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Incandescent

Image credit: @mondlevan

Summary: A short poem with some thoughts during your evening date with Peter Parker.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Implied reference to death

A/N: A short poem that came to mind while musing about TASM!Peter Parker. The significance of time fascinates me, and I couldn't resist the adjacency of the tradition of stopping the clocks when someone passes away and how we refer to 'stopping time' so that we may savor moments while we live. But as Gwen Stacy said, 'what makes life valuable is that it doesn't last forever.'

If you enjoy, please REBLOG. Please do not repost on other platforms, etc.

Incandescent

The night is young and so are we. The onset of fragility.

For when the stars come out to play, our eyes will meet but cannot say:

Will you stay until dark's gone? Will you linger til the dawn?

So little time have you to give. Stop the clock, I want to live.

No more hours here and there. No more chimes disturb the air.

In the silence forget the past. Live for the now, make it last.

Close your eyes to skies above, close your eyes and cherish love.

Additional exhaustive A/N below:

Forgive me for I'm not a poet, not even a lit major, but wth right?

As mentioned above, time and our perception of it is fascinating. At least to me. So is the subject of communication, both verbal and nonverbal. The piece above explores a date with Peter Parker in which neither is comfortable speaking their fears.

Relationships are as fragile as life itself and we frequently approach each other tentatively, especially in the early stages. Even when young and (somewhat) inexperienced, our life experiences have already shaped us into who we are in that moment with more to come in the future. So the Reader is asking a question (what now?), one that Peter himself may be asking as well. Each expresses themselves nonverbally with their eyes. Stars and eyes are frequently paired with couples. They have stars in their eyes or star-crossed lovers for two examples. The poem's title comes from the very *definition of the word incandescent: emitting visible light as a result of being heated. The contrast between light and dark, stars and space, and warmth (living) and death (cold) has been explored countless times in the arts and I won't be the last to dabble with it here.

The Reader knows that Peter's time is limited for a variety of reasons (the conflict of his dual roles, obligations, danger, etc) but also because everyone has a finite amount of time from birth to death and we know not how long that will be (life is fragile from the start). Peter gives Reader what time he can but is it enough? Reader knows this and doesn't want the reminder--the constant ticking of the seconds, the chiming of the hour--that time is passing.

Some viewers of the TASM franchise may have found the time symbolism in the movies too obvious, but I thought that it didn't hurt (me, the viewer) to have a reminder. Slowing down time to cherish others may the best we can hope for in lieu of stopping time, but when we take that time and hold onto it, it becomes ours forever in the form of memories, memories that are frozen in time.

*American Heritage Dictionary (5th ed). There are several definitions of the word, incandescent, and I selected one.

#tasm #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker poetry #tasm fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker

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Thank you for the reblog and comment. It's going in a direction that I hope will keep readers wondering.

Independent Claws

Summary: You are lost in a cycle of avoidance caused by a painful past. Peter shepherds you towards a happier future.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader; written as mostly Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Alcoholism (mention), Hurt/Comfort, Language, Mature situations, etc, etc Minors DNI

*Reblogs, reblogs, reblogs, and likes are great. Please do not post, copy or transfer to other sites on social media or use with AI.*

Chapter One: Tense

Your skin appears orange under the glow of the street lamps as you chain the rusty bicycle to the fence railing and tread softly down the street. A mental image of black gloves, left sitting on a desk back home, taunts the only part of you uncovered. "Idiot," you mutter to yourself, looking down at your hands, balling them into fists. It isn't the weather for which the gloves are necessary, although your breath frosts in the night air. You need stealth. But at least the navy blue hoodie, t-shirt, and pants are dark so you keep on walking, head down, going over your plan in your mind. Going over it and over it as you had done ever since this afternoon when the devil of opportunity presented himself and then your stupid angel conscience sent by your late mother decided to make an appearance to even the score.

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

You had been watching and crushing on Peter Parker since forever, and he often wore sweaters and hoodies back in high school, but over the last few years he seemed to grow warm so quickly and shed them as if he radiated thermal energy beyond what was normal. On the first day when he made eye contact, you'd given him a shy nod of recognition in the college class you shared, surprised he had even remembered the green-eyed classmate from long ago who hugged the walls and lockers always looking for a place to hide, to avoid interaction.

As the semester continued, you tried desperately to remain inconspicuous, unapproachable, but still watching him, wide eyed like a cat in the darkness under a bed. Peering up through your fingers while taking notes in class as he pulled a sweater over his head, watching his thick brown hair go awry and stand up as if he was touching a Van de Graaf Generator at the science museum. Yeah, it shocked you too because sometimes his t-shirt would ride up higher and made your own neck hairs stand up as straight as his hair. But the hoodies, Peter wore those hoodies the most often. They looked so soft, so touchable and when you heard the faint but crisp ziiiiip as he ran his hand down the front and shook his arms out of the sleeves it always made your head turn. Not too fast though. You had learned to be careful. Once, hearing the familiar sound you flicked your eyes up when he removed his navy blue hoodie, which happened to be your personal favorite hoodie, and caught his brown eyes staring straight at you. That was when you dropped your pen just so you could duck to the tile floor, missing his smirk and lifted eyebrow as he shrugged the hoodie over the back of his chair.

The disrobing, as you mentally termed it, became a regular habit and made worse by the quieter nature of the calculus course compared to the mayhem of high school. No class clowns making noise, no troublemakers. Just students watching the professor while taking notes, and you, despite the mental scolding you gave yourself, watching Peter. Any notes you took on him were seared to the back of your eyelids. You rarely spotted him outside of class, even though you had grown up not too far away from his street and you tried very hard not to see him outside of class anyway. What point was there to extend your martyrdom outside of the hour you spent within four walls? You were more than a little ashamed of yourself already. The devil on your shoulder often smiled and said just a little more time when you gazed at Peter's left ear and the brown hair that curled temptingly around it; but the angel on your right gave you that sad somber look that made it clear Peter Parker wasn't for the likes of you. Not when he had been in love with Gwen, who was an angel on earth and now an angel in heaven, and not now, with your feral attitude and your heart hardened against anyone who might try and lure you to comfort and safety. That was what that hoodie symbolized if you'd bothered to analyze it. Maybe you were aware of that in some remote way, but it was like the craft store heart-shaped cardboard box you had painted for your mother when you were a child. You kept those thoughts hidden away in a part of you that hurt too much to look at. Just like that paper scrap and photo filled box, the only thing you’d kept of your mom after she passed away. You couldn't touch either where you'd hidden them; you couldn't look at them, it kept everything remote and cold and manageable.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it was your mother sending an angel friend that placed the opportunity before you, although you scarcely believed in heaven, not anymore. Or maybe there was some cosmic electric charge that rearranged and short circuited Peter's brain so that he left the hoodie, the navy blue one, resting on the back of his chair when the class ended. You didn't notice at first, you were staring at the back of his head as he walked toward the door along with everyone else, while you were busy memorizing the muscles that ran across his shoulders. Shoulders and biceps that you just then realized you could see as his short t-shirt sleeves pulled tight across them. But most likely it was that wild devil that forced your eyes to cut to Peter's vacated chair and there was the hoodie, forgotten. A quick glance to the door of the classroom revealed he had disappeared.

Without a word, you snatched the hoodie to your chest and left quickly, searching around the building exit for Peter but with no sign of him, the choice was made with no regret. You scurried silently down the hallway and went straight into the restroom where you stuffed the hoodie into your backpack. Five minutes later you were on your bicycle pedaling home with a hoodie, a backpack, and a devil of a grin on your face.

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

Home is where you should be right now, not in the shadows creeping down an alley by Peter Parker's house in an attempt to do the right thing. After sitting in your upstairs room while your dad was somewhere out drinking himself into a bitter and vengeful stupor, you had lost the battle with your conscience. Your dad's worldview had always been finders keep, losers weep. Even if he was never around any more now than he was when your mom got sick, somehow he hadn't been quite able to make his the world owes you something kid type of logic stick with you either, another disappointment that he never failed to point out.

No matter how you tried to justify it, no matter how much you wanted just some thing to hold, to wrap around you, never mind some one, you could not keep what was never yours. Stupid old hoodie you told yourself as you put your arms on your knees and breathed in the essence of Peter in the soft fabric. That scent almost broke you... almost. It felt like what home could be when there were warm hearts and hands that comfort each other. When tired eyes were allowed to close because there was no need for a wild-eyed wakefulness that danger downstairs had crossed the threshold drunk and delirious. That thought, the thought of a different disappointment, that the example of how to do the right thing had been forgotten was why you were tiptoeing past a run down garage to reach an old beat up car so that you could return Peter's hoodie. It may have been a stupid plan by someone who couldn't seem to muster the courage just to hand it to Peter the next time class met, but then again it was academic not emotional intelligence that was supposed to be your asset anyway. Your intelligence being the academic asset that was to get you a degree and take you far away from the warm memories and cold reality. Far away from watching what the one you could never have. At least that is what you told yourself as you stopped at Aunt May's car. You had only met her a few times, crossing paths at the store, picking up medicine for your mother. May had asked after her and your look of surprise at her knowledge didn't go unnoticed but her eyes were soft and kind, not unlike Peter's.

The lights were on in their house; maybe in the kitchen and an upstairs bedroom. You were confident from years of climbing up and down stairs silently in your own home that none of the neighbors had heard you in the alley, and perhaps that made you careless. The plan was to leave the hoodie in Aunt May's car, a place where anyone might forget a hoodie. Since the car was an older model it probably didn't have an alarm, at least you hoped it didn't. You also hoped it wasn't locked, but that hadn't occurred to you until just now. Too late. You stood there for a minute, just a minute; the brief thrill of having the coveted hoodie and its symbolic aura now fading as you pulled back the hood and tugged the zipper down, not thinking about the ziiiiip.

One last soothing stroke of the soft fabric and the hoodie was in your hand, ready to toss in the front seat. One tug on the driver's side handle and whew, it wasn't locked when...

"In the future, if you're going to steal cars, you really shouldn't dress like a car thief."

Out of the shadows stepped Spider-Man.

Shit. You are in trouble.

To be continued...

A/N: Please let me know if I left off any warnings you think would better serve readers.

#tasm #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm fanfiction #spider-man #tasm!peter

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Independent Claws

Summary: You are lost in a cycle of avoidance caused by a painful past. Peter shepherds you towards a happier future.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader; written as mostly Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Alcoholism (mention), Hurt/Comfort, Language, Mature situations, etc, etc Minors DNI

*Reblogs, reblogs, reblogs, and likes are great. Please do not post, copy or transfer to other sites on social media or use with AI.*

Chapter One: Tense

Your skin appears orange under the glow of the street lamps as you chain the rusty bicycle to the fence railing and tread softly down the street. A mental image of black gloves, left sitting on a desk back home, taunts the only part of you uncovered. "Idiot," you mutter to yourself, looking down at your hands, balling them into fists. It isn't the weather for which the gloves are necessary, although your breath frosts in the night air. You need stealth. But at least the navy blue hoodie, t-shirt, and pants are dark so you keep on walking, head down, going over your plan in your mind. Going over it and over it as you had done ever since this afternoon when the devil of opportunity presented himself and then your stupid angel conscience sent by your late mother decided to make an appearance to even the score.

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

You had been watching and crushing on Peter Parker since forever, and he often wore sweaters and hoodies back in high school, but over the last few years he seemed to grow warm so quickly and shed them as if he radiated thermal energy beyond what was normal. On the first day when he made eye contact, you'd given him a shy nod of recognition in the college class you shared, surprised he had even remembered the green-eyed classmate from long ago who hugged the walls and lockers always looking for a place to hide, to avoid interaction.

As the semester continued, you tried desperately to remain inconspicuous, unapproachable, but still watching him, wide eyed like a cat in the darkness under a bed. Peering up through your fingers while taking notes in class as he pulled a sweater over his head, watching his thick brown hair go awry and stand up as if he was touching a Van de Graaf Generator at the science museum. Yeah, it shocked you too because sometimes his t-shirt would ride up higher and made your own neck hairs stand up as straight as his hair. But the hoodies, Peter wore those hoodies the most often. They looked so soft, so touchable and when you heard the faint but crisp ziiiiip as he ran his hand down the front and shook his arms out of the sleeves it always made your head turn. Not too fast though. You had learned to be careful. Once, hearing the familiar sound you flicked your eyes up when he removed his navy blue hoodie, which happened to be your personal favorite hoodie, and caught his brown eyes staring straight at you. That was when you dropped your pen just so you could duck to the tile floor, missing his smirk and lifted eyebrow as he shrugged the hoodie over the back of his chair.

The disrobing, as you mentally termed it, became a regular habit and made worse by the quieter nature of the calculus course compared to the mayhem of high school. No class clowns making noise, no troublemakers. Just students watching the professor while taking notes, and you, despite the mental scolding you gave yourself, watching Peter. Any notes you took on him were seared to the back of your eyelids. You rarely spotted him outside of class, even though you had grown up not too far away from his street and you tried very hard not to see him outside of class anyway. What point was there to extend your martyrdom outside of the hour you spent within four walls? You were more than a little ashamed of yourself already. The devil on your shoulder often smiled and said just a little more time when you gazed at Peter's left ear and the brown hair that curled temptingly around it; but the angel on your right gave you that sad somber look that made it clear Peter Parker wasn't for the likes of you. Not when he had been in love with Gwen, who was an angel on earth and now an angel in heaven, and not now, with your feral attitude and your heart hardened against anyone who might try and lure you to comfort and safety. That was what that hoodie symbolized if you'd bothered to analyze it. Maybe you were aware of that in some remote way, but it was like the craft store heart-shaped cardboard box you had painted for your mother when you were a child. You kept those thoughts hidden away in a part of you that hurt too much to look at. Just like that paper scrap and photo filled box, the only thing you’d kept of your mom after she passed away. You couldn't touch either where you'd hidden them; you couldn't look at them, it kept everything remote and cold and manageable.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it was your mother sending an angel friend that placed the opportunity before you, although you scarcely believed in heaven, not anymore. Or maybe there was some cosmic electric charge that rearranged and short circuited Peter's brain so that he left the hoodie, the navy blue one, resting on the back of his chair when the class ended. You didn't notice at first, you were staring at the back of his head as he walked toward the door along with everyone else, while you were busy memorizing the muscles that ran across his shoulders. Shoulders and biceps that you just then realized you could see as his short t-shirt sleeves pulled tight across them. But most likely it was that wild devil that forced your eyes to cut to Peter's vacated chair and there was the hoodie, forgotten. A quick glance to the door of the classroom revealed he had disappeared.

Without a word, you snatched the hoodie to your chest and left quickly, searching around the building exit for Peter but with no sign of him, the choice was made with no regret. You scurried silently down the hallway and went straight into the restroom where you stuffed the hoodie into your backpack. Five minutes later you were on your bicycle pedaling home with a hoodie, a backpack, and a devil of a grin on your face.

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

Home is where you should be right now, not in the shadows creeping down an alley by Peter Parker's house in an attempt to do the right thing. After sitting in your upstairs room while your dad was somewhere out drinking himself into a bitter and vengeful stupor, you had lost the battle with your conscience. Your dad's worldview had always been finders keep, losers weep. Even if he was never around any more now than he was when your mom got sick, somehow he hadn't been quite able to make his the world owes you something kid type of logic stick with you either, another disappointment that he never failed to point out.

No matter how you tried to justify it, no matter how much you wanted just some thing to hold, to wrap around you, never mind some one, you could not keep what was never yours. Stupid old hoodie you told yourself as you put your arms on your knees and breathed in the essence of Peter in the soft fabric. That scent almost broke you... almost. It felt like what home could be when there were warm hearts and hands that comfort each other. When tired eyes were allowed to close because there was no need for a wild-eyed wakefulness that danger downstairs had crossed the threshold drunk and delirious. That thought, the thought of a different disappointment, that the example of how to do the right thing had been forgotten was why you were tiptoeing past a run down garage to reach an old beat up car so that you could return Peter's hoodie. It may have been a stupid plan by someone who couldn't seem to muster the courage just to hand it to Peter the next time class met, but then again it was academic not emotional intelligence that was supposed to be your asset anyway. Your intelligence being the academic asset that was to get you a degree and take you far away from the warm memories and cold reality. Far away from watching what the one you could never have. At least that is what you told yourself as you stopped at Aunt May's car. You had only met her a few times, crossing paths at the store, picking up medicine for your mother. May had asked after her and your look of surprise at her knowledge didn't go unnoticed but her eyes were soft and kind, not unlike Peter's.

The lights were on in their house; maybe in the kitchen and an upstairs bedroom. You were confident from years of climbing up and down stairs silently in your own home that none of the neighbors had heard you in the alley, and perhaps that made you careless. The plan was to leave the hoodie in Aunt May's car, a place where anyone might forget a hoodie. Since the car was an older model it probably didn't have an alarm, at least you hoped it didn't. You also hoped it wasn't locked, but that hadn't occurred to you until just now. Too late. You stood there for a minute, just a minute; the brief thrill of having the coveted hoodie and its symbolic aura now fading as you pulled back the hood and tugged the zipper down, not thinking about the ziiiiip.

One last soothing stroke of the soft fabric and the hoodie was in your hand, ready to toss in the front seat. One tug on the driver's side handle and whew, it wasn't locked when...

"In the future, if you're going to steal cars, you really shouldn't dress like a car thief."

Out of the shadows stepped Spider-Man.

Shit. You are in trouble.

To be continued...

A/N: Please let me know if I left off any warnings you think would better serve readers.

#tasm #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm fanfiction #spider-man #tasm!peter #Peter parker fem!reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #Independent Claws

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Conversations with Peter Parker

Kitchen Conversations (conclusion)

**Rating: Mature/Warning (innuendo) Pure fluffy fluff**

Reblogs and likes are great; please do not repost elsewhere/deposit in AI software.

You: Peter, you never answered my question.

Peter: The answer is five. I counted three this morning and before dinner you ca--

You: Peter! I know exactly how many times I...nevermind...stop distracting me! Those big brown eyes making me...

Peter: Whaaaat?

You: My question, Peter. What were you talking about with the granola box this morning? About the missing ingredient?

Peter: Oh that... you've heard of the concept of umami? The taste of glutamates and the sensation of savory in cooking?

You: Yes, I'm familiar with it...wh-what are you doing?

Peter: There was a little bit of sauce on your cheek, just making sure you didn't spill more anywhere else....aww, you're blushing again.

You: Peter? Umami?

Peter: Oh, yeah, right...so I think about you all the time. About us all the time. H-how you make me feel, how I miss you when you're away. You make me want to savor what we share, to enjoy the delicious memories we make together, and this morning at breakfast was when I realized--

You: [interrupting, emotional] Peter, that's the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Peter: The missing ingredient? It’s Youmami. You make everything better.

You: I love you so much, Peter...and you do know that those words aren't pronounced the same?

Peter: While I'm nibbling on your ear that is what you're thinking about?

You: No, actually....I'm thinking...seven.

Peter: Seven is a wonderful number. I'm feeling pretty hungry right now.

You: Me, too....

Peter: Mmmm. So tasty.

END

#tasm #Conversations With Peter Parker #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #tasm fanfiction #spider-man #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter #MCU #marvel mcu #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter fanfiction

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Kitchen Conversations (continued, page 3)

**Rating: Mature/Warning (Innuendo) Pure fluffy fluff.**

Reblogs and likes are great; please do not repost elsewhere/deposit in AI software.

Peter: Can I help with anything for dinner? I'm pretty handy you know.

You: Handsy you mean.

Peter: Well, when you put it like that...don't mind if I do...

You: You realize you're talking to someone holding a knife right now?

Peter: My weakness isn’t really small knives. My weakness is you.

You: Peter, you're going to make me cry.

Peter: It's probably the onion you're chopping.

You: With a sharp knife, which is why your hands shouldn't be under my t-shir--

Peter: [smirking]

You: I guess you could say I have my own weak...[moans]...weaknesses.

Peter: Yeah? What about this one right here?

You: Shut up and kiss me.

(...to be continued...)

#tasm #Conversations With Peter Parker #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm fanfiction #spider-man #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter #MCU #marvel mcu #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fic

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Kitchen Conversations (continued, page 2)

**Rating: Mature/Warning (innuendo) Pure fluffy fluff**

Reblogs and likes are great; please do not repost elsewhere/deposit in AI software.

You: Peter.

Peter: Hmmmmm?

You: I don't get it.

Peter: Seems to me like you just got some.

You: [roll eyes] Peter.

Peter: You can thank me for catching that salt shaker you knocked off the table while we were...I mean that would've been a lot of bad luck...

You: [silence]

Peter: Always adorable when you blush.

You: Thank you for catching the salt shaker, Peter. I was...

Peter: I know...I know.

You: The missing ingredient you were talking about before you...before we...Peter Parker stop looking at me like that!

Peter: What? You were saying?

You: Missing ingredient; was that some Kung Fu Panda bit?

Peter: It wasn't a Kung Fu Panda bit, 'cause that would be a 'secret ingredient.' It's no secret that I love you; cause I love you.

You: I love you too, Peter.

Peter: I hate to...um...kiss and you know...and run but I'm gonna be late for work.

You: Peter wait! We didn't finish--

Peter: You sure about that? Love you! Bye!

You: Peter!!!!

(...to be continued...)

#tasm #tasm!peter #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #Conversations With Peter Parker #tasm fanfiction #amazing spider-man #spider-man #MCU #marvel mcu #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fic #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x you

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Kitchen Conversations

**Rating: Mature/Warning (innuendo) Pure fluffy fluff**

Reblogs and likes are great; please do not repost elsewhere/deposit in AI software.

You: Peter, is something the matter? You've been staring at that box of granola in your hand for five minutes.

Peter: I'm reading the list of ingredients.

You: It's granola; how complicated can it be?

Peter: I don't know, but I don't see it listed so it must not be in here.

You: ????

Peter: I sit across from you every morning watching you eat a bowl of granola for breakfast and every morning you get prettier and prettier.

You: That's so sweet, Peter.

Peter: Are you blushing?

You: No!

Peter: I believe I'll have to test my hypothesis.

...to be continued....

#tasm #peter parker #TASM fanfiction #tasm!peter #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #amazing spider-man #Conversations With Peter Parker #peter parker fanfiction #spider man #MCU #marvel mcu #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fic

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Laundry Room Conversations (Conclusion)

**Rating: Mature/Warning: Innuendo**

Reblogs and likes are great; please do not repost elsewhere/deposit in AI software.

You: I don't think I can walk; my legs are still weak.

Peter: I got you, I got you. I'll carry you. That last load was...I mean that last loud one was so...

You (interrupting): Peter Parker! You make one more steamy laundry—[kissing]…and…and...

Peter: And what? I was talking about how hot that last...I mean...I mean how...how about I take you…um…lingerie shopping?

You: That sounds perfect Peter. Same time next week?

Beginning Conversation II Continuing Conversation

#tasm #peter parker #amazing spider-man #tasm fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #Conversations with Peter Parker #andrew!peter parker x reader #Peter parker fanfiction

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Laundry Room Conversations (continued)

**Rating: Mature/Warning: Innuendo**

Reblogs and likes are great; please do not repost elsewhere/deposit in AI software.

Peter: Hey, um, this washer is out-of-balance 'cause I put the quilt in there with the towels.

You: Peter, all you need to do is open the lid and readjust the load, it'll be fine.

Peter: That won't work.

You: Sure it will.

Peter: Nope. There's a new laundry sheriff in town and I say you need to come here and sit on the machine. I'll hold on to you to make sure I can...that you...you don't fall off.

You: I think I see where you're going with this.

...to be continued...

Beginning II Conclusion

#TASM #Peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #amazing spider-man #Conversations with Peter Parker #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter parker

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Laundry Room Conversations

**Rating: Mature/Warning: Innuendo**

You: Peter? Peter?

Peter: (distractedly) Yeah?

You: This isn't working.

Peter: What? I can do this, really. I separated everything by lights and darks. I'll even put my suit in separately!

You: That is not what I mean. This isn't working.

Peter: The washer? It seems fine to me.

You: Not the machine, Peter. You. Me. Last night....

Peter: Y-you mean....

You: Look, Peter. I just went searching through the entire basket of laundry. I mean you cannot keep tearing my panties into pieces every night, I have no underwear left. None.

Peter: You mean my plan is wor--I mean, that is such a shame, such a shame.

...to be continued...

Continued II Conclusion

#TASM #peter parker #spider-man #amazing spider-man #peter parker fanfiction #Conversations with Peter Parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #Those eyes are soooo innocent-NOT! #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter #peterparker

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I get it, I get it. Two of the three Peters have to make their own webbing, and I can't recall how much of a energy drain it is for the other Peter's body to manufacture it. But can we just talk about how lazy I am and how I would so abuse that ability to grab things without having to walk over and pick them up? Oh sure, swinging looks amazing and with great power comes great responsibility, but the temptation would be unreal.

#spider-man #tasm

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Conversations With Peter Parker

Peter: Penny for your thoughts, Gwen?

Gwen: Pretty sure you don't have a penny, Peter.

Peter: What about a kiss for your thoughts then? I've been told I'm not a bad kisser.

Gwen: Okay, but I foresee a problem there.

Peter: ????

Gwen: Once you kiss me I can't think of anything but you.

Peter: And that is a problem how?

#TASM #peter parker #amazing spider man #andrew garfield #emma stone #gwen stacy #TASM fanfiction #Conversations with Peter Parker

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Liked it so much I reblogged it twice, LOL

The Amazing Spider-Man evolution.

(from Pinterest)

#spider man #andrew garfield #tasm

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The Amazing Spider-Man evolution.

(from Pinterest)

[backupanddoitagain]

I think it's a plot; I'm going to need a stronger microscope.

#TASM #TASM!Peter Parker #amazing spider-man #andrew garfield #peter parker #TASM fanfiction

[backupanddoitagain]

image credit @bevongf

Masterlist

Started: 6/4/23

Updated: 9/23/23

REBLOGS and likes are wonderful and amazing and I am thankful for them. Please do not repost these works on other social media sites, or with AI tech.

Warning: Works are for adult readers due to mature content in some pieces. As of right now, no smut in any links, but minors should not engage regardless.

Works Below The Cut:

The Amazing Spider-Man 1 & 2

Peter Parker

One Shot:

Surface Tension (angst)

Conversations With Peter Parker

*Conversations are short works (maybe more or less than 100 words) that explore the side of Peter Parker that is glimpsed in small bits of cheeky quips and smirks. (You sure about that?) Why yes, Peter, I am sure.*

The Price For A Thought

Laundry Room Conversations

Laundry Room Conversations (continued)

Laundry Room Conversations (conclusion)

Kitchen Conversations

Kitchen Conversations (continued, page 2)

Kitchen Conversations (continued, page 3)

Kitchen Conversations (conclusion)

Series/Multi-Chapter

Independent Claws: (angst/hurt/comfort)

Chapter 1 : Tense

Chapter 2: A/N: It's coming along but slowly

Songs

Make Me Scream (written for a mutual)

Poems

Incandescent

#TASM #Tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter #Peter Parker #Peter Parker fanfiction #amazing spider-man #Peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker #spider-man #peter parker angst #peter parker fic