Siren (Peter Parker x Fem!Villain Reader)

15

Warmth.

Warmth is what Peter Parker feels as he makes his way down the hall to the conference room. For days, he's felt cold, numb, but now there's warmth blooming in his chest, and it feels so good. It reminds him of sitting in front of his apartment's tiny fireplace, the flames fanning his face and bringing color to his cheeks—the warmth of home.

As he walks, savoring this brief moment of comfort, he's painfully aware that it won't last. The warmth begins to thaw him, then grows into fire, eating away at the wooden wall of a dam, causing a deluge of feelings to flood his system. It isn't long before nerves overtake the young hero, his adrenaline spiking, his heart racing, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing straight up.

"It's okay," he reassures himself. "I'm just stressed out from the fight with Mr. Stark." He talked back to the Iron Man: of course his spider-sense is acting up. He's in big trouble—but he already knows that. Peter's spider-sense usually only warns him of sudden, unexpected threats and only lasts for a few seconds, but this time, the warning isn't just a quick nudge: it's more insistent, painful almost. By the time he's halfway to the conference room, it's escalated into a full-blown headache. He can hear everything, right down to the hum of electricity coursing through the walls of the Tower.

With every step he takes, the buzzing noise in his head intensifies. The fire inside him has evolved into a feverish blaze.

"Am I getting sick?" he wonders. "No, that can't be it. I'm just tired, that's all." He nods to himself. That makes sense. He's just tired, that's all, and as his muscles begin to relax, content with that explanation, that's when he hears it.

Her voice.

It's faint, but it's there, and it can't just be in his head: it feels too real. For a moment, Peter's heart lifts; he looks around hopefully, but to no avail: the hallway's still empty and
Y/N is nowhere to be found.

"I must be crazy," he mutters to himself. It's only his imagination, his senses playing some kind of cruel trick on him. Even more discouraged than before, he contemplates stopping, but knows he can't: if he doesn't confront this now, he never will.

She's gone.

So, with a deep breath, he trudges to the door.

"She's not here," he reminds himself one last time as he reaches for the handle. Everything's tingling. He feels like his body is on fire, yet underneath it all, the ghost of that calm, serene feeling he craves lingers.

He touches the handle, and suddenly it's all stripped away: the buzzing in his head is silenced, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck settle, the fire running rampant through his body dying down until all that's left is the familiar, gentle warmth he started with.

He has no time to marvel over the sudden change, however, because before he knows it, he's turning the knob and opening the door.

"Mr. Stark, I—" Peter starts to say, determined to get the first word in, but he barely makes it through the doorway before he's rendered speechless by the sight in front of him.

There aren't many things in this world that Peter Parker considers impossible — not since the spider bite. He's seen a man grow fifty feet tall, gone toe to toe with Captain America--hell, he's even fought his homecoming date's dad on top of an invisible jet--but this, this is impossible.

But he'd know those eyes anywhere.