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bxcketbarnes · 2 years

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The Window

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2500+

Even though I’m sick I managed to finish this fic! I sacrificed some sleep for it, but I believe it was worth it. I really hope you guys like it! I’m slowly getting back to my normal writing self. Enjoy! xox

"Y/N, I truly believe that Peter likes you," Gwen tells you through the phone.

A sigh leaves your lips as you wrap a towel around your body, tucking it so it stays in place.

You grab an extra towel for your hair before walking into your bedroom, taking your phone with you. "Gwen, you know I hate talking about this," you mention.

"I know, but it's the truth. I've seen the way he looks at you."

You sit on the edge of your bed, holding the phone close to your face as her words replay in your head. "He looks at me like any friend would," you shake your head and glance towards the window.

A gasp leaves your lips when you notice Peter crouching outside your closed window. You spring up from your spot, telling Gwen you must go before hanging up.

Your cheeks flush at the fact that you're standing in nothing but a towel. You thrust the window open before Peter tumbles into your room.

"Pete, what are you doing here?" You ask him while taking a step back.

His hands find themselves on your arms for a few moments before a hiss leaves his lips. Your eyes drop down to the bloody wound on his ribs.

"I got into a bit of trouble," he whispers while slowly dropping to the floor. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Jesus," you mumble and kneel beside him, inspecting the wound without touching it. "Let me get the first aid kit."

You spring up from the floor, grabbing your clothes from the bed before moving into your bathroom. You quickly change into your pajamas and grab the first aid kit from under the sink.

You tuck some hair behind your ear and walk back into your bedroom. In your absence, Peter tugged off the top half of his spidey suit.

Oh my… Your cheeks blush as your eyes glance over his defined torso. You press your lips together and kneel right beside him. "It doesn't look too bad," you mumble while opening up an alcohol pad.

You wipe it against the wound, a hiss leaving Peter's lips. Your free hand gently presses against his abs, keeping him in place as you wipe up all the blood.

Silence fills the room as you clean him up, your gaze fixed on the cut. Peter pushes some of your hair back as you place a large bandage on his ribs. "You okay?" He whispers to you, causing your eyes to flick up at him.

"I should be asking you that," you chuckle softly before sitting on your heels. You glide your fingers over the clean bandage, making sure it stays in place.

"I'll be fine, you know that," he reminds you while giving you a look. You smile softly and nod your head, knowing that he heals faster than a human. "You seem down."

You shrug your shoulders and push yourself up from the floor, grabbing the trash beside you. "I'm okay. I’m just going through some stuff. Nothing I haven't handled before," you reassure him, gliding your free hand through his hair.

Peter watches you walk into your bathroom, tossing the trash into the waste bin. He places a hand over the wound before picking himself up. "You know I'm here for you, right?" Peter asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"Of course, Pete," you laugh, heading back into your bedroom.

The two of you sit down on your bed and you reach for your phone. You notice a text from Gwen, asking if everything was okay. You make a mental note to text her later before placing the device on your nightstand.

"I interrupted something, didn't I?" He questions with a chuckle, overseeing the text.

"It was nothing," you tell him, leaning your hands against the mattress. "You know how Gwen is. Always meddling with my love life."

Peter looks down at his hands, his fingers fumbling with each other. Your love life? He asks himself, wetting his lips. "What's going on in your love life? And why haven't you told me?" He glances towards you.

The smile drops from your lips, seeing the serious look on his face. "P-Peter, i-it's nothing like that," you stutter while sitting up straight.

"Then why is she so adamant?"

"I-I don't know. It's Gwen," you play off, chewing on your bottom lip.

Peter hums before reaching for your hand, taking it into his. Your heart pounds against your chest as his fingers lace with yours. "You would tell me if you like someone, right?" He asks in a quiet voice.

"Y-Yeah," you lie, feeling his hand squeeze yours.

"You realize I can tell when you lie to me," he chuckles before releasing your hand.

A sigh leaves your lips and you adjust your seating position, turning your body slightly to face him. "Sorry, it's just… it's complicated," you murmur, keeping your eyes on your lap.

"Do I know him?" Peter asks you, hearing the sadness in his voice.

You lift your gaze, a little confused as to why he sounds sad. "Uh, maybe? We all go to the same school," you shrug, concentrating on not revealing your lie.

He hums in response before standing up from his spot. You watch him walk out of your room and you let out a deep breath. That was close…

"Pete?" You call out to him after a minute of him being gone.

You push yourself off of your bed and stand in your doorway, looking into your semi-small apartment. He stands at the sink in your kitchen, downing a glass of water.

"Are you planning on staying here tonight?" You ask him while crossing your arms over your chest.

"I think I might head home. I don't want to worry Aunt May," he mentions, setting the empty glass into the sink.

He walks past you, his shoulders bumping yours during his passing. You swallow the lump in your throat as your gaze follows him. Peter rushes to put the top half of his suit back on before he grabs his mask.

"Are you mad at me?" You ask him just as he opens your window. "Are you mad that I won't tell you who I'm in love with?"

The brunette glances back at you, noticing the glossiness in your eyes. "You're in love?" He asks you, a crack in his voice.

He doesn’t give you enough time to answer him as Peter pulls the mask over his head before jumping out your window. The dam of emotions starts to break as you slowly walk over to the window, looking out of it.

You can see his silhouette swinging in the distance when the tears start streaming down your cheeks. "I'm in love with you," you sigh.

It's been a few days since your altercation with Peter and you feel he's ignoring you. No matter how many times you try texting or calling, you get nothing.

Gwen hands you a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen. You release a groan, pushing the items away before trying to get up from your couch.

"W-Why did we come home? I was having a good time," you whine, your words beginning to slur.

"Because you're drunk enough," Gwen sighs, setting the water and pills onto the coffee table. "Don't make me call Peter."

A scoff leaves your lips as you walk into your kitchen. I've got a liquor bottle around here somewhere. You think to yourself, stumbling left and right. "Good luck. He hasn't talked to me in four days," you tell her angrily, fetching the bottle of Malibu from your cupboard.

Before you're able to take a drink, Gwen snatches it from your hands. You protest, reaching for it when she holds it above her head. "Why hasn't he talked to you?" She asks you with furrowed brows.

"B-Because I wouldn't tell him that I'm in love with him," you say to her, continuously reaching for the bottle.

Gwen slaps your hands away and rushes to throw the bottle away. "Why didn't you tell him? Clearly, he feels something for you if he thinks you're in love with someone else," your friend sighs, looking toward you.

You pout, feeling the sadness starting to seep through. You scrunch your nose, ignoring her question before walking into your bedroom.

She watches you slam your door before she releases a sigh. Gwen pulls her phone out and dials Peter's number, pressing the device against her ear.

It rings four times before he picks up. "Hello?" His voice comes through the receiver.

"Hey, Peter. Are you busy?" She asks him, tucking her free hand into her pocket.

"Uh, not at the moment, but I'm almost done. Why?" He questions her, hearing the wind blowing on his side.

Gwen sighs and walks over to your bedroom door, listening carefully. "Y/N's drunk and I need to get home to my dad. I was wondering if you could stop by when you're done and check in on her. She's a bit of a mess," she informs him.

"She's drunk? She rarely ever gets drunk," he mumbles quietly.

"Yeah, well, apparently she's pretty upset that you haven't been talking to her," she explains before opening your door just a smidge. The sound of your shower running hits your ears before she closes the door again. "So, fix it."

Gwen hangs up, not giving him a chance to explain or defend himself. She calls out to you, letting you know that she's leaving before you hear your front door open and then close.

You sit on the floor in your shower, your fingers tapping against your arms as you stare off in the distance. The warm water trails down your skin as you take a deep breath.

You push yourself up from the floor, being careful that you don't slip, and turn the water off. You grab your robe from the hook, quickly putting it on before walking out of your bathroom.

After tying the robe, you walk out into the living room and grab the glass of water. You decide to take the pills so you don't have a pounding headache in the morning. You bring the water into your bedroom, setting it on your nightstand.

A couple of knocks echo off your window, causing you to lift your head. "Peter?" You call out to him while climbing out of bed.

You open your window and he climbs into your room. You check him for wounds, knowing it's the main reason for him coming to your place after patrol.

"I'm okay," he reassures you. "Gwen called me."

"She did?" You ask him as he rests his hands on your arms.

He gently moves your body so you're sitting down on your bed. "She did, yeah. She had to go home and asked me to check on you," Peter says while sitting beside you.

"I'm surprised you agreed to it," you whisper, keeping your gaze on your hands.

Peter's chest clenches and he releases a sigh. "I'm sorry I haven't texted or called. It wasn't nice of me to ignore you," he explains while reaching for your hand.

You let him grab a hold of your hand as you glance towards him. "Why did you?" You ask him, feeling his fingers glide along the back of your hand.

"I was upset," he shrugs his shoulders. Peter stays quiet for a few moments before looking back at you. "Finding out that the girl you're in love with is in love with someone is hard to hear."

Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession. "You're in love with me?" You ask him, your heart starting to pound against your chest.

"Yeah, I have been for years," Peter sighs, squeezing your hand gently.

You bring your free hand to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. "I've been in love with you since I was fifteen," you whisper, his honey-brown eyes looking into yours.

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, causing both of you to lean back a bit. Your fingers comb through his hair as you kiss him back. Peter's hands move to your waist before they slide across your lower back.

"God, we should've done this sooner," he mumbles against your lips, placing tiny kisses on them.

"If only we could read the signs," you giggle.

You and Peter lay back on the bed, both of your arms wrapped around one another. He nuzzles his face into your neck as his hands slip under the robe you're wearing.

"I love you," Peter mutters against your skin.

You kick the door to your apartment open and grab the grocery bags. You huff while carrying the semi-heavy bags into your place, setting them onto the table. "Jesus, I had to buy a lot of stuff, huh," you mumble to yourself.

"Why didn't you call me for help?" Peter's voice calls out to you.

A scream leaves your lips, whipping your head around to see the brunette standing in your doorway. "Peter!" You scold with wide eyes, looking around your apartment. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

"The window," he jabs his thumb in the direction of your window.

"My window," you repeat to yourself with a laugh. You shake your head as Peter walks toward you.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body. The two of you sway back and forth as he hugs you from behind. "I missed you," Peter mumbles and pulls away.

"You saw me two days ago," you chuckle and walk towards your table to unpack your groceries. "Oh, and, do you ever plan to use the front door?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Peter laughs at your question.

He watches you walk past him, bottles of different condiments in your hands. "I'm not always going to be by my window, bugboy," you mention to him with a teasing grin.

"The window is just so convenient," he smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully while shoving the condiments you bought into your cupboard. "I don't know how that statement is true, but okay," you laugh, putting away the rest of your groceries.

Peter leans against the table and holds his hands out to you. "I just like coming through your window. Do you want me to use the front door?" He asks you with an eyebrow raised.

You step into his embrace, resting your hands on his shoulders. "No, you don't have to. It's just less energy you have to endure. I don't have a fire escape you can land on," you shrug your shoulders while grazing your fingertips along the back of his neck.

"Oh please, honey," Peter clicks his tongue in response. "I'm Spider-Man. I've got a lot of endurance."

Your cheeks blush at the slight innuendo. Peter's hand slides down the middle of your back and rests on your right ass cheek. "Do you, now?" You ask and bite your lip.

"Mhm, maybe you can find out," he whispers, his eyes glancing down at your lips.

"Yeah, maybe you should show me."

Taglist: @reidslovely @jeanettexkillian @undf-stuff @softyutae @theonlymaddie @queenofshinigamis @stewielover95 @foreverrogers @writing-for-marvel @softtdaisy @xoxoloverb @onlyfreds @avenjames-anderson @librariesofdreams @0-0-sunflower-0-0 @sincericida @leleea @jessalyn-jpeg @paw-sneeze @reddesert-healourblues @thewxntersoldier

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mayfieldss · 1 year

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First date - Peter Parker

AN: A quick Peter Drabble to feed to the birds.

Summary; Peter asks you on a date, though it doesn't all go to plan.

"Will you go out with me?" that was all Peter had to ask. Six words of which the answer would ultimately determine if he would change his name and leave the country or not. If you said yes, Peter could finally be at ease, a no, well that would be earth shattering.

You were important to Peter, one of the only people he had grown to trust and care for in the hellhole he had to call a school, but now he was taking one of the biggest risks of his life.

Truth be told, it had become almost unbearable watching you across the halls, talking to you at lunch and passing notes in classes knowing that he couldn't hold your hand as more than a friend. Knowing he couldn't wrap his arms around you while you stood at your locker, kissing your shoulder with the smile that he only gave to you.

Peter thought about these things far too much for him to consider you just a friend, and even though he was at risk of ruining the great dynamic he had with you if you happened to say no, he couldn't wait any longer.

He stood now, waiting for you outside of the chemistry lab. Peter had long ago memorized your class schedule, all so he could walk with you between classes. He'd done it be a gentleman, but with the hidden intent of spending just a few more minutes in your presence.

Upon occasion you would get out of class early and meet him outside his class instead, jumping out from behind the doors to scare him. He pretended to jump, to be shocked every time you did so, but every time he knew you were there long before he had even packed his books away.

It's nerve-wracking, waiting for you now, and Peter can feel his heart, like boxer, ready to punch its way out of his chest. He knew what he was going to say to you, how he would say it. He'd spent the whole night before planning, reciting the words in his mirror, but as the seconds passed, he felt the syllables fading.

When you stepped out of class, milling behind everyone else, the words left Peter entirely. He stood unable to do anything but smile as he waited for you, sweating through his clothes.

"What's with the face Peter?" It's the first thing you say to him, and only then does Peter realise he's staring, and that he can't bring himself to stop. If he could just stop being creepy for one moment, perhaps just a piece of this could go well.

"I uh, actually have something to ask you," Peter brings a hand up to the back of his neck, eyes moving from you at last to glance at his shoes. "If that's okay with you of course." The words tumble from him, far more awkward than he had intended, and he looks up with a smile so silly with nerves that you laugh.

"Sure Peter, ask away."

It takes him a second to gather his confidence and he has to think back to the reason he's doing this in the first place. If he doesn't ask you out now, someone else might and then he would have missed his chance.

"So, I was thinking, no pressure or anything but if you wanted-" He stops himself. This is ridiculous, the way his words pour out like water from a broken fish tank. He takes a breath and starts again. "Would you be interested in going out with me? On a date, just me and you, tonight?"

It's still terribly embarrassing, and he's stumbling over his words like they are feet stuck out by bullies to trip him in the halls, but it's better than what he started with. "You can say no, I just thought—"

"What time?" You cut Peter off with the question and only now does he notice the smile on your lips, wide as ever.

"What-, what time? Um, eight O'clock?" He doesn't know what he's saying, offering you the first number that came to his mind as an answer. You don't acknowledge how nervous he is, and he loves you for that.

"Okay, where are we going?" You hold your books to your chest and Peter watches as your backpack slides further off your shoulder with every second that passes. You start to walk, and Peter realizes then that you still have to get to class. "I was thinking that new pizza place downtown, but if you want something else—"

"That sounds great Peter."

It occurs to him then just what you are saying. It hits him like a tidal wave, and Peter is met with something like hope in the rush of it all.

"Wait, does this mean it's a yes? You're interested?"

He listens to you let out a quiet laugh before you look at him and he can see the blush forming on your cheeks. "Yes, Peter. I am very interested in going on a date with you."

Peter raises an eyebrow, slowly his confidence seeps back into his bones. He's smiling now, wide. "Very interested?"

He watches as you go red, tilting your head to watch your feet as you walk. "Very."

You repeat it like a bird that's just learnt to talk and the bell that signals the start of next period rings just as you reach the door to your class.

"You better run, Peter. You're gonna be late."

Peter doesn't care at all, and he can't help but grin at you as you walk through the door, leaving him to stew with his thoughts in the hall. He's awkward, and he's nervous, but most of all, Peter is happy because you said yes.

GENERAL TAGLIST; @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads @hiya-its-amber

TASM PETER PARKER TAGLIST; @arignipanja574 @winter-soldier-vibes

MARVEL GENERAL TAGLIST: @mellowladyangel @5kyyy @avyannadawn

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imagininglotsofthings · 1 year

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Toothache - Tasm Peter Parker x reader

Title: Toothache

Pairing: Tasm Peter Parker x Reader | Also Peter 1, and Tony Stark

Word Count: 3,605

Summary: Reader comes home from the dentist kind of loopy, and some truths sort of come out.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst for about a paragraph

Notes: At first the I use Peter 1 and Peter 3, then a little later when you see "Pete" it is MCU Peter Parker, and "Peter" is Tasm Peter Parker. I think there are a few typos. And that I switch tense at some point. Or Point of View. I'm sorry. :(

“Peter!!” she exclaimed, skipping into the compound kitchen. Peter turns around from getting a cup of coffee.

“Y/N, hey. You’re cheery.” He looked her over. “Are you okay?”

“Oh.” Her face pulled down into a frown and Peter quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not the Peter I’m looking for.”

He chuckled.

“Where’s your, you know, variant? Your taller, awkwader, handsomer variant?”

“Uhhh….” Peter hesitated. “Well, did you say awkwader, and handsomer? Also, thanks,” he said sarcastically, but Y/N didn’t seem to notice.

Tony walked in just then. “Y/N? Oh, thank God, Peter, she’s with you.”

“Uh, Mr.Stark, is she…drunk?” Peter asked, unsure what the hell is going on.

“No, kid. We just came from the dentist. She got a tooth out. You didn’t the gauze? Shouldn’t Spider-Man be more observant, Pete?”

Peter peered down at Y/N. He finally caught a glimpse. “Well, it’s near the back of her mouth,” he said defensively.

“Kid, watch her,” Tony said exasperatedly. The woman went to touch the coffee pot, which was still boiling hot. Peter reached out just in time and grabbed her hand.

“No, no no,” he said, and used his grip on her hand to pull her over to the kitchen table. “Let’s sit down, huh?” He urged her into a chair and took a seat next to her.

“Thanks, kid. This stuff makes her damn loopy, but I’ve gotta get back to the lab. Will you keep an eye on her for me?” He handed Peter a piece of paper. “This is stuff she can’t have to eat or drink for at least forty-eight hours. So don’t give it to her.”

“Yeah, sure, Mr.Stark.”

“Thanks for taking me to the dentist.” Peter noticed a slight slur in her voice for the first time.

“You’re welcome, kid.” Tony called her kid, too, even though she was nearly thirty years old.

“Bye Tonyyyy!!” Y/N said in a sing-song voice. “Love you!!”

Peter stifled a giggle, and glanced up to see what Mr. Stark would do. He’d stopped just short of the doorway, pinched the bridge of his nose, but Peter caught a smile on his face. “Love you, too!” he called back and Y/N beamed. Peter laughed. If Y/N had not been loopy she would not have just shouted that out, but it seemed to lower her inhibitions a bit, and apparently act as a sort of truth serum. Peter knew she looked at Mr. Stark as a sort of father figure also, so that’s what all that was about. He chuckled again.

“You need anything?” he asked her. “Water, f-?

“Oh, but you are cute!” she blurted out suddenly and Peter furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“The other Peter is handsome, but you’re cute. You’re a good-looking kid, but you know, young. To me.”

Peter put his hand over his mouth to try to hide his laughter. This was more amusing than it had any right to be, he though. And kind of wondered how MJ and Ned would react to all this.

“Where’s Peter 3?” Y/N asked, using the title Peter 1 had given him to make her point clear. He knew exactly who she was talking about before, though.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly, and Y/N’s face pulled into a frown.

“I love you too, you know?” she said suddenly, and Peter smiled again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re like my little brother and one of my best friends, too.”

“Really?” Peter felt his cheeks heat up just a little, and felt all warm inside. This was really sweet. He wondered if she would have said any of this otherwise?

“Really. And also, a little tiny bit like an older brother, too, which is weird since you’re twelve years younger, but you’re kind of protective of me.”

He laughed again. He was. “Yeah, I know.” There was even a part of him protective of the thought of her going out with anyone. Not because he was jealous, but because he thought she deserved the best, and he knew about her past, which was not pretty. He also knew that her and Peter 3 had a little bit of an unspoken thing going on.

“Should you be talking this much?”

“You saying I talk too much??”

“No, no! I just meant…with your tooth pulled…” he sighed. “Never mind.”

There was silence for a minute and Peter wondered if she was not talking because of his comment. He got up and filled a glass of water for her, then placed it on the table in front of her.

“Thanks, Pete.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, you love Peter 3?”

“What??”

“You said you loved me, too, so I assumed you meant him, you know, because you said ‘too.” He didn’t actually assume that, but he wanted to see what she’d say.

“No! I meant ‘too’ because…because I said it to Tony. Right, did I?”

“You did,” Peter assured her.

“Oh, good.”

Another pause.

She gave him a hug (more like nearly fell off her chair and he caught her.)

“I love you, too, you know?” he said.

“Yeah?” she smiled sweetly up at him.

“Of course.”

Another voice. “Did I walk in on something?” Peter 3.

“Peter!!” Y/N practically squealed and launched herself off the chair out of Peter 1’s arms over to Peter 3.

“Crap,” Pete mumbled, but Peter caught her. She basically launched into him. He grunted and caught her around her waist, holding her up.

“Uh, hi, bub,” he said to her, peering down at her. He was tall, Peter thought.

“Hi!!” She beamed at him and he smiled back. To Pete it looked like she was barely holding herself up, and Peter pulled her to stand more steadily on her feet, and his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

“What’s going on?”

Pete wasn’t sure if he meant with her or their interaction, so he said anyway, “No, you didn’t interrupt anything.” He made sure he made it clear. He could tell Peter really cared about Y/N, in a much different way then Pete did.

Peter turned to Y/N.

“She got her tooth pulled,” Pete elaborated.

“Oh,” Peter cooed as he touched her cheek to push her face to the side so he could see. Gentle, always so supremely gentle with her.

“I missed you,” Y/N said to him suddenly.

Pete watched his variant’s cheeks turn a light pink at the comment. “Y-you did?” he stuttered, his hand still resting soft against her cheek, her head still turned to the side as she peered up at him. She nodded as his hand cupped her cheek.

“Course!” She smiles again. “Always miss you when you’re gone. Worry about you, too,” she mumbles the last bit so it is nearly unintelligible, but the two Spider-Mans hear it fine.

Peter smiles fondly at the slight slur of her words, and his thumb rubs a feather light arc over her cheek. Pete feels kind of like he’s intruding on a very private moment.

“Hey, kid, I’m back, I just-“

Tony stopped short, his eyes landing on Peter and Y/N. His lips dipped down into a small frown as he looked over the scene. Pete knew that Tony didn’t necessarily trust his variant Peter 3, and since he saw Y/N as another daughter, Pete knew he was not so happy with this little unspoken thing that was so obviously there.

“Toonyyy!! Hiiiii!!!” Y/N smiled and slurred his name as she turned toward him, swaying a little. Peter’s left hand fell from her cheek and joined his other arm to wrap around her waist, holding her steady. Tony’s jaw tensed as he tracked the movement.

“Hey, kiddo, you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Peter’s home!” She beamed at the last sentence.

Tony’s smile was tight. “I see that, kid. Hey, there.” He said the second part to Peter with thinly veiled tension.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said politely, but his smile was a little tight, too.

Y/N leaned her head slowly to rest against Peter’s chest softly and sighed. Peter’s gaze shifted to her and his smile softened as he did. His hand began to raise from her waist. He hesitated, but it was like he couldn’t help himself, he had to do it. His hand rested on the back of her head and she closed her eyes as she sighed again.

“Tired, bug?” Peter asked in a soft voice, his fingers gently carding through her hair.

Pete again got the feeling of intruding on a private moment. Tony’s jaw tensed even more. Y/N nodded at Peter’s question. After many seconds, Tony cleared his throat. Pete wasn’t sure if it sounded more angry or awkward. He was thinking it tipped a little more to angry.

Y/N giggled softly.

“What?” Peter asked.

“You’re comfy.”

“We’re standing up.”

“You’re still comfy.” She snuggled into his chest a bit more and Peter blushed. Pete was pretty sure he blushed, too, and turned his head a little. Tony cleared his throat louder this time.

“Hey, you two. Over here.”

Peter turned toward Tony before Y/N did, his hand falling from her hair. Then she lifted her head and turned toward the billionaire, but laid it back against Peter’s chest, and his hand returned to its spot on the back of her head, gently twining his fingers through her hair.

“Mhm?” Peter said as his fingers carded through Y/N’s hair absentmindedly. Pete was almost sure he heard a noise something like a purr coming from her, but it was so quiet he only picked it up because of his enhanced hearing, and he was glad Mr. Stark couldn’t hear it.

“Y/N? Kid?”

She lifted her head off Peter’s chest a little, but still stayed close to him. And Peter’s hand did not move.

“Since you’re clearly feeling so sleepy – the meds must be getting’ to ya – why don’t we get to your room and to bed, okay?”

She nodded, but did not move from Peter’s arms. Tony raised his eyebrows. “Um…”

Y/N still didn’t move.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I can take care of her. I’ll get her to bed, make sure she’s okay.”

Pete was certain Mr. Stark clenched his jaw this time. He knew because he clenched his teeth so hard Pete could hear it, and he was sure that Peter could, too.

Pete felt bad for his variant. Peter didn’t do anything to Tony. Tony just didn’t trust him because he was new here, and he didn’t usually trust new people easily. But he should really cut Peter 3 some more slack. Pete also knew that the budding whatever-it-was between Peter and Y/N certainly wasn’t helping matters. Tony hated to see the young woman he looked it as another daughter falling for someone he distrusted. Pete knew he just didn’t want her to get hurt, that it came from a place of love, but still, it must have been so hard on Peter. Especially because, if you asked Pete, it was so clear that Peter would never hurt Y/N. Never. He was pretty sure he’d do anything to protect her, and that he just wanted her safe, taken care of, and happy. He’d probably lay down his life for her in a heartbeat. But Tony hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

“Stark?” Peter’s voice pulled Tony out of whatever spiral of thoughts he was going down. Pete was nervous btu weirdly curious to know what Tonys response to this would be.

He seemed to be chewing on the inside of his lip for a minute before his mouth formed – seemingly reluctantly – into a tight-lipped smile. Pete waited anxiously to hear his reply.

“Kid?” he said, and hid gaze flicked to Y/N instead of Peter. She didn’t seem to be listening too closely, her eyes a half closed and a bit unfocused. “Kid?” Tony repeated. She opened her eyes to look at Tony, and blinked against the tiredness taking over her body. “You okay with that? With Peter helping you?”

Her lit up visibly and she nodded. “Yesh, yea- yesh, damn!” The word wouldn’t come out right and Peter grinned affectionally. “Yeah, I am.”

Pete half expected Tony to argue, but he didn’t. He just nodded curtly. “Alright.” He looked to Peter 3. “You better take good care of her.”

“Of course, I will, Stark.” He looked down at Y/N. “Alright bub, come on.”

She peered up at him, a confused look covering her face. “To your room. You need some rest.” The look of confusion was erased, and she nodded, rubbing her eyes.

“Okay, come on.” Peter moved the hand on her hair so his arm was anchored behind her shoulders, then crouched down to anchor another behind her knees. She stared up at him with her brow quirked.

“What are you do-“

Her question was answered as Peter lifted her off of her feet and into his arms. He did so slowly and carefully, it looked like he was trying not to jostle her in the slightest. She gasped softly and her arms wrapped round his neck.

“Oh,” she said softly. “You know, you don’t have to carry me, Peter.” Pete saw a blush bloom over Y/N’s cheeks as she said this. Peter grinned down at her.

“I know, bub, but I can, so I might as well, right? Hate to see you lose your balance and fall, wouldn’t we?” His grin was teasing and Y/N narrowed her eyes at him playfully, her nose scrunching up in the process. He laughed, and leaned his forehead against hers. She raised her eyebrows and the color in her cheeks deepened.

“I won’t talk you out of this, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Mm. Okay, Peter.” She seemed to almost sigh out the last words and laid her head upon his shoulder as he pulled away.

Pete smiled as he peered at them, trying not to seem too creepy about it (even though they were right in front of him). Until he turned his eyes on Mr. Stark. His smile faded off of his face, replaced with a frown on the edge of a pout. Mr. Stark was looking at the clearly lovestruck pair with disapproving eyes.

“See you later, Tony,” Y/N slurred as Peter carried her away. He trudged to the kitchen table where Pete sat as the two rounded the corner. Pete waited a few minutes until he heard a door shut until he tried to gather his words before addressing the billionaire.

“Mr. Stark…” his voice trailed off and Tony turned to look at him.

“What is it, kid?”

Pete tapped his fingers on the table before answering. “Why don’t you like Peter 3, Mr. Stark?”

Tony finally looked at his surrogate son. He sighed. “Kid, I just…it isn’t exactly that I don’t like him, I just…I don’t trust him. I don’t know him.”

Pete knew what Mr. Stark was getting at, but he still couldn’t entirety get behind his line of thinking. “He’s a good person. I mean, maybe he’s made some mistakes, but who hasn’t? He helped me a lot. He helped save the whole city in this world. Not to mention in the one he originally came from. He’s…he is a lot like me. I mean, he is a variant of me.” He smiled, then paused, a confused look drawing his eyebrows together. “Or…I’m a variant of him?” His mouth pulled down to a frown and rubbed at his forehead. “Ugh, I don’t know. Sometimes that multiverse stuff makes my brain hurt.”

Tony cracked a smile. “I just…I don’t want anyone to hurt her, Pete. You know about her last, her only, relationship, right?”

“Yeah, Mr. Stark, I do.”

Tony nodded, pursed his lips, then continued. “Then you get why I’m so protective of her? Especially of her in any sort of relationship? I know she’s a grown woman, kid, I know, but it’s been almost a decade since she was in any sort of relationship and the last guy treated her like trash, I just…I don’t want that to happen to her again.”

Pete was a little surprised that Mr. Stark was opening up this much, but he was glad. “Peter would never do that to her,” he said with confidence.

Tony gave him a lopsided, sort of sad grin. “Yeah? You sound super sure of yourself on that one, kid. I want to be that sure, too.”

“You should be.”

Tony leaned a little closer. “How come?” It wasn’t said with malice, it was said with genuine curiosity.

“You know…you know what happened, right, Mr. Stark? When Peter was eighteen; when he was my age?”

Tony’s face falls. “I overheard it, yeah. The basics of it.”

I don’t know that he needs to know the full story, or that I should really be telling him, so I don’t go into details.

“It was his girlfriend, right?” He says it so quiet.

“Yeah, it was.” That’s all I say. Silence for a few seconds, then I say, “That’s how I know.”

Tony’s eyes snap up to mine. “He lost…he’s lost people, but he lost someone before…and…well, he blames himself. I think he’s just started not to. So, he’s letting her in, and you can see how much he cares about Y/N, can’t you, Mr. Stark?”

He sighs, begrudgingly. “Yeah, yeah I can, kid,” he admits.

“Well, after that…after what happened, that’s how I know. He would never treat her like trash. He’ll protect her, he’ll support her, he’ll take care of her. I know it. You should give him more of a chance. Please?”

Another sigh, but this one is for dramatic effect, I know it is. “Yeah, kid. You’re right, I know you are.” He hesitates. “I hate it when that happens.” He grins teasingly at me. “But, I won’t take my eye off him entirely. You know I’d be keeping a little bit of an eye on whoever it was she seemed to have a thing with.”

I laugh. “Fair enough, Mr. Stark.”

***

“Here we are, bug.” Peter said as they walked into Y/N’s room.

“Mhm,” she replied sleepily, not even looking up. They made it a little farther in the room, and then she opened her eyes. “My room,” she mumbled, still with a slight slur.

“Yup, your room, bub.”

“Mmmm. Thank you.” She cuddled deeper into him, her head buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“Hey, keep your arms around me, okay? Hold on. Don’t let go.”

She blinked at him, and he repeated his words. “Y/N. Please.”

“Okay.” She nodded and tightened her grip.

“Good girl, there you go.”

He used his now free hand to pull back the covers on her bed, but quickly curled his arm back underneath her shoulders, in case in her mildly drug induced state she decided to let go for some reason. Gentle, so gentle, he laid her down on her bed.

He grinned. “You can let go now, bub,” he said softly.

“Oh! Sorry…” She released her arms from around his neck.

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face and she closed her eyes. “Feels nice,” she mumbled. Peter felt a light blush across his cheeks.

But he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and kept stroking her hair, lightly scratching her scalp sometimes. He swore she nearly purred at one point. He grinned, and his blush deepened. After a few minutes, it looked like she’d dozed off, so Peter removed his hand and was just getting up when he heard her stir. She grumbled and reached for his wrist.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Don’t go,” she said, and her voice sounded so small in that moment. “Please, Peter?”

Maneuvering so his wrist was out of her tiny grip, he interlaced their fingers together instead. “Okay,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. Of course, he promised. She had no idea; he would always be there for her. “I promise.”

She smiled groggily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He pulled his hand out of hers but when he started to walk away, she grabbed it again. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just going right over there.” He pointed to an arm chair in her room.

“Can you stay with me…here?” Now her cheeks tinged peach as she gestured to the bed.

“Oh,” Peter said. “I-uh- are you sure that’s okay?”

She nodded, tugging on his hand but of course not moving him even an inch. “Please.” The slight crack in her voice had him almost scrambling to climb in next to her.

“Okay,” he whispered as he nodded. “Can you scoot over, bug?” She nodded and wiggled herself backwards. Peter kept an eye out to make sure she didn’t wiggle backwards right off the bed. He crawled in next to her, and gently pulled her into his arms just in case in her drug induced state she did back all the way off the bed and fall to the floor. For a second, he’s worried he’s overstepped a little, but she just scoots closer to him and snuggles into his chest. He lets out a breath and pulls her a little closer to him, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the scent of her shampoo. She sighs happily, and he resumes running his fingers through her hair and his light scratching of her scalp.

When he looks down again, she is fast asleep. A soft smile spreads across Peter’s face. Whatever this unspoken thing is between them seems to have gone to another level. He hopes this will continue, but for now, he is happy to hold her as she sleeps.

#tasm peter x reader #mcu peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker #mcu peter parker x reader platonic #tony stark x reader #tony stark x reader platonic #irondad #irondad x reader #tasm peter parker x reader fluff #tasm peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker fanfic #mcu fanfiction

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liz-allyn · 2 years

Text

inner demons - pt 3 [tasm!peter x f!reader]

another side of the devil you know

Chapter Summary: Peter can't escape his secrets or the scars left in their wake.

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: SERIOUS GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNINGS APPLY. 18+ ONLY. Dark! Themes TW including: dubcon/noncon via miscommunication), references to past SA of a minor, smut, vomiting, alcohol, blood, biting, overseas terrorist attack (bombing), references to Iraq War, uniformed service members killed in action, funerals, death, heavy angst, grieving/loss, soft!dom!peter, humiliation, language, violence, therapy, depression, panic attacks, Skip Westcott.

This may not be the story for you, regardless of age. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six.

The sound of running water stirred Peter from his sleep. Lying face down in your shared bed, his hand reached groggily for you, a grumble in his chest. His bleary, chocolate eyes creaked open, letting early sunlight in. The view of his hand came into focus, adorned with a titanium, channel-style wedding band featuring a unique, etched design that resembled a thin pattern of crossing lines - a spiderweb, some would say. He gazed at his ring, and his outstretched palm over your place on the mattress beside him, and his brow furrowed to realize that you weren’t next to him.

With a deep groan, he excavated himself from the bedsheets, his back aching as he pushed himself to his feet.

When his eyes finally laid upon your form, it was behind a steamy shower curtain. He was taken aback by just your silhouette. Entranced by the ghost of you, he pictured the way the water fell across your bare skin, dripping over your curves. He must have let out a subconscious, satisfied hum, as your voice pulled him from his lustful daydreams.

“Is that my husband,” you asked aloud, the smirk audible in your voice, “or am I about to be ravished?”

Peter flashed a toothy grin, pushing himself off of the doorframe, and rid himself of his sleep clothes. “Can’t it be both?”

He yanked the shower curtain back and scurried inside, wrapping himself in the comfort of the hot water and of your embrace. You blissfully wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed a chaste kiss to your blushing cheek, then peppered them along your jaw and lips. You hummed with pleasure feeling the hard planes of his muscles against your naked front. He held you tighter with each kiss; the water from the shower leaking through his lips did little to quell his thirst. His deviant hands slipped up the arc of your waist, brushing over your supple breasts. He used one hand to pull your jaw into a deeper kiss, the other lingering at your chest.

“Easy there, Romeo,” you giggled like a teenager as he nipped at your lip. “You can’t make me late for work again.”

He groaned in protest as you took his hands and wrapped them firmly around the small of your back. His eyes rolled in anguish, mourning the missed opportunity, “Mmmphh—just call in today.”

You snorted at his adorable childish antics, “I’m already taking a half day.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him into an embrace as you sighed, I need to send that proposal before I leave or Lou will be up my ass again—”

“Lou can go to hell,” Peter muttered in your ear, knowing that ragging on your obnoxious boss would make you smile. “I’m the only one allowed near your ass.” He reached down and pinched your flesh just to make a point.

You overdramatically yelped with a puppy dog snarl, and he placed another kiss on your sultry lips.

“Trust me, once I hit ‘send’ I’m outta there,” you reassured him, running your hand through your wet hair. You pulled your head back into the shower stream, loosening your locks of any remaining product. “Then we’ve got the whole weekend together. To do whatever you want.” You twitched your nose and gave him a wink, a look that would be considered lewd if you didn’t look so cute doing it, he thought.

You sobered your silly expression a bit, adding with a warm gaze; your voice sincere, “After, of course. Whatever you feel up to.” A flash of sadness momentarily filled his molasses eyes. He blinked it away, pulling his gaze from you, before looking back up at you with a grateful, yet somber expression.

You turned away from him, rinsing your face. “Maybe we can try that new Empanada place—”

“What the hell is that?” he cut you off with a sharp tone, slicing through the moment and making you snap your head around to face him. He grabbed hold of your upper arm urgently and pulled you closer to him. His brow was furrowed, his expression heavy with grave concern.

“What?” you replied, the alarmed look on his face draining the color from yours.

“That!” he said, nearly spitting out the word. You followed his eyeline to the back of your shoulder. A gnarly, yellowish-green bruise peeked out at you from behind your shoulder blade.

“Oh,” you stated, simply, running your fingers over the bruise. His fingers were locked around your arm, preventing you from moving away. You looked up at his eyes, storm clouds forming in their blackness.

“Where did that come from?” His tone was sharp. Frustrated. Concerned.

You frowned, shaking your head. “I... I don’t remember?” You shifted your position to try to get a better look. He yanked you back.

“Who did that to you?” he snapped, his eyes flashing red. Outraged. Accusatory.

You could see pulsing in the artery in his neck. The air between you shifted, like a raw nerve exposed. You met his gaze, stunned at the sudden outburst of unfounded vitriol. It was clear that Peter wasn’t there—not with you, not really. He was somewhere far away in a hostile environment fighting for survival, his knuckles bloody and his chest heaving. It was a bizarre Mr. Hyde moment; every muscle in his body was pulled taut. His eyes were wild.

At first, the sound of his voice and the fire in his eyes made you flinch. You then narrowed your gaze defiantly in return. “Excuse me?”

He blinked several times as he stared at your firm expression. The alarm evaporated from his face. The amber hue returned to his eyes as he glanced back and forth between your incredulous look, to his hand, to the bruise, and to his feet.

“I-I...” he stuttered, like he was waking up from a bad dream. He pried his fingers off of your arm and replaced his hand on your shoulder, lying it gently across your skin. “It-it looks painful,” he swallowed hard. “I just... How-how did you get it?”

You watched him pensively. He was unable to make eye contact with you, as Mr. Hyde retreated and a nervous boy was left in his wake. He furrowed his brow, his face and ears reddening with shame. “I just—I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” he grimaced, eying the bruise empathetically.

His jaw locked up, head dropping, as his eyes fell back to the shower floor. His vulnerability softened your hard gaze. “Now you know how I feel,” you responded quietly.

He looked up at you, remorsefully. A glimmer of humor returned to that dark gaze, a half-smile curving his lips. “I’m the one who’s supposed to get banged up, not you,” he sheepishly mumbled.

You watched him for several more moments until you could tell he was starting to squirm. You examined the bruise again. “I’m pretty sure this came from my valiant battle with that scratch on the floor next to the dining table,” you mentioned, after some thought. “I stood up too fast and caught a corner.”

He bit his lip, nodding his head, looking away. He tried to conceal his embarrassment as best he could. “Did you win?” he asked, bashful. There was an apology inherent in his tone.

“Not quite,” you responded with a half-shrug. “They’ll forever sing my praise in songs of my sacrifice.” The charm returned to your voice, and with that, the matter was dropped.

Peter’s eyes wandered over the tile walls as he wrung his hands, fingers twitching. You slowly brought your hand to his lightly stubbled face, caressing him gently. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch. The warmth of your palm soaked through his skin, easing the tension in his body.

When his eyes reopened, you were looking at him with sunlight in your gaze. He felt the rays shine down into his soul, the desolate flowers there flourishing in the light. “Today’s not supposed to be an easy day,” you crooned, reassuringly. You ran your hands up his arms, pulling him closer to an embrace. “And that’s okay.”

He nodded with a soft half-smile, the sting of tears pricking his eyes. He squeezed them shut and rested his forehead on yours. He took a long moment to breathe you in, your aura and the humid air soothing his nerves.

Like a prayer—like a solemn vow that on days like that one, he would swear to renew with each sunrise—he whispered back, “I love you.”

THAT NIGHT

“Felt weird, y’know?”

Spider-Man found himself with a surprising lack of words despite his chatty reputation. But in the current space, he was allowed to deviate from his perceived persona. And he was even more surprised at how badly he needed a space like that.

He was sprawled out awkwardly across Dr. V’s faux leather loveseat, which was quickly showing its age with cracks. He respectfully kept his boots off of the walls and his legs crossed at the ankle. The bobbing of his foot never went away.

He was surrounded by serene portraits of eucalyptus, ferns, and one orchid which was more green than white, which all paired nicely with the minty walls. Dr. V sat across from him, listening quietly.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been there,” Peter said, staring up at the ceiling through his opaque lenses. Lost in thought, his voice dwindled, barely audible over the evening traffic echoing from the streets and the white noise machine blaring outside of her closed door. It didn’t matter that it was past 8:00 at night; the doctor was a stickler for protocol.

“I’ve been there at least a hundred times before and this time, it felt… like, I don’t know, like it was weird.” he explained. “Like I didn’t know the place as much anymore.”

“How else would you describe it?” she questioned. “What emotions did you recognize?”

“Um… I don’t know. Alien? Unfamiliar?” He tapped the webbed fingers of his gloves over the Spider-Man emblem on his chest. “They’d cut down a couple trees since last time, maybe that was it.”

“What emotions did you feel?” Dr. V implored.

“Oh,” he replied, thinking more deeply. “Um... I guess… I felt surprised?” His statement abandoned its confidence midway through and his tone pitched up into a question. “I mean, it’s been... months. Things have been busy at the lab, but… I guess... I was surprised at how long it’s been. Just made me feel surprised, ‘s all.”

“Surprised?” she repeated for clarification. “At the time that’s passed since you last went?”

He swallowed hard, and she recognized the discomfort in his throat. “Yeah, I guess.” He added with a melancholy tone, “It’s like time got away from me.”

“Ten years is a long time,” she nodded with understanding. She waited, letting a silence fall between them.

“Guilty, I guess,” Peter admitted after some time. “I guess I felt guilty.”

She tilted her chin slightly, contemplating his admission. It was interesting, but par for the course for Spider-Man.

“You’ve said many times you thought that Gwen would be happy for you if she could see you now,” she empathetically mentioned. The reverence with which she discussed the first love of Spider-Man’s life was not lost on him, even if she was missing some important details. Peter appreciated it. “She’d want you to spend a little more time on your present,” Dr. V reminded him of his own words. “A little less time in the past.”

He swallowed hard once again. She didn’t need to see his face to see the corners of his mouth turned down. Despite all of the healing and the happiness, her death left a scar that would never truly fade.

“It feels bad,” he explained, barely above a whisper. “Thinking of her as ‘the past.’”

“It shouldn’t,” the wiser woman stated simply. “Your past is just as important as your future. It made you who you are.”

A longer beat passed between them. She couldn’t see the expression on his face, but could hear the shadow in his voice. He sounded quiet. Defeated. Ashamed.

“I know,” he answered, sadly.

10 YEARS EARLIER

Peter’s skateboard skidded to a stop just outside of the gates of Midtown Science. He kicked the board up into his hands, catching it as he bounded towards the front of the school, ripping the corded earbuds blaring the latest from The Black Keys out of his ears. He glanced down in enough time to spot the gloves of his Spider suit still on. In a panic, he yanked them off, nearly dropping his skateboard as he struggled to conceal them into his Jansport pack.

A school bell rang and Peter groaned in defeat. He nearly tore the zipper trying to close the pack, his feet carrying him (late) towards his first class. He stopped short before he entered the building, a peculiar sight catching his attention.

In the distance of the manicured kelly green lawn, he spotted the school principal and two uniformed classmates standing at the base of the courtyard flagpole. Carefully, one of the two high school students wearing light blue and navy-combination uniforms with military insignia held a salute, while the other reverently lowered the American flag. They lowered it midway down the pole, leaving it to rest. The other student stepped back a few feet from the pole and joined his classmate in salute, both of them staring up at the blazing red, white, and blue colors flapping in the breeze.

Peter curled a brow at the scene. Before the school principal could turn his attention towards him, he quickly rushed inside. His converse squeaked as he bounded slightly above a normal person’s pace through the school hallway, past rows of lockers and classes already in session.

Without being inside any of the rooms he could tell something electric was in the air. His senses picked up on whispers and chatter. He could even pull a few words and repeated phrases as he scurried through the hallway towards homeroom. The energy flowing was laden with something thick. A stifling black cloud that hung over the campus.

By the time Peter reached the door of his class, his stomach was twisting in knots. He paused in the doorway, catching a glare from his teacher and the other students. He paid them no attention; they weren’t who he was looking for.

His focus zeroed in on a pair of giant, warm, hazel-green eyes peeking out from a curtain of blonde silk seated at a desk in front of his empty one. His shoulders slumped a bit, his nerves calming at the sight of Gwen Stacy sitting safely near the front of the class. Her brow was furrowed with concern, while in contrast he felt a heavy weight lift off of him, even as his teacher notified him that he now had detention on Friday.

Peter nodded without a word and shuffled across the classroom to take his seat. It looked like he wasn’t interrupting very much, as the same, uncomfortable buzz that occupied the rest of the school also filled his homeroom.

“So... I guess this means we’re putting a pin in pho on Friday?” Gwen sighed and whispered under her breath, not turning around to face her boyfriend as he slid into his seat behind her.

“What? No, what? No pins,” Peter stuttered, his words tumbling over one another as his brain simultaneously worked on overdrive to assess his environment. “No pins in pho. Spoons. Or chopsticks, whatever you use. Pho is happening. It’s a yes. Always a yes—why would you pin that?”

“Because you have detention on Friday,” Gwen chided with a smirk. “Again.”

“No, don’t worry about that,” he shrugged as he shifted around in his seat. He pushed the thick frames of his glasses up on his nose, his eyes darting around the room. Gwen thought he sounded like an entire band loading in their equipment. She wondered how Spider-Man could possibly be so stealthy if her boyfriend was a mess.

“Who said I was worried?” she said covertly, her eyes glued to their teacher. “I’m not the one with detention—”

“Hey, you look really pretty today, did I say that?” he interrupted, his voice as sweet as honey. She rolled her eyes and failed to contain her blushing smirk, his breath warm on the nape of her neck. “You smell pretty too. Are you wearing that flower stuff? That... um, what’s it called?”

“Gardenia,” Gwen supplied, under her breath.

“That’s it, that’s the one,” Peter said with an audible grin. “Didn’t I get you that? For your birthday?”

“Hmm,” Gwen puckered her lips, squinting her eyes as she fake-jogged her memory. “Nope.”

“I didn’t? I’m sure I did—”

“Nope,” she reassured him. “You didn’t.”

“I got you some perfume... I remember this, I got you... some kind of... scent, right?”

“Fish.”

“That’s it!—wait, what? Fish?”

“You got me dinner at that fish place on Lexington.”

“That’s right. I got you the dinner. We had the dinner.”

“We didn’t have the dinner yet, Peter. You got me a gift certificate. You canceled. Twice—”

“What?” he exclaimed. “No... We’re gonna go. We’re going this weekend.”

“Not on Friday, we’re not. Hey, don’t forget, we’re going over chem notes together tonight after dinner.”

“You still smell really pretty, that was—that was the point I was trying to make, I was trying to compliment you and... I like how you smell. It’s not like, y’know—At all.”

She pursed her lips, feeling heat rise up from her neck and blush her cheeks. She was grateful her back was turned towards Peter so he couldn’t relish in the pink hue that he always managed to paint her cheeks. Even if he could hear her heart flutter anyway.

“Mr. Parker,” their teacher chastised from the front, having called for silence a minute ago.

“Sorry,” Peter coughed, lifting a hand apologetically. He lowered his head, hiding behind Gwen, his eyes still scanning over the vitals of the rest of his class. “Hey,” he continued his conversation with Gwen more discreetly, although he didn’t silence the tapping of his pencil on his comp book. She grimaced as her chatterbox boyfriend asked, “Is something going on here today? Something’s... off. It’s like somebody died, or something.”

He didn’t miss the way her muscles locked up. She turned her head around, her eyes piercing. “Somebody did die,” she whispered with a grave tone, and quickly faced the front before the teacher could call her on it.

Peter’s brows arched with concern.

“It was a kid that used to go here a few years ago,” she discreetly explained. There was an unmistakable reverence in her tone, and for a moment Peter wondered if they knew the deceased personally. “He was in the Army,” she added. “Some kind of terrorist bombing in Iraq.”

His head tilted curiously. A loud beep over the PA system brought everything, including his teacher, to silence.

“Good morning, Midtown Panthers, this is Principal Davis,” the masculine, tinny voice announced over the speakers. Normally, Peter and his classmates would have chortled and snickered at their principal’s awkward daily greeting—as if the same voice wired to the front office which gave morning announcements every single day would be anyone but Principal Davis. Did he really need to introduce himself every day?

This morning, though, there were no laughs.

“I have some unfortunate news to report,” the voice declared solemnly. You could hear a pin drop in Peter’s classroom, even without superpowers. “Some of you might have already heard that we lost one of our own this week. We are deeply saddened to hear of the tragic passing of one of Midtown High’s greatest players and beloved sons, First Lieutenant Steven Westcott.”

The pencil stopped tapping.

“Steven was cherished by the faculty, coaches, and his classmates at Midtown. We remember him as a steward of this community, as well as a true leader... to his peers and to his team.”

The clock stopped ticking.

“Many of you know he helped bring our first state championship to Midtown High Basketball. Those of us that had the good fortune to know Steven always believed he had a bright future ahead of him. Little did we know what a hero he truly was…”

Peter stopped breathing.

“Today at noon there will be a memorial service held in the courtyard, where we can come together and—”

He stopped hearing.

He couldn’t move. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if the school was attacked by a giant lizard, or Freddy Krueger riding in on a Tyrannosaurus Rex. A tornado could rip the school to shreds and Spider-Man would be motionless, carried away helplessly by the wind like seeds of a daffodil. Peter stayed still—

...just be still, stop squirming around for once...

—so still he couldn’t tell that he had started breathing again.

...just breathe through your nose, that’s all you gotta do...

Time wasn’t frozen, just moving so painfully slow.

... just relax and quit spazzing out and it won’t hurt so bad, I promise...

Sweat was beading down his back. He was aware of this fact, but he couldn’t feel the perspiration. His skin was numb.

...just relax, Pete, just like that...

Peter shot up out of his seat like he was struck by lightning. It was a miracle that he hadn’t outed himself right then by sticking to the ceiling like a cartoon cat. His chest was tight, and everyone’s eyes were on him, and he couldn’t move but he needed to run. To outrun. He needed to throw up.

He made it into a stall in the boys’ bathroom just in time for his stomach to turn inside out.

When the deed was done, he hit the flush handle of the toilet and leaned back on the partition wall in exhaustion. His face and chest were covered in sweat. Tears pricked his eyes. Boiling acid burned the lining of his stomach and throat.

But at least he could breathe again. His legs were jelly underneath him as he struggled to steady himself. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, gazing up at the old stained tiles of the bathroom ceiling.

“Parker...?” he heard a masculine voice echo through the bathroom. He froze again, not having noticed he wasn’t alone anymore. The realization threatened to send him into another panic—if he couldn’t rely on his goddamn Spider senses then what could he rely on?—but he fought to keep those feelings at bay.

“Pete, you in here?” the voice repeated, and now he recognized the source. Flash Thompson stood near the doorway, probably a foot from the wall and a sink basin based on the echo patterns. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Peter could hear his heart rate was slightly elevated, no doubt some sort of empathetic response to hearing someone else puke their guts out.

“You alive?”

Peter huffed, groaning curtly. “What is it, Flash?”

Several seconds of silence passed. Peter could hear more shuffling. He could hear Flash’s chewed fingernails scratch at his scalp. Through the stench of bleach and piss in the washroom, he smelled the anxiety coming from his classmate’s body and out of his gym shoes.

“Nothin’,” Flash shrugged after the awkward pause. “Just... wonderin’ if you need somethin’, is all...”

The boys had known each other since the sixth grade. Flash had issues. Everyone knew about them. His dad was a drunk, and the boy struggled to hide his dyslexia his whole life.

He came to Peter at the start of senior year and asked him for tutoring when Gwen’s schedule got busier, a feat which took an enormous amount of gall. Or bravery, as Gwen put it. Despite his reservations, Peter didn’t take the show of trust lightly. It was safe to say they now respected each other. For all of Flash’s faults and their tumultuous history together, he was a good guy at heart.

But in that moment, Peter couldn’t give a fuck.

He glared at the graffitied partition wall, setting his jaw firmly. The words left his mouth before he could think of them. “What could I possibly need from you?” Peter bit back.

The sting of the words cut through the thick air. He could hear Flash’s breath catch, like he’d been slapped in the face.

Guy was probably used to that, Peter thought guiltily.

“Whatever, man,” Flash grumbled with a defensive tone. Before Peter could open his mouth to apologize, he was alone again.

The assembly went on as scheduled. Most of the faculty was in attendance, as well as the entire basketball team and just about every student in athletics.

Gwen was also there, having been asked to read some heartfelt passage about true heroism. She agreed, embracing her role as a student body leader, as Valedictorian, and unfortunately—as the daughter of a slain New York City police captain. She ought to get used to making speeches like that, she once told Peter. With dismay, Gwen recognized that her name would always be associated with grief.

She had asked if Peter was okay after he disappeared in homeroom. She had been on edge all morning, assuming his Spidey senses must have gone off and alerted him to some big threat nearby. He told her cryptically that it was taken care of. She informed him that he now had detention every day next week.

Gwen also asked if Peter was going to the memorial assembly. It would have been nice to see a friendly face in the crowd as she talked to her classmates about loss, she admitted. He assured her that he would be there.

Two minutes into the assembly, as soon as the first chair trumpet began to play “Taps,” Peter was out.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in his bed, earbuds blaring, his eyes squeezed shut under the glow of his bedside lamp. The sun had set once he found the strength to leave his room, his Jansport pack slung over his shoulder.

“Peter, can you believe the news?” May’s voice stopped him in the foyer, his hand on the doorknob. He flinched at the brokenness of her timbre, the sound of someone who’d been crying out old memories. Reluctantly, he decided not to pretend he hadn't heard her. He could ignore a lot of pain, but he couldn’t stand the sound of his Aunt May in tears.

May sat in their modest and crowded kitchen, posted up on a barstool as she remained transfixed over the small kitchen TV. Peter noted that while she wasn’t much of a drinker, she’d poured herself a hefty glassful of a cheap red blend. The remaining half of the bottle sat in front of her; the cork was nowhere to be found.

“This is just awful,” May tearfully exclaimed. The news was on. The chyron provided details: CAR BOMB KILLS 4 U.S. ARMY SOLDIERS, LOCAL HERO AMONG THE DEAD. But Peter knew the context of the news report by the distraught look on May’s face.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen him,” May reminisced. “I can’t believe how much time got away from us. You weren’t even in high school yet when he moved in next door. I remember when he told us he was going into the Army.”

She sniffed, using her sleeve to wipe away teardrops that invaded the deep wrinkles of her skin. She looked so much older tonight, Peter noticed—the weight of battling exhaustion, and bill collectors, and a nursing program, and loneliness, and an uncertain future, and time itself taking its toll.

“I can’t believe he’s…Ugh, I’ve got to call Annette, I’m sure I still have her number somewhere…” May babbled with concern for her former next door neighbor, wiping her nose with a damp tissue. “This is just— God bless. I can’t imagine what she’s going through—I need eggs. I should make her a casserole...”

The television set displayed still images now. Peter watched them and was transfixed, fading in and out in dull fashion as if they were thrown together with iMovie. The deceased posing for an official portrait in dress blues. A candid of the deceased in a sand-colored, digitally-camouflage combat uniform, his callsign embroidered on his helmet: ‘SKIP.’ Finally, a sports action photo of the deceased on the basketball court wearing a Midtown High jersey, moments away from sinking a clean 3-point shot.

The last photo had something rising in his throat. Bile. Rage. Anguish. Tears. He didn’t know. He looked just the way Peter had remembered. That handsome face, now forever encapsulated within a photo frame, frozen in time. Lodged in his memories like a splinter.

“You two were so close for a while,” May lamented, sniffing as she poured herself another glass. “We also need milk, we’re almost out.”

The last time he’d seen her drink that much was after—

“God, Ben just adored him,” she added, choking back a sob. “He’d be just heartbroken if he were still alive.”

She jumped as the front door slammed, nearly shattering the glass in Peter’s wake.

Gwen stirred awake to the frantic sound of tapping at her bedroom window. She glanced over with bleary eyes towards the source, and saw a blurry red-and-blue figure on her fire escape. He peeked through the window, waving at her. He could see she was awake, and she hoped that he could see the scowl on her face.

Apparently he didn’t take the hint when she locked her window. Gwen let out a long, exasperated sigh as she stared at the ceiling. Peter tapped gently once again, and she gritted her teeth, throwing the covers off.

She stomped to the window, letting her boyfriend inside. She had a mouthful of words ready for him, but lacked the energy to unleash her full wrath. He looked tired as well, but he was more in a state of being wired while exhausted. Like he was pulling another all-nighter running on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Monster Energy Drink.

“Hi, hi… thank you, you locked your window? Why did you lock your window? You should really close your curtains at night—”

“It’s late, Peter,” Gwen growled, not masking her annoyance.

“Yes, I know, but you invited me over—”

“You’re late, Peter! Like eight hours late!” she whispered harshly.

“I know, I know, but there’s a disturbance—”

“And you didn’t text me!”

“—these carjacker guys stole somebody’s car—”

“You ignored all of my texts! We talked about this! You can’t just do that!”

“—and by the time I caught up they were rollin’ into some kinda warehouse by the docks, and inside there were tons of guys—”

“I must be the only idiot in New York who has to check the news every time her boyfriend ghosts her—!”

“I did not; I didn’t ghost you, I was—I was gonna text you back, but I thought these guys were stripping cars for parts but they were actually hiding drugs inside—”

“Jesus, Peter, you’re covered in blood!” she hissed, her eyes widening at the red staining her fingertips.

He paused, finally breaking his one-sided, stream-of-consciousness conversation, staring at her hands in shock.

“Lead with that next time!” she grumbled as she spun towards her nightstand where she kept the first-aid supplies.

Peter grabbed her arm, a bit too hard, pulling her back. “No, leave them, it’s fine—” He was sweating, but she didn’t know it was from more than the exertion of web-swinging.

“And have you bleed all over my rug again?” she scoffed. “No, thank you.”

“No, Gwen, I’m fine, I just—” His hand gripped her upper arm tighter and innately reeled her into his grasp. “It’s fine, I just need to clean up…”

She shook her head, trying to keep her resolve firm even as her eyes scaled up the mountains and valleys of her boyfriend’s muscles. Peter’s eyes were darker, the warm amber melting into a pool of dark chocolate that she could easily drown herself in if she stared too long. His fingers were searching for her, his ruby lips parted slightly, as he dragged her deeper into his depths.

She was distracted again, she realized. Her mouth had gone dry. So she did the only thing she could do.

“The majority of casualties during the Civil War were due to infection,” Gwen replied, with an audible gulp. “Not due to—”

“Actual injury,” Peter nodded, his lips brushing against hers. “That’s fascinating, tell me more about it.” He peppered breathless kisses along her jaw, each one sucking a bit deeper into her flesh.

“Well,” she breathed heavily, failing to subtly squeeze her thighs together, “battlefield medicine hadn’t progressed enough and….” His hands crept up her nightshirt, prickling her skin and causing goose flesh to form on her back. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her balance swaying in his arms. “…the-the, um, use of heavier ar-artillery and firepower meant they—oh— um, ha-had to amputate more—”

Peter licked a stripe up her throat and she forgot what war she was talking about. She leaned back in his arms, moaning softly, as he laid siege to her chest, capturing her weight in his grip.

“I just need a shower,” he mumbled into her skin, his hands running down her waist. His reach gripped her hips, traveled over her rear, and lifted her up further into his hold. “And I need you. In there with me.”

She tilted her head to allow for better access as she contemplated where this affection was going to lead. Thanks to her mother’s new nightly regimen of Ambien and Chardonnay, they were unlikely to be disturbed. And her siblings were heavy sleepers. Gwen was still risk-averse when it came to sex under the same roof as her parents. But less so after it became a singular factor.

Still. It was late, and a school night, and—

Peter slipped under the hem of her sleep shorts, his fingers prodding at the core of her soaked panties. He whispered in the shell of her ear, voice dripping with temptation, “Let me make it up to you… Please…”

And that’s all it took for her inhibitions to vanish.

Water rushing from the shower head muffled most of the quiet, whispered gasps and moans coming from the hallway bathroom. She hoped her siblings wouldn’t question why she was taking a shower at 3am.

Something was different about Peter, she recognized immediately. He was bold in a way that she’d only seen while he was wearing the mask. He was usually passionate, but this night he was particularly needy. A selfish generosity. Gifts that at times felt like little mocking curses upon her dominant strength, poise, and independence.

His tongue and touch roamed over her face, hips, breasts, thighs, and finally to her aching core. He didn’t slow down or seem to care when her gasps and pleas became a little too loud for her comfort. She reached up to cup her own mouth to keep quiet, only to have him snatch her hand away and pin both wrists to the walls of her shower. He wanted to hear her. He wanted everyone in the building to hear her. He wanted her to get off on the fear of relinquishing her control.

He was driven, like he was on a conquest. His touch was a wildfire, and it scorched her as he buried himself in the inferno between her thighs. He dominated her mercilessly, focused on the heat of her tiny whimpers in his ear and the burn of little scratches on his shoulders and back.

He wanted to consume her. He wanted her subjugation. He wanted to take the smartest girl in his school, his only true academic rival—the number one to his number two—and fuck her stupid.

And it was working. She hadn’t even noticed the blood soaking his suit wasn’t his.

And it was those ghastly images he had painted on the insides of his eyes—twisted and mangled bodies, bent into shapes no human form should take—as he chased his release. Crimson ink dripped down and drenched him with memories as he rammed into her, his nose filling with the smell of copper.

No webbing and no cutesy handwritten notes would be found at the scene when the carnage was uncovered. That thought alone filled him with a rush. A thrill that only hardened his cock more. No one would know about the violence Spider-Man unleashed on the gang of drug runners—

—no one has to know, it’s just this one time, it’ll be our secret—

—and if anyone had their wits about them enough to remember and talk, no one would believe it. Peter could barely believe it himself. He couldn’t really remember it. One moment he was seeing red, and the next minute he was standing in a puddle of it.

That was clever, he mused. Morbidly funny.

He was close. He bit down on the flesh of his girlfriend’s shoulder to stifle a groan, that was sure to come out more like a laugh. An elated, unhinged laugh fueled with unapologetic power. He was so close, if only she’d stop squirming—

—what’d I say about movin’ around so much, it won’t hurt so bad if you just stop—

“Peter, stop!” Gwen’s panicked voice shattered through his thoughts, and his body turned to ice.

He blinked the fog from his eyes to see his fingers gripping the back of her wet mop of cornsilk hair, her cheek red from having been shoved into the tile wall. She was gasping for breath, hissing curse words at him, and shoving him off her backside. His eyes widened in shock as he spotted an angry, purpling bite mark on her back, near her shoulder blade.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” she snapped with an acidic tone of voice he’d never heard from her before. She spun around and faced him. “Didn’t you fucking hear me when I said ‘stop’?”

Her expression was livid. Disgusted. Betrayed.

Peter was dizzy, but not from lust. In fact, he was limp. The steaming shower felt cold all of a sudden. It pounded on him like freezing rain and sleet, but he still felt a rise of boiling hot sickness crawl up his throat.

“I—” He mumbled groggily. He couldn’t figure out how to work his vocal cords. “I-I’m so—” His tiny voice fell off a cliff. He gazed at her with wide, horrified eyes, tears forming there concealed in the shower stream. He swallowed his tongue. Panic was rising beneath his skin.

And then he bolted. Sopping wet and stark naked, snatching up his bloodied suit as he rushed out. He dripped blood on the bathroom floor, and on the bedroom rug, as Gwen later discovered when she entered her room to find nothing but an empty open window.

She didn’t bring it up with him. They didn’t speak a word to each other about that night.

And they never would.

Because Peter would spend the next week in detention. And he’d be grounded for staying out all night and scaring May—regardless of whether he had eggs with him when he reappeared. And soon after he’d be a high school graduate, and he would miss her big speech, and Peter would break up with her again. For the final time.

And he never spoke about any of it until he was on that broken leather loveseat, musing over how time got away from him.

“What would you have told her,” Dr. V asked, “if you had gotten a chance to talk about what happened that night?”

Peter stared up at the ceiling on the tenth anniversary of Gwen’s death. His mask was soaked with tears; he wept with shame.

“I’m sorry,” he replied with a broken voice. “For everything.”

Part Four.

A/N your comments and tags have been amazing to read, and so very moving that this strikes a chord. Thank you my lovelies for your kindness! The next chapter is either going to be really long, or we'll end up with a part 5. What's your preference?

Did you like this chapter? Please show your support with a comment, reply, reblog or anonymous ask and THANK YOU for supporting fandom writers!

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parkerpeter24 · 4 months

Text

quiet temptations

pairing ➳ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count ➳ 2.3k

warnings ➳ SMUT. characters are 18+ and MINORS DNI. this contains depictions of fingering, oral (m recieving). fluff, peter being sweet but also horny-

summary ➳ you’re awfully quiet but peter can’t seem to take that.

“is everything alright?” peter mumbled as he laid beside you. your back was to him, his arm wrapped around you, “you’re not talking.”

the bed you were laying on was warm, a thin blanket over the sheets because you got extra cold during the winters and a quilt that covered you and peter both. your fingers danced against the wall adjacent to the bed, feeling the cold plaster contrasting peter’s own fingertips that danced on your waist, under your sweatshirt.

“you gonna talk?” he placed a kiss on your hair that was loosely tucked behind your ear, making it fall over your eyes. chuckling when he heard you groan and push the lock of hair back in its original place, “so.. no?”

you sighed softly.

“that’s alright.” peter responded, feeling as if he was just talking to himself now, “we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

the sound of your hum was accompanied by peter’s hand gliding under your sweatshirt and caressing your stomach. he was careful, as if you were made up of glass, watching out for any signs of refusal on your face but your features looked solemn, unchanging.

he sighed, not being able to hold in his concern, “alright, just nod if everything is okay…”

he waited for you and surely you did nod after a few seconds, making peter’s worries dissipate.

“what’s gotten you so quiet?” he tried to get you to talk, his fingers taking a detour from trailing upwards, making contact with the elastic hem of your sweatpants– which originally belonged to him, “‘cause one way or another, i’m gonna hear that pretty voice.”

you felt your face heat up but peter still didn’t notice any change in your expression. if he couldn’t see the blinking of your eyes and sense changing breathing pattern, he’d have assumed you were asleep.

“at least tell me you want this.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing his lips against your exposed skin.

“yeah.” you mumbled and peter wasted no time in sliding his hand under the fabric of your lower, arm holding your body against him. you let out a soft breath as his fingers travelled lower. his middle finger slid your panties to the side before making contact with the skin. he pressed soft kisses to your neck before his nimble finger delved into your folds.

a leg pressed between both of yours, parting your thighs as he nestled a warm hand against your sex.

you let out a soft sound, clutching onto the quilt. his finger sank deeper until he found the earliest bit of your arousal and pulled it out, wanting to spread the wetness everywhere.

his finger travelled up to your clit, circling around it and you bit your lip when he fucked it back into you, knuckle deep. he groaned softly, loving the way your muscles almost clenched his finger.

he repeated his actions a few more times until you couldn’t hold back the soft needy moans that he beyond waited to hear. you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your neck before he sucked that spot, soothing the sting from the bite.

you moaned when he curled his finger, trying to search for a spot that would make your sounds louder. his finger dipped into you inch by inch every time, showing he was in no hurry.

peter’s arm was strongly keeping you pressed against himself as you started to arch your back. he could tell you were getting needy but he wished to hear something from you– even though he was loving the musical moans you were letting out.

he pressed his ring finger into the mix, adding it when he pumped them into you the next time. his face pressed further into your hair when you tried to get away. he could tell you needed more– you were writhing, trying to grind your hips into his already hard cock– but he kept going at the slowest pace he could. one brush of his fingers against your most intimate spot and your lips parted in a loud gasp.

you tried to arch your back which only led to peter’s arm pressing harder against your abdomen. his lips were pressed together, letting out soft hums which accompanied each one of your moans as if encouraging you.

he pulled out both his fingers, fucking in again and then back out and in again until it became a faster rhythm. squelching sounds filled the mostly silent room as his leg parted yours even further.

peter rolled his fingers into you continuously, the heel of his palm nudging against your clit which had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “pete-” you gasped, “m-more.”

the desperation in your voice made peter grind into your ass. his fingers fucked you faster, holding your legs apart, curling them into you just right until you were jutting your hips, chasing your high.

“good girl.” peter mumbled, “keep it up, baby.”

his fingers moved continuously in and out of you. he could tell you were close with the way you clenched his fingers, however before the coil in your abdomen burst, his fingers pulled out of you, a soft wet sound following it– completely opposite to the loud whine that left your mouth.

“oh my god- why’d you stop?!”

“now you wanna talk?” he mumbled into your hair.

you felt your cheeks heating up further than they were. you hid your face into the pillow, but peter wasn’t letting that happen. he tugged at your chin with his free hand, “oh, baby. trust me, i want you to cum.”

you whined, biting your lip softly at his dirty words. you wondered if peter came prepared for this because no other day would you have expected such filthy words escaping his lips. he’d never done so before in all the times you two were intimate.

he turned you around gently, slowly pressing his forehead against yours as he brought up his fingers to his own lips, sucking them clean. he moaned at the taste as his tongue swirled around the digits, sending a wave of shivers up your spine and arousal to your core.

the second his fingers were released from between his soft, warm lips, your own pair replaced them, tasting remnants of yourself on his lips. you moaned softly, pressing your chest up against his.

“want you.” you breathed out heavily.

peter only shook his head, “not until you tell me what’s with the silence.”

“huh-” your brows pulled together in confusion, “you’re really not gonna-”

“first you tell me what happened.” he pecked your lips once, twice, and a few more times.

you sighed, pursing your lips as you tried to formulate what to say to him– or rather how.

when peter saw you struggle, opening your mouth and then closing it, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, “it’s okay, you should take your time.”

you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand transfer to your cheek as your eyes met. his chocolate brown eyes swam with what you could identify as pure adoration.

“until then…” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.

soft at first, it escalated when he brushed his tongue past your lips, quickly finding yours in a slow yet passionate dance. peter pressed you against the mattress, handling the covers to stay over your bodies.

he wasted no time in moving his lips to your neck, hands going to hold your thighs apart as his thumb now brushed against your clothed thigh, kneading gently as his teeth nipped at your collarbone.

you gasped softly, letting him do as he pleased with you. as you held the back of his head with one hand, the soft, brunette sea of hair engulfed your fingers.

peter moved his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, wasting no time in sliding it up past your chest, careful enough that you weren’t exposed to the coldness of the room. he dived under the quilt, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, the other being knead in the palm of his fingers.

you gasped as peter’s tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, your stomach flush against his torso.

you could feel his lips curl into a smirk before he switched, rolling your sensitive left nipple between his slender fingers as he licked and pulled the right one in his mouth.

you were getting fidgety, squirming under peter as he felt your grip tighten on his locks, not enough to hurt. he moaned against your skin, placing a few kisses right under your breast, moving lower, now seeming in a hurry.

“pete-” you almost pleaded, finding your voice breathy.

his hands travelled under the pair of sweatpants, making quick work of sliding them down as he traced your thighs, down to your knees before you felt the material slide off you.

you lifted the quilt slightly, just wanting to get a glimpse of peter. the few rays of light that touched him weren’t fast enough to warn you as his lips pressed to the wet patch over your panties. you gasped and threw your head back.

you felt peter’s hot breath and the muffled sound of his moan from under the blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, diving deeper as his nose pressed against your clit, the fabric thick enough to make you grit your teeth, wanting his lips and tongue on you.

maybe peter heard the clenching of your teeth or the way that your hand found home in the tufts of his hair again but he was eagerly pushing down the material past your legs throwing it down to the floor.

you felt peter’s forearms lift your thighs as he shuffled closer to your core, licking up a bold stripe across your folds. your back arched but peter’s grip was keeping you against him.

for a moment you heard him groan as he retracted, “what’s wrong?” you breathed out, supporting yourself up on your elbows.

you almost laughed when his hand creeped out from under the quilt, holding his fogged up glasses out for you to take. with a chuckle, you held the frame between your fingers, quickly placing them to the bedside table.

as you laid your back against the bed, peter was quick to wrap his lips around your clit. you let out a moan as he licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves.

he held onto your thighs, keeping you firm against his lips as he explored the very intimate part of you. his tongue darted out, poking at your entrance, but not giving you enough time to notice that as he slid the muscle deeper against your walls.

you moaned, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle the lewdest sound you’ve ever made. the bridge of his nose poked against your clit and peter only pressed deeper as his tongue delved in and out of you. it seemed as if he would see no tomorrow if he stopped making out with your dripping hole.

you arched your back, “pete- oh god-”

you felt him hum against you, sending your jaw drop open as you finally felt the pleasure crash all over your body. your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. you could swear this was the hardest you’d ever come before as goosebumps covered your arms.

you let out a sigh as peter helped you ride out your high, keeping up his ministrations. finally stopping, he placed a soft kiss over your clit, sending your body flinching at the action.

when peter climbed out from under the blanket, surely he looked like he needed to clean up. his chin dripping with your arousal and forehead all sweaty from being so long under the warm quilt.

“you need to wash your face.” you chuckled, brushing back a few locks of hair that were sticking to his forehead.

“and you need to tell me what’s wrong.” he mumbled and you sat up, adjusting your sweatshirt back down.

“it’s nothing-”

“and don’t you dare say it’s nothing.” he sat up as well, beside you, wiping mouth with the sleeve of his shirt– that thing was going in the washing machine the second this conversation was over.

“it’s… just… exams and stuff. you know how anxious i get.” you sighed.

“i know… but you don’t have to! there’s still a week left before-”

“okay, that may seem like a long time but trust me, it’s not.” you looked up at him, meeting the brown eyes that held concern, “i’m sorry, i… i was just overwhelmed. didn’t feel like talking.” you almost pouted, making peter pull you against his chest as he hugged you. you in turn wrapped your arms around his waist.

“trust me, i know how stressful exams can be. but it’s nothing you haven’t been through before.” he placed a soft kiss against your hair, making you hug him even tighter, “you got this, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. easy for you to say.”

he chuckled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re like, i don’t know, the smartest guy of our whole generation.” you mumbled against his shoulder.

peter shrugged at that comment, “hey, even i watch youtube videos for help sometimes.”

“yeah, but you grasp every concept so quickly, like you don’t even have to try.” you looked up at him, blinking when you realised how that must have sounded, “...that was supposed to be a compliment.”

“you’re adorable.” peter chuckled, “how about we study together? i’ll make a time table; and don’t worry, it’s not going to be super chaotic, just a simple time table; and we can figure it out together. how’s that sound?”

you smiled at him, feeling your heart swell at the amount of his care, “sounds perfect.”

his smile mirrored yours, “thanks for telling me.”

you gave him a grin.

“now since i told you, can we fuc-”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

masterlist

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urrockstar-xe · 3 months

Text

math test - p.parker x fem!reader

posted jan 27th, 2024 3:28 pm

came up with this cutesy idea the other day, hope u enjoy :)

summary: Peter's tired of allowing Spider-Man to be a shitty boyfriend, so he makes up for it the only way he can think of that wouldn't get you in trouble.

masterlist

not proofread

wordcount: 0.8k

It was nearing 2 in the morning when Peter slowly lifted his window open from the outside, not so gracefully falling inside once it was a wide enough gap, followed by him stumbling several times as he tried to close his window while simultaneously trying to take off the red and blue spandex suit that so badly needs a wash.

The sound of his old bed frame creaking caught Peter’s attention once he finally pulled on some sweatpants.

He whipped around, his gaze immediately falling to your half-asleep figure in his bed, a familiar sight now, one Peter had adored. Your half-opened eyes tried to focus on his silhouette.

“Shit, hey sweetheart I didn’t mean to wake you” Peter’s whispered apology was laced with a soft muffled tone as he pulled a hoodie over his head, not bothering to fix his hair as he made his way towards his bed. “Didn’t know you were sleepin’ over tonight” He said with a tired smile playing on his lips, the bags under his eyes failing to distract you from the beauty that was your sleep-deprived boyfriend as you merely scooted over for him to join you.

“Supposed to help me study for that test” you mumbled, no malice in your voice, no hints of irritation, not even a slight sadness to your voice at the thought of him forgetting about your plans. All you cared about at this moment was your boyfriend cuddling with you, using all your energy to open your arms for him to slide into.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, looking down by the nightstand and seeing your backpack on the floor, a math book sitting on the floor beside it next to a few pens. So that’s what he tripped on when he came in.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, doll. We can work on it first thing in the morning, swear.” Peter promised, giving into what you wanted and sliding in bed next to you, wasting no time in wrapping you in his arms.

“It’s due tomorrow, and I have to leave early for that dumb field trip.” You mumbled into his shoulder, not meaning to but making Peter feel all the worse for forgetting as he softly smoothed his hand up and down your back.

By the time Peter woke up the next morning you had already left, leaving behind a note on his desk.

”don’t think too hard about that test, I’ll just ask if I can have extended time on it. I’m just happy you got home safe”

The little hearts surrounding your name at the bottom and the emphasis on him getting back at all seemed to have the opposite effect on Peter than you had intended.

As now, he just seemed more determined to fix this problem he had made.

You laughed as your friend lifted her arms into the air, taking in a big deep breath as you both finally got off the bus, “freedom!” she exclaimed.

“We have that test in like 30 minutes” You reminded her with a smile, earning a glare in response. “Buzzkill”

You chuckled this time, before watching her lift her finger and point behind you, turning as you followed where she was pointing, “that’s geek charming, what’s he doin’ here?” she asked quietly, expecting you to have an answer as you watched your boyfriend hurry over to you, green folder in his hand.

“No clue, I’ll meet you inside” You smiled at her, watching her nod and smile back in response, walking backward towards the school while she obnoxiously waves and says “Hi, Peter!”

Peter waved back, finally in front of you as he turned his gaze to see you already looking at him, with a soft smile.

“Hey,” Peter matched your smile, holding out the folder to you before you could respond. “For your test, you forgot your math stuff in my room, so”

You smiled, taking it gratefully, “Thanks, Petey. Although I don’t know how much help it’ll be-” Peter cut you off, “I mapped out in your notebook exactly how you can find any answers for the test and explained it in notes how I knew you’d be able to understand” You looked at him in awe as he rambled, watching as he took off his backpack and fumbled with it before pulling out your math notebook and handing it to you. “Peter-” “I almost wish I could take the test for you, I’ve just had so much to do lately as you know who and that’s no excuse for ditching my best girl when she needed my help so I figured this was the least I could do” Peter continued, taking a breath once he had finished.

You set the folder and notebook down on the grass, pulling Peter into a tight embrace. “This is nice” he mumbled into your shoulder, squeezing your waist ever so slightly. “I love you, Peter Parker” You mumbled back, pulling back just enough to set a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you more, now go pass your test and make me proud, you can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” Peter smiled at you, chuckling as you placed one, two, three more kisses on his mouth before pulling away and grabbing your stuff.

“When I pass, you’re buying me dinner, baby!” You said, beginning to walk away.

“Whatever you want, doll!”

#tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm x reader #tasm x you #tasm x y/n #peter parker imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #the amazing spiderman x reader #Spotify

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alwaysmoncheri · 1 month

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

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

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

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bruisedboys · 4 months

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peter parker and “is that my shirt?” prompt would be so cute!

congrats on 6k

thank u angel! hope u like this!! join the celebration

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

Peter’s missed you so much he actually feels kind of sick. He’s practically buzzing as he unlocks the apartment door and lugs his suitcase inside.

“Angel?”

There’s a loud and very cute squeal from down the hall. Rapid footsteps, and then you appear in your pyjamas, beaming bright as the sun, looking like the prettiest thing Peter’s ever seen.

“Peter!” You squeal, a ball of excitement. “Baby. Oh my gosh.” You cross the room and throw your arms around his neck. Peter laughs, his chest flooding with warmth, and hugs you back twice as strong.

“Hi, honey,” he says, lovelorn. You smell amazing. You look like an angel. You’re squeezing him to death. He’s missed you so much he could cry. “Holy moly, I missed you so much.”

You giggle, turn your face into the side of his head and drag your nose along his jaw. “I missed you more,” you say, lips hot on his skin.

A shiver runs down Peter’s spine. He’s only had you back for a half a minute and you’ve already got him shivering? Typical. “Impossible,” he tell you. He runs his hands down your back and up again as if to prove to himself you’re really there.

You laugh and pull back, bouncing on your toes, to look him in the eye. You’re so, so beautiful. Somehow prettier than when he left you, which seemed impossible but apparently isn’t, not for you.

You reach up and push a lock of hair from his eyes. Peter’s hypnotised. He doesn’t get how one girl can be so achingly lovely, so pretty and so sweet, but you manage it. He slides his hands down to your waist, feeling like he might explode if he doesn’t touch every inch of you. It’s then that he recognises the familiar fabric of your shirt. He looks down.

“Hey, is that my shirt?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. He nudges you backwards with his hips to get a better look. It is his shirt. His favourite one, which he didn’t pack for his trip because it suspiciously went missing the day before he left. “It is!” He exclaims, pinching at your side. “You had it this whole time?”

You giggle at his prodding, and try twisting yourself out of the way. Peter keeps a firm grip on you, hand spread over your ribs, his glare full of accusatory heat.

“I’m sorry!” You say, giggling like an idiot when he pinches you some more. “I missed you, okay? Is that such a crime?”

Peter makes a face at you but his heart’s soaring. “Well, if you count theft as crime then yeah, I would say so.”

You huff. “You’re so dramatic!”

“I’m dramatic?” Peter feigns offence, pulling his head back incredulously. “You’re the one who stole my—!”

Your lips land on his before he can finish his sentence. His words are lost to your mouth. You push up into the kiss, fervent and hot. Your fingers curl into his collar and brush over the column of his throat, and Peter forgets everything else. He kisses you back just as hard, one arm hooked around your waist and the other bent between your chests to hold your jaw.

“Never mind,” he says between kisses. “You can keep the shirt, baby.”

You laugh against his mouth.

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ohwowimlonley · 4 months

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peter just coming over to your place to fuck you rough then cuddle w you while he asks about your day lol

Peter loving backshots w you bc of the way reader ass moves lol- idk something tells me he’s an ass man ( especially tasm! Peter )

Double P having you on top and putting you in a bear hug as he thrusts

“Well, if Mr Stevens can’t see that you’re acing this photography, then he really shouldnt be teaching at all,” you’d say, raking your nails through his thick hair. He nudges closer to you, cheek resting against your breasts as he tracks his right hand lazily over your naked body.

“I know, I know, just wish I could get a passing grade for once,” he laments, fingers eventually dropping in between your legs, sliding through the wetness of both our your releases.

“God, baby, fuckin’ look at it,” it’s a whine, or Peter’s closest approximation to it. He takes your asscheeks in both his hands, pulling them apart, pushing them back together, squeezing, slapping, digging his nails in, “gonna fuck it one day, you won’t be able to walk for a week,”

“Ahh,” you sob, arching your back as he shocks you with the harshest spank yet. You’re sure your ass is red raw by now, but it doesn’t stop Peter from pulling your cheeks apart again and landing a fat glob of spit directly onto your unused hole.

“Right there- Peter!” It’s almost a scream, but it’s really not your fault because Peter has his arms wrapped firmly around your back, fingers stretching to the space in between your shoulder blades and using it as leverage to fuck up into you at the perfect angle, right into that soft spongy spot deep inside you that makes you dribble onto his shoulder, “oh, God!”

“Shh, sweetness, it’s okay,” he murmurs into your hair, smirking as you cry out when his pubic hair graze against your engoreged clit, “I’m right here,”

#•megs ask box•#•megs smutty daydreams•#tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x y/n #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #avengers fanfiction

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bxcketbarnes · 2 years

Text

Moving to a New Universe

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2900+

I really love this fic. I had gotten the idea for it after watching the more fun stuff version of No Way Home. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. And always, let me know what you think! xox

You rub your fingers against your forehead while staring at the essays in front of you. It seems like none of your students understood the assignment you've given them. You tuck some hair behind your ear before standing up from your seat.

"I need a small break," you sigh and glance down at your watch. 8:49 pm. "God, it's getting late too."

The sounds of people talking captures your attention, causing you to look behind you. Light emits from one of the classrooms and you furrow your brows. There shouldn't be anyone else here. You think to yourself while walking towards the room.

You poke your head into the science classroom and your eyes widen at the scene in front of you. "Two Spider-Man's?" You whisper to yourself, your gaze moving from the Spider-Man you know to the taller gentleman with the lab coat.

"It's not nice to eavesdrop," a voice whispers to you. You jump in your spot, almost hitting your head against the door frame.

"Shit!" You exclaim and take a couple of steps back. MJ Watson stands in front of you with her arms crossed. "S-Sorry, I didn't realize people would be here."

She chuckles and waves her hand at you. "It's fine. We actually didn't expect someone to be here," MJ tells you while tucking her hair back.

"I, uhm, I'll just leave you guys be," you mutter and jab your thumb towards the classroom you work in.

"You can come in if you're interested," MJ insists, motioning for you to follow her.

Your cheeks flush a bit and you shake your head. "Oh, I don't want to intrude," you mutter and poke your head back into the room.

"Oh come on! You're an English teacher, right?" MJ states as the Spider-Man you know makes his way towards her.

"MJ, we shouldn't be-"

She hushes the teenager and returns her gaze to you. You swallow thickly and decide to take her up on the offer. You step further into the classroom, gaining the attention of the two older men.

"Who's this?" The oldest one asks, pointing his gloved hand towards you.

"I'm Y/N. I'm an English teacher here," you introduce yourself with an awkward wave. "I just have one question."

Your gaze moves to the brunette with the lab coat, and your heart flutters in your chest at how attractive he is. You can't help but feel a bit shy under his gaze.

"Uhm, a-are you Spider-Man?" You ask him, and he looks down at his suit under the lab coat. "It sounds like a dumb question but-"

Thwip. You jump at the light sound and notice your hands are webbed together. Your jaw drops and a laugh escapes your lips. "Does that answer your question?" He asks with a teasing smile.

"You know- yes," you chuckle and walk closer to him, holding out your hands, "could you take this off me now?"

He laughs and nods his head. The rest of the group goes back to what they were doing as the cute brunette pulls the webs off of your hands. "I'm Peter Parker," he introduces himself, and your eyes widen.

"You're also named Peter?" You ask in disbelief, turning your head to look at the Peter you've known.

The younger man nods his head before pointing towards the eldest. "That's also Peter Parker. We're all Spider-Man," he clarifies and your jaw drops.

"What?! H-How?!" You gasp, looking between the three of them.

"Multiverse," tall Peter points out, causing you to look up at him.

You repeat the word to yourself and furrow your brows in confusion. "So," you mumble, looking from tall Peter to older Peter, "you two aren't from this universe?"

Both men shake their heads. Holy shit. This is crazy. Older Peter and young Peter go back to what they were doing, leaving you to your thoughts.

"Don't think too hard about it," tall Peter's voice whispers into your ear, a chuckle following after.

You look up at the man in front of you, a smile coming to your lips as soon as you notice his. He brings his hand to your forehead before rubbing the crease between your eyebrows.

"You're gonna make me blush," you whisper to him, feeling your skin tingle.

"That's okay," he smiles and glides his fingers along the side of your face.

Your cheeks blush under his grazing and you lower your head. Peter's fingers fall from your cheek before he clears his throat. Don't fall for him. He's not even from your universe. You think to yourself while lifting your head back up.

"Well, it was nice to meet both of you guys. I should get back to my classroom," you give them a tight-lipped smile, starting to walk towards the door.

"I'll walk you back," tall Peter offers, quickly catching up to you.

Before both of you leave the room, younger Peter calls out to him. "Hey, did you finish your thing?" He asks the brunette, his eyes dancing from you to him.

"Yeah, it's all ready. I won't be too long," he reassures the kid with a smile, his hand resting on your lower back.

The two of you walk down the hallway in silence. Your fingers fumble with one another as your eyes shut towards the handsome man beside you.

"You didn't have to walk me back," you mention to him while stopping at your classroom door, motioning towards the empty room. "This is me."

Peter looks into the classroom, shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "I just, uh, wanted a little more time with you," he confesses and smiles at you.

"That's really sweet of you," you whisper to him, bouncing on your heels. You reach forward, wrapping an arm around his neck. "I hope you have a safe trip back home if I don't see you again."

He lets out a huff of breath, his hands sliding along your back. "I kinda wish I didn't have to go," Peter mumbles into your ear.

Your eyes flutter shut after hearing his words, feeling the same way he does. "You seem really cool and I wish I could've gotten to know you better," you whisper, your fingers tightly gripping the white coat.

It's another minute or so until Peter pulls back from you. The two of you smile at each other before he starts walking backward. "It was nice to meet you," he says.

"Yeah, you too."

He provides one last smile before turning away from you, walking back to the classroom he was in before. You gently bite down on your lip, feeling a bit sad that you'll never see him again.

"Peter!" You call out to him, causing the brunette to stop in his tracks.

You quickly jog up to him and lean on your toes, pressing a light kiss on his cheek. Your heart pounds against your chest as you take a step back immediately after.

"Stay safe," you smile at him.

His honey-brown eyes widened, blinking a few times. "I-I will. Get home safely," he mentions with a stutter, noticing his cheeks blush.

You nod your head, giggling softly before turning to walk back to your classroom.

Two Years Later

"Are you okay?" Your friend America asks you, causing you to snap out of your thoughts.

You hum and look around the cute coffee house you're in before meeting her eyes. "Hm? Yeah, I'm fine," you reassure her with a small smile.

"You sure? I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes," she laughs, leaning her chin against the palm of her hand.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumble before releasing a sigh. "It's just- today marks two years since I met this guy."

America furrows her brows, tilting her head in confusion. "A guy? But, you're single?"

A laugh leaves your lips and you nod your head. "No, yeah, I am. Sorry, it's a bit confusing," you tell her while moving your hands a bit. "Two years ago I met a man who belonged to a different universe, and lately… I've been thinking of him more."

"A different universe?!" She exclaims with wide eyes.

"Yeah! Crazy, right?" You chuckle and cast your gaze down at your coffee. "I miss him. He was nice."

Your friend notices the slight sadness in your eyes. "Would you-" she cuts herself off before checking her surroundings, making sure no one is close enough to hear what she's about to say. "Would you like to see him?"

"What?" You ask with a laugh. "I can't see him. I mean, I know they traveled through the multiverse but- t-that's not possible."

"And if I told you that it is possible?" America presses her lips together, her fingers tapping against the table.

The smile falls from your lips and your gaze moves back to the table. "America, if this is some sick joke-"

"It's not. I promise you," she reassures you while resting her hand on top of yours. "I can bring you to him."

Your heart pounds against your chest, the thought of seeing Peter again brings tears to your eyes. "Will you?"

"Of course. Anything for you," America winks at you before sliding out of the booth. You follow the dark-haired girl out of the coffee house, the two of you walking down the street together.

"So, how does it work?" You ask your friend, crossing your arms over your chest.

She turns to walk down an empty alley, checking behind you. "It's simple. Now that I'm actually in control of my powers," she chuckles and grabs a hold of your hand.

This is crazy. You think to yourself while watching her prepare for a wild trip. "Wait, do I… do I look okay?" You ask her, smoothing the shirt you're wearing.

"You look amazing as always," America tells you with a grin.

"Okay," you giggle lightly, tucking some hair behind your ear.

America thrusts her fist forward and a star-shaped portal opens in front of the two of you. Your jaw drops and you take a step forward, looking into it without fully stepping inside.

"I'm kinda jealous," you tell her with a laugh, looking back at her. "This is so cool."

She motions for you to step through and you take a deep breath. You're feeling a bit nervous as you walk through the star-shaped portal. America follows you in before the portal closes.

You fumble with your fingers and the two of you walk towards the street. "At least this New York looks similar," you mention while looking around. "Hey, what do some of the universes look like?"

"Some of them are honestly pretty nuts," America laughs. "There's a New York that's completely green. Just shrubs everywhere!"

"Wow, that's crazy," you mumble. You look around and try to figure out where you'd find Peter. "So, any idea where to start?"

Your friend laughs and she shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not sure. He's your friend," she winks at you.

"Well, I didn't get his number or anything!" You laugh with her, slapping your hands against your thighs.

The sound of police sirens captures your attention, seeing two police vehicles bolting down the streets. "You said he's Spider-Man, right?" America asks you.

"Yeah," you mutter, glancing towards her. "I guess we follow the authorities."

You and America rush down the semi-bare streets of NYC. You glance up every few seconds to see if Peter's swinging around the buildings.

Standing in the middle of Times Square is a man with a gun, pointing it wildly at the cops around. "Stay back!" He yells, shooting off a couple of warning shots.

You breathe heavily as the two of you stay far enough back. It doesn't take long for Spider-Man to show up, your eyes glued to the man dressed in red and blue spandex.

"Hey, man, chill out," Peter's voice reaches your ears, and your breath hitches. It's really him. You subconsciously take a step forward, wanting to be closer to him.

America grabs a hold of your wrist, stopping you from getting in harm's way. You swallow thickly and glance towards your friend, seeing the worried look in her eyes.

The situation de-escalates soon after Peter shows up. You watch the police handcuff the perp before they shove him into the back of the police car.

Before Peter has the chance to swing away, you find yourself running over to him. "Spidey!" You call out to him, and his masked head whips around.

"Y/N?" He says your name in confusion. You throw yourself in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I-How are you here?"

"My friend can travel to different universes," you tell him with a smile, your hands gliding across his shoulders. "I missed you."

Peter circles his arms around your waist, hugging you close to him. "Does she mind if I take you away for a bit?" He asks you, one of his hands gently rubbing your back.

You look towards America and she waves her hand, a knowing look on her face. "I think she'll be alright," you chuckle and Peter shoots out a string of webs before the two of you swing away.

Peter brings you to the top of the Empire State Building. He sets you down as soon as his feet connect with the metal roof. His hand slips from your lower back and swiftly pulls his mask off.

"I can't believe you're here," he breathes out, his honey-brown eyes meeting yours.

You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. "I honestly can't believe I'm here either," you giggle, biting down on your lip.

His hands move to your arms, his gloved fingers gliding along your bare skin. You take a step closer to him, one of your hands resting on top of his.

"When do you have to leave?" Peter asks you, one of his hands moving to caress your cheek.

"I haven't figured that out yet. I don't know the precautions of traveling universes," you laugh, leaning into Peter's touch.

His gloved thumb runs along your bottom lip, causing your breath to hitch. "Is it selfish to ask you to stay here?" He whispers, his gaze meeting yours.

Your heart pounds against your chest and you move your hands to his chest. "Not necessarily, no," you whisper to him.

"Would you… stay here?"

You lean on your toes, connecting your lips with his. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing your chest against his. One of Peter's arms circles your waist as his free hand rests on your head.

The kiss doesn't last for very long. Peter pulls away from you, both of you breathing heavily as he rests his forehead on yours. Butterflies swarm around your stomach and you keep your eyes shut.

"Yes," you tell him, your fingers playing with the hairs on his neck. "I'll stay here."

Peter gasps and takes a step back, not believing his ears. "Wait, really?" He asks, his hands grabbing a hold of yours.

You look up at him through your lashes, a large grin sitting on your lips. "Yes, really. I-I haven't stopped thinking about you these past two years. Now that I've seen you again- I don't want to leave," you explain to him, squeezing his hands gently.

"God, you're incredible," Peter sighs before reconnecting your lips together. You giggle into the kiss, lacing your conjoined hands together. "Stay at my place tonight."

"Okay," you grin.

America:

So, you're going to stay here? Really?

You:

Yeah, really. I like Peter a lot and I don't have much in my universe. It'll be like starting over in a new state.

America:

Okay, well, how about this- I'll come here every two months and check in on you. Just in case you have any regrets.

You:

That's a good plan. I don't believe I'll have regrets, but you never know what the future holds :)

America:

Girl, I'm going to miss you :( Thank God I can travel through universes

You burst out laughing after reading America's text, covering your mouth with your hand. Peter's fingers glide across your stomach, his touch tickling you slightly.

"I never thought I'd wake up to someone laughing," Peter groans, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

You lock your phone before you turn to face him, scooting a little closer to him. "I'm sorry, Peter," you giggle, looking up at him with a smile. "I was texting America about staying here."

"You're actually going to?" He asks with a light gasp, his honey-brown eyes lighting up. You nod your head, the smile on your lips widening. Peter brings his hands to your face and pulls you closer to him, kissing you passionately.

A moan slips past your lips and you bring a hand to the nape of his neck. You kiss him back with just as much passion, your tongues tangling with one another. Peter's free hand slides up your outer thigh, his nails digging into your skin.

"Once you're settled in," he starts, his heavy breaths fanning your lips, "I want to take you out."

"Like on a date?" You bite your lip, your fingers threading through his hair.

"Exactly like a date, honey," the pet name comes from his lips, a lovesick grin coming to his face.

You hum in response, your mind reeling at the thought of going on a date with him. "I can't wait," you whisper, leaning your forehead on his.

Peter wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest. You nuzzle your face into his neck, pressing light kisses to his bare shoulder.

"I can't wait either."

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spidernerdsblog · 1 year

Text

flexible

A/N : another blurb inspired by a prank video. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : you prank your boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts you in during sex.

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : mature content

You were hanging out at Peter’s dorm room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through your social media accounts.

“Hey whatcha doing?” Peter asks, walking into the living room. You look up from your phone.

“Nothing, just watching this tiktok on some special yoga poses. Apparently only women can do these very easily.” It was a lie in the video the girlfriend was pranking her boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts her in during sex.

“That’s rubbish, it just depends on your body’s flexibility.” Peter says.

“You think you’re flexible enough to do these?” a mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow baiting him.

“Babe look who you’re talking to. I’m spiderman, I'm flexible AF.” He states placing his hands on his hips with an air of confidence

Oh this is gonna be fun you thought, putting away your phone and standing up from the couch. “Ok let’s see how flexible you are.”

“Yeah, let's do it!” He says excitedly pumping his fist in the air.

“For the first pose you need to lie down on your back.” You instruct as Peter goes to lie down on the floor.

“Now bring your legs up” you tell him and he follows by lifting his legs up. “Yeah, just like that. Now spread them wide all the way”

“Like this?” He spreads his legs wide.

“Yeah and then grab the back of your thighs and pull up.” Holding by the thighs Peter pulls his legs up to his chest and you bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Do you feel it?” You ask.

“Kinda.” He replies.

God he’s so innocent you thought laughing silently to yourself deciding to carry on with the next position.

“For the next pose, turn on your side and bend your knees.” Peter follows your directions and turns on his left side. “Now lift the top leg up.”

He lifts his right leg up as you hum in approval. “Yeah, as high as you can.”

“Ooh I can feel this!” He tells and you purse your lips to keep the giggle from slipping out of you.

“Good now stand up.”

“This one is a bit rough, it's called the bunny hop. So you gotta squat down to your feet.” You explain as he squats down.

“Yeah great, now jump up and down.” Peter starts to hop on his feet. “No, no your feet should be on the ground just move your hips” he does as told and you swear to god watching him do that sent you on the verge of losing all control and laughing out like a maniac.

You quickly schooled your features and said. “Ok so for the last one get on the couch on your knees. Grab on the backrest.”

Peter gets on the couch kneeling and holds onto the backrest as you lift his left leg.

“Now lift this leg up and stick your ass out.” Just then Harry decides to stroll into the living room.

“Looking great Parker.” He opens the refrigerator to grab a beer bottle. “You guys taking a trip to the wild side? Should have asked me would’ve been happy to help.” He says while opening the bottle. Understanding finally dawned upon Peter as he jumped out of the couch with a mortified expression and you burst out laughing.

“Oh my god Y/N! You’re such an evil.” He cried out as he thought of all the sex positions you made him do.

“You don’t have a problem when you put me in those positions.” You tease both of your faces red yours from laughing too hard, his from embarrassment as he stomped back to his room.

“Always wanted to peg that ass.” Harry says, eyes focused at the open door of Peter’s room.

“Shut up Harry!” Peter yells from his room. Chuckling Harry takes a sip of his beer and saunters off to stand beside you, handing you another bottle.

“Pussy.” He mumbles and turns to you with a sultry look. “The offer still stands, you know. Just like I said before you’re welcome to watch…” he eyes you up and down. “Or join.”

Your lips curl into a smirk as you regard him with narrowed eyes. There have been quite a few times where Harry had openly admitted he’s attracted to both of you suggesting you guys should try doing threesome. “I’ll give it a thought.” You say clinking your bottle to his and take a sip.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield smut #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker x you #harry osborn #spiderman

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luveline · 1 month

Note

Gah, your Peter Parker leaves me sighing in the best way every time! If you feel like it, could you write a little blurb of him melting from fondness when reader gets bashful following him doing/saying something soft? It’s so sweet, seeing two people mutually melt around and because of each other. Even when it’s the smallest thing, it means so much more when it’s from one of YOUR important people.

ty for your request! <3 fem

Fuck, Peter Parker thinks, jogging up the steps to your apartment building, this is the life. It’s a hot day in New York City but there are cold drinks to be had and that electric fan in your bedroom is calling his name. There’s genuinely no better place to be than laying on your sheets in pyjamas you wash with that apple blossom laundry softener he loves, knowing you keep using it ‘cos you love it, and knowing you wash his pyjamas because you love him.

Spidering is going well, he saved a kid today who nearly got crushed by a ten tonner, so he’s feeling pretty good about himself, or at least feeling good about his decisions. He made Aunt May lunch and took it down to the hospital, he flirted gently with the older nurses, and now he’s gunning up the stairs to your apartment, every step a crinkle.

Your door is wide open (awful) but you have good reason —the floors and the countertops shine. The windows are open, and the room is fragrant with your oil diffuser. You’re on your knees by the TV wiping down the table with a damp rag in loose-fitting clothes, sleeves pushed up, brows puckered.

“Hey, baby,” he says.

“Peter, I’m not talking to you today.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know how many pairs of your socks I found when I was cleaning today?”

He grimaces. “Two?”

“Nine pairs of socks, Peter.”

He puts the flowers he’s brought you down on the coffee table and his back on the floor. He’d been hoping to do a grand unveiling of the bouquet to surprise you, but he feels terrible. “I don’t even know how that happens,” he mumbles dejectedly, kneeling down behind you, his arms threading in front of your tummy to give you a backwards squeeze. “They just disappear.”

“They don’t, evidently.”

“I’m really sorry.” He kisses your cheek. “I’m genuinely really sorry. That’s sloppy. I’m not a kid.”

“No, you’re not… I’m not that mad though, you don’t have to sound so serious.”

He holds the place just under your breastbone in his hands. “Oh, you’re not?” He tugs you to his front to stop you from moving prematurely and reaches blindly behind him for the flowers. You laugh as he tips back, taking you with him, the sound vibrating through you and into him. “That’s good. Don’t need these then, do we?”

He twirls the bouquet, pressing it carefully to your chest.

You immediately relax in his arms. He treasures that feeling, your weight leaning against him, your cheek listing down into his arm. You raise a hand, his arm trapped in the crook of your elbow as you examine the lilac petal of a sweetpea. “I love these ones.”

“I know.”

You take more time than anyone else would sifting through the flowers of the bouquet, breath the only evidence of your delight. You breathe out slowly whenever one of the flowers is particularly beautiful, and then you hug the bunch to your nose for a mild sniff.

“Thank you.”

Peter kisses your cheek. He savours the feeling of it, your skin under his lips, being that close to you, his hair on your forehead and your eyebrow tickling him as he hugs you just that little bit closer. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, affection in every word, and a little drop of shyness too, “I was thinking of you, and they looked healthy for once, considering they’re off of the corner by Mandy’s.”

“They’re so pretty,” you mumble, turning into him as much as you can. He lets up his tight hold.

“Like you.”

You brush your forehead against his chin. Peter actually gets goosebumps, letting the flowers fall to the floor by your leg so he can hold you. “I feel bad for caring about the socks now,” you mumble.

He laughs with lips still closed and offers you a soft kiss.

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liz-allyn · 2 years

Note

Hey I’m hoping I could get your help looking for a lost Peter fic

I think it was part one of a series, for Peter Parker (might’ve been tasm Peter Parker) , and reader is the daughter of a crime family who treats her real bad and locks her in the house as their house gets shot up and she calls the police and then escapes and she runs into Peter and her face is all over the news so he recognizes her.

I’ve been kinda racking my brain and my following list looking for it

Any help is appreciated Thank you much!!!

oh my gosh I freaking know what you're talking about but I don't!!! Does anyone else recognize this? Was this on Ao3 exclusively?

#fic search #peter parker x reader #peter parker fics #tasm peter parker fanfiction

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literaila · 6 months

Text

i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.

because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.

it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.

“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”

you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.

you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.

peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.

real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”

“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.

dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.

there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.

so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”

“you can’t sleep here.”

“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”

“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”

“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”

“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”

you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.

“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”

he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.

“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”

“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.

“i know.”

you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.

“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”

you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”

“not to me.”

you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.

“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.

“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”

“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”

“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”

he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.

“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.

“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”

you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”

“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.

“i learned from the best.”

peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.

and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

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