Perfect (Peter Parker x Reader)
Hey guys! I’m back for more. So, I had this one written up a while ago, but then it got deleted, and I kinda lost motivation to get it rewritten. That’s not an excuse for why it took so long, but it does explain the reason behind it a little. Anywho, this was requested by the wonderful, @phiauniverse! Thank you so much for coming to me with the idea; I had so much fun writing it when I got back into the flow. It was an honor. I don’t know if it turned out how you wanted it, but hopefully you still like it! Welp, that’s it for tonight guys. Enjoy, Munchkins! (Requests are open, and i’ll be working in order of whichever ones inspire me the most! Send away!)
Peter knew it was wrong to judge. He’d been on the receiving end of judgements more often than not, so he knew how horrible it could feel. But for some reason, when it came to her, he just couldn’t help it. Not when she was making it so easy.
(Y/N) had been part of the team for all of three months, but even in that short time period, she’d made her presence known. But Peter supposed that was pretty easy when you were someone like her.
“Like her” consisted of hair that seemed to reject the idea of getting even a millimeter out of line, outfits that always had some shade of pink–powder pink, hot pink, pink that looked a little more fuchsia but was definitely still pink– whether it be her skirt or dress or shorts or shirt or heels, and makeup so calculated, you would’ve thought she was a statue.
Her personality was just as girly, giggling constantly, refusing to touch anything that could dirty her nails, and speaking with a voice so shrill, Peter often avoided interacting with her at all.
It seemed that everyone else felt the same.
Tony and Bruce were often busy with trying to make some sort of breakthrough in their fields, but they had still managed to find her presence unnerving. She didn’t just appear to be a slight air head, but she was also too….
Nat and Clint and even Sam were slightly more accepting having been impressed with how quick she picked up moves when they sparred, but even they couldn’t help but wince when her bottom lip jutted out in a pout at a broken nail or a scuff on her shoe. She was just so….
Steve and Bucky were the most polite, trying to make small talk and get to know her, a little more prone to the extreme femininity from their time, but there was only so much they could handle before they couldn’t deny the truth. She was far too….
Too innocent for a world that could throw an alien invasion at you one day and robots threatening to take over the world the very next. Too innocent for a world that emphasized how easily it was to suck the life out of anyone and everyone.
Only Wanda and Vision seemed to understand her, and they could often be found talking and laughing with (Y/N). Peter didn’t know exactly what about, but he did know that if he didn’t bring attention to his presence right away, he could swear her voice was less high pitched and her clothes had dark blues or greens rather than the very noticable pinks. The second they realized Peter–or anyone really–was in the room, however, the pinks reappeared in a flash, and her voice was just as high as he remembered, almost as if he had completely imagined it.
What really engraved itself in Peter’s mind, though, was how her face changed. When they realized he was in the room, her face changed into one of complete geniality. He would not have minded, as that was her normal expression, but having seen her two seconds prior, he couldn’t shake the image of serenity on her face. Now, her smile, about as large as her cheeks would allow, looked tense. Guarded. Had he not seen the look she wore only seconds before, Peter wouldn’t have noticed. That’s what disturbed him most. How much he wouldn’t have noticed.
That’s not to say she was horrible. Not by any means. She was nice and appreciative and reliable, but something about her had started to seem…Off? Well, more off than normal. Whatever it was, though, Peter couldn’t quite place.
Today, the world had decided that the villains of choice were…. Mermaids? Real living, breathing mermaids. But as the Quinjet flew in the general area, Peter couldn’t help but notice how disturbing the army of fish people looked. Faces different shades of green with seaweed draped in ghastly ways over their body as means of clothing. Their eyes were deadly, darker than the depths of the sea, with teeth that resembled those of sharks. In their arms were what Peter could only assume were weapons.
He winced, adjusting the way his suit sat on his body.
They definitely weren't the mermaids he grew up thinking of.
Turning away from the window as they drew nearer, Peter’s gaze landed on (Y/N) who sat in the seat closest to the door, and around her, an atmosphere that clearly contradicted her normal happy-go-lucky attitude. Confused, Peter walked over.
“(Y/N)?” He started, his voice coming off as cautious. “This is your first mission, right? Are you nervous?”
She didn’t say anything, her gaze firmly on the floor of the jet, and for a second, Peter was certain he had seen her pale pink tank top flicker into something that looked like old stained cloth bandages. In a blink of an eye, it returned to the spotless pink garment, and he could only stare at it in amazement.
“I remember my first mission. I fought Scott. I was super nervous, too, but I couldn’t exactly say no to Tony, so I just did it, and I thought I did pretty well, so I’m sure you’ll do fine, too, for sure,” Peter rambled, the new vibe surrounding the girl making him slightly uncomfortable.
The jet shook suddenly, loud CRACKS! and BOOMS! sounding outside.
“Incoming!” Clint hissed, veering to the side to avoid anymore blows to the aircraft. “Is everyone ready?”
The team stood, ready for some action, but Peter only focused on (Y/N). She slowly stood, rolling her shoulders methodically, before her gaze finally met his. He felt his breathing falter.
Her lips were pulled back in a devious smirk. Not her usual, artificial smile. It was a genuine smirk, signs of excitement and mischief clear in it’s quirkiness. Peter was so astounded by the change that he almost didn’t notice the words that left her lips.
“Hold on tight, Spider Boy.”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his question before her hands had clasped onto his waist, and with a toothy grin, she dove out of the jet’s nearest open door, taking him along with her.
“What the f–!”
The roar of the wind drowned him out, but he continued to wriggle around in shock. From his spot beneath (Y/N), he was sure he looked like a fish out of water while she couldn’t have been more calm despite the fact that they were falling closer into the clutches of killer merpeople.
Finally, he jumped into action, his arms raising from his sides to be directed towards the jet, in hopes of maybe being able to get a string of webs to the bottom of it. His actions were quickly cut short by the feeling of something soft brushing against his arm. His brow furrowed before that something grew and suddenly, before his very eyes, a pair of large, golden wings sprouted out of nowhere. Well, not really from nowhere.
They had sprouted from (Y/N)’s back.
Peter could only watch as the wings continued to grow, the rising sun shining pale pinks and deep purples and rich oranges on the sparkling gold feathers. Quickly, the brightly lit appendages grew to be too vibrant to look at, and he had to look away, his gaze landing on her once fashionable outfit.
The clothes had seemed to melt from her pink tank top and brown skinny jeans to cloth bandages, swaddling her in thin fading brown rags from her chest down to her mid thighs. At her waist was an array of knives, and had he not been mesmerized by the sudden transformation, he would have been getting as far as possible from the blades that looked like they could cut through flesh with a single twitch of her hips. Instead, he could only look on, mystified by what he had just seen.
Suddenly, a loud shriek broke his concentration, and the reality of the situation hit him again like a ton of bricks.
Killer merpeople. Right.
Only when the array of fish bone arrows flew in his direction did he notice the first genuine smile he had ever seen on her face.
The battle had taken 42 hours of nonstop fighting before the team had managed to beat them into damnation, or whatever that meant. As far as Peter could tell, Thor had managed to convince Loki to help Tony make some kind of portal, leading all of the merfolks to some planet that they could never escape from. Peter wasn’t exactly sure how that was possible, but it meant he could get back to the facility and finally confront a topic that had been bothering him since he fell out of the Quinjet.
But first, he decided that the team deserved sleep. 42 hours took a heck of a toll on people.
As soon as they had all rested for just over twenty-four hours, he found his way to the girl of the hour.
(Y/N) stood against the island in the kitchen, her hands wrapped delicately around a mug of what he could only assume to be a steaming cup of tea based on the subtle sweetness he could detect even from a few feet away. He watched in silence for a few minutes, but he quickly was broken from his haze by a soft voice.
“I never really liked the idea of being stared at. You can never tell what the person is thinking as they hone in on you,” she hummed, her voice soft and slow like dripping honey.
“I–well–sorry…,” Peter mumbled, his gaze dropping as he stepped further into the room. Subconsciously, he grabbed a bowl and a random box of cereal, eyes flickering between (Y/N) and his food.
Her smile was back in place, as subtly fake as ever.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Peter. It was rude of me to say,” she appeased, kindness radiating off of her features.
“Why are you pretending to be so perfect?” Peter blurted out, suddenly unable to hold his tongue despite the way out she had so eloquently allowed him.
(Y/N) spit out her mouthful of tea, her eyes wild as she met Peter’s curious ones. Immediately, she wiped her lips, hunching over the counter for a second, her face hiding behind her perfect hair. After a few beats, she turned, her face now emotionless.
“What do you mean?”
She didn’t even try to hide the dullness in her tone, but Peter didn’t care, focused solely on the way her hair now looked slightly frizzy, her pink pajamas flickering between a glowing orange and a vibrant pink, and her makeup showing signs of exhaustion. For once, she didn’t look faultless.
Peter liked it.
“Peter?” Her gentle voice asked, and Peter jolted, frowning at the sight of the pink returning.
“You turn into a warrior angel,” he blurted, pleased at the sight of her hair beginning to have tangles as she processed his second outburst of their encounter.
Her face was blank again. “So what?”
“So…,” Peter drawled as his nerves suddenly washed over the words he hesitantly spoke. “I guess I just wanted to know…to know why?”
His words were vague, but she knew what he meant. He wanted to know why she bothered pretending to be pristine when he had watched her laugh in the face of danger as if it were an old friend. He wanted to know why she had kept her abilities a secret from the team for the short time she had known them. He wanted to know how she could handle having two completely different personalities.
But most of all, he wanted to know why she felt the need to put on a facade at all.
But she didn’t want to answer. She wanted to pretend this hadn’t ever happened. Pretend he hadn’t asked her such a personal question. Pretend he hadn’t caught on to her secret. Of course that wasn’t how it was going to play out, but she had been pretending for so long, she just wanted to allow herself to believe she hadn’t ever stopped.
So for however long it was before she spoke, she let herself pretend she didn’t feel the anxiety eating at her insides, and she let herself pretend that everything was normal. That Peter was walking on eggshells because she was smiling too brightly and not because she might draw a knife on him. Like his eyes were staring at her perfectly applied makeup and not at the very edges of her soul seeping out from her eyes. Like he was going to walk out of the room not because she had scared him away as she had numerous other people, but because her personality was too bubbly for this time of day. Because she could handle people being put off by the facade she presented, but for people to walk away because of the truth behind the facade? That was unbearable.
“I killed my parents when I was only seven,” (Y/N) finally spoke, causing Peter to jump from his spot by the fridge. “I hadn’t meant to, of course, but that’s kind of hard to explain to a judge and jury when you can’t say that your wings suffocated them in your sleep. The only reason I was let off of the charges with a few months of probation was because they found feathers stuffed in their throats. We didn’t have feather pillows.”
Peter stayed silent, approaching her like she was a wild animal that he was afraid would flee if he moved too quickly.
(Y/N) rolled her eyes at the attempt of kindness. All it really did was make her more irritated.
“I’m not gonna bite your head off if you walk up to me, you know,” she snapped, her pajamas seeming to flicker a brighter shade of orange.
Peter watched on with caution before finally standing to his full height and walking to the other side of the counter with only slight hesitation in his movements. She seemed to watch from her peripheral, and when she was pleased with where he stood, she continued.
“A family friend took me in and taught me how to control Protector–the angel warrior. Within a matter of months, she and I were on the same wavelength, and she saved me. From people that tried to take advantage of my powers and…and from myself. I–”
“But what does that have to do with why you pretend to be some innocent little girly girl?” Peter interrupted, his curiosity getting the best of him for the third time in a matter of minutes.
(Y/N) was not as amused by his intrigue.
“Would you rather be hunted for the rest of your life or change so drastically that they question whether you were even the girl they were looking for? Which one sounds easier to you?” She drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm, eyes seeming to stare into his soul as they looked for a genuine answer.
Peter was speechless.
“Exactly,” she finally mused, hints of sadness clear in her tone. “It gets real old trying to escape death the twelfth or so time some mysterious ol’ bastard or creepy ass organization decides you are gonna be their next play thing. You manage to decide what is best to survive pretty fucking fast.”
With each word, innocence was quickly lost in Peter’s image of her, each curse slipping from her lips resulting in another strand of hair leaving her perfectly sculpted bun. As the f-bomb bit its way from her lips and a loose curl escaped the elastic and fell in her face, Peter couldn’t help but notice other changes that slowly washed over the perfect teen.
The mini Eiffel Towers, for instance, that had once occupied her bright pink pajamas shorts were replaced with poop Emojis, complimenting the orange now having washed over the fabric. Or the way her hair was now in a horribly messy bun, bed head finally catching up with the girl. Or the nail polish that had suddenly become chipped and in complete disarray. Or the freckles that he only just noticed she had from in between the patches of makeup that must have come off in her hours of sleep. Those unbelievably adorable freckles….
“What?” (Y/N) hissed, growing uncomfortable under Peter’s heavy gaze.
Peter blinked in shock, his mouth reacting before he had a chance to comprehend what was going on.
“You’re really pretty!”
Peter nearly choked on his words as they came flying out of his lips. Had he really just done that? What kind of idiot was he?! The rambling continued in his mind for what felt like ages, but a soft chuckle cut him off in a matter of seconds.
Looking up with caution, Peter’s gaze landed on an unexpected sight: (Y/N) smirking.
“Close your mouth, Spider Boy. You’ll catch flies,” she teased, pushing off of the counter. She placed her empty mug in the sink, her gaze landing on him from under her long eye lashes. “Unless you want me to be one of the flies…?”
And with a swish of her hips, she was gracefully exiting the room, not bringing any form of attention to the words that clearly had no real reason for being in their conversation, besides throwing him off. But of course, that was the point. And, who’s to say she didn’t want to actually flirt with him?
Peter watched in astonishment, his hands clenching at his sides. The subtle action resulted in a harsh burst of webbing to shoot from his wrists, sending the boy flying into the counters behind him. Groaning in pain, he quickly flung off the newly slimmed web shooters. Tony had insisted on making him a more suitable design–“You can’t walk around with these bulky cuffs under your clothes. What happens if you get attacked when you’re in your civilian form? At least a smaller model can be taken with you undetected.”
It appeared that he hadn’t been wrong; the poor boy had forgot he was even wearing them.
From down the hall, Peter heard a breathy laugh, and he didn’t need to look up to know it was (Y/N). Nonetheless, he looked up anyway, shocked to see her looking back at him. Upon seeing him notice her gaze, she quickly straightened her stance, rushing the rest of the way out of the hall. Peter grinned goofily, it never slipping from his face as he collected the webbing stuck to the floor. How could he?
After all, he’d never seen her blush like that when she was pretending to be perfect.