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biblio-smia · 4 months

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shy shy shy

a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship

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nerdy peter lovers rise

They were just glasses.

On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.

Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.

Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.

Metal frames, thick lenses.

Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?

Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.

He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.

Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.

Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.

Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.

Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.

It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.

"You wear glasses?"

Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.

"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.

You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.

You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.

Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.

"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.

"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.

You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.

"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.

"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.

"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."

"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.

"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.

"Pete?"

"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.

"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.

You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.

You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.

But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.

Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.

You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.

"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.

Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.

"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.

"Tell me about it."

"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.

"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."

Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.

"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.

"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.

"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.

Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."

"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.

Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.

"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."

"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.

"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."

"I didn't know you were into that."

Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.

"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.

"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?

Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.

"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew peter parker #v + peter #v writes

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flightlessangelwings · 6 months

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Ktober 2023 Day 25- Mirror Sex

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, voyeurism, lot of praise, aftercare, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- Oh this was was so fun to write!! And it's another personal favorite of the month as well so I hope y'all like it too!! And I purposefully made it a gn reader too! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice echoed in your ear.

You sat in front of him, your legs parted as he knelt behind you, fucking into you slowly. Peter’s strong grip kept you upright, and you leaned back to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace. As your mouth dropped open from how good he felt rocking into you from this angle, your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the pleasure that was Peter’s touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you reluctantly blinked your eyes open, but you gasped when you focused and noticed what he wanted you to see. You weren’t sure when he set it up, but a full length mirror sat at the end of the bed, and it framed where the two of you were perfectly. Even in the low light of the room, you saw both your figures clearly.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he thrust into you once, “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You moaned loudly and closed your eyes once more.

“Uh-uh,” Peter gently grabbed your chin and forced you to keep your line of sight on the mirror, “I want you to watch.”

“Peter…” you whined as you blinked your eyes open again. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t move again until you did.

“See?” his tone was low as he kissed the side of your face, “Look how beautiful you are.”

You gasped when he thrust into you once, but harder this time. Your body almost jolted forward if it weren’t for Peter’s strong grip keeping you in place. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, you knew he would stop if you did. So, you kept them open and trained on his face as he watched you in the mirror.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Peter murmured as he rocked into you at a slow and steady pace.

Skin slapped against skin as both of you locked eyes in the mirror. From that though, you saw the fire that burned within his eyes with every thrust of his hips, and you felt the low mumble from deep in his chest against your back. You saw how his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and it only made him more beautiful to you. And then your eyes trailed down both your figures.

Between your legs, you could make out the distinct shape of his cock whenever he pulled out from you. And then it disappeared inside you when he thrust forward again, burying it deep inside you. The added visual made you moan louder as you clung to Peter’s arms.

He gritted his teeth as he felt you clench around him, and then Peter’s eyes followed yours. He watched for a few moments as his cock appeared and then disappeared with his thrusts. Then, he made a low, deep sound you had never heard from him ever before. And it sent a pulse of need right to your core.

“Fuck,” Peter breathed, “Look at us,” he thrust once more, “Look how you fit me so perfectly,” he thrust again, filling you to the brim.

“Yes,” you murmured as your eyes glazed over, “Peter.”

“Look how beautiful you look like this,” he caressed your chin where he still held you while his other arm stayed around your body to pin you against him, “Look how well you take my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a chill ran up your spine from Peter’s words.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed.

You dug your nails into his skin, “Peter… Yes…” you moaned, “So good, Pete… I…”

“What is it?” he trailed a line of hot, sweet kisses along your skin, “Tell me,” he said as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered, “And I love watching you fuck me like this.”

“That’s it,” he turned your chin to kiss your lips for a moment, pausing with his cock fully inside you to taste you before he turned you back to the mirror, “I want you to see what I see when I fuck you,” his tone dropped impossibly low, “I want you to fall apart and watch yourself in the mirror.”

“Oh shit,” you cried out as he suddenly picking up his pace, pounding into you with fervor, “Fuck! Peter! Yes!”

“That’s it,” he purred again as he grunted, holding back his own climax.

The look on Peter’s face when his jaw clenched made you let out the most obscene sound and you felt your body heat up and your skin tingle, “Fuck, Peter… You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Cum for me.”

“Peter!” you screamed his name as you fought to keep your eyes open as your climax hit. You trembled in his grasp as you came hard, your mouth dropping open to let out all the sounds that Peter loved to hear.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he watched your every expression in the mirror. He saved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, but from the way you looked so delectable in the mirror, he didn’t last long.

With a low groan of his own and your name on his lips, Peter came just as hard, His movements stuttered as he lost control as came deep inside you, filling you up. He too had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the show the two of you put on for yourselves. Peter savored the gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, and both of you exhaled sharply when you watched it drip down your legs.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt both your releases slide down your skin, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to anyway, content in Peter’s strong grip. For a moment, neither of you could budge, both too entranced in the other’s eyes in the mirror. You still stayed connected together, and at the same time, your eyes both fell to that connection.

“That was so hot,” you breathed in awe.

Peter grinned widely and kissed your neck, “I told you to trust me,” he murmured in your ear, his eyes ever leaving yours.

“I do trust you, Pete,” you whispered as you broke the connection to turn and kiss him deeply, tasting him once more, “And I love you.”

He smiled against you, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose before he pulled away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

“You always take such good care of me, Peter,” you sighed contently before you let out a gasp as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you,

Peter shot you and apologetic look in the mirror before he gathered you in his arms again, collapsing both of you down onto the bed, “I always will, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I always will.”

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californ1asnow · 10 months

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How You Get the Girl

Tasm! Peter Parker x Reader

Also posted on my ao3

"Tell her you must of lost your mind when you left her all alone and never told her why that's how you lost the girl"

The first time you met Peter Parker, you swore him off because you knew he'd be trouble.

It was the summer before your first year of college. You worked hard every day to save enough money to get through school. You promised yourself there would be no distractions this summer, just work. You didn't need to be distracted by other things before college started.

But that was before this tall, doe-eyed boy just happened to find his way to your place of work. His eyes glimmered full of mischief the moment his gaze met yours. Your promise of no distractions went out the window from that point on.

When he first approached you, he had tried (and failed) to get your number. He pleaded silently, with that kicked puppy look on his face after your rejection. You almost broke down in that moment, but you were holding on by a thread to the vow you made. So, the boy left with a crestfallen sigh, and you let your shoulders drop, relieved.

That was until a week later. He showed up with a bouquet of sad-looking flowers. He had promised you that they would have looked nicer when he bought them, but they had been crushed in his backpack on the way over. You stared at the pitiful flowers, and Peter held his breath, waiting to see how'd you react. The inside of your cheek stung as you bit down on it. Trying to keep your composer, you scribbled down a few words on an extra sheet of paper. You quickly handed it to him, and he let out a breathy laugh as he read it. The sound was enough to make your heart flutter in your chest.

Before he could cause any more trouble, you quickly shooed him away. With the same crumpled flowers and the paper, you hastily handed him, he left the shop. He had a piece of paper with your number on it, and a few sentences scrawled in hurried writing about how he had to work on his flower transporting abilities. So that maybe the next time you saw him, you would actually agree to go out with him.

Months had passed since that day. Slowly but surely, you began to ask for fewer hours at work. Which meant you had more free time. Aka, more time to spend with Peter.

That damn Peter Parker, with his fluffy hair and stupidly cute, crooked smile, it was all too much. Too often for your liking, thoughts of him invaded your mind.

You had been practically spending every minute of your free time with him. Whether it was late night movies or early morning coffee, it was all coupled with the boy who could make your heart race just by looking at him.

So, you took him in without question when he showed up at your apartment one night, battered and bruised.

Your hands, even if they were a little shaky, worked diligently to clean up his wounds. You had never seen him like this before, although you had noticed Peter showing up with a split lip or an old bruise from time to time.

As you held his face in your palms, a million questions raced through your mind, words on the tip of your tongue. You saw the silent pleading in his eyes, begging you not to ask the questions, so your lips remained sealed. The words died in the back of your throat. You ran your thumb gently over the bloody edge of his lip. His calloused fingers cupped your wrist, stopping your actions in their tracks.

He leaned in close, his forehead pressed against yours. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Your eyelids fluttered shut. You drew in a breath, preparing yourself for his lips to meet yours.

But it never came.

Instead, he pulled away, muttering a quick apology that he had to leave before you got dragged into his own problems. Your mind barely registered the lack of his presence. It wasn't until you heard the front door close, signaling that he was gone.

Without a single good explanation as to why, he had left you alone.

—

The next morning you woke up. A crushing realization of what had happened last night hit you immediately.

At first you were angry.

You went to work and clocked in without saying hello to anyone at all. It would stay that way for the next eight hours or so. A silent rage would fill the hole that Peter had managed to dig in your heart.

You were a bitter mess.

It was easier for the customers to get on your nerves, and you cursed everyone who ever crossed your path. It took every bit of strength you had not to send several angry texts to Peter.

It stayed that way for a couple of days, until you decided to turn your anger on yourself. You felt so stupid that you had allowed yourself to get caught up in the antics of Peter. It was clear to you from the beginning that your focus should be on nothing but your summer job.

Peter had wormed his way into your heart, found a place where he felt comfortable and made himself at home there.

You slowly let yourself off the hook after a few months passed without any contract from either side. Your anger diminished exponentially. Your thoughts drifted less and less to the image of Peter. Eventually, your heart would stop racing after you passed a flower stand or a person who just happened to look a little too much like him.

One night, as you walked home from work, you let your mind wander. The painful sting of his memories wasn't so bad. And you knew that, at that very moment, you were feeling pretty good about your life again.

Then you stepped too close to the road and heard a car horn honking all around you. Your first thought being, "God, please don't let this be the way I die."

Your body tensed as the car approached at a rapid pace. So close that the lights blinded your vision, and you didn't have time to prepare for the arm that would hastily wrap around your waist. A breath was caught in your throat as the wind whipped through your hair, and your arms clung tightly to the masked figure of your savior.

"Why weren't you paying attention?" Were the first words out of his mouth as he set you down, "That car could have hit you and you could have died!"

Though grateful for your rescue, you didn't appreciate the tone he took with you.

You pried yourself out of his arms and smoothed the sleeves of your jacket. Angrily, you turned to him, your annoyance biting into your words, "look, I've had it with everyone and everything these past few months. I just got back on my feet again, I have no need for a lecture from you."

Silence fell between the two of you, and you saw yourself standing alone in the reflection of the whites of his mask. He choked for a second, seemingly at odds with what he wanted to say.

In a moment of regret, you realized that you had just yelled at the one person who had been able to save you from an untimely demise. Ashamed, you nervously licked your lips before muttering, "thank you, by the way."

The red mask prevented you from seeing the look on his face. But by the way his shoulders relaxed, you knew he wasn't upset. He ran a hand over his mask and let out a small, breathy laugh.

The sound of it made your heart stop and sent pins and needles shooting up the back of your neck. You could recognize that laugh anywhere. He seemed to notice that you also recognized him, and before you could say another word, he was gone.

You stood there mindlessly replaying the sound in your head. All of a sudden, things seemed to be a lot clearer to you.

Peter's mysterious bruises, sudden disappearances, and his lame excuses for always being late finally made sense.

Peter is Spider-man...

His words from the night he left echoed endlessly in your mind in a moment of clarity. Words of sorrow and despair, telling you that you couldn't be involved in his problems.

His problems, you thought at the time, were studying and learning new tricks on his skateboard, so the confusion you felt was justified. Now, though, you realize that he didn't mean his Peter Parker problems, it was Spider-man's problems that he was referring to.

Your phone found its way into your hands. The screen flashed brightly on your dark face. In your messages lay a forgotten draft to Peter. Slowly, you erased all the hateful and heartbreaking words. You replaced them with just two.

"I know."

As the message quickly went from "delivered" to "read" in less than a minute, the corners of your mouth twitched downward. Your hands trembled as you clutched the phone close, waiting for a response that would ultimately never come.

He was too afraid to tell you what he wanted.

—

You passed out as soon as you got home. Your mind was too tired to keep up with your newfound revelations, so you haphazardly tossed your phone aside and slid into bed. Time passed and your sleep was dreamless.

You weren't sure what time it was when you woke up, but the sound of thunder greeted your ears. You tried to blink away the drowsiness of your sleep as you pulled yourself out of the sheets. Your feet padded softly across your apartment's wooden floors until you sat down. Yawning, you reached for the remote and turned your tv on.

Not long after that, there was a faint knock at your door. You scanned your thoughts for possibilities of who would be at your apartment at this time of night, until you settled on one person.

With your nerves on fire, you shot up from the couch and quickly opened your door. It came as no surprise to see Peter stood in your doorway. He was soaking wet. It had obviously been raining while you were asleep. His wet, brown hair was stuck to his forehead, water droplets were collecting on his face, and his arms were wrapped around his frame in an attempt to retain any remaining body heat.

You noticed that he was shivering slightly, and with a hint of guilt you asked, "Peter, are you insane? It's late and it's raining."

You watched as his eyebrows knitted together; he opened his mouth to say something but then quickly closed it again. He seemed desperate to say something, and you silently pleaded that he would say anything to explain his sudden disappearance all those months ago. Without a word from him, you shook your head and started to close the door, but his foot pushed between the door and the frame.

You pulled the door open one more time and crossed your arms in front of you. He looked down sheepishly before finally speaking, "I'm sorry," the words falling from his lips flawlessly. A part of you wanted to take him in your arms and tell him that everything was alright, but the more sensible part of yourself knew that you deserved more than just those two words. With a lack of your response, he spoke up again, "I know you don't deserve how I left you, but I was scared. I, uhm, I was dealing with something? I know that's really vague but-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you held a hand up to silence him. With a sigh, you looked into his eyes and found all of his emotions swirling around in a pool of amber. "You don't have to keep hiding it, Peter. I know," you murmur.

His eyes dart around nervously, and his voice comes out a little shaky, "You-you know?" At your nod of confirmation, he runs a hand through his hair. Your name comes out as a whisper, and he continues, "I was so afraid that I was putting you in danger. That's why I left; I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt because of me. I know it's been a while, but I couldn't stop thinking about you every day." With every word of his confession, you felt yourself coming closer. The soft sound of his voice, in combination with the way he couldn't take his eyes off of yours, was a breaking point for you. With the brush of his hand against your cheek, every last big of anger you were holding on to disappeared.

Peter tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and you felt your voice break, "I missed you, so much. It hurt. You broke my heart, Peter." Without letting you utter another word; he pulled you into a tight embrace. He didn't care if his clothes were soaking wet. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and took in the sweet scent of his cologne as he held you. He rested his head on top of yours as he held you in his arms, and you allowed yourself to sink deeper into him.

"Let me put it back together, please." He pleaded, one hand on each side of your arms as he pulled away from you. "I'll be here for you, worse or for better, no matter what happens." His voice was stern, and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched in your throat. With one last plea his voice came out as a whisper, "I'll wait for you all my life."

A smile crept across your lips, and it was all the confirmation Peter needed before he cupped your jaw. Gently, he pulled you closer to him. He couldn't hold back his smile as his lips tenderly brushed yours. A hand moved to cradle the back of your head, closing any remaining distance so that he could kiss you properly. The kiss was soft, and yet it was filled with months of unfulfilled passion. Neither of you wanted it to end, but when you started to run out of oxygen, you had to pull away to breathe.

And that's how Peter got you, making damn sure that it was going to stay that way.

#peter parker x reader #Andrew garfield peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #spider man imagines #spider man x reader #andrew garfield spider man #peter parker fluff #tasm! peter parker x reader fluff #slight angst #blink and theres angst #works by californ1asnow #peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm! peter parker #tasm x reader #the amazing spider man

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 10 months

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Last Kiss

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Prompt - ‘But I never planned on you changing your mind.’

Notes - Happy Speak Now month! Request a fic for any of the remaining Speak Now tracks, click my masterlist to see which songs are left!!💜

You could safely say that falling in love with Peter Parker was the easiest thing you had ever done. Everything about him was easy to fall for. He had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, for so long it had been the two of you against the world. He had been there for all the good moments in your life and you had been there for his.

You’d known for years you were in love with him, long before either of you confessed it to each other. You had thought of telling him for a while but every time you’d thought you’d built the courage to do it you always backed out, not wanting to ruin your friendship.

It wasn’t until nearly two in the morning on some random night in fall when you heard a tapping on your window that things changed. You awoke with a groan, not having been asleep for long but exhausted from the day before.

At first you weren't sure what had woken you up, ready to just brush it off and let your eyes fall shut again. Just as you shifted in your bed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you heard more tapping and sat up with a frown.

It took a couple of moments for you to realise it was coming from your window and you felt a smile pull at your lips, wrapping the blanket around yourself because the room was cold. You climbed out of your bed and pulled your curtains back to see a masked Spider-Man grinning at you.

You were quick to push the window open, smile dropping as you took in the busted lip, bloody cheek and blackening eye. Peter didn’t seem all that fazed about it as he climbed in through the window, quickly catching a book he had knocked on his way in before it could make a noise and closed the window for you.

“Fun night?” You asked as you made your way to your desk, pulling out the med kit you kept handy ever since you’d found out that the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man happened to be your best friend.

“Yeah, it was great!” Peter grinned, causing you to wince as more blood leaked from his lips, Peter ignoring it as he relayed the events of his night, making himself comfortable on your bed.

As he spoke you gently got to work on cleaning the blood coming from the different spots on his face, knowing that his healing factor would take care of the rest and in just a few hours you wouldn’t even be able to tell that he had been hurt.

“Better?” You asked as you threw the bloody wipes onto your nightstand, along with the med kit, too tired to bother putting them away.

“Thank you.” Peter nodded, smiling softly at you before he pulled himself off the bed.

As he stripped out of the suit and opened your wardrobe for a pair of clothes you’d stolen from him months ago you fixed the blanket and settled back against the pillows, stealing a glance or two before he was dressed and climbing into bed with you.

The two of you had been sharing a bed since you were kids, back then it was fine, easy, he was just your best friend then but now, now it was different. It was harder to ignore your feelings when you were pulled against a warm chest, Peter’s arms wrapping around you, holding you close to him.

You were so stupidly in love with him that it hurt some days.

“Thank you for always patching me up.” He murmured into your hair and you smiled into his chest, smoothing your hand along his shirt.

“Somebody’s gotta watch out for Spider-Man whilst he’s saving the world.” You laughed, feeling the rumble of Peter’s chest as he chuckled.

The two of you were quiet for a while after that, your eyes had drifted back shut and you let yourself relax even more against Peter, selfishly savouring the way he felt wrapped around you, memorising the way his thumb automatically stroked soothingly up and down your hip, cherished the way you’d never felt quite as safe as you did in Peter’s arms.

“I love you.” Peter whispered into the dark, the words catching him by surprise.

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He hoped you had fallen asleep, hoped you hadn’t heard his whispered confession and yet another part of him wished you were awake to hear it. He wanted you to know that you were the one for him, that he’d been in love with you for longer than he could remember.

You were silent for a moment, not daring to move as though it would break the spell and Peter would take the words back, play them off as a joke. It took you a few more seconds before you were able to force yourself to move.

You shifted out of Peter’s grip only far enough away so that you could look over at him with disbelief on your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Peter couldn’t love you, it was just that you had never let yourself think he could love you the way you had loved him for so long.

“Y/N/N,” Peter started, torn between backtracking or just admitting it all over again, thankfully he was saved from having to decide when you smiled at him and reached out to cup his cheek, your thumb gently brushing over his already healing cut.

“I love you too.” You whispered back to him, watching as he froze for a second as if he wasn’t registering the words before a smile broke out and his whole face seemed to light up the dark room.

“Really?” He couldn’t help but ask and you laughed softly as you nodded, Peter leaned in and pressed your lips together, both of you smiling too much for it to be more of a brushing of your lips before Peter pulled you even closer and kissed you properly, the kiss soft and slow as he cupped your own cheek.

By the time the two of you were forced to pull away for air, you were dizzy and breathing heavily, Peter resting his forehead against yours and feeling just as intoxicatingly dizzy as you did.

Your first kiss with Peter turned into two then three until you couldn’t recall how many kisses were shared on that first night alone, neither of you able to stop until the pull of exhaustion forced you away from each other and you were able to fall asleep in his arms, not having to feel guilty for how much you enjoyed it anymore.

It went on for months, you and Peter shocking nobody when you announced that you were dating. Aunt May pulled you into a hug and told you she’d been waiting for you two to figure it out since you were six years old causing you both to laugh and share smiles.

Everything was perfect. The two of you were made for each other. You weren’t surprised that nothing much seemed to change between the two of you, Peter and you were still attached at the hip both during and after school, Peter still knocked on your window more nights than not to crawl into your bed after patrolling, the only difference now was that the two of you could be open with how you felt and that you could pull him down for a kiss whenever you wanted.

“You look gorgeous, love.” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you looked at each other through the mirror.

Peter had never been shy with the compliments, even before you started dating he always seemed to want you to know how beautiful you were and yet somehow they never failed to make you blush.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You smirked, turning around in his hold to drape your arms around his shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips.

The two of you were finishing getting ready to head to Gwen’s, her parents were away for some business trips and since school had just ended it seemed like the perfect time for somebody to throw a party.

As you headed in you felt Peter’s hand resting against the small of your back. That was another thing about Peter, he seemed incapable of keeping his hands to himself around you, there was always some part of him attached to you.

You weren’t complaining of course, you loved that Peter wasn’t afraid to show you off, you loved the feeling of him close by. Peter had always felt like home, felt safe, you would never push him away.

Peter was like the life of the party whenever he walked into a room, he didn’t care who anyone was, he’d say hi to you if you were popular or not, he’d pour you a drink and hand you some snacks and draw you into a conversation if you looked left out.

It was truly a wonder how people hadn’t figured out he was Spider-Man, both of them cared so much for other people, always willing to take a hit before he’d let someone else take it, always looking out for others.

Peter headed off to get you both a drink and you found Gwen in the crowd, letting her pull you in for a hug before she immediately started talking to you. You laughed along with her, joining in with the group she was with and were only pulled away when Peter found you with two drinks in hand.

You smiled at him, continuing with what you were saying before you were cut off by Peter’s lips pressing against yours and you couldn’t help but laugh into it as the others around you cooed and giggled.

“I was talking.” You said once he pulled away, Peter grinning down at you as he passed you a drink.

“Sorry, you just look so beautiful tonight.” He told you, causing you to roll your eyes playfully even as you blushed.

A few drinks later and Peter stumbled over to you, a happy grin on his face, his eyes bright as he wrapped himself around you, nuzzling into your neck and placing soft kisses against your skin.

“Dance with me?” He whispered into your ear, placing a kiss against it.

You weren’t usually one for dancing but Peter kept pressing kisses along your shoulder and you couldn’t help but give in to him, letting him lead you to the living room which seemed to have been turned into a dance floor for the time being.

Dancing with Peter was just as intoxicating as all of thing involving Peter seemed to be, the way his arms wrapped around you, gripping your hips as he pulled your back to his chest, moving against you, his lips still mouthing at your neck whilst he nudged you to tilt your head for him as you moved to the beat of whatever song was playing.

Peter danced with you for a song or two before he was pulling away from your neck, trailing a series of kisses up to your ear.

“Let me take you home?” He whispered, his voice thick and heavy with want and you wanted him just as badly, nodding against him and letting him lead you out of Gwen’s place and back to yours.

You had noticed straight away when something shifted, Peter knocked on your window less and less as the weeks went on, the two of you were so close that you felt the loss immediately. When the two of you were together he acted differently, pulling away more and more and if you thought that was bad in public it was even worse.

Suddenly Peter, who was usually so open with his affection for you, treated you like you were a stranger. It was strange to go from having him always with you to him pulling away. You had tried to accept that maybe he just needed some distance, you did spend a lot of time together, maybe he just needed to be alone for a bit.

But after weeks passed where you would go days without receiving a reply from him, without feeling his arms around you or his lips against yours you didn’t know what to do. Something was obviously wrong but instead of talking to you about it he was pushing you further and further away.

Peter, meanwhile, was freaking out.

He had been swinging through the city, ready to call it a night as things seemed to be quiet and head over to your house when he heard somebody frantically calling out for him. His spider senses immediately honed in on the voice and he swung faster towards it, dropping into a crouch in front of a scared girl.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, scanning the scene for any danger but other than the girl's pale face and shaking hands there wasn’t anything out of place.

“Spider-Man,” she breathed out, looking at him in fear. “He told me to give you this.”

The girl held out a large thick envelope that caused Peter to frown. He hesitated for a moment before he took it off her but didn’t open it just yet.

“Who gave this to you?” He asked, watching as she shook her head.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed me and dragged me down here. He told me I had to make sure you got that or he’d hurt me.” The girl began to cry and Peter shushed her gently, pulling her up and wrapping his arm around her.

“I’m really sorry, will you let me walk you home?” He asked her softly and spent the next twenty minutes walking through New York, making sure the girl got home safely before he swung a few blocks away.

He landed on a rooftop and sat down, opening the envelope and feeling his heart stop when a picture fell out. It was a picture of you with Spider-Man and when he tipped the envelope out he saw dozens more of the two of you together, thankfully each time he was fully suited and masked.

‘The itsy, bitsy Spider-Man sure would be crushed if something happened to his little girlfriend.’

Peter’s blood ran cold as he tried to run through all the people he had dealt with recently but couldn’t think of anybody who would be furious enough to stalk him and threaten you. He had always been nervous about mixing you and Spider-Man but you both thought you were being careful.

Clearly he was wrong and now you were in danger because of him.

Putting space between you made Peter feel like the biggest jerk in the world but he knew if he told you it would cause you to panic. He didn’t want you looking over your shoulder every second of the day, startling at every sound you heard and being too scared to leave your apartment.

He was torn. Being away from you hurt but he had to protect you. He never thought he’d have to choose between you and Spider-Man, you had accepted his masked side immediately but now he had to protect you even if you never knew.

“Will you stop!” You exclaimed as you tried to catch up to Peter, the man had gotten good at avoiding you. “Seriously, tell me what’s going on!”

“There’s nothing going on.” Peter insisted as he stopped walking to let you catch up to him.

“Don’t lie to me, don’t do that. I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re telling me we’re fine?” You cried, hating the way tears stung at your eyes but suddenly you were exhausted, being away from Peter for so long was wrong.

“Baby,” he sighed, stepping closer to you to cup your cheek. “I’m sorry, ok, I just…you’re right there is something wrong but not with us.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You pleaded and Peter’s own eyes filled with tears as he shook his head, leaning down to press your foreheads together and just savouring the feeling of having you so close.

“I love you so much.” He murmured, leaning down to press his lips against yours, kissing you so softly, so carefully, like you’d break if he was too rough.

“Peter, please just talk to me.” You begged when he pulled back but he shook his head again.

“I can’t baby, I can’t.” He told you tearfully, leaning in to kiss you one last time before pulling away. “Just do me a favour please.”

“Anything.” You told him sincerely, worried for him and wanting nothing more than to help him.

“Tell me you love me.” He asked, looking at you with wide, watery eyes that made your heart break.

“Of course I love you, you know that right?” You asked and he nodded at you, his lips thinning into a line as he fought back tears.

“Yeah, yeah I know that Y/N/N.” He forced his lips into a smile, taking you in before he knew he had to leave. “I gotta go baby.”

You went to open your mouth but Peter just shook his head, murmuring an apology before he raced away from you, leaving you standing in the street, watching as he blended into the crowd of strangers.

If you had known that would have been your last kiss with Peter you would have held him close a bit longer, you would have made it last until you were both gasping for breath, you wouldn’t have let him walk away without an explanation like the many years of your friendship, of your love meant nothing to him.

But you didn’t know that would be your last kiss with him, not until you got a call from Peter whilst you were in the shower. You hadn’t heard the phone ring but you smiled once you sat on your bed, changed into a pair of clothes you had stolen from Peter, to see a voicemail from him, it had been over a week since the last time you’d seen or heard from him.

“Um, hey…hey baby.” Peter said shakily and your smile immediately turned into a frown. “God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should be doing this in person but I can’t, I can’t because it’d kill me to see you cry. I…Y/N, I have to break up with you. I’m so sorry, baby but I gotta. It’s for the best.”

For the best? How was him breaking up with you for the best?

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N, you need to know that. This is all me and God, Y/N, one day I promise you, one day I’m gonna make up for all of this but right now…just know that I love you so much, baby, I really do love you.”

Tears were streaming down your face by the time the message ended and you were left in silence, the only sound was your occasional sobs as you struggled for air.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, you and Peter were meant to be it, you were meant to be with only each other, that’s what you promised each other. It was always supposed to be you and Peter against the world.

Now you were alone, with no explanation as to why only a promise that he would fix it one day. You weren’t sure how he was supposed to fix this when he couldn’t even stomach being in the same room as you.

You and Peter had planned a future together, it was impossible to see it without him. You didn’t want to see it without him. You weren’t supposed to have a last kiss with him, he wasn’t supposed to be something you missed.

You were so set on a future with Peter, thought he was so sure about one with you that the idea of him changing his mind had never even occurred to you. You wish it had though because then maybe you would have expected this a little bit but nothing could have prepared you for this.

You didn’t want this to be the end of your story with Peter, this was never how you’d imagined it to end and yet there was nothing you could do to change it, the only thing you could do was hope that one day Peter kept his promise and made things right again.

Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -

@haroldpotterson, @rottenstyx, @powerpuffluuvv, @filmsbyblair, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @chaoticevilbakugo, @ppgrayson, @onyourgoddamnleft, @divanca2006, @siriuslyfearless, @levisbloodcut, @alwaysclassyeagle, @asherhunterx, @ordinarylokix, @carmellasworld, @ellabellabus07, @lokismidnight, @maeve-7, @apolysius, @jasontoddthezombie, @qfton, @honkroselyn, @inflatabledinosaurs19, @father-violet, @rosesinmars, @mystic-writings, @izzyyy-1, @lizamango, @beaconings, @randomwriter1021, @taylordidsomthingbad, @kaitieskidmore1, @aylauwuuniverse, @hydeonysus, @freeshavocadoooo, @writeroutoftime, @mrslizzyolsen, @kosmic-klouds, @idli-dosa, @allthingsmarvellove, @inas-thing, @xxchaotic, @standarizedpumpkins, @ukai-hoe, @lucyysthings , @cwritesforfun, @siriusstwelveyears, @myguiltypleasures21, @luluwinchester-blog, @polyglot-noodle, @bubsonnobx, @heyitsaloy, @eddiefreakingmunson, @eddiefrickenmunson, @f-sant, @fairydxll, @valluvsu, @sjprongs, @uwiuwi, @ellablossom-blog, @alexparkxr, @instabull, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @momoewn, @secretsthathauntus, @clairemsworld, @psychicbouquetgladiator, @evvy96, @pedritoswife, @iluvweasleys, @navs-bhat, @nashja, @alexxavicry, @annabellefrances1, @myeyesandheartadjust, @countryday, @pretty-npeach, @harry-and-ouis28, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @definitelykyles, @handsupforamiracle, @nao1800, @imposter-27, @hoplessromantic17, @father-violet, @lunalovegood156, @lazyxsquirrel, @bitchineedfuckingtherapy, @taygrls, @keorioq, @elcve, @soldierheart @ct-0113, @orchiidflwer @libraryofsweetpotatoes, @canty0us33, @missabsey, @dunno--what-to-put-here

Thank you so much for reading!💜

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liz-allyn · 1 year

Text

sugar and vice, pt 5 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: what is the appropriate amount of time to forgive your kidnapper?

words: 3.9 k

warning: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. allusions to violence. coersion. kidnapping. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. 'only ten one bed oops' trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. nudity. extremely toxic relationships.

a/n - as many of you pointed out in the last chapter, this version of Peter is darker and messier than TASM canon. expect him to make a lot of mistakes before he becomes a changed man. if he changes.

18+. you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you don't remember watching an episode of pop up [music] video on a television network, then keep it movin'.

Back to Part 4

Part 5

She awoke to darkness. Her whole body felt sore. Head throbbing from the onslaught of tears. She felt like a ceramic pot that had been roasting in a kiln for hours.

Stirring from her dreamless sleep, she glanced left and right. Her hands were free of the bindings. Brow curled, she looked over at the closed door, pondering if her captor had snuck into the room while she was out.

Honey sat up with a start, blinking the remnants of sleep from her eyes. She reached for her wrists, finding nothing but an oily residue left behind. Still puffy from the duct tape rash, her skin was sensitive to her touch, but otherwise unharmed.

She glanced up at the closed door. Her stomach churned. She fought the instinct to curl up and hide beneath the bed. The memory of Peter’s fierce gaze lingered, a raw burn in her mind.

Despite her logic telling her that she was the victim, she still felt conflicted.

She had been kidnapped, sure— and she needed to do whatever was necessary to survive. Strangely, she still felt guilty for taking a swing at him like she did. As soon as her fingers touched the rock, she slammed it into the side of his head, without much thought.

“What are you, stupid? It’s a wonder you even make it home alive each night!”

She couldn’t quite name what came over her. She dealt a blow to his temple that could’ve killed him. Surprised that it didn’t. And then what would that be like? Could she really find it in herself to kill another human being? Not to mention, she’d be alone in the woods with a dead body, with no clue where she was.

The thought made her queasy, twisting her stomach into a pretzel. She could’ve just run away, but when it came time to do so, she froze. Typical.

While she was hiding, she watched and listened quietly to his rampage below. Rage was one thing she expected, but not the misery she witnessed. The look she found in his eyes was something else entirely. Heartbreak and relief, like he would burst into tears at any moment.

It made her heart ache to witness it.

And then she hit him with a rock. Like some kind of cavewoman.

Brilliant idea, she thought disdainfully.

“You need to slow down!” More bitter thoughts flooded her, this time with the voice of her mother. “Always talking too fast! Always moving too fast! You do without thinking. No wonder you mess everything up.”

Her eyes grew heavy with melancholy and exhaustion. Despite the darkness wrapped around her, she felt like sleep was out of the question.

A strange melody crept up through the closed door to her room. Voices. Percussion. Music. Upbeat and entrancing.

There wasn’t a clock in her room but she had figured it was the middle of the night. Why would Peter be jamming out in the middle of the night?

Her stomach twisted again. The thought of coming face-to-face with him gave her chills. She rubbed her wrists idly. She could feel bruises there. She was afraid to leave the room. But she was also starving, and lamented not having at least one sandwich before her daring and ill-conceived escape. She was also miserably dehydrated, as every bit of moisture had leaked through her swollen eyelids.

And she had to pee. And that was now all she could think about. Her room thankfully had its own bathroom. Swinging her still-booted feet over the edge of the bed onto the floor, she tiptoed to the bathroom and relieved herself.

She thought she heard singing. Bad, out-of-tune singing. Creeping to the door, she placed her ear against the cool surface, trying to identify thes source. Out of curiosity or courage, she twisted the handle and peeked her head around the frame.

By the time she reached the bottom step of the staircase into the living room, she had a full view of the area and Peter was nowhere in sight. The one person who was in the room (and the source of music) was Miles, as he sat at the kitchen bar and dangled a pizza slice larger than his head above his mouth.

The music was echoing across the room from a tiny portable speaker on top of the kitchen bar. In his own world, the teenager’s head bobbed as he blew steam from his pizza, then took a giant bite.

She watched curiously as she approached from behind. The giant decorative clock built into the great room wall confirmed that it was incredibly late. Or early. One wouldn’t know it from Miles’ energy, or the volume of his jam session. She looked left and right, expecting to find more people, but saw no one else.

The flow of the music was broken when she accidentally walked into a low-height side table, her knee knocking to the corner. The lamp on top of the table jolted and Miles spun around in the barstool, letting out a piercing screech that could best be described as falsetto.

Honey responded in kind, letting out a shrieking Ahhhhhh of her own. Miles curled himself up on the stool, pulling his palms and one leg up defensively. “Sorry!” she blurted, as he clutched his own chest. “Sorry! So sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“You scared the crap outta me!” Miles said, his panic ebbing.

“I didn’t mean to—wait, is that how you really scream?”

“What about it?!” Miles exclaimed indignantly. “Not the point! You’re the one who’s creepin’ up on people like we’re in a horror movie... Crazy... La Llorona stuff!” The pitch of his voice normalized as he took a deep breath, frustration subsiding. “I dead-ass almost punched you in the face—I don’t mess around!”

“Sorry, sorry...” Honey babbled, her face twisted in a grimace. “I, uh, didn’t mean... to, uh... Llorona...”

“It’s fine!” Miles sighed, his heart rate slowing. It didn’t sound fine. “It’s over—maybe let’s just not ever mention this again, okay? To anyone? Especially not to people I know.”

Honey nodded her head in agreement, motioning that her lips were zipped and she was ‘throwing away the key.’

A few awkward moments of silence passed between them as he reached over and turned down the music on the speaker. He straightened out his zip-up hoodie uncomfortably. A small smile crept up on her face. She found his reaction endearing, and not at all what she expected from—whatever it was they were involved with.

“Um,” she cleared her throat. “Hi.”

Miles gave her a sheepish look. “Hi.”

There was a mountain of awkwardness between them. She looked around, then pointed at the massive box of pizza. “So... post-midnight snack?”

“Oh,” the teenager responded, looking back at the pizza. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re probably hungry.” He reached for the box, opening the lid. “Here, have some. It’s Lucia’s. There’s plenty.”

“Lucia’s?” she exclaimed, pondering the distance between wherever they were to downtown Flushing. She moved to the box, peering inside. “I like Dani’s.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect. This pie heats up better,” Miles remarked, taking another bite of his slice.

“Yeah?” Her eyes slid over to Miles. “How fresh is it?”

“Boss said to bring Lucia’s. So I did.” He shrugged his shoulders idly, placing his attention back on his slice of pizza. She slumped with a huff, having been dismissed.

“Boss,” she repeated, a chill going down her spine. “You mean Ben. Or...Peter, I guess,” She glanced around the mostly empty kitchen and living area, almost as if saying his name would summon him like Bloody Mary. “Is he here?”

Miles smacked his lips, wiping his mouth. “Nope, just me.”

There was a pleasant calmness in his demeanor. It seemed to her that he was the only normal person that she’d met since being pulled off the train. The only person that treated her like a real person. Not that Peter hadn’t tried to show her kindness... or at least, what his mind perceived as kindness.

She rocked forward on her toes, suddenly interested in the fibers of the cardboard box. “Is he... Is he okay?”

Miles avoided looking at her, and she wondered how much Peter had told him about her escape attempt. She wondered why she felt suddenly embarrassed by her actions. Ashamed even. What did that say about her?

“Didn’t say much,” he replied. “Said he needed to take care of some stuff. Told me to hang out in case you needed anything.”

Something burned in her chest, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. “That was nice,” she stated in earnest. “I guess.”

“He’s pretty cool,” Miles nodded, matter-of-factly. “Nice guy.”

She bitterly scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He didn’t respond. He was skilled at avoiding her provocation despite how badly she wanted to start a fight. Passively, he devoured his pizza in record time, then reached over the box to grab a paper plate. It looked sorely out of place compared to the grandeur of the kitchen.

“Wan’some?” he asked. “I also brought soda and stuff. Boss said no TV, but we can watch a movie on Netflix or something. Or we got a Switch. You ever play Smash Bros?”

It took her a moment for the implications to sink in. “‘No TV?’” she repeated with a growl, letting out a frustrated sigh. “What are we, children?”

She snatched the paper plate from his hand and reached into the box, grabbing herself a slice of pizza. Without further protest, she bit into the pie, savoring the taste. Lucia’s was superior, she recognized.

“He said to get you whatever you needed,” he answered, paying her complaints no mind. “The whole house is free range except for the office. But everything else is cool. You can use the gym. There’s a library. The sauna. A pool, if you wanna check that out, too.”

She blinked at him, nearly choking on her pizza. “This place has a pool?”

“Heated,” he wiggled his eyebrows enticingly.

She glanced down, conniving. “What about a computer?”

Miles shook his head. “Don’t know about that.”

“Could I borrow your phone?”

“No can.”

“C’mon,” she pleaded, her voice gentle. “I’m not gonna call the cops. Just wanna check in with my mom.”

“Can’t bring phones out here,” he shrugged apologetically. “It’s a rule. Phones can be hacked and traced. All you need is a sus text like ‘Hey, I’m here,’ or ‘We issued you a refund for $600,’ and you click on the link and boom. They got you.”

Honey peered at him suspiciously, “Who’s they?”

“No clue.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your ‘boss’ sounds pretty paranoid if you ask me.”

“That actually wasn’t his rule,” Miles explained conversationally. He leaned back in the barstool in a way that made her anxious. “That was Peni. She’s our tech nerd.”

“Peni?” she repeated.

“Yeah, she’s like—a genius.”

Her pizza suddenly became too chewy. “So I’m just a prisoner?” she huffed.

Miles looked over at her for a few moments, considering her. He let out a quiet sigh. “I know it’s a lot,” he said kindly, then added with consolation. “Pete’s a lot. Sometimes.” Stone-faced, she stared back skeptically. “But he’s a really good dude. Just... he worries. He wouldn’t do all this if he didn’t care.”

She glared at him through lidded eyes. “Do you hear yourself right now?” she spat. “You sound like a Lifetime movie. Do I need to call Child Protective Services?”

“Hey, not cool. M’not a child,” he bristled, offended. “I’m sixteen.” She stared at him with a raised brow, watching as he stuffed another slice of pie into his mouth. “Wan’some Mountain Dew?”

She blinked. Several times. Then resigned herself. “Sure.”

The eerie indigo and orange glow of civil dawn peeked through the bay windows of the great room. It was silent except for soft snores. With weary eyes and a suit jacket which had been wrinkled by physical exertion, Peter wandered into his house even more of an alien than when he’d left it.

The sort of activities in which he’d participated in earlier that night did that to him. It made him a stranger in his own home. Even more in his own skin.

He paused briefly and took a moment to gaze upon the lanky teenager sprawled out on one of the leather couches. Jordans crossed. sticking up over the sofa arm. A Nintendo controller rested on his chest as he dozed deeply, film forming in the corner of his open mouth. The sight made Peter crack a bittersweet smile. Nostalgia accompanied by an ache of longing. Somewhere beneath Miles’ oversized clothes, there was a good kid who wasn’t all that different from Peter.

Who he used to be.

His eyes roved across the room to the opposite sofa. Honey was curled up like a cat, still in the blouse and jeans that she arrived in. Her hiking boots were placed neatly next to the couch. The snuggly sight of her made his heart leap into his throat. Her upper body expanded and deflated in a steady rhythm like ocean waves, and the action both entranced and haunted him. The bittersweet feeling in his chest soured and blackened, until it became a guilt-ridden tumor wrapping tendrils around his heart.

He had been so cruel earlier. He erupted into a fit of blind rage. A brute. The kind of anger that made people want to turn their heads. Anger that if Gwen were still alive, she wouldn’t be able to look at without being sickened. He was the sort of person that Aunt May and Uncle Ben would cross the street to avoid.

He thought he’d lost her too. And he was terrified.

No wonder she was scared. It was his fault, to think that she could somehow see him as something other than a monster. Now, there wasn’t much hope in changing her mind.

Peter felt his eyes burn as he peeled them from her lithe form. He glanced down at his hands, observing the deep crimson stains in his skin. Rusty-brown spots soiled the wrinkled cuffs of his dress shirt.

He’d have to throw it out, he mused. There’d be no getting those stains out. No matter how much time he put into scrubbing. No matter if he flayed his own skin off his bones, the blood would always be there.

His heart rate quickened. He felt bile rising in his throat. With alarm, he disappeared down a hallway, tucking himself swiftly in a washroom.

When he returned, he was shirtless. His forearms were bright red, stinging with how hard he’d scrubbed. Head down, he crept quietly towards the staircase leading up to the bedrooms on the upper level.

He paused at the sofa, glancing down longingly at the woman he would never deserve.

The woman that would never forgive him for how he acted.

Never forgive him for what he was. The thought made his lower lip tremble.

He didn’t deserve her. This was an undeniable fact.

But regardless, she was still his responsibility. His to protect. His to keep safe.

His to keep.

His shadow fell over her as he reached down and gently lifted her from the sofa. Effortlessly, he carried her weight like a towel over his arm, or a down-pillow in his hands. Ascending the staircase with her tucked against his chest, he didn’t miss the way she huddled closer to his warmth. She sighed against the skin over his heart in a way that made gooseflesh rise.

Gently, he ferried her, like a small boat on a glass lake. He strode past the door to the room that she had occupied and continued down the hallway, headed to the southern-facing end of the house. He approached the heavy oak door to his bedroom and used his toe to push it open. The action barely disturbed her at all. Like floating on a cloud.

Moving through the bedroom darkened by blackout curtains, he drifted across his room and rested her body on the silk surface of the California-king bedspread. Delicately, he placed her head on a 1000-thread count pillow void of any scents other than his own. He hoped that it would smell like her shampoo by the time she woke up.

He stepped back from the bed, listening the pulsation of her heart. Studied the pace of her breathing. Fixated on her soft features as she floated in her slumber. A familiar pang reached his chest as he watched her, hesitating for only a moment more before he padded to the other side of the bed.

She sighed in her sleep, nuzzling the softest pillow she’d ever laid on, and shuddered comfortably as two arms wrapped around her waist. She felt herself pulled back and was cradled by a firm form shaping her own. It was warm. She was warm. The breath on the back of her neck was warm.

Her eyes shot open, a small gasp catching in her throat. Rapidly, she blinked through the murky twilight of the foreign bedroom, her heart spiking.

“Don’t,” she heard a deep, raspy voice whisper in her ear. She went rigid, recognizing the owner of the voice and the body pressed up against hers. Alarm flooded her.

“Please don’t,” he said softly, with a tone that sounded shockingly broken. She was frozen. Stunned. By fear or surprise, or both.

Another murmur, “Stay with me.”

It was a whimper shaped like a demand. With it, she swore she could feel a tremble in his grip. He buried his face in her hair, his bearded chin tucking into her shoulder. His arms locked her into an impenetrable grip.

Instinct was screaming at her to break the hold. Told her she needed to fight. Or run, as far and fast as she could manage.

It wouldn’t be very far. The previous afternoon he proved that he was more than capable of bringing her back.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The way the air from his lungs ghosted over her nape made her eyes flutter shut.

His arms were heavy. Firm, but not painful. Solid, not tight. She imagined the hearty limbs of the oak in the backyard of her childhood home. Three seasons out of the year, she’d scale into its arbor, hiding from her troubles. She once wanted to build a home there.

She should fight. She should run.

There was a monster in her bed. She was in a monster’s bed.

And yet, sleep took her soon after. The most peaceful rest she’d had in ages.

When she emerged from her rest, she was alone again. Harsh daylight flooded into the bedroom she hadn’t had the chance to see. After a moment of confusion, she turned around to see the other side of the bed unoccupied. The blankets undisturbed. She glanced down at her own clothes. Though wrinkled and dirtied from her tree climbing adventure and attempted escape, they were intact.

She was surprised, but even more surprised at the strange mix of... anxiety?

When is the appropriate amount of time when you’re forced into your kidnapper’s bed for him to... you know... make a move? Was it her? Was she awful, or even worse—did she smell bad?

The line of self-conscious questioning and odd disappointment frustrated her further. She sighed, silenting cursing her own stupidity, shaking the thought from her mind.

Someone once told her that if life was a horror film, she’d be the first to die. It would’ve offended her more if she wasn’t wrapped up in the notion that if life could be a horror film, how would any of us know we were in one?

Her mother answered— ”Stupid, stupid girl.”

Attention now turned to the surroundings, she came face-to-face with another real-life magazine spread. A dream bedroom. The coziest jewel of this particular dream home.

Although it was a modest size, it didn’t feel that way. The primary bedroom was decorated with a soothing blend of alabaster stone, exposed beams of reclaimed wood, and snuggly linen tones. Vaulted ceilings lined with ash. A winding, black iron chandelier dangled over the four-post bed she laid in. A stone fireplace stood opposite from the bed, accompanied by an overstuffed linen chair. Just as in the other rooms, a double-height window accented with floor-to-ceiling drapes towered over the room and revealed the breathtaking mountain landscape.

She sat up and gathered her jaw up off of the bedspread. Wiped drool from her lip. The room was charming and warm, like fuzzy socks and sherpa blankets. Marshmallows melting on hot cocoa. It wrapped around her, like a hug.

Like her visitor last night.

She yanked her eyes off of the rustic-contemporary decor, searching for Peter, as if he would’ve somehow camouflaged himself into the space. Placing her socked feet down on the blessedly toasty hardwood, she peered around curiously. The gentle roar of water running caught her attention as she wandered to the other side of ithe room. An open doorway led into another massive space, one side lined with wardrobe cabinetry and the other half of the room obscured by a wall.

Idly, she followed the path through what she recognized as a closet larger than her apartment, rounding the corner of the freestanding wall. Clouds billowed around her, as she gazed open-mouthed at the primary bathroom. Sunlight poured in, lighting up the space, bouncing off of white marble and black obsidian glass tile—

And Peter Parker.

Steam wafting off of his nude form, hot water pouring down his backside. She paused midstep, eyes like saucers. Felt the blood rush to her face. Panic swallowed her. She imagined this is exactly what deers must feel right before getting plowed by an F-150, blinded by headlights.

Except that she was blinded by his wet pale skin, the way the steam rose from it, like he was the source of heat. The smattering of freckles spread faintly across his shoulders. His palms were flat against the backsplash as he bowed his head into the stream of water. His dark locks slicked back by a cleansing cascade.

She followed the current down the curve of his shoulders and the peaks of his spine, down to the dimpled valleys of his lower back, and that breathtaking canyon ridge that dips down in a V at his hips— whatever that’s called— and never in her life would she see herself as an ‘ass enthusiast,’ but her mouth was watering now, maybe from the lack of hair on his body (his skin was so buttery smooth, what was his skincare secret?) or the subtle curvature of his shapely cheeks—

Aimlessly, she collided with a freestanding towel drying rack, sending it clamoring to the tile floor. To her ears it sounded like the whole Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade falling down a staircase into a pile of cookware. She didn’t bother to see if Peter could hear the racket.

Like Icarus into the Sun, she hurled her own body back into the closet before she could be seen. Landed hard on the carpeted floor with a thud. She scattered, scrambling like a crab, on her hands and knees until she could get to her feet and bolt from the room.

In a frenzy, she rushed to ‘her’ bedroom, the one nearest to the stairs. She didn’t breathe again until the door was slammed shut and she rested her weight against it. A fire raged beneath her skin, her face aflame with embarrassment. She dragged her palms down her cheeks, groaning with mortification, sinking to the floor.

At what point is it acceptable to creep on your kidnapper in the shower?

Continue to Part 6

a/n - I've gotten such overwhelmingly amazing feedback on this. thank you so much to each of you that commented, sent me an ask, and big thank you to those of you that reblogged!

don't forget, to be tagged you must reblog so I can keep track of you!

thank you so much, angels!

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bellarkeselection · 1 year

Note

Hey i was wondering if you could do a spider man (aka peter parker short

Where y/n has been hurt . And he thinksnits his fault but she Reassures him it wasnt his fault

Nothing is your Fault

The city streets were extremely busy as usual. With everyone moving about like they were all in a rush with no patience. Most of them running late and the others not really giving a crap. Regardless that didn't help when I had a twisted ankle that I had yet to get checked out by a doctor. I had been super busy with trying to decide what I was going to college for and helping my secret superhero boyfriend. I have been dating him for two years but I won't lie that it was a surprise when he revealed to me that he was what people were calling Spider-Man. During my walk someone dropped down behind me where I spun around on my feet seeing it was my boyfriend Peter. "Hey baby, I was doing some patrol and I saw you were limping. Is everything okay?" He ran a hand through his hair slumping his shoulders walking up to me smiling in concern.

“Oh uh thanks for checking up on me, Peter. But seriously everything is fine. I just needed a walk to clear my head. So how was the patrol?” I asked shrugging my shoulders where he started walking right beside me. Since he was taller I had to walk every two steps to his one just to keep up. He pushed his hands inside his pockets sending me a cheeky look. I could tell he enjoyed that we could talk about his secret double life since he couldn’t tell anyone else. “It went good. Nothing much really happened except for some traffic lights being out. Are you sure you’re alright because you are limping on that leg. Did it happen from the other day we went out swinging?” Peter asked a second time gently holding my forearm seeing that I was putting most of my weight on my other foot. Dropping my gaze to the ground I sighed in defeat remembering that we went web swinging a few days ago. I accidentally fell onto the floor of his bedroom a little hard where we almost got caught by his aunt May. “I landed hard on my ankle that day but I didn’t start feeling any pain until today. Now I’m sorry for not telling you but it will go away when I put some ice on it because it is juicy sprained.”

Suddenly before I had any real time to react Peter wrapped an arm around my waist tugging me closely into his embrace. He quickly looked around making sure no one was paying close attention before he shot some webbing out of his blasters. We swing from a couple buildings until we swing inside my bedroom window that I had left opened cracked since I was expecting him to come by later. “Look I am so sorry now I am going to take care of you. Because this is my fault and you’re my girlfriend.” He sat me down on the bed lifting my foot up so it was elevated on the pillow. He came back from the closet wrapping me in a blanket where I could see that he was starting to pace back and forth in a nervous manner. “Peter, hold up. This is not your fault. Come here sit.” Grabbing one of his web shooters I was fixing I shot some at him tugging him into my bed where he fell down beside me. Moving my hand up to his face I smiled laying my head on his chest. “You don’t have to blame yourself. It’s just a light sprain on my ankle. I’ll just put some ice on it for a few days. Now just cuddle with me please.” He nodded wrapping his arms around my waist where I snuggled into his embrace. “I’ll be more careful next time we go web swinging Y/n. I promise that.” He mumbled into my hair before I gave him a soft kiss smiling back at him.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

@makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08 @mcugeekposts

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babeyvenus · 2 months

Text

Venom?

Tasm! Peter x Venom! Reader

Ch. 4

Peter led you back home, now on high alert. He didn't let you get up to get anything without him unless you needed to use the bathroom.

Any other time, he had you laying down in bed. It bugged you a bit, but it was sweet of him to be so worried.

Does he taste sweet, though?

You paused. What the fuck. Taste??? Why would you want to taste him?

Sensing your sudden discomfort and silence made him glance over to you. "You okay?", he asked for the umpteenth time.

You force a smile on your face, giving him a nod. "Mhm." His eyes narrowed a bit but he didn't press you.

Hungry.

The voice made you flinch a bit which made Peter stand. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Just feeling hungry right now.", you rushed. He nodded. "What're you feeling up to? Take out? Pizza?"

You nod. "Pizza sounds nice. Just something to get in my system."

Peter nodded, grabbing his phone to call for delivery. He would've gone out to get you some other foods, but didn't trust himself to leave you alone again.

After he finished, he hung up and sighed softly, glancing at you again. "You sure you're okay?"

You couldn't give him much of an answer, considering there wasn't much he could do. "I don't even know, P. One minute I've got a booming headache, the next I'm hearing the same voice and the pain goes away once it's satisfied. I'm trying as much as I can to make sure it stays satisfied so it can shut up."

Once you say that, a warning growl echoes in your head.

He looked at you, worried and dejected. "I don't like feeling helpless.", he says, sitting on the bed next to you. You nodded. "I know. That's what sucks."

"I don't wanna say whatever this thing is might be corrupting you or infecting you…", he shrugs and shakes his head. "I don't know what to call it. The only word I can think of is parasite, since it's living off of you."

Parasite!?

The loud voice booms in your ears, making you flinch and cover them. "I think you just said a very bad word.", you whispered. Peter looks at you in confusion and worry. "What, Para—" You quickly covered his mouth. "Yes, that word. Don't say it again."

Nodding, he shuts his lips and you remove your hand. The voice quiets down and you sigh in relief. "I've never been so glad for silence.", you say, giving Peter a weak smile.

"It's that loud, huh?", he joked.

"Very.", you replied. Snuggling up to him, you laid your head on his chest, receiving an arm around you in return.

The soft beats against your ear makes you want to shut your eyes and hide away from the world.

"Comfy?" Peter interrupts your thoughts.

You nod, smiling. "Your heart's beating really fast." He huffed out a chuckle. "Could've mistaken that for yours. Yours is going a mile a minute."

The peace doesn't last long once the doorbell starts ringing obnoxiously, which causes you to flinch away from Peter, and cover your ears in pain.

"What!? What's-", his heart dropped in realization. Loud noises. The thing can't stand loud noises. He stored that information in the back of his mind.

Thrashing around made Peter panic between trying to calm you down and going for the door instead.

Trembling from the sudden quiet, you drop your arms and glance at him. He made his way over to you, scooping you in his arms. "It's over. I got you.", he reassures. You curled up, letting out a sigh.

He opened the front door, quickly taking the pizza and slamming the door in the deliverer's face before setting the pizza box on the table and coming to your aid.

Like before, darkened veins appeared on your skin as they enlarged. To Peter, he'd already stopped the doorbell from ringing more, but to you and the intruder in you, the ringing echoed until it stopped.

"I don't think you can even listen to music anymore.", he tried to joke. You shook your head. "Silence sounds so good right now."

"And pizza?", he asked. You nodded, giving him a weak smile. He slipped away, sitting you up on your bed frame before leaving to get the pizza box.

He couldn't imagine how painful it was. To see that something like loud noises could trigger the thing made him paranoid. His hearing was very good, but not that sensitive.

What if it was something louder? If not a doorbell, what else would he have to protect you from? Car horns? Sirens? Was yelling too loud? Did your own screams hurt you back at the hospital?

His thoughts constantly jumbled together and you could see it on his face. "Your thoughts are loud.", you say, snapping him out.

His eyes widened. "You can read my mind too?" You snorted and shook your head. "No, you're just an open book. Quit worrying."

He huffed, sitting next to you. "I can't help that. I worry about you because I care. I should've taken you home that night."

"But you did.", you say. He gives you a grimace. "I meant before finding you passed out in an alley I specifically told you not to go walking through."

"Now it's my fault?", you ask, raising an eyebrow. Peter quickly responded, "Your words, not mine."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you take a slice, humming in satisfaction of the food.

After eating plenty of slices and leaving the rest for Peter, you sighed in relief. "You doing okay?", Peter asked. Only having energy to nod, you did.

Everything felt content for however long it'll last until both of you perked up to the sound of sirens speeding down the street.

"Dammit.", Peter mumbled and looked down at you. "I don't wanna leave you alone."

You gave him a soft smile, trying to reassure him. "I think I'll be fine without you babysitting me, Pete. Go be Spiderman."

He bit his lip before sighing and nodding. "Okay. Okay." He pressed a kiss to your forehead before going for your window. He paused and looked back at you, "Just... Call if you get a weird feeling. Please."

You nod, giving him a light push. "You're gonna be late.", you laugh with a whine. A smile appearing on his face, he opened your window. "Love you.", he says.

Grinning, you walk over to kiss his cheek. "I love you. Now, go.", you say, and he chuckled, swinging out of the window.

You watch him leave before letting out a sigh and closed the window. "Please, don't let anything happen to today.", you begged to no one special.

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm imagine #tasm #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x venom reader #venom #marvel #andrew garfield!peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x black female reader #tasm peter parker x black reader

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prismuffin · 1 year

Note

Andrews Peter Parker x male reader kryptonian, with them not being just dating yet but patrol together and know each others secret identities and Peter sees reader flirting with another guy and peters giving him the cold shoulder the rest of the day and on patrol until reader has enough 🤭

A/n: You sent this in LAST MINUTE LMFAOOOO I still got it tho -- not necessarily proofread sorry I gotta get this out! I'll check it later but right now I gotta work PFF-

Jealousy, Jealousy

tasm!Peter Parker x male!kryptonian!reader

( summary: Peters been giving you the cold shoulder since your friends Christmas party and you’ve finally had enough )

warnings?: light swearing, Peter sorta being “mean” to the reader, arguing/angry confession, reader wears a mask like Peter, reader calls Peter 'honeybee'

!-!more under the cut!-!

You could practically feel your blood boil at the tension that flooded the space between you and Peter. The air that was usually filled with light chatter and flirty remarks was left heavy and silent, almost eerily so. He hasn’t said a word to you since the start of patrols, nods and grunts are the only indication that he’s even listening to you. Come to think of it, he hadn’t said a word to you all week. It’s been radio static on his end for what feels like the longest. At first you thought he was just busy with his own life but now that he’s in front of you it’s clear that it’s more than that.

Last weekend some guys at your college threw a huge Christmas party and you’d decided to invite Peter along. The only time he ever got out was on patrols and you thought he needed a change of scenery. Maybe he would even meet a girl or guy that he liked and he’d stop complaining about being single all the time. But it seems like ever since then he’s become even more reserved, towards you at least. And you just can’t seem to wrap your head around why he’s been acting like this. He hasn’t texted or called you once since that damn party, opting for leaving you on read or flat out declining your calls. You hoped thought that things would be different in person. That you’d walk up to him and he’d just apologize for being so busy this week and you both would talk and joke like you usually do but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Your eye twitched as the air somehow grew thicker, it felt more suffocating than ever. You tried to focus on your patrols. Scan the streets and use your superheating to find signs of danger so that you could stop any potential threats. Taking a large breath, you did just that, focused on the sounds of the streets, going from block to block until you heard what sounded like conflict and gunfire. “Escaped inmates have hostages on 5th.” You turned to Peter who nodded and began swinging off. With a sigh you followed him, flying at a steady pace above him. Usually he’d say “race ya,” or make a bet over who could stop more criminals but nope, he just swung off. So you’re not imagining things, he seems to actually be mad at you for something but for what?

You don’t have time to ponder that question as you land with a thud, Peter coming in swinging from behind you. Making quick work, you check just how many threats there are with your X-ray vision before charging through the doors, though they were webbed open before you could make impact. Not expecting this, you didn’t have time to stop with just how much force you put behind your dash causing you to crash headfirst into an inmates back. Even with the small stumble you were able to recover rather quickly but even then it didn’t stop the glare that you shot at Peter. You always charge first whenever you both patrol together, is he pretending like you’re not even here? You could feel yourself grinding your teeth as you punched an inmate a little too hard, his body flying out a window of the shop. The fighting continued and you have to say that, that was the worst fight you've had with Peter. he kept being in the way, whenever you turned he was there or you'd have to dodge one of his webs as it slung seemingly randomly. He had to be distracted with something, there was no doubt now.

---

"Ok, what the hell was that?" You asked as you both landed on a nearby roof, watching the police find and detain the webbed up criminals. He didn't speak, just turned and started walking away from the edge of the roof. "Honeybee, come on, I'm not just ignoring this you were all up in my way during that fight." "Oh really? I was in your way?!" Peter shot his thoughts back at you verbally for the first time this night, and though you were glad to finally hear his voice the tone was unignorable. "Yeah! What, is your little spidey tingle broken or something? You almost crashed into me three times!" Your eyebrows furrowed behind your mask as you heard Peter scoff. "Well maybe you should watch where you're going when fighting." A laugh ripped from your throat though it was more out of disbelief than hilarity. "Don't try and turn this on me, I saw you. You let that inmate get a hit on you and everything. You've been like this all night will you just drop this silent treatment shit and tell me what's going on?!" You breathed heavily as a silence filled the air but you broke it before it could crush you. "You've barely talked to me all week, did I," You took a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard to look at Peter. "Did I do something to make you mad at me? Please just tell me and I'll apologize and fix it! But I can't fix the problem if you won't even talk to me about it." Your sentence got quieter the more you spoke and after a while Peter sighed. "What is it? Was it the Christmas party?" You saw Peters hand twitch at the mention of it, his hand balling into a fist. "Oh my god it was, well what the fuck! Was it 'cause I left you? Look dude I know it was wrong for me to kinda dip but you could've walked up to me at any time! There's no need to go this fucking far over a goddamn Christmas party!" "It wasn't the Christmas party!" Peter suddenly yelled, "or well, I guess it was I just- Ugh!" Throwing his hands up in defeat, he slid to the ground, resting his face in his hands as he sat in a crisscross position.

Walking closer to him, you sat down in front of him, poking his hands. "Can you man up and just tell me what the fuck you're mad about?" "You!" His face shop out of his hands, and though you couldn't see his eyes through his mask you could feel the eye contact. "You were there all night! Flirting with that guy like you flirt with me!" Your eyes widened and you jumped slightly at his yelling. You chuckled, your face still holding fear as you tried to find some humor in the now serious aura that surrounded you both. "W-What?" "That guy, at the party! You left me by the bathrooms and when I went to find you, you were with him. Laughing and flirting all night with your stupid arm around his stupid waist!" "Peter I-" "You called him honeybee..." His voice got quieter and you swear he sounded like he was about to cry. "What?-" "I thought I was the only one you called that but I guess not," he shrugged and turned from you. Suddenly feeling extremely guilty, you reached out towards him. You didn't mean to make him feel this way at all. "Ho-Peter.." Grabbing his hand you felt your heart throb as he ripped it out of your grasp. "No! It's too late now, doesn't matter alright? Let's just finish patrols." He stood quickly and you followed, grabbing his arm before he could swing off. "No it's not too late, Pete I'm sorry!" He shook himself out of your grasp but made no attempt to move. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this...honeybee," you grabbed his arm again and though he tensed he soon relaxed at your touch. "If I had known I-" You sighed, "I care about you Peter, probably more than I should." The nerves building from what you were confessing made you want to puke but still you pushed on, pulling up your mask so that he could see how sincere you were being. "I've liked you for a while but I was a little scared to commit," You swallowed thickly as you suddenly found it hard to form words. "I never meant to hurt you h-" "You like me?" Your eyes shot back to his at the sound of his voice and you nodded, "Yeah," you chuckled awkwardly, "I-I know it's a bit-" The feeling of lips on your own cut you off and you had to stop yourself from stumbling back at the force. "Sorry!" Peter spoke, pulling back from your face, his mask now pulled up to his nose.

You blinked, trying desperately wrap your head around what happened. "I shouldn't have-" "It's fine honeybee," You laughed, covering your face with your hand as you finally found the humor you were searching for earlier. "just- a warning next time would be better." Peter laughed with you, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. Even with the darkness of the night it was clear that he was blushing. "C-could we try that again?" He asked and you swallowed your giggles with a nod.

Slower this time, you both leaned in consensually, breathing deeply as your lips finally collided. Your hands found their way to Peters half covered cheek as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. All of your pent of feelings were shared in this moment as you kissed Peter deeper. You pulled away from each other, foreheads pressed together as Peter caught his breath, your kryptonian heritage making the lack of oxygen not as bad.

"I love you honeybee."

"I love you too."

----!----

( god help me I'm so stressed )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

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Masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #tasm peter parker x male reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman x reader #x male reader #male reader #x reader #fanfiction #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker imagine #prismuffin

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erule · 2 years

Note

can I request prompt 9 with tasm! Peter Parker. The genre can be fluff with exes to lovers again trope pretty please <3

Can’t keep my distance | p.p.

Pairing: Tasm!Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Peter comes to you for help, but he doesn’t know how painful it is for you to even look at him.

Warnings: fluff, exes to lovers again, reader is a mind reader and was evil in the past, Gwen is Peter’s girlfriend (but no cheating), angst, jealous reader, mention of wounds

Word count: 620

A/N: hi! This story participates to my 2.2K followers celebration party. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Hope y’all like it. Enjoy! X Thanks for the request!! Sorry for the long waiting. You’ll find the prompt written in bold: “Stop doing that or I’m gonna kiss you right now”.

You often wonder what would have happened if you wouldn’t have broken up with Peter in the past. Sure, you did it to protect him from your past since you trusted the wrong people, but now that they’re in prison and you’ve paid for your debts, there’s no reason to keep your distance from him. Except for the fact that he’s got a girlfriend. You couldn’t have predicted it, even if you have the power to read people’s minds. To be fair, you wouldn’t use it on Peter anyway.

There were times when you wanted to call him, but stopped in time. There were days when his absence weighed on you like a boulder. Sometimes you even wanted to tear your heart out of your chest and throw it away. There were days when you saw him kissing with Gwen, feeling her lungs burn, but you resisted. Now, however, seeing him helpless as he wanders around your house barefoot seems cruel to you.

"Why did you come to me for help?"

“Because you don’t ask questions,” he says, while wearing a new T-shirt, since his costume was covered in blood. “Usually”. His sarcastic response doesn’t amuse you.

“I patched you up, I gave you some clothes, now you can go come back to your girlfriend. She’s probably worried about you”.

“So you’re kicking me out?”

“I don’t wanna help you, Peter. I’m out of the game, after everything that happened. It’s the reason we broke up in the first place. You didn’t want me to be evil”.

“I want you to be by my side, the good guys’ one,” he says, determined, standing in front of you, in your bedroom. This is too much.

“This is not right,” you say, shaking your head, heading to your bed. You sit on the edge of it.

“For you?”

“For Gwen”.

“Why are you suddenly so concerned about Gwen’s feelings? You didn’t even like her!” He exclaims.

“Because I was in her shoes and I know how it feels when you don’t come home in time,” you say, tears burning on the corners of your eyes. You don’t want to go further.

“I’m not coming home to her, tonight”.

“Why?”

“It’s not your problem anymore. Tell me why you don’t want to work with me. Is it because you’re scared of them?”

“I’m scared of me!” You shout and the vulnerability makes you read his mind involuntarily.

We broke up. We broke up. We broke up.

Peter looks at you as if he knows that you read his mind without his consent. He doesn’t seem furious, though.

“You’re afraid of what you could do in my presence, aren’t you?”

You gulp.

“Are you a mind reader too?” You ask, faking a smile.

“I just know you, I guess,” he says, coming closer to you. Your hand slips under his shirt, proving to yourself that he’s real and that you can have him again.

You graze a wound on which you applied a band-aid and he grimaces in pain.

"Does it still hurt you?" You ask him.

“Yeah, but I feel better”.

“You should sit down”.

“Stop doing that,” he says, with a serious tone of voice but a playful sparkle in his eyes.

“Doing what?”

“Worrying about me,” he replies. “Stop doing that or I’m gonna kiss you right now”.

You smile on his lips, whispering: “Well, maybe you should”.

That’s exactly when he embraces you into his arms and kisses you, fiercely, passionately, desperately. You can tell that he missed you as much as you missed him. You caress his cheek, letting finally your gaze to belong with him again. He’s smiling at you.

Now looking at him is not painful anymore.

#andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew garfield x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #2.2k followers celebration party #erule's masterlist #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker drabble #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #peter parker headcanon

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voiddrop · 2 years

Note

Peter Parker with handholding 12, and Kisses 36 + 40 🥺🥺

Send me a request for Peter Parker or Spencer Reid with prompts from this list!

18+ please! I know who sent this so I made it spicy and horny just for you bb~

The overstimulation is enough to make tears pool in your eyes as they roll back, something Peter notices immediately and chuckles softly at. The sound low and deep. “You’re so cute,” He murmurs as you look down and catch his eyes from his spot between your legs. He squeezes the hand he has possessively clutched in his own, the one he hasn’t let go of since he started going down on you, and presses a kiss to your pelvis.

“Pete, please,” You beg, voice hitching and catching in your throat as his lips make their way up. He pays special attention to your tummy, pressing feather-soft kisses to the soft skin there. An action that harshly contrasted the almost-feral way he had just been going down on you for the better part of an hour.

He spends a few minutes peppering kisses across the skin there before moving up further, mouthing at your chest before pulling back. Peter settles his weight on one elbow, pressing your joined hands into the bed by your head. “Please what, honeybee?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss away the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

His actions are dutiful, he’s focused on kissing away every spilled tear before he leans back, flashing you a truly wicked grin. “Use your words, and tell me exactly what you want.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield spider-man x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker

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biblio-smia · 1 month

Note

some fake dating with peter parker plzz<3

"Can I have your number?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, why you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm #v + peter #v writes

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flightlessangelwings · 27 days

Text

The Way We Feel When We Dance

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word count-3.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader dances, protective!Peter, harassment, Spiderman picks up reader (he has super strength but still I wanted to add this here), reader is hinted to be more curvy but it open to interpretation, fluff, feelings, Peter and reader are both adults and are at a dance club in the beginning, no use of y/n

Notes- This is a very late part 2 of my 5k follower thank you gift fics (I did one Pedro character and one non Pedro character lol). Thank you all who have been following and supporting me and my works here! While this reader is not physically described at all other than body parts, I pictured and heavily implied that she is Latina here. But it can absolutely still be read by anyone. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that as well and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

The pulse of the upbeat Latin music reverberated through the room as the lights danced in harmony with the beat. Sweaty bodies filled the dance floor that all moved to the rhythm. Feet stepped in time with the beat as hips swayed from side to side and arms shimmied with purpose. Smiles and laughter filled the air between each dancer as everyone had a fun time dancing the night away.

From the edge of the room, Peter sat at the bar. Even though the crowd, his gaze stayed solely on you. You captivated him with the way you danced to the music, carefree and beautiful. Your outfit accentuated your hips perfectly, and Peter couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

Feeling his eyes on your figure, you opened your own from when you closed them from getting lost in the music. When your gaze met his, a bright smile lit up your face, which Peter mirrored. He raised his glass up in cheers as he watched you melodically make your way across the dance floor. A tinge of heat rose across Peter’s face as you stared at him with intent as you closed the gap between your bodies.

“Why don’t you join me, Peter?” you asked in a sultry tone as you swayed your body against his.

Peter’s cheeks reddened, “You know I have two left feet, sweetheart,” he giggled, feeling like a schoolboy around you.

You smirked as you leaned in closer to murmur in his ear, “You can swing from building to building hundreds of feet in the air,” you teased, “And you’re afraid to dance in public?”

“It’s not the same,” he retorted playfully as he nudged your side. Peter’s gaze dropped down to where your hips still swayed from side to side in a slow, lazy rhythm, “Besides, I’m enjoying my view right now.”

“Oh come on, Pete,” you pleaded as you slid your hand in his, “Here I’ll start off with an easy one. It’s three steps, I think you can handle it.”

“But…”

“Come on, babe!” Your instance was firm yet light-hearted. You knew if he truly didn’t want to dance, he would stop you, and you wouldn’t force it. Sometimes, your boyfriend just needed a little encouragement. And besides, you really wanted to feel his arms around you and the two of you danced together to the beat of the music, letting the rest of the world fade away…

Peter’s nervous giggle got drowned out by the music as he allowed you to guide him back to the dance floor. With all his strengths as Spiderman, Peter knew that you were his ultimate weakness, and he couldn’t deny you anything even if he wanted to. So, he could put his insecurities aside for the night and dance with you. Besides, holding you close as you lost yourselves in the music wasn’t a terrible thought…

“Put your arms on my waist,” you instructed once you found a spot on the dance floor with some space to move.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned widely as he did so.

You rolled your eyes for a moment, but let out a soft gasp when you felt his tight grip on your body. It made your heart pound more than the dancing did as the warmth and security of his embrace engulfed you, and you lost yourself for a moment. It was only your name in Peter’s voice that brought you back, “Right,” you met his eyes as you placed your hands on his shoulders, “Ok, watch me and do what I do in reverse.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded as his gaze slowly ran down your body. He took the opportunity to study your outfit and how good it looked on you up close, and he memorized every inch of your figure.

“Like this,” you started slowly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you stepped to the rhythm in a simple motion, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,” you stepped back and first, side to side as your hips shimmied to the music.

Peter tried his best to keep up, but under your lead, he found he quickly fell into the rhythm.

“That’s it!” you exclaimed as you started to pick up your pace to better match the beat that played around you.

Laughter erupted from Peter as he felt himself get lost in the music too. The Latin beat that played highlighted your movements as the two of you danced together, wrapped in each other’s arms. A grin of your own lit up your face as your lips parted in a wide smile and you started to add more flair to your movements.

Peter was captivated. He almost forgot to move as he watched you lose yourself in the music. You looked so beautiful like this, and Peter counted himself the luckiest man in the world to get to have you, to get to be with you. A stupid smile lit up his face as he lost the rhythm on the song that played from being too enthralled with you.

Until…

“Ow!” you exclaimed as you suddenly stopped dancing.

“Sorry!” Peter realized what the problem was: he was so focused on you that he accidentally stepped on your foot, “Sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated as he caressed your shoulders, “You alright?”

“I”m fine,” you waved it off with a laugh. Feeling his grip on you, suddenly the music faded away and your world became just Peter. The way he held you and the way he looked at you made your heart flip in your chest, and you found that you didn’t care about your night out of dancing anymore.

Sending the change in your demeanor, and knowing that look on your face, he leaned in close and murmured, “Wanna get out of here?” Peter’s tone was low, rumbling against your ear and sending a chill down your spine. He placed a light, playful kiss on the tip of your nose while he was so close to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing exactly what he meant and wanting that exact same thing.

This time, it was Peter who slid his hand in yours and led you away. You followed willingly and eagerly as you couldn’t help but giggle. No one had ever made you feel the way Peter did, and finding him was the best thing that ever happened to you.

And Peter felt the exact same way about you.

The cool air made you dizzy for a moment as the door to the outside opened. You let out a sigh as you adjusted to the feeling of the New York night air on your skin, and it became a welcome relief from the heat inside.

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Great,” you answered, “Let’s go home.”

Peter smiled as he led you away from the club and into the busy night streets. New York truly never slept, and even late into the night, it was full of life and hustle and bustle. It was just as crowded outside as it was inside as you and Peter made your way down the long streets of the city. You felt safe, though, with your hand firmly in Peter’s.

But, you didn’t make it far before a group of men sneered at you as you passed by them. You felt their pointed gazes before Peter noticed them and you shuffled yourself closer to him. As the two of you walked by, they blew kisses at you and yelled obscene nicknames.

“Hey baby!” one of them shouted, “Why don’t you drop that little shrimpy boy and I’ll show you what a real man can do?”

The other man laughed as they all started to follow close behind.

Peter frowned as he pulled you in closer, tightening his grip on you, “I’ve got you,” he whispered to you, “Come on,” he turned down another street, hoping to lose the men in the crowd and avoid the situation escalating.

You let out a whine as you put your trust in him. Easily, you figured out that Peter wanted to use the crowd as a cover, but you stayed glued to his side still. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that the men weren’t deterred and still tailed close behind you.

“Peter…”

“I know, I…”

He was cut off when a drunk couple bumped into the two of you, knocking you out of Peter’s grasp. You yelped as you found yourself separated from him, and over the noise of the crowd, you heard him call out your name.

“Peter!” you shouted back, trying to find him.

It was no use, though, and before you could blink, you found yourself alone. Not completely alone, though, as the group of men somehow found you after you got pushed away. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you turned and ran in the opposite direction. You could find Peter later, right now your first priority was losing these guys.

You made turn after turn trying to shake them, but it was no use. No matter where you went, the men were close behind, and they were catching up to you. And they continued to taunt you while they did so.

“Come on, sweet girl,” one leered, “We won’t hurt you.”

“Too badly,” another cackled darkly.

“Just give us a chance, pretty girl,” another pleaded in an insincere voice.

You whimpered as you tried to look for Peter in the crowd again, but to no avail, “Peter…” you hissed, “Dammit.” Lost in your panic, you didn’t notice that you turned into a dead end alley until you were face to face with a brick wall. “Shit,” your hands trembled as you turned around and saw that the men followed you, trapping you in the alley.

“It’s ok sweetheart,” one of them said in a voice that sent a chill down your spine, “We’ll take good care of you.”

Looking down at the ground, you saw a loose brick that fell out of the wall. You picked it up and threw it in the men’s direction, “Stay back!” you warned as the men easily ducked out of the way of the flying brick.

The men just laughed as they reached out for you. Having no other options, you closed your eyes and held your breath, anticipating the feeling of their rough hands on your body. But, it never came.

A twip from above whirled through the air, and the ball of webbing hit the hand of the man closest to you. He was knocked back, and his hand was pinned to the wall, stuck with the webbing.

“Didn’t anyone teach you boys that when a woman says “no” that you leave her alone?” a voice rang from above.

You opened your eyes and looked up, breathing a huge sigh of relief, “Spiderman!” you exhaled as he flipped down from his perch and stood in front of you, blocking the men.

“Spiderman!?” the other men clamored, “We weren’t doing nothing, we just…”

“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” he replied as he flicked his wrist, sending more webbing to the other men.

They all clamored as they tried to fight back, throwing punches that missed the webslinger over and over again. Spiderman easily avoided their punches and with just a few more flicks of his wrist, was able to catch all of them in his net. The men grunted and cursed as they found themselves stuck to either the wall or the ground, unable to move.

“Damn, you Spiderman!” one cried out.

“Fucking cockblock!” shouted another angrily.

Spiderman ignored them and turned to you, “You alright?” he asked in a softer tone.

“I am now,” you replied breathlessly as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Want a lift out of here?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

Feeling more at ease, a smile grace your face, “I’d love one.”

“I’m gonna pick you up now,” his voice was soothing to you as he extended his arms out.

You nodded.

Spiderman stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you, lifting you off the ground with his superhuman strength. He paused and turned to the men who pursued you and said, “This is how you ask a lady out,” he sniped, “You should try asking nicely next time.” he added before he flicked his wrist and launched himself and you up and away.

Normally, you were too scared whenever Peter carried you through the city like this. But, after what almost happened, you were too preoccupied to notice more than the cool air in your face and the tight grip around your body. You buried yourself in the crook of his neck as you tightened your own grip on Peter as he flung you between the tall buildings of New York and towards the tiny apartment you both shared.

In no time, Peter made it to your window, opening it from the outside and setting you down carefully and gently. He hurriedly closed it before turning back around to face you, ripping his mask off in one swift motion as he closed the gap between your bodies.

“Are you ok?” he asked in a panic, “Did they hurt you?” Peter’s hand landed on your shoulders as he looked you over for any cuts or marks as he finally allowed himself to feel scared for you.

“I’m ok, Peter,” you replied back, your own voice sounding distant, “You found me just in time.”

Peter’s eyes locked with your for a moment before he dropped to the ground on his knees before you. He started to sob as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in cose, burying his face in your midsection, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he choked out between cries.

Tears of your own filled your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned over, covering him as you both held each other, “Don’t be sorry, Peter,” you whispered, “You saved me. I know you’ll always save me.”

He couldn’t help but cry harder at your words as he tightened his grip on you, “When we got separated,” he started, pausing to catch his breath, “I was so scared,” Peter confessed, “I was so scared something would happen to you… And I wouldn’t find you in time…”

“Hey,” you wiggled your way down to join him on the floor, “Look at me, Peter,” you cupped his face, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you looked into his red eyes, “You will always save me, Peter Parker. I know you will. I trust you with everything I am.”

Truthfully, you were just as scared as Peter was. The moment you were separated, you lost your security, your safe place. And while you had faith in him- you always did- that fear was still there. But right now, you had to be there for him, since he was already there for you.

Another tear rolled down Peter’s cheek, and you used your thumb to wipe it away. He whispered your name as he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your touch under his skin. It was a comfort, and anchor, and Peter knew he had to trust you just as much as you trusted him. He saved you tonight. And he would always save you. That was his promise to you.

“Peter…” you breathed his name as you closed the gap between your faces, pressing your lips to his.

It felt like an explosion of fireworks between your bodies as you connected as one. Passions quickly arose as Peter clung to you and deepened the kiss, tasting you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed him back just as passionately and tightened your grip on him.

Heat rose in the room as suddenly you both had one thing on your minds. The need to feel each other, to get tangled together and lost in the other, was overwhelming. With only breaking away for quick moments to undress each other, you and Peter clumsily made your way to the bed, stripping each other and kissing wherever you could reach along the way.

By the time your legs hit the edge of the bed, you and Peter were both bare for each other. He grabbed onto you in an attempt to land you underneath him as he leaned your bodies towards the mattress. But, you surprised him. You grabbed onto his torso and turned your bodies around so that by the time you hit the bed, you straddled overtop of Peter.

“Wow,” he murmured as his eyes trailed across your naked body on top of him. Peter’s hands caressed up and down your sides, feeling every dip and curve of your body, memorizing every inch of you with his hands.

“Wow yourself,” you snickered back as you bit your lip and enjoyed the sight of Peter, your Peter, in between your legs.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his pecs, giving them a soft squeeze as you rocked your hips along his. Both of you hissed and mewled as your folds ran along his hardening cock. Jolts of electricity ran up your spine with every movement, and you felt the way his cock twitched in anticipation underneath your hips.

Peter let out a curse as his hands dug into your hips. And he only groaned louder when you lifted yourself up to line up your entrance with his cock. Normally, Peter liked to take his time with you, kissing you all over and worshiping your body before he entered you. But today was different. Today, you were both too needy, too desperate to feel each other that neither of you could wait any longer.

You let out a gasp as the tip of his length pushed past your first ring of muscle and started to stretch you out. Slowly, you lowered yourself along his length, letting Peter fill you up inch by inch as your hips moved closer to his. Peter’s own groans harmonized with your moans as he felt your warmth engulf him.

“Fuck…” Peter whispered in awe when your hips met his and he felt your muscles clench around him. He moaned your name as he tightened his grip on your body and fought to keep his eyes open; Peter didn’t want to miss a second of how beautiful you looked.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you rolled your hips forward, feeling Peter’s cock inside you. You squeezed his pecs harder as you started to bounce up and down. Feeling bubbled over as you rode Peter’s cock so that they were almost physically palpable between the two of you.

Moving faster, you heard your skin slap against Peter’s as you felt every inch of him inside you. Heat rose in the room as you both clung to the other. Emotions drove you as your tights screamed at you the longer you lifted and lowered yourself onto him. But, Peter helped you. He used his strength to guide your hips along his cock, along his body. He never lessened his grip on you as he slid his hands to the soft mounds of your ass to help you and feel you more.

Peter lost the battle with his eyes, and they finally closed to allow himself to get lost in you. A louder groan echoed from deep with him as he felt your warmth and your tightness envelope him over and over again. And Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept riding him like this.

In a flash, Peter’s eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you. Before you could register his movements, you suddenly found yourself on your back as Peter flipped your bodies over so that he covered you.

“Peter…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he grunted as he leaned forward, driving his cock even deeper into you as his forehead touched yours.

All you could do was moan as a shiver ran up your spine. Peter’s cock hit that sweet spot inside you with precision, and you felt like your body was floating as he started drilling into you at a fast and desperate pace. “Fuck!” you cried out as your body began to tremble.

Peter snaked his hand up the sheet and took yours as he continued to rock into you over and over again. You took his hand, holding it tightly as you felt his breath against the skin on your face. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the overwhelming emotions, and you could feel ones from Peter as well.

Peter groaned your name over and over again with every thrust of his hips as he held your hand as tightly as he possibly could.

“Peter… I’m gonna cum…” you gasped.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he words were strained from how breathless he was, “Cum with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

“Pete!” you cried out as more tears fell down your cheeks as your entire body tingled. As you were about to let out a loud cry with your climax, Peter’s lips suddenly covered yours, muffling your screams.

His own groans and grunts were muffled as well as he felt his own peak hit at the same time as yours. Peter’s eyes shut tightly as he kissed you deeply while he spilled himself into you. He could feel every muscle in your body clench around him as you came hard on his cock, and your moans reverberated within him as he kept his lips on yours.

Peter kept up his pace as long as he could, riding out every ounce of both your climaxes until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. With one final thrust of his hips, Peter finally broke the kiss as he pulled out of you and collapsed down next to you with a loud huff. You exhaled deeply as you caught your breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Together, the two of you laid sprawled out next to each other on the bed, letting yourself recover from that whirlwind of passions.

Neither of you were sure who moved first, but you both instinctively reached out for each other, wrapping yourself up in a pretzel of limbs as you held each other close. You kissed his skin wherever you could, and Peter did the same to you, peppering feather light kisses on your body. As your heartbeats both came down to normal, a comfort washed over both of you. Feeling each other cose like this, knowing you were both here, made you know that everything was ok. You were ok. He was ok.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you, sweetheart,” Peter broke the silence, “No matter what. Your safety always comes first,” he said as he squeezed you tightly.

“I know you will, Peter,” you whispered back as you kissed his skin, “I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.”

“You always will be,” he sounded more distant, as if sleep started to take him over.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

He smiled, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You were quiet for a few moments before you grinned against his chest, “Next time we go out dancing, let’s leave the action for the dance floor instead of the streets.”

Peter joined your laughter as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, “I was thinking the same thing.”

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areaderinlove · 2 years

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kinktober

alr yall ik i have some requests that i still didn’t make but i want to participate as much as i can in kinktober even though october is going to be shit cause i have reset exams but anyways give me your request and lemme tell you ill do my best

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 1 year

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Teardrops On My Guitar

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘'I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night.’

Notes - Making my way through Taylor Swift’s albums so if you want a fic for any song that I haven’t done yet send me a message!🤎

Click here to see which songs I’ve already done and which songs are free!

Click here to see who I write for!

For as long as you could remember it had always been you and Peter, other friends came and went throughout the years but you and Peter had always been a constant in each other’s lives. You had gone through everything together, when your family’s business went bankrupt and you had to live with the Parker’s for a few months, when Peter’s parents died and he had chosen you to run away to. Every big moment, every little moment, no matter the memory Peter was almost always in it.

You never thought you’d have to imagine a life without Peter, it always seemed such an impossible thought. You were the best of friends, there were no secrets between either of you, you told each other everything.

Which was great for years, it worked well for the two of you, you knew the other better than you knew yourself. It was nice knowing you always had someone to confide in, no problem too big or small to share.

And yet now you hated the fact that nothing was kept a secret between the two of you, you hated the fact that you meet up with Peter every day before school, hated that it was so easy to forget that the rest of the world existed, right up until you walked through the doors and his gaze immediately sought her out.

Gwen Stacy.

Gwen Stacy who was top of every class, Gwen Stacy who was so stunningly beautiful you just knew you couldn’t ever even begin to compete with her. You didn’t stand a chance, not when you saw the way Peter looked at her, his expression completely softening, the way his lips pulled into an unconscious smile every time she walked into a room, the way he couldn’t walk into one without glancing around for her.

You didn’t stand a chance.

And because there were no secrets between you and Peter you got to hear all about his crush on her when he remembered you existed. Ok, so maybe that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t like Peter shut down on you whenever she was around but he always had an eye on her.

You and Peter always walked home together, usually hanging around in his bedroom since Aunt May was at work so it left the two of you alone. You didn’t know if you loved the alone time or hated it.

You couldn’t even remember when your own crush on Peter had developed, maybe it had always been there, there before you even really knew what a crush was, before you knew anything about relationships or love or any of those things. Maybe it had developed when you had a bad day and Peter was always there with open arms and ready to make a fool of himself if only to see you laugh again. Maybe it was in the way that there really wasn’t any distance between the two of you, whether it be with no secrets or the way you could crawl into the other's bed after sneaking in through the window and the other person didn’t react other than to make room and wrap their arms around the other. Maybe it was all the little things that seemed so insignificant to other people but you treasured so deeply that made you fall for him so easily.

It didn’t really matter when it happened though, only that it did. It happened and it hurt every day. You couldn’t even get a break on the weekends because whenever Peter came around Gwen always seemed to be the first topic on his lips.

And it wasn’t like you could say anything either, you couldn’t just demand he stop talking about her. Not without admitting you had feelings for him anyway and that wasn’t going to happen, not when you knew he didn’t feel anything for you. You would just have to sit and listen to him talk about her for hours at a time because you loved him and you couldn’t lose your friendship.

Still it hurt. It hurt when he asked you what you think he should do, how could he get her to notice him, what date ideas should he think of to ask her out. The worst of it was that you loved him so much you couldn’t even bring yourself to give him bad ideas, whenever he asked for your advice you gave him the best you could, gave answers you wished Peter would do for you, and you watched him use them on her.

You had gotten pretty good at faking a smile now around Peter, at pretending everything was ok until you were alone and you could let the hurt just hurt. It was so easy to picture you and Peter together too, nothing would change except the fact you’d know how his lips felt against yours, how his hand cupping your cheek to bring you closer would feel.

It didn’t matter how much you wanted to cry, not when you had to fake a laugh at his over dramatic love declarations that caused him to grin as he shoved you lightly, it didn’t matter because no matter how many damn stars you wished on nothing would change.

Sometimes you thought Peter knew, how could he not know that he was the reason you stayed up all night thinking about him, how could he not know that the reason for your tears was him, how was he so blind to the way you looked at him? If it were anybody else you’d think they knew but Peter wasn’t cruel, if he knew he wouldn’t be torturing you so much.

If you had thought things between you and Peter were hard when he was just pining after Gwen it was nothing compared to when he finally put all your advice to use and ended up getting together with her.

It was slow at first, you still saw Peter every day, still walked home together after school but over time it turned into less time together. You walked home together but after a few weeks Gwen joined you and you hated how kind she was, it’d be easier to hate her if she wasn’t so nice. Then it turned into you going straight home, not wanting to third wheel on them, not when it meant more time watching Peter look at Gwen like she was his whole world and you had somehow become nothing more than a passing thought, silently pleading for Peter to notice you.

It wasn’t much longer after that the time you and Peter spent together got less and less, no more hanging out after school, no more weekends together, no more sneaking into each other’s houses, no more sharing every thought that popped into your head.

That’s what hurt the most, the thing that left you crying silently to yourself each night. Peter had forgotten all about you and your heart hurt, it hurt so badly that you just wished you could stop feeling anything. It wasn’t even just Peter’s fault though, you wanted to blame him for it all but you were to blame too, you pulled away but Peter hadn’t caught you and pulled you back.

You hoped Gwen knew, you hoped she knew how lucky she was that she was the one that got to fall asleep in Peter’s arms, the safest place you’d ever been. You hope she knew how lucky she was that Peter had picked her to love, you hoped she would love him just as fiercely as he loved her, hoped she knew how lucky she was to be able to fall into those beautiful brown eyes and to know how his lips felt as he kissed her so softly like she was something to be treasured.

You really hoped she knew because you would never know.

Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -

@haroldpotterson, @rottenstyx, @powerpuffluuvv, @filmsbyblair, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @chaoticevilbakugo, @ppgrayson, @onyourgoddamnleft, @divanca2006, @siriuslyfearless, @levisbloodcut, @alwaysclassyeagle, @asherhunterx, @ordinarylokix, @carmellasworld, @ellabellabus07, @lokismidnight, @maeve-7, @benhardyslut, @apolysius, @jasontoddthezombie, @instabull, @qfton, @honkroselyn, @inflatabledinosaurs19, @father-violet, @rosesinmars, @mystic-writings, @izzyyy-1, @lizamango, @beaconings, @randomwriter1021, @taylordidsomthingbad, @kaitieskidmore1, @aylauwuuniverse, @hydeonysus, @freeshavocadoooo, @writeroutoftime, @mrslizzyolsen, @kosmic-klouds, @idli-dosa, @allthingsmarvellove, @inas-thing, @xxchaotic, @standarizedpumpkins, @ukai-hoe, @lucyysthings , @cwritesforfun, @siriusstwelveyears, @daisyfreshwhore, @myguiltypleasures21, @luluwinchester, @polyglot-noodle, @bubsonnobx, @heyitsaloy, @eddiefreakingmunson, @eddiefrickenmunson, @f-sant, @fairydxll, @valluvsu, @sjprongs, @uwiuwi, @bookfrog242, @ellablossom-blog, @alexparkxr, @instabull, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @momoewn, @secretsthathauntus, @clairemsworld, @psychicbouquetgladiator, @evvy96, @pedritoswife, @iluvweasleys, @navs-bhat, @nashja, @alexxavicry, @annabellefrances1, @myeyesandheartadjust, @countryday, @pretty-npeach, @harry-and-ouis28, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @definitelykyles, @handsupforamiracle, @nao1800, @imposter-27, @hoplessromantic17, @father-violet, @lunalovegood156

Thank you so much for reading!💛

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liz-allyn · 1 year

Text

sugar and vice, pt 4 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Honey wakes up to a new life.

words: 5.8 k

warning: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. drugging. threats of violence. coersion. kidnapping. traumatic flashbacks. violence. blood. shameless forced proximity trope. imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions.

you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if your parents aren't harboring a several hundred dollars-worth stash of beanie babies that are worth maybe $1 today, then this is not your jam.

Back to Part 3

Part 4

When her eyes cracked open, she was staring at a chandelier made from antlers. She blinked several times, noticing that the ceiling was different from any of Peter’s other rooms. She was gazing up at a vaulted A-frame ceiling with exposed redwood beams. The peak of the frame opened to a glass wall where sunkissed blue-green needles of giant Eastern white pine trees billowed.

She groggily sat upright, realizing she was nowhere near the familiar Boroughs of the city. Her limbs felt heavy. Once again, she was alone and buried in another heavenly-soft bed. She was in a bedroom, but it featured no personal touches. It could’ve been a hotel room, or a vacation rental.

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and her bare feet touched the floor. She shuddered at how warm it was. Heated floors. A very, very expensive vacation rental.

Rubbing her dry eyes, she made her way to a closed door. It opened to a loft balcony, which overlooked the living room of a massive, two-story modern cabin. She gawked at the floor-to-ceiling windows, her breath catching in her throat at the splash of greens, yellows, and oranges from the trees lining the house. Beyond the thick treeline, she could see the smoky blue haze of a mountain range in the distance.

She stood dumbstruck, like Dorothy emerging from her tornado-tossed house.

Not in Queens anymore, was all she could think.

“You’re awake,” his voice echoed from the lower level.

She glanced down at Peter, hands in his jean pockets, wearing a thick cable-knit sweater. He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye, one that made her fret over the state of her bedhead. She felt ridiculous up on the balcony, like someone would start the monologue from Romeo and Juliet.

She bit her lip, pulling her eyes away. No good could come from seeing him as a Romeo. Even if he easily looked the part.

“So...” she began awkwardly, her cheeks flushed by his gaze. “Are we at Disney World or something? Did we check into the Wilderness Lodge?” She studied the rustic-meets-mid-century modern furnishings, idly rubbing the lace sleeves of her blouse. Her leather jacket had been removed and she honestly didn’t know how she felt about that.

“Sorry, Honey,” he said with a soft laugh that made her stomach weak. “No Mouse here. No gators either.”

Her cheeks pinched into a smile, before she remembered how she got there. The previous day’s events— Had it only been a day? How long was she out?— hit her like a truck. Her grin faded as she recalled her kidnapping. Her abduction. Her shameful, subservient soak in a stranger’s bathtub, followed by a dreary, restless slumber in his sheets. She’d been fed and given a good wash, like a stray dog. Dressed in clothes she could never afford. And had been drugged and taken to—

“Where are we?” she sharply questioned, anxiety chilling her tone.

Whatever smile Peter wore faded. “Not in Orlando,” he bit off.

He turned his back to her and crossed the enormous but cozy living room. Returning to his previous task, he crouched down in front of a soapstone, wood-burning stove in the corner of the room. He pulled the logs loose from a small bundle of firewood, and began loading it into the stove’s iron frame.

Frustrated, she huffed, glaring at the back of his head. Wondering what she was supposed to do.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Wherever here is?”

“Well, I’m building a fire,” he gave a haughty reply. “I’ve already tested the fuses, turned everything on, unpacked, changed clothes, and made coffee in the kitchen.”

“So you do know how to make it,” she muttered under her breath, sarcasm dripping from her mouth. It was quiet enough that there was no way he could’ve heard it.

“Lemme know if you want a taste,” he coyly replied, and it made her question whether or not he had.

He hadn’t looked at her when he said it, and she was grateful because the innuendo was making her stomach flip. “I’m good.” She cursed the fact that her voice sounded more like a squeak.

“Well, since you’re wide awake,” he countered, in a teasing way that sounded too much like flirting. “Lemme show you ‘round the house.” He came to a stand, brushing the dirt and wood fibers from his hands. She found herself staring at the way his large palms glided across one another.

It triggered the memory of those hands on her waist as he helped her into the bathtub. As he dressed her wounds. As he cradled her in his arms as he carried her away from her captors. As he cupped her face, wiping away tears, shielding her from the sight of a bloodied man who likely was dead because of her.

A chill went down her spine, her arms hugging herself tighter. “Maybe later,” she frowned, tucking her chin to her chest.

Silence settled for several seconds before she peeked at him from beneath her downturned brows.

He considered her with pursed lips, silently observing. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. She bit her lip, and for a moment, she expected to hear another thinly-veiled insistence.

“Okay,” was his calm reply. It surprised her. “But do me a favor instead. Go put on some hiking boots.”

“Hiking boots? I don’t have any—”

“They’re in the closet of the room you were in,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Grab a coat too. Meet me in the kitchen in five.”

Without waiting for a reply, he strolled away. Once again, she had no room to protest.

When she opened the closet door in the room she assumed was ‘hers,’ she found a decent, walk-in space with rows of clothes hung up. She found a pair of leather hiking boots that looked brand new, in a cubby space next to 18 pairs of other shoes for a variety of occasions and seasons.

Curiously, she checked the size. She was surprised to find that whoever she was borrowing these from had similarly small feet. Looking up, she spotted a lightweight puff jacket— Patagonia, of course— hanging up among the other articles of clothing. With a sigh, she pulled down the coat and checked the size. Another lucky match. She felt odd putting on someone else’s clothes. An uncomfortable thought crossed her mind— how many women had Peter brought to this cabin?

It was a thought she didn’t like.

When she traveled downstairs, fully dressed, she found the kitchen. She could tell he had a particular style, not too far removed from the one in the penthouse she’d observed earlier. A Scandinavian take on rustic. Immaculately organized open shelving. Spotless stainless steel.

Curiously, she opened the fridge. There were a few groceries. Eggs, milk, sliced cheese, lunchmeat, orange and apple juice. It was a lot of empty space save for a few basic condiments in the door. Mustard that had exceeded its “best by” date by several months.

The more she studied the kitchen and its contents, the more information she gathered about the man currently occupying it.

An extravagant house in the mountains with breathtaking views. A kitchen worthy of Thanksgiving Dinner and every holiday celebration of the year.

Barren. Untouched. Lonely.

A few minutes later, Peter approached with the handle of a small cooler in his grip. A backpack thrown over his shoulder. She curled a brow at him.

“Sure you don’t want any coffee before we go?” he asked. “I’ve got a tumbler if you wanna take it to go.”

“Where are we going?” she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged his shoulders, a half-smile on his face. To her astonishment, he seemed...excited? Like a teenager going on a camping trip.

“Hiking,” he shrugged, like he was keeping a surprise.

She stared at him like he had grown an extra arm.

“You’ll get a chance to break those in,” Peter added, pointing at her shoes. “‘Sides, it’ll be fun.” He reached into his backpack, inspecting the contents, mentally going through a silent checklist. She hadn’t moved a muscle when he looked back up at her.

“We outta get goin,’” he explained, disagreeing with her lack of hustle. “Sun’ll set in a few hours.”

She stared. Unnerved. Swallowed hard. She picked up her boot slowly, as if it was lined with concrete.

He started shuffling towards the door, before pausing and turning back to her. “Oh, one more thing,” he added. He locked eyes with her, smile never fading. “Lose the knife.”

She blinked. Her heart skipped. He watched her, eyes piercing like a hawk.

“Y’know,” he nodded nonchalantly, “the one you took from the butcher’s block?”

Her pulse started racing as she gazed blankly at him, rendered motionless. He jerked his head towards the butcher’s block on the counter, acknowledging that he noticed one of the knives was missing.

With wide guilty eyes, she glanced at the block, then back at him.

“Go on. Put it back.”

She felt like he was staring at her forever. Every second that passed, his eyes got darker. More challenging. More dangerous.

Eyes on the ground, she crept slowly back to the block on the counter. Pulling up her shirt, she retrieved the 8-inch steel butcher’s knife tucked in the waist of her jeans. She slid it back in its proper place, then turned towards him. Trepidatiously, she lifted her eyes off the ground. Peeking up at him, afraid of his wrath.

What she found was his eyes locked on her, a satisfied little smirk on his lips. He gazed at her with an expression that was either affectionate or amused. Either way, he made it clear that she was practically powerless in this situation. She posed no threat.

“Good girl,” he appraised, before turning and heading out of the kitchen door. “Follow me.”

The hike through the woods was quiet, but not tense. At least not on his part. Peter led her on a path through a thick grove of trees. She was still shaken by being confronted about the knife. It was obviously a shock to her, but not to him. She couldn’t know that his observation skills were sharpened by years of people trying to stab him in the back, and not just metaphorically.

The trail was solid with only a few patches of mud. Luckily, the weather had been ideal for his plans. It wasn’t wet, or too terribly cold, especially with the sun positioned where it was. The increased blood circulation from the gradual upward climb helped. There was snow in the forecast but it wouldn’t start until tomorrow morning. They were lucky enough to enjoy one of the last days of fall before the winter would sink its teeth in.

Luck was not something he was used to, but he always seemed to find it with her.

Peter felt his own heart begin to beat faster, but not due to physical exertion. He dragged his hand through his hair. His palms were sweaty. They were getting close.

“Almost there,” he announced, trying to maintain his cool. Or whatever it was he was pretending to be. Many awkward years as a teen and even more awkward conversations with women proved that he was anything but cool. He’d always been a nervous wreck. It was pure luck that he’d undergone the changes in life to be able to talk to a girl, let alone have the confidence to ask them on a date.

And here he was again, feeling like he did in high school. He didn’t really know what he was saying, probably didn’t make any sense, and had no idea how to ask such a pretty girl whatever it was he was asking.

His lack of practice was showing. It had been a long time since he felt this way about anyone.

Not since—

“Are you taking me out to the woods to kill me?” his Honey blurted out.

He stopped in his tracks, turning to her with an incredulous stare.

She stood several feet from him, ramrod straight, shoulders tense.

“Really?” he breathed. More confused than offended. “That’s what you got outta this?”

She shrugged her shoulders, with that adorable anxious look on her face—the one she’d make when the wheels in her brain were spinning, and her mouth was moving a mile a minute, and all he could do was be hypnotized by the way her lips moved. “I mean... you’re you,” she softly replied, in her defense. “What else am I supposed to think?”

He pursed his lips. The sting of her words seized his throat.

'You’re you.' He considered her meaning, heart sinking. A monster, she intended to say. He couldn’t keep the sorrow from filling his eyes and her expression changed. She looked apologetic.

It made him feel even worse. She was apologizing to him. He swallowed hard.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said sincerely. He held his chin a bit higher, and she considered his truthfulness. He turned back towards the path. “C’mon.”

Quietly, she followed.

A couple of minutes later, they arrived at a clearing next to a huge flat rock. It was from an elevated vantage point that offered a beautiful view of the valley through the trees. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the vista. With ease, he scaled the rock, setting down his backpack and the cooler.

She watched him curiously as he pulled a blanket from the backpack and began laying it out on the solid surface. Once it was flat, he began pulling items out of the cooler. She heard the rustling of plastic, staring up at him curiously. He came to a stand and leapt down to her level with surprising agility. He extended his hand to her.

“C’mon,” he beckoned. “I’ll help you up.”

His Honey hesitated, as she always did, looking up at the rock, then back at him. His smile began to falter, worrying that she would refuse. She had no reason to trust him, after all. But slowly, she took his hand. He smiled, feeling his heart soar.

He clenched her body to his, wrapping one arm around her waist. He used the hand to quickly scale up the rock again, in a move so quick and effortless it made her think he was a professional rock climber. Or a mountain goat.

He held onto her tightly when they were at the top of the rock. Like the night before in his bathroom, he found himself not wanting to let go. He stared down at her bright, beautiful eyes—soft, gentle, timid— and breathed in her air. The scent of his body wash on her skin. Mingling together in an aroma that made his heart flutter.

Sheepishly, she glanced away, not able to withstand the heat of his gaze. As if remembering what planet he was on, Peter released his grip and let her stand on her own. She looked down curiously, her eyes widening to the sight at her feet.

Peter had laid out a picnic blanket and a delicious-looking spread complete with sandwiches, fresh fruit, cookies, charcuterie, and empty champagne flutes. The small gasp she let out as she observed the meal made his stomach flip. He was excited and terrified—not sure himself how she would react to his attempted olive branch.

She blinked up at him, astonished.

He felt his tongue go dry as he stammered anxiously. “I, uh... thought we could have a late lunch?” She stared, stunned and silent. “Um,” Peter felt his fingers begin to twitch. He glanced around the space, swallowing hard. “Um, p-please... Sit.” He lowered himself onto the picnic blanket, crossing his legs like a kid. Slowly and hesitantly, she followed, mirroring his position.

He beamed at the gesture. He turned his attention back to the spread. “So, yeah—um, we got sandwiches. Uh, I did turkey, cheese, with tomato, I... I-I sorta forgot the lettuce. We can still get some though. Tomorrow, not now. Because... yeah.”

She gazed at him, her expression softening as he stumbled his way through the menu.

“Some other stuff here—crackers, salami, this sliced cheese I got at a Middle Eastern grocery. I don’t think there’s anything regionally specific about the cheese, though. I think it’s just cheddar and gouda...”

He worked to hide his flustered blush. She looked up at him with a soft gaze. He hoped she found it endearing, maybe even charming—and not like he was a dork. Which is how he felt.

He rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “Um, cookies—The good kind with the chocolate chip chunks that are really big. There’s also some raisin cookies because I accidentally grabbed them from a place thinkin’ they were chocolate chip, and then I got the chocolate chip cookies, but I had these oatmeal raisin ones, and nobody likes those when you think you’re getting chocolate chip, but maybe if... you had them... in addition to chocolate—”

He cleared his throat. Pictured the way his last serious girlfriend would grin at him when he was babbling. He relished the memory, and glanced up. She looked different. Not just in the obvious way, but not in a bad way. Her expression wasn’t judgmental, or annoyed, and she didn’t make him feel like a dork. She stared at him in silent astonishment, almost like she was marveling at him. Almost like he was worthy of her.

It made his heart flutter. “Anyway... uh... you can have whatever you want, um... I...” He swallowed hard. “Um, there’re also grapes. And, uh—” He glanced down into the cooler, his smile falling. “Shit,” he quietly muttered. “Damn it.”

“What is it?”

“The champagne,” he huffed in defeat, frustrated with himself. “I forgot the goddamn champagne.”

“Oh,” Honey said, gently. “It’s okay.”

He ran his palms down his face. “Nah, s’not okay—”

“No, really, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he groaned. “I didn’t bring anything else to drink. I-I didn’t think—”

“This is—this is great,” she emphatically replied, trying to ease the pain of his embarrassment. It was another one of her kindnesses toward him.

“No, no, no, it’s—look, I got it.” He hopped to his feet and it made her nervously stretch her arms, as if she could somehow catch him if he slipped off the rock. “Don’t worry, I-I-I got it. It’s... it’s right back at the house, I can run back real quick—”

“Seriously?” she replied. “It’s... it’s way back there? I mean, you don’t have to! I promise, I'm not even thirsty. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“No, no, no, I already laid everything out. The food’s out. It’ll just take me 2 minutes. You should dig in.”

“Wha-what? Are you sure? I can wait for you.”

“Have a cookie,” he pleaded, filled with a nervous energy that had him scurrying down the rockface. “Don’t worry, just 2 minutes. Less than! I’m gone. Already gone. Be right back!”

He took off in a frenetic jog, disappearing from her sight. She watched him, curious and confused at how he’d be able to cut down a 10-minute hike into just two.

Honey glanced back down at the appetizing spread and the thought and care that went into each detail. When did he even have time to do this? She picked at a sandwich that was cut into an elegant triangle and wrapped with cellophane. Examined it.

Then, it hit her. She glanced back at the trail, eyes wide. Peter was nowhere in sight.

He was surprised at how fast he could move through the woods, almost as quickly as he could navigate through skyscrapers. His mind was still churning over the picnic, scolding himself for forgetting something so pivotal. He grumbled about his forgetfulness, and about the awkward dissertation he decided to give about the cookies. He also neglected to bring anything else to drink. He should’ve remembered the moment she turned down coffee back at the kitchen—

He froze, dropping to the ground from the canopy. Both feet hit the dirt with a soft thud. His stomach plummeted even further.

He glanced back at the trail behind him. Where he had left his Honey.

Where minutes ago she’d questioned whether he was plotting to murder her, a thought so obscene it made him sick to his stomach.

And just a few hours before that, he’d drugged her and brought her to a location so secluded she wouldn’t even know what state she was in, not having seen a license plate.

He’d left her. Alone.

“Mother Hubbard!” he growled.

What a fucking idiot. A lovesick, bumbling dork.

At once his senses shifted into overdrive. Panic rising within him. An urgency overtook him, like a scream crawling up his throat. He was hurtling back through the air, cursing himself as he broke his body on every branch along the way.

By the time he approached the rock, he landed hard enough to crack the surface. His fears were confirmed. The picnic blanket was abandoned. The young woman was nowhere in sight.

“No, no, no, no, no…” he babbled to himself, pulling at his hair as he scanned the clearing desperately. “Honey!” His voice boomed, a crack of thunder wrapped in frustration and fury.

No reply. Not that he should expect one.

He shouldn’t expect anything.

He shouldn't expect to see her ever again—not alive, anyway.

His stomach lurched. The next time he would see her face, she’d be beaten beyond recognition. Her skull and body broken on the fists of Wilson Fisk, her blood staining the cuffs of one of his dress shirts.

“Honey!”

His second shout came out with more desperation. Breaths exploding in short bursts. The trees were spinning. His heart threatened to break out of his chest. It felt like it already had.

He dashed down the trail, eyes scouring the landscape. Senses were hyper-aware of every rustle of leaves, every snapped twig. It was too much information to take in at once.

She was gone, and he wouldn’t find her again until it was too late. Why would he think she’d stay put? Why would he think she’d stay with him a moment longer than she had to? He had her, and he lost her.

She was gone.

—stay with me, Gwen, please—

“Honey!” he screamed with a flayed voice—shrill, broken, terrified.

She had been terrified. Shaking like a leaf when he’d found her on the freezing concrete of the auto body shop. Scared of what had happened and what could happen. Scared of what Fisk’s men would do to her. Scared of what Peter would do to her.

Peter Parker, the monster.

He was trembling. He was about to cry—when had he started to cry what a fuckin’ loser— as he stared at the soft dirt and crushed leaves of the path he was on— Gwen’s broken body, spine smashed to pieces, blood spilling from her nose and eye sockets, about to be interred in the soil—searching desperately for footprints...

Katzenberg had been terrified, sputtering petty excuses through bloody lips. Half-dead, incoherent pleas. Desperate in a futile attempt to save his own life.

“It was nothin’ personal, I swear it.. I-I... It was all Kingpin’s idea—takin’ pictures... I-I-I’m not even into that sick stuff... It’s disgusting, what he wan’ed... Can’t even watch it on the internet, I gotta kid sista, y’know...”

Peter dug his nails into his palms.

Honey had been terrified.

Gwen had been terrified.

Ben had been terrified.

May had been terrified.

He was terrified. He knew Wilson Fisk and what he was capable of. Peter had seen with his own eyes the victims of Kingpin’s wrath. The gender made no difference. He left bodies destroyed.

He was going to be sick. In a fit of panic, terror and rage, he started stalking down the path, roaring out her given name.

“Your hands, Nicky,” Peter sneered as he approached his terrified captive. He was sobbing over his gag, fat tears, snot and blood streaking his face. “You put hands on a woman for the last time...”

Peter gripped the hammer tight, brought it down onto Katzenberg’s knuckles. Then he did it again. And again. And again. One for each knuckle. One for the gash on his Honey’s forehead. Eventually, he quit counting.

Peter was cupping his face, nearly dropping to his knees in the dirt. The sun would set soon. It would be dark, how would he find her in the dark? He could barely breathe. Deep breaths.

“People are so lame sometimes,” Honey gave Peter this weird little face, like she was saying ‘bleh’ and gagging simultaneously. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

They had been in one of those rare, magical moments where it was an odd hour of day and the shop was empty save for the two of them. It felt selfish, having her all to himself. Indulgent. It was an indulgence that made his mouth water.

Bright-eyed, body poised like a ballerina, she craftfully poured foam into his cup. He fell under her spell. The aroma of coffee and lavender flowed through his senses, and he felt himself relaxing as he sank deeper. Taken by the current. Longing to dive into her magic.

“Ugh, it’s the worst,” she said. Even her complaints were done with a smile. “Things get a little crazy in here—like that one time during the marathon when the street was closed down so the crowd could watch so we were just friggin’ blitzed, like DEFCON 1, and it was the Rock’n’Roll one, and y’know we’ve got that drag queen revue across the street, too—super fun by the way if you haven’t gone yet—but they constructed a stage on the street with like 100 giant speakers so that one of the queens could perform as the runners went by, and they turned the volume way up and everyone kept piling in here wanting coffee. Meanwhile I can’t hear any orders because Cher is belting it out.”

She giggled and the sound alone could break his heart. “S’anyway, that’s not the point—When it gets all crazy train in here, I just hafta close my eyes and think to myself ‘deep breaths.’ In and out.”

He took a deep breath, pulling his hands from his face. Inhaled the chilly air. Breathed in the scent of wet leaves and pine and the memory of coffee and lavender.

In and out.

In his mind, she was staring at him. Giving him that look that hurt to look at. Like staring at the sun. Burned his eyes and his soul.

He’d take that image home with him, wired from the excessive amount of caffeine, and think about it when things were too overwhelming. Whenever he felt his anger building. Or when he was showering off his sins for the day and he’d let his hand wander to the part of him that burned the most for her.

In and out. Breathe. Listen.

He felt the tingle crawl up his spine. Then he heard it: a twig snap.

Before he could see it with his eyes, the picture was in his head. He bolted in its direction just as a crack rang out overhead.

Honey was falling. She let out a squeaky shriek that Peter never wanted to hear. She was plummeting, her eyes staring up at the tree canopy. She was falling to earth from her hiding place in the tree above their picnic spot.

The solid rock beneath her rushed up.

Impact. And another.

Peter gripped her body close to his chest, his arms wrapped around her like serpents. He’d snatched her from her free fall, catching her in midair and landing with a heavy thud. Chest heaving, his eyes shot to her face, searching for blood.

Her eyes fluttered wildly, disoriented from her near-fatal fight with gravity. She sucked in breath, heaving in a gasp. Gently, he lowered her to the ground, dropping to his knees. It’s like his brain lagged behind his eyesight. The fierce sound of her pounding heart released him from his terror-striken state.

When she made eye contact with him, his eyes were red-rimmed and bleary, tears welling with relief. They stayed like that for a moment—he kneeled while he cradled her, fingers trembling against her skin. He searched her eyes—you stay with me—listening to the song of her pulse.

Her hand lay limply in the dirt beneath her. Fingers brushed the sharp rough face of a softball-sized sandstone. She gazed up at him, blind instinct taking over, and slammed the rock into the side of his head.

He tumbled to the side, releasing his grip immediately. She hesitated, glancing back at her devastating hit—both shocked and horrified at her own actions. Then the panic set in. She flipped around and scrambled to her feet. She pumped her legs, running as fast as she could down the dirt trail away from her captor.

Suddenly, her feet were pulled out from underneath her. She came flying down, chest slamming into the dirt. She coughed as the air expelled from her lungs, tears filling her eyes from the shock. Reflexively, her legs were still moving, almost like a cartoon character.

No! No! No, please, no! She was unsure if her screams were in her head or if she actually recognized the sound of her own disembodied voice. Kicking her legs, confused and frustrated as it seemed they were bound in some sort of stringy—what the heck is this stuff?—material that wrapped around her legs like snakes. She kicked wildly to no avail, like her legs were tangled in blankets made of glue. She reached down, trying to free herself, snatching her hand back when she felt how sticky her binds were.

A shadow fell over her. Peter’s silhouette stood tall, back against the setting sun, as he glared down. Blood trickled from the temple near his ear. Eyes blackened with rage.

The sound she made was barely human, a pathetic yelp, as he snatched up her body and yanked her into his grip. Her legs were useless, so she used fingers, fists, palms, nails—anything to get him to release her. His hold was iron around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

He marched down the path with her writhing desperately on his shoulder. A mix of blubbering sobs—please, nonono, please, somebody help me, please help!— and savage scratching. When she was able to angle her arm and drive her elbow in the back of his head, he whipped her body around to his front. The ease at which he tossed her made her feel infantile in comparison. A muzzled, declawed feral kitten, whom he could easily toss off a bridge into a river.

He was going to kill her. She knew it. She had screwed up badly, and now he was going to kill her. Her fight wore down, the overwhelming exhausting sorrow bearing down on her, and soon she was a weeping mess of desperate pleas. He said nothing, paused for nothing, and gave her no inclination of what was next. The way he gripped her prevented her from being able to see how infuriated he was, but she felt it in his muscles. Like osmosis his fury seemed into her and it made her shudder.

There would be pain, she thought. She was certain. Her mind flashed back to his victim in the chair and her imagination pictured what he must look like right now. She imagined a torso floating in the East River, picked apart by fish. Head and arms buried somewhere nearby in concrete.

She screamed, terrified. Begging desperately that someone could hear her. Praying for salvation.

Sooner than she thought, he had kicked open the kitchen door and was carrying her through the living room.

She could barely breathe through her sobs. “Please, please, don’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry s-so sorry, please, don’t do this—”

He marched up the staircase and turned down the balcony to the bedroom she had woken up in. As he passed the threshold her fight came roaring back.

“No, stop! Please, please stop! No don’—I won’t run away, I promise—!”

He threw her, and her body was flying backwards. Landing hard against the mattress. The force of it silenced her for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath. Like a lion, he was on her. On top of her. His hands caught hers as she came up defensively to hit him. Wordless and possessed, he dragged her up to the headboard, his weight smothering her.

She wailed incoherently—Please don’t do this, I'm sorry, please— and was silenced by a sharp thwip. Her wrists flew to either side of her head, covered in the sticky gunk that restrained her legs. The sensation stunned her. Her body went rigid as he straddled her hips, pinning her hips down with his weight while her hands were unmovable at the sides of her head.

His eyes were the color of ink. The darkness in them threatened to swallow her. She went still, save for the uncontrollable heaving of her chest, as she peered up at his nightmare-stare with horror.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he glowered and hissed through his teeth. Her fear beckoned her to look away, but he gripped her jaw tight. Forcing her gaze into his. Pupils blown, blood trailing down his cheek like motor oil, he glared at her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

It was more than a threat. It was a promise. She knew it. Her heart seized in her throat. She cowered beneath him, trembling and pliant. Silent as a mouse.

“And I swear to god—on my mother’s soul,” he breathed through his mouth, speaking so quietly it was nearly a whisper. “If you ever pull that shit again... I will.”

It was a horrible look he gave her after that. Chilling, to say the least. Something so intimately livid. It bordered on obscene. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, watching his body leer over hers threateningly. It wouldn’t surprise her if he reached up and snapped her neck. She was expecting it.

But he released her chin, withdrawing himself. His footsteps pounded like a hammer as he marched across the hardwood floor. The heavy door slammed, shaking the top story of the house.

With a trembling chin, she gazed up through wet eyes at the ceiling. At dust-covered antlers suspended by chains, swaying in the gentle draft.

The sound she heard outside of her room was almost inhuman. A bellowing roar. It frightened her—of every fuckin’ little thing, always so frightened, scared of your own shadow, when would she going to be done being so scared all the time?—and she squeezed her eyes shut.

She wept as quietly as she could until sleep overtook her.

Continue to Part 5

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