I can't help falling in love with you Peter Parker x Reader {MARVEL}

Part 12 (THE TEA HAS BEEN SPILT)

Okay, this is Peter Parker's POV.

Hope you enjoy! 

Part 12 (Peter's POV): Y/n did beautifully in the play, and then we went out to dinner, then after that, the night spiraled into a hellish atmosphere. I watched as tears formed, fell, and then poured. Her dad was in the hospital, along with her uncle, and if she had been the one to drink that drink... "No, she wouldn't have drank it. She's smarter than that." I scolded myself. She came out of the store, and I was surprised how quick it was. "I thought women liked to shop..." I thought.

"That was a short time for shopping..." I muttered. "I hate shopping for clothes. All you do is walk around... see clothes... and more clothes... prices go up, and up, and-" She was asleep. Her head was pressed against the window, washed in a pale light. She looked so much like a ghost, I was afraid that if I touched her, she'd disappear. Aunt May looked at her, and sighed. "Poor Y/n... She doesn't deserve this... But then again when's life ever fair?" She asked. "It never is..." I answered. Y/n's h/c (or your color of hair) curly hair framed her face, obscuring half of it from view.

Aunt May moved up a few rows, and lay down, falling asleep. The city seemed oddly calm tonight... Spiderman wouldn't have to go out tonight after all... "Not yet anyways..." I thought. I took the hoodie out of the bag, and folded it. Then, I saw it wasn't a plain black hoodie. It had a printed design. My Spiderman logo. I set the hoodie down on my lap, and gently set Y/n down so the hoodie acted as a pillow. My jacket was on the other side of me, so I again, wrapped it around her so she'd be warm. The city lights were dimming, and the moon's gentle silver aura grew brighter.

I turned on the radio and heard the news. "The billionaire Anthony Stark, better known as the Iron Man, has been hospitalized, due to a poisoning at-" I turned off the radio, but it turned back on. "James Rhodes, has also been hospitalized because of a blackout during the wild activity. Now, what do you have to say about this Chef Harrison?" asked the female interviewer. A british accent came on the radio. "Well, I'll tell you this, we are closing down due to this devastating event, and we will be doing a thorough search of our cooking area, along with our storage. We will also hire professionals to search for anything we might've missed." "That's reassuring. However, do you know how this affected Mr. Stark?" "No, I have no clue. The maitre'd, and our best waiter were the only people in contact with them. I cooked the food myself, so I know it was not poisoned. If it was, it wasn't by me."  ***Strong words, I hope you're not the one proven guilty.*** I thought. The radio turned off as we pulled up to the apartment. 

Happy told me to wait before I left with Y/n. He kissed her forehead, like a father would do. Then, he went all serious again and told me to skedaddle. ***So many people like her... So why was it poisoned?*** I wondered. I took her into the apartment, and set her down on my bed. Aunt May went to sleep in her room, so I was left with the couch. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket and threw them on the couch. I changed into pajamas, and before my head hit the pillow, I was out.

_______________________________DREAM LAND :P____________________________________

"Oh Peter.... I love you..." I woke up hours later to a small distant voice. I put my head under the covers ignoring the small voice. It was the same dream. A female voice was always whispering those words. Every night, the same thing. The voice was vague, but familiar. This time though, I saw a face. Blurry, but perfect. Hair, h/l, and h/c. Or was it (hair color similar to yours)? The blinding white light was causing distortion. I was ripped from the dream, and into the dark night. Or, was it a dark morning? I looked over at my dresser and saw a photo of my mother."How did that get in here?" I asked. I picked up the picture and realised the woman in my dreams was my mom.