time to process and think after everything that had happened. Not that any of that time seemed to help you. The boy had always been smarter and quicker to adapt than you ever were, so hopefully he lucked out. It was Peter that had called you last night and asked for you to come over after school. The call was the first one since the day the two of you argued and it showed. Neither of you seemed to remember how to speak, and it was very awkward and straight to the point.

Your stomach churned that night as you slept and continued up until this very moment. You had no way of predicting the future. You didn't know what was going to happen once you knocked. What was going to be when you left the Parker's.

But there was no point in procrastination now, Peter already knew. The only thing you could do now, was to knock on the door to the bedroom you've been in a million times before and face reality.

"Relax," you muttered out loud to yourself, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as you raised your arm to knock.

The door swung open before you could finish and you paused mid-air as you jumped a little. You were so caught up in being worried that you didn't even realize that Peter was standing on the other side, waiting for you the entire time you stood there.

You dropped your arm as you looked at the boy in front of you. He looked good, you thought, as if he didn't always look good - you pushed away those particular thoughts. But you were glad to see he was nearly fully healed. There was a bandage on his cheek where the welt was was, but you know that had been the worst of his injuries. His black eye had almost faded to a harmless yellow bruise, and his split lip was completley gone, spare where it was still slightly swollen. You only glanced quickly, not wanting to complicate things even more by getting caught staring at his lips.

Peter's cheeks flushed when he registered just how quickly he had answered for you, you assumed, and his eyes darted quickly to the nearest spot that wasn't you. Offering a small smile, you gestured to his face.

"New glasses - they suit you." They were close to the same, except the darker frames had contrasted better against his hair.

"Huh?" He looked up before he shook his head and recalibrated himself. "Oh, yeah, thanks. I kinda had to get a new pair. The old ones went...somewhere...when I was..."

You tensed at the memory. "Yeah."

The two of you stood silent, the tension growing quickly. This was the first time you had been alone together in a while if you didn't count the Spider-Woman encounters, and to say there was a lot to sort out would be an understatement.

Peter had stepped back though, silently inviting you in, and you accepted. It wasn't until you were actually inside that you began to ache for what was. What you could only hope would still be. The sleepovers, the late night test cramming, blanket forts, everything. You had so many memories in just his room alone with Peter, and you weren't ready for the chance that you might not make any more.

He sighed as he closed the door behind you. You didn't know if you were expecting him to sit next to you as you settled on the edge of his bed, but it still panged in your heart that Peter would rather pull his desk chair in front of you, rather than to take the empty spot by your side. You couldn't blame him. If the roles had been reversed, you probably would have done the same.

"So..." Peter began, trailing off quickly.

"So." You parroted, wishing you knew what was going on in his head. That you could know what was going to come out of his mouth so you could be prepared.

"You're...you're Spider-Woman." He finally said after a stretch, his voice quiet.

"I'm Spider-Woman." Not that he needed the confirmation. "Is that- Is that okay?" You cringed as you spoke the words, but truthfully, you didn't know what else to say.

"I--" Peter frowned. "That's not really a fair question?"

You stayed quiet. You really weren't prepared for this. If only things had worked out the way you had planned them. If you had the chance to tell him after the movie. Granted, you still hadn't had a plan then, but you were still in more control of the situation than you were now. But that didn't happen. What did happened instead. And now you were here. You had no choice but to deal with it.

"Look, I-- Y/N, I can't just tell you to stop being Spider-Woman, what kind of friend would that make me?" Peter sighed again, and you looked up to see his eyes moving around as he was trying to find the words to say. "I just...I guess the first thing I want to know is why you waited so long before you decided to tell me."

This was something you thought you knew. This was a question you could answer.

"At first, I was afraid that telling you would put you in danger." You scoffed, realizing just how good that did. "Afraid that if you knew, than you would be a bigger target for any enemies I might've made. Because when I first got these powers, I had big plans. Unrealistic plans. I would become such a great hero, that villains would fear me and the people would love me. By the time I realized it was gonna be a lot harder before I ever reached that status, it had already been a couple of months. At that point...at that point, Peter, I was just scared that you would be angry with me for not telling you the first day. And from there, it was a battle between those things. Between not wanting you to get hurt because of me, and knowing that the longer I waited, the worse it was gonna get."

"It...had nothing to do with trust?" Peter asked softly, and the question shocked you like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down your shirt. "That you didn't think I could keep your secret?"

"Y-you thought I didn't trust you?" You couldn't believe you heard him right. "Oh my-- No! Peter, I've never trusted anyone more than I've ever trusted you! It was my fear that kept stopping me, and only my fear. It never crossed my mind that you would tell someone else. I know you, and I know what secrets you can keep and which ones you can't."

Peter stared down at his hands, and you felt your heart drop as you witnessed him shrink into himself. It seemed insane that after all this - after everything - that Peter found a way to blame himself for your mistakes. It almost hurt as bad as being the reason he almost died.

You hesitated before slowly rolling forward. You didn't want to overstep any bounds Peter might have instated, but you just needed to be closer to him. Pulling your hand back, you stopped yourself from reaching out to his.

"Peter, none of this is your fault. It's all mine. From the very beginning. God, please don't blame yourself, I don't know if I could ever live with that. You did nothing wrong, nothing is wrong with you, you're absolutely perfect. It's me...I'm the problem."

"No," Peter shook his head. "No, you're not the problem, you've never been a problem. You're the one who's always been perfect." Then a dry laugh escaped his throat. "And you still are. Look at us. All my life, no one has ever glanced at me twice. I'm the nerd barely anyone wants to associate themselves with. But you? You're beautiful, and smart, and a superhero. How could we be any more different?"

"Hey, you don't get to make this about me." You stated firmly, pressing down the part of you that so badly wanted to acknowledge how Peter saw you. This was not the time to be getting butterflies. "We've always been friends because we're the perfect combination of being both different and exactly the same. What you think of me, I think of you, and that's a fact. Superhero and all. I never doubted you, Peter. I never thought I couldn't trust you. I've just been scared." You bobbed your head, your gaze dropping. "All of this happened because I was scared. And if I'm being honest, I'm still scared. Because I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if we'll still be friends when I walk back out that door. I don't know if by being scared, I ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want us to work out so bad, you've got no idea. But I would understand if anything that I was the one who betrayed your trust. I would understand...I would understand if because of that, you wouldn't want to be friends anymore."

You stilled when you felt Peter's hand cover yours, and your head shot up to find his eyes trained dutifully on you. "Losing you would be my worst nightmare. In no universe, could I ever leave you. No matter what happens."

That was all it took to cause your eyes to tear up. From relief, from happiness. You were surprised you didn't break down sobbing right there because of it. The certainty in Peter's voice. The comfort from his touch. You squeezed his hand back, and you quickly wiped away a tear when Peter smiled.

"I...I do have something else to say. While we're coming clean, and all that." He then said quickly, his entire demeanor changing as fast as you could blink, his smile becoming nervous.

"Yeah," you shook your head. "Yeah, go ahead. I'm listening."

"So um, you kinda said something that day at the movies? Uh, something that I've been thinking a lot about lately. That you-- that you loved me?"

Your chest constricted and you could have sworn your heart stopped for a beat. "Peter--"

"No-- wait! Just wait. And listen. If I stop talking now, I don't think I'll ever be able to bring it up again." He cut you off, and you shut your mouth, nodding. "Look, I-I don't know if you meant it in the way I want you to have meant it, whether you just said it as friends because we have a lot over the years, or if you meant it as something more, but I just need to tell you right now that I love you too. And not just as friends. I...I have for a while. I used to think it was impossible for you to ever feel the same way, but considering the fact that you have literal superpowers and beat people up in your spare time, I'm not entirely sure what is and isn't possible anymore."

He let out a sharp breath and rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, just taking a break. You knew he wasn't finished, so you waited. You could tell how worried he was to admit this to you, and you didn't want him to think something that wasn't true.

"I'm not- Y/N, I'm not asking you to feel the same, o-or even expecting it, if I'm being honest. But I just needed you to know." He started nervously bouncing his other hand off his knee. "I know we're just kids, so If you don't, you can just forget this and I won't make anything weird, I promise. But if somehow you do--"

"I do." You couldn't stop yourself from speaking then.

"You-you do?" His hand froze and he held your gaze, unblinking.

"I do, Peter," you let out a small laugh as his smile grew. "For-- I don't even know how long."

"That's...awesome."

"Yeah. It's awesome."

"Shut up," Peter said as he saw your grin, pushing you back a little before he immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you and the chair toward him again. "So does this..."

"We're good?" you asked softly and Peter grabbed your other hand.

"We're great."

"Good," Then you smiled nervously. "Because I also have to tell you that Cindy knows I'm Spider-Woman too--"

"What--"

"--It was an accident andI'lltellyouaboutitlater, please don't be mad at me?" You offered a slightly forced grin and Peter just leaned his head forward, shutting his eyes.

"Just promise me you won't shut me out from your superhero side again?"

You met him in the middle, pressing your head to his, before you just gave in and got out of your seat, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Promise."

"Good. Because I think there's some stuff about that guy you really need to know, and I wanna help."

You hadn't wanted to pull away just yet, but you did. "Pete, I don't want you getting hurt again."

"We're a team, you and me," He motioned with a finger between your bodies. "We've always been a team. I'm not letting you do this alone anymore, okay?"

"Okay." You brought your hand up to his face and his cheek twitched. You felt yourself leaning forward and you weren't going to lie, you were going to ask Peter if you could kiss him, but then you stopped. His skin warmed under your touch as he blushed, and you gave him an awkward smile as you sat back in the chair.

"What was- I thought you...?"

"Shh," you chuckled. "Ben's coming down the hallway. He's gonna knock in three...two..." You held up your finger as the knock on the door came, followed by his uncles voice.

"How's it going in there? Anyone want some food? I'm cooking."

Peter looked with wide eyes between you and the door, excitement bubbling under his skin. "You gotta show me what else you can do." He whispered before answering, his smile growing on his face. "Yeah! We'll be out in a sec."

"Don't worry, you're bound to find out. Until then," you stood up and offered your hand. "We eat."

"And later, we'll be superheroes."

"We'll be superheroes."

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

peter parker x reader | 4.4k

note: homestretch

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right

Refill [Right]: Recommended

Karen's voice buzzed in your ears, reading the words that flashed red in the corner of the screen aloud to you.

You dismissed her.

                                                         •••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: Imperative

Refill [Left]: Recommended

You ignored it, pushing on. New York City was huge, and you were only one person.

Assuming he was still in New York.

                                                          •••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: Danger

Refill [Left]: Imperative

You sent Cindy to voice-mail for the fifth time in a row. You couldn't get distracted. You thought you caught a trail.

Muting Karen was also the only way to get her to stop speaking.

                                                           •••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: EMPTY

Refill [Left]: Danger

The empty click of your webshooter seemed to echo in your ears. You knew this was coming, having not heeded any of the warnings.

You felt the black hole of defeat begin to form in your gut as you reluctantly gave up, using the rest of your web-fluid to zip across rooftops when you needed to. Back in the direction of the backpack that had your civvies.

You were moving fast, but it stung as you retraced your steps back. You were going to have to start at square zero again. Completely helpless; hanging on to the whim of a mad man.

                                                            •••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: EMPTY

Refill [Left]: EMPTY

You stumbled on the broken pavement of the alley, making it back just barely with the rest of your resources.

The sun was rising proudly in the sky, casting and orange glow over the city in cloudless wonder. It would have been beautiful; you would have stopped to look if it were any other day, maybe even perched on the Empire State Building for the best view.

But you were too shrouded in the darkness of your reality to care. To even see it.

You had gone through all of the web-fluid refills that were clipped on your belt over the course of the night. You hadn't eaten. You hadn't slept. Only searched. Swinging through the boroughs of New York City in a wild craze, Peter's parameters set into your scanners, trying to get even the smallest hit of him - his voice, his heartbeat, his hair, his clothes. Anything.

But you came up with nothing in the end.

There was one time you thought you had found the car he was taken in, but you had just wound up scaring a couple of innocent frat boys preparing for spring break. No doubt earning yourself a brand new story for J. Jonah Jameson to rant about on his radio show.

It wasn't until you consciously realized that you were in the place where you had last saw Peter, the place where you had let him get taken away, that you remembered he had your bag. Wherever he was. Being held captive.

You nearly swallowed your tongue, suppressing yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs and falling to your knees. Your eyes burned like you were crying but no tears tracked down your face. Your throat was dry and scratched every time you gulped.

On the left side of the screen in your mask, Cindy's picture filled the corner as she attempted to call you again.

Feeling the black hole grow bigger, you didn't seen any option other than to fall into it.

                                                           •••••

She had already left her window open and was sitting on her bed, waiting patiently for you. Cindy was always a better actress; not as free with her emotions as you were, but you've seen her at her worst. And this was pretty damn close.

You barely had both feet on the floor of her bedroom before she stood up and barreled into you, hugging you so tightly it almost felt suffocating.

You tried to find the comfort in the action, but you could feel yourself failing. You didn't deserve it.

The cool air of being inside hit your face like you were dunked in a bucket of ice water as Cindy peeled off your mask, bringing it to your attention just how much you had been exerting yourself. She was talking quietly, but you couldn't hear her over the pounding in your head. Migraine throbbing and mixing in with your unfliltered senses in the worst possible way. You weren't focused enough, so everything was both too loud, too bright, but also not loud and bright enough at the same time.

You were sore everywhere. Everything hurt. The room was spinning. It was getting hard to breath.

"Help,"

The word was a slurred whisper, and you had only seen double of your best friend, concern troubling her expression before you blacked out.

                                                         •••••

You woke up with a jolt, bolting upwards and raking in breaths however you could get them.

You hadn't dreamt. There was just nothingness. A fade to black. But it was just as bad as a nightmare. You had been left alone with your fears. Your worries. Inside your head, where they could torment you the most.

Cindy was by your side in a moment, and you could hear her beating heart. You had scared her when you woke up, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she kneeled on her bed where you were resting and grasped your shoulders.

"Y/N, you're okay," she said softly, "You're here with me. But you need to calm down."

Your brain couldn't seem to comprehend those words - calm down.

You grabbed her arm back, chest still heaving, careful not to hurt her with your strength.

"Peter-" you choked out his name, the only priority on your mind. "I need- Peter- What time is it?"

Cindy tried to stop you from getting up, but you did anywhere. You ignored the protests from both your best friend and from your body, pleading you to sit back down.

"Almost six in the morning," she finally relented, knowing it was no use trying to get you to listen to her.

You stumbled to the window, wiping away any trace of sleep from your eyes and staring outside. Sure enough, the sun was proudly making its way into the sky.

You were wasting time.

"Where's my suit?" You asked as you stared down at Cindy's clothes on your body. "I gotta-I need to refill my webshooters, dammit!-I need it. I gotta go."

"You aren't going anywhere until you tell me what happened last night!" Cindy demanded although she stood up and grabbed a pile of fabric from her desk you assumed was your suit, holding it securely in her hands.

You didn't want to tell her. You didn't have the time. You needed to get back out there. You needed to find Peter before he got hurt-more hurt.

But as you stood across from Cindy, racing heart and twitchy nerves, you realized that she deserved an explanation as well. She looked pale from anxiety, with darkening circles under her eyes. But she still held her place firm. You had caused this-caused her worry-and how much guilt were you willing to keep piling up on yourself if you continued to hurt the people you loved?

"Did you sleep?" You gulped, hating yourself for being the core reason so many problems were unwinding out of control.

Cindy looked away, answering with a quiet "No." She glanced at her bedroom door before stepping forward. "You never came back to us, and then Peter ran after you, and-and there were more gunshots-God, what were you thinking? We all tried calling you-both of you-but only got sent to voice-mail. We were so scared."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "I shouldn't have-It was a trap-"

You gasped, your chest tightening and the feeling of being unable to breathe coming back.

"Y/N," Cindy appeared in front of you, her voice soft yet forcing you to look at her. "What happened?"

You pulled at your hair, trying to find the words to say. Trying to ignore the voice in your head that told you that you were just wasting time. You were running out of time.

Instead, you took a deep breath. It was choppy and you had to try a few times before it became even, but you finally calmed yourself down enough to think straight for a second.

"It was a trap," you repeated, "It was all planned.. They wanted me. Wanted to-to hurt me. Spider-Woman was probably interfering with their business, I-I don't know. But they-they took Peter. They took..."

You had to stop yourself. You couldn't afford to break down again.

"Peter got kidnapped?" Cindy gasped, her voice full of horror. "Oh my...holy shit."

She reached out to console you, but you pulled away from her hand. You didn't deserve it. Not right now.

Pulling at your face, you fought the urge to scream again. You needed to keep your head clear. You needed to think. To be smart while you tackled the problem.

Cindy blinked, and then suddenly she seemed to be on the same wavelength as you, her face snapping set into determination.

"Forget about Peter." She said suddenly.

"What?"

"I said forget about him. Forget they took Peter. Think-think about this like its a hostage situation at a...a bank or something."

"Cindy-" you began to argue, but you were slowly seeing what she was talking about.

"Whoever they are, they made it personal by taking Peter. Whether they knew it or not." They did. "So you can't act on impulse, you won't make the right decisions. You need to think about this and make a plan. What about-what about the Avengers?"

"I can't." You shook your head. "He said it has to be me and only me. He'll kill Peter if I don't come alone."

"Okay. Well then, that's all the more reason you need to think straight." You could hear the hesitancy in her voice from the fear she was trying to suppress, just as you were, but Cindy was also trying to extend confidence to you. As you stood next to her, you tried your hardest to let it in.

"I have no information." You admitted. "I don't know where he is. The only thing I can do is wait for him to reach out to me. How did I let this happen?"

This time you let Cindy approach you, but mainly because you had no choice. The girl grabbed your face and focused your attention on her, a fire in her eyes. "Listen to me Y/N: you didn't know. You'll have your fair share of blaming yourself for things later, but it wasn't your fault that they took Peter. You were in no control of that. The only thing you can do now is to save him. And that's what you do, isn't it? You save people. Every day. Now, are you going to let me continue to lecture you into sense, or are you going to get Peter back?"

You didn't know how many times Cindy was going to be your voice of reason in your life, but you were sure this wasn't going to be the last.

The air in the room was grim, the consequences hung thick above your head, but through the dark, there was a sliver of light. And that was all you needed.

"Do you still have that emergency web fluid I stashed here?"

                                                         •••••

Whoever he was, the man was smart, you'll give him that. Not that you found any consolation in the revelation.

The first thing you did once you had suited up was order Karen to search for and single out anything out of the ordinary such as power outages or spikes, as well as keeping an ear open for police broadcasts.

Cindy stayed at her home, but she promised to help you the best she could. You had hid while she told Nari that she was going to stay in her room for the day to practice piano and it wasn't too much of a surprise that the excuse had satisfied her mother. What was a surprise however, was the fact that Cindy had a recorded audio file of her practicing a few pieces on her phone, and after plugging it in to a speaker, it sounded like the real thing. She told you it came in handy when she wanted to read or do something else to get her parents off her back. In hindsight, it wasn't entirely surprising.

Anyway, Cindy was still in her bedroom, except you had hacked her into the CCTV footage that was now restored in the alley where you had last seen Peter, in case something popped up there.

Needless to say, he had to send a message to you somehow, and you had to be prepared to intercept it in any way it could reach you.

What wound up catching your eye-or rather your ear-was the signal broadcast Karen brought to your attention. And you were glad she did, because you wouldn't have heard it otherwise.

The frequency had to be put through three different translators for you to actually be able to hear it, and even then, the tone was still shrill and left a residue of ringing after every beep.

You knew this had to be the message somehow. You had been searching, waiting. While it was barely ten in the morning, Peter had been gone far too long. You were getting him back today, that wasn't up for debate.

It took you longer than you would like to admit for you to realize that that the beeps were not only on a loop, but were morse code. Things progressed faster from there, Karen translating as the message came in, and soon you had a set of coordinates locked into your suit's GPS.

He was still in New York.

The news brought relief to you, but you couldn't fully enjoy it. Peter had still gotten kidnapped because of you. Being held to ransom because of you.

Cindy's voice reminded you to stay calm as you told her about the coordinates. To pretend that it wasn't Peter you were saving.

It had helped at first, to try and pretend. But then it didn't. You cared for everyone, whether they were friends or family or a complete stranger. Any injury - any death - would weigh on your conscience no matter the situation and who was involved.

The reminder helped you from charging in headfirst with no plan, but there was nothing that could change the fact that it was your best friend that was in danger. The boy that you'd grown up with. The boy you had fallen in love with.

The coordinates led you to an under construction building in Staten Island. The first ten stories were complete, but the ones above only had drywall and metal beams for support. You perched a few blocks away, talking to Cindy as you scanned the building.

"I was expecting a fight," You murmured as the scan highlighted only two heat signatures, both near the top. One was definitely standing. "It looks like there's only one guy and..."

"Is one of them Peter?" You inhaled shakily. It did look like the other figure was being forced down. The odds were more likely than not.

"I-I think so."

"Okay, so the plan just changed a little. No fighting just yet, but don't let down your guard. He could have the place surrounded and ready to become a battlefield in a matter of seconds."

"Right. I should have brushed up on my negotiation skills."

"Don't let him get to you." Cindy commanded over the line. "I need to go, it sounds like someone's coming up the stairs, but keep me updated and I'll call back as soon as I can."

"Yeah." You were trying your hardest to keep the confidence you had any other time you donned the Spider-Woman suit, but it was hard. Harder than anything else you've ever faced. This was the most personal your job as a hero had ever gotten, and you weren't prepared.

You hung up with a click, and began to swing to where Peter was being held. Keeping your eyes peeled, you watched to see if anything on the ground seemed physically concerning, but all was normal. No big vans that men could come rushing out of. No traces of bombs or any other weapons. But there were cameras. A lot of them. Around and even inside the construction zone. If this guy was in control of them, it looked like you wouldn't be getting the element of surprise.

You dropped in on the upper floors anyway. Out of years of media consumption and combat experience, you knew it was always better to have the high ground.

One by one, you slowly cleared the floors, trying to get a scope of the unfinished layout of the building, when you heard the sounds of a laugh, a chair being dragged across the floor, and a partially muffled yelp. Turning the thermal scan back on, you began to panic. You moved quietly but quicker as you watched the figure drag Peter toward what would be an exterior wall. But as of this moment, it was nothing but openness.

Your lenses returned to normal as you stalked on the rafters just above the room. You could see only the tips of fours shoes from your position. One a pair of beat up converse, the other steel toed worker boots. Scared, you didn't want to move forward in case you would be spotted. But you also knew you had to. You needed to get Peter out of there and safe again. He was priority number one.

But it looked like go time was now. You had already been spotted. Just as you made eye contact with the black glass covering of a camera right in front of you, came a voice.

"Come out of hiding, Spider, we know you're here."

It was the same man from last night. The amusement that oozed from his voice fueled the part of you that wanted the satisfaction of punching him in the face.

A beat, and then you dropped down. There were monitors set up behind you all viewing live camera feed, including the one from the camera you just faced. Your stomach churned with humiliation as you realized that Peter had seen your hesitation. But humiliation wasn't an emotion you could afford to have as your eyes focused on the sight in front of you.

Peter looked relatively unharmed, spare for a black eye and a cut lip, and again, it sent a flicker of relief through you. But all color had drained from his face, and dark circles took up residence under his eyes. His expression didn't show fear, but everything else about him did. It took you a second to register why his hands and feet weren't bound, and you didn't like the answer.

Your gaze then saw the arm that was holding the back of the chair in which Peter was seated. The hand that was holding Peter up in place at an angle. Because the two front legs of the chair were tilted up in the air so that his feet were an inch from touching the ground.

And to make matters worse, in the man's other hand, he held a gun, finger around the trigger and barrel pointed at Peter's head.

You didn't like that. You didn't like that at all.

"I'm impressed." The man spoke, his face still covered with the scarf. You wanted to rip it off with your bare hands, but one wrong move and it would be game over. "We only got here about ten minutes before I got reports of your spotting coming over the bridge."

"Anyone else joining this party, or is it just us?" You decided to ask. You were trying your hardest to keep your calm, but behind the mask you wore, your eyes kept glimpsing over to Peter.

The man tilted his head. "Just us. I told you the theatrics hadn't yet started, and lucky for you, I can make a lot out of a little."

"Lucky me," you said, the words gritting through your teeth. You could practically feel Peter's gaze burning into you like a flame to a paper and there was nothing you wanted more than for this to be over. For your arms to be around him, bringing him far away from here. For him to be safe. Because it was obvious he was never safe with you. "What are the chances you'll let him go and we have some kind of epic fight that leads to your eventual time behind bars?"

"Oh no," He chuckled and Peter's eyes widened, the hold he had on his emotions slipping. You were jealous he had one in the first place, but now wasn't the time or place. "This is going to be quick and to the point. I took a page from one of the oldest books out there. An ultimatum."

You knew where this situation was going and you knew where it was going fast.

"You might wear a mask to hide your face, but we all know you use it as a shield. I know how scared you are under there. You don't want him dead, and frankly neither do I. But someone has to teach you a lesson since no one has succeeded before."

"I thought you were smart." Your voice was close to a growl, you deciding to let anger lead. Anything was better than fear.

"I am, don't you worry," He clicked his tongue. "The choice is yours, Spider. See, you either take out me, the leader of a group that has big plans for New York City, and put me in prison for a few years, or you ensure his safety, but unfortunately for you, I get away scot-free." You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something you would regret. "But don't forget your boyfriend here has had hours to prepare his last words. We spent a lot of time together, wouldn't you say? Learned a lot." The man finished with a chuckle.

Peter started shaking his head and before you could tell him to stop, he spoke. His words fast and shaky. "Y/-- I never said anything about--"

You nearly launched yourself forward the millisecond the gun made an impact with Peter's face in a sickening slap. "What did I tell you about talking?" The man hissed. "Your turn with the spotlight is over." You flinched when he leaned Peter back even more, the boy's head now clear over the edge. Once he was let go, he was sure to fall. It was rare you ever wished anyone dead, the list reserved for mainly fictional villains, but this man had just skipped himself straight to the top.

"You're insane." You attempted to speak, but you were losing what control you had and your voice trembled. The little confidence you did have was now nearly completely gone. You knew you were going to have to make a decision, and you knew which one it was going to be.

"I'm logical." He said, a correcting tone to his voice. "Come on," he then coaxed, "Make your move. We all know what it's going to be, and I have a reservation at eight."

"Don't."

Peter's voice was a whisper. A plead. And it pierced right through you like a blade.

Peter Parker had always been a boy who cared about everything. So it would only make sense that he would also be the type of person to put others before him. And he has, for as long as you could remember. Peter's heart was his biggest asset as well as his worst downfall. He thought with it as well with his brain every second of every day for every situation. You've thought more than you could count about what could have been if that spider had bit Peter instead of you. If it had chosen the next person, the boy that was standing right by your side that day. If instead of you, he had become Spider-Man. He would have been better at it than you were, you were damn sure of that.

You didn't know what he had seen in the hours he had been taken that would make him decide to sacrifice himself for, and you hated that he had seen it. That he would be willing to die so the bad guy didn't get away. So that the man that kidnapped him and hurt him to get to you would be sentenced to prison.

You didn't know what he had seen, what he knew, but something you did know was that you were going to find out.

And Peter was going to be the one to tell you.

You lifted your wrists with the purpose to yank Peter to you with one web, and to get rid of the gun with the other, but you weren't expecting the man to be watching as closely as he was. To be as ready as he was.

The sound of a gunshot rang in your ears and you had missed both of your targets.

In a moment of panic, your spider sense made time seem to slow down. You watched as Peter tipped back over the edge. Listened as his heart pounded in his chest.

Peter reached out for you, mouth open in a silent scream.

But his hand was too far away. Even as you leapt to him.

There wasn't any time to think steps ahead before you acted. You didn't know if your webs had held the man in place or not because you didn't even spare a glance when you aimed or to see if you had cemented the man to the floor or not. He was right. He knew what you were going to choose, he knew what you cared about more, and it was Peter.

It always was Peter, and it always will be Peter.

And that's why you dived after him.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Part 5

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7

peter parker x reader | 3.4k

You were the happiest you had been in weeks as you sat outside with your friends, arms linked with Ned and Cindy as you all belted out Disney songs one after the other. Each performance always ended with a bout of laughter before the process started from the beginning all over again.

The movie ended a little while ago, but the five of you shuffled through New York like a herd of sheep until you found a couple of benches around a fountain in a small park, making it into a temporary pitstop.

"Okay, okay, what next?"

"Can we expand the categories from Disney to musicals? I wanna sing something from Heathers!" Ned asked, earning cheers from Cindy and Abe.

"Wait, how creepy do you think we sound right now? Just a bunch of kids singing echoing through the park. What if someone on the other side thinks we're ghosts or something?" Ned then followed up, and you found yourself actually contemplating the odds behind your grin.

Just as Ned himself shrugged off his questions, starting to sing, easily getting you and everyone else to join in, you found Peter staring at you. Your grin grew and you gestured for him to take the seat next to you that Cindy had just left to better sing dramatically on the edge of the fountain.

You tried not to let it show just how happy you were when he quickly slid into place, linking his arm with yours the way Ned's was on your other side and closing his eyes as he threw his head back to sing.

It didn't take long for Cindy to notice, and thankfully the only acknowledgement she made was a tilt of her head.

For an amazing moment, it had felt like absolutely nothing was wrong. Everything was just like how it should be. Like how it had been. Like how you hoped it would still be.

So when the hair on your arms stood on end, a sharp buzzing thrummed deep in your brain, and you had the sudden urge to flip around toward the buildings across the street, it had hit you like a bag of bricks.

You froze while this perfect memory continued to form around you.

Peter was the first to react as you pulled yourself away from him and Ned, your thoughts growing louder and louder as they screamed at you that something bad was about to happen.

"Are you—are you okay, Y/N?"

You stumbled over the bench, quickly catching yourself. Cindy was next to stop singing. Then Abe.

"I—I gotta go." You stammered out, and Peter stood up like a rocket, reaching out to grab your wrist.

"What? Why? We don't have to get to the bus stop for another twenty minutes."

"I..." you hated yourself even more as you spoke these words, tugging your hand away from him. "I can't tell you. I just gotta— I gotta do something real quick. I'll be right back."

Everyone was silent. And Peter's tone was grim. "You're never right back. You always disappear. Right when— right when I— when we—"

It didn't take a genius to figure out that his last words were solely about his feelings about you and him.

You wanted to ignore it. You wanted to apologize again and sit back down. Bring back the cheerful singing and get rid of the creeping disappointment and hurt that was filling the air. Not only from Peter, but from everyone.

You wanted to take Peter's hand and sit back down. To tell him that he was right and that you could deal with your 'thing' tomorrow.

But your sense hadn't gone off this bad since last September. Since you thought people were going to die. Since you thought you were going to die.

You couldn't ignore this.

Cindy stepped forward as if to hold Peter back as you just turned around without a word, the others too stunned to move.

Just one minute ago, things were fine. Sixty seconds ago, things were perfect. Peter was by your side and you were happy and you were singing.

Now that time was up. And through the silence pierced the sound of six gunshots—followed closely by five screams.

Instinctively, you ducked down before spinning with wide eyes to make sure none of your friends had gotten hurt. It only took you a second to conclude that none of them were victim to a bullet and a quick scan of your surroundings showed that the shooter wasn't near them. But they were close.

Too close.

"Stay here!" You commanded, taking off in the opposite direction. "I'm gonna try and find somewhere that'll let us in!" You lied.

You could hear Peter yelling for you behind you to stay with them, but you ignored him, running to the end of the block instead.

You turned the corner with your heart nearly beating out of your chest. The people on the street were just as scared as your friends and were panicking. You used the chaos to slip into the nearest alley. Shrouding yourself in the darkness, you tugged off your backpack and grabbed the rest of your suit, pulling off your jacket, shirt, and pants and quickly shoving them in. You didn't bother webbing your bag. There was someone with a gun nearby. They weren't afraid to use it, and you needed to take them down as fast as you could.

You catapulted yourself into the air, swinging low to the halted jumbled mess of traffic to try and get speed as fast as you could. You had Karen mapping out the best path to search the mile radius of where you were when the next round of gunshots came.

You saw the bullets this time. Aimed right up into the air like they were pretending to be some kind of beacon. You hadn't even gotten too far from where your friends were; only a couple of blocks. A five minute runs away.

The location of the shooter was highlighted on a map in the top left of your eyesight and you used the roofs of the nearby buildings to get a better vantage point.

You didn't understand why they were shooting straight into the air. They were outside. Was it a scare tactic? Were there hostages? Your mind ran through the scenarios as fast as you could think of them, preparing yourself for any situation.

When you saw the shooter, he was alone.

You pressed yourself against the roof overlooking the alley he was standing in as you peered over the edge. Things continued to not make any sense. Why would someone stand alone with a loaded gun pointed toward the sky and shoot at random?

It didn't seem right to you.

Your sense buzzed louder.

"Scan for other heat signatures," you told Karen in a whisper.

"I can't."

"What?"

"There's something interfering with my sensors."

You bit back a curse. You had to go into this level headed and prepared for anything.

"Do you detect anything else? Heartbeats? Footsteps?"

It was rare that Karen heard something that you couldn't, but it was better to be safe than sorry. But she came up with zero response. Something was jamming the detection technology in your suit. Looked like you were going into this blind.

The first thing you did was web yank the gun away from the man's hand. His head snapped up to the roof you were on and he watched as you discarded the weapon up there before you webbed his arms and feet in place and flipped down, tilting him back. The only thing stopping him from falling backward was the grip you had on the fistful of clothes you had in your hand.

"You made it!" You were careful to not express the confusion you felt when he spoke, a grin breaking out on his face. "I was afraid you wouldn't show."

You looked him up and down, Karen already getting started on searching his face through every police databank to see if you could ID him.

"What do you want me for?"

"Just to talk," he shrugged the best he could with the way you had him bound.

"You wouldn't do that alone. How many of you are surrounding us?"

"Only you and me. Well, for now,"

"You and me both know that can't be your final answer as much as you might want it to be." You raised your fist, prepared to end the conversation once you had gotten your answers. "What do you want with me?"

"What does every criminal in New York want with you?"

"It might just be me, but I'm not in the mood for riddles. Personally, I think they should stay in Gotham."

The man just snorted, rolling his eyes before they steeled into a glare. "To see you suffer."

You ignored the chill that ran down your spine and pulled him an inch closer to you. "Sorry pal, but the only one suffering tonight is you."

He started to laugh, but you made sure to cut it short with a sharp punch, knocking him out before letting him crumble to the ground.

But even with him taken care of, your sense was still going off like crazy. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was still a piece of the puzzle you couldn't put together. Even someone crazy enough to be bait for something would have had some kind of plan. That was too easy.

A gasp made you spin around, prepared to attack again.

But all your defenses fell when you saw Peter standing at the mouth of the alley. His chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His glasses on the verge of slipping off his face. Your backpack grasped tightly in his hand.

"Y/N?"

All you could do was stare at him with wide eyes, the lenses of your suit no doubt reflecting the emotion. It wasn't until he took a step backwards that you snapped out of your trance, taking one forward.

"What are you—" you glanced backwards just to double check that the man was unconscious. "Peter— what are you doing here?!" You hissed, stopping a few feet away from him. He held his arm out to stop you, and the action felt like you were getting stabbed in the gut.

"You— you're Spider-Woman?" And for the first time since the hero had appeared, you saw him speak your alter-ego's name in disgust.

Everything around you was quickly becoming overwhelming. Your sense still hadn't shut off. Karen's sensors hadn't come back online. Peter was standing in front of you. He knew who you were.

"I swear— Pete, I swear I was gonna tell you. Later tonight. After—after I brought Cindy back home, I was gonna swing to your place. Peter, you weren't meant to find out like this—"

"Like what?" He glanced down at your backpack, his hand trembling. "Figuring it out only when all of the clues were displayed out in front of me like I was four years old? After I had run after you because there was gunfire and you left all by yourself? After watching my best friend put on the mask of a superhero that flings herself into life or death situations regularly?"

Peter was shaking with visible anger. It wasn't just spewing out of him with every word, it was etched into him like a carving. His eyes were lit with a fire that threatened to burn you. His fists were clenched. One of the worst parts was how despite the rest of him was moving, his face held a calm rage. Like the emotion was so strong, he didn't know how to process it—how to display it correctly in one expression.

"I ran after you because I was scared you were gonna get hurt! I might not know how to fight, but I can defend myself. And if it came to it, I would have defended you instead! I ran after you, scared I was gonna find you at the other end of a gun, but instead I found out the real reason you ran. You're Spider-Woman. You have been all this time! You have been all this time, and you never told me."

"Peter..." all your words but his name died on your tongue. You couldn't speak. You didn't know what you could say to fix all the damage you did. You knew it wasn't going to be pretty, but it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

You had seen Peter cry in the past, but it was never like this. Never because of you. Tears streaming down his face as he kept you the fixed target of a glare that shredded you down to your very basics.

You attempted to move forward, but Peter had made it very clear he didn't want you near him. You could almost see him making his decision. To turn and walk away or to stay. You could see which way he was leaning.

And you made the mistake of thinking things couldn't get any worse.

His eyes had only flickered away from you for a fraction of a second, but he had seen something that made fear flash in them clear as day.

Your head buzzed loudly, screaming at you to turn around.

You knew it had been too easy.

Just as Peter shouted, you turned around to see what he had. The side doors to the buildings you were in between were slammed open, and out filed twenty people dressed in black, all armed with guns pointed at you.

You had walked right into a trap.

You could hear Peter's heartbeat pick up behind you, and you wanted to turn back to him. To try and tell him it was okay. That you would save him. But there were so many guns and you didn't want to take your attention off them for one second. Peter was only human.

"Did you two finish your moment?" Someone in front of you taunted and a sick chuckle rippled through the crowd.

"Get out of here," you told Peter in a low voice. The last thing you were going to do was get him hurt in a physical way. You had already done past your limit to him mentally and emotionally. "Now."

"No one is going anywhere," that same person announced and you saw one of the people cut away the webs on the original shooter and with another, helping lift him up. "Let's have a chat!"

You stayed silent. You tried to gage where Peter was behind you, and you shifted to shield his body with yours the best you could before you heard a chorus of guns cock and you held up your hands.

"We won't kill the pretty boy here as long as you do what I say." Another man stepped forward, and your eyes darted to his face so you could try and get a match somewhere. But he was smarter than his bait counterpart, and wore a scarf. "Like our friend here so kindly explained before you sent him to a fitful sleep, all we want to do is see you suffer."

"If you were going to be as theatrical as this, you could have at least said something different." You gritted through your teeth.

"We haven't even gotten to the theatrics yet, Spider. I promise you'll see them later." You hated the certainty of his words. In his voice.

Your eyes darted around to try and find something. Anything you could use to try and get yourself out of this mess. You were afraid if you told Karen to contact Tony that they would shoot. You were afraid if you even did anything, they would shoot. You might have been able to dodge bullets, but Peter couldn't.

All you could find were small devices on the hips of some of the people in front of you, tiny lights blinking green in the dark. The only thing you could think of was that they were some kind of frequency jammer. That's why you couldn't detect them. And all of them definitely weren't there the whole time, you would have heard all of them. There must have been a microphone somewhere.

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to move forward with the plan so quickly. The goal tonight was only to get a tracker on you. But hey, it looks like our actual target brought himself to us!"

Peter? You refrained from saying his name out loud, biting down on your tongue to stop it— and a bunch of stuff that no one would want to hear— from slipping.

"I'm sure you've worked it out already. If you haven't, it's sure to become clear soon. If you don't mind, I'm gonna spare the fine details so you can't work out a plan just yet. I'm not the monologuing type." The man winked before he motioned for people to move forward. Six, by your count. They moved right past you, and this time you could stop yourself from turning around.

Peter's eyes caught yours one last time, wide and bright and screaming a silent plea for help as he was surrounded and forced to move.

You were lunging forward on instinct, but the sound of another gunshot made you freeze.

You tore your eyes away from the divot now in the ground by your foot.

"Hey now, I told you to listen to me!" You could feel the sobs begin to well up in your throat as you watched Peter being dragged away. You needed to see where he went, even if every step further away he got was like another stab; the blade twisting in your heart. "I told you: if you don't want him dead by morning, you need to follow instructions. Now. Turn around."

You hated that you were being manipulated into compulsion. That you were playing this lunatics game. But what other choice did you have? With one command, Peter could die. You hated that you were so helpless.

"It's simple, really. You're just gonna stay here until you're allowed to leave. I'm sure you'll know when. Of course, it won't be until me and lover boy get somewhere safe, but I think that speaks for itself. If I hear you try anything funny, including calling any of your other superhero friends, that's a bullet in a limb of my choice, understood?"

He took your silence for an answer. "Great! I'll see you tomorrow then, Spider."

The man tipped an imaginary hat and you forced yourself to not watch him as he disappeared from your view.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes you stood still, held at gunpoint, before you saw a woman tilt her head toward a walkie talkie perched on her shoulder.

That was the go ahead. You just knew it. As if every gun being repositioned into an attack stance didn't give it away.

You immediately sent yourself airborne, knowing that it would be your only advantage. From there, it was a deadly game of picking and choosing the right moments to strike. Dodging gunfire and picking lackeys off one by one until they were all no longer a threat.

You heard the sirens of the NYPD approaching —reacting to the 911 call you were sure someone who had heard the gunfire had made— way too late. The damage had already been done. At least you had left them yet another scene for them to clean up.

You tried tracking Peter's phone, leaving the alley in a frenzied search. You had found it smashed, about a half mile away.

The only the only thing keeping you from completing breaking down was how numb you felt inside. You had never experienced fear, anger, these emotions in such a large scale. You didn't know how to process it. So the default was to not feel them at all. To not feel anything.

Nothing but the fact that kept ramming itself into every crevice of your being, scratching and clawing itself into your brain with no remorse.

This was all your fault.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6, part 7

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

peter parker x reader | 3.4k

note: 🎶 Ohhh we're halfway there! Woah, livin' on a prayer 🎶

You shot Cindy a another quick text as you walked up to her front door, telling her of your arrival before you knocked. The plans may have been made with a week and a half notice, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Especially with her parents.

A polite smile naturally made it's way onto your face as the door opened, expecting to see Nari Moon, Cindy's mom. But when it opened to reveal her brother Albert, you couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes, your smile turning into an already amused smirk.

"You know, I'm much better company than my sister," he started, leaning up against the doorframe in a manner you assumed he thought was cool. It wasn't. Not like you were going to tell him. The memories gave you a good laugh on a bad day. "We could go to the movies together instead, say hi to your friends, then snag some seats in the back. I'll pay for the food!"

"Almost tempting." You said, making sure the sarcasm was heavily accented. For years, Albert had been flirting with you, and for years he never got past square one over your favor for a certain Peter Parker—not that anyone knew that but Cindy.

Still, he wasn't a bad person, and actually a great friend. Not many guys you knew would lay off once you said no, but Albert did and you always viewed him differently because of that. In a sense, he sort of became your younger annoying brother too.

You saw Cindy descend the stairs from her room, and your smile brightened at the sight of your friend, dressed and excited to spend time away from her easily overbearing family.

But as always, whenever you came to pick her up, her mom had to see her off. Following close behind, Nari was oblivious to her daughters expression, but you could probably bet money she knew nonetheless.

She was a good mom, but she also was a firm believer in thinking that Cindy was taking her natural abilities for granted, and they and her presence would be of better use doing something she deemed practical such as piano lessons or the Decathlon team for instance. But over the years she slowly softened up. Letting Cindy join the hockey team, and go out more and more with you and the rest of her friends.

It was a bit of a journey, getting Cindy's parents to trust you. Albert Sr. was easy enough, but it took a little more convincing for Nari to see you as a suitable friend for her daughter. Especially when she saw you on more than one occasion with fading bruises, and paired with your confident demeanor, believed for a time that you were going to force Cindy into some kind of gang. Most of the times the two of you hung out were at the Moon residence and supervised. It wasn't until Nari realized that Cindy had called you while she was having a panic attack. You had shown up, knocking on the door, in less than ten minutes. You had apologized after, but out of breath, you had pushed past Albert Sr., and ran into Cindy's room to help her calm down and manage the input of information that was overwhelming her. That was when Nari had put her full trust in you, and realized that making Cindy study incessantly took greater toll than she had initially assumed.

But just because she trusted you didn't mean that extended to the rest of the Decathlon team—namely Peter, Abe, and Flash (even though the chances of you guys hanging out with him were low. Most of the time, he had 'better things to do'). The only problems she would run into would be Flash's sometimes over the top annoyance.

"Good afternoon," you greeted with a smile, ignoring the irritated glance Cindy sent to your backpack.

"Go finish your homework, Albert." Nari shooed him away, and both you and Cindy smirked as he let out a loud sigh and turned around on his heels. "It's nice to see you, Y/N. You don't come over too often anymore."

A carefully crafted plea to stop leading her daughter out of the house so much.  You could understand. And because you knew you were going to need it soon, you felt like indulging. "I was actually thinking about asking if it would be okay for me to sleep over soon?"

"I'm sure that could be arranged." Nari gave you a tight lipped smile before Cindy leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thank you so much for letting me go, Mom."

"Yes, well, you know the rules." She said curtly.

"Of course."

"I'll have her home by ten," you grinned, and Cindy playfully grabbed your hand and swung it between the two of you.

Nari just nodded her head, and the both of you turned around to wave goodbye, shutting the door behind you.

Cindy's happiness was masked by her frustration after the both of you had walked a a little bit away from her house. You knew it was coming, and you knew it had to happen before the both of you reached the public bus stop about three blocks away. And she lived in a relatively quiet neighborhood, so you were the only ones on the street.

"There better be no other reason to you bringing your suit other than you telling Peter!"

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut and looking away from where the sun was setting. "I'm not telling Peter today. Not when all of us are supposed to be having fun. I don't wanna ruin the night for him!"

"So you thought it would be smart to bring the Spider-Woman suit to a public place like the movie theaters, where the lights get turned off and it'll be easier for people to steal your bag?" She hissed, obviously displeased.

"Technically, I only have the mask and gloves in there. I'm wearing the suit underneath." As if it was going to make things better, you pulled back the sleeve of your jacket to show her the webbed fabric. "I just needed a place to put my clothes when I changed out of them."

You just stayed silent as Cindy glared at you. You could feel the shame well up inside, but you tried your hardest to gulp it away.

"Look, I know I need to tell him, and I will, I just haven't figured out how yet. I—"

"It's been almost a month since things went downhill between you two!" She interuppted in a small burst of anger, gently grabbing your arm and stopping you from walking. "You do realize that it doesn't matter how you tell him at this point? That the longer and longer you wait, the more of a negative impact revealing the truth is going to have? And do you see just how paining it is watching your relationship unravel from an outside point of view is now? You and Peter have been best friends for years. Longer than even we have. Are you really going to throw that away because of procrastination?"

Cindy looked down at her feet and took a deep breath. "Look, Y/N, I care about you and Peter so much. And I know just how much you love him too. You think you feel horrible now? Just wait until you drift so far away from each other that its like you're complete strangers! And the worst part is gonna be that you'll be suffering for years. The both of you will be! Because neither of you want to lose each other. So you'll just keep stringing along until that string eventually breaks.

"I knew that this was going to happen the day I found out. That not telling Peter was going make the two of you crash and burn. I never wanted to actually say the words 'I told you so', but I think my stance is more valid now than it ever will be.

"So you need to tell him tonight, whether it conviences you or not. No more of that 'I'll tell him when it's safe' crap. Because with you being who you are, things will never be safe. Not truly. You chose to be a hero, despite the potential danger. You chose because you're brave. I know you're brave. So stop being scared!"

Cindy let out one last huff before she pushed back her black hair in your stunned silence. A deep breath from the both of you, and you could feel her anger shrink away.

She was right. Of course she was right. Every single word was the truth. It cut and it stung and it hurt, but it was all the truth. You quickly wiped away the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and looked over to find Cindy looking at you with, completely composed, waiting for you to do the same.

You fell into step in the quiet, until the both of you reached the bus stop. You leaned on her shoulder until your ride had arrived, and thanked her for telling her what you needed to hear. She responded with stating that you would do the same if roles were reversed.

As the both of you stepped off the bus in front of the theater you and your friends were meeting up in, you knew what you were going to have to do.

Peter was learning the truth. All of it.

Tonight.

                                                           •••••

If someone came up to you and asked if you and your friends were really a group of sixteen-year-olds in line to go see a Disney movie, then they would be absolutely 100% correct. It didn't matter if you stood out from the families of parents bringing along their young children, you were just as excited as all the rest of them.

You tried to focus on the excitement rather than the threatening feeling of sorrow of Peter being so close to you, yet feeling so far away. You had caught each others eyes a couple of times, but the farthest you've come to communicating so far was you sending him a weak smile, in which he was a little hesitant to return.

But he did.

It wasn't even the smallest beam of what Peter's smile could be, but you still felt your heart flutter. Right now, he was chatting happily with Ned, their backs toward you, but as you waited, slowly moving forward in the line, you could catch him sending glances in your direction.

Making sure you had a good grip on the large bucket of popcorn you held, you gave your ticket to the attendant and then all of you were finding your seats in the quickly filling theater, the light from the previews making the process easier. A decent amount of awkward 'excuse me's and nearly dropping the popcorn twice (you only stumbled once, Abe the second with his bucket—in your defense), the five of you finally settled into your seats in the middle of the row, large smiles on your faces. It had been too long since you all went out like this.

You craned your head back to get a glimpse at the curls of Peter's hair, but ultimately sighed and gave up. He chose to sit on the opposite side, he obviously didn't want to talk to you. That was okay though. Because you told yourself that you were going to come clean tonight. At least you could use the time of watching the movie as a chance to both unwind and enjoy, but also to build your usually natural confidence.

You always had a bit of skepticism every time you watched a live-action remake of an animated movie you grew up loving, but you had to say, even though you were only halfway through the movie, Beauty and the Beast impressed you, was thoroughly enjoyable, and not to mention packed to the brim with actresses and actors you already knew and loved.

"Ah, my mouth is filled with so much salt right now," you heard Cindy next to you, laughing as she went to take a sip of her soda. "Damn." She shook her empty cup. "Could I have some of yours?"

"Mine's empty too." Your apologetic look didn't last long before you were smiling again. "I've been wanting to get a refill though, I'll just take yours with me."

"You sure you wanna miss some of the movie? I can go without a drink."

You just shrugged your shoulders. If you were lucky, you could be back within ten minutes. And if you went now, you shouldn't miss anything too major. "Yeah, it's fine. Here, lemme see." You took her cup and you stood up, near empty backpack flattened against your back from how you were leaning against it

"Thanks." She smiled. You were only a seat down as you started your shimmy past peoples legs before you caught the phone light of Cindy's phone out of the corner of your eye. You didn't dwell to see what she was doing, but your brow furrowed as it looked like she opened her messaging to text Ned. Why she didn't just get his attention in person, you didn't know, and didn't think to bother. It was probably nothing.

You were humming Be Our Guest quietly to yourself as you waited in the short line to get the drinks refilled when you saw a familiar boy step into the line next to you.

Peter shouldn't be able to look cute even as he was standing bored in a concession stand line. It should be illegal. But to both your dismay and personal viewing, it wasn't, and he still was.

Although you were the one with spider senses, Peter turned his head to look at you quickly as if he felt your eyes. He wore the same expression of surprise briefly before he moved up in his line. Of course his had more people but was moving at twice the speed as yours.

You tried not to look over too much more until it was finally your turn to refill yours and Cindy's sodas. You figured Peter didn't stick around and you would see him back inside, so it only made sense that you felt your heart pick up from surprise again and your feet stopped moving when you saw him waiting for you with a couple bags of candy in his hands.

One second. Two. Three.

"Hi."

You wound up speaking in unison after having waited for the other to speak up first. Another thing that was also the same was how tentative the both of you had sounded.

"I um," Peter was the first to talk again, and you wondered which demon you owed your soul to for being able to hear his voice again speak to you without hearing any underlying negative emotion. Though he did still avoid your gaze. "I figured we should walk back together. I almost got lost leaving the theater."

"Oh," you began to berate yourself for thinking he might have something else to say. Although, he was perfectly logical. The theater also seemed like a maze.

"I also wanted to talk to you." Your head shot up and your eyes widened, immediately focusing your attention on him.

"You...you did?"

"Yeah, well, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck and you could see he was biting the inside of his cheek. "Thank you...for coming, I mean."

You could hear the relief in his words no matter how he tried to hide it, and you couldn't help but to smile. It hurt to think that you missed out on so many plans because of Spider-Woman that it had become normal for Peter—and no doubt everyone else— to assume you wouldn't have shown, but it helped you feel better to know that at that same time, you were right there standing next to him.

"Of course," you resisted the urge to bump into his shoulder as the two of you started walking. Then you lowered your voice. "I promised you, didn't I?"

Peter looked up at you with his eyebrows raised and eyes rapidly searching your face; an expression on his features you weren't exactly sure how to decipher.

Then he smiled. He really smiled. Even if it didn't reach his eyes, it was still one that was paired with a light pink flush over his cheeks, and you would give anything to know how he was feeling in that moment, because you felt like you were on the path to Cloud 9. You weren't there yet, because you haven't actually won. You still had miles to go. But that smile...it told you that you hadn't lost your chance just yet.

It faded minutes before you'd have liked it too, but you kept the image in your head. It was the first one you had seen clearly in nearly a month; you were going to cherish it.

"How's—how's your arm?" Peter looked away again, and as much as you were preparing yourself to talk to him, you still weren't prepared for the change in mood.

Last time he had asked about it was the day you had let him start to slip. The day that created this rift. Peter had to know he was treading dangerous waters, but he was being careful. He had to have wanted the two of you to get back together just as you did. You wouldn't believe anything else.

"It's— yeah, it's fine." You gulped, glancing up at the theater numbers as they passed by overhead. "All healed."

"That's...that's good."

"Yeah."

You knew he wanted to say more about it. Ask more about it. But he stayed silent.

The both of you turned back into the the theater where your friends were, descending into the darkness, drinks and snacks in hand.

Then you paused.

"Peter," he spun around to face you so quickly, you almost forgot what you were going to say. "I—I'm so sorry. For everything. And I don't want to get into it right now, while the movie's still going, but I promise you, right after, I'll tell you everything you want to know. Everything I kept from you. From how much I love you to why I always seem to be hurt."

Peter's eyes lit up like saucers in the dark of the theater. A bag of M&M's hit the floor, escaping his hold. "Wait, Y/N what did you just—"

"Okay?" You gulped out the word, cutting him off, and after a moment, Peter nodded his head.

You smiled again, and it felt strained because you knew exactly what you just promised to not only yourself and to Cindy, but to Peter. There was no way you could get away with not following through now, even with the inevitable consequences. The truth was already incredibly past-due.

When you sat back down, Cindy innocently offered you the popcorn bucket like she hadn't been watching out for you and Peter since the both of you walked back in together. She only suffered a glare for a few inconsequential seconds before you dropped it. You just knew she had been the one to orchestrate you and Peter seeing each other outside, but rather than being annoyed with her taking some of the situation in her own hands, you were grateful.

Your conversation with Peter wasn't long, but it was a start. And like all things you started, you planned to finish.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won't Know Won't Hurt - Part 3

part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

peter parker x reader ∣ 2.2k

You needed to punch something.

It wasn't like you to try and solve your problems with your fists, but you were almost drowning in the emotions you were feeling, and fighting seemed like the only option viable to you through the deprecation.

You were hasty as you suited up. For the first time since you had donned the first Spider-Woman costume, you hated the way it felt. You took a deep breath as the material of the Stark suit compressed around you, feeling like it was too tight. Too clingy. Like it was hard to breathe. But you ignored the feeling as you slammed your window up. You barely gave Karen the time the A.I. needed to calibrate before you were swinging away from your home.

Pain shot through your arm as you used the damaged muscles, irritating the bruise, but you didn't care about that either. The only thing running through your brain was the voice telling you how stupid you've been. So you tuned out the pain, your driving intent anger and the want to forget about your mistakes for a while.

Going on patrol the way you felt was irrational. That was something you were acutely aware of, despite the fact that you were breaking the promise you made to yourself that you wouldn't make an appearance as Spider-Woman until you were fit to fight without any hindrances--namely, your arm. It would have back to normal in a day or so if you hadn't interrupted the healing process. If things hadn't happened the way they did.

But here you were, swinging away from your house as fast as your surroundings would let you. Your voice was rough and low from the sobs you'd shed earlier as you commanded Karen to open the hack that allowed you to listen in to the police channels. You wanted something big. Something you could use as a distraction.

It's been hours since you let Peter leave. Since you let him wait outside your doorstep for his uncle to pick him up. Since you sat on the ground to your back to the front door, the boy doing the same on the opposite side. Your tears fell in rhythm.

He didn't tell you. Peter didn't have to. You knew he was secretly waiting for you to open the door. To pull him back in and tell him everything. But you didn't. You couldn't.

In the time it took for Ben's car to roll into the driveway, you had tried to find the right words to piece together. A way to tell Peter exactly what was going on. The real reason why you were hiding things from him. Hiding Spider-Woman. But every scenario ended with him being more hurt than he already was as you played them out in your head, and you didn't know if you could take any more heartbreak. Peter didn't deserve it.

You had listened as Peter sniffed and wiped his eyes before trudging to his uncle's car. Ben had asked him what was wrong, but Peter stayed silent. The car kept still and running for the entirety of three minutes as Ben waited to be sure, giving the boy a chance to speak. You knew it had to be obvious something had happened between the two of you, and you wouldn't be surprised if the man wanted to try to help your relationship before it was beyond saving.

You've always liked Ben. He was a good man.

Then the tires had crunched on the gravel, the car engine rumbling as they pulled away. Silent. The farther they went, you could feel Peter slipping from you in more ways than one. Feel the wedge that was splitting the two of you apart in the first place being hammered down even further, creating more cracks that spidered through the structure of your friendship.

You were losing him. And it was your fault.

That night, you ignored your uncle as you entered the house again around midnight. You were in regular clothes, your suit in a backpack you kept hidden outside in case of emergencies to hide your identity from him. Even though at this point, you weren't exactly hiding your identity either, you sporting enough clues for a suspecting person to put two and two together. You didn't hide the redness of your knuckles or the bruise blossoming across your jaw, or the way you limped as you stomped up the stairs to your room. You just let his voice fade in with the others in your head that were screaming rationality at you. The ones that were telling you the way you were acting would only continue to hurt yourself, but more importantly, the others close to you.

In the moment, you didn't care. You thought it only fair to allow yourself the outburst. The NYPD should be finding ten of the city's Most Wanted strung up in a Harlem bank when they arrive on the scene. You took care of the bad guys. You stopped the robbery.

You should feel better.

But you didn't.

•••••

The group chat continued to make your phone buzz by your side. Every once in a while, you would glance over to read the notifications, but you never replied.

You loved your friends and their enthusiasm, you really did, but sometimes you just felt like you couldn't connect to their wavelength and it was just best to let them do their own thing without your contribution to the conversation.

You knew you must have looked like shit because it's what you felt like. You were basically able to feel the weight of the bags under your eyes, and it only went to further prove your hypothesis. You didn't want to risk coming into contact with a mirror.

Never in your life did you ever think you could mess something up so tremendously, but you seemed to be on a streak of your thoughts proving you wrong. It was eating you alive, and if you didn't come up with a solution soon, if you continued to let yourself give into your fears, it would leave nothing left.

You would mute the chat if it wasn't for Peter. You missed hearing his voice, even if it was only through text. Lately, he's pulled out all the stops when it came to communicating to you. He looked the other way in the halls, never acknowledged you even if you were in the same room and only a couple feet away.

The only thing that hurt more than him choosing to ignore you was the fact that you knew he didn't want to. Every time you turned your back, every time he thought you couldn't see him, you could feel him staring at you. And if you were fast enough and in the mood to continually torture yourself, you could catch the glimpses on his face. You could see just how much his--and your--actions were breaking him.

Neither of you wanted it to come to this, but being stubborn was something the both of you had been ingrained with since birth. It might not have been fair, but you knew the both of you were waiting for the other person to make the first move.

And you hated yourself for not having the courage to be that person.

Each day you waited, you held onto the foolish hope that maybe a solution would flash a SOS for you to see. That some kind of sign would give you the answer of how to magically make everything better. That you could find some kind of lucky charm into the air and everything would be fixed.

But day after day after day passed. Your friends all knew about the rift between you and Peter even if they didn't actually know. And even if they didn't understand how to make things better, you could see the concern every time their gazes flickered between the two of you during study sessions. Especially the ones that were still held in your living room.

Needless to say, you tried your hardest to leave them be and let them work when they were over. They were Decathlon study sessions, anyway. You spent most of the time in a different room until Cindy came in to tell you that Peter was gone. He started getting a ride back with Ned to avoid any confrontation. You couldn't blame him, since you were distancing yourself to do the same.

A tired yawn escaped your lips, and you haphazardly shoved your homework off your lap and messily dumped it back into your bag.

You reached to silence your phone, deciding that you would worry about school later and just try to get some sleep, when the mention of your name in a message flashed across the top of your screen. Your curiosity made you open the group chat completely. There were over a hundred of unread messages, but you just scrolled down to the last couple of ones to figure out what was going on.

Abe Lincoln Are you all ready for tomorrow?

Ded with a N You bet your assbutt i am

Moon Girl I can't wait!!

Peteawan Ye man

Ded with a N Y/N's still coming, right? Anyone have an answer?

Abe Lincoln She better. The tickets are prepaid.

Ded with a N Plus, she promised!

Moon Girl I can't go unless she's there with us, so she will be even if I have to kidnap her myself.

Peteawan Actually, i don't think i can make it guys

I got a thing that came up

Abe Lincoln That is not true.

Ded with a N Dude, I was just over at yours yesterday and you said that you made sure you didn't have any plans and I quote "so i wouldn't have to miss out on hanging out with you guys"

Peteawan I forgot about a test I have to study for on Monday

Abe Lincoln Tomorrow's Saturday...

Moon Girl You can't do this, Peter

Just because you and Y/N haven't been the same lately, you can't ditch us

Has it occured to you that maybe Y/N has some problems to deal with, and you acting like this is only making them worse?

You using them as an excuse to avoid talking to her is a crap move because at this point, the blame is on both of you for not working things out sooner.

So grow some balls and stop lying to us. You're gonna be there, Y/N's gonna be there, and that's that. Deal with it.

Ded with a NWoah

Abe Lincoln What is even going on with you two?

Cindy's right, BTW

Peteawan ...

Moon Girl I swear to God, if Y/N doesn't tell you soon, I'll tell you myself, privacy be damned. This has gone on long enough.

Ded with a N idk what just happened guys, but all in favor of asking? Because Y/N is reading all of these as they come in??

Peteawan What?

The chat went as silent as you were as you sat on your bed, reading each message as they popped up on the left side of your screen. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding until the texts stopped coming in; your friends waiting for a response.

You'd forgotten all about the movies tomorrow, but it wasn't like you had any plans other than going on patrol. That was something you could easily not do. You felt bad, but you were also angry--angry that Cindy was right. She normally was, anyway.

But the exhaustion you battled so you could keep your eyelids opened beat out any and all other emotions as your fingers typed out a message to send to the group. As you did so, you realized that you were just going to have to take on the problem headfirst. Let the words come out without any thought behind them to keep you from speaking the truth when the time came.

Gold Coin

I'm just gonna go to sleep, but I'll see you all tomorrow

I promised, after all

You closed the group chat and silenced your phone without waiting to see the responses. Fumbling for the light switch, you settled down into bed.

When your head hit your pillow, you couldn't even begin to explain the amount of relief your body felt as you finally let it rest. The past week had been non-stop patrol every moment you weren't in school. And the constant distraction from real person problems took its toll.

It only took you a couple of minutes before you allowed yourself to go to sleep, drifting unconscious with the thoughts of finally being able to get a chance to make amends with Peter. To come clean about everything--well, at least about Spider-Woman. One problem at a time.

It might be more a of a rocky road from there, but it was a start to clearing you conscience and guilt away. And hopefully--you had your fingers crossed--everyone would get better.

As your mind was busy thinking it was on the path of solving one problem, you were completley oblivious to the fact that you had another one rapidly approaching. One that--just like this one--you had brought onto yourself.

part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Part 2

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

peter parker x reader | 2.5k

prompt 19: “Is someone hurting you?”

"Hey Y/N?"

"Hm?" You lifted your head from where it was resting on the back of your living room couch at the sound of Ned's voice.

"Wanna study with us?" He asked, gesturing to the various open text books and practice packets spread across your living room floor, each in front of their respective owner.

"Nah," you chuckled, crunching down on a cheese puff from the bowl next to you. "You guys are the geniuses. I just offer the space my friends need to do their genius work."

"We're the Decathlon team. Not geniuses."

"Wait, haven't you mentioned more than once that Midtown is a 'genius school full of genius kids'?" Abe pointed out, making you open your mouth to counter.

"My point remains valid until I hear recorded proof."

"But by default, that statement makes you a genius who attends said genius school, doesn't it?" Peter tilted his head, quickly pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "So your point is pretty much moot, recorded proof or not. Because I can testify to hearing it from your own mouth with my own ears and I'm sure everyone else in this room can too."

"Damn. Why are you defending my brain so much? I can't make one self-deprecating joke?" You laughed, tossing a small handful of puffs in the boys' directions while Cindy chuckled next to you.

"Not when you've been in a mood of self hate lately," Peter sighed.

"Yeah," Ned agreed, Abe nodding along. "What's that all about? Something wrong?"

"What?" Well, this was not the turn of events you expected to come out of this study session.

You wouldn't really call how you've been actually recently 'self hate', it was, well... Okay, it might have been.

For the last week or so, you've been continuously beating yourself up about keeping Spider-Woman from Peter— your closest friend next to Cindy. The boy you knew you had to come clean to if you ever wanted to attempt to further your relationship with him. He deserved to be told the truth, if in some kind of future you would be lucky enough to date him.

You were asked more than once on more than one occasion why out of all the teenage boys in Midtown—in New York— why you chose Peter Parker.

Sure, he wasn't the tallest. Or the most athletically inclined. Peter wore glasses and had asthma. He spent his time with a nose in a book or using his hands to create something. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge, and you knew that he had a future in biophysics and biochemistry without even having to try.

You always got weird looks from your family and sometimes even Cindy when you had first told her when you started talking about how you thought he might be your first love. But what no one realized, is that what Peter lacked in what was shown to be the stereotypical high-school boyfriend, he more than made up for with his heart.

Peter cared. So deeply. He cared about everything. About the bees, about equality, representation, kids who get kicked out of their homes for their sexuality or gender, about people without a safe place to stay, about the people who can't defend themselves. He cared about you.

Peter's heart is so large, and he tries his hardest to make room in it for everyone.

You could feel him watching you. Narrowed chocolate colored eyes behind glass lenses tracking your every move, noting every word, and picking apart your body language as you spouted out a generic excuse about why you've been acting the way you were lately. Trying to throw your friends off guard and to not give away that it was because of the very boy sitting just six feet away from you that you've been hating yourself for.

You silenced yourself by shoving a couple cheese puffs in your mouth, looking down at your feet as you felt both Peter and Cindy burning holes into your face. One set because she knew exactly what was going on, and the other because he could see through you and was intent on finding out exactly what you were keeping from him.

"I feel like we've been eating all your food and using all your living space and you never complain, Y/N." Abe states, making you look up from where you were scrolling through a bunch of Twitter threads with the hashtag Spider-Woman.

"I complain." You said with a small eye roll and placid smile. "It's just that no one cares."

"I can confirm." Cindy spoke without even looking up from her paper.

"We work too hard. The five of us should go to the movies or something."

"I second that!" Ned said immediately.

"I'll ask my parents," Cindy agreed softly.

"May and Ben should be cool with it, as long as it's you guys."

All heads turned to you.

"Y/N? Movies?"

You shrugged. "Sure. If this means what I think it means and I can get out of paying my share." You grinned and earned sarcastic eye rolls from the group.

"Cool." The murmers of the plan settling rumbled through the room.

"And since you're getting into a movie for free," Peter began with another eye roll and flashing a toothy smile in your direction. One that nearly made your heart jump straight out of your chest, "you're showing up on time. No excuses!"

"Okay! Okay," you laughed nervously. "Once we set up a date, I'll put it in my calender. No excuses."

While you put on a show on the outside, you couldn't help but to feel Peter's words had a second meaning. He knows there's something you're hiding, and that thing is the same thing that causes you to show up late, or cancel plans completely. You know he has too, and it's only a matter of time before he pieces it together.

Instead, you slipped Cindy's textbook out of her lap, making the girl look up at you with a quizzical expression.

"Listen up, nerds," your eyes scanned the page on chemical reactions, "quiz time!"

                                                            •••••

"Hey Y/N, Uncle Ben can't pick me up until a little later because there was some problem with the stations power and he swears he can fix it without calling the electrician." You heard Peter behind you and you turned around to see him tucking his phone into his back pocket. "Some kind of bet going around I think. Is it— is it cool if I just stay here?"

"Oh." You blinked, barely hearing Abe say his goodbye and you absently waved a hand.

Your parents were both out. They had allowed the group of you to study, but you didn't know how they would feel about Peter being over alone — especially because your crush on him was blatant within the safety of your home's walls (they'd made you shut up about him at least three times a week).

"I can— I can call May and see if she can get off her shift early, if it's not," He said quickly, his voice sounding of slight panic and his hand reaching back for his phone.

"No!" You said, blinking your way out of the thought of being alone with him and harshly telling your brain that now was not the time to blush. "I mean, nah man, it's fine." You mentally cringed. Calling your crush man? Yeah. Peter was totally going to pick up that you were into him.

"Cool,"

"Cool." You repeated, crossing your legs under you while the couch bunched slightly as Peter sat down on the other end.

Never in your entire friendship had a moment between the two of you felt more awkward.

You were so afraid of this happening. That you would be alone with the biggest crush you've had since you knew what crushes were, and you would have no idea how to react. What to say or do. Part of you wished that you could somehow summon up the charisma you seemed to have when you wore a mask over your face, but that part of you remained behind a locked door in your brain.

You were staring at your hands, feeling the awkwardness grow thick in the air, and on top of that, Peter's gaze flicker to you every couple of seconds. He didn't know what to do either, and it was like the both of you were trapped to suffer until someone made a move.

That someone accidently wound up being you.

"It's— is it getting hot in here?" You stammered out, feeling yourself starting to sweat from the situation. "Or is that just me? I'm just gonna go check the A/C real quick."

In a matter of seconds, you stood up from the couch and unzipped your hoodie, tossing it on the couch. Your plan was to just get out of the same room as Peter, because your brain was torn between wanting to kiss him unprompted without even thinking of the consequences and wanting to tell him about Spider-Woman. Similarly, without dwelling on consequences.

You just wanted a moment to clear your mind and actually figure out a game plan on how you wanted to tackle the problem of Peter Parker (as long as it wasn't in the physical way).

But Peter, ever the concerned friend, was one to notice the second you shed your hoodie that something was wrong.

"Is someone hurting you?" He blurted, his tone a demand you've never heard come from him before. It made you freeze mid-step and you were lucky you had your back toward him so you could gape for a moment as your mind raced for an excuse.

Spinning on your heel, you turned around to find Peter standing up and only a step away from you.

Out of all the things you could say, of course the stupidest thing came out. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean', Y/N? You have a bruise the size of Texas going down your arm!" He exclaimed, and you suddenly remembered why you were wearing a hoodie in the first place. Long sleeve shirts in late spring were questionable. Hoodies were fashion.

Well, his assumption wasn't entirely wrong. Someone had technically hurt you. The kind of hurt that constituted of you getting into a fight with a bunch of Fisk's men disguised as construction workers and you not finishing up quick enough to get hit with a truck and thrown into a support beam with enough force to kill a normal person.

Now you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Could you really handle Peter's anger? Asked the small voice in your head. Or would you rather lie to keep him happy and figure it out later? If you ever allowed later to come.

"I just fell." You said quickly, snatching your hoodie back up and attempting to pull it back on. But Peter was faster than you would like to admit, and he grabbed it before you could even find the arm hole.

"That's a load of crap." He huffed out, a firey indignation in his eyes as he forced you to keep yours on his. "Y/N, I've tried to ignore all the other things thats been happening to you—the bruises, the limps, the no shows and you being exhausted in classes—I really have. But something's going on with you and it's making me worried and really scared! You don't— you don't talk to me anymore like you used to! Just...tell me what's going on... Please."

You hated to see Peter plead like this, borderline beg you to tell him the truth. You could feel your heart breaking already and you haven't even said a word. But the sad truth was that you knew it was only going to get worse from here. If there was any hope of things getting better, you knew it had to get worse.

"I'm sor—"

Peter's phone rang, buzzing in his pocket and blaring The Imperial March. You held back a small smile, knowing it was a joke between him and his uncle Ben, that Ben always wound up being the Vader to Peter's Luke during at home lightsaber battles.

"He-hey," Peter answered the call, tearing his eyes away from you and trying his hardest to mask his anger.

"It was only a loose wire!" You overheard Ben chuckle on the other end. Not that you meant too. "Secured that bad boy back in and now we're good to go. Still at Y/N's?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah."

"Okay. I'll be there in five minutes, kiddo."

"Has he fessed up yet?" Came a distant voice over the line, presumably one of the other firefighters, and Ben laughed again. You tried not to notice the pink flush that started to creep up Peter's neck as he glanced at you. He wouldn't be able to know you could hear everything over the phone. You hadn't told him.

"Give the kid a break," Ben said to the man. "He still thinks she's outta his league even though I tell him she'd be stupid not to—"

"You said five minutes?" Peter abruptly interuppted his uncle, and you wouldn't blame him for changing the subject from you— even if you now had a few questions you wanted to ask him.

"Yeah? I can make it three if you say there's some kinda emergency. Is something wrong?" Ben asked over the line, and you looked down, ashamed, as Peter turned around to hide his face.

"No. No, everything's fine. I'll see you soon."

"Alright, kiddo,"

You heard the dial tone as Peter hung up, followed by a soft sigh from the boy.

"I'm uh, that was Ben." He told you and you looked back up. This was wrong. Never in your friendship have you ever felt like this with Peter— was this what a fight felt like? "I'm just gonna wait outside."

"Peter, wait—"

"I'll see you at school, yeah?" He said a bit sharply, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder, dropping your hoodie onto the couch.

"I...yeah." you agreed, reaching out your hand but pulling it back when you realized it was no use. Defeated.

He didn't even say goodbye as he closed the door.

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Part 1

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

peter parker x reader | 1.8k

summery: falling, it turns out, can hurt more than you ever thought it could

prompt: a combined request from lovelyhollandd, iloveyou3000peter, LuckyCloverStudios on Wattpad

You used to be afraid of heights. But that was before you could catch yourself if you fell.

Never in a million years did you ever think you would be in the place you are now. That your life could change as drastically as it did from something as small and trivial as a spider bite. If you hadn't gone on that school trip — Hell, if you were even standing just another foot to the right, someone else could be in your shoes. Or worse; they could have abused the powers that have become your new normal and used them for all the wrong reasons.

It was crazy, really. You never knew something like this could happen. From all of your calculations, you shouldn't even be alive from the amount of radioactivity in that spiders venom, but then again, here you were. Living and breathing perched on a discarded billboard sign in the middle of The Bronx.

You smiled under your mask, taking a deep breath and still getting used to the freedom and new features this new suit gave you. When you first decided to use your newfound abilities to help the people who needed it, (after over a week of slipping supplies from Chemistry and Shop class) you were swinging around New York in a hastily hand sewn suit to mask your identity. The spider symbol you had drawn on your chest quickly adopted the moniker the public liked to call you: the Spider-Woman.

Not the best, you would agree, but catchy. Subtle, and to the point. It was definitely better than the first name you'd initially thought of; 'The Human Spider'.

But after only six months of becoming NYC's newest vigilante, you had gotten an incredible upgrade from none other than Tony Stark himself. Not only did he make you an amazing suit, but you got to meet — well, er, fight with and against the Avengers. To say the least (even if you did get punched in the face and thrown around a couple of times) it was the best day of your life.

You loved being a hero, but it had it's downfalls. You had learned a couple of lessons after taking down Vulture, who turned out to be your best friend Peter's crushes dad. The first was that you definitely weren't ready to be an Avenger. The second being that keeping your identity a secret was the hardest thing you ever have to do. Counting almost getting killed by a man only trying to help his family. You grimaced at the thought. It had taken almost a week for the bruises on your chest to heal from his suits talons.

But your entire chase after Vulture? Washington? You came so close to spilling to Peter.

Peter Parker. Your amazing boy— friend. Your amazing best friend. The boy who stuck by your side since the two of you met building blocks during playtime in kindergarten. The boy with the untamed curly brown hair and glasses brimmed chocolate eyes to match who also had a knack for being more perceptive than he lets on and is constantly questioning your wellbeing and is only one big brain moment away from figuring you and all of your secrets out.

The first time was when you had nearly missed catching him in the Washington Monument. Your friend Cindy had been carrying what at the time neither of you knew was a Chitauri energy core — or in other words, a bomb. It burned through her backpack and put everyone on the Decathlon team in danger. Peter, acting on the hero complex that no sane 15 year old should have, made sure everyone else got out first before him. You remember vividly Karen in your ear telling you your heart rate from your fear of dropping him as your hand caught his tightly and didn't let go until he was safe. The A.I. in your suit urged you to tell him who you were, but before you could even think about it you had fallen yourself and needed to focus on catching yourself first.

The second time was after Liz moved away to Oregon. You felt guilty, knowing that it was partially your fault. You had put her father in prison, forcing her family out of their home in Forest Hills. You felt even worse when you watched from the corner as Peter said his goodbye. You knew it must have been really bittersweet, even if Peter didn't actually tell you, just waving off your concern. Him and Liz really only got to spend that one night at Homecoming together. But according to Cindy, Peter spent a lot of that time sending texts to her asking where you were and if you were okay since you left and weren't answering your phone. So he wasn't even having as much fun as he could have.

You had just wanted to apologize to Peter for everything. For Liz, for disappearing on him for what wasn't the first time and definitely not the last. To explain everything.

Because keeping a secret from Peter was like throwing away the very last piece of a thousand piece puzzle you had constructed and watching the garbage truck take it away. The longer you waited to finish the puzzle — the longer you waited to tell Peter — the more it hurt. And you knew the longer you waited, the more it would hurt him.

You lithely hopped down onto the rooftop below you, your elation quickly dying down as you recalled your memories and feelings.

"Hey Kar?" You asked, fidgeting with the fabric of your suit. "What are the chances Peter wouldn't react if I tell him I'm Spider-Woman?"

"The chance of Peter not reacting at all would be 5%." She replied.

You groaned. "That's — that's not what I meant. I mean, like, not freaking out." You amended. "Or getting mad." A quick addition.

"That would raise probability to 25.3%."

"That's...great. Just great." You sighed, shooting a quick zip web to the next building over.

"'Great' isn't the word I would use. This hypothetical situation in which you would reveal your alter ego to Peter and he wouldn't act like that is very unlikely."

And that was a reminder to see if you could add sarcasm detectors to Karen's operating systems.

You just closed your eyes again. This time with the purpose to try and shake the feeling of culpability away.

At this point, you weren't really sure the exact reason why you were hiding your identity from Peter. You knew you were from your family because they would immediately freak out and stop you from potentially getting hurt or risking your life.

Cindy only knew because she had been waiting in your apartment for you after she got back from a secret date with her boyfriend that her parents didn't like her having. You allowed her to use spending her time with you as an excuse and the two of you had made the plan for you to meet her there after, but it had honestly slipped your mind as you crawled in through your bedroom window as to not alert your family that you were gone in the first place (they had been thinking you were studying for a test and promised not to bother you).

It wasn't until you had sat down in your desk chair and took off your mask, pulling out a small screwdriver to fix your webshooter that was having problems with getting clogged that you realized that Cindy was staring wide eyed straight at you from your bed. It was a mistake, really, but with her eidetic memory it was a memory she wasn't ever going to forget.

You told yourself then that you were keeping your identity secret to keep your friends and family safe. It was simple enough. All superheroes you read about (Avengers excluded) did it for those exact reasons. There was no way you wanted to put anyone in danger because of you.

But as time passed, you realized it was just because you were scared. Scared Peter would be so hurt, that it had reached the point where the truth would severely damage your friendship.

But you also knew Peter. He's stuck by your side through thick and thin for years, always supporting you and giving you the courage to do things you've always wanted to do. He wasn't a superhero, but he could've been with the role models of an aunt and uncle he has (both respective heroes in their own right), and he definitely was to you — in your own definition.

Your first thought wasn't ever that Peter would judge you or get mad for you having powers. In fact, you believed some part deep inside him already knew, just waiting for the wheels in his brain to turn and put the pieces together. You spent a lot of nights loosing sleep thinking about the what if you had told Peter from the beginning. He would have been excited. Right next to you the entire time: web fluid testing, suit design; all of it.

But now, Vulture was two months ago. You've had your powers almost an entire year. You were New York City's very own personal neighborhood hero. Everyone knew you. Some in a negative light, but most in a positive one.

You loved it. You wouldn't give up being a hero for anything. Not when it meant you were doing good in the world. Protecting the people that couldn't protect themselves. Helping the people who couldn't get the help they needed.

The sun was high in the sky, a heat combating with the chilly November wind, trying to fight off the cold of the oncoming winter the best it could, but you knew more than most that it was on its last legs. You were the one roaming the city in a skintight spandex supersuit and only remembered about the installed heater 12% of the time, according to Karen.

The afternoon was just starting, which meant that you still had plenty of patrol time left.

Like you always did — digging yourself into a deeper hole — you pushed away the thought of telling Peter into the furthest corners of your head. Leaving it to fester and ready up for its next swing, which, going off of the last couple times it crossed your mind, would hit double as hard as it just did now.

You told yourself that keeping Spider-Woman a secret from Peter would protect him. Not only from your enemies.

If only you could believe your own lie.

part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu #peter parker angst #angst

[thatgeekyemo]

Peach Scone

peter parker x reader | 6.9k

summery: inspired by the song Peach Scone by Hobo Johnson, so go give that a listen!

Peter Parker was a big fan of believing he could learn something new every day. Because most days he did. Like how in the battle he just came from, he learned not to taunt Lizard too much because the dude would most definitely not hesitate to stab a claw through his side.

Sneaking into a hospital as Spider-Man might not have been the best idea, but Peter was trying to keep his blood inside his body where it belonged and he wouldn't be able to do that without help. While he was pretty good at hiding most injuries from his aunt May- having spent a moderate amount of time poring over her medical books in the dark-even Peter was having trouble stopping the three puncture wounds on his side from bleeding out on his own.

He did wonder whether he would have been better off at least attempting to fix himself up on his own after he nearly gave his aunt two subsequent heart attacks - the first being when he had called her in a rush telling her to find an empty room and open the widow for him without telling her why and sounding like he was on the brink of death, and the second being when she saw the damage that had been done to her nephew and the pain he was in - followed closely after by the most worried induced lecture he had ever received in his life.

It had been worth it though, because not only did May clean him up and give him perfect stitches, but she gave him numbing medicine which was sure as a hell lot better than when Peter propped himself up in their apartment bathroom and sewed himself back together with the emergency first aid kit needle and wire with only the bathroom mirror to aid him. Definitely saved him the majority of the winces and grimaces of pain and the trouble of having to clean up blood on the bathroom sink before May woke up and found the mess.

He definitely had to thank his superhero of an aunt once they both got back home. Maybe he'd make her something to eat too.

Peter pulled his shirt over his head after inspecting the bandage on his side. He could feel the wounds were already healing nicely courtesy of his freaky spider healing and they hurt a substantial amount less than before. He could walk around without any pain, and that was good for blending in without arousing any suspicion that someone such as himself - a dorky teenage boy - could be anyone more than that even if it was true.

He was also grateful for the emergency outfits May had stashed in her car so he wouldn't be roaming the hospital in nothing but his blue checkered boxers.

Peter collapsed into the waiting room chair with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for some kind of relief from the blinking white lights and he pushed his hair away from his face.

He knew he shouldn't be waiting too long. May was almost done with her shift for the night, and then they were going straight home, probably going to snack on something, then to bed since it was nearing eleven P.M. They were both exhausted for their separate reasons, and Peter knew he was looking forward to sleeping in as much as he could Sunday morning.

Opening his eyes, Peter's eyes swept the room as he tried to think of something for him to pass the time while he waited.

He spotted you standing at the check in counter, and noticed you seemed a little out of place. You looked about his age, but you were wearing a pair of scrubs. Not the light blue the rest of the nurses in the hospital wore, but in an off white-ish cream color, with the QHC badge hanging off your hip.

You were engaging in a friendly conversation with the lady behind the counter low enough for anyone to not be able to pick up on what you were saying. Peter leaned forward and convinced himself it was his super hearing that picked up on the words you were saying and not the fact that he sort of wanted to eavesdrop because you were really pretty and he wasn't able to take his eyes off you once you smiled and laughed at something.

It was weird, this random stranger causing him to smile just at the sight of one on their own face. That hadn't happened often in his life, and after four more seconds of staring, Peter came quickly to the conclusion that he was forming a crush on the attractive not-but-is-nurse standing a handful of feet away from him.

The sound of a kid crying is what ultimately tore his eyes away from you and toward the waiting room door. Soon enough, the door opened to reveal an upset young boy with a red face from crying, struggling to walk in the opposite direction from the adult that was holding his hand.

"Aiden honey, we need to wait right here for mommy, or else we won't be able to see her," the woman plead to her boy, crouching down.

Peter saw your eyes flicker around the room and look at how basically all of its inhabitants were paying attention to her and her crying son. The woman had tear streaks down her cheeks too, but she was a lot more strong. Peter sent her a sympathetic look, knowing that her wife was probably going through something she really needed medical attention for - maybe surgery - and they wouldn't be able to accompany her until it was over.

Peter wished he could get people to stop staring. He knew how it felt to be judged, and it was horrible. He patted his pockets, hoping that maybe his spare jeans would have some kind of cash and he could buy the boy a drink or a small toy from the vending machines to help calm him down, but he turned up empty.

A figure crossed his line of vision again, and Peter realized it was you making your way to the woman and her son. He watched intently as you crouched down to the boys level next to his mom and looked at him with a smile.

"Hello," you said softly, "my name's Y/N. What's yours?"

The boy was taking hiccuping breaths too erratic to actually answer, so his mom did for him once she spotted the badge at your hip.

"I know someone named Aiden!" You gasped, grabbing the small boys attention.

"You-you do?"

"Yeah I do. He's the most brave person I know." You grinned. "Some might call him a hero. Do you wanna know why?" The boy nodded, his sobs dying down to a soft sniffling. "The Aiden I know is a tough guy, but he's also very funny, and cares a lot about his friends and family and would do anything to help them and keep them safe."

"What did he do?" The boy asked, getting closer to being calm as his attention focused on you and your story.

At this point, his mom was smiling gratefully at the you - Y/N. "Well, once, he defeated an evil wizard from trying to take over the world with nothing but a flute."

"Really?!" He gasped.

"Really." You said with a large smile that made Peter shake his head with a light chuckle and in a tone that even made him almost believe you. "He even went to outer space and fought back aliens before they could attack Earth!"

"Does he have an X-Wing?" Aiden asked excitedly, sitting on the edge of his seat and waiting impatiently for an answer.

"Lemme tell you a secret," you whispered, making the boy eagerly lean closer. "He's a part of The Resistance."

"No way!" Aiden clamped a hand over his mouth, failing to hide a giggle. "How do you know that?"

"Because I am too." You told him, and the shine in his eyes brightened from something other than drying tears. "You can't tell anyone though!" You said, your voice still lowered. "They're working on a very very top secret mission right now. A way to take down The Empire from the inside."

"I promise!"

"Y/N?" Peter turned his head just as you did when a new voice called your name. You said a quick goodbye to Aiden, and hurried over to the doctor that wanted your attention.

Peter still had a small smile on his face as he told himself to stop staring and instead looked down at his hands. His heart had swelled from what he'd just seen, you distracting Aiden from the news that was breaking his young heart when you could have just as easily ignored him like everyone else was and let his mom try to get him to calm down herself.

There just wasn't many good-hearted people like that that Peter ran into. Especially not ones his age that worked st the same hospital his aunt did. If that wasn't a sign telling him something, he wasn't sure what was.

Yeah. He definitely had a crush.

Perfectly normal.

Right?

Peter suddenly heard his thoughts in his head telling him to go up and talk to you, watching as you said 'thank you' to that doctor and began to look at the clipboard he handed you, leaning up against the wall. But since Peter knew his brain because well...it was his brain, he also knew that he wasn't the best with words or getting anyone he was interested in. So it was a real struggle trying to figure out the best way to introduce himself to you without completely embarrassing himself.

Five minutes passed, and Peter was afraid your job would have you leave the waiting room. The longer he waited, the more chance either you would leave or Aunt May would clock out and he would leave.

What would Spider-Man do? Was a question Peter asked himself, ultimately getting no answer. Spider-Man was confident, but even that version of himself didn't try to flirt with people.

Maybe he was looking at this all wrong. He wasn't trying to flirt with you, he was just trying to introduce himself. Maybe if he thought about this as trying to make a new friend - which he technically was - then hypothetically it could be easier.

Whenever he became friends with someone, he found a common interest and started talking that way. So what common interest did he have with you?

He thought back to just a couple minutes ago when you was talking to Aiden. Star Wars was definitely the angle to play here. He loved Star Wars.

Before Peter's brain could throw more doubt into his head, he pushed himself up and with every step he found himself nearing you, nervous butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

He to himself it wasn't a big deal. She's just a pretty girl.

"H-hi." Wow. Peter's voice was so soft even he could barely hear himself. He didn't want to clear his throat, especially because he was only standing an arms length away from you, who hadn't yet noticed him yet, so he tried again. "Hi." Okay, this time he was audible. You looked up. "I'm-I'm Peter." He gulped, holding out his hand.

"Hi Peter," you tilted her head and stared at him curiously. What did he look like? Was he pale? Probably. He'd lost a decent amount of blood earlier, and now he was facing someone that could potentially be the one of his dreams. "I'm Y/N."

"I know that." He blurted, his eyes widening and immediately wishing he could take it back because it did not sound the way he meant it too. "I mean- your badge! It has your name." At least he didn't accidently spill that he could hear you say it because of the radioactive venom coursing through his veins that gave him superpowers. That would have been horrible.

"You know what?" Peter said in a small voice after you just stared at him without saying anything, just a small, perhaps amused, perfect smile on your lips.

Peter did not need to be caught staring at your lips.

"I'm sorry? I'll just - I'll just go." He pointed behind him back to the seat he was sitting in.

"No, no. It's fine." You laughed lightly. "I'm not good with talking to people either. Did you need something?"

"Oh. No. I just...I wanted to say that I thought it was pretty awesome how you helped Aiden and his mom like that." Your smile widened and Peter found himself unable to control the words coming out of his mouth. "And-and that you're also real-really pretty...too."

So much for embarrassing himself. Peter went silent, realizing that his opening conversation, his introduction, he called you pretty. Way to go. Was it too late to blame it on the numbing medication?

"Thank you." You chuckled shyly while Peter stood, thinking that he had already messed up and you were about to label him a creep. So when he heard you laugh, it gave him a little hope that maybe he hadn't entirely messed up. "My boyfriend thinks so too. Not 100% sure I agree though," you said casually, glancing at the sheet of paper back to Peter.

Those 2.5 seconds of hope? Squashed. Like a spider under a newspaper.

Peter wasn't just embarrassed, he was mortified. Of course you would have a boyfriend. If someone like you didn't, it would be a crime.

He shouldn't have gotten up to talk to you. May would yell at him about tearing his stitches if she found him up and walking about.

He felt so stupid. Figures, the first person he felt himself crushing on for the first time in a long time would be taken, and he would make himself just seem like a desperate teenage boy. Well, maybe he didn't look exactly desperate. Yet.

He really should have just walked away.

"O-oh!" Peter stammered, continuing to talk instead of ending the conversation. "Well, he seems very lucky. You seem really cool. Only really cool people like Star Wars. That's the reason I came over to talk anyway. About Star Wars."

"Really?" You raised an eyebrow at his excuse of a reason and Peter couldn't tell if you bought it or not. He wouldn't have.

"Yeah, of course!" He shrugged, trying to summon up some of his Spider-Man confidence to convince you he was telling the truth. "I mean Star Wars is awesome, so you must be awesome and I wanted to talk about that awesomeness...together?"

Why the hell was he still trying? Peter didn't know. He knew he was being stupid. There was no point in trying to be friends with someone he had a crush on. Not when she was already dating someone else. Chances were it would only end in heartbreak.

"I could always use a Star Wars buddy." You tucked your clipboard under your arm and stared at Peter, a friendly smile still on your face.

That was a surprise. "What?" Peter asked, sounding small again.

"I'm really the only person I know who has an interest in it." You chuckled. "It would be nice to talk to someone face to face about what happens in canon."

Peter was functioning on zero brain cells.

"What about - what about your boyfriend?"

"He's not all that into science fiction," you shrugged, obviously not realizing that wasn't what Peter was asking. He wanted to know if your boyfriend was the jealous type and if he should just leave you alone so he wouldn't potentially ruin a relationship even by accident. "Hey man, it's okay," you laughed, and Peter realized that his worry was probably showing on his face. "We don't have to be friends. But I'm just saying, you were the one to come up to me."

"You...you want to be friends?"

"Like you said: only awesome people watch Star Wars. I need more awesome people in my life."

"I..." Peter was unsure at first, but then a grin broke out on his face. "Y-yeah. Let's be friends."

                                                     ▪︎ ■ □ ■ □ ■ ▪︎

Peter's phone buzzed on his bed next to him, making him nearly stab his hand with the tweezers he was using to mess with the wiring in his suit.

But when he saw it was a message from you, he immediately forgot everything and picked it up to answer back.

                                  (1) New Message: My Best Girl ❤

He seriously needed to change your contact before someone thought the two of you were dating.

Maybe later.

How many Avengers does it take to change a light bulb?

                                                                                  Oh, so we're doing this again

Answer the question dork

                                                                             Isn't this supposed to be a joke?

Yeah, and you're ruining it!

😭😭😭

                                                                                                              Okay, okay

                                                                                                             I don't know

                                                                                                             How many?

None.

Because do you really think there's a single light bulb in that insane tower?

I mean, Tony freaking Stark owns the place and probably designed everything in it

                                                                                             I hate to break it to ya

                                                                                          But that's not that funny

Excuse me???

That's the pinnacle of hilarity!

You just ruined the punchline, man

                                                                                                         Did I though??

...

Okay it's not that funny

I'm sleep deprived Peter, you can't blame me

                            Why are you sending me poorly thought out jokes when you're                                                                                                sleep deprived then?

                                                                                            I totally can blame you

                                                                                              Get some sleep, Y/N

In my defense, 3 am me thought it was absolutely shucking hilarious

Stop being so mean I thought you loved me Peter

If Peter wasn't alone, he would have no excuse as to why he suddenly held his breath after letting out a definitely manly squeak while his heart pounded in his chest.

He was reading way too much into that word.

You didn't mean it.

Not in the way he would have.

Him and you were friends. And he supported her still going relationship with Connor. They were friends.

Luckily, he only froze for a couple of seconds before he gathered his bearings again, going back to the conversation like he just hadn't had his heart prepared to jump out of his chest at one probably thoughtlessly typed out word.

                                                       I do but idk why you think you can outdork me

Who says I can't try?

                                            You're talking to the person who literally EMBODIES                                                                                              the meaning of a dork

                                                                                 And with stupid jokes, no less

There are more where that came from.

And they only get worse from here.

                                                                                                          Let ‘em at me

I thought they were stupid

                                                                          Nothing coming from you is stupid

Aww!

                                                      Only in meaning, okay? That joke was horrible

And I thought you were complimenting me!

Okay, anyway

That was supposed to segway into asking whether we can move our sleepover to your place

                                                              How is that in any way Avengers related?

Nvm

Anyway...

                                                                                   Oh! Yeah that should be fine

                                                I'll just double check with May and get back to you

                                                                                              Is something wrong?

Peter didn't like that it took a little bit for you to answer back. That means you hesitated. That means he was right.

I just don't want to bother my dad.

He's gonna be working a late shift and knowing us, we'll probably be awake by the time he gets back

I doubt us laughing and being loud will help him sleep.

                                                                                                                  Oh okay

                                                             Like I said it should be fine. May loves you

Even more so than you, I've heard

                                                                                                                Whaaat??

                                                                                                           From whom?

Your lovely aunt herself 😁

We work together, remember?

                                                         You'd think after 5 months I'd remember that

                                                                                                                     But no

                                                                                                            I'm hurt, Y/N

                                                                                                             You hurt me

You're fine you big baby

Just get the movies ready

Cuz I'm coming ready to marathon

And the popcorn

                                                                                                  I only have chips :(

Since your aunt loves me more, I'll suffer for you

                                                                                                        How thoughtful

Ikr I'm the best

I'll see you tomorrow Pete

                                                                                                You going to sleep?

At 9?

Ha! You're the funny one tonight

                                                                                                                      Sleep

I'll see you tomorrow!

Peter sighed, smiling down at the screen and shaking his head.

                                                                                                          See you soon

The screen went dark and Peter put his phone down and picked up the tweezers again. He wanted to finish up and go to sleep, because there was no way he was going to waste any time alone he could get with you. Your spare time? That was all him.

It was all he could get, anyway.

                                                   ▪︎ ■ □ ■ □ ■ ▪︎

One look from May, and Peter knew he got up way too fast when he heard the knock on the front door- having nearly vaulted over the couch.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, but his grin stayed. Walking normally to the door, he flung it open without checking who was on the other side, already knowing who it was.

What he wasn't expecting however was for you to not be prepared to meet him. You were standing on the other side of the door, bookbag on your back filled with clothes and toothbrush and other things you needed no doubt, but you were staring at the elevator at the ends of the hall with a look on your face that Peter was fast to recognize as uncertainty before you quickly turned your head to Peter and smiled widely.

"Hey!" You greeted with what would be your normal enthusiasm, but it sounded off to Peter.

"Hey," he smiled back, stepping back to let you in. "Something on your mind?"

"Hm?" Your smile dipped but not for long. "Nothing other than the fact that you better have my favorite chips for the lack of popcorn."

"What about you suffering for me?" Peter gasped, placing a dramatic hand over his heart.

"You're the one who doesn't have popcorn on a movie night. I think that's a federal crime." You turned to May, who was sitting on the couch reading a book. "Right?"

"Y/N's got a point," May shrugged, pushing up her glasses. "I told you you should have ran to the corner store for kernels, Pete."

"So it's really true." Peter frowned, pretending to cry as you walked to the couch and kissed May's cheek before taking the spot next to her. "You really do love her more!"

"Who said that?" May laughed, sending an accomplice-like wink in your direction, making you laugh.

Peter just grinned. It didn't matter if you were joking, which you probably were, but Peter agreed. He liked you more than he did himself too.

"How about I let you guys get started? I'll finish up with Stephen King and then join in." May stood up, showing how little of her book she had left and gesturing to her room.

"Sounds good." You smiled and Peter nervously nodded his head.

While he jumped at any chance to be alone with you, Peter hated that it was only him and you in the same room. That greatly added to the chances that he might let something slip. Something he wouldn't be able to take back.

"We should get the movies started, right?" You said quickly, hopping up and crouching down in front of the movie shelf.

"I mean, we could always watch something else," Peter offered.

"Nah, it's been a while since I did a full Star Wars marathon." You sent him a smile, but Peter couldn't help but to feel something about it was forced. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

It didn't take long for one of the most iconic theme songs to fill the room, but a silence also fell over that was far from comfortable.

Peter tried to convince himself that he was thinking too much into it. Maybe you were just having a bad day. Then it would be his job to make it better, right? But the thought of 'what if it was more than that?' refused to go away.

But when you started a conversation, Peter felt his concern fading away. He loved it when it was like this. Just the two of you, talking and watching a movie. He felt so natural. He let his guard down, let you have full control of his attention. He completely melted when it came to you. He would do anything for you.

And soon enough, Peter found himself watching you more than the movie itself.

"You've been looking at me the past ten minutes," You grinned, laughing a little. "Is there something you wanna tell me, Pete?"

Yes! Peter's brain screamed. A million things!

It was almost involuntary as he opened his mouth, words ready and willing to spill. "I love-" it wasn't until he said that he realized he couldn't say that. He couldn't tell her. Then he would lose her forever. You were already dating someone. He knew that. He shouldn't have continued to get to know you. He shouldn't have fallen for you. "Star Wars!" He blurted instead.

"I think that's pretty well established," you looked at him a little suspiciously, a small smile on your lips.

"Well yeah, but I mean, it's crazy." He thought quickly to lie, sitting up and holding his arm out to the television, trying to fight back the blush he felt was coming with the rush of his blood under his skin. "Star Wars has been around so long, and has gotten so popular. It's like the staple of the Science-Fiction-Space-Fantasy genre, and so many people loved it that it became this huge thing! I mean, ten years after Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars got rebooted! Suddenly, there's this new trilogy of movies, and it brought even more people into the already super big fan base.

"And-and they're still going! Because Rogue One was a spinoff movie. A spinoff! And another one is rumored to be coming out about Han Solo! And that's not counting all of the TV shows, like The Clone Wars and Rebels that had come out before the new movies, and the ones that are supposed to come out in the future!"

Peter chuckled. "I mean, Connor is seriously missing out by not getting into Star Wars, seriously, come on," it wasn't until Peter had stopped talking that he realized your face had fell at the mention of your boyfriend. Suddenly, the pieces started to click in his brain; why you seemed off when you got there. Why you seemed so eager to start watching pretty much right away. You wanted to distract herself from him.

"He just doesn't like it." You said stiffly, turning away from Peter and back towards the screen. He paused, trying to debate if bringing it up was really a topic he should talk about with you.

But then he realized that you're one of his closest friends, and he cared about you, and he cared if you got hurt. Your boyfriend was obviously causing you pain, and he needed to figure out why.

"What's going on?"

"What?"

"Between you and him. Something happened. What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything," you said after a moment. "Not really. It's fine."

"No, you're not yourself today. It's not fine."

You sighed. "We just had a small argument. It's okay, really. All couples do. It's just the first time we've ever disagreed on something. We just need a little bit of time to cool off, then we'll talk it out."

"Oh." Peter didn't know what else to say. Y/N obviously didn't want to talk about it. Did that mean it was serious or the complete opposite? Did he overstep? Should he have pried?

"Let's just- oh shoot, I'm missing my favorite part!"

You turned back to the television, your eyes wide as you payed attention to the movie.

Peter just let it go. He would wait. If you got worse though, he would figure out exactly what you argued with Connor about. Because he didn't want you to change. Especially if it was making you hide things from him. You were always so open with him.

Eyes finding the TV, Peter decided on just making you have the best movie night of your life. And that included him running out to buy some popcorn.

                                                      ▪︎ ■ □ ■ □ ■ ▪︎

Feet landing on his bedroom floor, Peter grinned to himself as he was finally home after a pretty productive Spider-Man patrol, if he could say so himself.

Normally he would go and rant to May about everything he did, but since he had gotten really sidetracked and it was nearing one in the morning, he decided that he would fill in his aunt later. If he didn't get lectured about being out that late and worrying her. Again.

"Night Karen," Peter said to the A.I. before pulling his mask off and flicking on his desk lamp light.

Unhooking his phone from his belt, he tossed it on his bed along with his mask as he pressed the spider emblem on his chest and let his suit fall down before making his way to his dresser.

He nearly slammed his hand in a drawer when his phone suddenly went off, making him jump. He figured to let it ring out because it was most likely spam - who would call at 1:00 in the morning? - but when he glanced at the screen anyway, he realized that it wasn't spam at all.

His screen shone with his contact picture for you - a picture of you caught off guard from when you were studying for your internship test with various medical books and highlighters spread around you. Your hair had been a mess and you were wearing one of his sweatshirts because you had misjudged the weather that day, but it was Peter's favorite picture of you.

Peter forgot about clothes as he scrambled to answer the call. You've never called him this late. It had to be important.

"Y/N?"

He heard a small sniffle from the other end of the line before you answered. "I'm sorry for calling so late, Peter," you spoke, and Peter could feel his heart break from hearing that you had obviously been crying.

"No. No, it's fine. I was up anyway."

"Can you just stay on the phone until I fall asleep? I just...I just want to know you're there."

"I'll always be here for you," Peter promised, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"Thank you." You told him softly, sniffing up again.

"No problem. Just let me get some clothes on real quick." Peter held his phone ear to shoulder as he went back to his dresser.

"Are you seriously naked right now?"

Peter nearly dropped his phone on his foot, only catching it at the last minute. "Not like that-I was changing!" He spluttered into the speaker, hearing your laugh over the line.

"At one a.m.? What did you say you were up doing again?"

"Come on," Peter let out a soft exasperated sigh, pulling his legs through a pair of pajama pants and grabbing the first shirt out of his top drawer, trying his hardest to put it on without pulling his phone from his ear.

"I'm just teasing," he heard you shift on your bed over the line. "Tell me about something. Anything."

"Hm, let me think." Peter sat down on his bed. His exhaustion could wait. "Did I tell you about how Abe really has the best humor out of all of us on the entire Decathlon team?"

                                                    ▪︎ ■ □ ■ □ ■ ▪︎

Was Peter making a mistake? Probably.

Was he going to stop? Probably not.

Up to this point, Peter had only done stake outs as Spider-Man. So maybe him standing outside of the library on Midtown Tech's campus as just Peter Parker should have been the first red flag to what he was doing.

But when things came to you, did he really think about the consequences?

Peter was going over things to say in his head as he waited for Connor to leave the building. Each variant fueled with even more anger than the last.

He still didn't know exactly why you were upset to the point you were crying last night, but between laughing and Peter going through all the stops to distract you like you had asked him to do, you had dropped enough hints it was Connors fault.

Again.

That was all Peter needed to act.

He was trying hard to keep himself calm though. He didn't want to be aggressive, that just wasn't him. He just wanted answers. Because Connor was hurting you, and that was not okay.

Peter heard footsteps descend the stairs he had his back turned too, but he was too caught up in trying to figure out the best thing to say to really notice.

"Hey man," Peter just barely caught himself from flinching in surprise. "You're Peter Parker, right?"

Peter turned at the sound of someone addressing him. Which didn't happen often. His eyes gave away his shock though, when he saw he was staring right at Connor.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." He confirmed. "Hi. Connor, right?" That came out a little more harsh than he wanted it to be.

Luckily, Connor didn't seem to notice. "That's me, yeah. I'm actually really happy I ran into you."

"What?" Peter blinked.

"I'd really like your advice. Because you're one of Y/N's best friends, and I really want to make sure I haven't messed things up with her."

"What?" Peter dumbly asked again before shaking him out of it. "I mean, what's- what is it?"

"Mind if we sit?" Connor asked, glancing at Peter as he sat down on the library's front steps. Cautiously, Peter sat down next to him. "Look man, I'm so scared." Connor sighed, staring down at his feet as he pushed his hair back anxiously. "I don't know if she told you, but we've kind of had our first fight the other day."

"I might have - I might have heard about that, yeah." Was Peter playing that a little too casually? It didn't matter. Things were straying a little bit left of the plan and Peter was trying to keep his cool. He came for answers, not to blow up on his best friends boyfriend.

"You don't need to act like you didn't," Connor laughed dryly. "It's okay. She isn't the type of person to hide what she feels. We both know that."

"Yeah." Peter answered truthfully this time, watching Connor carefully.

"I just feel really bad," he said in a soft voice, shaking his head slightly, and to his surprise, Peter believed him. "I never should have asked her to cut down some of her internship hours."

Woah. So that's what had happened? Peter understood why you were so upset now. You had worked your butt off for that internship. You studied and waited years before you got accepted. And if you did good work there, the hospital would give you a letter of recommendation for your collage and grad schools when the time came. Your internship was your everything. Very similarly to how Peter's "internship" was to him.

"I just-" Connor sighed. "I never should have. There's no excuse. I've known from the start of our relationship that I would have to work our dates around the days she goes. She made me promise, because this was so important to her. It was the least I could do, because she's so special and deserves it." Yeah she is. "So when I asked if she could ditch so we could go out...I'm just trying to find a way to apologize. I don't feel like sorry is enough."

Peter instantly felt bad. He came with the intent to ambush Connor and to force him (if it got to that point) to apologize to you. But that isn't what happened at all.

Instead, Connor was the one to come up to him. He was already going to apologize. He was so heartbroken and genuine asking Peter what he should do to fix it.

Connor loved you.

And as much as he hated to admit it, you loved Connor.

Peter closed his eyes and smiled sadly. Maybe this was the moment of realization he needed.

"I was planning on making it up to her with a movie night when she was free this weekend, but since you and her just had a marathon I figured I should do something else."

Peter thought about it. "How are you with Global Studies?"

Connor looked at him on the verge of asking a question why right before Peter watched as he understood what he meant. "Her test is this week. She's been studying like crazy, thinking she's going to fail it because it's her weakest subject."

"Yup." Peter nodded his head. "A study date doesn't sound too bad." He proposed. "As long as you guys are studying." He couldn't stop himself from adding.

Connor laughed. "I wouldn't dare," he replied. "You think that would be enough?"

"Well you would have to talk to her, obviously." Peter shrugged. "Just tell her what you told me. The truth. Y/N will understand. She really wants the two of you to work. She's happy with you."

"I'm happy with her too." Connor said softly.

The entire conversation was sorely bittersweet, but Peter had the feeling that it had to happen. Connor wasn't a bad person. Peter shouldn't have been trying to compete with him. He understood that now.

"Hey, like you said: this is your first fight. It's perfectly normal. All couples argue. The best thing for you to do is to talk it out. Admit what the both of you did wrong, and find a solution together." Peter sighed. "You two will work it out. I'm sure."

Connor smiled gratefully. "Thanks man."

"Yeah, it's no problem."

"No, I'm serious. Thank you for being Y/N's friend. She talks about you a lot, and she really cares about you. I really appreciate you being in her corner. Being there for her."

"Oh." Peter smiled. "Yeah. Yeah of course."

Connor nodded before standing up and Peter watched as he walked away. It seemed like there were new terms he was going to have to accept.

                                                   ▪︎ ■ □ ■ □ ■ ▪︎

Peter had thought he was in love.

And maybe he was.

It took him a little bit longer than he should have, but soon, it became clear that what Peter was feeling for you was not the love he thought it was.

He loved you; yes. There was no denying that. But only as the amazing friend you were. Just as you felt for him.

It hurt. Of course. It took a while for Peter to sort out his feelings. May was right there for him to confide in, and she really was the best aunt in the world as if Peter needed any more proof.

You were an important person in his life. Still are. Everyone needs a person to make them feel things they hadn't before. Give an experience to learn from. Maybe at the beginning, Peter truly had really liked you more than a friend, but as time passed, he mistaked the comfortableness and security he felt around you with love.

May had told him it was a fine line. That there was no way he could have actually been for sure. But she had assured Peter that he made the right decision. Because he loved you, he had to let you go.

Peter didn't regret it. He still kept you in his life; you, Ned and him becoming a trio to be reckoned with. You were still one of his best friends. And you were still happy with Connor. That's all Peter ever wanted. For you to be happy.

The decathlon team was meeting in the library today. Since the competition was edging nearer, MJ, now the captain, had proposed that they should change up their study sessions a little bit. Everyone had been assigned a certain topic, and after a little bit, they would help quiz each other all around.

MJ was a great leader. She was smart, and assertive when she needed to be. She knew what the team needed to be pushed just the right amount, and Peter was absolutely sure they would get another win with her this year. She was amazing.

Sitting down in the chair next to Ned, Peter grabbed his study book and opened it up.

"Dude," Peter heard Ned whisper to him, nudging his shoulder a couple minutes into the study session, after attendance and instructions.

"Yeah?" Peter asked, his eyes not leaving his page. He needed to commit organic compounds to his memory because even though he's supposed to be the one to teach MJ, she's definitely going to be the one to teach him.

"Michelle's been staring at you for like, I dunno man, thirty seconds?"

"What?" Peter's head shot up and sure enough, MJ had been looking in his direction. Of course she was much more natural in making it look like she wasn't. He never would have thought she was, if this hadn't been the fourth time he'd "caught" her.

Peter bit back a smile as he tried to go back to studying. The heat rising to his face however made it hard to ignore the urge to pay more attention to MJ. He had made it that far without getting distracted by her, which was a feat all in it's own.

"I don't think you should wait until summer to tell her," Ned continued whispering, glancing up at MJ. "Y/N agrees with me too. You should just go for it!"

"I told you," Peter smiled, unable to resist looking up at MJ from across the table. "I have a plan. I'm doing this right. I have a good feeling about this."

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

What Hurts The Most

peter parker x reader | 3K

summery: you survived.

prompt 32: "I wasn't ready to say goodbye.", 1-800-Confusion and iloveyou3000peter on Wattpad

warning: pile of angst

Your alarm had gone off twenty minutes ago, but you were still lying in your bed, unmoving.

You hadn't gone back to sleep, no. It was another bad day. A day where the past did nothing but haunt you. A day when your thoughts drifted back to the horrors of five years ago. A day where you mourned for what was and what could have been. You weren't closing your eyes anytime soon. It would only make things worse.

Days like this brought you back to the beginning of what everyone thought was the end. It completely numbed you.

You weren't sure why it affected you more than most just as much as you knew why. Just like the hundreds of thousands of people in New York alone, you lost. You lost your family. Your friends. Your...

Being admitted into the foster care system at sixteen was the second hardest thing you had to live through. The world was a wreck. No one knew exactly what had happened. Just that for the first time, the Avengers couldn't save them.

No one had wanted you. You bounced from foster home to foster home, but like most kids old enough to understand what had happened to the world, to feel the heavy weight of grief, you had a lot of baggage. Still do. And you're not sure you'll ever completely recover.

You had watched as your entire family disappeared right in front of you.  Turned to dust in merely a blink. You had desperately called Peter Parker one last time. And through tear filled eyes, you prayed his aunt would pick up the phone.

They never did.

In that moment, you knew you were truly alone. Left to cry in your empty apartment, the only sign you weren't the only one left in the world the sounds of anguish distant around you. From the other survivors.

You grew up closed off and distant. You couldn't move on, like a lot of kids could. Not in this world, where everyone close to you was gone. None of your family had survived. None of your friends. And according to the news, the Avengers themselves — the ones that came back, that is — were radio silent, having given up. School became your crutch. Something to completely take up your focus. Because if you weren't doing something, all you felt was pain.

This morning was just a remnant of the hurt you tried so hard to work through these last five years, but it was enough to kill any sort of positive feeling you could have possibly had.

You were quiet as you sat up. You could only hear the traffic outside. A sign that the world had adapted. Gone back to normal — or at least as close as normal as it could be. Today, you were a piece of the past. The memories of that day brought forth fresh as if they just happened yesterday.

You were glad that you had laid instead of getting up. It gave you an excuse to panic; to rush to get ready so you wouldn't be late. It distracted your brain.

You tried to ignore the mirror as you searched for your car keys. You really did. On days like this, you hated seeing yourself. To see the reflection of adult you had become.

Your hair was wet from the shower you had taken, but other than that, you looked just as any other person in their early twenties would. Young. Still able to pass as a teen, if you wanted to try. But it was your eyes that gave it away.

The light was gone. The spark of hope that was naturally instilled in every human at birth wasn't there anymore. Your eyes betrayed you, showing just how haunted you really were. Filled with sadness and regret and guilt. One look, and anyone could tell just how much you went through. The bags underneath that hadn't left since you were sixteen completed the look. And today, it was amplified. The downward pull of your face settling in, and you making no attempt to get rid of it.

You used to love Saturday mornings. The beginning of the weekend. They used to be spent filled with wonder. Filled with adventures and quality time, ranging from eating breakfast in bed as you caught up on your favorite shows to hanging out with MJ and Harry at the park to swinging through New York City with Spider-Man, laughing and screaming from the thrill of being weightless as Peter laughed with you, holding on tightly before the two of you would sit on a rooftop and talk and kiss through the night.

Now, Saturdays were filled with work. You had packed your college classes as much as your major and minor would allow, but you still had too much free time. Your weekends were spent working in fast food. It was the only job where you knew there would be constant tasks to do. No time for your mind to wander. You were able to focus on one thing, and that thing only. You were even grateful bartering with unhappy and rude customers.

You knew it was an unhealthy way to live. To drown yourself in work and stress. But for five years, it helped you keep on living. More than you would like to admit, you thought about if it would just be easier to get rid of your problems rather than to live through them. And while you never actually found a complete solution, the partial one kept you alive long enough to see your twenty-first birthday. It was a plastic bubble with you on the inside, keeping you afloat on a stormy sea of emotion. It was protecting you, but you also knew just how close it was from cracking and letting the water flood in. Slowly, your bubble had begun to fortify, but on days like this, days like today, you knew it was weaker.

The cold bite of the oncoming winter wind hit your face as you stepped outside into the October morning. The air chilled you to the bone, raising goosebumps and making you shiver. You rushed to get to your car. You couldn't deal with the cold. Not today. Not when you were feeling like this.

You swallowed hardly as you turned your key in the ignition. It took a few attempts before the engine roared to life, but eventually you merged into traffic. The movement helped to pull you from your current mindset.

Soon enough you were at work. A few of your coworkers shared empathetic looks, but said nothing as you passed them by. The familiar sounds of oil crackling and machines whirring and peoples voices as they ordered food surrounding you. It didn't take long before the restaurant got busy, which was the best thing that could have happened for you.

The fast pace helped keep you distracted, but since today you were reliving, time moved slower; minutes feeling like hours.

It wasn't until your boss placed a careful hand on your shoulder and commanded you to take a break that you realized that you weren't holding up as well as you thought you were.

For some reason, today felt different. Felt worse. Like something horrible was about to happen, and like last time, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

You didn't know why, but something was clenching at your gut like a fist, like some part deep inside you knew something was about to happen and was trying to warn you. To prepare you.You were scared as you stood in the locked bathroom. Trying to calm down your rapid breaths.

You hadn't broken down in a long time. You were proud of that. A sign that maybe you were moving farther from the past. That maybe you were finally going to move on.

But as the sound of your heart pounded in your ears, and it was getting harder to breath, you knew your streak was about to be broken.

Tears falling down, you stared down at the sink your hands were clutching, arms shaking and knuckles white. You needed to keep your eyes down, because if you looked up...you didn't know what you would do if you saw yourself in this moment. You just knew that you needed to stay standing. You needed to calm down. Compose yourself. Get back to work. Work would help. It had too.

You couldn't have looked pretty as you left the employee bathroom, but no one said a thing. The feeling in your gut was still there, but you cooked to try and ignore it, repeating and memorizing orders in your head so you would have something to go over.

Your hands were still shaking as you pulled the basket of fries up from the hot oil, but not nearly as bad as they were before. You turned to put them in the warmer when suddenly there was a person you didn't recognize next to you.

Your scream didn't come out, but you dropped the scorching fries to the floor. Residue oil splattered onto your pants leg and seeped through the fabric, making you hiss in pain and stumble backwards right into another person that wasn't there before either.

As if you were the start of a chain reaction, yelps and screams of surprise filled your ears. Looking around, you saw that these people were no one you had ever seen before, but they were wearing the same uniform as you. Like they had worked there. They looked just as confused as you were, staring in a stunned silence.

You couldn't move for a moment. Questions filled the air, from in front and behind the counter.

Your manager emerged from the back room to find the cause of all the commotion, when her eyes widened at the sight.

"Chloe?" You heard her ask, staring straight at the girl you stumbled into. The one you didn't recognize. "How are you — you- you're back!"

Time seemed to slow even more as you processed what those words meant. What they really meant. Chloe had never been someone you worked with, but she had worked there. Five years ago. Now she was back. The other person was back. And as you looked out into the rest of the restaurant, you noticed it become twice as crowded.

They were back. They were all back.

For the first time in five years, your mind was completely blank as you stumbled out of the door, having pushed through the thick crowd of confused people.

You barely breathed as you shouted at your car to start, but cursed when you realized the roads were a wreck. Not knowing what else to do, you ran.

The key to the apartment in Jackson Heights you lived in five years ago still hung on your keychain — you never gave it back, trying to hold on to some part of the past — and you struggled to fit it through the keyhole before you burst in through the front door.

The apartment was empty, having been unrented for a while. But there in the center of the room, your family stood. Right where the couch would have been. Where they last were as the group of you had been huddled around the news, waiting for the return of Iron Man and Spider-Man after everyone had seen them board that alien spaceship.

Your mother was holding the landline to her ear when your family had turned to see you — who they must've thought was an intruder. Suddenly, your phone rang in your bag, and with wide eyes, your parents stared at their stranger of a child.

They didn't ask questions, seeing the tears in your eyes, and instead pulled you into a hug, knowing that an explanation would come in due time.

You didn't understand. You couldn't believe. But somehow, they were back. Somehow, they were alive. Like nothing more than a blink had passed for them while you spent five years in Hell.

Telling them what happened was hard. No one knew for sure what had actually happened, just that half of the world's population disappeared into nothing more than a pile of ashes. Not just the humans, all life. Animals. Plants. Half were gone, and only half survived. That they had been gone for five years, that they had been dead.

But now you know they really weren't. They never were. Just...trapped somewhere. Suspended in time.

You didn't want to leave your family, but after a few hours, you couldn't stay. You needed to see who else came back.

Your knocks were needy as you raced through Queens. Your breath nearly leaving you again as May Parker opened the door. To her, nothing had changed. Tony Stark had made sure the apartment stayed untouched when he came back. Holding on to one last shred just like you had.

May hadn't aged a day, just like your family hadn't. The first sign that something had happened was when she took in your appearance. Ragged no doubt, but also older.

Her palm pressed against your cheek, and you had to assure her it was really you as the both of you started to cry. You didn't need to ask why. It was for the same reason.

People were reuniting everywhere. Your family had come to meet you in the Parkers' apartment as you and May sat in wait, holding onto each other as the both of you stared at the door. No one needed to ask why; they all knew.

Four hours had passed before the doorknob had turned, and someone stepped through. You and May stood up faster than a bullet from a gun.

Peter's eyes were already red and brimmed with tears as he looked up to see you and May.

Everyone was silent and still, no one even daring to move.

It even felt like your heart had stopped beating in your chest. Breaking into millions of tiny pieces all over again as you watched Peter hug his aunt. But this time it wasn't because he had been gone, but because you didn't go with him.

By the time Peter had made his way to you, it was hard to see through your tears. Peter Parker was still the sixteen year old boy you had known for years and fell in love with. But that was the thing: he was sixteen. He wasn't the one who lived an extra five years.

You felt his tears roll down your skin as you clung to him like he was going to disappear again. You were leaving stains of your own, but you had to focus on the fact that he was here. Peter was here. He felt the same. Sounded the same. He was alive.

He trembled in your arms and you had to summon all your willpower to prevent you from kissing him. The urge wanting to be a final proof that he really was there. But you couldn't. Not anymore.

"It's okay." Peter whispered shakily. The lie was blatant, but a comfort to the both of you nonetheless.

You squeezed him tighter, gasping into his shoulder as you kept your eyes screwed shut. You never wanted to let him go again, as selfish as it seemed. You wanted to pretend these last five years were a horrible nightmare you were trapped in. And Peter coming back was you waking up. That the second you opened your eyes, you would be back on the school bus heading to MoMa. You would catch Peter's eyes from where he would glance back to where you were seated behind him.

But when the lively chattering of teens didn't come back, when you couldn't feel the bumps of the bus bouncing underneath you, you knew this was the reality you really were in; that you had lived through.

Now, when you pulled away from Peter, you realized you had nothing in common anymore. There was no way the two of you could ever go back to normal. There was no more normal.

You searched for something, anything, in his eyes. The chocolate eyes you used to always get lost in, the eyes that used to wash warmth over you, the eyes that you could never get sick of looking at. But as you stared, to your horror, all you saw were a mirror of your own.

"I wasn't ready to say goodbye." You sobbed, lightly pushing him away. "I never got to say goodbye." You distanced yourself from the boy, as much as every fiber of you protested doing so.

"I'm here now," You knew his heart was just as broken as his voice. You knew Peter knew exactly what was going to happen. What couldn't happen. "It's okay." he repeated, his voice wavering.

You shook your head, more tears falling from your eyes, and a conflicting smile flashed across your lips as they trembled.

Right now, you weren't sure if everyone coming back was for the better or the worst. Because at the moment, you were hurting more than you ever had in the entirety of the last five years.

It wasn't like those years could be erased. Like everything could go back to normal now that everyone was back. You didn't know if you were one of the lucky ones or not, but what you did know was that Peter wasn't yours anymore. He hadn't been for the last five years, and he wouldn't be for at least another five if somehow your relationship could be saved.

Nothing would ever be okay. You would have to start the process of moving on all over again. You didn't want to think about how it was in Peter's brain. To him, the two of you had been together just yesterday. Now here you were, five years older than him and your relationship shattered nearly to the point beyond repair.

Now, you would have to say goodbye all over again. Only this time, Peter would be there to watch you disappear.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu #peter parker angst #angst

[thatgeekyemo]

What Are Friends For?

peter parker x reader | 2.5k

summery: a lovesick Peter Parker enlists the help of his best friend

note: oh platonic intimate relationships my love

"Y/N, help!"

The sudden emergence of Peter's voice paired with his body nearly crashing into yours made you jump, the surprise pulling a small yelp from you.

Peter grabbed your arms like he was a dying man, but nothing about him seemed to be hurt. As you blinked away your surprise, you looked him over. His cheeks were blushing a bright red and his chest was rising and falling with quick shallow breaths, but you knew by now that it was less likely that he was flushed because he was running than it snowing in July because of the spider bite that somehow gave the boy superpowers.

"I— she— agh!" Peter let go of you to bring his hands to cover his face. Now realizing what was happening, you shifted your bag to your side after putting away your art project. Patiently, you waited for Peter's sputtering to slow as you watched him with a raised eyebrow.

"Think you can speak now?" You teased when he stopped making random noises and dragged his hands through his hair before down his face. He attempted to send a glare in your direction, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. "What happened this time?"

"She caught me staring at her!" You nodded your head silently as you closed your locker door and turned, grabbing Peter's elbow to turn him with you and pulled him forward slightly to get him walking towards the schools exit.

"Uh huh," you started. "And what happened next?"

"Uh, she went back to reading." He admitted embarrassedly.

"And you..." you prompted for him to finish. You knew what he was going to say anyway. It was routine at this point.

"Ran to find you..." No matter how much you were expecting the answer, you still couldn't keep yourself from laughing. "Come on! You promised you wouldn't laugh anymore!" Peter whined, and you watched as he turned redder, nearly matching the shade of red on Captain America's shield.

"Did I though?" You asked between snickers, your voice an octave higher as you blatantly lied. "Okay, you can't blame me, it's hilarious to watch you dance around MJ. Especially when you're the only one dancing!"

"Shh!" Peter hissed, his head twisting around to look at the other students walking on the sidewalk. But you knew that they couldn't care less about the two of you and wasn't paying attention in the slightest. You just rolled your eyes and waited for Peter to finish being paranoid. "I don't — I'll die if MJ finds out I like her!" He whispered to you.

You took a deep breath, still smiling, to calm yourself so another fit of laughter wouldn't break out before you slowly turned your head and stared at Peter as the both of you walked in the direction you went to get home every day.

"Peter, lemme tell you this right now." You blinked more times than what was necessary just to earn the deadpan look from the boy next to you. "She already knows you like her. You are the most obvious when you try to hide a crush."

"No..." Peter argued weakly. His skin was pretty much back to normal, spare the tips of his ears.

You just waited.

"Okay. Fine. You're right."

"I know I am." You stated, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

"Why do I deal with you?"

"Because you love me and you would be absolutely lost without me?" You answered, flashing your teeth in a wide grin. Peter only replied with a grumble, but you could see he was resisting the urge to smile. "Come on man, what kind of bestie would I be if I didn't dote on you every once in a while. Plus, it would be breaking the best friend rule if I didn't make fun of you constantly."

"I know, I know," Peter sighed and you calmed yourself.

You knew Peter inside and out, and you couldn't help but to be happy for him. He had a crush on MJ. A real real crush. Not like the one he had on Liz, but because he and MJ were spending time together and he was actually getting to know her and fall in love with her habits. And he was making a complete fool of himself because of it.

You also knew where to draw the line between picking on him for it and actually helping him out with trying to make his move. That was, if he could gather up enough courage to do it before Michelle herself did. She definitely was the type of girl to do so. Hell, if you never knew Peter, you probably would've let yourself crush on her.

"I just really like her, you know?"

"I know." You nudged his arm with your shoulder. "But you gotta man up, Pete. You can't flee the moment you two lock eyes."

"You're telling me, the hero and protector of the wonderful borough that is Queens, the boy with enough power to chuck an elephant across a football field, that I need to man up?"

"Emphasis on boy." You shrugged, hearing a scoff of disbelief from Peter. "Look, I'm serious though." You pulled out your phone and opened your messaging, clicking on Michelle's name before shoving it in his face. "Just look at our messages. Think about MJ's personality. While she is the type of person to point out the obvious, she's also the type to hide how she feels until she's comfortable."

Peter blinked as he scrolled through your messages. "You guys talk about me?" He paused. "You guys talk about me!"

You snorted. "It's an entertaining past-time." You said like it wasn't anything while Peter just stared at you.

You did hesitate though, taking your phone back before he scrolled too far up. If he went far enough back, he would see the messages where MJ confessed to you her crush on Peter. That's why you were so sure the two of them were going to work out. But you didn't want Peter to know just yet. You wanted him to work up the courage on his own, not to gain it and have that cushion.

You wanted him to work through his very human teenage boy fears. But you also knew you wouldn't last too much longer. If they weren't dating by the end of the school year, there was no doubt you were going to tell him, because you weren't sure if you could take a whole summer of Peter being lovesick on your couch without meddling yourself. You also told yourself that if MJ started to show signs of longing like Peter in her own way, you would just shove the two of them into a room and lock it behind you until the truth came out. Hey, if they didn't like it, they should have picked another mutal friend to confide in.

Peter frowned. "Does that mean she's not comfortable with me?" You heard him ask softly.

"No, man," you rolled your eyes. "It means she's not comfortable with herself yet. Feelings like this are scary. I have Exhibit A right in front of me." You told him, guesturing to his body as the both of you rounded a corner. "Like I said: she obviously knows about your feelings." You continued. "She's probably just processing them and trying to figure out what move to make next." You made sure to say your words carefully. You might have been a better liar than Peter, just you also got free with your mouth at times when talking about a topic you were invested in.

"Oh, she's probably come up with twenty ways of breaking my heart by now!" Peter groaned and tugged on the strings from his backpack.

"You are so melodramatic," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Seriously. Are you on your period?"

"Remind me to be this rude to you when you get a crush on someone." Peter huffed before he held an arm out to stop you from walking, just as a bird went zooming by at your eye level just in front of you.

"Thanks," you breathed out, the shock of Peter saving your face from being hit with a bird bomb quickly fading, and turning your head to watch the frenzy fueled pigeon swoop like crazy through the air.

"No problem," he answered non-chalantly before he dived back into your conversation. "Look Y/N, I just don't know how to talk about that with her! Decathalon? Great. Trigonometry? Perfectly fine. Living Environment?  Sure. History — I could listen to her rant about it for hours..." You grinned as a far away look appeared in Peter's eyes for a couple of moments before he snapped himself out of it. "We get along just fine when we're talking about school, but anything else? — Especially my feelings for her — I just freeze up! You know that."

"And do you know why?" You asked, Peter following you as you crossed the street before the light changed, weaving between the idling cars.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean: why are you so scared to tell her?"

"Because what if she doesn't like me like that? We didn't even start actually talking to each other as anything more than classmates until this year! What if she rejects me?"

You nodded you head and listened to Peter ramble about different reasons why he was afraid to tell MJ how he felt as the both of you walked up the stairs to your apartment. He was just finishing up as you unlocked your front door, and the two of you melted onto the couch in the living room.

"Hey Peter, what else are you afraid of?" You asked him.

"What?"

"What are your other fears? Outside of getting rejected."

"Don't you already know?" He looked at you with a ounce of suspicion in his eyes.

"Yes I do. But I want you to tell me anyway."

He paused for a minute, thinking. "Um, clowns. Uh...spiders, and small spaces."

"Mh hm." Peter looked up at you, trying to figure out your thought process.

"Why?"

"What did you do when Ned's sister wanted a balloon animal that time we all went to the circus and Ned was in the bathroom?"

"Y/N what are you—"

"Just answer the question."

Peter sat up on his seat. "I uh, I brought her over to the clown and stood there with her while we waited."

"Uh huh, and what about when you found that spider in your room?"

"I caught it and put it outside."

"And when that guy was stuck in between that truck and the bridge and no one else could get to him?"

"I-I squeezed through and saved him." He said quietly.

You leaned over and squeezed his arm, giving him a small smile. At this point, you could see that Peter caught on to what you were doing.

"And what do all three of those things have in common?"

He sighed. "I faced my fears."

"Yeah you did," your voice was softer now. "And look at that, you're still alive, Pete." He looked up at you. "You were scared, but you did it anyway. You did the hard thing and made it through."

"You know you would have been the one getting near that spider if you were there." He smiled and you chuckled.

"But I wasn't. You were brave enough to do it yourself. That's all that needs to happen again. You need to work up enough nerve to talk to MJ."

"But what if she doesn't—"

"Peter, what's worse: being under a bus that's gradually crushing a person and could have potentially killed you, or talking to someone about your feelings?"

"Talking?" He tried, a nervous grin appearing on his face as he inched away from the range of your foot.

"You won't die if you talk to her, you dork." You shook your head. "The worst that could happen would be she wouldn't know how to respond. But this is Michelle Jones we're talking about. She has an answer to everything."

"But what if she doesn't like me?"

This was probably the millionth time you heard that question come from Peter, but instead of getting annoyed, you just moved until you were sitting next to him, hugging into his side reassuringly.

"Peter, trust me. That won't happen. You just need to put it out there and then everything will fall into place."

"You really think she likes me?" He tilted his head to rest on top of yours and you clasped his hand.

"I really do." You tell him honestly. "You two are perfect for each other."

"You really think so?" You could hear the smile in his voice without even having to look up, and it brought one of your own to your face.

"Yes, Peter."

"But what about you?"

Confused, you sat up and turned to look at Peter. "What about me?" This wasn't about you.

"Wouldn't you miss me? The Single Club would be down a member." He grinned, and this time, he was on the recieving end of a glare.

"Shut up about The Single Club, I will be perfectly fine by myself." You scoffed. "You need to go secure the girl of your dreams."

"Only if you're there with me."

"Peter—"

"I'll only do it if you're in the room."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. But I choose when then."

"What? No—"

"Uhm, how about Friday?"

"Y/N!" Peter scrambled to turn towards you, his eyes wide. "I didn't say you could pick when—"

"My conditions if you want me there with you." You smirked. "This Friday, after Decathlon meet. That gives you a day and a half to prepare. I will be in the room, but no less than seven feet away from you. My presence will have to suffice, because this has to be all you."

"You — ...fine." Peter grumbled, falling into the couch with his arms crossed.

"Good." You grinned.

"I wish I could say I hate you."

"But you can't, 'cause you love me." You stated happily. "Now move your arm because you're really warm and I want cuddles."

"I don't remember signing up to be your personal heater."

"Nah, that spider did for you." You laughed as you tucked yourself under his arm and Peter hugged you as he opened his backpack and pulled out his homework. "Now, let's go over what you're going to say to her. I know you're going to need practice."

Peter was quiet for a minute, and it made you curious. Looking up, you saw him smiling gratefully at you.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"What are friends for?" You smiled back, happy that you were finally going to see Peter the happiest he would be since before The Blip. You knew Michelle would be one of the best things for him. They had a connection you had only seen in movies until now. "So...do you want me to pretend to be MJ or something or what?"

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

Promise Me

peter parker x reader ∣ 1.9k

summery: "Y/N? What are you doing?""Kidnapping you," you joked, calling up to him. "Put a shirt on and get down here!"

prompt 25 - "You can't really blame me, can you?"", request from Samhitabgirish on Wattpad

You never thought you would ever feed into movie clichés, but here you were, standing behind Peter's apartment building, tossing small rocks at his bedroom window.

You searched in the street lamp lit dark, trying to find more ammunition. With three pebbles in the palm of your hand, you began to throw again. Intent on not carrying on with your plans unless you had the boy with you.

You heard the clink as the rock hit the glass again, and this time, you thought you saw movement from the seventh floor.

Throwing again, a grin spread across your lips as you saw the blind go up.

One last time, knowing you got his attention, you binged the rock off the window. A couple seconds after, the window lifted, and Peter stuck his head out to search the ground.

When he saw you, his emotions quickly flipped from tired to surprise to happy to annoyed and back to tired.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

"Kidnapping you," you joked, calling up to him. "Put a shirt on and get down here!"

"It's three in the morning!"

"On a Saturday!" You countered. "I'll bring you back before May wakes up, if that's what you're worried about."

"Where are we going tonight?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Come on!"

Peter paused and seemed to think about it. You knew he knew you weren't going to give up too easily, and that his best bet would be to just go with you like always. Besides, you knew Peter's curiosity would compel him to climb down anyway, if he thought the two of you were going anywhere else. The chances he was going to shut down your offer to take him away were low.

"I'll climb up if you'd rather me be up there with you."

"No!" Peter's response was almost immediately. "Just-just give me a sec." He disappeared for a moment before coming back to the window. "Do I need...?"

"Nah. Unless you want to bring it." You tell him, shrugging.

You heard a soft okay before he left your sight again. After soft crash, probably much louder up there, and a muffled curse, Peter was back at his bedroom window. He searched the perimeter again for anyone else before he climbed out of the window.

You bounced on your heels as you watched him scale down, hopping to the ground and jogging to meet you. You immediately grabbed his hand, and Peter chuckled lightly as you didn't even give him a second before you were pulling the two of you back towards the gate.

"I'm tagging along now, can you tell me where we're going?" He yawned. "It's not anywhere where I need to change out of my pj's, right?" You glanced back to see Peter look over your casual outfit. You hadn't actually changed from what you wore earlier that day.

"No, you and your Thor pajamas pants will be perfectly fine." You teased, squeezing his hand and pulling him forward so the two of you were walking side by side instead of you dragging him along. "I just want to hang out with you."

"At three in the morning?" Peter groaned, his face falling flat.

"Shut up. You were probably awake tinkering with your suit or playing video games or something anyway." Peter grumbled something under his breath. "Besides, you can't really blame me, can you?" You asked. "We barely see each other anymore now that you suddenly got big and powerful and decided to dress up as a human spider and fight crime in New York."

"Don't say it like that," Peter sighed, but he started to swing your intertwined hands between your bodies. "You make it sound so much more crazy than it really is."

"Pete, it is crazy," you scoffed, nudging him so he would turn right. "Seriously, think about it. You were small and weak and needed glasses and then one field trip later, boom! Muscles and abs galore!"

"I think you're overexaggerating." Peter frowned, rubbing the back of his head. "I wasn't that bad. You're making me sound like Steve Rogers before he got the serum that made him into Captain America."

"Uh, last I knew, a year ago you were like a 90 pound asthmatic that was almost a head shorter than me. And you needed glasses! So, I see more similarities than differences. You have no foot to argue on here, Spider-Man."

Peter just stuck his tongue out at you and you chuckled, content with your random small victory. "Promise to have fun when we get there instead of bringing up the time every three minutes?"

"Maybe if you tell me where we're going,"

"Breaking into the park. Duh." You laughed, guesturing for Peter to follow you after you hopped the fence. It wasn't that tall, anyway. Just put there to make it look pretty. You didn't care that technically the park closed at dusk, but dawn was coming soon enough.

Peter just sighed, but he quickly followed you. The amount of times the both of you snuck out together to come here taking over and putting the both of you on autopilot as you made your way to the spot on the small hill in the park, away from the main area.

The both of you sat down on the grass, and you smiled as Peter pulled you into his side in one fluid motion.

"You could have just told me we were coming here, you know."

"Where's the fun in that?" You questioned, leaning your head against his shoulder as Peter squirmed to get comfortable on his back.

The both of you went quiet and took deep breaths, falling into a comfortable silence, fingers still laced together.

You hated that the times you wanted to spend with Peter had to be like this, but you took what you could get. The both of you used to sneak out just for the fun of it, the thrill of being rebellious teenagers, but now with Peter's part-time superhero gig gradually taking up more and more of his time, the sneaking out became more of a necessity if you wanted to spend time with him.

You didn't do it often, knowing that being a superhero and all that took a lot out of Peter. Even if he didn't fight anyone, swinging around a city as large of New York still took enough energy out of him. Not to mention just how stressful high school is on top of it. You liked to act like you were a bit of a bad influence to Peter's goody two shoes, but in reality, you just wanted to see him.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered after a couple of minutes, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand.

"You know it's fine Pete. I don't want to stop you from doing what you want."

"But I'm sure you'd rather be sleeping now too."

"Ha. Sleep." You snorted, earning a soft glare from the boy next to you, but it disappeared quickly when you gently kissed his shoulder. "If you want to go back, we can." You tell him honestly. "You probably need it more than I do."

"No, today was slow. Or well, Friday was." He corrected.

"Hey, no one likes people like that." You playfully tell him.

"Shut up." He shook his head, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You shut your eyes and just told yourself to enjoy him while you had him there next to you. It wasn't often anymore. It sucked, how so much changed in just a year. The both of you getting put into opposite schedule classes in school didn't help either. Suddenly, the distance the both of you lived from each other seemed like hundreds of miles, the both of you had perfected the near touch in the school halls, and secret keeping had became something you were now a pro at.

"So," you began, "no new stories?"

"Not really." Peter answered. "What about you?"

You shrugged. "Boring day filled with annoying people I'd rather avoid. You sure that spider's dead? I'd let it bite me so I could be your Spider partner."

"Yes I'm sure." Peter chuckled before frowning. "But you already know I don't want you fighting with me. So stop trying to come up with ways to give yourself superpowers."

"I'm just saying, if it'd give me more time to spend with you, I wouldn't care what kind of power I had." You sighed. "But I know. I guess I'll just have to keep waking you up at three AM and bringing you here."

"I complain, but you know I love it. I'd rather spend time with you than none at all." Peter admitted softly.

"I know." You said, snuggling into his side as the both of you looked up, trying to see past the smog of the city to the stars behind it.

The both of you liked to imagine that nothing in the world was wrong whenever you layed there together.  No deadlines, no stress or anxiety. No evil or oncoming threats. It was only you and Peter, like it had been before when the both of you were just kids and blissfully unaware of anything other than the fact that you loved each other more than anything in the world and never wanted to leave each other's side.

Whatever Peter went through, you were right there next to him and vice versa. Through thick and thin. And even though now was one of those thin times, you knew you would never let go of Peter's hand. That the both of you would always find a way to keep your bond strong and no matter what got thrown, the two of you would find a way to slingshot it back and find a way back to normal. Or whatever the new normal was.

"Promise me something?" Peter broke the silence again.

"Hm?" You glanced up, opening your eyes.

A small smile spread across your lips as Peter turned to face you, his hand pushing back your hair. You would've froze that moment if you could; just you and Peter completely alone in the closest thing to nature you could get in the middle of Queens, the sun rising just behind the boy you were lying across from. It felt so perfect.

"Stay with me?"

"Of course." You answered with a short laugh, a little confused. "You'd be crazy if you ever thought I'd leave."

"No Y/N, I mean stay with me." He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something else, but the look of hesitation briefly crossed his face.

Your breath hitched for a moment as you realized what he was trying to say. You knew he didn't want to mess anything up or force something that wasn't there, but the both of you knew that could never happen.

"Okay Peter," you whispered. "I promise."

A relieved smile stretched across his lips and Peter closed his eyes as you snaked your arm around him and started playing with the golden brown curls on the back of his head.

"May's going to be up soon, if you wanna leave."

"No." He said softly, securing his grip on you. "She'll know where we are. Just stay. You promised."

"In more ways than one." You laughed lightly. "I always will."

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

[thatgeekyemo]

Road To Redemption

peter parker x reader ∣ 4.1k

summery: You had been given a mission. One you'd found a reason to rather die than follow through.

warning: [Potential Trigger Warning] light language, violence, thoughts of self-harm

Even with the blindfold, you knew exactly where you were.

The cool metal of the chair you were sitting in sent a shiver down your spine and a grimace contorted on your features the more you became conscious, the more you became aware of the dull throbbing in your head from where they hit you. You flexed your fingers, the only thing you could do because your wrists were bound with rope. As well as your legs.

"Hellooo?" You sang out, hearing your voice reverberate against the walls in a slight echo. Sighing, you blinked behind the fabric that was keeping you in the dark before deciding to keep your eyes shut. You couldn't hear anything yet, but you knew once they  looked at the cameras and saw you were awake, the footsteps would come immediately.

You laid your head back, the metal cold against your neck and making goosebumps appear on your skin. You gulped, the sound loud in your ears in the silence. You figured since the chair you were in wasn't too warm, you hadn't been there long. You must've woke up before they thought you would.

You bit your tongue as you thought. There really wasn't anyone to say goodbye too, because you knew the odds were against you; you knew weren't leaving this room alive. The only person you would've bothered to talk to one last time was—

You stopped your thoughts when you heard the door open, bringing light so bright with it, it was almost blinding even with the blindfold before footsteps entered the room and the door closed again. You quickly erased your face of any emotion. It wasn't hard, you were conditioned to do so your entire life.

"You know Y/N," you bit back a scowl. You would recognize that slimy voice anywhere. "When I heard there was a rat in the business, I never would've thought it would've been you."

"Rat? Please," you scoffed, ignoring the pain in your head and ringing in your ears that only worsened when you spoke. "I'm more of a snake. Fox, even—" you jumped as a sharp stinging sensation spread through your cheek, holding in any noises that would give away you felt any pain. "Child abuse? I think that's a new low. Even lower than making a kid commit murder, I mean, yeesh," You felt two fingers tightly grab either sides of your jaw, squeezing, and you felt his hot breath fan across your face before he spoke.

"I've dealt with your mouth for too long. I would've cut out that tongue of yours if Boss wouldn't have had my head. But now that you're a traitor to us all, I can do whatever I want to you." He ripped off your blindfold, a few strands of your hair with it. You forced yourself to open your eyes despite not getting used to the light in the room and stare into his.

Nothing about Roman had changed. He was still a pale man with greasy blonde hair, yellow teeth, and still looked like a ferret more and more each day. He was still cruel and abusive. Unforgiving. That's why he was Boss' second in command.

"You've failed your mission Y/N. You let us all down. We all had such high hopes for you, as insufferable as you are, you could've gone places, maybe even have my job one day."

"Your job is boring," you raised your eyebrows, challengingly staring into his eyes, and maybe not feeling as intimidated as you should've been even though you were tied down with no space to even move your limbs. "You're basically a glorified lapdog, you even go out on coffee runs. I get the fun stuff, when's the last time you've blackmailed a senator into passing a law by threatening to show her husband photos of her cheating and got away with it? I honestly don't even think I was born yet."

This time, you saw the blow coming. The other side of your face this time. You closed your eyes on the impact, your face no doubt as red hot as the burning felt. But you just rolled your neck, licked the inside of your cheek, and opened your eyes again to try and alleviate the pain. This time, you knew the joking had to stop. They wanted information, and you knew of the ways they usually got it.

"What's the real reason why you haven't killed Peter Parker?" Roman growled, a hand shooting out to grip the back of the chair and push you back so that your weight was only supported by the two back legs, the man leaning over you intimidatingly, his lips turned down in a scowl. "We sent you to get rid of Spider-Man. Because that's your job. You've been protecting him. Why?"

"Have you ever thought about maybe he doesn't deserve to die?" You asked hypothetically. "If you want to make the deal so bad, go somewhere that's not New York, so Spider-Man won't crash your little party."

"There's so much you don't know kid, Spider-Man isn't just someone we wanted out of the way so he wouldn't cause trouble. A little while back, he interrupted a weapons trade, threw some of our best guys in jail. One of them being Boss' daughter. Boss personally wants him dead." He dropped the chair back down, slamming it harshly against the floor and you braced your neck so it wouldn't snap forward. You kept your eyes trained forward as Roman began to circle around you. "You've completed missions in less than two hours before. It's been more than a week, each day you come up with dumbass excuses. So tell me;" he stopped in front of you after he had come full circle, bending down to meet you face level. "Why isn't he six feet in the ground by now?

"Could it be you had the sudden epiphany that you would be able to run from us? Or," a cold smile appeared on his face as you continued to stare him down, your fists clenched tightly. "Does the cold-blooded mercenary have a crush, and you thought you could ride off into the sunset with your superhero boyfriend?"

You tried to contain the fire in your eyes, unknowing how successful you were exactly. "Right. Like I'm good enough for him. The Web-Head would be an idiot to fall for me." You lied through your teeth, the words coming out of your mouth as natural like silk from a spider. The words were partially true, Peter being the poor idiot who fell for the wrong girl.

"But he did, didn't he?" You didn't answer, instead clenching your jaw as Roman stood up. "Tell me where he is."

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" You growled. This was a complete lie. It was Tuesday, by now it had to be at least noon. He was most likely in school.

"Last chance Y/N, or I'm doing this my way."

"I don't know where he is." You stated firmly, your voice low and unnerving. This time you flinched as you saw the fist aimed for your face. You've taken worse hits than this, but when the hand connected with your jaw, making your head rattle and momentarily dull your senses, tasting the blood in your mouth, it made you question why you even let yourself be in this position in the first place. But you shook away the thought. If you were given the chance to redo your mission, you wouldn't change a decision you made.

"Fine." Roman pulled out a phone from his pocked and held it up for you to see. "I guess it's my way. I was hoping it would be, this is going to be way more fun." It took you a second to realize that he was holding up your phone, your vision still a little blurred from the punch.

You clenched your jaw to refrain from biting your tongue as you watched him bypass your password and go into your contacts. You wished there was a way you could get out of the ropes binding you in place, but it felt like they had searched you head to toe, confiscating all the weapons you usually kept on your body.

"Just sending a little message to Lover Boy, that's all," Roman said, glancing evilly in your direction when he noticed you staring him down like you had the power to burn holes into his skull. "Let's see how long it takes Spider-Man to show up and save you, hm?"

Your chest started to rise and fall with heavier breaths, both from anger and sadness. "He won't come." You spoke to Roman's back. He had started to leave the room.

"And what makes you so sure?"

"He doesn't care about me. He probably wants me dead as much as you do right now." The words were like a punch to the gut in their own, bitter in your mouth to admit that they were the truest words you've probably spoken in your entire life.

"Don't try lying to me now, girl, I have messages that say otherwise." He shook your phone in his hand as if to draw more attention to the electronic.

"I'm not lying." You called back. "If Spider-Man shows up, it won't be to save me. It'll be to take you down. Or he won't show up at all."

"It doesn't matter if that's the case, you've already unmasked him for us." He grinned, the expression cruel and mocking. "Either way, Peter Parker is going to be dead by the end of the week." And with that, Roman opened the door again, the blinding sunlight filling the room for a few moments before the door slammed shut, leaving you in nearly complete darkness.

A slew of curses ran through your brain. You wanted to yell, to scream. You knew you had to give them something so they didn't find you any more suspicious than you were starting to seem. It was the third day after you were assigned to kill Spider-Man. You figured that you would've taken them down from the inside by the end of the week, and that them knowing Peter's name wouldn't have been too much of a problem. But you got distracted, you let yourself get too caught up in his touch, stolen kisses... a whirlwind romance that shouldn't have been your story to live.

You lied to Peter. Manipulated him. He fell for deceit and lies that were intricately entwined with twisted truth. It all happened so fast, you never thought you could feel the way you did when you were with him. You still don't know what Spider-Man saw in you that made him trust you with his identity, but you wished you saw it in yourself.

You willed the tears not to come, instead focusing on the throbbing of your increasingly swelling lip. That's the source of the blood, at least, you thought as you felt it drip down your chin. You closed your eyes, and began to do something you hadn't ever thought you would do in your entire life. You began to pray.

Not to one God in particular, but to any entity that would spare any time to listen to you. You prayed that Spider-Man or the police picked up on the clues you left, that May and Ned wouldn't get hurt, that Peter's identity would stay safe, and with all the mental strength you had, you prayed that Spider-Man wouldn't show up. That Peter would be smart enough to stay out of danger, let you rot. You deserved it, after what you put him through, and you prayed he let his anger get the best of him, that he would ignore you. Because he was better off without you.

You could live a million lifetimes and never be good enough for Peter Parker.

You had no way of tracking the time, but you knew you must've been sitting there for hours. The light coming through the sliver under the door had died down, meaning the sun was setting. Your headache was dying down, but you were still in pain, your butt numb, your fingertips and toes starting to become cold from the tight ropes slowly cutting off your circulation.

You hadn't tried to move, hadn't tried to escape, instead you just sat there. Waiting.

Waiting for Roman to come back to through that door, hold a gun to your head, and pull the trigger.

You wondered if Peter ever saw the text. You hoped if he had, that he chose the right thing and decided not to show. And if he hadn't... you didn't want to think about that. But the longer you sat there, the longer you realized that this was Peter you were thinking about. The boy with the hero complex of ten men, and the guilt complex of twenty.

There was no way Peter would let you die, even if he hated you from the bottom of his heart, you knew he couldn't bear for a life to be lost because of him. That would eat him from the inside out, and he would find ways to blame himself even if it wasn't his fault, even if he was the victim the entire time.

You hated that this was all true. That you knew that in a matter of time, Spider-Man would come flipping into the base, taking out guy after guy, not even thinking about if it would be too much for him to handle, all for you. Just to make sure you were safe.

But what then? Surely he wouldn't forgive you. And if he did, you wouldn't let him. Because you didn't even think you could forgive yourself.

Now you started to count the hours. One. Three. Seven.

Your eyes were half lidded as the bright light started to fill the room again, a beacon of light in the darkness you were sitting in the entire night. Your throat was dry from your previous lack of self care, and your headache was back from your refusal to fall asleep. Some part of you wanted yourself to suffer for everything you did. Not just for Peter, but for the lives you took, the people you hurt without question or looking in to see if they deserved it. You were only a teenage girl now, but you were already a deadly being ever since Boss had found you in that bunker in Russia, a small child left to die, covered in the blood of the other children that were in there with you, crying in the corner over the horrific acts you had done.

Your entire life, you were only made to kill, and you didn't want to be only a weapon anymore. You knew there was no way to erase your past, and the easiest way for you to find peace was to erase your future.

You hung your head, the silence nearly deafening at this point, the sound of you breathing the only sound in the room.

Some part of you felt it was crazy to be smiling, but night had fell again. You thought maybe this was it, maybe everything was going to work out, that Peter had made a smart decision and not to act on impulse.

But you always did have the worst timing.

The smile immediately fell from your lips when sounds of gunshots pierced the air, hurting your head and making you flinch. Shouts and the footsteps of multiple people running followed soon after, and you knew exactly what had happened. The fight had just started.

A tear ran down your face. The first one to have been shed throughout the entire time you were in that room, over twenty-four hours. The damn boy couldn't resist, you knew Peter couldn't live with that on his conscience.

You wanted to wipe it away so bad, but you couldn't move. The fact that you had to remind yourself you were glued to one spot made another tear stream down your face. And another one came when you realized that Spider-Man was out there, fighting. Maybe not necessarily for you, but he was going to find you. Another one came. And another. And another, until silent tears were steadily running down your face, quiet sobs heaved in your chest, weak gasps escaping your mouth as you tried your hardest to stop.

The gunshots abruptly came to an end. So did the shouts and the footsteps.

Everything was silent. Too silent. Until there was a rattling at the doorknob in front of you. Your head jerked up, staring at the door with wide eyes, but you closed them and shrank into yourself when after another brief silence, there was loud bang as the door was forced —kicked— open.

Spider-Man was out of breath, his fists raised, prepared for another fight, but all he was met with was you and an empty room. Tension quickly filled the air, and he didn't become any less guarded as he cautiously stepped forward, saying nothing to break the silence. In fact, you were the one to do so, your voice coming out rough and broken.

"You should've left me to die."

He didn't say anything, stopping in front of you. You couldn't bring yourself to meet the white eyes of his mask, knowing he was staring right at your beaten face after he had crouched down. You didn't know if you had actually heard him letting out a breath of relief or if it was something your brain wanted to hear.

He moved his hands to the rope, finding the knot under your right wrist, but he hesitated as his fingers hovered above it.

"That wouldn't have made me any better than them." You had never heard Peter's voice so emotionless but somehow at the same time so bitter and full of animosity.

He then immediately got to work on the knot, it taking a couple of tries, but he loosened it enough for him to be able to pull the rope off. He then repeated the actions three more times, freeing your other hand and your legs. The relief of the constriction being gone also bringing a stinging sensation to your red and raw skin from where it had been cutting into your wrists and ankles the entire time.

Pain shot up your arms and legs as you tried to stretch, your wrists and fingers numb and your legs tingling. You could tell Peter wasn't sure what to do as he stood there in front of you, and you didn't blame him, but what you did know what that he wasn't going to leave until you did.

Seeing as you had no choice, you began to stand up. You didn't get far, however, your feet being asleep, and you nearly collapsed forward and would've hit the ground if Peter hadn't caught you.

"M'fine," you mumbled, grimacing through the pain and cringing at the lie as you pushed him off. You didn't deserve his help. You were a little unsteady on your feet, but you successfully were standing up.

"The police are going to be here any minute. So we need to go." He started back towards the door, but stopped when he noticed you weren't following him. "Come on—"

"You need to go." You told him, ignoring the way your voice cracked. "I'm just as much, if not more of a criminal than any of those guys out there. I shouldn't be let go, you shouldn't have come back for me."

"Y/N, you can't be serious." Peter's voice dropped, and when he saw just how serious you were, he let out a small huff of anger before grabbing your hand and forcing you to walk with him.

You stumbled the first few steps, walking through the doorway and onto the pier shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the moon. You had to get used to using your legs after a day of not using them, but once you did, you started to try to pull your hand out of his, but Peter seemed to have no intention of letting you go.

"Dammit! Just save yourself!" You nearly screamed at him. "I'm not worth it!"

Peter let go, it surprising you equally as much as it didn't, and he turned to you faster than you could blink.

"Don't you dare say you aren't worth it." You had to take a step back from the intensity of his voice, your foot hitting a pistol that must've been stray from the battle that took place just minutes ago and pushing it out of the way some. "Because I just mentally fought with myself, and guess which side won? The side that wanted you. I just took on nearly forty guys who, for the most part, were all armed, blindly. No back-up. Do you wanna know why? For you! So we are leaving now, whether you like it or not. Before I lose you again."

His voice was now thick with emotion, wavering and breaking that last sentence. You felt your eyes welling up with tears again as you stared speechless at the costumed boy in front of you. Closing your eyes, you felt yourself nod your head as an okay. You didn't know if you could bear hurting him even more than you already had, and you didn't want to find out. But when you opened your eyes, just as Peter outstretched his hand again, you saw movement over his shoulder.

Without any second thought, you pushed Spider-Man away. Just as the bullet ripped through the nighttime air. You dived for the gun you remember bumping into, rolling and grabbing it, both hands wrapped around the handle. And before they could act, before Spider-Man could act, your sights had already found your target and you pulled the trigger. You hoped that it was loaded, at least one of your prayers coming true as the small flash of light and the air piercing sound appeared as the bullet left the barrel of the gun in your hands. The kickback was a little too much for your numb fingers, and you dropped the weapon, but it didn't matter. Because you had hit your intended target right where you wanted.

You shot to kill.

You only registered Roman's body as it crumbled to the ground, pistol of his own falling out of his hand. Slowly, shakily, you stood back up. The distant sounds of sirens had appeared, but you didn't hear them for long before you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, holding you tight, and then the force of you moving through the air was so loud against your ears you could hear anything but the howling winds.

You did it again, like the embedded instinct in your body had told you to do. But this time, instead of someone innocent, it was someone who deserved it. Because if after all he went through, after all you put him through, you weren't going to let Peter Parker die in front of you. Not after the lengths he had gone to to save you in the first place. As long as you were alive, Peter carried your life with him. And you would happily, without a doubt, die, protecting him.

Because that was the most you could do. The only way you could ever repay Peter, make up for what you've done, feel better about yourself, would be to do anything for him. To give up your life, for him.

And as you were swinging in the air, you wondered how long it would take Peter to forgive you, if he ever could. How long before he asks to start over. How long before you start a life knowing you'll never be good enough, never deserve the love of a boy as hurt and broken but strong and stubborn like him.

Maybe death was the easiest way to move on, but you also knew nothing worthwhile ever came easily. You had to accept that, because there was no way Peter would let you turn yourself in, let alone take your life. If you wanted to prove your worth, you needed to face what you had done. Maybe you could atone for everything you had done, and maybe it could be enough.

Things weren't going to get better with Peter for a while. A long while. But you knew that he was going to help you, make sure you got the help you needed. And if Peter thought that you were worth that, maybe, just maybe, you could believe it for him.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu #angst #peter parker angst

[thatgeekyemo]

Paper Love

tasm!peter parker x reader

This is a little procrastination inspired, self indulgent fic I wrote. May turn it into a series depending on how the mood strikes me... Please enjoy and as always, let me know what you think lovelies.

This is a SFW preference for female reader with TASM!Peter Parker. This work does not contain smut, however it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule my blog is only for those over the age of 18 (or the age of majority in your locale). As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

swearing

mentions of OC character death

I definitely maybe included my own very specific coffee order (like I said, it's a self-indulgent fic)

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You slipped into the backdoor of the bookshop, relishing in the stagnant air. While it wasn’t warm, it was nowhere near as cold as the wind whipped air outside and your chapped skin was grateful for the shelter. It took you a few seconds of fumbling to find the right breakers, but just a moment later the whole space was filled with light.

You’d never get over how beautiful the shop looked when you first opened up. The cafe lights and lamps casting a soft glow over the shelves and overstuffed chairs. With the dark winter clouds looming overhead, it seemed even more magical.

But there wasn’t time to dawdle. You still needed to shelve your newest order and dust, not to mention the floor could use mopping if you had the time.

Setting your bag in the stool by the register, you flipped up the portion of the counter that allowed you to access the rest of the store, and got to work.

Two hours later and the store was spotless, the weather unchanging, and the front door unlocked. Mondays were always slow, so you usually worked them alone. You couldn’t afford to pay the rest of the staff on those days, nor could you afford to be closed. So you happily resigned yourself to a day of quiet reading in your favorite place in the world.

From under the register, you pulled your most recent read, a worn and tattered copy of The Outsiders, one of your comfort books. However before you could delve too far into the word of the Curtis gang, you were interrupted by the the chime of the little brass bell above the door.

Your standard shop greeting was perched on the edge of your lips, but you dispatched with it when you saw it was only Zema from the cafe next door. They were dressed in their work uniform, an unsettlingly purple t-shirt overtop a pair of khakis. But of course they’d personalized it as usual. Pride, BLM, and They/Them pins stood out on the black apron they wore, along with an enamel pin that fancied the likeness of RBG.

They smiled sadly as you set down your battered novel and made your way around the counter to pull them into a hug.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, babe,” Zema frowned when you pulled away, “I was totally coming and then Mr. Hardass Boss wouldn’t let me off. But did you get the flowers we sent? Everybody chipped in.”

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah. They were beautiful, Z. Thanks.”

They continued to fill you in on the last week’s happenings that you’d missed. Apparently Z’s least favorite coworker failed a drug test and got fired.

“I mean, even though it’s total bullshit, not to mention an invasion of my privacy, I can’t complain that it was what finally got rid of Leah, god I hated that bitch.”

You were only half listening when you interrupted them, “Hey, do you mind watching the shop for me? I think I’m gonna grab a latte real quick.”

“Of course, girlie,” they smiled, plopping down into one of the armchairs.

“I’ll be just a second, so if anyone comes in, just tell them I’ll be right back.”

Z rolled their eyes, “Just shut up and go, I’ve got it.”

You offered one last smile before slipping out the front door and into the cold air. WIthout your coat, you hurried down the sidewalk to the shop next door. With your head tucked down and arms wrapped around you, you didn’t notice the man coming out of the cafe, and you ran into him hard.

Your ass met cold, hard concrete, but thankfully you caught yourself before anything other than your ego or tailbone was damaged.

“Shit,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. The heels of your palms were stinging and you saw small cross hatches of blood blooming across the skin there.

“Oh, my god. I’m so, so sorry,” the stranger knelt down to your level, checking to see if you were alright. Despite the icy air, your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment for not watching where you were going.

But when you looked into the stranger’s eyes, your face felt hot for a completely different reason. He was stunningly attractive. Fluffy hair sat atop a handsome face with just the right amount of scruff. His honeyed brown eyes searched your face for an answer to the question you hadn’t realized he’d asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, feeling a bit like an exaggerated cartoon character as you shook your head back and forth, trying to focus on something other than his delectableness.

“Are you okay?” he held out a large hand, one that wasn’t holding his coffee cup, and you placed your wrist in it, not wanting to smear the cute man with your hand blood.

He pulled you to your feet like it was nothing.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m ok. I feel a little silly, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” His voice was addicting, and you would kill to hear him read aloud to you.

“A couple bruises to my ass and ego aren’t going to kill me.”

He laughed at that, “Ok, ok. Sorry, I’ll let you get inside.”

With one final smile and a lingering brush on your clothed forearm, he was gone.

In the coffee shop, you used some of their comically small napkins to stop the bleeding on your palms as you ordered, a large caramel latte with an extra shot and nondairy milk. Your Monday morning special ever since you’d started working at the bookstore.

With bloody napkins and latte in hand, you jogged back to your own store, careful to keep your eyes up this time and not have a repeat of the incident outside the coffee shop.

When you walked in, Z was noticeably on edge. They stood as soon as you entered, rushing over to you at the door.

“Super cute guy browsing over there, asked about a specific book but I told him he’d have to wait for you. By the way, he’s totally your type,” they giggled, giving your ass a playful smack as they exited the door you just entered from.

You got back behind the counter just as the customer emerged from the stacks on the right side of your store, and you nearly choked on your drink when you saw the same man you nearly plowed down outside the coffee shop.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he obviously recognized you and he made his way to the counter. Again you felt embarrassed, and if you could have crawled under the counter and hidden until he left, you would have

“Hi,” he grinned cheekily, and you offered your best attempt at a smile.

“Hi,” you mimicked, mentally cursing for sounding like an idiot.

“You-you work here?” he asked, playful look on his face.

“Yeah. Well, actually I own the place now,” you were just digging your hole deeper and deeper.

“Now?”

And here comes the coup de grace, “Um, I just took it over from my Aunt. She died last week.”

If there was any way to completely halt a flirtatious conversation, you’d never seen it happen faster than bringing up a recently deceased relative. But instead of growing uncomfortable, his face dropped, and he looked legitimately concerned for you.

“I’m so sorry. I know what it’s like to lose somebody,” he ducked his head, looking up through his lashes.

You shrugged, “I miss her, yeah, but I’ve made my peace with it. At least I still have this place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he easily picked up on your reluctance to talk about it. “This is a great place here. Way better than the shops in the city.”

“You’re from the city?” you asked, sipping at the sweet drink in your hands.

“Uh, yeah. I’m actually here because you have a book that I’ve been looking for, well forever.”

“Oh, uh, wow. What is it?” you slid off your stool, ready to go grab the book as soon as he named it.

“Um, Tamerlane and Other Poems by Poe. Please tell me you still have it and I didn’t take a 2 hour bus ride at five am this morning for nothing,” his plump bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth and you were distracted for a minute thinking about how you’d love to bite that lip.

“You’re kidding! I knew it wouldn’t last long, but I just put it on the website last night,” you were shocked.

“Yeah, yeah, I set up an alert on my computer so that if one ever came up, I’d be ready.”

You grinned, turning to the shelf behind you. It’s where you kept your most valuable and vintage books. The copy had been brought in as part of an estate sale nearly a month ago. But with your aunt getting sick and then taking over the store, planning the funeral, it hadn’t been your priority.

Your hand closed on the worn linen cover and you smiled. It was the last book you’d read.

At first you were terrified. You knew, despite its far less than pristine condition, how valuable that book was. It was scary to even breathe on it, let alone touch it. But Dana had assured you it was totally fine. Hell, she even offered to let you keep it. You settled for pouring over it for hours.

“I have to confess, when this first came in I read it myself.”

“Really? You’re a Poe fan?”

You laughed, “Does a raven tap on a chamber door?”

He rolled your eyes at your bad attempt at a joke and chuckled a little.

“Sorry, sorry. But yes, I love Poe.”

You slid the book across the oak counter and let him inspect it. The pages were all intact, somewhat miraculously, but several were torn and frayed, and the whole thing had taken on a yellow tinge. The cover was wearing though in some places. But it didn’t make the words any less beautiful.

“Wow,” he sighed, his long fingers carefully sifting through the pages.

“It’s been re-bound, likely sometime in the 40’s. Obviously it’s not in pristine condition, but-”

“It’s beautiful.”

He was completely enthralled, so you let him take a moment, working on your coffee. Finally he snapped out of his trance, remembering you were there all of a sudden. His face flushed crimson and he ran a hand down the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I guess I just-”

“It’s alright. I did the same thing the first time.”

He smiled at that, before reaching for his wallet.

“Ok, so how much are you asking?”

You frowned and set your coffee down. This was your least favorite part.

“Copies like these usually go for, er, $300 dollars,” you said, but of course it came out sounding like a question.

“Ok, I’ll take it,” he said, and you couldn’t hide the shock that flashed on your face.

He pulled out a card, “Do you take plastic?”

“Yep,” you went to take the card from his hand, but something caught his eye. Before you could even process, his hand was on your wrist and your hand was open, palm side up.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, looking at the raw scrape. Both of them had stopped bleeding a while ago, but your hands still ached and the skin was sore.

You felt hot again, partially from his skin on yours, but also because of the embarrassment.

“Well, I picked ‘em up there on the sidewalk,” you cringed. You didn’t even know this beautiful stranger’s name, and yet you knew you were in for a scolding.

“I thought you said you weren’t hurt,” he furrowed his brow, leaning in to examine your hand closely. You could feel his breath on your skin and it sent goosebumps up your arm.

“It’s just a couple of scrapes,” you pulled away, albeit you didn’t want to. He released your hand and looked at your face now.

“Both hands?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I’ll clean ‘em up after you leave. Really it’s not a big deal at all.”

He frowned, and you could tell he was thinking about it, but he finally sighed. “Promise you’ll clean them?”

“Yes. Cross my heart and hope to die,” you mimed a cross over your heart. He smiled again. It didn’t matter that it was barely breaking double digits outside or that a thick blanket of clouds completely covered the sky, you’d found the sun and all its warmth right here in the man in front of you.

You took the card that had fallen on the counter and picked it up, preparing to stick it in the machine once you’d punched in the special order.

“Mr. Peter B. Parker, ey?” you asked, reading the name off the card.

He blushed a little, and ran his hands through his crazy hair. “Yeah, that’s me. But Peter or Pete is fine.”

“Okay then Peter,” you punched in the price of the item on your screen.

“You know, you have me at a disadvantage here. You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he leaned in, resting his chin on his hand.

“It’s (y/n).”

“(y/n)...” he said it like he was testing it out. The way it sounded almost musical coming from his lips.

You finished entering the information and you slid the credit card in the machine. Once the confirmation came up, you flipped the screen to face Peter so he could sign for the purchase and choose to leave a donation and all the things that come with making a credit card purchase.

Your fingers wrapped a few layers of tissue paper around the book before sliding it into a brown craft paper shopping bag stamped with the store logo. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers holding a business card to slip into the bag.

It wasn’t like you to give your number to a customer. You’d never done it before, and you never thought you’d do it, ever. But something about him was magnetic, celestial even. In these last few minutes, you’d felt more seen and understood than you had most of your life, all because of Peter B. Parker. Not to mention Zema would kill you if you didn’t.

So you pulled a pen from the cup under the desk and when he wasn’t looking, braced on the shelf there, scratched out the digits of your number, hopefully legibly, before slipping it inside the bag along with the book.

There was no receipt, he’d chosen to have it emailed, so you slid the bag over the counter and smiled.

“Thanks for taking it off my hands,” you joked, feeling like you could fly when your fingertips brushed his.

He smiled one last genuine smile at you, “No problem, (y/n).”

Peter didn’t unwrap his purchase until he got home, knowing he needed to change and shower and shed the bus smell before meeting Aunt May for dinner. He slid the book out, excited to read a few pages, but a flutter of blue caught his eye. He picked up the business card and smiled. It reminded him of you.

He kicked himself for not asking for your number, but after what happened to Gwen, he hadn’t allowed himself to get close to someone like that again. And yet, he had been closer than ever to breaking his rule, closing the distance.

Then he flipped the card and his stomach did a somersault. Ten digits, scratched into the back of the card. He’d never seen your handwriting before, but he knew it was yours.

His hand hovered over his phone, debating whether or not he should pick it up and add your number, or if he should tuck the card into his nightstand, another fond memory to be forgotten.

He twirled the card in his hand as he laid back on his bed, his heart and head telling him two different things. Being torn in two directions, one side finally won...

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#aww I loved every moment of this #tasm #tasm!peter parker x reader #thatredheadwriter