READER IMAGINES [1]

Peter Parker x Reader

This is the second part to my last Peter Parker imagine because y'all requested it. As before, I don't specify which Peter Parker I've written so you can imagine whoever you want. Some users requested angst and others requested fluff so here's a bit of both (but you can only see the angst if you, like, squint and tilt your head).

Dt: CrAzYmArY2003 MReid101 midnightmoonlight00 milkydudds hanntonkey @AliyahOlivia MiruMeBlue SheIsFruity pers0n0naplanet

Word count: 2,328

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Ring, ring.

No. Stop it.

Ring, ring.

This has got to be a joke, right?

Ring, ring.

Groaning, you turn over in your bed to see your clock read two o'clock... in the morning. Who the heck could be ringing you at two in the morning?

You expect your phone to shut up eventually; maybe it's a spam caller or someone from overseas. But it just keeps on ringing. When you snatch your phone from your bedside table and answer the call, you pray that whoever is on the other end of the line will just let you go back to sleep.

"Who is this?" You answer, with a voice as groggy as a pirate.

"Hey... it's, um, it's Peter."

Immediately you bolt upward in your bed but completely forget about your phone still being connected to your charger; causing the power-board to rise and then fall to the ground with a loud bang-- almost about taking you down with the cord that tugs back.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks.

"Yeah, yeah!" You say, untangling the charger cord from your arm and unplugging it, "What's up? Is everything okay?"

There's a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." You sigh, "Peter, you know I can tell when something is off."

You hear Peter sigh on the line. He must've forgotten how much you two know about each other.

"I should've realized you wouldn't believe me." He says.

"So, what's the matter?" You ask.

Another long pause on the line.

"Peter, you know you can tell me anything?" You assure him.

"I know." He breathes, "I know that. I love that about you."

The extra moment of silence starts to get you worried, and you cling onto your phone as if it were Peter's arm. It was two o'clock in the morning and Peter was calling your phone, which means he had been out in the city... which means something could have gone wrong.

"Where are you?" You speak.

"Um," you can hear Peter shuffle on the line, a faint sound of one of his web-shooters going off and air being blown past the microphone, "Troy Street."

"Alright, stay there. I'm coming."

"(Y/n), no. Stay in bed."

"Too late, I'm already out of bed. Just don't move, okay?"