figure it out (2) - p.p.
AGAIN, WARNING FOR NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!
pairing: andrew garfield! peter parker x fem! reader
summary: one night on patrol, peter meets another masked figure. how far he’ll go to figure out who she is, he’s not sure. maybe that’s fate’s job.
tw: mentions of violence, mention of weed but for like not even a second. slight smut because peter parker is sexy.
a/n: part two, babies. i hope you enjoy it. this fic was a test of my self control and i passed said test! also, the gif below is not mine <3
IT SEEMED LIKE EVERY NIGHT HE WAS OUT, SO WAS SHE. Whether or not it was purposeful on either end, Peter Parker was unsure, but he wasn’t necessarily bothered by it. Quite the opposite, really; he’d crack open his window and swing out into the city, waiting until he saw the silhouette of her figure perched on some random rooftop, where he’d hop and sit beside her for the night’s patrol. Disregarding his mission to figure out who she was, she was simply good company. Maybe he didn’t have to figure her out. Maybe he could just spend the time with his elegant stranger in peaceful ignorance.
But that voice of hers. It was like his mind was replaying a pleasant dream from years ago, but pulling back every second he got close to remembering where it was from. He addressed her as Cam, simply because Chameleon (what the people seemed to call her) was too much of a mouthful, however he had joked about calling her ‘Mary Jane’ due to the occasional times he’d catch her when her eyes were bloodshot and her mind was loopy.
This time, however, she wasn’t out. Peter was left to sit on the roof of the apartment building he met her on, feet dangling off the edge, eyes flickering between the deep blue midnight sky and the bustling streets of New York City. Seeing no movement across the other rooftops made him frown under his mask; every night without fail, Cam had joined him for patrol. Why was tonight different? Was she busy? Did something happen? Did she have plans? Who was she with? Why did he care?
Whatever, he thought, outstretching his arm and swinging himself to the next building over. It’s not like they were partners in crime, or some kind of duo, or boyfriend and girlfriend, or whatever image he had made up of them in his mind. Just two masked vigilantes. Hanging out on rooftops. Every single night for three months without fail. With oddly sexual tension that fueled his fire. Maybe it was the black latex suit that did it for him...
A door slamming made his eyes snap towards the streets, where he watched a woman exit out of what might have been a bar before she paused on the street corner. Lowering himself down, Peter narrowed his eyes and watched her walk down the road, swaying slightly and stumbling over her feet. He swung to the next building over.
Was that... was that Y/N? he wondered to himself as he stared her down. He was almost certain it was, except he had never seen her dressed so nice in his life, except for the passing glance (or two, or three) he had taken during their High School prom. As he stared at her stumbling under the yellow streetlights, he had the flash of worry that she’d twist her ankle in the high heels she was wearing.
He then blinked, feeling the hairs on his arm stand up and a chill run up the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Swinging towards the darkness she had disappeared into, he landed on the concrete and stalked forward, finding himself following her further and further into the depths of the streets of New York. Where did she go?
“Stop calling me!” he heard her say, her voice cracking on the final word. “Leave me alone, you creep.”
“I — I told you already,” he heard her mumble. “That was like—” she hiccuped. “seriously fucked up.”
More silence. Peter silently continued moving forward until he saw her, the edge of her face barely illuminated by the white light of the phone pressed against her ear.
“No,” she said. “I’m — I’m way far from the place, now, you won’t be able to.”
Peter continued on, and when she turned around, he hastily concealed himself behind the dumpster in the alley she stood in. The streetlight had flickered on, and she was now clearly visible.
“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head. “You — you are crazy. And — and you need to — to...”
Her voice trailed off. And then... footsteps. Peter latched himself onto the edge of the building out of her line of vision and crawled upwards so he could see the other end of the alley way; following an ominous shadow was a burly sort of man with broad shoulders and scruffy hair. He held a phone to his ear. Y/N didn’t move.
“You...” she muttered. “You stay away from me.”
“C’mon, hon,” he purred. She took a step back. Peter narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be like this. Let’s just calm down, and—”
“No, no,” she shook her head rather fervently. “You don’t just — you can’t do what you did. It’s — it’s violating, and gross, and—”
“You’re drunk, and you’re blowing things way out of proportion,” he said calmly, looming forwards. He watched her put one foot behind her, slipping her phone into her purse and tensing her shoulders. The man put a hand out, so close he could touch her now, but Y/N swiped at it. The man narrowed his brows. “Don’t be like that.”
“Leave me alone,” she slurred again. The man’s nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath, pressing his lips together.
“C’mon, babe—” He strided forward and grabbed her forearms, fingers tightening around the soft skin. Peter, clenching his jaw, leaped down from his perched position and landed on the other side of the alley way. The man’s eyes darted behind Y/N and landed on him.
“You heard her, man,” he said, shaking his head.
Y/N glanced behind at him, her eyes bulging at the sight of of the red-and-blue suit, before she licked her lips and said tiredly, “I got it.”
And then, before Peter could move, she grabbed the man by the wrist and twisted; he jolted back, his grip releasing, before he narrowed his gaze and charged at her again. Peter felt like he kept jolting forward, preparing to make a move if he had to, but he was mesmerized while he watched her; within thirty seconds, she had evaded any and all hits from the man, and Peter stood in a trance as she casually dodged each of the man’s strikes.
“I’m all good, Spider-Man, you can go,” she said awkwardly at one point, turning around to speak directly to him. Behind her, the man dove towards her again. She turned around and easily caught his fist in her palm and pushed him forward, before she pushed him down and straddled his torso, hitting him twice in the face until her knuckles had blood on them. Peter stared in awe.
When she got to her feet, ignoring the groaning from the man on the ground, she seemed shocked that Peter was still standing there. She gave him a funny looked, before she wiped the dirt off of her hands and said in a tired voice, “Really. You can go. I’m good.”
“Let me walk you home,” he insisted. She pursed her lips. “Just to make sure. I mean, it seems like you can defend yourself plenty, but... it’s — it’s dark.”
“Okay,” she gave in, stepping out of the alleyway. Peter followed her wordlessly, falling into step with her. Sighing, she tensed up and wrapped her arms around herself, clenching her jaw at the bite of the cold air.
“Uhm,” he said, unsure how to speak to her when he was still recovering from the shock of seeing her deck the grown man. Seeing that she was still struggling to walk in a straight line, he offered, “I can swing you home, if you want. It’s faster, and... maybe less cold.”
“Oh, I dunno—”
“It’s fun,” he told her. “And I, uh... I won’t drop you or anything, it’s perfectly safe.”
“Okay,” she agreed tentatively. Peter grinned under his mask, ignoring the thumping within his chest, before he carefully snaked his arm around her waist. She shyly wrapped her arms around him, her touch so warm he felt it bleed through his suit and into the depths of his skin.
“Okay,” he said as well, tightening his grip on her. Beaming, he glanced down at her and said, “Hold on tight, ‘kay?”
“If you say so — ah!” He shot out a hand, webbing them up into the starry night sky and carrying her in between sky scrapers, relishing in the way she had her arms squeezed tightly around his frame.
It was a bit difficult to ask her for directions to her apartment while they were fifty feet in the air, however after a little while it seemed she had gotten used to the swing of things (pun intended) and was able to tell him which window was hers. Opening the window, he carefully guided her inside, and when she finally got her feet on the ground, she tucked her hair behind her ears, her face flushed with adrenaline.
“Woah,” she breathed. Her appearance looked wild, her clothes out of sorts and her hair a right mess. Peter had the thought that he enjoyed seeing her in such a state. She kicked her heels off and turned around the place them on the ground; Peter watched her, sitting on the windowsill and glancing about at the posters on her walls. “That was... fucking awesome.”
Peter shrugged, grinning to himself. “Yeah.”
“Uhm, thanks for the, uh... the swing,” she giggled. Her cheeks looked rosy, and Peter wasn’t sure whether it was from the alcohol, the adrenaline, or... no, it wasn’t from him. That was wishful thinking.
“Sure thing,” he told her, wishing it wasn’t the middle of the night and that he wasn’t a stranger to her. “I, uh... I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Mmhm,” she said, smiling at him, the apples of her cheeks pronounced and her lips curled. “Bye, Spider-Man,” she then covered her face with her hands and said, “God, that sounds so weird.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he said smoothly as she dropped her hands from her face, and Peter was sure she was eyeing him down. He blamed the alcohol as he climbed out of her window, moving slower than usual in an attempt to stall his exit.
“Feel free to visit,” she told him, leaning on the window sill as he climbed out, running tongue over her bottom lip. He lifted his head up, surprised to have her so close; even with the mask covering his face, he could smell the sweet aroma of her perfume mixed with something that reminded him of Fireball. “If you want.”
“Yeah, okay,” he told her breathlessly, fighting the urge to rip off his mask and kiss her to death. He snapped a mental image of her in his mind. “I’ll... I’ll see you.”
“Bye,” she said, eyes shimmering. Peter thought of her his entire swing home.
WHY WERE THE only coffee places near his classes ridiculously overpriced and overcrowded? Getting in the back of the line of the Starbucks on campus, Peter was sure he was getting played by the system, because internally he was moaning and groaning about paying seven dollars for a cup of coffee, however he was still willingly doing it. He supposed that was life.
The bell on the door jingled behind him, and he simply took a step forward to make room for whoever it was. Holding his skateboard under his arm, he wondered if the other people in line could hear the music blasting through his earbuds and probably damaging his eardrums.
His eyes were drawn to the small television in the upper corner of the room, showing a news report of... well, him. Spider-Man, not Peter Parker. He watched the recording of himself swing across the streets of New York, lips twitching upwards unconsciously.
“He’s cool, huh?” came a familiar, sweet voice from behind him. He jumped and turned his head. It was Y/N, all bundled up with a beanie and heavy coat that engulfed her entirely. He blinked.
“Huh?” Peter said stupidly, pulling out his earbuds and staring down at her.
“Spider-Man,” she gestured to the television before she repeated, “He’s cool. Swingin’ around and everything.”
“Oh, yeah,” Peter nodded, glancing back up at the screen. “Super cool.”
“I like that song, by the way,” she said, and Peter unconsciously adjusted the earbud that remained in his ear. “I love The Strokes.”
“You do?” Peter’s brows raised, his lips curling upwards. She nodded her head, her eyes scanning the drink menu ahead of them. “That’s... that’s awesome. Yeah, I love them, too.”
“Seven dollars?” she muttered, eyes on the menu, clicking her tongue and digging through the bag on her shoulder. “Whatever, I’ll still pay it.”
“I was just thinking about that,” Peter told her as they moved up in the line. “About why they charge so much and why I’m still waiting in line.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “America, I guess.”
“True,” he shot her a grin before walking up to give his order. She followed suit, approaching the other cashier, and they seemed to step off to the side at the same time, waiting for their drinks. “Y’know, I think there’s a cheaper place down the road...”
“It’s a further walk,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders with a frown. “And my class is already a ten minute walk from here. And it’s snowing.”
“Yeah,” Peter hummed, before he cheekily said, “if I were Spider-Man, I’d just swing to class.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said, and Peter could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “I should ask him...”
“You know him?” Peter asked. He was playing with her at this point, he knew that, but she didn’t. He figured he’d have his fun. She preened, and Peter was sure his heart had stopped.
“Well,” she drawled out, smiling to herself. “We’ve met a few times...”
“Really?” he faked his shock, sending her look before grabbing his cup of coffee of the ledge after his name was called. “I’m jealous.”
“Yeah, well,” she rocked on her toes. “I’ll put it good word for you, Peter Parker.”
“Thanks,” he chuckled, stepping towards the exit. “I’ll see you around, okay? Say hi to Spider-Man for me.”
“See ya,” she waved, grinning. Skating to class, Peter suddenly didn’t mind the cold weather anymore.
Y/N HAD SEEMED partially surprised the next time Spider-Man showed up at her window. Peter was endlessly grateful that she remembered the full encounter, however she had explicitly told him that she hadn’t expected him to return. He had asked how she expected him to resist such an offer, to which she flushed and hid her face from him with a shrug.
As the weeks turned into months, every other night he showed up. More times than not, he spent his time helping her with her homework and then spending another three hours or so simply talking with her. Peter was sure he could listen to her talk for the rest of his life.
“Hi,” she had greeted him one night, hastily looking at him as he slid open the window on his own. She was hunched over a rather large, green textbook, her fingers clasped tightly around a mechanical pencil as she raced copy her notes down.
“Let me guess,” he hummed, webbing the textbook and pulling it towards him. She shot him a lackluster glare as he placed a hand over the title and looked away as though to test himself. “Psychology?”
“Yes, and give that back,” she said grumpily, and gave in quickly, tossing it to her. “I’ve got the biggest exam of my life tomorrow, and I haven’t studied at all because I’ve been — well, that’s not important, but—”
“You’ve been what?” he asked her nosily, sitting down on the open part of her desk, swinging his legs. “Staying up all night talking to a masked vigilante?”
“Well, yes,” she flushed but didn’t look up at him. “But... I actually met someone.”
Peter’s smile melted off his face from under his mask, his stomach dropping.
“Oh,” was all he said.
“Yeah,” she smiled to herself. “Well, I didn’t meet him, but... I saw him today and... had an epiphany.”
“Yeah,” she said, putting her pencil down for a moment and looking up at him, staring into his eyes... er, his mask. “I realized that I am profoundly attracted to him.”
“Hm,” Peter said, frowning under his mask.
“He, uh... he skates. And has good music taste, and...” she tapped his arm with the end of her pencil, “he thinks your cool.”
“Oh, yeah?” he said, hopping off her desk and crossing the room towards her bed, where he sat on the edge and crossed his legs. “Where’d that come up?”
“Well, I ran into him today at the Starbucks on the far end of campus,” Y/N told him, and Peter froze. No, he thought to himself. There’s no way. “And there was this news report of you on the TV. And so I told him I knew you, and he said that it was cool and that you were cool.”
“What’s, uhm...” He paused. He was digging his own grave, here. “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Peter,” she said simply, and Peter suddenly felt very lightheaded. “Peter Parker. I went to High School with him, actually, and I ran to him for the first time around month or so ago. I thought he was cute in High School, but then he got a girlfriend, so I guess I blocked him from my brain. But I’m pretty sure he’s single now.”
“Oh,” Peter hummed, letting himself flop back onto her bed, feeling the butterflies in his stomach take off. “That’s... that’s nice.”
“Sorry,” she shook her head to herself. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my... boy drama. I should really be studying, anyway.”
“No! No, I’m not bored!” he sat upright, looking her in the eyes when she turned around to look at him. “Talk to me about it all you want!”
“Hm,” she pursed her lips, eyeing him. Peter gulped. “It’s probably not worth it, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
She shrugged and turned around, picking up her pencil and continuing her notes. “He’s like way out of my league, so it’s sort of a lost cause.”
“I don’t think so,” Peter said absentmindedly. She turned around, one brow raised. Backpedaling, he said, “Well, I don’t know what he looks like, but still. You’re probably out of his league.”
“Mm,” she hummed. “Respectfully disagree, Spidey. If I’m a seven, he’s like... a nine. Point-five.”
“...why not a ten?”
“Because there’s a lot I don’t know about him,” she shrugged, her back facing him. “Leaving room for improvement.”
“Smart girl,” Peter hummed, hopping off her bed. She eyed him quickly, lips twitching up a bit at the comment. “I... should probably head out.”
“Aw, okay,” she said, frowning as he headed towards the window.
“Don’t spend all night doing work. Give yourself a break to like... feed yourself. Drink some water, maybe,” he said half jokingly. She sighed.
“I won’t even have time,” she told him, dragging her hands down her face. “I have to finish my notes for Psych, and then I have an entire lab to finish for Anatomy which is sure to take me all night, and then I have to study all of the earlier modules for Psych because god knows if I fail this test I will surely flunk out of college and—”
He blinked. Had she just... flickered?
No, she had definitely flickered. It was like her body blended in with the background for a moment, and then again. Peter blinked thrice and told himself he was crazy, his eyes leaving her and traveling around the room again. And then, his breath hitching, he saw it: laying against the back of her bed’s headboard and partially covered by her blanket, was a suit of black latex.
How had he not seen it?
“—but who knows? Maybe if I end up being a college drop-out, I can pursue a cooler career, like acting or being professional juggler,” she finally set his eyes on him, but she, too, had frozen when she saw where his eyes were trained. Her lips parting, she glanced down at her hands, her face heating up at the sight of them flickering. “Oh — I — it’s —”
“Cam,” he muttered, and she bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s... it’s you?”
Y/N frowned, dropping her pencil and running a hand through her hair. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”
Peter hopped off of the windowsill and took a step towards her, his hand twitching at his side. “No, I’m not disappointed, I’m — I’m just—”
And then, as though his hand had a mind of its own, he brought it to the top of his head and tore off the red mask, his hair sticking on end at the force of it. Y/N’s jaw dropped.
“Peter!” she breathed, her shoulders dropping. “You’re — it’s you!”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Y/N, I’m — I’m floored right now. I knew it.”
“You knew it?” Y/N scrunched up her nose. “How in the hell did you—”
“Well, first off, that mask you dropped a while ago,” Peter raised a finger. She pursed her lips. “I also just... kinda hoped it was you. Guess it was just my confirmation bias doing the rest.”
She pursed her lips. “Don’t try and win me over by using Psychology language.”
He sheepishly shrugged. She narrowed her brows.
“You asshole!” she pointed her pencil at him. “You let me sit here and look like an idiot when you fully knew I was talking about you in front of you!”
Peter bashfully grinned. “Sorry, sorry! It was nice to know the feeling was mutual, s’all.”
“Well, I still can’t believe — wait, what? Mutual?” she got to her feet. “Actually?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Why d’you think I come to your window every night?”
She dropped her shoulders. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said again. “You still mad at me?”
“No,” she muttered. Peter grinned. “But — but how do you expect me to get all my homework done after... after all this?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, sitting down on the window sill and scooting over for her to sit down beside him. She did so, fiddling with her fingers in her lap and sort of hiding her face. Peter tilted his head to the side, peering at her carefully.
“Well...” she mumbled. “You’re... you’re Spiderman. Who I liked. And... you’re also Peter Parker. Who I really liked. So now, it’s like... like my brain is all jumbled, and... and you’re sitting really close to me right now.”
“Sorry!” Peter scooted away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“That wasn’t a bad thing, Peter,” she chuckled, sending him a timid smile. “You just... you make me a little nervous, s’all.”
“Oh!” Peter froze for a second, pressing his lips together, before he scooted back towards her, shoulders flush against one another.
She was biting at her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed and her knee anxiously bouncing up and down. Before he could think twice and psych himself out of it, he placed his hand on her knee to halt the movement.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” he told her carefully, and when he shifted his head up, his iris’ were suddenly glued to her, and even when he spotted her eyes frantically moving every which way, he was moving forwards, and after a heartbeat, so was she. “It’s just me.”
"Peter," He heard her say almost inaudibly, and he could see her prettily blink a few times as though to make sure she was seeing things properly.
At the feeling of his hand twitching, he lifted it, allowing himself to stop worrying about whether or not she'd think him to be weird, and he grazed his hand against her cheekbone. As his hand lingered along her skin, he felt that it was warm to the touch; once he realized he had been staring at her lips, his gaze shifted back to her eyes, but he was not met with the e/c iris' he was used to. Her eyes were practically closed, long eyelashes fluttering.
"Y/N," He muttered, his heart jumping and twisting at the feeling of their noses brushing one another, and he took another deep breath and placed his hand down to gingerly cup her cheek, his calloused thumb ever-so-delicately grazing the flushed skin. "Is this okay?”
“Mmhm,” she hummed carefully, leaning into his touch and relaxing her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Peter dove forwards and pressed his lips flush against hers; almost immediately, she melted into him, her hand moving upwards to rest against his bicep.
He swiped his tongue over her bottom lip, pushing his weight against her and relishing in the way she pushed herself back; her hand snaked around his head, fingers tangling in the chestnut brown locks of his hair and tugging. He groaned at the touch, his hand slithering up from her knee and running it up across her hip. His fingers sunk into her waist, clutching her like a lifeline and tugging her close.
When she pulled her mouth away from him, he opened his eyes and stared at her, panting softly whilst his brows furrowed. Awkwardly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she breathed. “But... can we not sit on the windowsill?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah!” Peter said in a rushed voice, frantically getting to his feet. She strided towards the bed and sat on the edge, scooting backwards to leave room for him; Peter’s face, however, turned a bright cherry red when he saw she was laying down.
Carefully, placing one of his knees between her legs, he climbed overtop of her, arms on either side of her holding himself upright. Bringing his hand up to her face, he lets the pads of his fingers dance over the outline of her cheek bone, down her jaw, up her chin and across her bottom lip.
Bringing his thumb down on her lip, he watched it bounce back into place before he leaned down and pressed his mouth hotly to hers; she opened her mouth to let his tongue move between her lips, tangling with hers and getting lost within her.
“Hey, Peter,” she muttered in between kisses before he moved his mouth down her jaw and along the base of her neck. He hummed in response, to preoccupied with taking her in to speak coherent words. “You’re still wearing the suit.”
He paused, his lips brushing against the skin of her collarbone, where he muttered, “I don’t really have much on underneath.”
“Oh,” she said, and Peter found that her skin suddenly felt warmer to the touch. “That’s okay. I can... er...”
She fumbled around a bit, bringing her hands down to the bottom of her shirt and pulling her t-shirt up over her head. Peter blinked, pulling back from her; he kept his eyes on her face, his chest beginning to rise and fall anxiously.
Staring at her, he felt her hand move up across the length of his spine, sending a pleasant chill across his skin, before he felt her fingers find the metal of the zipper at the base of his neck.
Breath hitching, Peter felt her gently unzip the suit, the material becoming lose around his chest and slowly shrugging down on his arms. He pulled the sleeves off and tugging it down his torso. She blinked twice at him, eyes glued to his face as though she were scared to look at him.
Peter paused for a moment, before he figured they were at a comfortable enough level for him to let his eyes wander; it wasn’t until he moved his gaze down that she did the same, and for a moment, he just let himself stare at her.
“You’re so pretty,” he breathed, voice barely audible. Turning pink, she smiled, clasping her hand to the back of his neck to pull him down to kiss her again. He let his hand drift across her shoulder, lingering on her collarbone before slipping up and over her shoulder blades, pads of his fingers trickling over the fabric of her bra.
He kissed down her neck, lips dragging along her flushed skin, and he paused when he reached her heart. Flicking his pupils up to her, he halted; she stared backs e/c irises dilated, and she ran her fingers through his hair affectionately with a small sigh. Oh, fuck, he thought. I should not be down this bad.
Peter kept going, kissing down her sternum before shifting to do the same on the curve of her breast. He glanced back up at her again, just to check; she smiled, blushing.
“Can I take this off?” he murmured against her skin, tips of fingers sliding along the fabric padding of the cup of her bra. He met her eyes again, and he added, bashfully, “Please?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
Peter’s lips twitched up. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. He blinked once before snaking his hand around to her back, fingers fumbling with the clasp.
After a very, very long moment, he unclasped it and pulled the straps off her shoulders. His heart hammered within his chest, and although he could very well hear the ba-bump of her own pounding underneath her skin, the anxiety of his own insecurity crept in the back of his brain.
“C’mere,” she muttered, snapping him out of his mind and pulling his face back up to hers by the back of his neck. Red cheeked, he gave her a dopey smile; she kissed him gently, hand on his cheek.
As his head tilted and he brought himself further towards her, he felt her free hand grabbing ahold of his wrist; unsure, he waited to see what she would do, until he felt his hand come in contact with her upper rib.
“You can do whatever you want, Peter,” she muttered. He was sure he might pass out right then and there. Either that or he’d finish in the part of the suit he still had on as pants. She was certainly more forward that she had been earlier.
“Oh — okay,” he mumbled, gulping, before he kissed her again as though the touch of her lips might fuel his courage again. He moved his hand up from her rib cage and cupped her breast with his hand, carefully kneading the skin and praying that he was doing something right. She hummed in contentment and he found himself sighing in relief.
They froze. Y/N glanced at him for a moment, and he glanced back, his hands still matched onto her breasts and his lips still hovering over hers. She clenched her jaw and scooted up to sit upright. Frowning, Peter took his hands off of her.
“Who the fuck is that?” she grumbled, glancing towards where her door was. Peter was surprised at her agitation, but said nothing, staring at her. Knock, knock!
Groaning, she pulled her shirt over her head and got to her feet, stomping across the room towards the door; she peered through the peephole, standing on her toes.
“Fucking package,” she said, swinging open the door and swiping two white packing bags off the ground. Tossing them on the counter, she said, “Do not care.”
Peter grinned as she walked back into the room, but frowned when he saw her eyes drift over towards her desk, the open textbooks and sheets of paper staring right back. She pursed her lips and didn’t move.
“Okay,” Peter said, shifting to stand up. “You should study. Big test tomorrow!”
“No,” she told him. “Sit back down, will you? I’ve studied enough.”
“Oh, yeah?” he said as she sat back down beside him and threw off her tee shirt. “You sure?”
She kissed him, pressing herself against him until he tumbled back onto the mattress with her leaning over him.
“Yeah,” she said. “Positive.”
Peter grinned, dragging his hands up and down her waist. “I thought studying came before everything?”
“Hmm, not everything,” she smiled bashfully.
Peter gave her an odd look but laughed and kissed her again. “I’ll figure you out eventually.”
Running a hand through his hair, she smirked and said, “Kiss me before you do that, okay?”
a/n: all done :))
tag list: @niallhoransupremacy @criesinlies @mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @julster
The Girl Who Never Really Knew - p.p
summary: After the spell, y/n had felt like something was missing. College was lonely but that changed when she met him all over again.
pairing: tom!peter parker x f!reader
word count: 1.5k
tags: nwh spoilers, fluff, set before & after nwh,
a/n: I’m in love with Peter Parker and I have been since I was 11. This was lowkey inspired by ‘falling in love in a coffee shop’ by Landon Pigg.
The library in your high school was always crowded, but no one was ever really working. It was just a meeting stop to gossip or to make out. So you always found it strange that Peter always invited you there to do one thing and one thing only. Actually study.
“Why did we need to study here? Couldn’t we have gone to your place?” you asked, frustrated by the sounds of whispers and people kissing behind the bookshelf.
“Let’s be real. If we went to my place, we wouldn’t study,” Peter said, not taking his eyes away from his notes.
“Ah, but do we really need to study? You’re basically a genius, and I’m not in the class you have a test for,” you smirked, raising your eyebrows, trying to hint at your boyfriend that the both of you could be doing something more fun with your time.
He finally looked at you, putting together the pieces of what you were suggesting. “Who am I to say no to such a beautiful girl, with such a reasonable request?” you smiled at him. “Just let me finish this chapter and I’ll swing there as fast as I can, okay?”
“See you at your place then?” you asked, leaning on the table over your boyfriend’s homework.
“Not if I see you first.” after a kiss on the cheek, you quickly went to Peter’s place. You could catch up with May, or steal more of his clothes. But he wouldn’t be long, considering he had a transportation advantage over you. You still rushed to get to his place before he could finish his work.
That was the day you realized that you loved him. You didn’t know why that was it, but it was. Maybe it was the realization that you were practically skipping down the street with a smile from ear to ear. But that day, you knew that you would never let him go.
At least, you used to know.
Your head rested in your palms, trying to counteract the stress of staring at this screen for over two hours. Your legs were heavy as they stuck to your seat and your back ached from the slouched position you had maintained while completing this assignment. You were hungry thirsty, but most importantly, you were tired of sitting at your desk.
You lugged yourself out of your dorm, headphones blocking the busy sounds of New York. You usually didn’t go off-campus, mainly out of laziness. Still, something had possessed you to try something different than the Starbucks outside of your residency. A coffee shop across the street caught your attention, with no giant signs declaring new overly expensive and unnecessary drinks that nobody asked for, or the sound of teenage girls trying to come across as mature. It was perfect.
A bell rang as you opened the door to the cafe. It was peaceful, warm, cozy. You were glad you decided to leave campus. The cafe was filled with plants and soft lighting. You were planning on being quick, ordering a black coffee and leaving. However, something about the atmosphere beckoned you to relax for a moment, a moment you desperately needed. You were greeted with a warm smile, which surprised you considering the usual pattern of customer service in New York City. An older woman stood on the other side of the cash register, “What can I get you, dear?”
That was when he saw you. While your face was scrunched in thought, trying to decide what to order. He felt weird staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from you. Your hair in a lazily put-together messy bun and the most comfortable shoes you could afford. He noticed how tired you were, but you smiled in conversation with the woman across from you despite that. He was lost in thought for a moment, debating whether or not to introduce himself, but his thoughts were interrupted by your voice.
“Hey… is this seat taken?” you said in a soft tone.
“Oh yes, I mean No! No, you can take it if you want,” you laughed at his awkwardness.
“Mind if I join you?” he seemed surprised by your question. “I’m sorry, you probably wanna be left alone I’ll sit on the stools instead,” you cursed to yourself, trying to back out of the situation.
“No, no, no, please sit. I could use some company.” his smile made you feel warm, and you bit back your own smile that was trying to creep its way to your face. So you sat on the cushioned sofa chair next to him.
“I’m Y/N, by the way, Y/N Y/L/N,” you stuck out your hand for him to shake. His face fell for a moment as he hesitated to touch you. But he quickly covered it with a smile and shook your hand.
“I’m Peter, Peter Parker.”
“Are you in school, Peter Parker?” you asked, sipping away the latte art that the old woman insisted on making for you.
“Uh ya, Empire State. You?”
“Me too,” you said excitedly, “We’ve probably crossed paths hundreds of times at this point.”
“You have no idea,” Peter mumbled to himself as he took a sip of his own coffee. “So do you live on residence?” he asked, trying to find some segway from small talk to actual conversation.
“Yep, how about you?”
“No, I have an apartment off-campus,”
“Lucky! I have two, and they’re the definition of crackhead energy. You know those girls that’ll jump off a roof if you point a camera at them?” Peter nodded, sipping his drink once more, “Well, that’s basically them. They have brought their loud-ass friends into our dorm at the most ungodly hours of the night. I haven’t had a good sleep in a very long time.” you admitted, you didn’t know why you had become so comfortable talking to this complete stranger so quickly.
“Why don’t you just crash at a friend’s place?”
“I would if I had the option.” you laughed at your current situation.
“Don’t have very generous friends?”
“I didn’t have that many friends in high school, and let me tell you, nothing has changed. I can count all my friends on one hand, and none of them go to Empire State.”
“So you don’t have any friends?” he asked with a smirk on his face.
“Well, don’t act so shocked,” you said sarcastically. “Would I be joining a complete stranger for breakfast if I did?”
You could see that something was bothering him. He continuously tried to hide his dejected looks with a smile. Still, it always made its way back to his face. But he seemed to eat up all of your words. He listened so intently to everything you said. Taking in your features as if they’re the only thing at the cafe.
Peter had almost forgotten how much he missed the sound of your laugh. All he wanted to do was make you laugh again. And here you were, in front of him, laughing at some dumb quip he made. He knew you weren’t the best at flirting, but he could always tell when you were trying to. And right in front of his eyes, you were doing it. Something he never thought he’d see again; your attempts at flirty banter followed by an apology at how absurd you thought you sounded, the way you leaned towards him instead of away when you laughed, the way you couldn’t stop tucking your hair behind your ears and quickly pulling it back out to frame your face, the way you bite your lip but hid behind your hand. His heart fluttered for the first time since you stopped knowing.
“So… Peter,” you tucked your hair behind your ears once more, “um do-, would you wanna-, could I-” you didn’t know why you were stuttering, you never stuttered this much.
“Are you trying to ask for my number love?” Peter asked softly. Your heart did summersaults when he called you ‘love’.
You laughed at your own awkwardness. “Can I have your number, Peter Parker?”
“Hmmmmm,” he brought a finger to his chin as if to mime that he was thinking, “No.”
You smacked his arm, hoping he didn’t see how red you’d gotten from the nickname he used, “Rude!” you laughed at his overdramatic gestures.
“Oh, come on, you know I’m joking. Of course, you can have my number, Y/N Y/L/N,”
You traded phones. You took a picture for his contacts, scrunching your nose. When Peter’s phone was returned to him, he saw your contact read ‘Hot Girl From Cafe ;).’ He thought to himself how very on-brand that was for you. But all you could think about was familiar he felt to you and why did every fibre in your body want to wrap him in a hug.
“So, I’ll see you around?” he asked.
“Not if I see you first.”