#andrew!peter angst

[vhagarlovebot]

— BREAK ME LIKE A PROMISE

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader.

warnings: just pure angst, no happy ending.

gwen’s thoughts: i’m a real whore for angst so this will be very angsty. also partly based on all too well by taylor swift. you can picture any peter parker you want but i wrote this thinking of andrew’s peter.

you stared at the door as if doing that peter magically would appear, wearing his beautiful smile and lighting the room with his presence.

but peter doesn’t show up.

you wait and wait and wait, getting pity looks from your dad and the few friends you invited to your birthday party that know about your relationship with peter.

he knew today was going to be a special day. he promised you today you finally were going to go public. and you believed him as you always do.

for the first time in the night you stop looking at the door. tears in your eyes and a knot in your stomach as you prepare yourself to face the truth.

a hand on your shoulder makes you look up from your lap. “i’m sorry.” one of peter’s best friends is looking at you ashamed. as if this is any of his fault. “don’t know what happened but i spoke with him yesterday and he was very excited for this.”

“yeah, well, where is he then?” you get up from the chair you’re currently sitting on, drawing everyone’s attention. “thank you all for coming, it was a lovely evening. but i’m really tired and need to sleep.”

you know you’re being rude but you’re going to be sick if you stay there any longer, pretending everything’s fine while your heart is being crushed more and more every passing minute.

it’s only when you’re in the safety of your room that you let the tears fall.

what were you thinking giving peter another chance? this wasn’t the first, or the second, or the third one. peter parker has let you down more times than you can count. and every time he gets on his knees to apologize you say it’s going to be the last time. but it never is.

peter with his charm, his beautiful and bright smile, and his soft words knows how to make you fall for his lies again. and he just keeps getting better at them.

curled up on the floor you start thinking of the peter you fell in love with. the shy and cute peter parker who went to a pottery class just to give you a mug made by himself for your first anniversary. that peter parker would never to the things this new version has done to you.

you don’t know how much time passes but eventually you don’t have any more tears. you can’t keep crying over someone you had lost long time ago.

a knock on the window startles you and you immediately try to cover your tear-stained face from whoever is outside. and when you open the curtains, there stands the last person you want to see.

he’s fucking smiling and waving at you.

you open the window for him, against your will. and turn around not wanting to be laughed at. or make him angry, you’ve been through that with him before.

“you won’t believe who i saw today,” peter says, tossing his backpack on the floor and lying on your bed, arms behind his head and looking to the ceiling. “fucking brad pitt was at the table next to us.”

your heart breaks a little more. “us?”

“yeah, i told you i was going to have dinner with an old friend today.” you feel his eyes on your back but don’t turn around. you can’t do this looking at him because you’re weak and you know what’s going to happen if you let your guard down.

“you didn’t tell me anything.” you fight the urge to cry and scream and slap him. “at least not yesterday when i reminded you that today was my birthday party.”

“oh shit,” only then he remembers. he’s quickly beside you, grabbing your hands and trying to look you in the eyes. and you know what comes next. “i’m really sorry, sweetheart. but i told you today was special. we’ve been planing this dinner for over a month.”

your lips are trembling and you need to breathe in and out before speaking. “today was special for me too.”

he pulls away, your hands falling by your sides. “and i’m telling you this date was special. i haven’t see her in years.”

“today was my birthday, peter!” you can’t fight it anymore. your eyes filled with tears look at his brown ones, and he does not look sorry at all.

“now you’re just being selfish. it’s not like i have missed something important.” peter grabs his backpack, ready to climb out the window. “call me when you stop being a baby.”

he hasn’t even told you happy birthday. this is how much he cares about you.

before he can leave, you turn around. “i won’t.”

he stops, looking at you from his position. brows furrowed and a smirk on his face. he looks evil. “don’t do this to yourself. we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“i won’t be calling you. not tomorrow or any other day.” tears are streaming down your face. it’s hurts so much giving you the place you deserve because you know you can’t do it by his side. “i’m done with this. with us. i can’t do it anymore. i just can’t keep pretending everything’s okay between us when you’ve been acting like a total stranger for the past year.”

he doesn’t move from his position. it’s like seeing you cry doesn’t matter to him. “we’ve been through this before. we know how this will end.” at least he’s not smirking anymore. “i love you, you love me, we’re good to each other.”

“that’s the problem…” you laugh, no emotion on your face. “you don’t love me and we’re not good to each other.” it’s like those words snap him out of a trance and then he’s climbing back into your room. “don’t get closer!” there’s terror on your face, your whole body shaking with fear and sadness. if he comes closer you know you’ll fall right back into his arms.

“what are you talking about?” he sounds really confused.

“we’re done, peter. you’re a whole different person, it’s like i don’t even know you anymore.” you hug yourself, creating a invisible wall between the two of you. “you’re not the same peter i fell in love with.”

“people change.” he excuses himself.

“i know people change, peter. but you didn’t change for good.” he runs his hand through his hair, chest heaving. he really wasn’t expecting this. he tries to talk again, but you don’t let him. “leave, please.”

he stands still and you can see the engines working inside his head. you think he’d start begging for forgiveness, saying how much he truly loves you and how he’ll make this work. but he gives up. you’re not so important to him after all. this is how easy it is for him to let you go. and yes, you’re begging him to let you go, but deep down there’s still a flame of hope. you know the peter parker you knew and love is hiding somewhere.

he doesn’t say anything, just chuckles and climbs out the window, swinging away from your life. leaving a shattered version of yourself behind.

you fall to your knees, sobbing and hoping someday the pain will go away and the pieces peter parker broke will eventually fall back into place.

#&&. spideymatcha writes #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter angst #peter parker angst #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter fic #peter parker drabble #tasm angst

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ANATOMY- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Roomate! Best Friend! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Request/ Summary: In order to help Peter pass his Bio exam, you offer some hands-on experience with female anatomy. Study buddies are supposed to offer assistance, are they not? 

Warnings: fingering, teasing, petnames, praise kink, masturbation mentioned, swearing, fluff, MAJORRR flirting is happening. like friends with benefits that need to become a couple asap bc the tension is...

Notes: i fricken loved this request so thank you to the beautiful nonnie who sent it<33 this is perfect as my exams are this week... blugh. enjoy this fluffness<3

Thump! Thump! Thump! 

You frowned at the sudden noise, the sounds butting in to interrupt the soft stream of music you had playing from your speaker as you studied. With a huff, you untangled your limbs from the chair, throwing your pen on the sprawled papers across your desk, some of which had made it to the soft carpet below. 

Following the thuds, you trudged to your bedroom door, the posters nearly flying off the wood as you whipped it open. 

Your roommate, Peter, had his head down on the kitchen island, head-banging off his textbook as he murmured incoherently. You stifled back laughter, watching as he sighed, his cheek pressed up against the sticky tabbed pages, his own papers in the same state as yours. 

Everywhere. 

His eyes flickered up to you, dark chocolate orbs stormy and distraught. “I hate finals week.” he muttered, reaching up to grab a page filled with scribbles to crumble it in a ball between his fist.

 “Don’t we all?” you teased, walking over to your best friend to lean over his shoulder, resting your head against the solid muscle. “ Why? Why did I decide to get a post-secondary education? Why couldn't I just... I don't know sleep all day?” he sighed. 

“Because you’re extremely smart, and you can’t just sleep all day. You’re not a cat, as much as you act like one sometimes.” you laughed, noticing as he began to purr as your hand weaved through his long, messy locks- scratching his scalp. 

“I wish I was a cat.” he grumbled, removing his head from the makeshift textbook pillow to lean into your touch. “You’d be a terrible cat, you move around too much. Plus, I don't think cats need to study…” 

“Female anatomy. ” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. 

He was stressed and he was tired. You didn’t need to be his best friend to be able to tell. You wanted to help ease his stress, help soothe the tension for more than anything. 

What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t?

 “Sounds like you need some hands-on experience.”

 His eyebrows shot up, a look of shock and surprise forming across his face at your words. “You offering?” he teased, nudging his beefy shoulder against yours. 

“Course I’m offering puppy. I’d be a pretty shitty best friend if I didn’t” you smirked, clenching your thighs together as he looked you up and down. 

The look on his face said it all. 

His pupils widened, his gaze turning dark as he tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. He realized you were serious. “Plus I can’t even tell you the last time you've been laid, but I do sure as hell hear you with your hand down your pants at one am-”

 “Oh you little minx.” he growled, sliding off the barstool to hoist you up over his shoulder, making you squeal as he slapped your ass. “I’m just saying you might need practice-” 

He snorted, tossing you down on the couch as if you were a sack of potatoes. “Yeah? I’m sure your vibrator does the job perfectly doesn't it? It makes you finish as well as I did?” 

His question made you still, making you swallow as you held eye contact. Slowly, you shook your head. It wasn't nearly as good as he had made you feel the last time the two of you “fooled around, as best friends do”, and he knew this.

 “I know, so shut it. Plus, I’ve been studying.” he winked, smiling as you lifted up your hips, helping him as he tugged your gym shorts off, throwing them on the hardwood below. Suddenly, his hands stilled on your thighs, stroking them gently with his thumbs. 

“Are you sure you want this? I know we haven't… done this in a while and I just want to make sure you were serious andstillwantm-” 

“Yes. Yes puppy, yes I want this.” you smiled softly, cutting off his rambling, something he tended to do when he was unsure of himself. “Do you want this?” you asked softly, tenderly brushing his hair from his eyes, dark caramel highlights shining from the soft sunset that filtered through the large bay windows. 

“Of course I do angel. I need to study, don't I?” 

You nodded, the feelings of his warm, slightly callused fingers toying with the waistband of your panties making your heart race, your vocal cords unable to function properly.

 “Better get to it then.” you whispered, voice husky as you struggled to catch your breath as he slid your soaked panties down your legs, their fate meeting your shorts on the ground.

 “I need a full analysis sweetheart. Like this-” he tapped your clit gently, making your hips wiggle against the cushions as you moaned. “This is the clit. I can get anything I want from you, if I treat her nicely.” he smirked, watching as your hands gripped the couch firmly as his thumb began to circle it teasingly. 

“You're a menace, Parker.” you gritted out between clenched teeth, almost annoyed at the fact you were at his complete mercy. Peter was the only one who could have you like this, sprawled out and begging. 

You hated him for it. 

You made a mental note to take the last ice cream sandwich from the freezer as payback, the bastard. 

“You love it. And I remember from last time, you love when I do this.” he teased, his wrist twisting as he eased two fingers into your entrance, making you cry out as he stretched you. “Don't you?”

 “Yes!” you whined out, gasping as his fingers brushed your g-spot, reaching places you could only dream of. “From past data, I remember you like this too, don't you angel?” 

His fingers curled as he began to pump them in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Oh she does, doesn't she? Poor thing angel, but I need to practice.” he cooed, watching as your hips rode down on his arm, your body desperate. 

“Don't be so needy honey. It never gets you very far.” he tsked, increasing his speed as he tapped your clit in sync, in such harmony you saw stars as your head rolled into the pillow. “Can’t- Peter-”

 “Yes you can. Yes, you can angel, just listen to the sound of my voice okay? I’ve got you, let go.”

 You obeyed. 

With a scream of his name you shattered, orgasm coaxed out of your body from his nimble fingers. It was an out of body experience, the way he guided you through your shaky legs, your shallow pants. 

“You’re okay, you're okay. Did so good for me angel, so so good.” he murmured, scooping the cum that had trickled down your thighs with his fingers to smear it through your folds. 

“If you don't get an A-plus Parker, I swear to god-”

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter smut #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter fanfiction #andrew!spiderman #andrew!peter imagine #andrew!peter angst #tasm!spider-man #tasm!peter x y/n #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spiderman x fluff #spiderman fluff #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fluff

[planetnini]

when we were young, peter parker

࿔･ﾟ*࿐ A HIGH-SCHOOL REUNION DIDN’T SOUND TOO BAD. On the surface, there would be free food and drinks but on the other hand he’d have to deal with the handful of comments about university, photographing Spider-Man for The Daily Bugle and an abundant amount of the apologies regarding Gwen’s death. He certainly wasn’t expecting to actually reunite with Y/N who he hasn’t spoken to in almost a decade...

pairing! andrew-garfield!peter x fem!reader

warnings! angst, fluff, swearing and my terrible writing <3

word count! 2.8k

author’s note! its been too long since i have written so i used a sample response i did for school and then reframed it into this little thing. sorry rooster fans, i always say i promise i will update but i actually will soon :( i apologise. have fun with this half angsty half fluffy piece. very adamant on part two bc i don’t know if anyone will like this </3 NONETHELESS, ENJOY! 

The sun bathed his eyes in chestnut, augmenting the colour of chocolate with milk and the fresh earth. Peter let out a breath, a relieving kind that sourced from the bottom of his chest as he closed his eyes.

Shaky inhales and exhales escaped his mouth in succession before goosebumps travelled up the back of his spine and up his arms. It is silent– absolutely quiet– save for the commotion downstairs. An upside to being bitten by a radioactive spider was that all his senses were heightened so whilst the party was happening a couple stories below in the school hall, he could hear the thumping of the music and muffled laughter which would ground him to the present rather than blank out on an empty rooftop for hours. Peter stood on the roof observing the sun which was beginning to set as the yellow hue dissipated, resulting in a coral orange tint to take over the skies above. 

Peter wasn’t too sure why he decided to dress up this morning or why he had this sudden urge to go to the reunion because, frankly, the students didn’t know he was and if they did they didn’t care— the only reason they would speak to him would probably to only ask about his job at The Daily Bugle. Photographing Spider-Man was a pretty big deal for a nobody like Peter.

It was pretty much useless when he had gotten the invitation to go to this event only a decade after he graduated. Peter tried to put the past behind him as he focused on his biophysics graduate degree and now his biochemistry doctorate which he was only halfway through. It had been difficult balancing his secret identity, working as a freelance photographer for The Bugle and also being a university student and if there’s one thing that everyone knew about Peter, it was that he took on more than he could manage so it was only fair for him to take a break every now and then. He didn’t need to prove anything to them by being here and he definitely had nothing to brag about (which was a bunch of bullshit) so he opted to watch the sunrise on the rooftop. 

No one would ever admit that it is a good thing to be back at school but Peter couldn’t help but reminisce and miss what it used to be. He had done a lot of that the past decade when he wasn’t busy. He missed when Uncle Ben would drive him to school when he wasn’t bothered skating; he missed sitting in the bleachers with Gwen— he missed her so much… He also missed Y/N and how she was able put up with him for almost two decades.

The soughing of the wind in the canopy of branches, faint sound of music and laughter drew Peter from his hypnosis, making him aware of his surroundings as his left hand brushed against the roots of his hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face. The beer in his right hand was only half finished before he decided to ditch the reunion that was happening.

Peter felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the door behind him closed. He heard a familiar voice as someone walked up the stairs using his super hearing so he definitely let down his guard a little upon her arrival. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realise someone else would be up here.” her voice echoed the expanse as he kept his head turned to the sun. There was sincerity evident in Y/N’s voice which made the corners of his lip turn upward, an eye to eye smile that did not matter at alleviating the strange beat of his heart. He fought every bone in his being to spare his old friend a glance instead looking down at the ledge, his fingers traced the beer bottle, “Are you okay?” she questioned.

Peter sighed… Out of all the people he could have possibly met from the hundreds of students at the reunion he was sure that none of them led back to the girl from his past — the world definitely had it out for him by sending Y/N to him. He pursed his lips together as he finally made eye contact with the girl.

The fact is, he had her memorised like the back of his palm even after many years so it was no surprise to see she had grown, “How are you?” he managed to get out as she stood where she was, unsure of whether to stay or leave. 

“Peter Parker…” she spoke, her saccharine voice making the hairs on his skin stand up. 

It was like as if they were both magnets- Y/N being his true north as he looked her in the eye. Torment lined the edge of her eyes as she refused to give in to her tears, though the agony was violently clinging onto her throat, trying to escape. 

Eyes stinging with tears, Y/N shook her head, crossing her arms around her body, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I thought I would never see you ever again,” he prompted once again trying to get her to talk to him but she couldn’t, “How long has it been?”

Y/N approached Peter and put a hand up, slapping him across the face. She got in a decent slap but knew that it probably didn’t do much to leave any marks. Peter chuckled as he shook his head turning back to her figure, “I was beginning to get worried you had gotten yourself killed.” she commented with her arms crossed, a scowl evident in the way her brows furrowed.

It was Peter’s time to scoff trying to dispel the feeling in his stomach, “You could at least fake some sincerity. I know how much you hate me,” he stated and she was about to rebut until she remembered that she had just slapped him right across the face

“It’d be hard not to, especially after what you did.” she mentioned. His jaw clenched as he turned away from the girl and back the ledge with his beer. 

“Is that how you welcome your friends, eh?”

“You have some nerve to call me a friend.”

“I’m sorry” he spoke- it was truly all he could muster now that he stared at her. Peter glanced up and all he could see was the same girl when they were kids. He could see the way her eyes spoke more than her words. Peter recalled all the times she would curiously ask about science, skating, photographing and all the things he was interested in and right now she was begging to know what happened.

“Is that all you have to say?” she questioned as he turned to run a hand over his face as he breathed in and out.

He shook his head and pushed away from the ledge pacing around in his own space, shaking his head, “No…” he finally let out after thinking, “I’m sorry.  I know I can’t make it up to you now and an apology isn’t going to fix anything but I genuinely am sorry. You can punch me if you want, not like you haven’t already slapped me.”

“Now I can finally say I’ve beat up Spider-Man.” she joked as a chuckle sounded from her mouth. Peter caught a glimpse of her eye to eye smile as he repeated this gesture.

“Well if we’re being real, you didn’t beat up anyone.”

“From your tone, it seems like that it will happen soon Pete,” she admitted, the nickname slipping from her lips which had been a force of habit.  She pursed her lips sighing before giving him a curt nod, “I… Uh, sorry for calling you that.”

Before the two drifted, and before the whole Spider-Man persona, she had known him as Pete and he had known her as Y/N/N so of course being around him again after many years would warrant some slip ups because, damn she really had missed Peter so much – too much in fact.

He shook his head in response trying to hold back a smile, “I haven’t heard that in a while…” he uttered and let out a sigh of exasperation, taking a swig of his beer. 

Y/N watched with sympathy at the boy she grew up with and she knew that it wasn’t a good sight to see. Peter was never one for drinking, sure he was reckless but he knew his limits, of course, with great power comes great responsibility but the area below Peter’s eye hung low with grief and a different kind of look that she had ever seen. 

She knew of Peter’s history with Gwen and that when she died, a piece of him died with her. As sad as it was to see her friend go, it was even worse to see how much it affected the people around her. Peter was no longer the same stubborn nerd who also secretly saved the city– he became hungry for vengeance and so blinded by rage that he completely lost himself and Y/N in the process. She didn’t know how much times had changed and didn’t like to dwell too much on him when she was off doing her own shit but every now and then when she’d hear a siren, watch the news or whatnot, she would always be reminded of the boy next door. The boy next door who wasn’t just Spider-Man but was Peter Parker underneath it all.

“I owe you so much more than this, Y/N. More than just being here with a lame fucking apology.” he sounded drunk out of wits end but he definitely wasn’t. This had definitely kept him up at night if Y/N still remembered Peter as well as she thought she did. All their arguments could be resolved fairly easily when they were growing up but one where the other individual moved across town, states, countries even, was hard to resolve. 

“No, you don’t Pete.” she sighed, knowing that he didn’t need to apologise. The two of them had their own respective reason to be mad at each other but it did not make the other individual’s point any less valid. Peter and Y/N were both grieving teens who were fuelled by their own coping mechanisms, causing them to push the other away. They both said fucked up things that they regret, Peter more than Y/N, but it didn’t make it his fault– she didn’t think she could ever blame him especially knowing that he had the extra added weight of Gwen’s death forever embedded within him forever. Any change, significant or minor, can create a sense of loss and Peter became the epitome of such. 

There is a beat of silence that follows her reassuring words. 

“Do you remember before we graduated you webbed up something if we ever came back in 10 years time?” she remembered as she finally took her place next to him by the ledge.

He turned to look at her before chuckling, letting his beer sit on the flat surface as the ledge, reaching under it as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes, Marlboro to be exact, “A pack of these bad boys.” Peter spoke observing the packet as he opened the box.

“You know for a smart nerd and a slightly above average student, preserving a cigarette for 10 years in the future was such a mistake,” she said, “I mean their shelf life must be like 3 months or something.” 

He opened the packet and to his dismay, the smell was as bad as he recalled. Smoking just wasn’t the Peter Parker way and it certainly wasn’t a Y/N Y/L/N thing too. “I found it on one of my first missions around and I didn’t want to smoke them, you did! So I blame you actually.” he admitted. 

Y/N feigned an offended look, laughing as she clicked her tongue, “I’ve been through almost 28 years of my life without smoking, I definitely don’t plan to start soon.” she retaliated as they laughed at each other.

“Twenty-eight huh?” he whistled as if that was such an old age, “It’s been a very long time.”

“Hey, don’t dwell yeah? It freaks me out when you do it,” she stammered as he nodded looking away from her, handing her the beer, “Thank you.”

“You never answered me,” he stated as she gulped down a bit of his beer, “How are you? It was a genuine question.”

“I would like to say good, but I think it’s just average,” she began and handed him back his beer, now they were standing a couple inches closer than before, “How about you? Last I heard, you were living the dream and all that.” she snickered as he tried his best to not snort at her comment.

“Oh yeah, there is definitely something so dreamy about JJ Jameson,” he exclaimed, drawing out his answer as he made Y/N laugh once more.

Y/N rolled her eyes shoving him with as much force as she could, “You know what I mean… About university and your studies– I hear you’re top of the class,” she raised her brows with a slight smile, “Not that I ever doubted that.” she added.

“Oh, no, yeah. I am at the top of classes and all, it’s good,” he replied as a response to her question, “I feel like I have no life.” 

“Are there other Peter Parker’s out there? I think they brought back a different one,” she joked, still quite unsure at his words, “Sorry, did you wanna talk about it?”

Peter has never been an excellent liar, despite it partly being his job, but something about looking into Y/N’s eyes had triggered some part of his brain that couldn’t lie to Y/N - in all fairness, she’d known him since they were children, “Definitely not another Peter. Just…” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m just tired is all.” he mumbled the last bit but Y/N heard it clear as day.

Her lips pursed before she reached to pat his shoulder, “Pete.” 

Y/N was belligerent– emotions swinging from pity to anger to sympathy like a pendulum.

“Hey, look at me,” she commanded as Peter turned to look at her, staring into her eyes, “I’m here right now okay? I won’t go anywhere and you might not want to hear this but you will get through this. You’re Spider-Man right? But underneath it all, you’re… you. Underneath that mask, there’s a human being.” 

Peter felt himself flinch at her words. It felt like a blade had slashed through her chest, leaving his bleeding heart exposed and vulnerable. He tried her absolute best to keep his face unchanged- the apathetic facade he had constructed was the only thing concealing his pain from the world, and he intended to keep it up no matter how difficult it had become. He wishes he could smile but there was this anchor weighing down in his chest so instead he opted to just staring into her eyes because it was the only source of comfort for him right now.

“You can’t save other people if you can’t save yourself first Pete,” she surmised, “Sometimes it’s hard to turn the page when you know someone won’t be in the next chapter, but the story must go on.”

There’s a tense silence that hangs in the air like a thick layer of humidity. It clings to him violently, ripping at his skin in an attempt to elicit any possible emotion it can. 

Her digits reached for his hands as she held them as a means to comfort him, it always used to calm him down when they were kids. Y/N remembered his mother would always kiss his hands when she had to leave for important business trips so she made it her own way of letting him know that he was okay, “It’s time to let go.” she reassured him with a faint smile.

Peter sighed as a tear fell from his left eye, he nodded as she tried her best to smile but failed to do so, now her eyes filled with tears also. He decided to make the first move as he brought his arms around her shoulders, bringing her in for a hug. The sigh that they both let out as they just hugged each other was cathartic and definitely needed in both cases.

Suddenly it all clicked in Peter’s mind…

Y/N was not just there to be moral support or someone to patch Peter up after a bad fight - she is and will forever be his partner. She is the one person who he felt comfortable talking to about being Spidey, a lifeline Peter never knew he needed, until her.

In many ways, it made him a better hero. Y/N does not have spider-powers, but she has the resolve and belief in Peter that he doesn't have for himself sometimes. She is responsible for reminding Peter that he can't be the Spider without first being the Man.

#i truly miss the nwh era #peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter fluff #andrew!peter angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #spiderman no way home #spiderman #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tobey!peter parker #tobey maguire #tom!peter parker #andrew!peter parker

[justabigassnerd]

Anyone else

Pairing - TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Word count - 3,880

Warnings - angst, mentions of a breakup, pining, swearing

Song - Anyone Else by Joshua Bassett

Summary - I did warn y'all I'll go off with Joshua Bassett songs given the opportunity. I've been listening to this song on repeat bc it's just so damn beautiful and bosh a fic idea popped up. I apologise if this is shite because this is my first attempt at writing any sort of pining. Anyways I'll stop rambling, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter wanted nothing but the best for you. You’d been best friends since your first day of school when you had approached the shy Peter and asked if he wanted to play with you at recess. The rest was history.

Peter was the best friend you could ever ask for. He went out of his way for you every day despite your protests. He’d always walk you to and from classes, even if it meant he’d be late to his own class. He’d always compliment your outfits, even if you hardly put any effort into what you were wearing. He made you feel like the prettiest person on the planet. He was your person, the one you could go to when times got tough. And you were his person. You were two peas in a pod, and you couldn’t bear to imagine life without Peter Parker in it.

Peter wanted the best for you, but he couldn’t help but be absolutely devastated when you entered your shared flat one day excitedly telling him that someone from one of your university classes asked you on a date. He tried his hardest to match your excitement, telling you how happy he was for you. Peter had gone to bed that night angrily scolding himself for waiting too long to confess the feelings he’d been harbouring for you since high school. He’d waited all this time just for you to get scooped up by someone else because he was too scared to admit his feelings. But because he’s Peter, your best friend since forever, he grinned and bore it. He listened to you gush about how amazing your boyfriend, Jacob was as much as you wanted and gave you advice if you asked for it, not that he would ever consider himself an expert on relationships. Peter wanted to hate Jacob. He wanted to resent the man for scooping you up, but he couldn’t. He took care of you and treated you right. Peter had trailed Jacob as Spider-Man a couple of times in the vain hope he’d discover that he was part of some criminal organisation or just a piece of shit that he could turn in to the police. To his displeasure, Peter found that Jacob was normal. No criminal activity of any kind. Just an average man living in New York.

Peter tried going on a few dates of his own, but no one could compare to you. The people he went out with weren’t necessarily bad people, in fact, he got on well with most of them. They just weren’t you. He couldn’t help but compare every little thing they did to what you would do. One guy he went out on a date with was an expert skateboarder much like Peter. Despite that, Peter couldn’t help but think about how god awful you were at skateboarding. Every time he talked you into stepping onto his board you clung to his shoulder like your life depended on it as he laughed at you. A girl barely paid attention to him on a different date when he spoke about his classes after she asked what he studied. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you always gave him your full attention. It didn’t matter if you were half asleep or that you didn’t quite understand what it was, he was talking about, you always listened. You always preached that you cared because it was something he was passionate about, and he deserved to feel heard.

“How come you haven’t moved in with Jacob yet?” Peter’s sudden question asked during your weekly movie night made you shift your gaze from the tv to him, sat with a bowl of popcorn on his lap as he kept his gaze on the movie.

“You want me to move out?” You ask, your voice small and your heart sinking at the thought of Peter wanting you to move out. You didn’t know what you had done wrong for him to say that.

“No! God, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. That’s not what I meant I swear. It’s just… you’ve been with Jacob a while now and most couples move in together by now. How come you and Jacob haven’t done that yet?” Peter apologises and rephrases, silently hating himself for sounding like he wanted you to move out. You moving out was the last thing he wanted.

“I don’t think we’re at that stage yet. I like him a lot, but I don’t think I’m ready to move in just yet. Besides, I don’t want to move out unless I know you have someone you can live with. I don’t want to leave you alone, Pete.” You say honestly, turning to face Peter as his gaze softens. He puts the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. You reciprocate the hug, smiling to yourself as you unconsciously nuzzle closer to him, enjoying the warmth and comfort his hugs provide you with. Peter’s hugs felt like nothing could ever hurt you, that the outside world couldn’t touch you while you were safely wrapped up in his arms.

As you curled up in Peter’s arms, he wondered if Jacob’s heart also skipped a beat when you nuzzled closer. He wondered if Jacob wrapped you up in the tightest hugs possible to protect you from the harsh realities of the outside world. Peter knew it was bad, to imagine you were his when he knew you had a boyfriend. But he didn’t care. He daydreamed all day every day what he would do if you were his. How he’d treat you with nothing but love and respect. He loved you so much it was so painful. More painful than any injury he has sustained during his years of being Spider-Man. Holding you so close was intoxicating, the familiar mixture of your perfume and shampoo wafts under his nose, still being able to make him smile and make his heart rush no matter how much he smells the familiar combination.

The comforting silence that had been created between the two of you was disrupted by the ping of your phone, making you sit up and detangle yourself from Peter’s embrace. As you turned to pick up your phone Peter couldn’t help but let his smile drop, knowing exactly who had texted you and knowing he’d never get to be that guy for you.

“Jacob?” Peter asks quietly, hoping against hope that he’s wrong and you’d tell him it’s Gwen. Hell, he’d even hope Harry was the answer. Anyone but Jacob. But he could tell from the smile that crossed your face that it was your boyfriend.

“He asked if I want to go around his tomorrow night.” You say, glancing over your shoulder, regarding Peter softly. Your expression didn’t read that you were asking for permission but rather you were asking if Peter would be okay.

“You should go. I can just patrol a little longer to kill time.” Peter laughs softly, a little heartbroken but not wanting you to miss spending time with your boyfriend just because he had feelings for you. Your smile dropped slightly at the mention of patrolling, it always worried you to no end when he went out as Spider-Man, but you also knew that there was nothing you could do to stop him.

“We should probably head to bed. You’ve got a class at nine and I don’t need to be dragging your lazy ass out of bed.” You laugh after glancing at your phone a second time, noticing the time.

“Have you considered; that my bed is much better than any class.” Peter says with a laugh as you stand up, picking up the near-empty bowl of popcorn and moving to the kitchen while Peter grabs the tv remote and turns the tv off, standing up and moving away from the sofa. You return from the kitchen and see Peter mingling in the living room doorframe.

“Come on Parker, we need our beauty sleep.” You say with a small laugh as you walk past Peter, your shoulder brushing up against his arm as you pass. Peter felt his arm warm up, feeling as if a spark had happened by the mere contact and set his arm alight. By the time Peter had regained focus on the world around him you were just disappearing into your room, calling back at Peter to turn all the lights off as he went before muttering something about the electricity bill under your breath. Peter nodded at your words, remembering stupidly that you couldn’t see him before following your instructions, turning all the lights off before retreating to his own bedroom.

The next evening came way too quickly for Peter’s liking. He wanted his classes to drag on forever so he wouldn’t have to watch you leave to go to your boyfriend’s house. When he returned home from his final class, the sun was just beginning to dip in the sky as he entered the flat and called through the space to announce his return and your head popped around the doorway to the living room with a smile, welcoming him back warmly. God the way his heart soared when you greeted him with that beaming smile of yours, it reduced him to a puddle every time.

“Hey Pete! Were classes, okay?” You ask, watching as Peter kicks his shoes off and shrugs lightly, his bag slipping off his shoulder at the action.

“They were alright. I have a bunch of stuff to do after patrol. Might be an all-nighter type of night.” Peter grumbles, thinking about all the work he has to do for his various classes.

“If you pull an all-nighter, I swear I will flip my shit. Don’t overwork yourself Peter, especially if you’re patrolling a little longer today. You need to take care of yourself.” You scold lightly, a slight pout appearing as you worry about Peter.

“Hey, I’ll be okay. I can handle one all-nighter. I am Spider-Man after all.” Peter says calmly with a smile.

“Spider-Man is still prone to exhaustion, and I don’t want you getting hurt because of it.” You say, approaching Peter and taking his hand gently. Peter’s breath hitched in his throat as your thumb grazed his knuckles.

“I’ll be fine.” Peter whispers, smiling and giving your hand a quick squeeze before dropping it, knowing he’d combust holding your hand any longer.

“Okay… well I should head out. Don’t want to walk to Jacob’s in the dark.” You joke, grabbing your jacket and throwing it on.

“Do I look okay?” You ask just as you reach the door, turning to Peter for approval, worry on your face.

“You look beautiful. You always do.” Peter says softly, a fond smile on his face as your face lights up, crossing over to him and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Pete.” You whisper, squeezing him tight as he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before letting you pull away. You thank Peter once more with a smile before turning and heading out the door, leaving Peter in the hallway alone. He turns on his heel and heads into his room, grabbing his Spider-Man suit and putting it on. He needed to patrol but he also needed to make sure you made it to Jacob’s flat safely. Once he was suited up, he climbed out his bedroom window and swung onto the roof of a nearby building, finding you walking the streets instantly. He followed you carefully, keeping an eye out for any harm that could come your way but to his relief, you made it to the flat safely. Having ensured your safety, Peter could focus on patrolling. The patrol was uneventful, he stopped a grand total of one mugging and that was all. He eventually returned home earlier than he expected because of the lack of crime and once he was showered and in some comfy clothes, he sat at the desk in his bedroom and resigned himself to getting all his work done. He got on with his work fine, but he couldn’t help but wish you were around to distract him, to force him to take a break because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know when to take a step back and relax for a moment. As Peter worked, he heard the door fly open and he sat up dead straight in an instant, listening intently to who might’ve just entered. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard your small sniffles and he was up on his feet in an instant, throwing his door open and heading to where you were standing in the hallway. He saw you fighting back tears as your eyes met his.

“y/n…” He starts, trailing off when you barrel into him. Wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest to supress your sobs. Without question, Peter led you carefully into your room, sitting on the bed with you beside him. He didn’t force you to speak, he let you cry as much as you needed.

“He broke up with me.” You say without warning as you calm down. Peter could’ve sworn his heart stopped in his chest at your words.

“He what?” Peter questions, tightening his hold on you and fighting to keep his anger in check.

“He broke up with me. It seemed so normal at first. We had dinner and then out of nowhere he told me that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I think he made dinner because he thought it would soften the blow.” You whimper, burying yourself further into Peter’s embrace, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world. Peter’s heart was shattering at the sounds of your cries

“He’s an idiot for breaking up with you. He had the best person I know right in his grasp, and he let you go.” Peter grumbles, anger coursing through his veins at how he just broke up with you like that.

“Clearly, I wasn’t that great. He caught feelings for someone else and I can’t fault him for having emotions. I just can’t help but wonder where I went wrong. What did I do to drive him away?” You whisper, shifting so you could look up at Peter, tears glistening in your eyes and staining your cheeks.

“Hey, you did nothing wrong. You’re amazing and you didn’t do anything wrong. It was him. He fell for someone else, and he made the wrong move. Any person would be lucky to have you. You’ll find the right person soon enough.” Peter says, his voice soft and gentle as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I was ready to say it, Pete. I was gonna tell him I loved him.” Your whimper made Peter hug you impossibly closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head and rapidly blinking away the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. He didn’t want you to worry about him when you were the one who needed his comfort and support right now.

“I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay. It’ll just take some time and I’m gonna be there every step of the way.” Peter assures, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. His heart was screaming at him. Screaming for him to confess his feelings for you but his brain rebutted, knowing you were heartbroken, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to just confess his feelings. Right now you needed him to be your best friend, so that’s what he was going to be.

“It’s always been me and you against the world, hasn’t it? We can handle this. I know we can.” Peter continues when you don’t respond, leaning away from the hug slightly so he could address you properly. Your teary eyes met his soft brown eyes as you nodded.

“We can handle this.” You echo, and a small smile crosses both of your faces at your words.

“That’s my girl. Let’s get some rest, shall we? You said something about us needing beauty sleep?” Peter teases lightly with a laugh as you wipe your eyes and chuckle, nodding at his words.

“You better actually go to bed, Parker because if I wake up and find out that you pulled an all-nighter I’m hiding your Spider-Man suit for at least a week.” You manage to joke as you wipe the remainder of the tears from your eyes. Peter noticed you still had some tear stains on your cheeks and out of instinct, tugged his hoodie sleeve over his hand and gently wiped them away before realising what he was doing and pulled his hand away.

“Sorry, you just had some tears on your- I’ll go to bed. You should do the same.” Peter says quickly, releasing you from his arms and moving away carefully before getting to his feet and heading to your door. You say quick goodnight before Peter leaves which he returns hurriedly, leaving you confused about his reaction to his own actions.

In the passing days, Peter let you mourn your relationship. He let you cry on his shoulder if you needed to. Or he’d let you rant about how shitty it was for Jacob to break up with you in that way. No matter the emotion or what you wanted to do, Peter was there to listen and help. He knew you wanted to find your feet again after recently coming out of a relationship, so he didn’t make a move. You didn’t need to be overwhelmed with his confessions when you were still dealing with a breakup.

What Peter didn’t know was that you found yourself falling for him over the days. At first, you thought it was just your heart confusing the platonic love you held for him in your heart with romantic love due to your breakup, but the breakup had changed the way you saw Peter. When Peter offered you a shoulder to cry on or a warm hug when you were down, your heart would skip a beat, buzzing with excitement at getting to be so close to Peter. When the pain from your breakup began to pass and you began to consider dating again, only then did you realise that Peter was the guy you wanted to be with.

You had fallen for your best friend.

After about a month after your breakup and you felt ready to put yourself out there, you decided that you would bring the subject up in front of Peter to see how he felt about it. You valued Peter’s opinion on things like this and you also secretly wanted to see how he’d react. You knew it was wishful thinking, to believe that Peter might like you in the same way you like him, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m thinking of beginning to date again. What do you think?” You say casually as you lie across the sofa one afternoon, looking up at Peter from where your head rested on his thigh. You didn’t see Peter’s slightly widened eyes at your words before he composed himself, looking down at you with his ever gentle gaze.

“Do you feel ready for that?” Peter asks. You could tell there was no malicious intent behind his words, there never was when it came to the two of you, only concern and his slight protectiveness.

“I do, yeah.” You confirm, smiling slightly as he nods, swallowing thickly before he opens his mouth to talk.

“Okay, I need to tell you something. Something important. I like you y/n. As in, more than a friend. I’ve liked you since our senior year of high school and I was always too scared to make a move because I never wanted to lose you. When you started going out with Jacob, I was so mad at myself for letting the kindest, most gorgeous person I know slip from my grasp just like that. And then when you broke up, I knew I’d be a dick if I tried to make a move straight after that, so I waited for you to be ready. Because I don’t want to risk losing you to someone else again. I am done pretending I want anyone else. And if you don’t like what I just said then we can just act like this never happened and just continue being friends because I don’t want to not have you in my life.” Peter rambles nervously as you sit up, your gaze not once leaving his as you shuffle around to face him. Without thinking, you grabbed Peter’s hand and grazed your thumb along his knuckles.

“Peter I… I like you too. More than as a friend. I’ve realised you’re the only guy I want to be with. You’re amazing, and I know I don’t deserve you.” You trail off before Peter hauls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Don’t say that. You deserve the world and more. You deserve much more than an idiot who swings around the city every day in spandex.” Peter says, his chin digging into your head as he speaks.

“Well, it’s a good thing all I want is an idiot who swings around the city every day in spandex.” You say with a smile, shuffling back and looking up at Peter. He gently leant forward and rested his forehead against yours, gazing softly into your eyes.

“I’d like to take you out on a date. Is tonight, okay?” Peter asks with a cheeky smile, laughing quietly as you nod against his head.

“Tonight is more than alright, Mr Parker.” You reply, laughing as Peter pulls away, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“How about I take you to that little restaurant that’s not too far from here? It’s not too expensive but it’s still a nice place.” Peter offers, stretching back and looking over at you.

“Sounds perfect Pete.” You grin, moving back into his arms when he opens them up and gestures for you to come closer. You smile to yourself as you rest your head on his chest, his heart was beating quickly, still overwhelmed with the confessions.

Peter couldn’t believe that you reciprocated his feelings. He was now holding you in his arms with the knowledge that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. With you in his arms, it felt like the whole world had melted away and it was just the two of you. No outside world to call Peter to action or bother you. As he held you, he thought about how he was going to be the best boyfriend ever for you. He loved you with his whole heart and he’d make sure you felt loved and always had a smile on your face. He’d lay down his life for you because of all the love he held for you in his heart. He didn’t want to even imagine being with anyone else but you.

Peter Parker was well and truly in love with his best friend.

Correction. His girlfriend.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #andrew!peter angst #andrew garfield #andrew!spiderman #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm fic #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman 2 #tasm 2

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Separation Anxiety

Ship: Spideybrock, Spideyvenom, Eddie/Venom/Peter

Rating/Word Count: Explicit, 4k;13k+ total, WIP

Tags: Andrew!Peter Parker, Tom Hardy!Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort, backstory chapters, hive mind dynamics, canon typical violence, mentions of assault

Turns out, Hell extended outside of the clinic, stuck to him like a bad odor, because Eddie was waiting for him in the goddamn parking lot. He huffed out his obvious irritation and glared at the man(men). 

Eddie stood and held both hands up, giving him a gentle, peaceful smile. 

“Okay, this time V did find you. But we come in peace. We’re just worried Pete, that’s all.”

Peter was too fired up and self-destructive to accept something soft like compassion and a nickname right now. He had already sold himself off the idea VE would ever deem him worth the trouble, so he struck a match and tossed it on the toothpick bridge he’s been able to build between them. 

“You don't need to be ‘worried’ about me dick, I’m a grown-ass man, I can take care of myself!” Well, obviously not, or you wouldn't be here, his mind so eloquently reminded him. He shook off that hateful voice and projected his anger back on Eddie. “You don’t even know me, why the hell do you care? Because I’m pathetic? Because you think you need to save me? Have you forgotten who I am?”

Eddie sighed but let Peter get it all out, pushing his hands into his jacket pockets to reduce any hint of a threat from their side. When Peter finally stopped shouting, Eddie looked up at him. Peter's eyes were damp with tears, looking just about everywhere but them. 

“Feels better right? Getting it out?”

Peter couldn't look at him, he flexed his jaw but his eyes couldn't raise above the concrete. 

“Peter, I know what it feels like to go through tough shit alone. I just- if you wanted a distraction, we're here. That’s all.”

#sinful sunday #spideyvenom #spideybrock #symbrock #venom #eddie brock #peter parker #tasm 2 #the amazing spider man #andrew!peter angst #tom hardy!Eddie #andrew!peter parker #venom symbiote #separation anxiety

[c1nnam00n]

me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

#percy jackson #angst #bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc comics #draco malfoy x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #haikyuu #smut #dick grayson x reader angst #batman x reader #marvel #spiderman #peter parker x reader #jjk x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #bill kaulitz x reader #percy jackson x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #alec lightwood x reader #andrew garfield x reader #carl grimes x reader #conrad fisher x reader #avatar aang #avatar the last airbender #aang x reader #fanfic

[p3terparker]

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.

you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.

“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”

“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”

“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.

“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”

“very. now come lay back down”

you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.

“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”

“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.

“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.

“you are truly such a big baby”

“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”

how could you deny him?

“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 

“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.

“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.

you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.

“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 

“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.

you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.

you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield fluff #andrew garfield smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #spiderman smut #peter parker blurbs #peter parker imagines #spiderman #andrew garfield #tom holland #marvel #peterparkerblurbs

[alwaysmoncheri]

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

<3

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

<3

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

#my works ──★ ˙☕️ ̟ !! #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter angst #tasm! peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker drabble #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield

[devilfic]

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

[slytherheign]

YOU BELONG WITH ME | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: high school senior!tasm!peter parker x high school senior!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

SUMMARY: you can’t help but feel insecure when you realize your best friend peter and the most famous girl in the school are keeping a sweet secret from you.

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, awkwardness, jealousy, insecurities, self-loathing, reader is an overthinker and assumes things easily. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. angst with happy ending. dedicated to @joshiiieeenesx, thanks for supporting me and requesting this. i hope you’re having a great day!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS YBWM (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was Friday Night.

Your favorite day and time of the week because of your tradition with Peter to order pizza and watch a movie. Tonight was a bit different though, you both decided to order your least favorite flavor of pizza and watch the lowest-rated movie ever. 

Peter made a joke in the middle of the movie, causing you to laugh and cover your face with your hands. It was a habit you developed since you were a kid when a bully made fun of you for having an ‘ugly-laughing’ face. “Stop,” he chuckled as he captured your wrists with his hands. “Stop what?” you questioned unknowingly, allowing him to hold your wrists and pull them away from your face. You stared at him confusingly.

“Stop covering your face when you laugh,” he said. “I can’t see your pretty face.” Peter would always make little comments here and there about you, most of them being compliments. You ought not to make it serious since you’d always tell flirty jokes to each other, but you just can’t help but feel a little flutter in your stomach every time he would compliment you.

You tried covering the increasing redness of your cheeks with laughter. “I’m serious. Stop covering your face,” he told you. “What if I told you I’m doing it on purpose?” you thought of a quick funny remark.  “And why, may I ask, are you doing it on purpose?” he quirked an eyebrow. 

“Let’s just say, if you see my beautiful face when I’m laughing, you might just fall in love,” you joked, smirking at him. There was a tinge of the color red in his cheeks, but he was quick to hide it with a chuckle.

“Well, why don’t you let me see your beautiful face then let’s see if I really fall in love?” he remarked. Once again, you laughed because you didn’t know how to respond. Peter was laughing with you when his phone suddenly rang. He quickly stood up, covering the name of the caller with his hand before walking to a private secluded room in his house to answer it. You didn’t mind it. After all, everyone deserved privacy when they’re talking to someone on the phone. Besides, you were actually quite thankful because the phone call interrupted the growing awkwardness in the room. You paused the movie while Peter talked on the phone in the other room.

Minutes passed and you were getting bored of waiting for him. You decided to pull your phone from your jeans pocket and open the Instagram app for a bit. Your feed was pretty much full of your schoolmates that were either busy preparing for prom next friday or busy with the upcoming game on Monday. You scrolled mindlessly, double-tapping each post from your close friends when you stumbled upon a post from her.

Gwen Stacy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect body. The cheer captain, head of the planning committee, the smartest in school… well, not the smartest because that would be Peter… but still the smartest girl in school. Having all that, you’d think she was the type to be the typical mean girl, but no… she’s actually the nicest.

In the picture, she was smiling with the other cheerleaders, their teeth as white as snow and their faces as beautiful as barbie dolls even when they were sweating. Sometimes you just wonder if they ever had a bad hair day or they’re just perfect all the time.

“Please! Gwen, come on!” you heard Peter yell. Gwen? Why was he talking to Gwen Stacy?

“Really? Yes!” you heard him exclaim excitedly. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, the feeling was unwelcome because you knew he wasn’t even yours to begin with. But still, it hurt.

The next thing you heard was his footsteps nearing the door. You collected yourself immediately, greeting him with a smile as he opened the door.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, with the same fucking smile you fell in love with. He sat next to you on the couch, subtly putting his arm on the back just around where your head was resting. He grabbed the remote from your hand, but for a few seconds, you felt it linger when his hand touched yours.

He pressed the play button and you both continued to watch the movie.

“Okay, just so we’re clear. You think Peter and Gwen are dating?” your other friend, Mary Jane, iterated on the phone. It was Sunday night, the only time MJ had free time this week since she was also a cheerleader.

“Yes,” you answered clearly. “I heard them talking on the phone the other night. Peter seemed really happy and excited.”

“And what do you feel about that?” she asked.

“Uh–I don’t know?” you admitted.

“I call bull. Come on, I know you’re in love with Peter.”

“Okay. I do have feelings for him… but I don’t think he feels the same about me. He probably asked Gwen to be his prom date even though we promised we’d take each other to the event.”

“So you’re not going to prom anymore?”

“I mean I already have a dress so I guess I’ll still go. It just sucks that I’ll be going without him.”

“Since when did you get a dress?!” 

“Uhh… since last week?” 

“And you didn’t even tell me?” she made a sound of absolute shock. Knowing her, you knew she probably had her hand on her chest while making that sound. “I could’ve helped you pick.”

“It’s not a problem honestly. Besides, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Can you at least tell me the color?” she pleaded.

“Blue. Like the kind of blue in Spider-Man’s suit.”

“Weird way to describe a color. Is there a specific reason why you chose blue? I thought you never liked blue.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you but don’t tell anyone about this because I think Peter is kinda embarrassed about it… Peter is obsessed with Spider-Man. He’s such a huge fan of his–maybe even his number one fan. He even tried to hide it from me, but when I found a Spider-Man suit in his closet he just started getting really nervous and he only stopped when I told him it’s fine if he’s a fan. I’m not judging him, I think Spider-Man is really cool too,” you explained. “I was hoping he’d notice the color reference but now that he’s going with Gwen Stacy, I doubt he would even look at me.”

“You really think Peter would ignore you? Have you seen how that man looks at you?”

“He looks at everyone like that. It’s nothing special,” you denied.

“Listen, believe what you want to believe but I know Peter is definitely in love with you too. But if you did end up alone and out of place at the event, you’re welcome to sit with me.”

“Thanks, but you literally have a date. I don’t wanna be a third wheel,” you laughed. “I appreciate the thought though,” you exchanged goodbyes not long after that, wishing her good luck on their cheer performance.

You thought hard about what she said. Peter did become more clingy to you these last few months and he always made sure to text or call you every day. You guessed there really was a chance Peter shared the same feelings with you. 

Maybe he was just talking to Gwen as a friend.

You were at the gymnasium where you'd have to watch student-athletes pass the ball to each other, all having the same objective to shoot the ball in their respective goals. And when a member of a team claimed their shot, it would repeat all over again. 

You were never into sports. If you had a choice, you’d rather stay in bed and continue reading Looking For Alaska, but instead, you were stuck sitting on the bleachers while watching cheerleaders dance their routine in such a flawless manner. As much as you wanted to focus on MJ and support her, your eyes couldn’t help but look at Gwen. She really was mesmerizing.

You were too busy comparing her shiny legs and the way they moved with their short flowy skirts with your simple t-shirt and sneakers to even notice someone sitting beside you.

You continued watching Gwen dance, focusing on her pretty face and realizing that even in her sweaty condition she still kept dazzling everyone in the room with her beautiful smile. You noticed her wink in your direction. For a moment you thought she was winking at you, but when you followed the direction she was smiling at you noticed it was directed at someone beside you—Peter. 

Funny. You didn’t even know Peter was beside you.

“Hi?” you greeted, putting your best smile in front of him while your stomach ached from cruel jealousy.

“Hey,” he simply replied, before focusing on the phone he just got out of his pocket. He was busy texting someone. 

“So…you already have a suit for Friday?” you asked, trying to start a conversation. He shook his head. “Nope. But I plan on looking later today.”

“Cool. Do you want me to go with you? I don’t have anything to do after this,” you offered. 

He stopped and finally looked at you. You noticed how his eyes widened at your question and after mere seconds of looking at your eye, he looked away. He didn’t even need to open his mouth, his body language already told you that he already had someone he was going with.

You felt too sick to even hear his reply, immediately knowing the answer. You excused yourself, going straight to the bathroom to try to compose yourself and your body that was slowly starting to shake. You looked at yourself in the mirror, yelling inside your head to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. 

You and Peter were supposed to be inseparable. From childhood up until that moment earlier on the bleachers, you thought you would end up together.

All those years, you have convinced yourself you would be together and told the stars that he belonged with you.

But maybe he belonged with someone else.

And if you truly loved him, who were you to stop him from following his heart?

The moment you stepped inside the school tomorrow morning, Peter immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

If it was yesterday or the days before, you would’ve loved it and your stomach would’ve already been swarmed with butterflies. But today, all it felt was aching pain.

“Hey,” he kissed your cheek, a thing he always did whenever he saw you at school. “MJ told me you went home early yesterday because you weren’t feeling well. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve walked you home.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answered. It wasn’t fine, but how could you tell him he was the reason you couldn’t bear to stay at school yesterday?

“Well, I missed you. You got me really worried.”

And there it was again, the feeling of your heart jumping just from the words he said and how his voice spoke them. Was Gwen even okay with him putting his arm around your shoulder and walking with you in the hallways?

You did your best acting like everything was alright for the rest of today. Peter was busy texting Gwen for most of the time anyway, it wasn’t hard to convince him everything was fine.

Classes for Wednesday and Thursday were suspended to give way for prom preparations. You didn’t have much to do on Wednesday, so when MJ offered an idea to practice doing makeup and putting on the dresses to prepare for prom, you agreed.

You sat in your room in front of your vanity mirror while MJ did your makeup for you. She matched the eyeshadow with the color of your dress, and you must admit, she did amazing. Next was your hair, you requested it to be an updo, with the hairpins you picked out scattered attractively.

For a moment, you wondered what Peter could be doing right now. His house was just next to yours, his bedroom window facing yours and if you only pulled your curtains aside, you would see him through his window—if it wasn’t covered by his curtains.

Mary Jane snapped you back to reality by complimenting the details of the dress she just pulled out of your closet. “I need to see you in this dress now.”

You chuckled but complied nonetheless. With her help, you carefully put on the dark blue long dress. “Shit. This dress is made for you,” she complimented. It was true, you were indeed a vision. The dress hugged your body perfectly and the details were perfect to your liking. You never liked the color blue, but this dress got you second thinking. 

After putting on your heels, you checked yourself out in the mirror when MJ’s phone suddenly rang. “Peter? Hi,” she answered. As soon as she said his name, you turned around to face her.

“Are you okay?” MJ asked Peter. “You sound ill.”

“What’s happening?” you didn’t care anymore if Peter wasn’t talking to you. Something was wrong with him based on MJ’s reaction, and you were concerned.

“Oh my god.”

“MJ, what is it?” 

“Something is really wrong with him. I think we need to go to his hou–” she didn’t have the opportunity to finish her sentence when you immediately walked out of your room still in your dress and on your way to Peter’s house. MJ followed you but stayed outside Peter’s house. She smirked the moment you entered his house. Everything was going as planned.

Aunt May was thankfully on vacation somewhere, you couldn’t imagine her reaction if she saw you rushing towards her nephew’s room in a long dress and in heels. 

You carefully knocked on his bedroom door, announcing your presence. “Y/N?” he asked and you hummed in response. “I’m in here,” he answered from the next room. As far as you can remember, that room was an empty one. You weren’t sure why Peter was in there but in times of emergencies like this one, you didn’t care. “Can I open the door?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You did not expect what you saw.

The room was dark as a result of the windows being covered. On the floor were littered little candles with your favorite scent lit up to light the room in a romantic manner. There was an area left for you to walk leading to the middle of the room, which had a space just enough for two people. You also noticed the petals of roses scattered on the floor as a string version of your favorite song started playing. 

A figure emerged from the shadows—Peter. He offered his hand for you to take and only then when he led you to the middle did the fire from the candles revealed his outfit. He was wearing a suit that perfectly matched the color of your dress. You didn’t know how he knew the exact color of your dress, you would ask him that later.

You were both speechless, neither knowing what to say. “Wow…” he breathed out. “How could a person look so beautiful? You are unreal.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look handsome too.”

He held your hand and guided it towards his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before holding each of your hands with both of his.

“Peter?” you started to say. “What–”

“You know I prepared a whole speech just for this moment,” he interrupted. “And then as soon as I saw you, I just forgot every single thing in the world because you’re the only one that matters.”

Tears were starting to gloss your eyes but before you could start crying from his sentiment, you asked him a question that has been vexing you for quite a while.

“What about Gwen?”

His face was quick to react to your question. His forehead scrunched up, looking at you as if to tell you if you could emphasize your question.

“I thought you were together. You were talking to each other pretty much the whole week. You were texting and calling each other, she was with you when you picked your suit, and then I saw her wink at you at the game.”

His face slowly dawned with realization. As soon as he realized what you were talking about, he couldn’t help but laugh. But upon seeing your worried face, he stopped laughing at once and looked straight into your eyes with absolute seriousness.

“Gwen and I are nothing more than just friends. We are not together. We’ve been talking to each other a lot because I asked her for help on how to surprise you. She also helped me pick the right suit so I wouldn’t embarrass myself with a lousy one. She winked at me at the game because she was excited that after the game ended, we would set up this surprise. And also because I was sitting next to you in the bleachers, she kinda saw me stare at you while you were busy watching the cheer routine. The wink was just her teasing and being excited. It doesn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s only you. I only want you.”

“Shit. So I really just overthought the whole situation,” you chuckled. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid. Don’t invalidate your feelings, It’s completely understandable. If I was you I’d think the same too.”

After a short moment of soft understanding silence, you felt him stiffen. His hands now held yours a little bit tighter. “Can I ask you a question?” he finally said.

“Let me guess, you want me to be your prom date?” you tried to ease the tension with the obvious question.

“Yes, and no.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want to take you to prom, yes. But that’s not the only thing I want. I want to take you on dates, I want to dance with you not just at events organized by the school, I want to buy you flowers, every day if I can; I want to watch scary movies with you and laugh when you’re too scared and you hide yourself with a pillow, I want to watch sad movies with you and bring you tissues and cuddle you the moment you cry, I want to watch romantic movies with you and cringe together when the characters do something embarrassing and wrap my arms around you when you blush at something sweet that they do. I want the tears, the pain, the frustration, the confusion, the sweetness, the laughter—everything. I want everything. With you.”

“Pete…”

“We’re seniors. Next year, we’re going to college. We will take on different paths and places, but before that even happens, I want you to be my place that’s never changing. And if you feel the same, I want to be your place that’s never changing too. You have been my best friend since we were kids, and I don’t want my memory of us to be just two people being friends since childhood,” he said before resting his forehead against yours. “I am in love with you, Y/N L/N. Would you be willing to enter a relationship that’s more than friends with me?”

Tears glossed over your eyes again, but this time, you let one fall. Peter was quick to wipe it with his hand. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I will not hold it against you. Tell me you don’t feel the same and I will not cross the line of being more than friends. Know that I will not force you into a relationship you do not want. Tell me if you don’t feel the same and I–”

“Yes,” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “The answer is yes. I am in love with you as well, Peter Parker. I have been for a long time.”

Peter smiled, now feeling his own tears try to escape his eyes but he didn’t let them fall. “May I dance with you?”

You chuckled but agreed, letting him guide you into position. Your forearms rested on his shoulders, your hands softly stroking the back of his neck while his hands were positioned at both sides of your waist. As the music still played in the background, you both started swaying.

“I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re gorgeous,” he commented. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Your suit even matched my dress,” you said back.

“I’ll have to thank MJ for that.”

“Wait–MJ is a part of this?” 

“Of course, she is. How’d you think I knew the color of your dress?”

You suddenly remembered the conversation you had with MJ when she asked you about the color of your dress. And then you also remembered that MJ was the reason why you were even inside Peter’s house right now in the first place. Peter called her and then she said that something was wrong with him and urged you to come here. Where was she even now anyways?

Peter laughed as he watched your face change from confusion to realization. “You know what–I’ll give it to y’all. You, Gwen, and MJ are good at this,” you admitted.

“The dressing up with our prom outfits and dancing was my idea though,” he spoke as he guided you into a spin. “I wanted our first dance to be private, not in a room filled with other students.”

You saw him glance at your lips for a moment before looking back into your eyes. “I also want to do this,” he said as he leaned in closer and met your lips with his.

You’ve imagined this moment ever since your heart started beating for him. But still, the feeling of his lips against yours for real was better than what you’d imagined it to be. The kiss was soft but intimate, neither of you having a need to rush into things but at the same time making up for lost time pining over each other silently. You wished you could kiss him forever and stay like this but you eventually needed to pull away to breathe.

“So, you really thought I was in love with Gwen?” he teased while you were catching your breath.

“Way to ruin the moment,” you chuckled, lightly punching his arm before nodding.

“Shit. I really made you jealous?” he seemed really proud of what he had done from the way he was smirking.

“Are you happy?” you jokingly asked, rolling your eyes with fake annoyance.

“Am I happy? Of course, I am. I just kissed you.”

You couldn’t find the words to reply as you blushed harder than you’d ever blushed before. Instead, you just laughed out of blissful happiness.

For the first time ever, he saw you laugh without covering your face and it was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He couldn’t help but kiss you again.

Needless to say, the future was exciting.

If only he could tell you that he was Spider-Man.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST:  @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker angst #tasm peter parker fluff #spiderman angst #spiderman fluff #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x y/n #andrew garfield x reader #spiderman #peter parker #marvel #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield fanfiction #the amazing spiderman #andrew garfield #ybwm: the fic #tasm!peter parker x reader #rheignwrites: sweet street

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Pleading Through The Bathroom Door

--genre + trope: hurt/comfort, college!au, angst, slight fluff.

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader

--word count: 1.9k

--summary: after ignoring Peter's suggestion not to go out tonight, you run into a situation that makes you wish you heard him out.

--warnings: alcohol, language, throwing up, violence, creepy drunk guy, descriptions of a minor injury, reader wears makeup, angst, a little bit of fluff at the end, peter just wants to help:((.

--gif credits: @marlosrph

As you make your way back home through the brisk air of New York City in the fall, you pray to whoever was up there that Peter won’t be home when you get there. You loved him so much, but the thought of him seeing you in this ruffled state made you want to turn around and head back to the dinghy club you came from. Even though that was the last place you wanted to be, coming face-to-face with your boyfriend seemed worse. 

He begged you not to go out tonight, and you ignored him. One of your friends, Mariah, was having a hard time with her now ex-boyfriend, and what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help her take her mind off of things? 

The night started well, after a few tears shed by your friend, she was ready to party. It was her night to call the shots, you were just the moral support in the background. Because it was just the two of you, she never left your sight, especially in the state she was in. Her body was moving so carelessly. With her messy dancing and a drink in her hand, the last thing on her mind was the shitty breakup she endured. You were happy for her, for letting go and enjoying herself. 

As the night progressed, her body language was clearly betraying her words. She told you over and over again that she was fine, and that she swore she was okay. Just a few moments after those slurring sentences, she was pushing her way through the crowd to hunch over and empty her stomach into the nearest trash can. Making your way next to her, you bunch her hair into a ponytail and rub her back as she continues to hurl. She turns her face to look at you, tears spilling out of her eyes, “I’m so sor-sorry, (Y/N).”

“Hey babe,” slowly lifting her back up, “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. C’mon, let’s go home.” 

Her apartment was not even three blocks away, so you decided to walk there. She seemed to have sobered up quite a bit after she threw up, and the water from the corner market you stopped by helped as well. The walk home was uneventful, you two were mostly silent but picked up conversation when you were getting closer to her apartment. As you make it to the front steps, you watch her walk in and close the door behind her. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth, knowing that she made it home safe was enough to lift a slight weight off your shoulders.

That moment of peace is quickly stolen from you when you realize you have to get yourself home safe too. It’s only a few blocks away, so it should be fine. Moving your feet towards the direction of your apartment, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Picking up the pace and turning a corner, you realize that there is someone behind you. A taller man, definitely bigger than you, makes direct eye contact with you as you look over your shoulder, an ugly grin rising to his face. Your entire body went rigid as you picked up the pace. Reaching a hand towards your purse, you pull out your phone, hoping to call Peter. What you’re met with is a black screen, it’s completely dead. Placing your phone back into your purse, you start to make unnecessary turns, hoping that the man tailing behind you was just some sick coincidence, you hoped that he was just headed home as well. 

The footsteps behind you become louder, and before you can comprehend the distance between you and him, a calloused hand grabs your arm and pulls you to the ground. Stalking his way towards you, you quickly get back on your feet and walk backward as quickly as you can. “C’mon sugar,” his words slurring, “come with me back to my place…you’ll have a good time, I promise.” He’s evidently wasted, so wasted to the point where he’s swaying where he stands. He reaches out to you again, trying to grab you by the arm again to drag you to God knows where. This was all you needed for you to reach for the pepper spray Peter got you a few months ago. At the moment, it seemed silly. Your boyfriend, Spider-Man, was giving you an obnoxious-colored can of pepper spray to defend yourself. Now standing in front of a drunken idiot about to lunge at you, it didn’t seem silly anymore. 

He was more than close enough for you to spray the liquid at him, and as soon as you did, he hunched over, doubling in pain as he shouted profanities towards you. You took this as your opportunity to run as fast as you could, and you did. The overwhelming fear of being handled again coursing through your veins remained as a motivation to keep moving.

 You’re still a little drunk as the feeling of paranoia heightens every time you look back behind you. One more glance over your shoulder was all it took when a piece of uneven pavement caught your toe, and you came face to face with the concrete once again. There’s a burning pain on the palms of your hands, along with a pulsing feeling spreading its way from the open wound on your knee. 

Trying to recollect how you got into this situation in the first place plagues your mind and keeps you occupied until you’re met with the front door of your apartment. As you make your way up the stairs, the possibility of Peter being home ignites a wave of anxiety through your bones. There’s a slight hesitation when you come face to face with your front door, you take a deep breath in before you grab your keys and unlock the door. 

Peering in, there are no signs of Peter, a breath of relief and a wave of sadness overcome you. A part of you wishes he was here to help you, his mere presence was always enough to make the worries of the day leave your system. 

Turning on the harsh light of the bathroom, your eyes strain at the sudden burst of cool light. You try not to make eye contact with yourself in the mirror as you reach down for the medical supplies box under the sink. After you have placed everything on the small bathroom counter, you set yourself down on the lid of the toilet. With shaky hands, you open the container and pick out some things you need to fix yourself. As you reach for the box, you notice a discoloration on your arm, roughly the same size as the man’s hand. 

As if right on cue, you hear the god-awful sound of the creaky window open, followed by a soft thud of Peter hopping down to the floor. “Fuck,” you curse to yourself as you run to the door and lock it quickly. 

Walking towards the kitchen, Peter can see the light in the bathroom is on, signifying that you made it home before him. “Hey baby, you’re back early,” he reaches for the handle to find that it’s locked. His brows furrowed in confusion.

You clear your throat, “Ye-yeah, Mariah wasn’t feeling too good, so we left early.” You shake your head in defeat, even after clearing your throat, your voice still shaking. 

Peter’s senses picked up on your unease and he reached for the handle for the second time, twisting it this time, “You alright, (Y/N)?”

A spark of panic, he knows something’s up. You ditch patching yourself up, messily putting the supplies back into the box. There’s no grace while you put everything away, you just need to clean up as fast as possible. While reaching for the gauze, you knock over the bottle of rubbing alcohol, “Shit, no I-I’m good. I’ll be out in a second!”

After hearing more clatter, Peter starts to worry, “Bug? Open the door.”

You’re overwhelmed, understandably, after everything that happened tonight along with the pressure to come outside, you break down in tears. “Peter, I swear I’m fine,” a broken sob escaping your shaking form, “I got it.”

“Please open the door, baby,” he pleads, in the softest voice imaginable. 

Finally giving in, you unlock the door and pull it open. The first thing Peter sees is the state you’re in. You’re hunched over on the floor on all fours, trying to clean up the mess you made. The makeup he watched you apply, is now smeared across your face as fat tears run down your cheeks. The second thing he notices is the bruise forming on your arm, a silent worry lost in his throat. He very slowly makes his way to you, not wanting to panic you any further, and gently lifts you from the floor, grabbing the supplies as well. Guiding you to sit on the bed, he places himself crouched in front of you, still in his suit. Not saying a word. 

Your breath is labored, and your shoulders are slumped. Not daring to make eye contact with him. Taking a look at your knees first, he grabs a cloth to start cleaning the angry raw skin. What scares you the most is that Peter is not speaking. Breaking the silence, you mumble, “I’m sorry.” 

Peter’s head snaps up to look at your face, still looking down at your hands, “Hey…What are you apologizing for?”

“You told me not to go out,” you take a wavering inhale, “and then I ignored you. Then this happened!” Your voice raises, and you’re getting upset with yourself. 

“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever happened tonight was not your fault. I only told you not to go because it’s way too cold outside to go out, bug. And never ever am I going to play the ‘I told you so game’ with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say, or even if you were able to say anything. What you knew was that you needed to be around Peter. Before another second passes, you lunge into Peter’s arms, wrapping your own around his neck. The sheer force of your hug would have sent both of you to the ground, but Peter balanced himself before you ever touched the ground. 

You both stay there for a while, eventually, Peter’s hand reaches up to rub up and down on your back, calming you into a relaxed state. “Can we go shower,” you ask, “I have that gross club smell on me.”

A relieved laugh leaves Peter, “Of course we can, smelly.”

You playfully hit his shoulder, as he lifts the both of you off the ground. As you make your way to the same bathroom you were crying in just a few minutes prior, you know that everything’s going to be alright, as long as Peter is by your side.  

You fell asleep that night to the warm comforter surrounding your figure, along with Peter’s heartbeat fluttering in your ears. The thoughts surrounding tonight could wait, at least until morning. 

--author's note: hi guys!! needed a little hurt/comfort because the weather is getting chilly, and it's getting darker outside:I...im currently working on the asks you guys have been sending me, and they're smutty as hell. you guys are horny asf, DAMN. don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! my asks/inobx is open, so send me anything!!! ok, bye ily<33.

#andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #fluff #spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #college au #tasm!peter parker #peter parker hurt/comfort #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm! peter parker x reader

[vhagarlovebot]

prompt: angsty/fighting.

8. maybe you should just leave now. tasm!peter x fem!reader.

you feel sad, stupid, and naive. how could you believe peter was going to keep his promise? for the past two months you’ve been in a relationship with a ghost, and you really don’t know when it all went to hell. at first you thought he was dealing with some personal stuff, and after trying to help him without success, you gave up. peter kept pushing you away, and deep down you knew nothing was going to change but you hold onto a little flame of hope.

today was going to be the last chance. and he knew it. he agreed, he told you a thousand times how important you are to him and how he could never live without you. apparently, those were just meaningless words.

you were in the restaurant waiting for two hours, getting pity stares from all the other customers.

and even though you know you should be crying and cursing him, you are tired. tired of waiting for him to love you back, because this is not love, what he’s doing can’t be.

you’re curled up in bed staring at the wall going through all the happy memories, those days where peter really seemed to enjoy your company. was it all a lie?

a sound coming from from the window makes you sit up, already looking for something to grab and defend yourself when you see a familiar face.

"peter? what are you doing on the fire escape?" you get up from the bed, keeping the distance, a suddenly urge to cry. He forces a smile, looking out the window for a few seconds. there's a lot of tension and whatever he is going to say, you want it to be quick. "are you going to say something?" then, he looks at you. his eyes are red and you fight the urge to touch him and ask what's wrong, but you know what's wrong.

"i was at the library and lost track of time, i'm sorry." he doesn't look sorry at all but you don't care. you don't believe a word coming out of his mouth.

"it's okay." you shrug, sitting on the edge of the bed. you can't look at him or you'll start crying, so a stain on the carpet has all your attention.

"are you sure?" peter asks, suspicious.

"no, it's not okay, peter!" you snap, finally looking at him. after all, this is going to be the last time you're going to see peter parker. "are you fucking kidding?"

"i'm saying that i'm sorry."

"but you don't mean it." he stands awkwardly in the middle of your room, avoiding your gaze. "are you going to tell me what's going on? what's been going on for the past two months?" you try to steady your breathing, you're not gonna let him see you cry.

"there's nothing going on. i've been busy with work and college, that's all." he's lying, you know he's lying. and your heart breaks into tiny little pieces.

"then, that's it." peter finally looks at you, frowning, fear on his eyes. "this is not working. we. are not working."

there is a beat, and then, "agreed." and you laugh. because everything's so fucked up. "i know i've no right to ask you this but..." he sighs, closing his eyes for a minute before talking again, before his brown eyes met yours. "i want you to be careful, to take care of yourself." you want to scream at him, he hasn't cared about you for months and now this? "i don't wanna know you got into trouble or something." in other words, he doesn't wanna be bothered by you.

"don't worry, you won't hear from me." you say, feeling your throat dry.

"that's for the best." his voice is rough, deeper tan usual.

you look behind him, not trusting yourself to look him in the eyes. "maybe you should just leave now." he opens his mouth and for a moment you think he's going to say something, but he shakes his head, dismissing it.

for the last time, you allow yourself to look at him, and he looks as broken as you.

a second later, he jumps out the window and you scream in fear, running and expecting to see him hurt, falling down, screaming. but you don't see him anywhere. all you see is a certain someone swinging away. and you let yourself wonder.

#spideymatcha writes #tasm #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter angst #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew!peter angst #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

#andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman #tasm andrew garfield #light angst #fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm fluff

[literaila]

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

there's this little thing called stress baking. 

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed. 

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients. 

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to. 

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention. 

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it. 

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions. 

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram. 

not that these brownies would agree. 

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good. 

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him. 

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard. 

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine. 

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight. 

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking. 

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault. 

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor. 

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird. 

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off. 

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned. 

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home." 

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home." 

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?" 

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home." 

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin. 

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back. 

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear. 

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up. 

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you. 

you turn back to the brownies. 

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive. 

"sure?" 

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes." 

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it." 

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet." 

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again.  you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question. 

what are you hiding? 

"we have some ice cream, too." 

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him. 

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge. 

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor. 

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending. 

"peter?" 

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you. 

he swallows. "yeah?" 

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright? 

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?" 

you raise a brow. 

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out." 

you nod. "okay." 

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close. 

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him. 

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.” 

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.” 

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small. 

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.” 

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin. 

* 

it's not that serious. honestly. 

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it. 

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck. 

you're not thinking about it at all. 

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine. 

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to. 

peter has obligations. 

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there. 

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks. 

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine. 

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine. 

but you miss him. if only momentarily. 

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does. 

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do. 

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day. 

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read). 

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world. 

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again. 

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back. 

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything. 

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store. 

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out. 

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation. 

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough. 

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there. 

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up. 

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again. 

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep. 

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else. 

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it. 

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here. 

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands. 

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up. 

it's for him to know all of this. 

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again. 

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window. 

you want him in more than just your memory. 

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

*

peter's not supposed to be home. 

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red. 

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room. 

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask. 

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"  

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled. 

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later. 

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded. 

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?" 

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry." 

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits. 

you bite your lip and look away. 

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks. 

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top. 

you can hear peter moving. 

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear. 

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp. 

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting. 

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--" 

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?" 

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me." 

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too." 

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it." 

"well, i'm going to." 

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man." 

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore." 

peter scowls. "stop deflecting." 

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back." 

*

and you are. 

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it. 

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole. 

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation. 

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that. 

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you. 

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had. 

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by. 

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely. 

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late. 

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him. 

you're trying not to frown back. 

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?" 

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone. 

"good." 

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room. 

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes. 

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home. 

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual. 

besides the facade you're putting on. 

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about." 

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?" 

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time." 

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie." 

you frown. "i'm not lying." 

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay." 

"i'm fine, peter." 

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know." 

"well, you do." 

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. 

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you. 

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him. 

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you." 

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have. 

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny. 

"what?" 

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world. 

"what?" peter repeats, but softer. 

you open your eyes. 

and then it all crumbles. 

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him. 

"like what?" 

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day. 

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting." 

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there. 

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--" 

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me." 

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?" 

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much." 

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left. 

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off. 

"you're not too much." 

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer. 

you couldn't push him away if you tried. 

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that." 

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too. 

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head. 

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper. 

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel." 

"that's all easy." 

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before. 

you shrug. 

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why." 

"it's the sex." 

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me." 

"no?" 

"absolutely not." 

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream. 

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck." 

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his. 

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks." 

"for me too. it's not your fault." 

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know." 

"okay." 

"do you promise?" 

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter." 

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much." 

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals. 

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

#peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter smut #tasm #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm x reader #tasm x you #andrew garfield #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew!peter smut #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield!peter parker imagine #spider-man #spider man #spider man x reader #spider man x you

[spiderfunkz]

hi! i’d love to know abt your fav headcanon(s) for tasm!peter and maybe a little oneshot of said headcanon(s)?

peter parker falls in love HARDDDDD!! i love him and his nerdy ass like aaaaghhhhhh. he's so cutesy and skrunkly i just wanna throw a rock at him 💕

peter parker is the type of person to go head over heels when he likes someone!! the type of person to steal a glance every time you're not looking. the type of person to secretly hope he'd get partnered up with you during class. the type of person to practice in front of the mirror before finally talking to you.

he's the type of person to notice every little thing about you. the pins on your bag of your favorite artists? he can name five songs. your favorite flowers? he walks past the flower shop every morning, hoping to buy you some one day. the way you always have that one mood ring on your finger, he finds it adorable.

he goes so flustered whenever you catch him glancing at you. his face turns all red and he starts giggling actually, your probably the reason he skips to school everyday, hands in pockets, twirling around in pure joy and excitement.

he'll brag to his friends on how he talked to you when in reality it was him saying happy birthday and you replying with a thank you along with a smile that surely gave him a cavity.

to summarize it up. peter parker doesn't just like someone. he loves them. pure admiration, adoration, infatuation, smitten. you're the light in his heart, the butterfly in a field of wildflowers, the red tulip in a field of white tulips.

peter has liked you for a while now.

it was a long day of classes, he could've just skipped but aunt may found out he was doing that too much and got pretty mad. besides, it's just one more class. a class he never really had to try in. should be easy right?

yes, but no.

you just switched classes to biology. sitting in the only empty chair, just two chairs away from peter. he saw you, and that's when he knew.

you were never late, unlike peter. every time he comes in you're already there, smiling awkwardly at the situation as mrs. moore lectured him. but what's the point? peter wasn't listening, he was too busy figuring out what emotion was on your mood ring, and spoiler alert! it was love.

it took him a lot of convincing and reassurance from gwen, but he finally got the courage to talk to you. not about how the weather is, or the same old "did you do the _ assignment yet?". he was going to ask you out on a totally friends-only, platonic date ( that goes so well it will end up with you and him holding hands! ).

"hi!" peter smiled, his hand playing with his hair. "hey, peter." he seemed nervous, you were too.

"um, so, i was wondering if you.. would.." he looked everywhere but your eyes, "..that if we could, maybe, um.. hangout? together? if you want to. obviously, you don't have to but um-"

"no yeah, i would love to peter!" you smiled. was it hot? it felt hot, your face felt hot, does peter notice? he probably does.

peter's heart was racing through a field, it was winning first place. "okay, good- great! i could um. pick you up? i'll text you. you have my number right? i could just um- you know..." he played with the hem of his jacket.

you nodded, "yeah i do." — "okay, we could meetup somewhere.. maybe the park? is that boring? the cinema? anything you'd like, i'm fine with anything you know. or we could just.. hang.."

you smile, "sure."

"really?"

"yeah definitely, either one. or we could do all of them, i've got nothing to do." — "okay, that's super! super- cool.. super cool. i'll text you, is that okay?"

you nodded, "of course."

"okay, i um- i'll go now. i should go now. i'll see you? later?" peter asks.

"yeah okay!" you wave happily as he walks backwards towards the exit, nearly bumping into 2, no, 3 now, students.

"text me!" you yell out.

peter nodded eagerly.

he walks out, knowing gwen is not gonna hear the end of this.

#tasm #tasm x you #tasm x reader #tasm fluff #tasm imagines #tasm imagine #tasm fanfiction #tasm spiderman #tasm angst #tasm peter #tasm andrew garfield #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker headcanon #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spider man #peter parker oneshot #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fluff

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Deja Vu: Chapter 3

Fandom: All Spiderverses

Ships: Parksborn(Webb), Peter 2/Peter 3,

Rating/Word Count/Status: Explicit, WIP

Tags: Angst fic, fill-in scenes for Andrew!Peter post TASM2 and during NWH, backstory chapters, hurt comfort, Sick!Harry, Goblin!Harry

TW: Mentions of suicide attempt, hospital scenes, needle mention,

Summary:

The quantum pull has Parker flying backward, up, left, and then down at speeds faster than the interstate average. The force pulling in the center of his gut like an umbilical cord is worse than it was the first time he Quantem Lept, and when he reaches up to touch his ears, he notices one of them is bleeding. Parker screams the entire way down. He knows he does because his throat aches and his lungs beg for oxygen, even if he can’t hear a sound. 

He’s lucky that of all the things to fall on in New York City he falls on grass, but still, thanks to the intense speed and force of gravity, it fucking hurts when he lands. He startles a flock of pigeons when he craters the earth, but thankfully, because of the location, there aren’t many human patrons to notice his explosion. Something cracks like its broken, but the adrenaline currently coursing through his veins has him standing without thinking twice. Another thing he notices, when he can keep his vision from spinning, is that Pete is nowhere to be seen. The suffocating, haunting knowledge that he was alone, trapped in his own pathetic universe again soaked through his skin like a chill in his bones, threatening to freeze them. Panic builds in the hollow of his throat.

The only other person who happens to be within eyeshot stares at him carefully, and Parker's sense starts to tingle once more. Potential Threat?

Parker takes a step forward anyway.  

“Hey uh, excuse me, what day is it?”

Now the ruddy-complected man’s glare is angry, defensive.

“Can't you just check your phone?” He growls. 

His attitude pisses Parker off, but he dug into his pocket either way, frowning before showing the asshole the shattered front of his dead cell phone.

“Can't you check yours?” 

The heated man scoffed, turning and flipping him the bird before shouting,

“December 4th, 2017 dickhead!” over his shoulder.

December 4th. Of 2017.

2017.  

Three years. 

Three. Fucking. Years. 

He had spent a grand total of 4 days in Peter 1’s universe, maybe a week, tops, but somehow, here, now, it’s 3 years later. Which meant Parker hasn't been in his Queens, for three years. He hasn't gone to work, paid his rent, checked on May, or seen Harry.

His gut tightened and all other thoughts halted in place at the memory of Harry. 

Harry, who he had already abandoned once to the horrible place just 200 feet to his right. 

And now, even after Parker swore he wouldn't, he did again. It didn't matter that this time it wasn't his fault. Because Harry would never give him the chance to explain that now. 

If he was even still alive… 

#sinful sunday #deja vu #parksborn #into the multiverse #tasm 2 #andrew!peter angst #andrew!peter parker #tobey!peter parker #peter 2/peter 3 #the amazing spiderman 2 #petercest #find me on ao3 #kofi support keeps me out of capitalisms clutches #links in bio #reblogs are free ways to support me! #i post new stuff every sunday