blood alert!
DATE: DECEMBER 29, 2022
summary: peter notices you’re unwell at school and instinctively wants to help. as he does, the schoolwide douchebag decides to make a scene after school.
requested: very :)
song: Yours- conan gray (i was listening to this)
words: 4.3k
warnings: mentions of blood (not too gory), mentions of periods, mentions of anxiety, sexual innuendo/insults, minimal language, and a protective peter :o
note: part four?!?! i think this is my favorite yet?? and it’s the longest! peter parker masterlist
—
“please please i didn’t mean to!” the unknown man’s pleads were muffled by the blood gushing from his mouth. peter tsked behind his mask, wondering when they’ll ever learn to never touch a woman when they don’t want to be touched.
nothing gets him more mad than things that aren’t consensual.
“sure didn’t seem that way. i mean, you didn’t even apologize,” peter says condensingly, eyeing his webbing work. the man’s hands and legs were attached to the wall while multiple layers covered his torso. over time, his placing and aiming of the webs got easier. they do say practice makes perfect.
the man groans in pain and irritation.
like he has the right to be making any noise right now.
“i think you deserve an apology. don’t you think, miss?” peter tilts his head in the direction of the distraught woman, who seems to be in her mid-thirties (at the latest). after peter had comforted her, she calmed down once she realized who he was and that he could handle the situation. she contemplates his question, crossing her arms.
“yes i do,” she replies, glaring at the fickle man. he growls under his breath, spitting out the crimson blood drowning him. annoyed, peter shoots another web at his torso, not hurting him, but shocking him and pushing him snuggly into the brick wall of the alleyway. the man screams, frightened, and finally agrees to apologize.
“okay, okay! i’m sorry, i won’t touch you or anyone else ever again. just don’t kill me!” he begs again. it’s funny how he can change from growling and groaning to begging and pleading because he thinks he’s going to die. peter has more power than he knows sometimes.
“relax. i don’t kill,” peter waves him off and turns to the woman once again with sincerity. “will you be okay to walk home?”
“i’m feeling quite better now. i think i’ll catch a cab this time. thank you, spiderman,” her face softens and a gentle smile rests on her lips. her heels click away to the open sidewalk, waving for cabs until one halts for her. peter looks at the man positioned like a star on the wall.
“now what will i do with you?”
—
after bringing the attacker to the station, peter swings on home. he assumes it’s past ten, given the dark, starry sky. when he reaches his window, he lifts the creaky wood up and slips inside. he knows his aunt, may, is going to be upset because he came home late again, but she knows he has responsibilities to upkeep.
“peter!” may shouts from the kitchen while he rips off his mask. she opens his bedroom door and softens at his rough appearance.
“sorry for coming home late again.” peter mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.
“it’s alright, i want you to be safe. you didn’t kill anybody, did you?. you know—”
“i know, may. i know.” peter sighs because she gives the same lecture every time he comes home. she wants him to be safe, not to kill, don’t hurt anyone unless needed, etcetera etcetera.
“okay. well then go shower. you have blood all over your suit…”
—
peter was glad to go to school the following morning. he was going to see you during third period and you two were going to talk like you did yesterday. his heart fluttered happily in his chest just thinking about it.
however, when peter saw you during second period passing, you looked unwell. maybe you were sick with a cold or the flu? you trudged around the hallways and you didn’t socialize with anyone.
of course, you wouldn’t want to get anyone else ill.
peter assumes to himself as you lay your head tiringly on your locker from a far distance across the hall. a pang of hurt hits his heart knowing that you’re feeling so ill.
he wishes he could take care of you. he wishes he could give you soup and turn on your favorite movie. if he was with you, he knows he wouldn’t care about getting sick and would lay in the bed and watch the movie with you. he wishes he could comfort you. he wishes he could be the one to make you smile when you’re having a bad day.
peter wishes you’d want him too.
he frowns to himself, ripping his stare away from you. he knows that’s a hard concept to even conspire, but it still makes him dejected that you’ll never feel the way he feels for you. the ache in his chest grows, but for a slightly different reason now.
“this cold weather is really preparing me for the cabin. speaking of…” ned rocks back and forth on his toes, while peter turns to him with sorrow still in his eyes. ned doesn’t notice. “you really don’t want to go with us?”
“i’m sure. it’s a couple’s thing. i obviously don’t have a date and i would never want to impose,” peter replies shutting his locker slowly. ned squints his eyes at him.
“you good, peter?” ned questions more seriously than before.
okay, he did notice.
“yeah, yeah. just tired is all,” peter fake yawns with a soft smile to ensure that he is fine. he didn’t know that his sudden sadness would be that burdening so fast. it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it was just something that he had to accept, whether he wanted to or not.
it’s insane how emotions can be so intense and rapid when they’re connected to something important.
—
you were late to english. again.
you really tried not to be late to your classes, but it wasn’t always your fault. sometimes, you were having sex in the bathroom (which you hated yourself for) or mother nature decided to come early. you never had sex on your period, either.
so, today was the latter.
you skipped first period because you were curled up under your warm blanket and your body refused to get up. you were extremely tired as well, which didn’t help. but you knew how hard it was to get back on track with school work, even if it’s only a one-day absence. you trudged out of the comfort of your bed and into the cold fog outside.
when the final bell rang for third period, you didn’t attempt to run. not that you ever really ran, but sometimes you did a fast walk. with every five steps a cramp clawed your uterus, and you reconsidered going to class today. but you knew this project was worth a good chunk of your grade, and you didn’t want your partner to do all the work.
you plod into the mostly obedient classroom, all eyes staring at the teacher while she speaks. she doesn’t acknowledge you and continues to instruct. you don’t mind, and slot through the columns of desks.
“damn what happened to you? out too late last night?” jax obnoxiously chuckles behind his hand as he daps up his nearby friends. unlike the movies, he isn’t well liked by the whole school, only by his lame sidekick friends. the only thing that’s comical is how he’s wearing a letterman for the world’s most boring sport (golf) and he suddenly thinks he’s the most admired man on campus. if there was a sport for douchebags, he’d make varsity and be the star player.
jax has been like this since freshman year. he acts immature, rude, and arrogant to most people, but especially to you. he always goes out of his way to insult or make fun of you for entertainment. although you know the underlining reason for his harsh treatment, it doesn’t bother you any less. it’s hard to desensitize from negativity when you’re surrounded by it like oxygen.
you cringe at his comment and the unfolded scene. you barely have enough energy to get through today, let alone waste it on a dumbass jock who thinks he’s the ‘top dawg’ or whatever he says. another cramp kicks you, which makes you practically limp to your seat in the back.
“look she’s limping,” he points out to his friends with shoulder nudges. “he must have given it to her hard.”
more laughs are muffled behind their jacket sleeves, while you focus on breathing and reaching your desk. the class is too distracted with the teacher’s announcements to notice or care about the little interaction.
peter wasn’t listening to a word the teacher was saying.
his senses picked up on the chattering near the back of the room. he’s learned when to engage his power on his own, but his senses are automatically heightened when someone is involved in harmful situations. he has never eavesdropped on your conversations ever before, but conversations don’t sound like that.
peter heard the ‘jokes’ jax made about you, right to your face. it made him upset knowing that someone would talk like that. but it made him fucking furious that anyone would talk like that to you. you didn’t deserve that. peter didn’t know you as well as he wishes to, but he knows that jax is a jerk inside and out. an immature asshole to better say. no matter how high of a pedestal jax puts himself on, he’ll never hold a candle to you.
peter clenches his jaw so hard, he thought he might shatter his own teeth. it took everything in him to breathe instead of strangle jax with his webs in front of the whole class.
it’s like everything may ever told him was thrown out the window.
when the teacher finally dismisses everyone to continue their partner projects, peter doesn’t hesitate to snatch his backpack and head toward you. his heart pounds angrily in his chest, furious, yet still underlined with nerves because he’s approaching you like it’s normal.
he takes the seat beside you. you’re slouched with your hands resting on the desk while you fiddle with your fingers. peter softens his gaze, heart still beating rapidly.
what does he say?
“hey,” he gently starts, patiently waiting for you to say something. you blink a few times before turning your head toward peter.
“hey, parker,” you tiredly smile at him, trying to sit up straighter. your head subtly pounds from the nonsense you experienced with jax because that kind of stuff is so regular for you. if you look like shit one day, everyone assumes you had a previous late-night hookup. if you look gorgeous on another, they think you’re a slut who just wants attention.
can’t a girl just dress for herself?
at first, it angered you that people cared so deeply yet so little about you. now, it was so constant and repetitive that you didn’t dwell on everyone else’s small talk about you. but you can’t help but wish it would stop. it had a mental toll on you.
but deep down, you were only mad at yourself for giving in to the pressure of people around you.
peter gazes delicately at you, his teddy bear eyes easing some of the mental and physical pain away.
you wish all guys were as good-natured and self-aware as he seemed.
“are you okay?” peter breathily questions. he sees the heaviness under your eyes and your eyelids seem desperate to close. overall exhaustion is laced in your expression. he assumes you don’t want him to stare at you, so he tries his best to avert his eyes. but even when you’re sick, he still thinks you’re gorgeous. you always radiate such glowing warmth, so when you’re a little colder, there must be something wrong.
“uh,” you grumble, hesitant. you consider admitting to peter that you’re on your period and not just tired or sick. again, you didn’t dwell on other people’s thoughts, or their judgment. if anything, he’d probably disregard it anyway because that’s what guys always do. without stopping yourself, you admit. “i’m on my period.”
peter slightly widens his eyes, not expecting you to say that. he knew you were forthright, but he didn’t think you’d share personal information with him. his heart races quicker before he realizes his reaction probably isn’t helping.
“oh um… is there is anything… i can do to help?” peter stutters and he mentally curses at himself for acting like an immature fool. to be clear, he wasn’t flustered over the menstrual cycle part, they’re completely natural and uncontrollable, but by the fact that you told him so bluntly (even though he asked) is what shocked him.
you genuinely smile at his endearment, causing spots of warmth to spread over your chilly skin. your shoulders relax, releasing tension you didn’t know you had been storing in your muscles.
“unless you have chocolate, nothing is going to mend the stabbing pain in my uterus,” you dryly joke, moving some hair from your face. a gray hood lays on your head, protecting you from the uncomfortably cold air.
peter curses to himself, again, for not having chocolate in his bag.
sometimes, he wishes he could read minds instead of having the behavioral abilities of a spider. he has to remind himself that some people don’t have powers at all and he should be grateful and blah blah blah.
“i’m sorry, i don’t,” peter frowns again like earlier. “do you have a favorite?” he asks suddenly.
“a favorite chocolate?” you face him with curiosity, trying to forget the jamming headache. your cramps have halted more now than they have all morning. probably because you’re sitting comfortably for once.
“yeah or a favorite food you crave,” peter knows about the food cravings because of may.
when may’s favorite snack (pickles) were gone and she was too unwell to retrieve them, she would send peter to go to the store down the street. he hates seeing may in pain, but it only lasted for a couple of days before she was okay again. he doesn’t remember exactly when he stopped having to go, but he didn’t worry as long as she wasn’t hurting.
he would definitely bring you something if you asked.
“i mean, i really like chocolate pretzels? i don’t know why. probably because i always ate them a lot growing up,” you share openly. you spit out the first thing that came to your mind without hesitation. you were being oddly open. no one really cared to ask personally questions to you before, so you didn’t really know how to respond.
“noted,” he remembers how ned loves them too, so he’ll have to ask him where he gets them. peter curls one side of his lips into a tiny smile, while you smile back with skepticism all over your face. he feels his chest restricting and wonders if he’ll die. and least he would die a happy man. “we should probably get to our project.”
“yeah, yeah. we should,” you shake your head to look away from his soft features. he turns down and searches in his backpack for the papers. your eyes don’t drag away from him like you’d hope they would.
he wore jeans today. they appeared a little loose, but fitting enough so he’s not sagging. you could never imagine him in jeans; he always seemed like a khaki guy. a classic flannel shirt peaks beneath a navy sweater, and you wonder where he gets his style from. his hair is neatly combed, and it overall made him look put-together. you couldn’t imagine yourself appearing that way, even if you wore pretty little clothes and did your makeup.
peter tilts his head back up and places the papers on the desk. he scoots the table closer to you with ease, and you two continue to work on the presentation fundamentals.
time flies when the bell suddenly rings. peter tucks everything back into his bag in a specific folder. his body freezes when his scalp feels your soft fingertips ruffle his hair. a blush arises on his face as he stares at the floor. when he finally looks back up, you’re gone.
you left the class with a small smile, feeling a little less worse than you had.
—
during lunch, peter instantly asked about the pretzels.
“oh, these ones?” ned plops them out of his backpack and peter gasps dramatically.
“you have some? can i have them?” peter pleads, without context. he’s never asked for them before when ned had brought them.
“since when do you like chocolate pretzels?” ned quirks a suspicious eyebrow at peter. he doesn’t like hiding anything from ned, so he gives in and tells him with a sigh. he doesn’t tell him everything, only that you’re the one that likes the pretzels, not him. ned doesn’t need to know that you’re on your period and the ‘conversation’ that happened with jax.
“does she need all of them? i just bought these yesterday,” ned complains, while betty sits next to him across the cafeteria table and kisses his cheek. peter envied their love, even if it was questionably odd sometimes.
since peter sits so close to you in english, he envisions kissing your cheek while you answer a question on the sheet. you’d try to hide your heavenly smile, but then you’d give in and giggle next to him.
he daydreams about you so much, some might think it’s exhausting, but they’re really what keep him going.
ned explains to betty how peter needs his pretzels for you and peter interrupts him with an embarrassed “ned!” because he said that “peter is practically in love with you.” which isn’t… he can’t. betty then convinces him to hand over the bag.
“fine, but you owe me,” ned groans and rolls his eyes while betty giggles and kisses his cheek again.
—
peter couldn’t find you at lunch.
however, he did spot you at the end of the hallway where he unexpectedly ‘caught’ you yesterday.
your hood was covering your head, but the way your backpack dangled loosely from your shoulders alerted him that it was you. your bag had a single stitch on it that he’d never noticed before as he gazed at you in the hallway.
the place was nearly empty like before since the day had ended. you pushed open the door and hissed at the icy breeze, instinctively crossing your arms for more warmth.
peter follows you through the doors and catches up with you. your eyebrows raise in shock and you halt your movements, but you relax when you notice it’s just peter. you remove your earbuds and pause your music.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you,” he instantly apologizes, cheeks flushed. it was probably from the sudden chilly weather, but it looked adorable on his cheeks. his lips were more prominent, rosy and pink against his fair skin.
“you don’t have to apologize. it’s fine,” you tighten your arms over each other, teeth nearly chattering. you weren’t a fan of the fall or winter because you got cold very easily. you were definitely more of a summer gal.
“i, um,” peter lost his words. you would probably think that he’s a freak for actually getting you the pretzels. you’ll probably think he’s crazily obsessed with you (he kind of is, but not like that). his hands are shaking, and it’s not only from the weather. “i got these for you.”
you peer down with skepticism, a small bag of chocolate-covered pretzels in his hands. you look back up at him with awe in your eyes. your heart clutches tightly in your chest from the kindness. you’re not someone who cries a lot, or at least in front of people, but no one has ever done such a thoughtful action for you. it was such a small thing, but it affected you more than you could have imagined. you blame your hormones for the brimming tears in your eyes.
“oh no. are these the wrong ones? i’m sorry—”
“no, peter, these are perfect. thank you. i…” you were speechless. he’s so sweet. too sweet. he probably did this for everyone who needs it. you wish you had someone as endearing as him in your life consistently. you need it. peter’s wide smile is soon washed away.
“y/n? well, i didn’t think you’d go for as low as a nerd,” the familiar snobby voice of jax makes both of your heads turn. he wears a smirk on his face, arms crossed as he approaches you two more closely. his ‘sidekick’ friend follows behind him submissively. jax looks down at the pretzels in peter’s hand and laughs. “the nerd got her chocolates. what is this, valentine’s day? please, how pathetic.”
when people talked or spread rumors about you, you tried not to care. you never engaged because it would never stop. you just learned to live with it because it’s been years. you’ve heard jax talk shit about loads of people over that time. however, hearing jax disrespect peter right in front of you made your blood boil so much, you didn’t feel as cold anymore.
“leave him alone, jax. he’s done nothing to you,” you glare at him with daggers in your eyes and a strong jaw. you were much shorter than him, but your distaste for his attitude was bigger. “i know you don’t like me, but don’t take it out on him.”
“sweetheart, i can do whatever i want,” jax clicks his tongue condescendingly while inching closer to peter.
those words flashed a different image through your mind, but you forced yourself to stand tall. you don’t need reminding of the past.
he rips the pretzels out of peter’s hands and chucks them on the ground. peter barely moves, staring at jax’s soul with small backward steps.
please, don’t hurt him. you plead to some higher power.
“she doesn’t like you. she wants you to think that. she’ll make you think that she wants to sleep with you, so you look like a fucking fool,” jax snarls in peter’s face with clenched teeth and an flared nose.
“shut up,” peter grumbles with clamped fists so compact his knuckles start whitening from the pressure. protectiveness spread throughout his whole body like a disease.
“what did you say? speak up,” jax provokes, glaring down at peter with a snarl on his face. you have a feeling this will get ugly and you really don’t want peter to get hurt.
“shut. up.” peter huffs out each word, and jax finally swings. peter ducks quickly, so jax punches again with his opposite hand. peter dodges it swiftly, sliding away from his predictable hits.
jax growls in impatience and swings more wild and aggressively. peter blocks his ‘hardest’ punch with his forearm. he latches onto his wrist and twists him around, pushing him backwards.
“i don’t want to fight you, jax,” peter states honestly, with his hands up. he’s annoyed with his perseverance in this fight that he’s not going to win.
he practically jumps towards peter with anger brewing in his eyes. with his arms wide, he tries to cage peter against the nearby tree, but fails horribly. peter simply ducks and sweeps his leg, causing him to tumble onto his back. if he didn’t, jax would have collided face first into the wood. jax stumbles back onto his feet while his friend watches with a gaped mouth. peter knew he couldn’t fight jax, especially not at school. he definitely wasn’t scared to, but it’s not morally right to himself, may, or you.
but god, did he want to beat the living shit out of him.
what is wrong with peter’s thoughts?
“beginner’s luck. i’ll be back,” jax spits on the ground, trying to make a statement before stomping toward the gym with his not-so-much sidekick.
you stand frozen, your body in shock from peter’s incredible defensive skills. he walks over to you with worry cascading his face.
“are you okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t want to fight him—”
“peter, stop apologizing. i’m fine and that was… pretty cool,” you cut him off with your hands on his chest. his heart was racing and his cheeks were flushed, but he did just finish a fight.
and he totally won too.
peter thought he might dissolve. even in the cold weather, he might melt right into a puddle on the cement from your palms resting on his chest. he knows you feel the pounding organ behind his rib cage, which makes him blush even more. if he stands still any longer, he’ll be permanently frozen in overwhelming affection. to avert himself, he bends down to retrieve the forgotten pretzels and hands them your way.
“do you still want them?” peter cringes at the wrinkled bag in his palms.
“of course, i do,” you snatch them from his hands and tuck them possessively into your arm. “i mean, you fought for these! they must be really good.” peter chuckles, muscles relaxing at your optimism.
there was your warmth again.
“so do you walk home or take the bus? or can you drive?” you ask with some energy. the fighting woke you up and opened your eyes. literally. jax’s always been a douche, but fighting through an innocent person about something that happened years ago? that’s pathetic.
“i can drive, but i don’t have a car. i usually take the bus, but it’s long gone by now,” peter scratches his neck and shuffles awkwardly. sometimes he feels comfortable with you, but most times he gets so nervous he forgets sentences. or words. or thoughts in general. even though his anxiety was heightened, he really wanted to walk you home. he would float to cloud nine. “what about you? do you drive?”
“i’m in the same boat as you. or car…?”
“do… you want me to walk you?” he felt his fingertips trembling and stomach clench. every second you didn’t say something, he prepared for disappointment.
“i would like that,” you smile. you smile. with teeth and everything. your cheeks looked soft and your expression was genuine. peter felt his heart flutter and fly away, while his stomach was littered with butterflies.
you both begin walking along the sidewalk, the school fading in the distance behind you. walking made talking less anxiety inducing, and more comforting for him.
“so where did you learn to fight like that?”
—
HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT PART FOUR??!?
tags: @percyjacksonspeen @rafecameronsbadussy @slut4tomholland
