#spider man fic

[literaila]

can you please write a Peter Parker x reader one shot where the reader gets injured and when Peter comes to visit her in the hospital her crush is exposed because her heart monitor keeps going insane 🙏🙏 she’ll get really embarrassed and he may tease her a bit but ultimately her feelings end up being reciprocated. There could be some angst when she gets hurt but I am the number one fan of teeth-rotting fluff that will make me giggle and kick my feet 😍🫶 could be a friends to lovers situation or an established relationship if you’d like!!! I love ur writing <3

he’s trying to kill me

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: it’s only proper for this to be a hurt reader comfort peter fic (and i mean that literally)

“what is wrong with you?”

you’re momentarily shocked when an accompanying voice bursts through the room. the words are loud and imposing, and completely distracting you away from the already rough rasp and egg smelling breath of the doctor trying to explain how reckless you were being.

but the new voice is angrier than the first; harder and louder.

there’s still uncertain goosebumps running up your skin when he walks through the doors with his chest heaving and eyes dark, pushing past the doctor like he doesn’t even realize that the woman is there, or just doesn’t care.

but his hands are gentle as they reach you, and his face is anything but shocking.

the doctor is glancing around his shoulder, a worried look in her eyes.

quickly, your muscles relax. you’re used to this imposition. your nerves settle, and you allow peter the chance to freak out for the both of you.

his hands run over your cheeks, his eyes darting over every possible inch of skin they can find. his frown is unburdened and furious. when he is satisfied with his scan of you—all limbs accounted for—peter’s shoulders lose a bit of their tension.

although you allow peter to pull you closer to him, his eyes are threatening, and not even your small greeting of a smile gets his face to settle.

he hugs you—crushing your head against his chest—and then quickly let’s you go, like he’s just realized that you’re made of lava.

but not too far, of course. peter is well within a foot distance.

“what is wrong with you?” he repeats, but a hiss this time. a punishment awaiting its victim. a demand of you. “are you crazy?”

your brows furrow back at him. “i’m fine, peter, now shush. let me listen to the doctor.” your voice is firm, but your chastising is ruined by the tip of a smile at your lips.

your hands wrap around peters arm, moving him away from blocking your view of the doctor.

you nod for her to continue.

“your x-rays came back fine, and there’s nothing unusual about your blood work. the only concern i have is about your head—“

“her head?” peter repeats, voice a bit high. you give him a look to shut up. pinching the skin of his arm, but he doesn’t flinch. just stares at you like you might disappear. or you gained four additional eyes.

she clears her throat. “it looks to be a minor concussion, but any more blunt force trauma might worsen your condition. so it’s important that you take extra precautions in the next couple of weeks, and avoid doing anything that might affect your head. no strenuous exercise, or harsh movement.”

“so no alleyway fist fights?”

she doesn’t laugh, and neither does peter. the tension within the room remains, swirling over you like a cumulonimbus cloud.

but he does interrupt once again. “could it get worse on its own?” he asks, eyes darting between you and her. “do i need to be watching for anything? checking her pupils every once in a while, or making sure she’s not excessively napping for the next couple of days—“

“it shouldn’t be necessary.” she looks back to you, and you can see the sarcasm in her eyes. “if you develop any unusual symptoms, schedule an appointment with your physician. but otherwise, you’re free to leave whenever they bring in your paperwork.”

you feel peter sigh next to you, and you shake your head. “thanks, doc.”

“i’ll have a nurse bring in a list of information about any reoccurring symptoms, and the healing process for your brain over the next month.”

you nod.

the doctor clears her throat once again, giving you a tight lipped smile and nodding at peter, and then she runs out of the room as fast as humanly possible.

you watch her go but peter is staring at you. eventually, when you’ve been dwelling on the pattern of the tile for a moment too long, you look back.

and what you see is expected; harsh lines and worried dimples, stormy eyes and a gash of a frown ruining his otherwise perfect face.

you sigh.

peter swallows. “are you going to explain yourself?”

you lean forward, small teasing smile on your lips as you rest your chin on a hand. “explain what? my headache?”

“c’mon, i’m serious,” his frown doesn’t budge, but he nudges your leg so he can sit down next to you. “what were you thinking?”

he sighs again, shoulders falling, and leans his head next to yours. when he’s this close, you can see the lines wearing under his eyes. you can smell smoke coming off of his skin.

“i was thinking that my doctor needs to improve her bedside manner, and that my boyfriend needs to learn how to wait his turn to speak.”

“i’m not kidding. you could’ve hurt yourself—you’ve already got a concussion.”

“a minor concussion.”

“does it matter?” peter mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“i’m fine, baby, all bandaged up and everything.”

peter pushes himself up, meeting your eyes with an unfound passion. “this time,” he urges, getting closer, he glances at the door. “but what about next time when you decide to jump off a building just to prove you can fly?”

“i’m not icarus,” you shake your head. “you needed help, peter. i’m not going to let someone get hurt just so i don’t.”

“that’s my job.”

“that’s every good samaritans job,” you roll your eyes, hand brushing through his hair, feeling the dirt build up under your fingertips. “just because you have an advantage over everyone else doesn’t mean that you’re the only one who gets to be a hero.”

“dying isn’t heroic.”

you scoff. “that’s actually the most heroic thing a person can do, but i’m going to let you have this one so you don’t go and get any ideas.”

he bites his lip, swallowing. “you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“well so could you, but you don’t see me bursting into your room and interrupting—“

“that’s not the same thing.”

“how, peter?” you ask, shaking your head and giving him a small smile. “how is this any different?”

“because i can handle it!”

he moves away from you, and throws his head back, sighing out of frustration and looking at you with gentler, more pained eyes. “i can handle it,” he repeats.

“are you saying that if you were standing where i was you wouldn’t have pushed that woman out of the way?”

“i—“

“you cant expect me to watch you save everyone and not help when i can.”

peters eyes catch yours, and you watch him struggle to speak. but eventually he whispers, “you got hurt.”

“i’m okay, though. really.”

“i don’t…” peter shakes his head. “i don’t want, i can’t—ugh.”

you reach for his hand, running a finger over bruised knuckles. “i appreciate your concern,” you tell him, softly. “i know you’re just worried, but you have to let me make my own decisions. you cant rescue everyone all the time.”

“you would be enough.”

you snort. “peter, you have the worlds biggest savior complex. if you let a single person get hurt—even if they live in antarctica—you brood for days. i don’t expect you to watch other people suffer, but i need you to respect the same for me.”

your words are almost biting.

there’s a moment where peter looks at you, and then glances towards the wall. “are you mad?”

you frown. “no, of course not. annoyed or frustrated, maybe. but not mad.”

he gestures beside you with his head. “your hearts beating really fast.”

you look over to the screen next to your head, watching the lines rise and fall rapidly. and then down to your finger, with the cursed device making it apparent to everyone in the room.

“that’s just my resting heart rate,” you say, curled lip and waved hand.”

peter licks his lip. “oh, really?”

“yes, peter. you put on the finger thingy and let’s see how fast your hearts going.”

“i’m not the patient here. are you feeling alright? light headed? dizzy?”

“i’m feeling interrogated.”

peter moves closer to you, eyes darting towards the screen by your head, then to your eyes. he moves away, and his eyes squint. “hmm.”

you look with him, furrowed brows. “what?“

he leans forward again. “there seems to be a common factor.”

“i already told you—“

“every time i move closer to you your heart rate spikes.”

you roll your eyes. “that’s because i’m mad at you.”

“i thought you said you weren’t mad?”

“things have changed.”

peter laughs and leans down to kiss your hairline. when he moves back his eyes aren’t on you. a small smirk falls on his lips, and he moves to kiss your cheek. and then the other.

you don’t need to watch your heart rate to feel the heat rising in your chest.

he leaves a peck on your nose, and moves to kiss the side of your jaw. his kisses are gentle and ticklish, and when his nose runs along your cheekbone, you have to refrain from shivering.

he’s incredibly annoying.

peter moves back as little as possible so he can watch the screen. “maybe i should leave the room.”

“maybe you should get over yourself.”

peter moves forward again, kissing your cupids bow. and then his lips are at your ear and his fingertips are grazing your jaw.

“you first,” he whispers.

you groan and tilt your head, trying to shake him off of you. “this isn’t fair. get your own monitor.”

“let’s just focus on you right now.”

your hand locks around his neck, the other moving to his hair. peters eyes are almost shocked at the feeling, but his momentary surprise gives you the perfect opportunity to pull him closer.

to actually kiss him and avoid dying of any more teasing.

peters smile is evident against your lips, but he doesn’t move away, and his breath meets your own in gentle strokes.

his hand is smooth as he tilts your chin up.

you can feel your own heartbeat, but peter takes his other hand so he can rest two fingers against your neck, feeling for your pulse.

you want to die at the feeling.

“interesting,” he says, his lips brushing yours.

you roll your eyes while they’re still closed, and hope that he can feel it. “shut up.”

peter laughs again, and guides you in short but tense kisses, like he’s trying to make sure that you’re still breathing.

he doesn’t budge when you try to force him closer.

and before you can get him to kiss you properly again, there’s a clearing of a throat, and a different kind of spike in your heartbeat.

a nurse stands behind peter, looking a bit uncomfortable.

peter moves away, swallowing, and greeting the nurse with a shake of his hand. she’s holding a clipboard and a juice box, giving the two of you a brief smile. “sorry to interrupt,” she says.

peter laughs and looks back at you with wide eyes.

you smile, then point at peter. “he’s trying to kill me.”

*

#ask #tasm peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #spider-man #the amazing spider man #spider man fic #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm spiderman #tasm 2 #tasm #marvel fanfic #marvel

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

mr and mrs parker

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

wc: 1.7K

warnings: none. clean as a whistle

summary: fury has assigned you and peter on an undercover mission. as a married couple. and the two of you haven’t even been on a first date yet. used prompts 3 and 7 from oblivious pining from @mangocherri

A/N: peter and reader are aged up to 21, but there’s nothing explicit happening.

masterlist / peter parker

“the both of you are going undercover at the event as a married couple. need these bugs to be planted where you deem fit. keep tabs on anyone suspicious, and stay lively and sober. be the happy couple.” fury left the tiny bugging devices and exited the room without further words.

you and peter stayed quiet while both of you sat at the giant conference table. two manilla envelopes were sitting in front of each of you with information on the targets and the object of the mission. along with the cover story, the both of you being the happy mr and mrs parker couple.

now there was a slight problem with the cover story, you were a married couple. not even a regular couple, just two friends/coworkers who have crushes on each other but are too chicken to do anything about it.

“ever been to an event like this?” peter asked. the first one to break the growing silence in the room.

you bent the corner of the folder, “uh, yeah. but only twice and both were in the shadow missions. being dressed as a waiter, passing through the crowd unnoticed. now i’m gonna be dressed nice and done up, eyes watching. still never used to that feeling.” hand leaving the card stock and falling into your lap. “you?” already knowing the answer.

he shook his head, “not my thing. usually, it’s spider-man coming in to save the day.”

“well,” you stood from your seat, “for the day we can pretend to be fancy people and a lovely couple.” hoping you didn’t show too much excitement for the last part.

“best day ever.” peter replied as he grabbed his papers, a nice red ghosting on his cheeks.

-

“excited?” natasha walked into your room and sat on the foot of your made bed.

you were sitting at your desk which was your temporary vanity for the time getting ready. tubes and powers, palettes and brushes were scattered over the surface, a task for future you to clean up. hair painstakingly styled from your usual combat sleek look, your arms getting their workout for the day.

you sighed at natasha’s question, “i feel sick,” grumbled as you looked for your blush. natasha just laughed at the comment, “that’s the butterflies, honey. your nervous cause of your partner. i’m sorry, husband.” she practically sang the word.

you dropped your voice, “no, it's not cause of peter. i’m just not used to being in an eye-catching position.” touching up your eye makeup for distraction.

“uh huh.” she didn’t sound convinced, “well, i’m sure my memory doesn’t fail me cause i swear, there was this girl a few months ago who came to me frantic about this crush she had on a bug superhero. but i guess i’m old since i’m in my late thirties.” 

you dropped any brushes or makeup from your hand back to the table. a defeated sigh racking from your chest, “okay, yes, fine. it’s mostly cause of peter and how we’re probably gonna hold hands and maybe need to kiss or something. but there is a small part cause of the mission, that’s one hundred percent true.”

natasha stood from your bed and walked behind you, hands squeezing your shoulders, “you’re gonna do great, honey. you’re one of the youngest SHIELD agents, you know what you’re doing. and peter’s been getting better at undercover, there’s nothing to worry about. a simple bug and mingle.”

the two of you locked eyes in your mirror. natasha felt like an older sister hyping you up for your high school dance with a boy you liked, but in reality, it was an agent-to-agent pep talk for an undercover op with a web-crawling hero. tomato potato.

a gentle knock at the door stole the attention. you yelled for them to enter and peter poked his head around the gap, he sent a sheepish smile in greeting, and it made those flutters reappear.

“hi, sorry. don’t mean to bother-“ “your not a bother.” quickly interrupting peter. you ignore the look natasha sent you.

peter chuckled lightly, “thanks. uh, i was wondering if either of you could help with my bow tie? i can’t find anyone else in the tower and i wasn’t taught….” he trailed off while playing with the black fabric.

natasha patted your shoulders before moving away, “y/n can help. so i’m gonna head out and the two of you enjoy your date- sorry, mission.” leaving the both of you warm in the face and also giving peter a pat on his back before closing your door behind her. and then it was two.

you stood from your chair and made your way to peter. “sorry about her. loves messing with people.” rolling your lips and eyes shying away from peter’s pretty brown ones. again a light chuckle from him, “it’s- it’s fine. kinda used to that from my aunt.”

you nodded, “ready for tonight?” bouncing on the balls of your feet. you were still dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, planning to slip into your dress in a few minutes.

peter played with his bow tie, “physically just about. mentally… need a few more minutes to be thrown into the lion's den.” now you laughed as you plucked the fabric from him and stepped closer, “it’s not so much a lion's den, more like a… a monkey den.”

you popped peter’s stiff collar and slipped the fabric behind his neck, end pieces adjusted evenly. “what makes it a monkey’s den?” peter tilted his head back a little, chin almost hitting your forehead.

you spoke into his chest, fingers bending and twisting. “their all dressed in their monkey suits and throwing bullshit at each other. all they need is a couple of hung tires and boom, monkey den ala rich assholes.” pulling the finished bow tight.

you took a step back to admire your handiwork. peter dropped his head and his darting brown eyes made you part your lips subconsciously. peter swiped his hands down his pressed white button-up, “how- how do i look? like i’ll fight in?”

you let your eyes drift down his chest, the shirt loose enough that it wouldn’t strain when he moved his arms. the end of the shirt tucked into his black dress pants that were without a wrinkle and stopped just at his ankle. but when you went from toe to head, you only saw a boyish face with little bits of baby fat clinging to his cheeks. how he smiled awkwardly, teeth flashing white, his eyes nervous and almost blinking too many times.

“you won’t fit in.” saying the statement gently. peter deflated a bit, a crinkle in the middle of his brows. you gained that previous step back, right hand hesitantly falling over peter’s heart.

“but it’s best you don’t look like them. want you to stand out as your own.” boldly gazing into his eyes, letting your words melt into his brain for a moment before walking away. “now, uh, if you could just stay here so you could help with my dress that’d be great.”

“yeah! ye-yeah, can- can do that.” and you heard the heels of his sleek leather shoes click on your floor.

you grabbed the all-black gown from your closet and led into your connected bathroom. stripping off your casual comfy clothes, you held the dress to the floor and stepped in from the top to save your hair and makeup from friction. thick black straps sit on your shoulders and with a hand over your chest, you slide the door to shuffle back to the open space.

peter had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was leaning into your desk area, eyes taking in all the photos decorating your dirty mirror. he had a soft smile on his thin lips.

“a little help, spider boy.” sneaking up on him and not withholding the little giggle at seeing him startle in surprise. “thought you had a tingle for danger.”

“it’s called spider sense and you're not a danger, at least not to me.” you hummed as you turned your back to peter. you peeked a glance over your shoulder to see peter standing pretty close to your back, closer than would be normal to zip up a dress. he pulled both sides of the fabric tight then held them with one hand at the top of your back while his dominant hand tugged up the zipper slowly. you sucked in the sigh that wanted to escape at the feeling of peter’s touch and warmth, you kept your head forward and eyes focused on your messy bed.

peter stopped and you thought he was done but then his wrist skimmed across your neck and you couldn’t help the audible gasp. “sorry, didn’t want your hair getting caught.” his voice was low. “it’s okay.” almost breathless. “it’s- it’s beautiful. your hair and- and makeup. just not used to seeing you dressed up.”

a quick laugh, “yeah, definitely out of my comfort zone. but it’s- it’s not too bad. at least you're in the same boat, i’m- i’m guessing.” chiding yourself for the assumption, but peter quickly quelled the nerves, “definitely out of my zone. there, all done.”

turning to face peter you did the same actions as him earlier, looking down at your attire and smoothing your hands over invisible wrinkles. “not too much? not trying to draw attention.”

you waited to hear an answer but it never came. you looked away from the dress to see peter with wide eyes and a tight mouth. you stepped closer and pressed the back of your hand to his cheek and exposed forehead, “you okay?”

he mindlessly nodded, and you stepped away to look for your tiny heels. but stopped in your search at the crack of peter’s voice and the heart-racing words that left his mouth.

“what?” your own eyes blown large. peter scratched a hand on the back of his hair before shoving it into his pockets. he cleared his throat and looked directly at you while repeating, “you- you look beautiful. hard to not draw attention.” he cleared his throat again.

“uh, th- thanks, peter.”

“yeah… well i’m- im gonna wait outside. see- see you in a few minutes.” and he left before you could protest his absence.

-

#peter parker fic #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x shield reader #spider man imagine #spider man fic #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #marvel

[ynscrazylife]

Being the Bubbly new Spider-Hero

You’re a new spider-hero at the Spider Society who was recruited by Jess Drew and you easily caught Miguel’s eye . . . but for the wrong reasons. You were quite bubbly and excited, enjoying being a spider-hero and to work at the Spider Society. This was quite a contrast to Miguel’s nature, as he almost didn’t enjoy being a hero. He liked helping people, but with the events that led to it which included losing his daughter . . . It was difficult for him. You were difficult for him.

When you messed up on a mission, Miguel got his chance to unleash his ever-building frustration as he dug into you. He was harsher than he should’ve been, bringing up your flaws and ripping into you. He was so harsh that he brought tears to your eyes. You were ashamed and unhappy.

Miguel knew the instant you left that he had gone too far. His brooding nature that kept him from doing anything at first. He sat by himself for a while and for once, LYLA stopped being snarky with him and tried to help. She really liked you.

He got his opportunity when you were hospitalized at another mission gone wrong. When you woke up to see him by your side, you thought he was going to critique you again and you began to apologize. Much to your confusion, he was quick to shush you, saying he was here to be with you and see how you were. You were bewildered and caught off guard. He began to apologize for his behavior and opened up about his past in a way that he never had before. Something about you made him feel safe to be vulnerable around.

You were still a little wary (as you had every right to be), but you wanted to hear him out. It was going to be a slow process to fully forgive him, but you wanted to try. There was just something alluring about him . . .

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #lyra #jess drew #spider woman #across the spiderverse #spider man imagine #spider man fic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara is hot #miguel o’hara imagine

[shellshocklove]

two: thick skull | peter parker

pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader

summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.

warnings: swearing, mentions and drinking of alcohol, blood, smut 18+ (minors dni!), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 6.0k

a/n: every time i post a series i feel like the story doesn’t begin until the third installment. i don’t know why i feel like that- maybe i just hate exposition lmao. well, this one’s not any different to me. this part is one of my faves <3 feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Where the fuck is Peter?”

You were pacing. The hem of your black silk mini dress ruffled with each step you took, while the sound of your black thigh high boots echoed against the concrete floor of your green room at The Living Room. You were starting to feel rage bubble in your veins, heating a fire in your stomach.

Harry sighed hard, his head falling into his hands. “You know I’ve texted him a hundred times already– and he hasn’t responded since the last time you asked– TEN SECONDS AGO!” Harry answered you from where he sat next to Elijah on the leather couch.

How could he be late? Today of all days? At this point you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh. Had the curse over Crimson Goblins struck again? Were you once again without a guitarist?

You looked over at the clock hanging over the door. Five minutes. In five minutes, you were supposed to go on stage, and Peter had somehow fallen off the face of the earth. Tears started to burn behind your eyelids as your frustration grew stronger. How could Peter do this to you? To Harry? To Elijah? He knew how much this meant to you. How excited you’d all been for tonight.

You’d practiced every day this week, making sure everything would be perfect for tonight. Harry had been heavily promoting your gig on his Instagram, and you and Elijah had invited all your friends from your classes. You three all made sure people would show up, and they had. The Living Room was packed. So packed you could hear the steady buzzing of conversation all the way from the stage through the door of your green room. But one person was missing.

You felt stupid. You felt played. Played by Peter. You’d thought he’d actually cared. Cared about you. Cared about the band. Maybe your first impression about Peter had been right all along. You slumped against the arm of the leather couch as you felt a tear roll down your cheek. You quickly wiped it at the sound of Elijah calling your name.

“Please come sit down” he said, his arm stretched out, welcoming you to slump against his body in comfort. Beside him Harry got up, lifting his phone to his ear, trying to get a hold of Peter for the umpteenth time.

“How are you so calm?” you whispered to Elijah as you laid your head down on his shoulder, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your arm.

“Nothing good comes from being stressed. Either he shows up or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t show– we’ll play the gig without him” he said, trying to comfort you.

But it didn’t work. You were already nervous about the show. And adding Peter not showing up to your growing concerns about the night, had made your heartbeat double its pace.

“He’s not answering” Harry sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you.

Slinging his arm over the back of the couch, he turned towards you and Elijah. “I guess we’ll just go out there with only bass and drums and just try our best? We all know the songs in and out– we’ll be fine!” Harry tried to cheer you up. “And it’ll be a funny story… right? When we’re super rich and famous, playing stadiums for thousands of screaming fans! We’ll think back to this moment” he emphasized “this” with a press of his finger against your thigh.

Looking over at Harry, you tried to give him a smile. He scooted closer to you and Elijah, and soon you were engulfed in a group hug. Both men squeezing you tight between them.

“Dude! Your armpit is in my face–” you heard Elijah’s muffled voice before Harry cut him off with, “I love you guys”.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I love you too but I’m being squished here”.

Harry pulled away at your words, but on his face, he wore a dramatic pout.

“All I want is to show my two younglings some love and this is what I get” he said, faking a scoff. “You don’t deserve me” his head fell. You knew he was just messing around when you saw how he tried to hide the cheeky grin plastered on his face by turning his face away.

Beside you Elijah snorted, “You're right, we've done nothing to deserve this! Somebody please put us out of our misery”.

Before you could all burst out laughing, you heard a knock on the door. A second later it opened to the face of the manager of The Living Room.

“Crimson Goblins? You’re on now” she said.

Those three words made you feel sick. You all stood to your feet. Over you Elijah let out a sigh as Harry clapped his hands together with a loud smack! before rubbing them together.

“Okay” Harry sighed, walking towards the door with you and Elijah in tow.

“Here goes nothing…”

Walking behind Harry to the side of the stage, you wondered why it felt like you were walking to your death. Like you’d walk out on stage and all your instruments would be gone and replaced by a gallows. If this didn’t go well, this would be a public execution. You’d be known as the girl in that band that fucking sucked.

“Hi!! You guys! Guys! I’m here!!” turning around you almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“I’m SO sorry” Peter heaved out. He looked disheveled, dressed casually in jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a gray zip up hoodie.

First of all, Peter was not at all dressed like he belonged in a punk band, and second of all, not at all dressed for the Saturday night out you all agreed you were having after the gig. But his clothes, and the state of them, wasn’t what concerned you. What concerned you, was the black eye he was sporting, along with a bleeding busted lip, and raw bloody knuckles.

Nobody said anything as the three of you just stood looking at him. To your left you heard the increased simmering of the restless crowd.

“I–“ Harry started, holding up his hands, “We don’t have time to deal with this right now… let’s just do the gig”.

Harry’s blatant ignoring of the whole situation, paired with him not even acknowledging how hurt Peter looked, made a fury bubble in your veins. But your fury wasn’t close to reaching its boiling point because of Harry, it was because of Peter. Yes, he showed up. But would it have killed him to pick up the phone and let you know if he was coming or not?

You didn’t know what to do, so you just shook your head. You didn’t even want to look at him. So, you turned your back, moving to stand behind Harry where he faced the stage. When the lights went dark, and the crowd started cheering, you felt a presence behind you lean closer.

“I’m sorry– I really am!” Peter whispered in your ear, “And I also think you look really pretty tonight”.

You turned around to look at him, meeting his sorry eyes. Letting out a scoff you shook your head. Is this man fucking for real, right now? A second later you followed Harry out on the stage with a hand lifted in a wave.

It went by way too fast. One minute you were furiously walking on stage, and the next minute you were soaring on a cloud of electric energy. You’d opened with one of your original songs ‘Bad Mood’. Not that you had many original songs, Crimson Goblin were playing mostly covers, but the guitar heavy song got the crowd going right away, feeding you with amazing energy. It was packed to the brim, sweaty and clammy, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. You almost wished you were down in the pit yourself. Pressed against the sweaty bodies as you lost yourself in the crowd.

You lost yourself either way – in the music. The anger looming over the band made Elijah bang a little harder on the drums and Harry scream a little louder into the mic. For you, every time you looked over at Peter, you stomped your feet a little more aggressively and headbanged a little harder. There was an intensity between the four of you. One you’ve never felt before. You felt high. High on the moment. High on the music. High on rage.

By the third song the floor opened up to a mosh pit. Under you, bodies jumped in time with the music, fists pumping, moving like a stormy wave of people. Harry’s stage presence blew you away. He had the crowd wrapped around his finger, all their intense attention on him. You already knew he was a performer, he never turned down an opportunity to be dramatic. But the way he moved about the stage. He was so sure of himself, exuding a confidence you’d never seen in him before. He was energetic, but still there was an intensity to his movements. Nothing seemed rehearsed about the way he sang; he sang every word with a purpose. In a weird way he reminded you of a mix of Joe Talbot from IDLES with a little bit of Joe Strummer from The Clash mixed in.

An hour later it was over. Walking off the stage after your encore, you were still soaring.

Giggling and jumping around, Harry pulled you in for a sweaty hug. “Did you guys see that!?” he screamed, letting go of you, as quickly as he’d hugged you. “We were fucking LEGENDARY!!” he roared, shaking your shoulders.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Harry continued jumping around the backstage area excitedly. The adrenaline rush you were feeling was insane. You wanted to do this every night for the rest of your life.

“Let’s go get fucking DRUNK!!!” Harry bounced.

A few minutes later, after a quick stop back at the green room to freshen up, you were all throwing back shots at the bar. The three of you feeling too euphoric to be angry at Peter.

After the gigs on Saturdays, The Living Room transformed into a club for the rest of the night. The lights were low, glimpses of pinks, reds, and purples, lit up the room around you. Up on the stage, your band set up had been transformed into a DJ-stand, where a woman now bounced to the music flowing through the speakers. Her white bleached hair with a streak of blue running through it, reflected the light like a mirror.

After the round of shots, Harry bought the first round of drinks. He always got a little extra generous when he was drunk. He left his tab open, like he always did, for you guys to take advantage of. It made you feel a little bad. You were obviously grateful, and it wasn’t like the money meant anything to Harry. To him it was like a drop in an endless sea. But sometimes, letting Harry pay felt like charity. He knew you struggled with money from time to time. Sometimes the extra tips from your waitress job didn’t cover your expenses, but that’s just the life of a full-time college student.

Harry had asked you to move into the penthouse with him and Peter on multiple occasions, wanting to let you live there for free like Peter did, but you just couldn’t say yes. Instead, you told him you could take care of yourself. Maybe it was harsh, but you didn’t want to rely on anybody except for yourself.

Standing together with your bandmates by the bar, you zooned out from their conversation. Instead, you looked around the packed room, your hand tightly wrapped around the glass of your G&T. You felt Peter’s eyes burn the side of your face. You hadn’t spoken to him yet, not after he’d whispered his compliment in your ear before you’d gone on stage. You hated how it made you feel – a warmth pricking under your skin. You resisted the urge to turn your head and look at him.

Over in the corner, in the back of the club, you saw some of your friends you’d invited from your classes. Seeing an opportunity to escape your conflicting feelings about Peter for a little while, you tugged lightly on Elijah’s leather jacket, pulling him from Harry and Peter’s conversation. You pointed to your friends in the corner, letting him know where you were going, and with a nod and a smile, he let you go.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like none at all, the way nights out sometimes felt like living from moment to moment. After catching up with your friends, you’d moved over to the dance floor, and your earlier wish of losing yourself in the crowd, was granted.

You were a sweaty mess. The bass in your chest vibrated with every beat as you moved your body to the music. The blinking lights slowed everything down. The crowd moved in slow motion, showing you only small glimpses of the bodies moving around you.

When your feet started to hurt, and you needed a moment to catch your breath, you sought refuge at the bar. After downing a glass of cold water, you felt yourself start to calm down a little, and a fatigue settled in. Your body had been a tensed mess all week leading up to the gig. You hadn’t had a moment to process the stress of Peter being late earlier (and his comment), either. Your adrenalin high was starting to wear out. You were coming down.

Pondering if you should start to head home, you looked around the club for your bandmates, wanting to let them know you were leaving so they wouldn’t worry. You let your eyes wander through the room, searching for them, but couldn’t seem to find any of them – not even Peter.

You hadn’t noticed you’d let your gaze fall on some random guy, until he was walking over to you. Your thoughts too occupied with questions on how you were going to find your friends again.

“Not having fun?” he asked when he’d closed the space between you.

He looked so square. What was he even doing here? Dressed in a navy polo shirt and tan chinos you wondered if he’d gotten lost on his way to the country club.

“Oh, just taking a break” you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“I saw you and your band earlier– you guys were pretty good!”. He crossed his arms over his chest.

What was he trying to do? Make his muscles look bigger?

“Thanks” you forced a smile. You just wanted to go home.

“I didn’t think I’d be attracted to a female playing bass, but you looked really hot up there”.

Did he just say female? You caught yourself before you let your eyes roll to the back of your head. Forcing another smile, you racked your brain for a reply.

“I’m Chad by the way” he threw out the information like it was something you already should’ve known.

“Ok” you nodded, and he mirrored you. You didn’t offer up your own name.

“The club’s getting pretty boring, don’t you think? Wanna get out of here? I could show you a goo–“

“There you are”,

Wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders, Peter cut Chad off. “I’ve been looking for you for like an hour” he chuckled, ignoring Chad’s presence altogether.

“I’ve been looking for you guys for like an hour” you answered, a hint of relief in your voice. You didn’t have it in you to be angry at him anymore, you were just glad to see him.

“Who’s your friend?” Peter asked, seeming to finally notice Chad.

“Oh um…” you started, looking over at Chad where he stood awkwardly watching you and Peter. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked him, faking your sudden amnesia.

There seemed to flash a flare of annoyance across Chad’s face for a second, which he quickly covered with a toothy smile.

“Chad” he said, reaching out his hand for Peter to shake.

Peter grabbed his hand, giving him a rather hard squeeze from what you could read of Chad’s facial expressions, “Peter”. You bit down on your lip, trying to stop a smile from erupting across your face.

“So, um–” Chad cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest again, trying to hide the clenching of his fingers, “what happened to you man?”.

“Oh this?” Peter gestured to his black eye and busted lip. “It’s nothing! You should see the other guy” he answered, staring down Chad. Could you glimpse a hint of a mischievous smile on Peter’s lips?

You didn’t know what had happened to Peter, but you found it hard to imagine he’d gotten his injuries from a fight. He was too sweet, and way too dorky for something like that, and Peter had told you himself he was clumsy. But Chad didn’t know that.

“Right…” Chad trailed off. An awkward beat passed before he spoke up again. “I think I just saw someone I know…” he said, pretending to look past you and Peter.

“Nice meeting you” Chad said with a nod, aimed at you, before he walked away.

When Chad was out of view, Peter let out a chuckle. “Please tell me you weren’t about to go home with that guy” his arm around you pulled you even closer to him as he laughed.

“I wasn’t” you clarified, “I was just about to go home, alone, and he just walked up to me”.

“Good!” he chuckled, “Because he definitely didn’t look like someone who could ‘show you a good time’” Peter parroted what Chad had said to you right before he’d walked in on your conversation.

“But you are?” you’d asked the question before you’d even had time to think. Yes, you’d had a glass of water, but you’d also had several drinks throughout the night. And maybe drunk you, didn’t like to think before she spoke.

“Oh…” you didn’t know if it was just the pink hue of the club lights, or if you’d caught a glimpse of Peter’s cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

“Well– I can’t say I’ve gotten any complaints,” he feigned.

“No?” you tried to keep your face neutral, as he gave you a sheepish shrug.

Changing the topic you asked, “What’s with the arm?” you gestured to his arm around your body.

“Oh… um nothing” he simply answered.

“Nothing?” you questioned.

“Yeah” he said nonchalantly, and you felt a smile pull at the corners of your mouth.

“What are you doing Peter?” you teased.

“Nothing! I swear!” he chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I don’t believe you”.

He narrowed his eyes at you, and soon you were staring him down.

“Ok fine” Peter let up, “I just wanted that guy to back off– you looked uncomfortable, and he seemed like a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer”.

“I can take care of myself, you know?” you stated.

“Of course you can– I mean I know you can– I wasn’t insinuating that you didn’t!” he fumbled over his words. Why did you find it so endearing?

“It’s just that…” he trailed off as he looked down at his feet.

“It’s just that, what?” you asked, feeling a smile tug on the corners of your mouth.

“You’re so pretty– the prettiest person in this room” he breathed out, repeating what he’d told you mere hours ago.

“I don’t know… I guess I got scared you’d go home with him” he met your gaze. The warmth and the intensity he looked at you with, made your tummy flutter. Then he scrunched up his face.

“Oh god! I’m sorry! I don’t know why I said that– I’m drunk and I’m being weird– just forget I said anything” he apologized quickly, fumbling over his words again, as you felt his arm around you fall.

Oh… you pressed your lips together, feeling the butterflies die in your tummy. “It’s okay Peter! I’m drunk too– don’t worry about it” you spoke.

“Thanks” he gave you his trademark emoticon smile. Then a beat passed without neither you nor Peter saying anything.

“Well,” you started, “I think I’m gonna go home”.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “me too I think”.

A few moments later you were stood out on the street, outside The Living Room, together with Peter. There was still snow on the ground, but the wind didn’t bite as hard as it had a few weeks ago.

“Ugh!” Peter let out, looking down at his phone.

“What?” you asked, taking a step closer to Peter, shamelessly peeking over his shoulder at his phone.

“Harry just texted me ‘bone alert’, I’m gonna be traumatized when I get home” he said, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Bone alert?” you questioned.

“Yeah, it’s just our code for when one of us bring someone home to–“

“Bone?” you finished his sentence.

“Yeah” he chuckled, “Harry came up with it– it’s stupid”.

“You can crash at my place if you want?” the words just fell out of your mouth, “I mean– it’ll save you some trauma?”.

Peter chuckled, “Really?”.

“Yeah, of course!”

As you stepped through the door of your apartment, you regretted not tidying up before you left. You’d been in a hurry getting ready. Clothes were thrown across your bed, and in the sink, your dishes had, embarrassingly, piled up over the last few days.

“I’m sorry it’s a little messy” you apologized as you heard Peter close the door behind you.

“Oh! It’s okay” he reassured you.

You’d lived here for about a year and a half. Your studio apartment was small, made up by a narrow hallway, a tiny bathroom, and your living room/bedroom/kitchen. After hanging your coats on your rack by the door, Peter followed you down the short hallway. The hallway opened up to your kitchen lining the right wall. You didn’t have the space for a dinner table, so you ate all your meals at your tiny kitchen island. Your apartment faced north, making the light coming through the row of windows perfect for painting. You’d set up a desk along the wall and placed your easel in the corner. It meant that you didn’t have any room for a sofa or a TV, but it wasn’t much of a sacrifice for you, you loved making art more than you loved watching TV. Tucked away in the inner corner of your apartment, you’d placed your unmade bed.

“Where should I put these?” Peter asked.

He’d been kind enough to carry your bass home. You’d protested at first, feeling bad that he’d had to carry both his own guitar and then your bass all the way back to your apartment, but he’d said it was fine. You were letting him crash at your place – it was the least he could. Then he’d taken your bass out of your hands and carried it like it weighed nothing more than a feather.

“Ehm…,” you trailed off, “you can just put them by my desk for now”.

Still slightly embarrassed by the mess, you started picking up your scattered clothes from earlier.

“The bathroom’s just through there–“ you pointed to the bathroom door with one hand, as you clutched a pile of clothes to your body with the other. “I’m sorry I don’t have a sofa or anything. I can sleep on the floor if it makes you uncomfortable to share a bed”.

“What? No! I should be the one to sleep on the floor” Peter protested.

A smile started to spread on your face, “Peter, don’t be silly! You’re not sleeping on the floor– you’re the guest here”.

You let him use the bathroom first. When you stepped out of the bathroom, after getting ready for bed, Peter was already tucked in your bed. He looked so cozy. Your duvet pulled all the way up over his shoulders, while he watched you step closer with half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep yet!” you said, “I got something for you” you sat down on the edge of the bed. In your hands you held a clean and dampened washcloth.

“What is it?” he curiously asked, sitting up a little making the duvet fall and exposing his toned and bruised chest. You instinctively looked away, a heat traveling to your cheeks. You felt the bed dip as he moved closer to you. You looked down at your lap.

“It’s for your cut, the one on your lip it’s– it’s bleeding” you said as you finally lifted your head to gaze at him.

“Oh shit?” he brought his finger to his mouth, when he pulled it away it was coated in red.

You shifted closer to him, taking his hand in yours. You brushed the washcloth over his finger, cleaning up the blood.

“Thank you”, he whispered, his stare burning your face. His eye was still black, and on his cheekbone a bruise had started to flower.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened to you?” you asked, your voice not louder than a whisper. You started to lightly dap at the cut on his lip with the washcloth, making a hiss leave his lips.

“I…” he started, searching for the right words. A beat passed before he spoke.

“No,” he concluded, “I’m not”.

You let your hand fall, resting it in his lap over the duvet.

“Does Harry know?” you asked.

“No” his face twisted in a crooked smile, “But he knows why”.

His answer both explained a lot and nothing at the same time. It explained why Harry never seemed to comment on Peter’s bruises. But it didn’t explain why Harry wasn’t worried.

“Do you think you’ll ever tell me what’s going on?” you met his eyes. The warmth of them sparking up a fire in your tummy.

He looked past you, as he thought about your question.

“I honestly don’t know…” he breathed out, meeting your eyes again, “maybe someday, but not now”.

“Do I need to worry about you?” you whispered, trying not to sound disappointed. His face softened at your words, but there was also a flash of sadness in his eyes. A hand came up to cup your cheek, while the other rubbed at the base of your neck.

He rubbed his finger over your cheekbone, “No, angel”.

You don’t know which one of you moved first. It wasn’t like it was a choice, or a conscious decision. Something in the core of your being pulled you into him. He tasted red, rusty red. The kiss was languid. Pulling you in all directions, but most importantly into him.

Your back hit the mattress. He weighed you down, but you welcomed it. You kissed him. Kissed him again. He kissed you. He kissed your jaw. He kissed your neck. You felt hot all over. Your lungs burned. You forgot to breathe. It was too much. Being so wrapped up in him. His warmth, his touch, his scent. And at the same time, it was not enough.

Your fingers found his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, earning yourself a groan from him, while he peppered kisses down your neck. His hands ran up your body, snaking under your sleep shirt, caressing your skin. You needed more.

“Touch me– please Peter”, you whispered, “Please”.

He lifted his face from the home he’d made in the crook of your neck. His pupils blown wide with lust. He sat up a little, and he felt too far away. His hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging the fabric up your body, exposing first your tummy and then your breasts. You helped him pull it over your head, forgetting about the cotton as soon as it hit the floor.

“You really are so beautiful”, the lust in Peter’s gaze set you ablaze. You needed him close again. You needed him skin to skin. You wanted to entangle yourself in him. To not know where he ended, and you began. You needed him.

Your hands found the back of his head, pulling him in for another needy kiss. He hissed as you immediately deepened it. You tasted his blood. It covered your lips, your tongue, your teeth. Your whole body screamed Peter, Peter, Peter. A pact between you formed, signed in blood.

A trail of red kisses traced after him down your body. Soft presses against the top of your breasts, slowing down over your tummy as he got closer and closer to where you ached for him. You held your breath. The anticipation thick in the air. Then he locked eyes with you, and it was like the world stood still. A shuddered breath escaped you as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss over your clothed clit.

“Fuck…” you whispered.

He raised his head at your curse, his gaze sticking to your face. The air between you was heavy. He brushed a featherlight finger over your clit, making you mewl under him. Gently he pressed down a little harder, his finger running through your folds where your arousal had started to seep through the fabric. You were so wet, it almost hurt.

Then his eyes met yours again, an unspoken connection formed between the two of you. With a nod of your head and a “Please, Peter”, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs.

With your panties discarded on the floor, he shifted to lay down on his tummy between your legs. His face hovered over your cunt, but his eyes were fixated on your face. A curl rested lazily on his forehead, the swirling bruise of blues, yellows and purples stained his right eye, while his lips were crimson red.

You ached for his touch. His hands traced the back of your legs to your knees, soft and gentle. Slowly he pulled your legs apart, spreading you open for him, and exposing your wet core.

He leaned against your inner thigh, his eyes still on you. His cheek tender against your warm skin. Your heartbeat pulsed in your ears. The tension between the two of you was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

The knife flickered in your mind’s eye, the silver catching in the glimmer in the warmth of his. It twisted and moved behind your ribcage. A feeling. A thought. A warmth. It exploded from the center of your being, traveling in all directions. Through your veins, down your arms, down your legs, filling you up.

Under him you burned. How could he make you feel like this? Why did he do this to you? Pulling you under him, gasping for his touch. How pathetic you were to need him so much.

He moved his head, brushing his cheek against your skin, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, moving slowly. Finally, he leaned forward. His lips pressed against your clit, before he wrapped them around your aching bud. He circled his tongue around it, before he gently sucked. Your fingers intertwined in his soft curls, guiding his face down, while breathy moans left your lips. He continued lapping at your clit, earning himself a symphony of whines, moans, and whimpers.

When your chest started to heave, he sucked even harder on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You felt a finger run through your folds, coating it in your arousal before it poked at your entrance. You were so close, clenching down on nothing in anticipation. Then his finger entered you.

“Fuck” the swear came out as a rushed whisper. He hummed around your clit, the vibrations stimulating you even more. Then, at an agonizingly slow pace, he started to pump his finger inside you. Fuck, you were so close. He’d already had you on the edge, and now you were almost falling over.

He curled his finger, the pad pushing against your g-spot, and you were seeing stars. With a flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, everything came crashing down. You arched your back as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Clenching down hard around his finger, a silent cry left your lips. Under him you opened like a flower.

He didn’t let up, continuing to pump his finger and hitting your spot inside, while he sucked greedily on your clit. It was all too much. Your legs were shaking. Brushing your hand through his curls, you pushed his face away.

“I’m sorry” you breathed out, “I sh-should’ve told you I was close”. His face softened at your apology. You were still catching your breath, your chest moving at an erratic pace. Removing his finger, he sat up, before he climbed up your body like a predator sneaking up on his prey. He moved through the soft shadows of your darkened room.

“Don’t apologize, angel” he laughed quietly, shaking his head. Before you could utter a reply, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. The moment of clarity quickly melted away. His kiss making you forget what you were sorry for.

He kissed you hungerly. It was messy. It was desperate. You clung to him. Tasted yourself on his lips. Pulled his skin against yours. You needed him closer. And he needed it too. With a slow thrust of his hips, his hard, still clothed cock rubbed up against your cunt. You swallowed his gasp. You didn’t want to wait any longer. With an eager hand, you found the hem of his boxers, tugging them clumsily down.

His cock finally freed, you felt it heavy on your tummy, the length of him rubbing over your clit. Fuck, you needed him. Your hands cupped his cheeks as you pulled away from his desperate kiss. His forehead fell against yours, and your eyes locked with his. You gave him an affirmative nod, one he parroted with his own nod. Yes. He wanted this too.

The time stood still. His hand trailing down between your bodies moved in slow motion. Grabbing the base of his cock, he first ran the head over your clit and then your slit. A slick wet sound of your arousal filled the air. He lined himself up at your entrance, but then he hesitated, making a whine escape you.

“I want you Peter– please!”

“Fuck”, he cursed, pushing his cock into you slowly. He stretched your walls, going deep inside until he bottomed out. His hips flush against yours. Your mouth fell open with a short breath. You were one.

Stretching your neck, you brushed your lips over his, swallowing his moans as he started to move, thrusting into you at a slow pace. You wrapped your arms around his neck. His chest flush against yours.

He picked up the pace, thrusting into you a little harder. His hands wrapped around your waist. He held you in place. His grip arched your back a little, making his cock hit a new angle inside you, pushing the head of his cock right up against your spot with each thrust.

Something shifted in the air. His thrusts were steady, but desperate. And with the way his eyebrows knitted together, you knew he was starting to get close to his own release.

“Fuck Peter!” you gasped as he continued to hit your spot. He thrusted into you a few more times before he quickly pulled out, coming with a grunt and a “shit!”, spilling his cum over your tummy, painting it in ropes of white.

The bed dipped as he laid down beside you, his arm brushing up against yours. Both of you catching your breaths as a silence fell over you in the dark. With a clumsy motion, his hand reached for yours, locking them together.

He gave your hand a squeeze. You didn’t know what he meant.

previous: one | next: three

tags: @hollandweather​, @peterdarlingg​, @starsval​, @luciwritesstuff​, @mayal0pez​, @lnmp89​, @justapurrcat​, @sparklingsin​, @silkscream​,

#peter parker #spider man #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spider man x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader #spider man fanfiction #spider man fic #peter parker fic #spider man smut #spider man angst #tom holland smut

[cockdestroyer32]

home.

peter b. parker x fem!reader

word count: 2190

summary: you're used to taking care of peter, but today, you're sick, and he's ready to take care of you.

a/n: yes him again what about it

-

The apartment was awfully quiet. The sounds of a knife tapping against a cutting board and of water bubbling inside a pot were replaced by an irritatingly calming, yet uncanny, sound of nothing. Peter could hear the occasional car honking from the busy streets of New York underneath him and the distant sound of the television in your bedroom, but he still missed the sound of your voice babbling to him about the most random thing in the entire planet, all so he wouldn’t linger in the moment he had to sign the paper that definitively cut the string that tied him and MJ together. You’d sit next to him and the both of you would have dinner while watching an episode of one of those random detective shows that always seem to be on TV at any hour, and just for a little while, things would feel normal. But that’s not happening today, nor on any day of the rest of the week. ‘Cause you’re sick. 

When you get sick, you act like you’re on death’s door. You’ll just lie in bed all day looking like a baby who got their favorite toy taken away. And you get clingy. When you and Peter were both 20, living together in a tiny apartment after college robbed you of every last dime, it was normal for you to cling to him during these moments. The flu brought out a sort of neediness in you you didn’t understand. The first time it’d happened, he’d snickered and very gently pushed you away after, a very generous, 10 minutes of hugging. Defeated, you retrieved to your room, throwing your body on the mattress, where you lay on your stomach, your cheek and the corner of your upper lip squished and elevated from your awkward position. You didn’t even get under the blankets, so melodramatically tired you refused to lift the covers over your shoulders. Though hours later, you’d found Peter had done it for you instead, his head buried on your shoulder and his arm draped over your ribs.

You were 99% sure he did it because he felt guilty. Deep down, Peter B. Parker had always been a softie.

You’d gotten used to your sickly routine, though when Peter met Mary Jane, and shortly after you met your own partner, the snuggling obviously stopped. Peter got down on one knee for MJ and both of you moved out of the little apartment you’d learned to call home. 

Now at 38 and with a divorce on his belt, Peter’s the one clinging to you. It’d be kind of funny really, if it wasn’t for how crushing it was to have to hold him as he held back tears.

But today there were no tears. In fact, there was none of the slouching or huffing or eyebrow furrowing that’d plagued Peter for the past month. He’d felt…normal, for once. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t thinking of the red hair and the dimples and freckles, he was thinking of the arms that wrapped around him and held him tight every day for the last 30 days, the voice that told him it was okay and the hands that stroked his hair and made them dinner every night. The hands that were clutching to a blanket at this very moment. 

He got up.

He was worried for you. Yes, it was just the flu, but he knows how you get. Plus, after how you’ve taken care of him the last month the least he could do was…well, everything.

He walked over to your bedroom and very slowly nudged the door that had already been open a few inches. Inside, you were in bed, underneath the covers, one end of the blanket tucked under your head as you used it as a pillow. There was that familiar frown, your eyes looking like you might just start crying at any second, though they’re never glassy, the lips that almost pout, and quiver every now and then when you shut your eyes tightly as you just can’t bear the stuffy nose and scratchy throat anymore. 

It is a strangely adorable sight.  

You look at the TV, though Peter is almost sure you’re not paying attention, and you don’t look at Peter who now stands at the doorway either, you probably see him there, you’re just too grumpy to look or say anything. Another thing Peter is almost sure about.

Peter’s hand reaches for the back of his shoes and he pulls them off, dropping them to the ground without much care. Now displaying his white socks, he crawls into bed beside you and drops his body on the mattress with a groan. He stares at your back and the bit of your cheek he can spot for a little while, before finally speaking up.

“Wanna cuddle?” he asks.

“Oh, thank God,” you flip around on the bed, not wasting a second as you wrap your arms around him and gleefully place your cheek over his chest. He chuckles and puts his palm on the back of your head, cradling it. Comfy.

“You sure this is alright with you?” you ask quietly, not opening your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he says. “I kind of missed this actually…”

“…You missed me clinging to you while I can’t stop coughing and have a runny nose?” Despite how worn-out you feel, you smile. You’ll always have the energy to poke fun at him. He laughs.

“I mean…it does feel like old times a little bit, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.”

“…Remember when we stayed in bed all day binging The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, I do.”

“It was a good day.”

“It was nice, yeah.” you reply, a tiny smile covering your lips. Though it’s quickly cut off by a nasty, old-man cough arising from the back of your throat which makes you have to lean your head back and away from the warmth of Peter’s chest, releasing the cough against the fabric of the hoodie that covers your elbow. Peter looks down at you, his hand that had been stroking your hair up until this point not ceasing.

“You alright?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Though the tiny smile is gone from your face and you’ve gone back to your usual “sickly” expression. You rest your head back on his chest.

“You need your nutrients, have you been eating?”

“Yeah, mostly snacks. I don’t have the energy to cook.”

“I could make you some chicken soup if you’d like.” His voice is oh, so genuine, but you stay quiet for far too long, your silence telling a whole story. A new smile forms on your lips.

“That won’t be necessary,” you reply, a chuckle leaving your lips at the end of the sentence.

“What?” He smiles widely, “My chicken soup is not that bad!” 

“Yes, it is. It’s terrible, Peter.” Another chuckle escapes you.

“My cooking is not as bad as you say it is.” 

“It is. The first time I tried your chicken soup, I swear I wound up sicker than how I already was. I’m pretty sure you gave me a stomach bug.”

“No, I did not!” He exclaims, laughing.

“Yes, you did!” You say, “For the rest of the week I was so lightheaded and nauseated, I don’t know what the hell you put in there but I could swear I was turning into a zombie.”

You both laugh, “I’m sorry, you just do not have Aunt May’s skills.”

He sighs, his laughter calming down though a wide smile still plays at his lips. He pulls you closer to him again. “Well, no one does.”

“That’s true.” You bury your face against his chest, your nose right in front of his heart. His frame is much bigger than yours, and his whole body can envelop yours with ease, like securing you in a little tent of warmth. 

Peter doesn’t even notice you dozed off. And when he does his arm reaches for the remote controller on the nightstand, his other hand holding the back of your head as he tries not to wake you up. 

He could leave, of course. But he won’t. He’d be lying if he said it was purely out of the desire to care for you. He did want to, but it was mostly for him. He wanted to have you in his arms and to stroke your messy hair and pretend like you two were back in your tiny New York apartment, trying to figure your lives out, long before any of the draining life stuff had happened. He closes his eyes, and for a second, you’re both 20 again, and he hears the distant sounds of a laugh track fade out in the background.

Peter wakes up to the sound of retching. He’s lying on his other side now, his belly and cheek pressed against the mattress as his eyes slowly open to stare at the dresser in front of him. It’s darker in the room, and he’s not sure what time it is. There’s a sob and more retching, and Peter turns his head. His eyes squint and close as he notices the bathroom light is on, and the door is wide open. He sees you’re not in bed and only then does his muzzy brain process the fact that the retching sounds are coming from you. You’re throwing up. He flings the covers aside and gets out of bed, hurriedly making his way to the bathroom. When he gets to the door he sees you sitting before the toilet, expelling the rejected matter from your stomach. He quickly kneels down beside you and pulls your hair back, holding the strands in his palm like a makeshift ponytail. His other hand rubs circles on your back.

“Hey, hey…it’s alright, get it out,” he says soothingly, and when you sniffle, that’s when he tilts his head and notices the tears under your eyes. He catches sight of your wet eyelashes and scrunched-up face right before you bend over the toilet again, throwing up some more. He caresses your back more vigorously. 

Once the spew is out of your mouth, you cry, “I’m sorry.”

“What? What are you sorry for?” You don’t answer, but he didn’t really expect you to. You sniffle and sit back down on the ground, letting your body fall against the tile behind you, leaning your head against it. “You okay? You done?” Peter’s hand caresses the side of your face, pushing your hair away from your face. You nod, your eyes are still tightly shut and you look even more miserable than usual.

“I really hate being sick,” you say, finally looking at Peter, almost as a plea.

He chuckles softly, “I know, sweetheart,” He’s never called you that before, but considering your current situation you don’t think it as absurd.

“I didn’t wanna wake you up, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m glad I was able to be here for you.”

“I know, but…you shouldn’t have to deal with this, this is so nasty.”

“Oh, it’s not nasty,” he shakes his head, looking down. You tilt your head at him. “Alright, maybe it’s a liiiittle nasty.” You smile and let out a chuckle, he does the same. “C’mere,” he says, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. You rest your cheek on his chest, keeping your lips away from his shirt. He strokes the back of your head again.

“You’re the best flu buddy anyone could ever ask for,” you state and he laughs.

“I don’t think so. I mean…at least your partners could make you soup.”

“Oh, who cares about that? You do this for me instead. And you’re the only one who does it well.” 

Peter’s heart inexplicably jumps, and he’s forced to take in a deep breath. For reasons he doesn’t understand, he fully relaxes into your arms.

“Well…good, ‘cause I’m not letting go.”

You chuckle. He makes you feel safe, but he doesn’t think you know you do the exact same for him. Sure, he’s being the lifeboat you need tonight but you’ve been that for him the whole month. In fact, you’ve been that for him for as long as he could remember. So if he had to hold your hair back as you threw up or rub your back or give you medicine or learn how to make some goddamn chicken soup for you, he would. He would do it a hundred times over if it made you feel even a little bit better.

He continues to rub your back and you two remain seated on the bathroom floor. It’s not the prettiest situation, but still, Peter doesn’t feel the need to close his eyes and listen closely for a laugh track. Right now is just perfect.

You keep your head on his chest for a while, before finally lifting it up and looking to the toilet, your hand raising to close the seat and flush.

“Oh, would you look at that?” you say.

“What?”

“That looks like your chicken soup.”

#peter b. parker #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x y/n #peter b parker x you #into the spider verse #ac repair #spider man into the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man itsv fic #spider man fic #spider man x reader #peter parker x reader

[int-writersmind]

I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker! {Part 1}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step one of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday. 

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: I decided to put a Christmas song suggestion for immersion, not b/c I'm currently in love with Laufey right now...

~

“You what?!” exclaimed Peter, quite loudly.

“Jesus, calm down,” You lean forward, just slightly, over the table, careful to not tip your mug of half decent hot coffee. “All I said was that I don’t really like Christmas that much, that’s all.” 

“You Grinch! You Scrooge!” Peter throws his hands up in an over exaggerated motion, he looked like an oversized toddler. Peter puts on a slight pout as he leaned against the wall, feet outwards, looking over the rest of the coffee shop. “I-I mean, you live in New York City, this place practically invented contemporary Christmas!”

“Now that’s an exaggerated statement.”

“I know that,” Peter turns back to you, folding his hands on top of the table. “But there’s a reason why so many Christmas movies are set here, why so many Christmas events are here. It’s because Christmas is just better in NYC!”

“More like Christmas is more annoying in NYC.” You gently pat Peter’s hand before downing the rest of your drink. “Peter, babe, honey, I’ve lived here my whole life don’t you think I don’t know all this?”

“Yeah, babe-honey, so have I. It’s why I love the holidays.”

“And that's why I hate the holidays!”

~

You thought Peter would grow bored of your Christmas conversation on your way out the coffee shop and down the street, but he only continued his long rant. It was the first day of December and with the new month came the sudden spark of festive, holiday flare, much to your chagrin. The addition of a new holiday drink at your favorite coffee shop had sparked the conversation in the first place. Peter had ordered it and once you decline the same, suddenly came the sudden barrage of questions. 

The two of you held hands as you continued down the long city sidewalk, Peter using his other hand to gesture wildly about Christmas. You decide that enough is enough and pull Peter off to the side, dodging tourists with tons of shopping bags. You reach out for Peter’s other hand, bringing it down with the other, squeezing ever so gently. “Listen, Peter, I appreciate how passionate you are about Christmas, the holidays and what-not, but there’s nothing you can say to convince me to suddenly fall in love with this time of year. This feeling has been there for years.”

Peter looks into your eyes and for a minute it seems as if his attention is elsewhere until he jolts in surprise, eyes widening to match. “I’ve got it!”

You can’t help but roll your head back in defeat. “Oh no…”

“Maybe you're right,” Peter squeezes your hands, bringing your attention back to him. “Maybe there isn’t anything I can say to you to convince you that Christmastime is the best time of year, but I can do things instead.”

“Oh Peter! You naughty little reindeer..” You tease.

“I don’t mean that!” Peter quickly kisses your grinning face, “That could be on the list only after–”

“After?!”

“Only after you complete my list of activities that will definitely, 100 percent make you fall in love with Christmas and everything that comes with it.”

“Oh, you have a list?” You cock one eyebrow up.

“Hypothetical list, it’s being finalized.” Peter pulls you in close, his hands resting on the small of your back, your hands resting on his chest. “But I think I know what to do first. Do you have a Christmas tree? Decorations?”

“Tree, yes, my roommate left one before she left. Decorations…no, I’m sure my cousin has some extra, I’ll stop by after work today.”

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your place later tonight?”

“Yeah, and–,” You move in closer to Peter, eyes shut, lips millimeters away from each other. “Your little list is not gonna change my mind.” You kiss him gently, one hand resting on his cheek before pulling away, Peter slightly chasing you back. “See you tonight.”

~

“I can already tell i’m gonna hate this” You hold up a shiny red, classic looking ornament by the wire, looking at it as if it was dead fish caught on a hook.

“What?! You have the easy job!” Peter calls back as he clicks the last piece of your ex roommate’s Christmas tree together.

It was night now, Daylight Savings causing the city to look later than it actually was. The two of you had stayed committed to this little game of Peter’s. After calling your cousin about picking up some spare decor (which she eagerly shoved into your arms), and lugging the oversized box on the train back to your place, Peter showed up with a determined expression and a carton of egg-nog. 

You take out the other ornaments from their box, inspecting each one, before setting it off to the side. Peter saunters over and plops on the floor next to you, going through the rest of the box to find more decorations for the tree. “This feels tedious.” you say, looking at all the stuff you laid before you.

“Oh c’mon, this will be great.” Peter says as he untangles some garland.

“That’s what you said about the egg-nog.”

“Yes, yes I did say that, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve never tried egg-nog until today so…that’s on me.”

You smile at him as you take the final ornament from the box in hand, a golden ball that had swirls molded into the plastic. “Ok let’s decorate this stupid tree.”

~

Half an hour in, with tolerable Christmas music playing in the background, the tree was finally starting to come along. You and Peter stood on either side of the tree, hooking various ornaments on branches. As the last ornament looped on, Peter went over to the box to pick up the garland he detangled earlier as you stood back and admired the tree. 

“See, beautiful.” Peter said coming up from behind you.

“What, me? Of course.”

Peter just rolls his eyes as he hands you one end of the garland, you each start to place it around the tree, passing the end from one hand to the other. “Doesn’t this remind you of being a little kid, putting up all your favorite ornaments?”

You just shrug your shoulders, “The older I got I just dreaded putting up the tree. It’s started out fine of course. But then someone puts the wrong ornament somewhere, or one side of the tree lights are not working, a favorite ornament gets broken…boom arguments. Mom, Dad, pissed at one another, little ole me just trying get the hell out of dodge.”

Peter gets the end of the garland, securing it at the bottom of the tree. “Sounds like…an experience.”

You just smile at him as he comes to stand next to you. The two of you look at the tree, its soft, golden white lights, the shiny, almost sparking ball ornaments on each branch.  “No, no, it’s ok, my parents love each other, but they're just…really good at arguing with one another. I, personally, don't care for it, so I try my best to avoid it.” You reach for Peter’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his. “After my dad accidently broke one of my favorite ornaments and got into a fit with Mom, I just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. Swore off decorating Christmas trees.” You lean your head on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s funny, I wasn’t even that mad that it broke…”

“What was it?” Peter rests his head on yours.

“Some old time-y phone box, something silly I saw at a Christmas pop-up when I was like 6-7 years old.”

The two of you just stand there in the silence for a moment.

“Pick a new one.”

You move your head off Peter’s shoulder, turning to look at him, “What?”

“Pick a new favorite ornament.” Peter answers, “You don’t have to keep it forever, but it can just be your favorite for this year.”

“Hmm, fine.”

Your eyes skim over the tree, you land on the red ornament before jumping to the golden one, before your eyes find something much more garnish. A little ceramic coffee cup, what better to remind you of how you ended up here. Decorating a tree for the first time in years with your boyfriend who’s hellbent on getting you to like the holiday again.

Your fingers wrap on the ornament, lifting it off its branch, “How about this?”

“Prefect.” Peter says as you hold up the ornament in hand, the light glinting off the piece. Peter tosses something in the air upwards, shooting some webs to stick it to the ceiling. You put the ornament back in its original spot before looking at Peter. “Oh, wow what’s that?”

You look up, mistletoe dangling crookedly. “You know those things are poisonous right?"

“To eat, not to kiss under,” Peter pulls you in close by the waist, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. “Plus it’s fake.”

Your own eyes glance at Peter’s mouth before looking back at his eyes, “Just because I didn’t run away from decorating a tree, you think you deserve a kiss?” You smirk, a hand going to the back of his neck.

“Oh come here you little Grinch.” With a soft hand on your cheek, Peter pulls you in for a kiss. Those lips, which you became so familiar with, soft and warm, sweetened by the eggnog, engulf yours. His tongue entering yours, playing with yours like it did so many times before. This action was so common, kissing each other was almost like second nature, but sometimes–like moments like this, it almost felt like kissing for the first time, but better. Kissing someone you could really trust, someone who really cared about. It was gushy and corny and everything else that people made fun of, but it was so worth it.

The two of you break off the kiss, foreheads resting on one another.

“So, step one of your list completed?” You ask.

“Nah.”

Your head shoots upwards, looking at Peter with a confused look, to which he chuckles at.

“We still have the rest of the apartment to decorate.”

You groan, falling limp in Peter’s arm. It was all for show of course, but you had to commit to the bit, letting all your weight on to Peter’s one arm. You knew not matter what, he wouldn’t drop you. “God I hate you.”

~

Hello there! Thanks for reading Part 1 of this multi-part X-mas fic that was definitely not inspired by me at all hahaha... Anyway, I'll post on Sundays to get this series done by Christmas but no promise, but expect weekly uploads at the very least. Also this is meant to be mostly Fluff but if you Naughty Reindeers want some Spice/Smut I'll think about it 😉. Alright bye Void!

{Read Part 2}

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man

[madmadmilk]

Come back home soon, guys. I’ll be waiting 🕷❤️✨ — drawn by me, @ noturjacky on IG

#back to schooool seasoonnn 😭 #they’re going where he can’t watch over them anymore but he trusts they’ll make their way back #until then he’s picked up an job or two and spends his free time thinking of how to break the news to them #lol Peter is begging them to update their social media #and they’re in their dorm rooms watching spidey updates #spider man #spiderman #spidey #spideychelle #Ned leeds #peter parker #Michelle Jones #peter parker fic #spider man fic #art #illustration #personal #madmadmilk #maddraws #wip #Tom holland #zendaya #Jacob batalon #no way home #nwh #marvel

[gracieparkerr]

in honour of my elusive fic update today, here are some tags from my fic that I find personally hilarious

#ao3 tags #funny ao3 tags #peter parker #flash thompson #spideyflash #marvel #mcu fic #my fic #ao3 fanfic #fic writing #ao3fic #spider man fic

[pparkermedia]

Would you make a smau with the reader being the horny one and peter the blushing one? Lol JAHSJAHAJA

hello, hello and thank you so much for my first request, ahhh! i really hope you enjoy it. 🫶🏼

- reblog please -

BURNIN' UP - P. PARKER

SUMMARY: You hitting on your boyfriend while eating with family and friends.

WARNINGS: cursing, mentions of sex, “nudes”, you being horny, cringing maybe lol

MASTERLIST

ೃ༄

taglist;

@pakerdadda - @parker-2 - @icarusafety

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker smau #peter parker #peter parker fic #mcu!peter #peter parker fanfic #tom holland fic #peter parker imagine #tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #tom holland spiderman #spider man fic

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

A-Z CHALLENGE- P.B PARKER

i wanted to hop on this, and discuss some thoughts about the baby boy <3 this has mature themes (smut etc) , so read with caution! pls enjoy love bugs!

ps, i mayyyy have added some quotes to go with some prompts lol

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

peter is so sweet and gentle. so sweet. though he may be more dominant in the moment, the second he’s made sure the both of you have finished he’s such a sweetheart. he always talks to you in a soft, gentle voice to soothe you, especially if you’re in deep sub space. peter always grabs a warm washcloth to clean you up, slips one of his shirts on you, and rubs circles on your back/ plays with your hair while the two of you snuggle. if you’re having a hard time sleeping, he’ll often watch a movie with you until you pass out.

“ daddy…?”

“no, no sweetheart it’s not daddy anymore, it’s peter now.”

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

hands. hands, hands, HANDS. he loves his hands, simply because he knows you ADORE THEM. he always catches you peeping at them, admiring them when you think he isn’t paying attention. he often wears rings on his fingers, letting you paint his nails the odd time. hair ties are a must, despite not needing them for himself… he just likes when you snap it against his wrist. peter loves ALL of you, every freckle, every stretch mark, every curve. but his favourite thing about you, is your eyes. how they glow and sparkle when you’re happy, how wide and full they seem when you’re excited. what look he adores most though, is when you’re fucked dumb, with tears in your eyes as he pounds into you.

“look at those pretty, pretty tears sweetheart? arent you just the cutest, despite being fucked dumb like some whore? my pretty little whore…”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

peter often cums inside you, as he has a major breeding kink… but he also loves finishing on your stomach, just so he can gather it on his finger and feed it to you.

“ want you to fill me please-“

“mmm you want me to stuff you full baby? have me drippin out of you for days?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

one time he stole your panties when you were sleeping and jacked off with them because he didn’t want to wake you. after your early morning shower, you slipped them on, not noticing the cum still in them… and he just smiled at you and kept his lips zipped SHUT.

“ you know those are my favourite panties you own sweetheart?”

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

BYE he is so experienced. peter may come off as this shy, quiet guy but ohmygod can he FUCK. he found your g-spot before YOU did.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

doggy but in the mirror, so he can force you to look at yourself while he fucks you. eye contact, the entire time.

“ look how beautiful you are when i’m stuffing your guts sweetheart. eyes on me, if you know what’s good for you.”

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

50/50. let’s say the two of you smoked a blunt or somethin, he’d probably be more goofy/ soft. most nights though, he’s pretty serious, but in a mocking sense.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he is sooo well groomed. yes his hair is always sorta messy in that boyish charm way, but he’s very clean. he always smells kinda woody- very, very comforting.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

peter parker is such a little love bug. it truly depends on the time, punishment or not. if he’s giving you a punishment, he’s never too mean about it, often holding your hand when he spanks you or wipes your tears etc. he’s mostly very, very loving, reminding you how beautiful you are and how much he truly adores you.

“shhh, shush honey. i know it hurts, i know sweet girl but you gotta learn okay? i know what’s good for you, i promise it’ll be over soon.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

if he comes back from parol and you’re fast asleep, and he’s feeling generous, he gets off without you awake. though he does it right beside you in bed, often rubbing his cum on your body so you’ll wake up with it all smeared all over your skin as a good morning gift<3

“good morning my little sunshine… do you like your gift?”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

BREEDING. SOMETHING ABOUT THIS MAN MAKES ME FEEL LIKE HES SO INTO BREEDING!!! and he’s super into biting, marking, scratching. he loves reciving and giving love bites.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

peter’s super into the “ we shouldn’t do it here but let’s do it anyways and maybe get caught” thing. so he’s down for anywhere, anytime. science labs, libraries, bathrooms, you name it. he likes fucking you in the shower most of all, just so he can take his time and clean you up at the same time. peter loves licking the water droplets on your skin and ADORES holding you up against the tiles.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

your shyness. he loves when you’re needy, yet flustered. you sometimes to get scared to tell him directly that you need him, so you’ll tug at his hand or give him a little look.

“awh what’s wrong little one? can you use your big girl words and tell daddy what you need?”

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

piss kink. nOpE.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

GIVING GIVING GIVING. PETER IS SUCH A GIVER!!!! he loves going down on you, teasing you with the pace of his movements. he loves the feeling when your fingers tug on his hair when he’s feasting on you, and he’ll always make direct eye contact when you’ve finished, licking his lips. he also likes receiving, because the sight of you on your knees sends him over the EDGE.

when you tug his hair, or rut against his face he often says shit like “thats such a good girl baby, take what you need.” or “ keep those legs opened honey, im not done my dinner yet.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

both. he often switches it up, just to be a tease ;) but let’s say he’s having a rough night, he’ll be hard and rough, taking it out on you. some nights, it’s love making, not animalistic fucking. all depends on the mood with peter.

“yeah that’s it, you’re gonna take it like a good girl aren’t you? my good girl, letting me use her to get off. youre so well trained sweetheart.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he kinda hates quickies bc he likes to take his time unraveling you. but if you’re super needy, or vise versa, quickies are a must, often in public. be prepared for a LONG night when u get home tho

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

anything you want to try, peter is up for. he wants to make YOU comfortable. he wants to give YOU pleasure. although if he offers something, and it’s something you’re even SLIGHTLY iffy on, he never ever pushes it. he only does things when it’s been 100% consented with you and him.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

sometimes he fucks you while youre passed out. so yeah. hes got STAMINA.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

when he saw you using a pillow to get off, he thought it was ADORABLE. but he wanted you to have actual toys, so he’s bought you some to play with when he’s away. BUT he makes you send him recordings and photos, cause he’s mean like that<3 he uses them on you whenever you’re in the mood, although handcuffs are never needed as he has his webs to tie you down ;)

“Too much peter! s’too much-“

“now didn’t i buy you this for a reason sweetheart? dont let these batteries go to waste…”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

is this even a question. this is PETER fricken PARKER we are talking about. oh my god it’s ALL the time. he always traces shapes on your skin, mainly your inner thighs so he can watch them clench together when you get wet from his actions. he adores whispering the filthiest things to you in public to make you squirm, and he often plays with your hair, just to tug on it ever so slightly to make you gasp.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

LOUD LOUD LOUDDDD!!! always talking, always praising. even if it’s in the mean, dumbfication way. you’re not a slut, you’re his slut <33

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

OKAY SOOOO IM THINKINN

peter loves when you suck on his fingers. or play with them. he just loves the feeling of your tongue swirling around them, you look so innocent. hes obsessed with thigh riding as well. when you’re cleaning him up some nights, sitting on his thigh to get a cut, he’ll bounce his knee just to get you going. he’s HUGE into dumbfication and mocking. he also does that thing where he guides your hips to dry hump him when you’re making out

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

he is a timid, shy lil nerd who dresses like THAT. is this even a thought we must have. he is HUNG.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

his tingles have everything heightened, so very, very high. everyday. if he can get his hands on you, he will<33

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

fairly quickly, as he feels safe and SUPER comfortable with you. peter always makes sure you’re asleep first tho, and taken care of. he plays with your hair or tells you stories until you pass out, THEN he’ll hit the hay right beside you, holding you close.

“m’sleepy peter…”

“awh poor thing, did I tire you sweetheart? close those pretty little eyes honey and have sweet dreams. im right here with you.”

#peter parker x smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x fluff #peter parker x fem #peter parker spiderman #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fluff #spiderman masterlist #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fluff #spiderman smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman #spider man fanfiction #spider man fic #spider man far from home #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!spider man #tasm!peter parker #andrew!peter smut #andrew!peter fluff #tasm peter smut #tasm peter parker #andrew!peter fanfiction #andrew!peter imagine

[iamaboredpotatonugget]

Best Penny Parker Fics Part 1

Mr. Stark is dead.

It's her fault.

Even in heaven, there is a touch of hell. Penny experiences that in one of the worst ways and doesn't know how to live with the pain and worse-how to live with the pain alone.

Penny Parker was sure that someone would die; either she would kill her family for embarrassing her, or her family would kill Flash for bullying her.

Penny had felt something sick and afraid in her stomach at the way Sam Wilson had looked at her mentor…at the way both of them had looked at her. Or maybe she’d just been imagining it. Maybe her own memories had been coloring her thoughts. Still, the next words had come almost before she’d decided to say them.

“We’ve met, actually.” Penny had told them, holding out a hand to Sam, smirking just a little. As if on autopilot, he had taken her hand, shaking it once, but not squeezing. She made up for squeezing his hand just a little too hard. “You threw me out a window.”

Penny Parker had lost all hope of feeling warm ever again.

She had failed her favorite hero, May had died in a car crash and she had been tossed around from bad foster home to slightly less bad foster homes for the past six months.

She got through each day only to lie awake in her bunk each night and wait for the next day.

That was until she met a baby calico kitten with the whole world stacked against it.

She had been a hero for over a year, maybe she could do it one last time?

While the Avengers try and fail to hunt down Spider-Man, Penny Parker hides the fact that she's a foster kid living in a group home. When Tony Stark takes her in, what will happen?

Pepper’s shocked face finally registered to Tony and he looked at her in question. Her eyes flicked between him and Penny before he still shrugged that he didn’t understand the expression.

“Spider-Man?” She said with emphasis on the last work.

“Misnomer,” Penny answered for him as she turned.

“Tony once said that you’d kill for me.”

Natasha gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret. Then she shrugged. “I’ve killed for far worse reasons.”

In the few months after Penny’s disastrous Homecoming night, the Stark and Parker families figure out how to find common ground.

Penny hadn't really had birthdays. And especially not parties.

But, with Pepper pregnant and every moment being dedicated to the coming baby, Penny is really looking forward to this one day.

#fanfic #fanfic rec #ao3 link #ao3 recs #fandom #fanfiction reccomendations #avengers fandom #avengers fanfiction #spider man fandom #spider girl #spider man #spiderman #spider man fic #penni parker #penny parker #female peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #spider son #spider man fanfiction

[spicler-man]

aaaand the fic where i go on too many robotics tangents is FINISHED

@yes-i-am-happyaspie you wanted to read it, right?

#first robotics #spider man fic #spider-man #spider man #irondad #irondad and spiderson #this fic may be the most boring thing ive ever written to anyone who doesnt know anything about frc

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

cat and mouse

pairing: ps4!spider-man x blackcat!reader

wc: 744

warnings: only slight sexual tension. no y/n use ‘cat’ as a nickname.

A/N: not really spooky or fall but i just used this as an excuse to do another blackcat reader since the first one was when my writing was….horrible. also I just want the both of them so badly!!!!!

masterlist / peter parker

the chase was always the best part of the hunt. the thrill of the game knowing you’ll always out run his reach, another night of getting away with your earnings. but you did like when he caught you every now and again, hands pining you hard to the ground, chest panting with adrenaline.

you always had the urge to reach up and tug his mask free, probably why there was always a tight grip on your wrist. probably able to read your mind, hear your thoughts and desires.

or because you’ve verbally said one night, “would love a peek under the mask, spidey. bet your real handsome.”

you enjoy the position the chase forces the two of you into. him on top, gloved hands having firm but non-bruise touches, his thighs straddling you on the side of your hips. you pretending to be defenseless on the bottom, lightly shuffling your body around. you always get away though, just a little bad luck on your side to slip free for the night.

tonight was another night of this cat and mouse game. you running and leaping over rooftops with a bag of high tech strapped to your back with spider-man swinging and shooting webs to slow you down in anyway, you just cut yourself free with your claws though.

“thought you could do better, spidey!” yelling over the wind, voice airy and teasing. a sneaky glance over your shoulder you saw as his red and blue suit glided in the air before shooting another web for momentum.

“and i thought we’ve done this dance before, cat!” he managed to land just in front of you on the rooftop, blocking your straightforward run. you skidded to a stop, fixing your posture to straight and narrow.

“we’re so good at this song and dance, why stop? best part of my nights.” slow seductive steps closer, but keeping a safe distance for now.

spider-man sat his hands to his hips, his own feet moving him closer, “well if you didn’t work on the bad side of the law this could all be different.”

a low purr at that, “oh really?” two steps closer, “how so? saying you want to work together? be partners in crime fighting?” the gap was closing.

his shrugged and swept a hand through the air, “wouldn’t that be better than running around for crime bosses? underestimating you? treating you like eye candy?”

just a foot left between the both of you, “they know not to underestimate me. and if it was the two of us, you’d be the eye candy. haven’t you seen the gossip blogs?”

now you couldn’t see the body or face under the suit and mask, but you noticed the way he stuttered in his steps and how his head snapped over quickly.

adding the stutter in his words, “wh- what do they…. what do they say?” left hand rubbing at the back of his head.

a simply shrug with your shoulders, kicking the tips of your boots into air while walking into spider-man’s orbit. “you know… good body build and height. love hearing you talk in any form,” sharp index finger claw skated across his chest, “love the air of mystery behind the superhero.”

and before a nail could slip under the seam of the webbed mask, spider-man held your wrist. his narrowed bug eyes staring you down, “bad idea, cat.”

“aww, but i’m all for bad ideas.” and with a little bad luck on your side you were able to adjust your stance and managed to twisting spider-man’s air and throw him to the ground while rolling atop him. knees sitting on the sides of his hips with palms holding his chest down. his gloves hands grasped at your hips tight.

“i certainly love this position. too bad it can’t be a different situation.” leaning in close with hooded eyes and lonely lips.

spider-man tilted his chin up and you could hear the smirk in his words, “well, never say never.” and it genuinely caused a stir in your belly, him never one to shamelessly flirt back with you. you liked it.

“maybe another night, spidey.” moving your head to the side of his face and planting a lingering kiss to his masked cheek. then whispering low, “can’t wait for next time.” and you ran like a shadow into the dark night, stolen goods still in your possession. along with spider-man’s heart, something you plan to steal every time.

-

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x blackcat!reader #spider-man #spider man fic #spider man imagine #spider-man x reader #spiderman ps4 #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #spiderman marvel #marvel imagine

[shellshocklove]

one: thick skull | peter parker

pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader

summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.

warnings: swearing, unrealistic description of art school?

word count: 4.1k

a/n: i hope you guys like this one too! feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

series masterlist / main masterlist

The snow squeaked under your shoes as you stepped through the doors of the arts building. The ESU campus square bustled with students, even in the January cold. You pulled your coat tighter around your body before you stuck your mitten clad hands in your coat pockets.

Today had not been your day. Your early morning class had turned into a peer critique, and some of your classmates needed to learn what constructive criticism was. You were not even a week into the first project of the semester, and you had barely started on your first sketches.

You were supposed to use your chosen medium to make something that reflected difficult periods in your life. Your professor, an aging hippie, wanted to quote: “Immediately feel your pain”, when looking at your pieces. Was this the university’s answer to the sad excuse for “therapy” drop-in hours they were offering at the Counseling Services' office?

Either way, the assignment was a big opportunity. If you were lucky, and your professor liked your art, you could be chosen to show your art in a real gallery. And not just any gallery, one of the hottest galleries in Manhattan. The gallery owner was a good friend of your professor, and once a year the gallery would open its doors to a one night only show – showing art from five lucky ESU students. And you, you wanted to be one of those lucky five!

You made your way across the campus square. Your head aimed at your shoes in an unsuccessful attempt to shield your face from the biting wind, as thoughts and ideas about your assignment bounced around in your head.

Ugh!

Something hit you hard, like a brick wall. The force you collided with knocked the wind out of your lungs as you stumbled backwards. The slippery ice underneath your shoes gave you no secure ground to steady yourself, making you slip. But before you hit the ground someone grabbed your hand, pulling you back up on your feet.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” you heard a familiar voice say. His hand still holding yours as the other wrapped around your shoulder, keeping you upright.

“Peter what the fuck!? You need to slow down! Crashing into you, is like crashing into a ten-ton truck” you shrugged off his arm.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you– and I’m late for class” he said defending himself.

You huffed and turned to look at him. His hair was disheveled, his curls bouncing in all directions. His cheeks were painted in a rosy hue, matching the small bruise adorning the corner of his mouth. He always seemed to have some sort of bruise. They appeared as fast as they were gone. And every time you saw him, he was sporting new ones. You often wondered where he’d get them.

You hadn’t seen him since that night in Harry’s penthouse, when he’d agree to be in your band. Finals had kept you busy, and he wasn’t there for the last Sunday dinner before Christmas either. Not that Peter usually came to those Sunday dinners, but you’d thought that maybe he would now, since he was part of the band.

“What are you wearing Peter?” you sighed.

The January air was ice cold, and he was sporting a thin open jacket over a graphic tee with some science pun you didn’t understand. His feet were clad in his usual beat-up All Stars, probably already wet from the snow.

“It’s freezing today!” you grabbed a hold of the zipper of his jacket, “We have the gig soon– you can’t be sick at our first gig!”. You zipped up his jacket before you grabbed a hold of your scarf. “Here” you said, tying it around his neck.

He sighed your name like a protest.

“And take this too!” you ignored him and pulled your beanie off. You raised your arms over his head, pulling it down over his ears. “And my mittens!” you handed them over.

He sighed your name again. “I can’t take these! Now you’ll be cold”. He didn’t take your mittens.

“I have more at home don’t worry! Elijah made me so many scarfs, and beanies and mittens from the yarn he had left over from one of his projects last semester– please just take them!”.

“Are you sure?” he didn’t look convinced.

“Yes! I’m sure– here!”.

Letting out another sigh he took your mittens, slipping them on over his almost blue hands. You caught a glimpse of his bruised knuckles, before they were covered by the rainbow striped yarn.

“Thank you! They’re warm! You warmed them up for me” he said awkwardly. He looked a little silly, but he also looked a little cute with your chunky scarf tightly wrapped around his neck and his curls sticking out from under your beanie.

“You’re welcome, Peter!” you smiled.

You both looked at each other for a beat too long, making you feel like you were in an awkward staring contest. You cleared your throat and Peter’s eyes shifted to something behind you. This must be the longest conversation you’d ever had with him.

“Um… I need to get going” his mitten clad hand came up to rub the back of his neck. He did that a lot.

“I’m so late for class right now” he grimaced, “But thank you!”.

You nodded your head, “Yeah of course! No problem!”.

He gave you one of those quick polite white people smiles that made him look like an emoticon, before he awkwardly gave you a wave, leaving you behind by the campus fountain.

“Um, Peter?” you asked, making him turn around.

“Huh?”.

“If you’re not doing anything after your class…, would you like to meet up for lunch?”.

You didn’t know why you were asking him out to lunch. It wasn’t like you’d ever hung out before. But he’s your bandmate now. Even if you liked it or not, you should probably get to know him a little. Find out what it was about him that Harry liked so much.

“Um” he hesitated, and you felt your cheek heat up with embarrassment. You shouldn’t have asked. Why did you do that?

“Yeah, okay” he said to your surprise, “My class is over at noon– I can meet you at Coffee Bean around then?”.

You nodded your head as a faint smile ghosted over your lips, “Yeah, that sounds good!”.

“Okay” he returned your smile, “See you later then?”.

“Yes! See you later Peter!”.

He gave you a little wave before you watched him hurry over the campus square towards the science building.

After a quick trip back to your apartment, you were now seated in a squeaky chair by the window of Coffee Bean. The air smelled strongly of coffee as you waited for Peter to arrive.

You were starting to worry that Peter had stood you up, or just completely forgotten about you. A quick glance at your phone emphasized that he was already fifteen minutes late. Trying to remind yourself of Peter’s bad habit of seemingly never being punctual, you promised yourself to give him some more time. That didn’t stop you from replaying the scene from earlier though. He’d said yes, and he’d even given you a smile while doing so. But what if he didn’t want to meet up, planning on not showing up at all but saying yes just to be polite?

You pulled out your sketchbook and a soft pencil from your tote, opening it and flipping through it to the first empty page. Trying to ease your spiraling thoughts you let the pencil move across the paper.

When you’d arrived thirty minutes ago, the lunch rush had been in full swing. The line by the counter was long, and it seemed like the stream of people coming through the door – mostly ESU students – had been never ending. You were afraid that if Peter didn’t arrive soon, the table you’d managed to snatch would be taken from you.

You checked the time again. Another fifteen minutes had gone by. With a sigh, you shut your notebook. He’d stood you up.

You looked out the window one last time, leaning down to grab your tote by your feet, and then you saw him. Half running half walking towards the door, completely missing how you studied him from behind the glass. He looked just as disheveled as he’d done earlier, but he was still wearing your beanie, scarf, and mittens.

You watched as he entered the café, squeezing himself between the doorframe and a group of friends on their way out. He looked around the busy café for a second before his gaze landed on you. You lifted your hand in a small wave as his eyes locked with yours.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me” you said when he slumped down in the chair opposite you.

“I’m so sorry! Um… my professor wanted to talk to me about my… my lab report after class” he excused rather unconvincingly.

“Right…” you started, “It’s okay… do you want to get some lunch?”.

“Yeah!” he nodded, “I’m starving!”.

You both got in line. An awkward silence grew in the space between you and Peter. You rummaged through your brain for something to say, but you came up empty handed. Beside you, Peter rocked back and forth on his heels, giving you his emoticon smile whenever you glanced over at him.

“–it was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!! He just came swinging out of nowhere and stopped the truck RIGHT in front of me! I think the brakes were messed up or something– and Spider-Man just stopped it with his bare hands! It was IN-SANE!” you couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening between the people in front of you in line, “It happened right before I came here– only a block away!”.

“Did Harry tell you what happened right before you came back from the library– you know that day you joined the band?” you turned to ask Peter.

“Um, no?” Peter shook his head.

“You were lucky you got home when you did because there was a shootout right outside your guys’ apartment. Had you come home a little earlier you’d probably ended up right in the middle of it” you started.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah!” you nodded, “but that’s not the crazy part! I walked over to the window to see what was happening, right?”

“Right,”

“And then out of nowhere Spider-Man landed right on the window! He scared the shit out of me!” you chuckled, “And then we watched how he stopped the shootout and everything. He beat the shit out of those guys– it was seriously fucked up to watch! I thought he was supposed to be the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’ but there was nothing friendly about what we saw”, you shook your head.

Peter grimaced before he said, “That’s crazy!”.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “It was kinda horrible to watch to be honest”. Peter’s hand brushed the back of his neck as the silence fell over you guys again.

Speaking up, breaking the silence yet again you said, “Have you seen him before? Spider-Man I mean”.

“Um, yes actually! One time,” Peter nodded. You urged him to go on.

“It was a few years ago, I don’t know if you remember, but he saved a high school decathlon team at the Washington Monument once– this was before the blip”.

“Yeah, I remember” you nodded again.

“I was on that decathlon team–“.

“What!? Are you serious? That was like proper scary!” you cut him off.

“Yeah… I wasn’t in the elevator though. I saw it all from the ground” he shrugged, “Scared of heights–”

“NEXT!” the barista yelled, interrupting your conversation, “KEEP THE LINE MOVING PEOPLE! KEEP THE LINE MOVING”.

After buying yourselves sandwiches and coffees for lunch you decided that it was way too busy at Coffee Bean to stay. Walking out the door you asked if he wanted to take a walk in Central Park instead since the sun had decided to peek out from behind the gray cover of clouds.

Jumping on the 3 train you found an empty spot leaning against the glass divider in the aisles. You ate your sandwiches and drank your coffee on the train as you watched station after station pass you by while Peter told you about his class and his annoying lab partner who never did any work.

“Did you see that?” you chuckled as you followed Peter up the subway stairs and onto 110th Street.

“See what?”

“The rat! I think it’s the most New York thing I’ve ever seen– he was dragging a whole slice of pizza after him” you laughed.

“Where?” he chuckled.

You grabbed his mitten clad hand, turning his body, while you pointed to the biggest rat you’d ever seen.

“Oh my god” he chuckled, “Where’s he going with that thing?”.

“He’s going to the park I think?” you said as you watched as the rat quickly ran alongside the fence, heading towards the entrance.

“Let’s follow him” Peter proposed, and you giggled, “Sure”.

Clenching your hand tighter he dragged you with him into the park in the same direction the rat had taken, “Let’s see where he’s going”.

“Do you think he’s bringing food back to his family?” you asked as you tried to keep up with Peter.

“Maybe?” he answered, “Or maybe he’s going back to his lair? Maybe he’s got a fully furnished house in a hole or something”, he chuckled.

“With a tiny rat recliner and a tiny rat TV where he watches reruns of The Ratchelor every night” you quipped.

“Yeah! Exactly! And he’s having friends over for dinner tonight and obviously he’ll be serving them pizza!”

“Of course! Of course!” you laughed.

You followed your new rat friend through the park, with your mitted clad hand still in Peter’s. Under your shoes the snow squeaked with every step you took. It had turned out to be a beautiful winter day. You hadn’t thought it would be when you’d walked to your class this morning. The gray cover had weighed you down and the wind had blown right through you. But now the sky had cleared. Even though the sun hung low in the January sky, the sunlight made the snow glitter like it was made of a million small diamonds.

“He’s kind of cute don’t you think? What should we call him?” Peter asked you as you approached a small bridge. Your animal friend starting to slow down a little.

“Remy?” you posed.

“Like in Ratatouille?” he chuckled.

“Yes!” you smiled. “He deserves a name from the movie of all time!”

“Okay,” He chuckled, “I’m not arguing with a beautiful lady– Remy it is then!”.

When he returned your smile, you felt the fluttering of wings in your stomach. He held your gaze for a moment longer before he looked away. You swore you could see a hint of pink spreading on the apples of his cheeks.

“Wait! Where’d he go?”.

Peter stopped by the bridge, looking around for Remy. You looked around too, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. You leaned over the railing, looking down at the water passing below.

“Maybe he lives in the sewers or something? Or maybe he’s crawled down under there?” you pointed to the rocks under the bridge. Beside you Peter leaned over the railing too, “Yeah, maybe…” he trailed off.

You watched the water below for a little bit, how the current coiled in on itself in swirling spirals around the rocks. Out on the pond a couple of swans swam quietly. By the shore you could see an old lady and a child throwing old bread to a flock of ducks and pigeons that kept increasing in numbers.

“Should we keep going?” Peter asked after a while, and you nodded.

You walked through the park at a leisurely pace as you got to know Peter a little better, trying to find out what it was about him that Harry loved so much. And you were starting to get it. He started out a little closed off and shy, but as your day together went on, he started to open up more and more, asking you questions, leading your conversations more and telling jokes.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked. Your hand bumped against his for a second as you walked side by side. You swore your heart skipped a beat. He turned to look at you as he nodded, “Of course!”

“Be honest with me– are you in a fight club?” you deadpanned, making him laugh.

Then he turned to you, “Yes! Yes, I am” he said, faking seriousness. “But you know the first rule of fight club: you don’t talk about fight club” he said before bringing his hand to his mouth, sealing it, and throwing away the imaginary key, making you chuckle.

“No, but seriously– what’s going on? What’s with all the bruises? You’re not a victim of domestic abuse, right? Harry’s not beating you up every night?”

“Nah,” he chuckled, “I’m just a very clumsy person” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him a little, but slowly nodded your head. That didn’t seem very plausible to you. You’d only been alone with him for a few hours, but from your perspective, between the two of you, he’d been the steadiest on his feet. He’d even caught you before you fell on your ass after crashing into him this morning.

After about an hour of walking you reached the end of the park. You’d walked straight through the park, ending up at 59th Street. Even though you’d lived in New York your whole life, you think you’d only been to Central Park maybe twice. That’s what happens when you live somewhere your whole life, you never end up doing the tourist-y stuff.

The first time had been a school trip to the American Museum of Natural History. You must’ve been in fifth grade because that dickhead Roman Seaton wouldn’t leave you alone for the whole visit. Both his parents came from old money and therefore Roman, naturally, were used to getting what he wanted. Your friend Shameika had told you, that Amy had told her, that he had a crush on you, and now every time that enormous Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton came to mind, you could smell Roman’s sour breath as he’d tried to kiss you.

Your second memory was much happier – at least for you – not so much for Harry. And it was the image of him wrapped in a towel that was a size too small, body shivering and teeth clattering, with a ticket in his hand. Most often, this was the memory that came to mind when you thought about the famous park

But as you looked over at Peter, his curls sticking out from under his new knitted beanie, cheeks rosy from the cold as the light from the setting sun lit the back of his head like a halo, you thought that this image of him, as you saw him right now, was your happiest memory from Central Park.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked shyly after you two had stopped by the entrance of the park.

“It’s kind of a long walk” you grimaced.

“Doesn’t matter– I’m getting my steps in today” he quipped, “Look” he held up his wrist, pushing the fabric of his jacket, exposing his bare skin. “Already got about… 10k in today– what’s a few more” he shrugged pretending to read off his nonexistent watch.

You couldn’t hold back the giggle in your throat. What a fucking dork. It was endearing. Shaking your head you said, “Follow me Mr. 10k”.

“You mean Mr. About To Be 20k” he quipped trailing after you.

A few blocks away from your apartment you asked Peter how he’d celebrated the holidays.

“Oh… it was just me and Harry at the penthouse. Harry was alone because Norman was away on a last-minute business trip” he quickly answered you.

“What about your family?” you asked.

“Oh… ehm” his mitten clad hand came to rub the back of his neck; he didn’t look at you.

“I don’t have any” he said quickly, like he didn’t want to say the words out loud.

“Peter” you reached out your hand, grabbing a hold of his. The feel of your hand in his, stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry” you said softly.

His wide eyes bounced around your face, and you swore you could see his eyes well up before he blinked hard and looked away. He cleared his throat and started walking again, your hand slipping from his.

“It’s okay– it’s… it’s just how it is” an unhumorous laugh escaped his mouth.

“No, I understand!” you slowly nodded, “I lost both my parents in The Battle of New York… I understand how you feel more than you know”. You never talked about your parents with anyone. It was too painful. After you’d lost them, you’d been taken in by your aunt and uncle. They’d raised you as their own. They were the only family you had left.

Your confession made him finally look at you, a sad smile ghosting over his face. This time he reached out his hand, bumping it against yours before he grabbed it.

“I’m sorry” he said softly.

“It’s okay– it’s just how it is” you parroted his earlier words, making a genuine smile appears on his face.

“I was really young when my parents died,” he started after a beat of silence, “I was raised by my aunt May… it was just me and her” he said with a sad smile, “but she…” he trailed off.

“But she?” you squeezed his hand. You stopped outside your apartment, guiding him towards the door where you both could be shielded from the cold wind.

“She died in an accident a few years ago… I was there and– and I tried to save her, but I failed”

“Peter” you sighed, pulling him towards you as you wrapped your arms around him in a hug. Maybe you were crossing a boundary hugging him. You’d only just started to get to know him, but when you felt his cold cheek against yours and his hands tightening around your waist, you knew it was okay.

“She was the only family I had… now I only have Harry” his voice was strained. You pulled away a little before you cupped his face with your mitten clad hands. You looked him in the eye.

“That’s not true Peter! You have me now too– and Elijah! We’re your family now! And you’re my family!” you told him; your yarn covered thumb rubbing his cheek.

A shy smile ghosted over his face, one who made even more butterflies flutter in your tummy, before he leaned forward. For a second you panicked, thinking he leaned in to kiss you, but instead he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands curled around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

“Thank you” he mumbled into your skin, “Thank you!”.

You stood at your stoop for a while just holding each other. It was nice. It felt good. It was comforting. You didn’t even know Peter that well but… there was something different about the way he held you. How his hand rested on your lower back, the feel of his lips brushing over your skin as he buried his face in your neck, that made your heart flutter with every breath ghosting over your skin.

Then a loud ringing sound of a siren, as an ambulance sped past, made you both jump. Quickly he withdrew from you, his eyes trailing the ambulance hurrying down the street.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked him, trying to get his attention from where his gaze looked past you, still lingering after the ambulance. “I have a guitar– I was thinking we could practice for our gig or just jam for a lil’ while?”.

Finally, he looked at you, “Oh… ehm”, his hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Maybe another time?” his mouth quirked up into his emoticon smile, “I have… I have some… I have a lot of homework I need to get done tonight. But I’ll see you in a few days at practice?”.

Your shoulders fell at his words. “Oh! Sure, no problem! Yes, I’ll see you then!” you nodded as you tried your best to smile.

Sure, it’s no problem.

You’d already hung out all day, of course he had other things to do. But why, as you watched the back of his silhouette disappear down the street after he’d waved you goodbye, did you feel so disappointed?

previous: prologue | next: two

tags: @hollandweather​, @peterdarlingg​, @starsval​, @luciwritesstuff​, @mayal0pez​, @lnmp89​, @melodicheauxx-lacritiquexx​, @justapurrcat​, @sparklingsin​

...

#peter parker #spider-man #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland #tom holland x reader #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter parker x reader #spider man fanfiction #spider man x reader #spider man smut #spider man fic #peter parker fic #spider man angst #spider man fluff

[nachtwaechterin]

WIP poll tag game

I got tagged by @seadeepy, thanks for the tag!

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll with the names of your WIPs and then for whichever wins, write one sentence for every vote it gets.

I'm tagging @chaosisorderao3, @the-writing-merlin, and whoever wants

#if more of my mutuals wanna be tagged for tag games pls lmk #im too insecure to tag without asking lmao #tag game #parkner #harley keener #peter parker #spider man #spiderlad #parley #mcu #bbcm #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin fic #spider man fic

[int-writersmind]

I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker {Part 2}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step two of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday. 

{Read Part 1}

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: Not well edited will fix soon; Another Christmas song suggestion, a personal fave

That stupid little elf that greeted you as you left your apartment every morning was a reminder that Peter’s little list was far from being over. That stupid little elf, with it’s stupid little plastic face, creepy smile and knowing eyes.

“It’s an elf on the shelf, kids love them!” Peter said when he placed it on the way out of your apartment after the two of you spent way too many hours decorating your place. You hated to admit it, but you actually had fun. But the elf on the shelf was not the cherry on top that Peter was so keen on it being.

“You’re telling me that children actually enjoy the idea of some vile creature constantly watching them?” you responded.

Anyway, you were dreading whatever was next, it was the second week of December and there wasn’t any movement from Peter’s end. Granted he was pretty busy with his second life, dealing with a group of baddies that decided that this time of year was the perfect time for a group project of evil–Peter’s words, not yours. 

You were admittedly gutted, Christmas was far from being your favorite holiday, but at least it gave Peter an excuse to annoy you more than often, and more Peter was always better. But you knew and understood everything that came with Peter’s other job.

It was late now, soft snow was falling from the night sky. Anywhere else that would be magically and beautiful, the very definition of a White Christmas. But all you could imagine was the aftermath that came when it snowed in the city. Train delays, black ice, yellow snow, and that god awful gray snow that somehow, not matter how careful you were, your foot always found itself in. It wasn’t Christmas fault of course, annoying snow could come at any time over the winter (and sometimes Spring) season, but the damn thing was always linked to the holiday.

You were loss in your work, trying to catch up on some documents before the holidays caused everyone to not check their emails until the new year. You were snuggled up in some pajamas pants that once had a matching top and a raglan t-shirt from the men’s section. As you are sip from your hot chocolate, you don’t even notice the subtle tapping coming from your window. Alone on your couch, you just chuck up the sound to some apartment ambience. It isn’t until the tapping become more preseinset that you notice it.

“Oh gosh, sorry,” You say to Peter as you open the window, reaching for a hoodie as the brisk winter air rushes in. Peter just sits on your windowsill, pulling his Spider-Man mask off. Your little apartment was tucked in a strange corner of the city, one where most of your windows were facing a wall, some Peter never really feared that someone was watching the two of you.

“Good thing I wasn’t bleeding out.” Peter just swings his legs in, not fully coming into the apartment.

“Not this time at least” You respond, “So what’s up? Can you stay?” You gesture to the Spider-Man costume. 

“Oh yeah, the city’s quiet tonight,” He glimpses at the city behind him before returning this attention back to you. “I was actually here because of…the list”

You roll your eyes. “Really, and what could possibly be on the list that involves Spider-Man?”

“The Tree.”

You try to stifle a groan, he was talking about the Rockefeller Christmas Tree, the one Christmas tree that all sane native born New Yorkers knew to avoid like the plague around this time. Yes, yes, it was very pretty with its gigantic size, thousands of lights, and of course that enormous Swarovski star on the top. The tree was nice to view on TV during the tree lighting ceremony and through other people’s social media, but actually being there, in the thick of it, was terrible. The crowds, the cold, the totally unoriginal photo ideas. “Peter–”

“Now listen here Debbie Downer,” You make a face at Peter, who puts his hands up in surrender. “If we go now I bet you it will be a fun time.”

The two of you just stare at one another, “Fine, I’ll get my coat.”

About fifteen minutes later, Peter has the two of you swinging through the snow and cold, both whipping past your face and ears, causing a slight stinging sensation. The damn coat, hat and scarf did nothing to cut down on the weather’s feeling. 

Since the two of you started dating and some time after Peter told you the truth of him being Spider-Man, you had your fair share of swinging through the city moments. It didn’t mean that you were used to the feeling of constantly falling through the sky to only be pulled forward. Oh c’mon this is slow Peter once said.

Thankfully the journey wasn’t as long as Peter quickly lands the two of you on a rooftop across the street from the Tree. “See, not too bad?” Peter says.

“Sure, sure, sure, sure.” You answer back, sitting at the edge of the building, feet dangling over the side, it takes Peter a few moments before he sits next to you.

Now without a mask and spotting a brown bag, Peter sits next to you, nudging his shoulder into yours, you can’t help but smile as you pull out a Christmas tree shaped donut out the bag.

As you bite into the somehow still warm pastry, glancing at the tree and all it sparking glory before looking at Peter. “Two Christmas trees on the list Parker?”

“Well, this wasn’t originally the plan ok,” Peter scoffs as he bites into a Santa shaped donut. “It was going to be a whole day, with ice skating, tree viewing–”

“I’m just joking,”You lightly punch him on the arm, taking another bite from the donut. “I actually quite like this, just the two of us, here, looking at the tree. You get to like, actually enjoy looking at it without getting in any one’s way. “

“That’s true, just the two of us up here…how many people can say they saw the tree like this?”

“Well, probably everyone that lives in this building?” You both laugh as the two of you finish the donuts. You lean over and kiss Peter, savoring the sweetness from his lips. You can’t help but lick your lips staring at him as you do so. “Just so you know, I really appreciate this.”

“I know,” Peter’s eyes glance downwards towards your lips. “Does this mean you're starting to love Christmas now?”

“Hell no, but I can think of a few ideas that might change my mind.” You lean in, hands resting on his chest, pecking at his lips again.

“Not yet,” He moves just slightly away from you, “But I promise the next one will be worth it.”

Before the two of you kiss again, the lights on the tree go off, you stare a little loss at one another. “Peter?”

“No Spidey-Sense, nothing’s wrong.”

You pull out your phone and check the time—midnight “Guess it's much later than I thought it was.”

“God, same, I’m so tired.” Peter lets his head fall on your chest, you hold him in your arms.

“Come back to my place Spider-boy,” You gently run your fingers through his hair. “You’re freezing and I have a hot chocolate with your name on it. “

“Sounds good to me,” Peter looks up. “But only if we can watch a Christmas movie.”

“Of course.” You say with just a hint sarcasm

~

Sorry for the late upload and the short length just not in the right head space right now, but I'll live. try to get something up on Wed but no promises in case I forget. But stay with me pls!

Anyway, to lighten things up, what Christmas movie do you think Peter would pick?

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man