Peter Parker x Reader

Written In The Stars

A/N- All credit goes to the writer on Tumbler

Pairings ---> Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter 'protects' the reader from unwanted attantion.

Warnings- None.

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"Can I have your number?"

The horrifying question pulls you out of your work and into a waking nightmare as your eyes fall onto a boy, around your age, standing over your lonely library table, phone held out towards you expectantly.

You laugh, because it's your first instinct to, forced and too loud.

"Oh, I'm okay," you say nervously, hoping it's enough to wave him off.

The boy stands, stunned, wondering if you'd misheard. "I asked for your number," he repeats through his own forced laugh, inching closer to you, his phone only inches from your face.

Discomfort pricks at your skin as you bite your lip, unsure now of what to do. Your eyes stare directly at your now dim computer screen, your own reflection visible, your eyes not daring to look up at the stranger's.

As the screen of your laptop finally turns black you catch the glimpse of another stranger behind you before your head snaps to the shuffle of movement beside you. Another boy, this one tall and brunette, slides into the chair next to yours comfortably. Two pairs of eyes have fallen on him, yours particularly wide in surprise.

God, why you?

"Hey," he says with an easy smile, eyes focused solely on you. "Sorry I'm late." His hand reaches for yours, fingers linking together too naturally.

You recognize him now - you've seen him around campus a few times, definitely, but you're sure you've never spoken to each other before today.

"It's fine," you say softly, trying to wipe the shock off of your face to not flush all this new stranger's efforts down the drain.

"You could've just said you had a boyfriend," the boy standing over you scoffs, phone finally tucked away and arms crossed.

Words falter as he walks away - though your attention is brought back to your hand, still interlocked with a stranger's. Your intense gaze makes the boy next to you redden and suddenly retract his hand, nerves beginning to pick up now that he has no audience to act for.

"I'm so sorry," he begins immediately. "You looked really uncomfortable, I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable." His hands are raised in surrender while his knee bounces nervously, eyes glancing for a quick escape.

"That was pretty quick thinking," you offer with a small smile. "Thanks for getting rid of him."

The boy smiles back, just slightly. There's still guilt in his eyes as he looks over you and your makeshift work station, hands moving to grab his few personal items.

"I'm sorry, I totally interrupted your study session," he laughs awkwardly, shouldering the bag he'd dropped on the table so carelessly earlier.

"Well, technically..." The rest of your thought fades as you focus on the sudden flinging of a bag back onto the table.

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head, ready to ask the boy why he'd thrown his bag back down immediately before you notice how intensely he's looking at you.

"I don't think it's safe for me to go yet."

Something about his gaze tells you not to look behind you despite how badly you want to; you're sure it has something to do with a certain guy from earlier.

"I can take care of myself," you defend.

"I'm sure you can," he says in a tone so genuine it catches you off-guard. "I just can't, in good conscious, leave until he does."

Your lips part slightly at how much care a stranger holds for your well-being. It's a little strange, but not in the way that makes you shiver; strange in a way that makes your eyes wide and your cheeks warm.

"We could leave first," you suggest, closing the lid of your abandoned laptop. "I'm pretty much done anyway." It was a blatant lie, but there was no way for him to know that. Really, your motivator was not wanting to hold up any more of his time; how indebted would you be?

"Are you sure?" He only moves to pick his things up when you nod, accepting the interlocking arm you offer with red cheeks. He walks with you out of the library, stopping a good distance away from the primary doors and hopefully, any onlookers.

"Thank you..."

"Peter," he all but laughs, finding too much humor in the fact that you don't even know his name. "Peter Parker."

"Thank you, Peter. That was very nice of you."

"I try," Peter grins easily at you, taking a few steps backward as he waves goodbye. "See you around?"

"Yeah!" You call, though it's not certain; you don't have his number (as ironic as that is). "I'll see you!"

As Peter's back turns towards you and yours eventually turns towards him, you can't help the tingling of your fingers where they had been interlocked with his.

Nothing is certain. As far as you know, you may not see him for another couple of weeks.

Your next meeting will just have to be written in the stars.

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