#the amazing spider-man imagine

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Babbling ~ P.P.

A/n: Sorry for missing Monday, but here’s this <3 Another request done :)

Request: “Tasm!Peter x male reader where reader gets invited to a party and brings Peter as his plus one or whatever and Peter getting drunk and touchy and confesses and saying how he wants to be with him and spend the rest of his life with him...” by anon

Word count: 2700+

MASTERLIST

Peter Parker and Y/n had always been a story for the ages.

It hadn't been life long friends, and their meeting hadn't been all that important. They'd had a class together and as both of them engaged with the content and asked questions and did reports and read out loud, their faces became familiar with each other. Then Spider-Man had gotten caught up in a fight and his mask had come off. Y/n had been stunned to see the big brown doe eyes of the cute guy in his AP bio class.

It had been the most anti-climactic thing, truly. Y/n had discovered a sight dedicated to "fangirling over Spider-Man" except that they didn't do much discussion or giving of content. However, when Y/n went through the internet looking for pictures with Spider-Man's face, there was a startling very few available. For how many hungry reporters and shocked civilian or eager tourist was here and with how often Spider-Man lost or destroyed or just straight up took off his mask, there should be more.

When he found that there were images, they were just unavailable, he deep dove it and used his skill witch coding to figure out what happened. And what he uncovered was stunning - the website "dedicated to fangirling over Spiderman" was either a cover, or they believed that the best fans were dedicated to keeping Spider-Man's secret identity a secret. Peter Parker was New York's little secret.

It made Y/n so curious to meet the man. So of course they had to.

Asking for notes or a pencil or complimenting a sweater or giggling at his jokes that he said under his breath turned into lunches together for convenience and then studying together and then suddenly they were friends. Exchanging phone numbers and inside jokes and nicknames.

It was obvious that he was Spider-Man if you knew what you were looking for. His poor excuses and his sudden exists and late entries. Cancelled plans right when Spider-Man was needed, and all for a job that didn't even pay that well.

Peter was fairly good at hiding it. He was a disaster - a mistake waiting to happen - but he had a whole city behind him so it was okay.

It made Y/n fall in love with Spider-Man even more.

And maybe Peter Parker too.

There was something about the boy though. Something darker that he shook off when he had the mask. Something heavy that was easy to miss when you couldn't see his facial expressions. There was a distance when Y/n would jokingly flirt or be physically affectionate. He offered to take Peter to meet his folks once and Peter had seemed... to not like that. He had squirmed and wriggled, desperate to get away. When he came up with an "emergency" and Spider-Man stopped a mugger and got a kite out of tree Y/n knew that he shouldn't bring it up again.

It was obvious that Peter had lost someone, so Y/n tucked away any realizations or feelings and let them stay casual friends. Not best friends, not truly close - always at an arm's length. But friends.

Until, of course, Peter got drunk.

Peter never wanted to go anywhere or do anything. Y/n was pretty sure he was depressed. Which had driven him to try and get Peter out more, to find him hobbies and past times. Peter had come to the parties and gatherings and slam poetries and walks and clubs Y/n had dragged him to, just like tonight, with the understanding that if he needed to leave he could at any moment.

It didn't seem that moment would come tonight.

At some point Peter had put down his phone and walked away after having a few drinks, getting looser and more relaxed. He never went far from Y/n but seemed to have a hard time sitting still or staying in the same place. They paced or walked in circles and that seemed to do the trick. Y/n had noticed the other man put down his phone after checking the time and walked away again, so Y/n had snagged it for safe keeping. He would give it back tomorrow morning.

It took a lot or drinks for Peter to get proper wasted, but it happened. It seemed to be absent minded and on accident. He kept talking and walking, keeping his voice above the music in the room, and Y/n found himself trailing after in a love sick haze. Peter was gorgeous on his own, but the way his face light up and his hair got messier and messier... he was breathtaking when he went on rants, and Y/n was more than pleased to listen.

So he didn't stop Peter from drinking. And to be fair, neither did Peter.

Y/n knew they'd both made a mistake when Peter stopped walking, leaning against a table behind him and sighing. Y/n came closer to check on him and Peter reached out, fingers wrapping around Y/n's waist and face pressing into his shoulder. Y/n's body blossomed with heat and something akin to a buzzing, making him tense but giddy.

He tried to ignore that.

Peter sighed, leaning against Y/n, and the more sober of them gave a little chuckle. "You okay, Pete?"

"You're so comfy," was all Peter had to say. His voice was soft and airy, almost sleepy. But he had no problem mostly keeping himself up, nor did he seem to sway or buckle. He was just... drawn to Y/n. Like a magnet.

Y/n blushed. "Thank you."

Peter stared, for a long time, not saying anything. Y/n got nervous, shifting. The look was full of adoration and warmth. Admiration simmered at the edges, a sappy smile smearing across his face. "Did I ever mention that you look really attractive when you get all..." he tilted his head, searching for a word. "Blushy." He giggled. "Shy? No. Not just shy, but reserved too. Nervous." His face flitted briefly into a scowl, but when he went from trying yo grasp the word in his mind to admiring Y/n again, the smile came back. "I'm glad we met."

Y/n couldn't get the courage to look at him. "So am I." He cleared his throat, melting under that gaze. Under those words. "Perhaps we should get home."

Peter nodded. "I don't want to be here anymore. Let's go somewhere - just us." He took Y/n's hands, taking longer to do so as he traced Y/n's fingers and sighed blissfully at the contact. Like he was relieved after so long wanting it. Like how Y/n did when he felt the touch.

"Yeah. If that's what you really want." Y/n closed his eyes, chastising himself and forcing himself to stay focused. "Tomorrow. Tonight you need sleep." He began walking, keeping an eye on if Peter needed help walking, but he didn't. Not surprising for the same Spider-Man that could balance on a string that seemed thin as hair, or cling to any surface.

Peter whined and Y/n had to hide a smile with his free hand. "Not tomorrow," he begged, tugging on Y/n's hand. It was almost like a child begging for candy in the store, but less dramatic and much mote desperate. The thought of leaving Y/n seemed to genuinely upset him... Y/n didn't know how to feel about that. "I'll go to bed if you spend the night."

Now that was dangerous.

Y/n only hummed in thought, actually considered it. Drunk people were hard to handle and even if he didn't, he would need to lie to Peter to get him home. If the superhero genuinely didn't want to go or decided that messing around with Y/n to prolong their time together it would he near impossible to get ahold of him again...

They got all the way to Peter's door before he spoke again. "Are you staying?"

Y/n gave him a sideways look as he pushed the door open, having snagged Peter's keys from his pocket. He'd thought he's gotten away with it after such a long silence, but it seemed Peter was eternally patient even drunk. He sighed as they moved into the apartment, Peter always snatching Y/n's hand the second they were free. "Why does it matter so much to you that I stay, hm?" He pulled himself away from the drunk man again, closing the door and putting the keys away. Pulling Peter's jacket off and removing his shoes and grabbing a glass of water and Ibuprofen for tomorrow morning, setting it on the table at Peter's bed. It was only when he seemed finished, about to head out again, that Peter caught him.

Holding one of Y/n's hands in each of his, looking deep into his eyes, Peter didn't just seem genuine, he seemed raw. Exposed. "Y/n. I've been punishing myself for so long... always alone. For so long." He closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. "It's suffocating me, the loneliness. And you make it easier to breathe. So... stay. If you want." He swallowed before adding a breathless, "Please."

Y/n's heart was ramming in his chest. "If you need a friend tonight, I can of course stay." He added friend on purpose this time - to remind himself.

That seemed to upset Peter though. "Don't call yourself that. Please, please don't-" he closed his eyes tightly. "I know we're friends. And I'm goad we're friends. But don't remind me we're friends when I want to kiss you so badly. Please."

Y/n's breath caught. "Pete-" He stopped himself. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Drunk words are sober thoughts. That's a popular saying for a reason."

Oh god.

"You- I-" Y/n's face was burning and he was running out of reasons to go. Ways to deny it. Peter was Spider-Man. There's so much Y/n still wasn't supposed to know. They'd been friends for a while now, and they were just getting close. There was still that gap though. That space that Peter kept.

Now he was throwing all of it away.

Peter didn't wait for Y/n to form thoughts. He let go of Y/n's hands, reaching up for his face instead. Peter's face trailed Y/n's jaw. "Can I kiss you? I... I've wanted to kiss you for so long. If you felt the same way. The way your heart is racing, I thought you might."

Y/n's eyes widen. Of course he can hear heartbeats. The world wouldn't be as unfair as it was if he couldn't.

But also, how could be lie now? When Peter knew he was? And maybe it was selfish, and he'd get his heart broken in the morning, but Peter was begging and god if Y/n wasn't just as eager.

"Okay."

There was no hesitation after that. Y/n had expected raging fire, or fireworks, but there was none of that. It was relief, cool to the touch like a breeze on a sweltering day, or a breath after drowning. It was laying in bed after a long, exhausting day or drinking something warm and sitting by the fire after a day of ice and snow.

Y/n did more than just stay over. It happened so fast, each kiss getting more and more desperate until their hands were wandering and they were falling back onto the bed and Peter didn't stutter a single second. He didn't stumble or hesitate. He had seemed to drink so much but all his words came easily, any slur he'd had before completely gone. He seemed sober.

Y/n was an idiot.

He tried to leave, but Peter had gripped onto his arm and begged him to stay. So Y/n woke up next to him in the morning, slipping out of bed and wandering into the living room.

Okay so that had just happened.

He felt like a villain. He felt like a moron. Peter had been drunk. FUCK he was a horrible person.

Out of part guilt and part anxiety, Y/n tidied the living room and kitchen before beginning to make breakfast. He couldn't in good will just leave Peter alone that morning, but he also couldn't stay in that bed. See Peter panic when he woke up and realized what had happened.

Would he panic? Would he be angry?

He would be justified to feel angry.

Y/n jumped when a set of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, a face burying into his shoulder. "Smells good," came Peter's muffled voice.

Y/n wordlessly finished the food, plating it and turning off the stove before turning to Peter. The brunette seemed weirdly unphased, taking each thing and making two plates, then wandering into the living room to set them down on the clean table, plopping onto the couch. He smiled. "And you clean? I'm spoiled."

Y/n crossed his arms over his chest, a little confused and a little annoyed. "Peter. We need to talk about last night."

The smile faded off of his face and it happened so easily that Y/n was stunned to realize it had been more fake than he'd realized. "I'm sorry."

That came as a shock too. "You're sorry? You? Peter, I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at that, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "I'm the one who was pushing you into-" He looked away. "You obviously regret it, and it was stupid, and I'm sorry I just-"

Y/n scoffed. "Peter, you were drunk. You were more honest than you usually are. That isn't a bad thing. But you were drunk, and I wasn't, and I completely took advantage of you and-"

Peter tilted his head. "I wasn't drunk."

Y/n froze. "What?"

Peter blushed. "Well- I was drunk at first." He looked away, fiddling with a couch pillow. "But by the time we got here I was pretty much sober. I have some what of a healing factor, so-"

Y/n's eyes widened. "You have a what?"

Peter looked back, his expression dripping with amusement. "Y/n, I'm not good at keeping secrets, and you're not good at it either. My mask is hanging up on the hook by the door and you hung up my keys next to it and didn't even blink."

Y/n's head whipped around and - sure enough - there was the mask.

Damnit.

He looked back sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... just..."

Peter laughed, standing from the couch. "It's okay. I... appreciate it, honestly. Most people demand explanations or details or ask an overwhelming questions. When I realize you knew?" He shook his head. "How long have you known?"

Y/n pursed his lip, shrugging. A... while."

Peter snorted. "Since the beginning then."

Y/n winced. "Not the very beginning."

Peter laughed again, this time closing the distance between them. "I don't know what you were beating yourself up for but I hope you realize that you don't have to. I was drunk, and that made me much more affectionate than I usually am... but, it was the affection itself that drove me insane.  It was likeI'd been starving." He shrugged. "I probably was. But kissing you..." He smiled sweetly.

Y/n blushed. It was quiet for a moment before he asked, “So you’re glad last night happened?”

Peter grinned. “Yes. I am.” He shuffled, as if he wanted to ask something but felt too silly to do so.

“I’m glad it happened too,” Y/n eased. Peter melted in relief, his expression blooming with adoration - so close to the way he had looked at Y/n last night. Y/n took his hand, tracing the bones and veins. “Do you… want to be my boyfriend?” He cringed - it felt so silly to ask. Like he was in middle school all over again.

A chuckle came from Peter, but his answer didn’t follow in the form of words. Instead he reached over, catching Y/n’s chin and leaning into a kiss. They sighed blissfully at the same time, and Y/n divided that was answer enough.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#Peter Parker #peter 3 x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman x male reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing Spider-Man imagine #the amazing Spider-Man x reader #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman x male reader #Spiderman imagine #male reader #marvel

[mgparker]

sidelines

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

request | word count: 4k

based on this request: so the reader has a boyfriend but he’s been kinda of a shitty one to her? like he’s an extreme workaholic who often skips their anniversaries and dates, and just takes her for granted all the time. whereas peter is her best friend who has been pining and harboring feelings for her but kept it all to himself (he knows how her bf has been treating her as well) until one day she breaks down in front of him and he comforts her. it’s very angsty and maybe ends with fluff?

warnings: f!reader, not as angsty as i’d hoped so sorry about that, asshole boyfriend, greys references, pining!peter, request, not much fluff, unedited

Fact— Peter Benjamin Parker was in love with his best friend. Completely and utterly whipped. The kind of love that blossomed over the course of a few years; something he thought he’d grow out of but to his luck, it grew in his heart like uncontrollable weeds in a yard.

And it didn’t help that you would literally choose any other person on this planet but him.

Now, Peter couldn’t control that. Of course not. As much as he dreamed that one day you’d suddenly tell him you were absolutely in love with him and had been for years, he knew it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t come from the heart. 

And seeing as it’s been years since Peter realized you were his entire world and you’ve been in other relationships (some of which you’ve solely depended on Peter’s advice of dating them or not—to which he always faked a smile and encouraged), the dream would simply just be that. A dream. 

Nothing more. 

And yes, it hurt like hell. It felt like a knife was being plunged into his stomach every time he saw you with someone else. Like the world was crumbling beneath his feet when you smiled at the phone because you were texting him… Like there was no chance in hell that he’d ever find a way past the heartbreak whenever he saw you and your boyfriend together.

Because this relationship was a little different than the others…

It took a while for Peter to notice it, which was surprising due to his incredible senses. But when he finally did, God did it kill him. 

The fake smiles. The sudden mood changes. The excuses. 

It was like your personality was being slowly drained away and it lit a fire in his bones. A rage that threatened to burst whenever he saw your piece of shit boyfriend. Thankfully, Peter had mastered the mask of nonchalance and innocence whenever you brought Nate around but you weren’t stupid. You knew that Peter knew.

And you couldn’t tell if that filled you with relief or shame. 

For as long as you’ve known each other, you’ve never been the type to settle. You’ve always known your worth, known how to put your foot down and put it down firmly. Certain in what you wanted—no, needed (but that’s not to say you were afraid to ask for what you desired). You were fair, open to compromise, a fairly good listener, and overall a person who cared... 

So you had no idea when your relationship had started tipping the scale, losing its balance until you were stuck with the heaviest side. With all the burden and hard work that should be shared in a healthy relationship. 

And though you tried your best to figure it out, to grasp at the confidence and outspokenness you once had, it was damn near impossible.

So you just settled. You just took it one day at a time because you didn’t want to disappoint him. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself even more than you already have, and you know you shouldn’t feel this way. You know that Peter would never judge you in the way you’re scared of but you couldn’t stand pity. And that’s exactly what you’d get if you ran away now. 

So, you just settled.

“How’s the new promotion going?” 

It’s your two-year anniversary, an occasion you were highly surprised Nate had even remembered. Let alone planned something for it. But here you are—at a high-end restaurant on the waterside of the financial district.

The damn financial district. You had forced a smile when the two of you arrived at the restaurant, trying to hide the fact that you’d already made the decision that you absolutely hated the restaurant. Just because it was in the financial district.

Everything was about the financial district. About finance and his dad’s business and fucking Wall Street. 

“Hm?”

Swallowing your mouthful of pasta, you stared at the table with a sense of detachment. This isn’t anything you’re not used to. “Your promotion?” You cleared your throat. “How’s it going?”

Nate finally looked up from his phone, a spark of interest gleaming in his eye. Normally, that little spark would excite you, get you on the edge of your seat as you grasped for his attention.

But you were beyond over it today.

“The promotion!” Nate smiled in a satisfied way. “It’s good. I think my dad is finally starting to see me for who I truly am. What I’m truly meant to be.”

You smiled sweetly. “And what’s that?” You played the supportive girlfriend part perfectly.

“CEO of New York’s biggest finance company.” Same shit, different day. As if you hadn’t heard that before. Except it isn’t New York’s biggest finance company. In fact, it’s barely a speck in the thousands that are fighting their way for a spot next to the big boys on Wall Street. 

“That’s great,” you lied. “I’m happy for you.”

Fueled from the praise, Nate was suddenly a bit more animated. “So how’s it going with your—um—what’s it called? Your art stuff… the uh—”

“Photography?” You wanted to laugh. How hard was it to remember your passion? It’s not like he’d been calling you his girlfriend for the past two years or anything…

Mouth full, Nate nodded largely. “That.”

He’s not looking at his phone. You realize suddenly as you gave him a skeptical look over the table. He’s actually listening. He’s looking at me and listening! Call the press, this is monumental news—I should probably answer before he picks up the phone again—

“It’s good! You know I actually got an internship with this really big newspaper company. It’s the biggest opportunity I’ve had so far and I’m actually really really excited—”

He’s looking down at his phone again. Not only that but he’s picking up a call—right in the middle of this fancy five-star restaurant he’d claimed was the best of the city. Right in the middle of your passionate spiel. 

Your jaw hung slightly, staring across the table incredulously as the words died on your tongue. Embarrassed tears filled your eyes, your throat tightening in shame as you glanced around at the nearby tables. 

For the most part, everyone was minding their business, actively engaged in conversation with their partners. Until your eyes met the gaze of a young woman who sat at the table to your right. She was in a group, sat next to a man you assumed to be her husband (if the matching rings were any indication) and their hands were interlaced at their sides. 

They seemed to be a little older than you, probably not by much but everything about their language screamed relaxed and comfortable. Secure and healthy. 

Of course, you couldn’t know that for sure but then her husband was suddenly tugging at her hand softly, ripping her gaze away from you and back towards him. The look they shared hit you in the gut, punching you with a severe realization—it was a look you recognized. 

A look that had been given to you many times… but not from the man who sat across from you. Not from the man who was currently laughing on the other end of a seemingly interesting phone call (more interesting than your photography at least).

You observed as the husband whispered something in his wife’s ear, the two giggling quietly as they leaned in closer. It left you speechless, their small interaction holding more love and adoration than anything you’d ever felt toward Nate.

Your appetite was suddenly gone.

It’s even worse when the woman looked over again, as if to check on you. When her eyes found yours again, she gave you a look of—of pity.

One single tear fell down your cheek, your face turning quickly to hide it, but you were sure she’d seen it. 

A shaky hand came up to wipe it swiftly, watching through watery eyes as Nate took a joyous bite of his meal. 

“Oh, you’re right outside?” Nate was saying to the person on the other end of the call. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “Great. I was just finishing up here. Yeah… Okay… Sure—I’ll meet you out there, how’s that? Okay, bye.”

He put his phone down loudly, finishing the last sip of wine in his glass. Then, your boyfriend looked up as if he remembered you were sitting at the table with him… on your two-year anniversary. 

“Right!” He wiped his mouth with a cloth. “This has been swell, but really I invited you here to tell you something.”

You were perplexed. “Okay…”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

It was deadpan. A monotone statement that left you in an instant state of confusion. “What?”

“In all honesty, I shouldn’t have let it go this far. But you know how my dad is. He likes order and breaking up with you would’ve cost me my job. My goals…”

At this point, your jaw had dropped open at his audacity. 

“And I couldn’t have that,” he laughed like it was all one big joke. “Clearly!”

You tried to take a moment to process your feelings—were you sad? Were you upset? Angry?

You should be sad, right? You should be on the verge of tears because your two-year relationship was over, right? 

But all you feel is anger and a burning sense of humiliation. “Clearly, you’ve had your mind set for a while. How long did you fake it?”

“Fake what?” He had this dumb smile on his face, as if he hadn’t spent the last few months pulling you in with meaningless ‘I love you’s and little moments of affection that made you feel guilty for even considering putting yourself first. 

Your nostrils flared. “Everything.”

“Don’t know. Lost count after the first few months,” he shrugged, waving over the server as he dug through his pocket for some cash. 

Motionlessly, you sat in your spot, rethinking every single effort you’d made for your relationship to work. Rethinking every single time you’d lied to your best friend’s face and told him that you were in love with your boyfriend and that everything was alright. That he didn’t need to worry. 

“But I’ve got this banging hot chick waiting outside for me and now that this promotion has secured me a spot on the board, there’s really no reason for me to put up with you anymore.” Nate gave the server a polite smile as he signed the receipt, leaving a generous tip on the table. 

Put up with you anymore? What the hell did he put up with? Your tireless efforts to make him feel loved? All the times you’d make sure the workload wasn’t getting to him? The times you’d fake it just for him because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings?

What the actual fuck had become of you? Nate had destroyed you from the inside out, draining you of everything you had until he got bored of you. 

“Fuck you,” was all you had to say, watching as your ex stood up, screeching his chair noisily until every other table looked your way. 

He looked as if he enjoyed the insult, loved the joys that came with being an absolute asshole. “For what it’s worth,” you could sense it wasn’t going to be worth anything. “The sex was great.”

You were right. 

With that, Nathaniel spun on his heel and sauntered out of the restaurant. 

The tables around you were silent, eyes burning various holes in your figure while you felt a deep pit form in the base of your stomach. Nausea kept you rooted to the spot, afraid that if you moved, your entire meal would land right back on your plate. 

Never in your life had you felt so humiliated, reduced to a good fuck and nothing more. After countless forgotten dates and anniversaries… After countless times you’d stuck your neck out for him. 

And when you finally gathered the strength to stand up from your table, your legs were a bit shaky, overwhelmed from the mortification.

Stumbling onto the sidewalk in the chilly New York streets, your hands fumbled for your phone, dialing a number you’d known by heart since the seventh grade. 

The line rang a few times before a warm voice picked up. “Hello?”

You wanted to sound normal, but the sound of your best friend was enough to break down all your defenses. “Pete?”

On the other end, Peter sat up quickly, heart dropping at the crack in your tone. “Sunshine, what’s wrong?” He practically cooed. 

He could hear rapid footsteps on the other line, little puffs of breath leaving your mouth like you were hastily walking somewhere. “Are—are you home?”

Please, please tell me you’re home, you beg silently. Your throat ached from the sobs you were holding back.

“I am,” he replied instantly, the worry making him sit up and rush toward the window. He was already pulling off his shirt, dressed in his Spider-Man suit underneath the sweats, before you could sniffle a response.  

“Um, I think…” you were stuttering, a million thoughts running through your head. “You were right.”

“About?” You could hear him pull the window open hastily. 

You sniffled. “Nate.”

Halfway out the window, Peter froze, hanging from the side of the building. His breath caught in his lungs. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You answered weakly, finding a nice spot overlooking the Brooklyn bridge and collapsing on a bench. 

Your best friend took a deep breath. “Did he—” his voice cracked in anger. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”

“What?” You spluttered. “No, he—he didn’t—”

“Y/N…” his voice was shaky like yours, though it was from the sudden fury that consumed his nerves at the mere thought of the asshole even touching you at all. 

Just spit it out. “No. No, he didn’t hurt me… I, um, just got dumped.”

It was silent for longer than a minute and you glanced at your phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.  

You continued. “…and—and I want to say that I’m sad. That my heart hurts and all I want is for my relationship to go back to the way it was but… but I can’t say that because it isn’t true.

“I just feel humiliated and drained. And it’s—” a sob escaped you. “It’s the worst feeling ever and you can say—you can say I told you so. It’s fine—”

“—it’s not.”

The phone slipped from your grasp, landing on the bench in a noisy clatter as you jumped at the sudden presence next to yours. 

It was Peter—well not Peter, more like Spider-Man but it was your best friend nevertheless. “It’s not fine. I’m not going to sit here and gloat, because I didn’t want to be right.”

Your lip was caught between your teeth, something that secretly made his gaze linger on your mouth, and you were staring at him with those big doe eyes. Watery and full of a thousand things you wanted to say but wouldn’t. 

“I didn’t want you to be hurt,” he whispered. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, sunshine…”

With that, he crossed the few steps that separated you, joining you in the middle as you stood up. His arms wrapped around your waist protectively as your façade completely dropped, sobs wracking your frame violently. 

He wished he could show you the depth of his love for you. Show you the way you deserve the be treated. Erase the pain that that asshole had caused. 

But how could he put you in harm’s way? Expose you to the many enemies Spider-Man inevitably made? 

It’s out of the question—it always had been and it always will be. 

“I’m sorry,” you were repeating under your breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

A suit-clad hand reached up to stroke your hair back, pulling you tighter into his chest. 

“How…” you sniffled. “How did you know where I was?”

Peter smiled softly. “Senior year, remember? Whenever we need a place to think—”

“—this is our spot,” you finished with a wobbly smile. “Right.”

It was an agreement you’d made years ago when the two of you had been going through a tremendous amount of stress. Between college applications and state assessments, you were both teetering the line between barely staying afloat and a full-on meltdown. 

The week of college acceptances was the worst. Peter found you on this same bench almost every afternoon, sweating from jogging the bridge and nearly in tears as you stared at the water nervously. 

And when freshman year of college rolled around and the two of you had moved in together, it was Peter’s turn to frequent the bench. Reduced to tears over his anxiety about juggling a full-time program in biophysics at an Ivy League and fulfilling his Spider-Man duties in the city.

The bench was a quiet place, marked by countless hugs and silent tears. It was your place.

“I didn’t even realize I came here,” you sighed, letting Peter drag you over to the bench. 

A realization made you stop in your tracks. “You’re in the suit.”

“Right,” Peter grinned sheepishly under the mask. Then, he pulled you close and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Wait—”

It was too late; he’d already taken off before you could brace yourself. Your heart sunk to your feet, a scream catching at the back of your throat as you frantically fought to wrap your arms around his neck.

It was impossible to open your eyes against the rushing wind, eyelids squeezed shut, clueless as to your destination. But you couldn’t find it in you to care, the only thing rushing through your mind was the desire to touch ground already. 

Transportation by web wasn’t a new experience for you. But it didn’t mean you appreciated it anymore now than you did the first time. The views were pretty, sure, but nearly throwing up hundreds of feet over New York wasn’t. 

The end couldn’t have come sooner. As soon as your feet touched solid surface, you snapped your eyes open. A scolding was at the tip of your tongue until you realized where he’d taken you. 

The top of a skyscraper, an important monument if you had to guess. 

Hurriedly, you looked down to survey the surface you were standing on. It was a nice slab of stainless steel, surprisingly sturdy and spacious. Next to you, a spire dwarfed you in size. 

“We’re on the Empire State.”

You looked over at Peter; his mask was gone, hair swiped to the side in a curly mess. He seemed more relaxed than you’d seen him in days, no— months.

He took your silence as a sign to continue. “I’ve been coming here for a while now.” 

“It’s beautiful,” you said, scanning the glittering buildings below. You spotted Madison Square Garden not too far ahead, laughing in amusement at the venue that seemed so big to you whenever you’d visit. Now, it was barely the size of your thumb. 

Peter followed your gaze and gave you his own chuckle. “Tiny, right?”

“This is what you see every night?” You asked in amazement. 

“Yeah. It’s the only place I can really think.”

The crack in his voice made you turn. There’s pain in his eyes, it’s the first time you really see it. The last few months had blinded you to a lot of things, your frustration and self-pity stealing you away from the one person who meant the most to you.

“Pete—”

“You know what I’d think about?” He pursed his lips. “While I was up here?” Something told you where this was going, but you were too afraid to answer.

“I’d think about you.”

Okay… He was absolutely mad at you. He’d been sparing your feelings because he could tell how miserable you were in that relationship but now, the jig was up. You were done and apparently, so was he. The words were tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry—” 

“Wha—why?” Peter chuckled humorlessly. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “I know I haven’t really been there lately.”

It was silent. You hesitantly looked at your best friend to find him already staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“I would think about you,” he repeated pointedly. “For the last two years, I’ve watched you turn yourself into someone, at times, I barely recognized. I’ve watched you shrink yourself slowly until... until...” he never finished and it left you mildly curious, though you weren’t eager to hear an outside perspective of how you’d been played like a guitar string.

“That asshole didn’t deserve you, Y/N. You’re too good, too-too pure, and he didn’t deserve more than a minute of your time...”

You stared at the skyline, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Peter wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, you knew that, but it stung nonetheless because he was right. 

Then, he softly uttered your name. It was filled with an emotion that struck a nerve deep within you. You nearly choked.

“You’re still the same girl I’ve known since high school. The same girl that wouldn’t hesitate to put Flash Thompson in his place—” you rolled your eyes at the reminder of that dickwad. “You’re still the same girl that sees the good in everyone, and you’re still the same stubborn girl who can get villains to stand down from the sheer force of your will...”

He’s talking about Harry Osborn, and it finally draws a laugh out of you. It wasn’t funny a year ago, when the incident nearly got you killed, but it was enough to make you tearfully laugh now.

“Y/N… you’re still the sun.”

The laugh got paralyzed in your throat, choked down by a small sob of relief. The alleviating realization that the most debilitating aspect of your life was finally gone, a parasite that had been reducing you to ashes, shadowing your brightness and sucking every part of you until you were practically a shell of who you used to be.

There were words your best friend never heard, arguments and disputes no one would ever know, parts of yourself that would take more than an hour to steal back from Nate’s vicious clutch, but you were more than relieved to realize that at the other end of it, there was one thing that he could’ve never taken away from you.

Before you could say anything, Peter uttered one last thing. 

“You’re still the same girl that I’ve always loved.”

A swell of emotions attacked your heart, squeezing and squeezing until the only relief was Peter’s arms. You’re glad that he has such fast reflexes or else you’d both be tumbling off the side of the building. 

There could be multiple meanings behind that statement—and there definitely was— but Peter meant it in the way he knew you needed.

A confession wasn’t something you could handle right now, and it wasn’t something Peter could ever see himself admitting while he still worried about your safety, so he made sure you saw the fond edge in his gaze. The years of friendship and devotion that you two shared.

There weren’t words to describe how you felt about Peter Parker, you could barely make sense of it. But holding him close, feeling his hands around your waist and heartbeat against your ear, you were almost certain that the words that rested at the tip of your tongue held a different meaning than what he’d just said to you.

But you keep it in, afraid to shatter this moment and feeling the long road of healing ahead. It could wait.

This embrace was enough.

yes... this is a little bit of a mess but i’m fairly certain i say that about every single thing i write. also, shameless grey’s anatomy reference because that show has my entire heart and soul. anyway, this request is from MONTHS ago. i am so sorry you sweet anon but if anyone would like to read it, here it finally is. 

hope you’re all having a splendid day. x

— elle <3

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm imagine #tasm peter parker imagine #spider-man #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spider-man x reader #the amazing spider-man imagine #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagine #tasm spider-man #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #garfield!spiderman #request #peter parker request #marvel #sony #mgparker #mgparker reqs

[alloftheimaginesblog]

“It’s time,” Peter 3, Peter Parker from a different universe, said, “Strange is about to send us back.” You looked at him and there was a look in his eye, a question that he was too scared to ask or maybe he was too scared of the answer that would follow if he asked it.

You knew the question he wanted to ask. Do you want to come with me? You’d had not even 24 hours with him but my god, in those 24 hours you’d brought life back to the mid twenties Peter Parker. You breathed a new life into him, made him belly laugh for the first time in years and the two of you just clicked but could you really give up your life for a stranger? 

In your life you’d always put other people’s needs in front of your own, always sacrificed your own happiness to suit the needs of others so right now, standing with a superhero from a different universe, you decided that you were going to take a leap of faith and you were going to do something for yourself for a change. Would it work out? Would everything work out the way that you wanted? You didn’t know but my god, you wanted to find out.

You grabbed his hand and nodded, “I’m coming with you.”

His face immediately stretched out into the widest grin you’d ever seen a person have, “You mean it? I-I was going to ask but I was scared to find out-”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling at him, “it’s about time I did something for myself for a change.”

Peter laughed, “Okay, wow,” he breathed out, he hadn’t felt hope burning this strong for years. He looked at you, stepping closer as his thumb grazed your cheek, “Can I kiss you?” He barely got the question out before you were crashing your lips onto his in a passionate kiss. It cut off too short when Peter pulled apart and frantically panted, “Let’s go tell Strange before he sends me back without you. Hold on tight!” With one strong arm, Peter latched around your waist before shooting a web and swinging you both upwards. Yeah, you thought as you hid in his neck, you were ready for your next adventure.

#not my gif #peter 3 #peter parker imagine #peter parker #imagine #tasm imagine #tasm #the amazing spider man #the amazing spider-man imagine #amazing spider man imagine #spider-man imagine #spider-man #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spider man imagine #spider man #andrew!peter #marvel imagine #marvel

[literaila]

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.

*

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

[vivwritesfics]

"I Know"

Peter Parker has the best girlfriend ever

1.1K

Peter Parker x Reader

I've been MIA for the longest time because the inspo just hasn't been there. But I've gotten away from university for a few days, and this is what came from my peaceful time alone

"I'm so sorry, baby," said Peter. He stood on top of a building, watching a bank robbery happening opposite. A bag full of snacks and two pairs of his favourite pyjamas lay discarded beside him, and Peter made a mental note to pick it up later. The wind was biting, but Peter didn’t care. His attention was split evenly between his girlfriend and the bank robbery.

This was not the first time he had flaked on date night, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He and his girlfriend both knew. But Peter Parker had the most understanding girlfriend in the world.

"It's okay, Pete," she said. Peter could picture her now, snuggled up in her bed, waiting to change into a pair of his pyjamas, with her snack basket filled and her laptop loaded up with a Christmas movie. "Go... save the world."

It wasn't quite saving the world, but she made Peter smile. She always made Peter smile. Y/N was the most understanding person in the world. "I'll be at yours as soon as I can. Don't open the chocolate without me."

After that, Peter had no choice but to hang up. The bank robbery had started to wrap up and Peter had to stop them. He put his phone in his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and swung down to the bank. "You guys have ruined my date night."

“What the fuck?” One of the bank robbers dropped his white bag filled with green notes and swung a bat at Peter.

It was cartoon-y, how these robbers were behaving. The white bags, the notes flying all over the place. Their ski masks weren’t masks at all, but unfolded beanies with the eyeholes cut out. “Wait, can I get a picture? My girlfriend is going to love this.”

***

Y/N’s family loved Peter. Somehow, he’d never been late to dinner with her parents. Either criminals decided to take the day off, to let Peter have his dinner, or for once somebody else was cleaning up the city in his stead.

But not tonight.

“I’ll be maybe ten minutes late,” he said as he swung through the city. His suit was discarded, but his tie was still around his neck.

Y/N had her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she put in a pair of earrings. Dinners like these were a big deal to her parents. The whole family dressed up fancy, all of her sibling’s partners were invited and they had at least three courses. “Pete, babe, it’s fine. I’ll cover you.” And, as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed at all.

Peter really had the best girlfriend in the world. “Holy shit, I love you,” he said, only just noticing his tie. But it was too late to remove it now. “Please send me the cover story.”

They said their goodbyes (with Y/N begging him to stay safe) and went to do their things. Peter fought the bad guy, managing to keep his rather expensive tie intact. Y/N finished getting dressed for dinner and went downstairs to greet her parents.

Her siblings and their partners were already downstairs, drinks in their hands.

“There she is!” Called her brother as Y/N stepped into the room. He checked his watch and feigned a frown. “Not like that boyfriend of yours to be late, is it?”

With her hands clasped behind her back, Y/N rocked on her heels. “Actually, Peters gonna be late today,” she said, hoping they weren’t going to ask anymore questions.

“That Parker boy is never late,” her father said, “What’s holding him up?”

Before now, Y/N hadn’t thought of an excuse for Peter. She had just hoped they wouldn’t ask, and then he could’ve come up with his own backstory. (Peter had gotten good at that).

“Uhh…His house… caught fire? And his aunt… is in the hospital… with death?” oh yeah no this was not going well. “Oh! And the tire on his bike popped.”

Yes. That was very believable.

But nobody questioned it as Y/N sat beside her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. “He’ll be here soon.”

Her eyes shifted to the floor, which only made everything more believable. She pulled out her phone and sent Peter the cover story, just seconds before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She shouted, jumping up.

Racing to the front door, Y/N pulled it open to see Peter stood there, still sorting out his suit. “You are so lucky nobody else answered the door,” she said and buttoned up his shirt correctly. “I sent you over the cover story,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Pulling him into the house, Y/N pushed him towards her father. “Hello, Mr L/N! Sorry, I’m late, my tire burst.”

Suddenly, Y/N’s mother came running out of the kitchen. “Peter, my dear!” She shouted and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about May and your house. You can stay here for as long as you need!” She cried, running her fingers through her hair. He looked at Y/N with her brows furrowed. ‘Go with it’, she mimed. “How about we all go and visit May as soon as we’re finished with dinner?”

“Oh! Please, Mrs L/N. That’s not necessary.” Peter pulled away from his girlfriend’s mother and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Can I have a word with you upstairs?” He asked her, and Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up to her bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut Y/N was wrapped around him. “I missed you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Missed me so much you told your family that May was in the hospital?”

“And that your house burnt down,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest. “I know I said I’d cover for you, but I’m not very good at it, Pete.” Her arms snaked around his middle, sitting beneath his blazer.

Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned once he looked at it. “Oh god, what is it?” Asked Y/N, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“Baby, I love you but, I’ve got to go. I swear this’ll-”

“It’s okay, Peter, I know.”

Peter kissed her. It was slow, yet oh so intense. One of those kisses that makes you gasp. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker x reader smut #andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #spider-man #the amazing spider man

[alwaysmoncheri]

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

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

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

<3

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<3

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

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

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

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

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

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter &lt;;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

#the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm #tasm peter parker x reader #andrew g

[luveline]

Can I request just Peter and shy!reader cuddling and stuff after a long day (after r having a long day or after peters spidey stuff whichever) ❤️

thank you for your request! tasm!peter parker x fem!reader, 1k

It feels like Peter's been gone for a long, long time when he finally comes home. Hair whipped every which way from swinging, his cheeks kissed by cold, nose bitten and pink, he drops his keys by the door and sweeps you up into his impossibly strong arms. 

You'd usually laugh at the sudden weightlessness, but his touch summons a lump in your throat, the thrumming feeling of missing him alive and in your hands. You work them around his shoulders. 

"You had a bad day?" he asks. You don't know how he knows, but he does. 

"I just needed to see you," you say, embarrassed by the strength of your feelings. 

Peter walks you backwards and you do laugh, then, the rigidness of your emotion warmed into softness by his arms around you and his easy smile. Peter dunks you down onto your L-shaped couch so you're flat on your back with your legs propped up and isn't shy about laying on top of you, the firm muscle of his thigh slotting between your softer ones, his hands moving to frame your face. 

He holds your cheeks for a second, decides he actually can't deal with the weight of his bag still on his shoulders or the jacket that haphazardly hides his suit and shrugs both off, and then holds your face again. 

"You're warm," he says. 

"You're cold," you say, turning your cheek into his hand, your head smushed up against the couch cushions. 

You close your eyes as he gets comfortable, content to spend long, slow minutes in the sanctuary of his arms, knowing he'll let you stay here however long you need to. You think you could commit to the couch for the remainder of your life and Peter would spend the rest of his days bringing you trinkets and offering to give you sponge baths. It's a preposterous thought based on an absolute truth; Peter would do anything for you. You'd do anything for him. 

You curl your arms around the broad, muscled stretch of his back, fingertips tripping over the wrinkles in his shirt, nose sniffing indulgently at his hair. 

"I needed to see you, too," he says into your neck. He speaks quietly, but not for the sake of any concerns. There's no need for privacy, and no shame in the admission. "Day's perfect now."

It's such a him thing to say. 

After another handful of quiet minutes, Peter works it around so he's the one being weighed down, squeezing between you and the couch armrest and easing you effortlessly onto his chest. You throw a leg over his thigh, curl an arm around his waist. He's not as cold anymore, but you rub his arm in a steadying back and forth until you've made your way to his fingers. They're still pretty cold —you pull his hand to your mouth and blow warm air at his fingertips until they're pink rather than blue.

Peter noses your hairline affectionately. "You're quiet today. More than usual," he says. "Should I be concerned?" 

"No," you murmur, rubbing his knuckles against your forehead for no good reason. It feels nice. After less than half a second, he does it of his own accord. 

Peter pushes your head back gently and starts to kiss you. Your forehead from end to end, the bridge of your nose, the tip. You shiver happily at the feeling and tilt your chin up for a proper kiss, though that happiness quickly melds to embarrassment when he laughs against your lips. I know what you want, his laugh says.

And even though he's right, even though it's obvious, it's raw to be caught wanting. He knows how much you want him in any and all capacity, and that's scary. 

You'd pull away if you thought Peter didn't know how you felt; you trust him completely. He can kiss you sick, for all you care. 

Peter doesn't kiss you for long, resting his forehead against your jaw, hand at the back of your neck to hold you where he wants you.

"Put your head back," he murmurs, faux-thoughtful, "I wanna give you a better kiss." 

"You want to give me a bruise," you murmur back. 

He dips in to kiss your neck softly. "Not true," he says, his bottom lip tickling you as he exhales. 

You lean back and raise your shoulder to push him away. You trust him, you love him, but if he gives you a hickey tonight you won't be able to look at him without a hot flush. You're too tired for anything amorous. 

Peter doesn't hold it against you. If anything, he does the opposite, rubbing your aching shoulders with a big, flat palm, like he's saying sorry. It's unnecessary. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, giving you a short pat between shoulder blades. "Not as much as I love you, though, don't get it twisted." 

"I'm not getting anything twisted." 

"No?" Peter pulls you up his chest and turns his head so you can look at each other comfortably, no craned necks up or down. "Feels like you are. You think you love me more, which is scientifically improbable." 

"I didn't say that." 

"It felt like you said that." 

"I didn't say that." You glare at one another. The glares don't last long. 

You dive in for another hug, Peter tightening his grip around your waist, forearms up your back and locking you in. "This is nice," you say. 

"For you. My arm is dead." 

You giggle and shift further on top of him to alleviate the pressure on his arm. He groans like you're his very worst ailment, but when he kisses your head it's so tender you'd bet money that it left a mark, a physical actualisation of his affection. 

"Better?" he asks. 

You know what he's asking without further explanation. Do you feel better now? 

You nod against his neck, thinking you might just fall asleep in his arms. 

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x you #tasm fic #tasm!peter x reader #the amazing spider man 2 #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine

[writtenbymoonflower]

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm. 

Emotionally, however, you felt confused. 

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth. 

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged. 

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position. 

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry. 

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest. 

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once. 

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder. 

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside. 

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule. 

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately. 

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation. 

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows. 

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him. 

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose. 

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head. 

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth. 

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat. 

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her. 

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion. 

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off. 

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting. 

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?” 

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion. 

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes. 

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart. 

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?” 

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“Okay. I will.” 

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.” 

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm peter parker drabble #peter parker x reader #drabble #hurt/comfort #peter parker hurt/comfort #the amazing spider man

[asterias-record-shop]

♫ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡… TASM!Peter Parker with the bingo prompt ‘himbo’?

alright, so the thing is I feel like peter is really book smart but he is so oblivious otherwise, like if someone flirts with him it goes completely over his head. so reader has been his best friend for years and recently has been trying to drop hints that she likes him, and eventually she gets fed up of him being so oblivious that she just kisses him and he gets all whiney and then they do the devils tango (i am so sorry i’m really awkward when requesting 😭) but could there also be a size and praise kink, as well as an oral fixation? (if you don’t feel comfy pls delete this!!)

i hope u have a good day/night 💕

—𓆩[my beautiful idiot]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

nvm anon honey i couldn't sleep without posting this, i hope you enjoy it!!!

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Best Friend! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Peter have been best friends for what seemed like eternity, and has been in love with you for what seemed like forever, but he’s not going to give up — no matter how much it seems like you don’t like him back. The kid you babysit though that is way too old to be babysat disagrees though, and tries to show him how much you were in love with him too.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - crossover time|| heavily inspired by this interview/edit with Will Poulter (love him so much) || cursing & foul language || mentions of violence || Peter gets hurt || whiny Peter is best Peter || smut warnings include oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, praise, size kink, breeding kink, oral fixation, possessiveness, marking kink, biting, hickies, possibly more?

Miles was a helpless bystander between the two of you. It never worked out, not whenever Peter was too stupidly in love with you he never saw the hints that you dropped.

“Peter, I’m telling you, she’s in love with you!” Miles wanted to strangle the other Spider-Man, very very violently.

“I don’t… I don’t think she is,” Peter mumbles, a pout on his lips as he swirled pasta around his fork, one that you often made because it was his favorite. Was that not hint enough? You knew his favorite fucking pasta! “I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Who’s type?” You walked into the living room, plate in hand full of the cream based pasta you made on the side.

“Yours! Your type!” Miles grins. “Your type.”

“My type?” You hummed, thinking as you tap your chin. “My type… would be smart. Handsome, funny. Nerdy,” you look over at Peter who was still pouting. “Loves pasta.”

Miles slurps up some of the noodles, nodding. “I wonder who that could be!”

“Yeah, I wonder,” Peter mumbles, face falling as he scooped pasta into his mouth. “I wonder.”

“Really? In this room?!” Miles yells, moving his hands to gesture around the apartment. “I wonder?!”

Peter looked around, eyes narrowing. “You like Miles?”

How the fuck could he be so stupid?

“That’s it! I’m done!” Miles stood, looking at you. “He’s hopeless! Completely and utterly hopeless!”

You sigh, standing up too. “I could’ve told you that.”

You go around the couch, taking Peter’s finished plate of food as his face scrunches. “Who’s hopeless?”

“Oh baby,” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. He didn’t think much of it, you did kiss him on the cheek often. “You are. You’re such a himbo.”

“A what? What’s a himbo?”

“It’s like… a beautiful idiot,” you press another kiss to his cheek, pulling back his chestnut hair from his face. “You’re my beautiful idiot.”

He pours as you walk away, Miles shouting out a goodbye as you finish your food and start cleaning up the dishes.

He didn’t want to be your ‘beautiful idiot’ — he wanted to be yours, overall and absolutely, he wanted to tick every box you ever wanted, he wanted to be yours. If he could, he’d want you to mark him as yours for forever and eternity, he just wanted you. He wanted a mark on him that said you owned him, just like you owned his heart for what seemed like forever.

“Peter? Don’t you have to go on patrol?” You yell out, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m going!” He goes into your room because he basically lived with you at this point, grabbing his suit and getting dressed with the door open.

“Peter?” You’re standing at the doorway, arms crossed as he stumbled into his suit, trying his best not to fall on his face. “Miles’ parents invited us over for dinner. I told them yes, you promise not to be late?”

“Yeah, I promise,” he grunted breathlessly as he quickly finished putting on his suit, looking around. “Where’s my mask?”

“Peter,” you say again, more stern this time as you walk over, bending down to pick up something from the ground. He froze when you stood in front of him, fixing his suit before handing him the mask. “Promise me you won’t be late.”

He smiled down at you, wide and his honey brown eyes shining. “I promise. Do I dress nice or casual?”

“Nicer than casual,” you say with a sigh, your hands rubbing against his chest to flatten out the suit, thinking about the fact he wore nothing underneath it. “I’m going to go over there early to help Rio cook, but I need you there by seven. Did you hear that? By seven. Dinner starts at seven-thirty, but I need you there by seven.”

He smiled, leaning down teasingly. “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say, I’ll be there by seven.”

You sigh, a smile on your face as you pat his chest. “Be safe, and take care of Miles if he tags along, okay?”

“I will.”

You both stay there for a few seconds, his eyes staring at your lips as you worriedly push your hands through his hair. You did it often, so much so that it became something you didn’t have to think about doing, or it was something you did when you were nervous.

What you both did were couple things, why weren’t you together? It was because Peter was too much of a beautiful idiot to know otherwise.

“Promise me you’ll be safe, and protect Miles if he goes. Don’t eat on your patrol, Rio is making the best food ever. And you have to be there by seven.”

“I promise,” he pushed your hair back behind your ear, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“By seven!” You yell as he jumps out the window, sighing with a smile. “I swear, if you weren’t hot I would’ve stopped trying by now.”

It was seven-ten. Seven-fucking-ten. You helped Rio make arroz con gandules while she took care of the main course - chicken con sofrito - and she had also tasked you in making a grilled salsa. You were smashing it inside of the molcajete, the grinding and the scratching making Miles and his father wince.

“Y/N, honey do you want me to uhm… take over… that?” Jefferson asks as he comes closer to you.

“Nope,” you say as Rio dipped her fingers into the salsa and coughing. “Oh no, is it bad?”

“N-No,” she cleared her throat, coughing. “Just spicy, very spicy. Are you mad, honey?”

“You have no fucking clue,” you basically growled as Miles and Jefferson slowly stepped back.

“You have any clue where this kid is?” Jefferson whispers to Miles, looking over. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat that salsa.”

“I-I’ll find him,” Miles says, nodding. “Just… distract them.”

First, he checked your apartment. He looked around, searching for anything that would show Peter was home, and when he found nothing — it was to the streets he went. He changed quickly, already swinging out the window to find the beautiful idiot. It didn’t take him long, quickly going to their favorite spot and finding him lounging, snoring extremely loudly.

“Peter! Peter, what the hell are you doing?!” Miles slapped Peter through the mask, gasping when he saw the gashes and lacerations all over his body. “Holy shit, Peter!”

He snapped up, gasping as he looked around. “What time is it?”

“Like seven-thirty already dude!” He quickly looks around. “What happened?!”

“I was helping a bank robbery, got dammit, Y/N is going to kill me!” He tries to stand, groaning loudly as he holds his side.

“Stop moving! Stop! Y/N taught me how to stitch people up, just lay down!” Miles ordered the older Spider-Man, forcing him to lay back as he grabbed the medical supplies.

“There’s no point, they’ll heal soon enough, I need to get home. Y/N is going to kill me!” He quickly stood, the gashes already getting smaller and less deep. “Let’s go!”

Miles groans. “Am I the babysitter or you?!”

He swung after him, Peter quickly swinging into your room and looking through the dresser that held his clothes. “Oh, come on! Y/N moved my clothes around.”

“Y/N does your laundry?” Miles asks, groaning. “Do you not how in love with you she is?!”

“We switch on laundry duty! It was her weekend so I cooked,” he grabbed a button down, groaning. “Thank fuck she washed my favorite.”

He grabs some new underwear from the drawer, smiles face palming as he rushes to the restroom to get changed. “You're going to bleed through that!”

“No I’m not!” He yelled back, walking out in his new clothes. “I covered the stuff with gauzes.”

“Okay, go upstairs, I’m going to swing up to my room and change, alright?”

He nodded. “Right.”

They both went to Miles’ apartment in different ways, Peter knocking on the door and when it swung open, he smiled at you. You gasped when you saw his gashed face, quickly reaching up. “What happened?!”

“Bank robbery, I passed out on top of a building. So sorry I’m late.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands settling on your waist. “Dinner going well?”

“I-I made a salsa, are you okay?” Your hands quickly cup his face, twisting and turning as you sigh. “Rio’s going to freak! God fuck, Peter!”

He laughed. “You have no reason to worry, honey. I’ll just say I… ran into a tree.”

“A tree?!”

“Look at that! Peter’s here!” Miles yelled, running forward. “Let’s eat!”

When everyone sat down at the dinner table, it was obvious something was a little off. “I uhm… how is work, Y/N?”

You clear your throat, nodding at Rio’s question. “It’s going really well! I’m really happy there.”

“Peter, you moved in with Y/N already?” Jefferson asked, scooping food into his mouth. “It’s about time.”

“What do you mean?” Peter paused his actions of stuffing his face, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Well… you both are dating, right?” Rio asked, looking over at Miles. “Mijo always told us you were…”

“No, we’re not,” you say, a sad smile on your face. “But Peter does basically live with me! He does my laundry, cooks, you know, normal stuff.”

“Normal… couple stuff,” Rio filled in. “You pay rent too?”

“I-I tried, but Y/N didn’t let me,” Peter says softly, shrugging. “She said that she didn’t need my help with it.”

It goes quiet for a minute before Miles laughs awkwardly. “Hey, guys! I passed my biology test!”

You smiled when Miles saved you both from the awkward moment, cheering as everyone continued to talk about how they knew Miles was going to pass. Peter wasn’t that into the conversation, he was extremely preoccupied.

You both did do a lot of couple stuff.

For fucks sake, you both even slept with each other. Why weren’t you both dating, why?

When dinner was done and a few drinks were put in after Rio forced Miles to go to bed, you both went back up to your shared apartment. You giggled as you opened the door, smiling back at him. “Do you want to watch a movie or go straight to sleep, what do you want to do?”

“Can I talk to you, Y/N?” He slowly takes your hand, pulling you toward your room.

You giggled, shrugging. “Well, straight to sleep it is then.”

He sat on the bed, parting his legs and pulling you between them making you giggle. “Everything okay?” You whisper, pushing his hair back as you leaned down to press your forehead to his. “I know something’s not. What’s up?”

“Why did you say we’re not dating?” He pouts up at you, a giggle falling from your lips. “Hey, it’s not funny! We… we do things that couples do, why aren’t we a couple? I know… I know you might not-”

“For fucks sake Peter, shut up.”

He gasped as you pulled his face up, your lips pressing to his as your nails softly press into his skin, soft but firm all at once. He groaned loudly, his hands pulling you closer before you pulled away, a whine falling from his lips. “What’re you doing?”

His words were almost slurred together even though the alcohol he drank had little to no effect on him. It makes you laugh as he leaned up, pressing more kisses to your lips before he pulled your body solidly against his own, fixing your position so that you sat on his lap and your hands were around his neck. “What baby, you don’t want me to stop kissing you?”

He hummed, shaking his head. “No, you can’t… ‘s unfair.”

You started to laugh even harder as he basically whined, trying to pull you down for more kisses. You hummed as he started to lay back, hands pushing through his hair. “I need you… I need you, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, rolling your hips into his. “Need? Need’s a big word, baby,” you respond, smiling down at him as he groaned into your neck. He shifts you both so that you were laying on your back, leaning down to keep kissing your lips.

He was addicted, now that he had one taste, he never wanted to stop. His tongue pushed into your mouth, desperately swirling his own around yours as you groaned into his mouth, the minute he pulled away was when you swallowed the mixed saliva gathered at the back of your throat. You hummed as he leaned down, his lips pressing to your for a quick kiss, going over and over again with small breaks in between.

“Peter,” you giggled, his mere hum the only proof he was listening. “Are you just going to kiss me or are you going to get a little adventurous?”

He pauses, tilting his head. “Adventurous?”

You laughed. “Fuck, my beautiful idiot,” you pulled him down for another kiss, your teeth grazing his deliciously making him groan before you pulled away. “You can put that mouth to better use somewhere else.”

He paused, his mind taking a minute to process. “Oh. Oh, yeah!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly pressed one last kiss to your lips before letting his lips slowly, slowly trail down your body while slipping off your clothes, his nimble fingers leaving a trail of fire on your now bare body. He paused as he stared down at you, his eyes dark and pupils blown as he inhaled.

“So fucking beautiful.”

His words make you groan, hands pushing your thighs apart as his head slowly pushes between them, his mouth already hot on your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, his tongue already exploring your wetness and his fingers pushing into your slit, smearing all of it up and down before settling it on your clit.

He wasted no time, groaning as your hands thread through his hair, holding onto his brown curls like the were handles and your thighs settling on his shoulders. He paused though, pulling away making you whine softly, head tilted again. “This is okay, right? I should’ve asked.”

Fuck, why was he so fucking adorable? “Yes honey, this is okay. More than okay.”

He smiled widely, biting his lip. “Good, because your cunt tastes even better than your mouth.”

You gasped as he pushed his face between your legs again, his lips latching on your clit as he pushed a finger inside of you. Your back arches, eyes widening before they roll back into your head, his finger pushing and pumping trying to find the right rhythm, teasing you. He gasps as you tug on his hair, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he groans against your clit, the vibrations making you shiver.

“F-Fuck, Peter.”

He hummed, enjoying the feeling of your cunt clamping down on his finger, curling it inside of you to feel your body writhe underneath his touch. His eyes roll back as a shiver runs down his back, groaning into your clit that he never let his mouth off of for too long, only shifting his head to get into a new angle. You tasted so fucking good, your swollen clit evidence of his torment, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t describe, he could feel you, all of you.

He could feel every clench of your walls, every shiver that ran up your back. He could hear every stutter of your breath, the skip of your heartbeat, every soft whimper you tried to hide as that one finger continues to find every pleasure spot that not even you knew existed. He could taste you with every lick, every suck of his mouth, his teeth even grazing your sensitive skin if he got too focused.

He finally pulls away from your clit, a thick string of saliva attaching your swollen bud of muscles to his lips, your hips bucking as he stares at your greedy cunt trying to suck his fingers back in every time he pulls out. He groans loudly as the shiver running down his back gets stronger, and the twisting of your stomach turns tight, your thighs shaking as your hips rut into his fingers until his mouth joins the actions of sucking on your entrance as another finger attempts to push into your pussy.

You gasped as your hips bucked without warning, your spongy walls enveloping both of his digits, and your mind blurring from how hard the orgasm hits you. Peter doesn’t even stop though, groans falling from his lips as he pulls out his fingers making you whine, your attempts to ride your hips into them failing. His tongue pushes into you though, a gasp leaving your lips as you automatically tighten your thighs around his head, not that he was complaining.

He could be like this for hours, his tongue pushing into you as his thumb rubbed circles into your overly-sensitive and swollen clit, hard but focused and his fingers pushed back into you. His tongue never stopped moving though, flicking and lapping, his mouth sucking and popping sensually against your pussy, groans that sent vibrations from your pussy straight to the growing knot in your stomach making you whine.

You had just cum, but it wasn’t like he had probably even cared about what it would do to your body, how sensitive it would make your body to every movement he made. His mouth sucked on the opening of your cunt, opening his mouth wide to push his tongue into you as your hips buck into his mouth. Your fingers tug on his hair, whimpering as he rolled your clit between his thumb and pointer with his other hand, his tongue thrusting into you as far as he could, an ache forming in his jaw as he tried to get his mouth anywhere and everywhere on your body.

He could feel the sparking along his spine again, your stomach clenching all over again as his fingers rubbed against that sensitive spot inside of you. His fingers twist, curling inside of you as he tries to push another finger into you, the stretch making you scream out as a shiver runs down his spine, a shaky groan leaving his lips as he swallows everything leaking out of your cunt.

He wanted more. He wanted to taste everything coming from your cunt, everything you had, just everything. He didn’t want to stop, his third digit pushing into you and the squelching filled his ears, his breathing heavy and panting into your cunt. His thumb continues its torment on your clit, rubbing and the shocks running through your body as your thighs shake and fingers shakily scratch against his scalp.

Your body was coated in sweat, stomach tight as his fingers edged you onto the climax of another orgasm, they always came quick after the first. Your body was sensitive all from him, your nipples hard and pebbled from the cold air of your room, bottom lip bitten raw from trying to hold back your moans before he squeezed at your clit - the only thing he needed to do to get you to start moaning out for him.

He loved the sounds you made, getting drunk off of your moans and whines combined with the taste of your arousal and your cunt making his dick hard and his senses overflow. He pushed his three fingers into you as deep as he could, all the way to his knuckles to watch your cunt convulse and feel those same sparks on his spine.

“Peter! Peter wait, Peter- fuck!”

Your third orgasm brought you to tears, vision going black as you squeezed your thighs together, hands gripping his chestnut curls as you tried to steady your breathing. He hummed into your cunt, softly patting your clit making you yelp in surprise, parting your legs to watch as he slowly pulled away. “Are you alright?”

You stared at him, almost dumbfounded. “Y-You… you just ate me out and made me cum three times and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

His brows furrowed as he leaned up, wiping his mouth before licking the back of his hand where all your juices went and kissing under your eyes. He was careful not to get too close to your actual eyes, just in case, only kissing where tears fell. “You’re crying. I don’t like it when you cry.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck after he slowly pulled off his shirt and tugged his pants down to his ankles before kicking them off. “I’m crying out of pleasure. You make me feel so good, Peter.”

He smiled widely down at you, leaning lower to press another kiss to your lips. “Well, I want to make you feel better. Especially with how good you’re making me feel, princess, you make me feel so good. Make me so happy.”

“W-Wait!” Your voice was loud, surprising him as he stared up at you in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I… I want to ride you. Please?”

He pauses, but nods with a smile. “Alright. But you can’t be gentle. Don’t be gentle. I want it all.”

You nodded, laughing loudly as he twisted you both over, helping you steady yourself over his aching cock. It was long, thick and veiny, tip red and leaking precum in desperation as he whined, bucking his hips. You giggled, slowly wrapping your hand around his before he nodded and watched as you slowly sunk down.

You gasped, nodding as he slowly pushed into you, his head tilting back and his mouth falling open. Your eyes rolled back into your head, vision blurring as his girth stretched you out even more, every time you thought he bottomed out the more he kept pushing. You whined loudly, hands pushing against his chest as he groaned loudly, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath.

His body was sheening with sweat, a smile blooming on his face as you dug your nails into his chest, scratching against his skin as you tried to compose himself. This is what he wanted when he wanted you to claim him, he wanted your nails to scratch on his body, your mouth to leave hickies and bite marks, he wanted to be yours.

He watched as you slowly started to bounce on his cock, his eyes staring at your bouncing tits before letting them wander down your body, staring at the bulge on your lower stomach. He hissed loudly as you got harder, fixing your position as your clit rubbed against his pelvis, eyes rolling back.

Your cunt felt just as good wrapped around his cock as it did wrapped around his tongue and fingers, every movement had it squelching and convulsing around his shaft, loud groans falling from his lips as his large hands settled on your hips, thumbs settling on that giant bulge on your stomach.

He watched your mouth fall open as you screamed out, fixing both of your positions to buck his hips up into you and watch your boys fall forward. He kept your body against his, flipping you both over to wrap his arm around your body and press his face into your neck, groaning loudly into your skin as your nails dragged against his back.

He thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to find his climax as your body bounced with this thrusts, loud moans leaving your lips with each thrust and his name falling from your lips over and over. “Yes baby, you’re doing so good. Your cunt is so fucking good baby, I love the way you feel around my dick,” he groans, gasping as your mouth pressed to his skin. “Fuck, fuck yes princess, I want to be covered in you. Want your hickies and your kisses, your scratches and your bites, I don’t care, I want to be covered in you.”

You obviously didn’t expect him to be so into marking, but of course, you weren’t going to say no. You sucked bright purple marks on his skin, digging your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams as the bed slammed into the wall, the squelching of your cunt and the slaps of skin against skin echoing against the wall was enough chorus of your sex.

You could feel his dick driving into the deepest parts of you, stretching your cunt so that if you looked down you could see the bulge that just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers rubbed against your clit, whispers of praise falling from his tongue as those same sparks ran up his spine, his stupid little mind finally connecting the dots. “Are you about to cum? Are you about to cum baby?”

You nodded your head into his marked up neck, your tongue slowly licking against the bite mark on his neck as you whined into his neck. “Fuck, fuck Peter! Fuck, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes you can baby, you can,” he whispers, pulling away to hold your chin. “Look at me fucking you baby, don’t you want me to keep fucking you? I’ll make you feel better than you make me feel, I’ll fuck you so good. I’ll pump all my cum inside of you and you’ll be such a perfect girl for me and take all of it, right?”

Your eyes rolled back, mouth lulling open as you nodded mindlessly. “Yes! Yes, I will, I’ll take all of it!”

“Fuck, fuck Y/N, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to cum inside of you, fill you up and watch all of my cum make your stomach bulge,” his voice gets huskier, almost like a growl as his thrusts get rougher, messier. “Fucking hell!”

You screamed this time, watching as he completely pulled out of you just to slam back in, your mind blurring as he continued to pull out and slam back in. You could feel your thighs shaking, that knot in your stomach threatening to break. “Peter, Peter! I’m going to cum, I need to cum!”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head as he started to get faster, his hips rough as his hands held your sides, eyes rolling back. “I’m gonna cum, cum with me. Please honey, I want to feel you, I need it.”

A final scream falls from your lips as he bottoms out, eyes rolling back and body shaking as your fourth orgasm absolutely blurred your mind, endless babbles leaving your lips as he panted above you. He stared down at your stomach, the bulge that shouldn’t have been able to get bigger successfully larger. “Fuck honey, look at what I did to your pretty tummy.”

You did, your mind still slightly hazy, but your mouth fell open when you saw the bulge and a whine fell from your lips. “Y-You’re still hard.”

He smiled. “It’s from the spider bite.”

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[urrockstar-xe]

i'll be right there, sweetheart - tasm!p.parker x fem!reader

posted nov 4th, 2023 12:50 am

i wrote this with one of my closest friends :D i needed andrew!peter and i needed comfort! i hope u like it as much as we do :)

summary: when reader gets into another argument with her brother, she needs her amazing spiderman to come and save her

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

“Can I come over?” your hushed and choked tone of voice had Peter standing up from the building ledge he had been sitting on, in seconds.

“Stay put, baby I’ll come to you, where are you? At home?” His voice was rushed but you could hear it fine considering the whooshing of the wind was heard in the background,

he was already swinging to your place.

“No, no, Pete, I need to come to yours I don’t want to be home right now, I got into another argument with my brother I just wanna see you, is that okay?”

Peter’s heart nearly stopped at the sound of your choked sob as you spoke, crumbling at just the sound of you crying, he was already worrying about the sight.

“Of course it's okay, sweetheart, I’m gonna come get you though alright? Meet on the roof?”

Through sniffles, you mumbled back a barely coherent “okay” to Peter as you had already started making your way to the roof of your apartment building, sighing at the sight of your spandex-clad boyfriend swinging through the city, still too far from you to hang up. 

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart, just wait for me okay? Hey! Look at that I see you! I mean i think, you’re still a little far” You couldn’t help but giggle at Peter’s words, you could practically hear his smile when you laughed.

“It’s me, Pete” you responded, walking closer to the edge in hopes it would make the wait seem shorter. 

“Yeah, it is, I know m’girl when I see her, I’m right here baby, I’m comin'” his constant reassurance of coming to be there for you had your heart swelling and almost willed more tears to form in your eyes as you hung up the phone when you saw that Peter was only a building away.

And there he was, his mask was tugged off the second his feet landed on the rooftop floor, hair messy and face red from the cold as he pulled you into a tight embrace, “I’m here baby, told you I’d be here” he mumbled into your hair, setting his hand on the back of your head as you sobbed into his shoulder. 

“I’m just so tired of the same fight, Pete” you cried, the words Peter had only ever read through text messages after you had similar situations like this but none to the point where you needed to get out of there. 

“I know, honey, I got you” Peter rubbed your back soothingly, pressing a few sweet kisses to your hairline before squeezing your frame once more. “Freezin' out here, let’s you get back to my place, yeah? May made meatloaf for dinner” you giggled into his shoulder, sniffling as you pulled back to put your arms around his neck and brace yourself to swing through the city. 

“I hate meatloaf” you quietly said into his neck as he gripped your waist properly, 

As he put his mask back on, Peter chuckled, “I know you do, honey” 

Without warning Peter started swinging, it was worse when you had a warning, gave you more time to overthink it and Pete definitely wasn’t risking that tonight of all nights. 

He could hardly feel your grip tighten but you felt his tighten every time he shot a new web until finally, he reached his window

This was the tricky part, getting inside his room with you in his arms, it typically ended in you hitting your head or Peter tripping the second he got inside, but this time he was as careful as he had ever been as if you were fragile, delicate, and at this point in time? you were, not that you’d admit it but you didn’t have to admit it with Peter.

he just knew.

Peter carefully slid the window up, helping you get your feet in and stand up straight before climbing inside himself, once more taking his mask off but it was soon followed by his entire suit as he rushed around his room to put on sweatpants and a hoodie. You just stood there for the most part, other than closing his window so he wouldn’t freeze while he was half-naked and running around for clothes. 

Any other time you’d make yourself at home, settle into his bed, even stroll downstairs, and say hi to May, but again, this time was different, you felt like you couldn’t move, not without Peter’s help anyway.

Peter of course caught onto this quite fast which was why he was so dead set on rushing back to you as fast as possible even if you were both still in the same room, the old Midtown High hoodie was barely over his head before he had swooped you up back into his arms and laid you down on his bed, nearly crushing you with his body weight.

Your hands found his hair in seconds, to anyone else this looks like you’re comforting him, but to you, this is exactly why weighted blankets exist.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly, gently running his fingers up and down your arm. 

“No, thank you” 

Peter took note of the way your voice was still so quiet as if you would burst into tears again if you spoke any louder, “Okay, baby” 

He sat up just enough to see your face in full, ever so careful, he wiped the few remaining tears from your cheeks, along with the dried streaks that had been caused by the cold wind. 

“Did you eat? I can make you somethin?” you just shook your head in response before pulling him back down closer to you, “no? Okay, okay this works too” he mumbled into your shoulder, then he suddenly gasped as if he just remembered something. 

“What happened?” You asked, concern in your voice as he sat up, ignoring your question you watched as Peter quickly untied your Converse and pulled them off of your feet, carelessly tossing them somewhere in his room before he laid beside you, this time pulling you into him, running his fingers across your shoulders and entangling your legs.

Peter was once again thankful for the prototype web shooter he had been too lazy to move from his nightstand as he used it to shut off the light without getting up from the comfort of his bed or your arms. 

You two laid like this in a comforting silence for a few moments, Peter rubbing your back, your hands repetitively moving from his side and to his chest, he kept thinking you’d pull back to say something but you never did.

Not until after a few more minutes and you sighed, getting your boyfriend’s attention once more. 

“What is it, baby?” he whispered, as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment you were sharing. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, sounding unsure, Peter frowned, but he let you continue before commenting. “Thank you for coming to get me” was what you settled on for now.

A billion things ran through your mind, all different ways to show your gratitude for Peter but all that came out was a simple thanks, not that Peter minded. 

“‘M just glad you’re okay” he whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to your head. 

“I just don’t know what I’d do without you” You sighed once more after you spoke, gripping the material of his hoodie. 

Peter smiled, “It’s a damn good thing you don’t have to worry about that then huh?” 

Moving his hand down to your thigh, he moved it completely over his own, bringing you impossibly closer. 

“I’ll always be right there, sweetheart” 

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

[keerysfreckles]

secret - peter parker (tasm)

pairing: tasm!peter x f!reader

summary: peter goes to y/n, his best friends twin sister, to help patch up his wounds.

warnings: use of y/n and she!her pronouns, maybe two swear words, small makeout seshhh

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

y/n wasn't doing anything unusual on her saturday night. she always watched a movie before falling asleep so tonight was no different while high school musical was displayed on the tv in her bedroom.

however the only difference tonight was a knocking sound came from her bedroom window. y/n, now confused, walked towards the sound and opened the curtain. she was most certainly taken aback by the brunette boy crouching on her fire escape.

"peter? what the hell are you doing here?" y/n asks while opening her window. the question having two meanings; why peter was in her room, or why peter was on her fire escape. she's quiet with helping peter threw the small window, not wanting her brother to hear from the room next to hers.

"i'm supposed to hang out with josh, but-" before peter finishes his sentence he lifts his shirt, revealing three giant gashes across his torso. y/n gasps before covering her mouth.

"peter what happened?"

"i uh- tripped?" he simply shrugs it off before sitting at the foot of the bed. he places his backpack down and is quick to zip it up, encasing the red and blue fabric inside.

"just stay here," y/n starts to walk to her bedroom door, "and please dont make any noise."

peter only laughs, at y/n's words and the disney musical playing on her tv. his head turns as y/n walks back inside with a white box. peter guesses it's a first aid kit.

y/n walks around the boy, and sits on his right side. "lay down," y/n instructs. peter obeys, as he lays back on the comforter. his eyes watch the slow moving ceiling fan to distract him from the cold wipes y/n uses to wipe the excess blood off of his skin.

"sorry," y/n whispers, and peter lets out a small response, before grimacing again.

"how did this even happen?" y/n asks, while starting to patch up the open wounds with gauze and medical tape.

peter doesn't respond at first, as he's not entirely sure if he should lie or tell the girl the truth. her own brother doesn't even know about peter's secret.

"pete?" y/n voice is softer than before, and she looked him in the eyes now. she had just finished patching up the third and final wound.

peter sits up slightly and leans on his elbows. "can i tell you something?"

y/n simply nods and watches peter take a deep breath.

"do you ever notice how i disappear a lot whenever i hang out with you and josh?"

y/n nods again.

"it's not because i have catchup homework or i remembered aunt may needed something," peter looked up at y/n, before taking in another breath. "i'm spiderman."

"what?" peter could barely hear y/n's voice, but he could certainly hear the confusion.

peter gets off the bed and hands the girl his backpack. she only looks at him once before unzipping it. a small gasp leaves her lips when she pulls out a red and blue spandex suit.

"so you're really spiderman," y/n looks over the suit.

she looks up at peter who only responds with a dopey half-smile, which only makes her laugh. "how did this even happen?" she asks, and refers to the suit in her hands.

"i was sorta bitten by a radioactive spider at the place gwen used to work at," peter explains.

"wait so what exactly did that do?" y/n's genuine curiosity shocks peter. he was mostly worried she'd never want to talk to him again, or freak out and tell her brother.

peter rolls the sleeves up of his longsleeve shirt and shows the girl the black bands on his wrists. he chuckles as her eyebrows furrow. peter simply shoots a web towards the backpack on the bed, and is quick to hold it in his hand.

he chuckles again at y/n's reaction. "holy shit!" y/n's jaw is to the floor as she's amazed by the boy in front of her. "what else can you do?"

once again, peter lets out a laugh, before he drops the backpack on the ground. y/n watches peter stand on her bed and jump. his hand touches the ceiling which leaves the boy hanging there. y/n laughs before covering her mouth and watches peter bring his other limbs up as he starts to crawl on her ceiling.

"that's so cool!" y/n exclaims while peter lands on his feet with a thud.

y/n stands with the first aid kit to put it back in the bathroom, however she feels a small tug at the back of her shirt.

"i can also do this," peter states, before y/n twirls back towards peter until she's right in front of him. she looks down at the white stringy web now wrapped around her waist.

before she can get a single word out, peter's lips meet hers. his hands hold her waist until one moves to cup her cheek. after y/n's first reaction of shock fades away, her hands rest on peter's shoulders, before her hands interlock behind his neck.

the kiss is quick to heaten up. peter moves y/n to her bed and leans her down, with him hovering over her. y/n's hands are now on peter's jaw as she caresses over his skin, and peter feels nothing but butterflies in his stomach.

much to the two teenagers dismay, they pull away from each slightly and both catch their breath.

both y/n and peter's heads turn at the sound of a rattling doorknob. peter's quick to lock it as he shoots a web across the room.

"y/n?" josh calls from the other side of the door. "i heard a loud thud from my room. you okay?"

y/n's eyes scan her floor and she internally groans at herself for dropping the first aid kit from earlier.

she's quick to come up with a lie, "yeah i uh- just dropped my history books."

y/n's shoulders relax as josh responds, "oh okay, just checking."

as soon as josh's door closing could be heard from y/n's room, peter questions, "where were we?"

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield #spiderman #the amazing spider man #tasm #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader

[mgparker]

moment of forever

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

sequel for scared to breathe

part i | word count: >6k

summary: months after the events of the multiversal battle, you’re stuck in an endless loop of helplessness and isolation. when seeking help from the person who started it all goes extraordinarily wrong, you find yourself in a different universe all together… with no way home.

warnings: sequel to scared to breathe, f!reader, sad feelings, MOM spoilers, long intro before peter content, fluff, injury, fast-paced with lots of time skips, more like a series of important little events, fast-paced romance, some another chance easter eggs, mostly edited

i won’t lie. this is a bit too quick for my taste and it’s all kinda shoved together. lots of little events in between each scene are excluded for the sake of giving both reader & peter a happy ending. but if you’d like to see more of the in-between stuff, i’d be more than happy to create their own little world. oh and also sorry for the long doctor strange intro, it was necessary. anyway, here’s some fluff .

Despite your exhaustive efforts to figure out why the world especially hated you, the answer just wouldn’t come.

Not even as you cried in your tiny apartment, fingers pulling at the ends of your strained hair painfully, lungs desperately searching for air.

Why, why on earth were you, of all people, the only one who was exempt from Strange’s stupid spell? Is there a reason the universe spared you the mercy of being oblivious to the starving pain that would come from being separated from everything you once knew?

Granted, the sorcerer’s spell didn’t erase all previous connections from your life—even the ones that were created due to Peter Parker’s important role in your growing years—but it definitely caused a strain on all the important ones.

Ned, MJ, hell even Happy…

Because try as they might, they could never really explain how they came to know you—only that they suddenly just did, influenced by a moment in their life that was shadowed by a cloud of darkness and mystery.

Yes, Peter Parker may not have been the only person in your world that you cared about, but he was damn well responsible for most of the other relationships that you held dear.

Without him, you would’ve never befriended Ned Leeds or Michelle Jones. You would’ve never interned for Tony Stark or wiggled your way into Happy Hogan’s secretly warm heart.

Without him, you would’ve never gotten into this situation in the first place… but you couldn’t blame him. You couldn’t hold any ill-will towards the teen, not when every cell in your body longed to leave your apartment right now and go searching all of New York City for him.

Why were you the only person who could remember Peter Parker?

Not only that—why did you still dream of the other Peter Parker that you met what seems like years ago? (In reality, it’d only been a few months).

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t. And it especially wasn’t fair that you had no solid way of finding either of them.

The tears on your cheek were starting to dry. And your desperation was starting to drive you insane…

Your last option had been running through your mind for a while now, the thought popping into your everyday thoughts sporadically throughout the last few weeks until you had no choice but to finally entertain it.

It couldn’t be the wildest idea to exist—people had done crazier things before, right?

And as you wiped at your face and stood up from your creaking bed, you were determined to finally see it through.

177A Bleeker Street was even more daunting than it was last year; the Sanctum Santorum hanging over you menacingly.

But it wasn’t enough to deter you from your plan; you took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock—

The door swung open suddenly. Your hand fell forward along with most of your body before you caught yourself embarrassingly.

“Jesus,” you sighed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried your hardest not to glance back at the fellow New Yorkers that were rushing down the street behind you. Like they’d really care, honestly.

“Not Jesus.”

“Wow!” You practically screamed, one hand flying to your chest while the other flew around aimlessly, desperate to put distance between you and the unexpected voice. “Okay, that was uncalled for.”

Doctor Stephen Strange stood at the top of the grand staircase, reminiscent to a few months ago when he’d greeted you, Ned and MJ before everything went to shit.

In his usual sarcastic fashion, one eyebrow raises carefully. “What’s uncalled for is you showing up at my door without invite.”

Someone’s in a bad mood. “Yeah, sorry about that, we aren’t exactly buddies, and I couldn’t just dial you up so—” His outfit caught you off-guard, a pristine suit and tie replacing his usual sorcerer attire. “What’re you wearing?”

Strange rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He pointedly ignored your question.

The compliment you were ready to give died on your lips, a glare replacing your original response.

“I need help fixing a mistake that you made.”

“’Mistake that I made?’” There’s a hint of a smile on the man’s face, but it isn’t a happy one.

You realized how bold you were being. “Y-yeah.”

“Let’s get something straight,” Strange began, slamming the door shut behind you with a flick of his finger. “The only mistake I made was inviting three children into my home and effectively ruining any privacy I might’ve once had.”

Definitely in a bad mood. Maybe you should take a different route.

“Sir, I’m aware that showing up here unannounced wasn’t a good idea but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Irritated, Strange shut his eyes and sighed.

He could think of a hundred reasons not to hear you out, but something tells him it might actually be important. After all, it was his initial spell that nearly caused the destruction of the multiverse. Even if the last spell was successful and Spider-Man’s identity was concealed from everyone’s mind, including his own, there still could be some loose ends he could’ve forgotten to tie.

“Can you walk fast?”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

“Can you walk fast? I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”

Realizing this might be your only chance, you jumped at it frantically. “Yes—yes, I can. Super fast.”

Adjusting his watch, Strange jogged down the steps and towards the door. “Talk to me on the way.”

Without hesitation, you set off after him, hot on his trail. “On the way where?”

“Wedding.”

“You’re getting married?” You gawked stupidly. Thankfully, he’s walking ahead of you.

Strange scoffed. “I wouldn’t be late to my own wedding.”

A quip sat at the tip of your tongue, but he continued. “It’s not too far so I would get to the point if I were you.”

“Right,” you matched his quick pace. “A few months ago, you cast a spell that was meant to erase the identity of Spider-Man from the entire world.”

“Yes,” he agreed roughly.

You cringed in anticipation. “Let’s say your spell didn’t exactly work.”

Your walk was brought to an abrupt halt. You whipped around to face Doctor Strange and the look on his face was deadly.

“Excuse me?”

People dodged your bodies left and right, traffic building up on the busy sidewalk.

“I know who Spider-Man is still and—”

“Stop,” his palm flew up. “Don’t say anything.”

“But I—”

“Don’t—”

“Just let me—”

“No—”

“I’m not going to tell you who he is!” You said over his protests.

It became silent.

“You know who he is,” it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Did you happen to remember this out of the blue or—”

“There was nothing to remember,” you said matter-of-factly. “You see, I never forgot. At the beginning, I thought the spell would take some time to settle in, so I tried to shrug it off. But then days turned into weeks and everyone else has moved on but me.”

Strange adjusted his suit, peering around the street as he tried to regain a bit of composure. Out of all things you could’ve told him, he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

How is it that you, a girl with no extraordinary abilities (that he knew of), resisted the effects of an advanced enchantment? One that even infiltrated his enhanced mind…

“Alright, kid,” you were back to walking down the street, following Strange who had a strange pep in his step. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come to this event with me. You’re going to pretend as if you don’t exist and then we’re going to figure this whole situation out after I’m done.”

You cringed at the idea of sitting through a stranger’s wedding. “Are you sure I have to go to this wedding with you? I could always stop by the Sanctum tomorrow—”

“No,” he said sternly. “I’m not so sure you understand. This shouldn’t have happened. We’re going to talk to Wong and we’re going to figure out why you have the ability to withstand a universal spell.”

And that’s how you ended up at a stranger’s wedding. A stranger who you later found out was Strange’s ex-girlfriend, who he clearly hasn’t gotten over—you had a keen eye and a knack for observation.

In all, the entire ideal was extremely uncomfortable, your jeans and t-shirt sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of elegant invitees… It wasn’t until a loud crash had all of the guests tripping over themselves to squeeze onto the balcony, chaos erupting on the streets of New York City.

Rusty from months of zero superhero action, you weren’t quick enough to reach Doctor Strange before he was throwing himself off the balcony dramatically, cape billowing behind him and leaving the group gasping at his heroics.

“Damn,” you muttered, backtracking until you were at the staircase, taking two or three steps at a time.

Staying at the wedding was likely the safest option, probably the option Strange would’ve preferred, but it had been too long since you’d been involved in crimestopping. The superhero itch was too intense to ignore… This was your element.

…Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’d find once you busted through the doors onto the Manhattan streets.

A one-eyed octopus was tearing through the concrete, smashing into buses and buildings with an eye set to kill. Heart racing in your ears, you followed its line of vision onto… a girl?

She couldn’t have been much younger than you. Jet-black hair thrown up into a ponytail, a denim jacket slung over her shoulders, white sneakers that had seen better days.

Jesus.

Frantically, you looked for Strange and within the destruction, a flash of red was weaving through the running crowd. Clearly, he had the situation handled.

Without a second thought, you made a beeline toward the girl, jumping over concrete slabs and dodging overturned cars until you were feet away from her.

Fire raced through your legs. If there’s one thing you’ve gotten from this, it’s that you needed to run more.

“Hey!” You heaved, hands waving as you pushed on.

The girl’s head snapped toward you, fear stretching her lips into a deep frown. Her chest was rising as quickly as yours.

“We gotta get out of here! Let’s go—”

The ground disappeared beneath your feet, your lungs freezing as a slimy tentacle wrapped around your sore leg.

You were screaming bloody murder, possibly ripping through your vocal cords as the street got further and further from you. You were damn near close to soaring above the buildings beside you.

Pain tore through your back as you finally slammed into the balcony of a building next to you, your leg being released, forgotten by the octopus as it focused back on the girl who looked like an ant from your height.

Icy fear froze you to your spot, clutching at your throat. Since falling from the Statue of Liberty, heights had been a tricky thing for you.

A sweat broke out on your hairline, and you dared to close your eyes. There was no way down from here.

Any peace you could’ve found was quickly obliterated when your building was rattling again, the monster slamming into the balcony once more until the girl was a foot away from you.

Before the monster could end both of your lives, Strange was back on his feet again, leading it away.

You turned toward the girl. “Hey, that—that was a close one,” you attempted to joke. Turns out you spoke too soon.

The slab of concrete collapsed, sending you both sliding down the side of the building, meeting halfway in a crash of limbs and shrill screams. Frantic brown eyes found yours before everything around you was suddenly spinning, your vision surrounded by an array of colors. The two of you were falling feetfirst into a… a portal?

“Ah! What the hell?” It was the first thing you could muster, heaving from the impact of the cold, damp sidewalk.

Though your body protested, you pushed yourself onto your knees, trying to find the denim-clad girl who had fallen with you.

Except she was nowhere to be seen… and this wasn’t the New York you’d left behind.

Here, the sun was nearly gone, darkness shadowing the corners of the alley you found yourself sitting in. The lights of nearby billboards reflected on the rain drops of the concrete.

Something about all of this was off… Well, excluding the fact that your surroundings had magically disappeared and then reappeared again, only to find yourself in a completely different place than where you had just been a mere second ago.

What in the hell was going on?

Scrambling to your feet, you pressed yourself to the wall, pain shooting up your ankle as soon as you tried to put weight on it. Must’ve landed on it wrong.

You cursed under your breath, cradling your ankle as tears threatened to spill.

In fact, you were so caught up in your own agony that you failed to notice the shuffle at the end of the alleyway. Or the figure that had landed on the rooftop of the building across from you, crouched curiously.

Softly, it landed in the shadows, obscured from your vision as you continued to lament over your injured joint.

Awestruck, Spider-Man made his way closer to you. Everything in him was screaming that this whole thing must be a dream, a wildly vivid deception conjured up by the aching part of his brain that constantly longed for you.

But you looked too real, crouched over with your hair framing your pain-stricken face. T-shirt hanging over your shoulders as you mumbled undecipherable words. Even from his spot, he could see the chipped polish on your nails and the stained converse on your feet… Lord, you were even wearing the same necklace as the day of the Statue of Liberty incident.

A swell of emotions attacked him. Then, your name was leaving his lips before he could help it, his feet tripping over themselves in a clumsy matter. All to get to you before you could vanish before his very eyes.

Except this wasn’t a dream—you weren’t going to vanish—and you were really there. Breathing before him with flushed cheeks and curious eyes.

“Peter?” You breathed, recognizing the silhouette of the man even in the darkness.

Little did he know, Peter Parker from Earth-120703 also infiltrated your mind constantly, appearing in the form of sweetest dreams and fantasies (whenever you weren’t torturing yourself with nightmares). You hadn’t meant to let his short visit to your earth affect you so much, but there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off.

Tears welled up and he was quickly ripping the mask off, revealing his messy brown locks and shiny disbelieving eyes.

“H-how?” He was slowly approaching you now. All he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms.

You mirrored his look of disbelief. “I don’t know. I-I went through this portal and ended up here—oof!”

The dam broke as he suddenly pulled you in, legs tangling with his. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him as close as humanly possible with an idiotically huge smile.

You never thought you’d seen your Peter again, much less this Peter. Happy couldn’t begin to describe the plethora of feelings rushing to your brain.

Beneath your grip, you felt Peter’s body begin to tremble. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You pulled away the slightest bit, searching for his eyes and feeling your heart crack when you found the tears spilling down his red cheeks. “Peter…”

“I have to be dreaming,” he shuddered, closing his eyes softly.

You smiled. “This is real, Peter. I’m here… somehow.”

He didn’t answer, only tightening his grip around your waist. It began to drizzle, rain trickling over your intertwined bodies, but it didn’t dare ruin the moment of bliss between you two.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure how this happened… but what I do know is that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since December.”

Peter finally looked up, catching your gaze with a clouded look.

You were distantly aware of how little space existed between the two of you. “Say something,” you breathed.

Swallowing his fear, Peter sighed shakily. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Peter, you had no choice—”

“I shouldn’t have left without telling you how much being with you meant to me,” he finished pointedly. Your gaze kept flickering between his intense stare and the lips you’d been dreaming about for months.

This was a fool’s game. Harboring feelings for someone you’d only known for a day, but you had felt the profound love he held for you—in his universe, yours and the next. Even in that one day he’d spent most of ignoring you. The last hour you had after the battle created a bond you were sure had been pulling on your heart strings until this very moment.

It was a fool’s game—loving someone who had loved a different version of you. But despite all of it, the universe had created your souls for each other, in this world and the next, forever bonded by the complexity of your hearts, sewn and meticulously intertwined only to fit with each other’s.

You pulled him into your embrace again, cuddling him in an attempt to soothe over any guilt or pain he felt from your sudden goodbye. “I understand. It’s so okay, I’m here now.”

“You’re here now,” he repeated into your hair shakily. His hands held you like glass.

It’s funny—how adamant he was on not meeting your eyes, not talking to you, hell not even touching you all those months ago. Now, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

The cold, distant Peter you met was gone. And your own behavior was surprising you— it was a mixture of the relief of escaping your months-long isolation since the spell gone wrong, and the feelings that were blossoming slowly but surely.

A sharp sting reminded you of your pressing injury.

“Peter,” you hissed, trying to divert the weight off your leg.

“What?” He seemed unnecessarily startled, pulling away from you as if he’d been burned. His frantic eyes searched your body.

“It’s my ankle,” he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten how you were hunched over in pain. “I think I sprained it when I landed here.”

In a series of clumsy movements, Peter’s mask was securely placed over his face again and he was crouched in front of you funnily.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Even with the mask, you could imagine the eyebrow raise Peter gave you as he spun to look at you. “I can take you to my place. We can check it out there…”

You didn’t mean to hesitate. Since you had been thrown into this new world, your brain had been moving in slow-motion.

“If you want, of course! There’s-there’s a hospital a few blocks down. If you want, you could get it checked out by a professional because I—” a nervous laugh escaped him. “—I’m obviously not a doctor. Of course, you’d want to get it checked out by a doctor. Sorry, that was stupid—”

“Hey!” You laughed. “I don’t mind getting evaluated by Bugboy. I happen to trust you more than anyone anyway so…”

You’d said it so casually, but to Peter, it meant everything.

He stared at you for a moment too long before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, then it’s decided. Back to my place we go. Fair warning, I’m not the neatest person.”

You hopped on his back without an ounce of grace. “I don’t mind.”

You’re a clean freak, Peter thought quietly. Of course, you mind.

But he discarded it to the back of his mind, focused on getting you to a safer place.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

And then you were swinging the streets of Manhattan, soaring over bridges and buildings until you were landing on the fire escape of a Queens apartment. High above the ground, definitely on a double-digit floor.

For once, the height didn’t scare you.

Peter wasted no time in retrieving a first aid kit as soon as he’d gotten you both through the window. You could barely make out the layout of his bedroom, disoriented from how fast the hero was moving.

Peter crouched in front of you, dropping to his knees as he gently pushed you back onto his bed.

You hit the comforter softly, holding yourself up by your elbows as you peered down at the suit-clad man.

He poked and prodded at your swollen ankle, drawing out a long hiss through your nostrils as you fought the reflex of kicking him away.

Smoothly, he reached into the first aid kit and took out a large roll. Wrapping it around the joint firmly, he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

“Good news—it isn’t sprained.”

“Great,” you sighed in relief, falling back onto the bed.

“But it could hurt to walk for a few days.”

You threw a thumbs up. “Awesome.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t have classes for a few weeks so it all evens out.”

A few weeks? Did you want to stay in this world for that long? Did you really have a choice in the matter? Did you even want to go back?

It barely took any contemplating for you to realize that you didn’t. Doctor Strange was clearly in over his head with all the ruckus happening at his doorstep and he couldn’t have looked more clueless when you told him of your predicament this morning… you wouldn’t be surprised if the sorcerer had no clue how to fix the issue… and at this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

You hadn’t realized that forgetting your Peter would also mean forgetting the one who had just patched up your swollen ankle. Not that your Peter didn’t mean as much to you (in all honesty, your years of friendship with him meant more than anything in the world) but the growing bond with this universe’s Peter had transcended the barriers of space and time…

That had to mean something. You felt it.

Still, you couldn’t help the slightest twinge of guilt. I mean, you had technically landed in his universe uninvited. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

It was stupid to say, but you couldn’t help it.

Are you kidding? Peter gawked. He didn’t dare utter it out loud though. “It’s no imposition at all,” is what he settled for instead. Because he knew you, down to your very core. He could read you like a magazine.

The sincere look in his eyes was all it took to ease your hesitance. “Thanks,” you smiled bashfully.

Before he could stare at you in awe any longer, Peter stood up with the first aid kit in hand. He moved to put it away, but he was stopped by a sudden grip on his hand.

It was your hand, small and warm in his. Curved and carved in familiar lines that he’d spent hours and hours memorizing when he once had you in his arms…

Frozen, he waited for your next move.

Wobbling, you pulled yourself up until you were nearly chest-to-chest with Peter.

It was still and quiet for a few moments.

Now that you were so close to him, your mind went blank.

“Um—” his eyes darted from your eyes to your moving lips. “What… what year is it?”

Wow. Out of all things you could’ve broken the tension with, the only question that comes to mind is the date. You instantly want to bash your head into a wall. It’d been too long without any Peter Parker interaction; you were beginning to lose your touch.

It seemed like a bucket of cold water fell on Peter’s head. The anticipation in his gaze melting into amusement. “It’s, erm, it’s 2015.”

Your jaw dropped, leaning back to sit on the bed again. “Are you serious?”

Your grip on his hand didn’t waver. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you got up in the first place—you just didn’t want him to leave your side yet.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Imagine my surprise when I landed in your world.”

The first aid kit clattered at the movement, uncomfortably hitting his shoulder. Getting a grip, you finally released his hand.

“Right…” you murmured, watching as he went to store the kit underneath the bathroom sink. There was a hesitance in his step, as if he too didn’t want to linger far from your presence.

He sauntered back over to you. Sitting crisscross-applesauce, Peter gave you a smile that made your heart stop.

“So… what have I missed?”

It was a bit strange at first, you had to admit, but eventually, you and Peter fell into a routine.

Well, it was more like you had assimilated into his routine… staying at his apartment (though you definitely had the choice of leaving if you wanted to) without complaint and attempting to chef up whatever you could with the sparce ingredients Peter picked up from the grocery store.

When you weren’t cooking something, you found yourself tidying the small space up, despite the man urging you to rest your ankle.

It’d been days, almost a week, and your injury was on the precipice of full healing. The only word for Peter’s behavior was doting.

It was only the seventh night of your arrival on this strange world that you and Peter finally moved past the awkward roommate stage.

It was late… or rather early in the morning. The clock read 3:27 AM, the LED lights flashing behind your closed eyelids from how many times you’d checked on it throughout the night.

Peter had arrived twenty minutes ago from his Spider-Man duties. The shower was on, the only sound in the apartment and you found yourself hyper fixating on it.

Sighing, you dreadfully thought of how he would open the bathroom door, hair damp and eyes weighed down from the lack of sleep. How he’d smile at you brightly despite it, and wish you a goodnight before softly closing his bedroom door and quietly making his way to the small couch in his even smaller living room.

It made you feel like a burden, even though Peter did everything in his power to make sure you felt like anything but.

Reassurances could only work for so long.

Which triggered the same discussion every morning—you’d tell him you were more than happy to take the couch and he’d endlessly argue against it.

Tonight was going to be different.

Your eyes squinted against the light of the bathroom, the door opening slowly. Steam poured into the room and along came Peter, shaking out his messy hair.

As usual, his tired eyes lit up when he saw you sitting up against the bedframe. Even with the messiest bedhead and crumpled t-shirt, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

God, he never would’ve thought you’d be in his life again. The multiversal incident was something out of his wildest dreams, an instance that should’ve never happened, a blip in the timeline of the universe… but God, was he glad that it happened.

Otherwise, he would’ve never known that you were the same here and in every universe, with a spirit as shiny as gold and as bright as the sun.

You were his sun.

Dragging his feet to the door, he began to give you his usual goodnight.

“Wait,” you cut him off.

He did just that, hand hovering over the doorknob expectantly.

“If you won’t let me sleep on the couch,” you swallowed down your nerves. “Why don’t we just share the bed?”

Silence.

“I just hate that you’re out there and I’m in here so I thought there’s more than enough space… if you want.”

More silence.

You overstepped, of course you did. That’s the only thing you could gather from the impassive look on the brunette’s face. An apology was at the tip of your tongue, regret staining your ears red.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Peter protested. Still, his hand slid off the doorknob.

“It’s your bed,” you pointed out.

“Still,” Peter shook his head. “I don’t mind the couch. Really. It’s more convenient too, you know—”

“More convenient than your own bedroom?” You chuckled, realizing Peter was as nervous as you were.

In all honesty, he couldn’t want anything more. He longed to close the distance between you constantly. When once your touch practically burned him in that small supply closet in Midtown High’s lab, now it was all he could think about.

Fear held him back. The fear of getting too close and then losing you again. The fear of falling even more in love with you because it scientifically just couldn’t be possible. Loving someone any more than he loved you would surely send him to the hospital.

But you were staring at him with glistening eyes, cheeks flushed from embarrassment, but still letting the corners of your lips curl into an anxious frown.

“It’s just that… ever since that night—when I fell off the Statue of Liberty—”

Every muscle in Peter’s body seized up, eyes shutting on instinct. Endless images of your falling body replayed like a broken record.

“—I haven’t been able to sleep. Every night, I’m right back there. Falling into a bottomless void—” your voice cracked and you quickly cleared your throat. It was pathetic to cry about something that had already happened. Especially when the person in front of you had experienced it before, twice.

“I’m sorry,” you gathered your bearings. “If I’ve crossed a line…”

“Absolutely not,” breathed Peter, eyes glistening with unshed tears. With that, he finally gave into his desire, rushing toward you before you could break down entirely.

Arms wrapped around your waist, the bed sinking with his weight, and you finally let yourself feel.

It was a mixture of fear—no, terror—and comfort. The sensation of falling again but being caught in the arms of the person you trusted with your life. Peter had saved your life and you knew he’d do it time and time again.

So that’s how you fell asleep that night, pressed into the crook of Peter’s neck.

You barely heard it, but as you drifted off, a quiet whisper was uttered with a gentle press of lips against your forehead.

“I won’t ever let anything happen to you. Never again.”

You were happy to find that every night after was nightmare-free, instead replaced with dreams of your happiest moments growing up in Queens. Flashes of your friends in Midtown, giggling with Ned, Peter and MJ. Memories of the last moment you had with Peter, who was quickly becoming your favorite person, at the bottom of the monument of your original universe.

The two of you were slowly becoming more comfortable with crossing more boundaries, tangling your limbs together in bed or wrapping each other in a hug whenever Peter would return home from his Spider-Man duties.

It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you, a stark contrast to how he’d acted the first time you met him. But the bandage had been ripped off and things were different now. He had a second chance to make things right with you, to not commit the same mistakes he once had.

You were his second chance.

Though you were constantly fretting over pulling your own weight around the place, Peter felt like you were doing too much. After all, his home would always be yours.

So, it’s how he ended up taking a night off from patrolling to instead gather all the ingredients for your favorite dish. (At least he hoped red pepper pasta was your favorite dish, everything else he’s known about you has been consistent in both universes).

When you woke up from your nap that evening, seeking the delicious smell that was wafting in from the kitchen, your heart melted when you found Peter at the stove. Dashing between the counter and the sizzling sauce on the burner, he had never been more handsome.

It was pathetic really, the speed it had taken you to cross the small distance between the bedroom door and where the hero stood.

But it didn’t matter. Because you had one single thought in your mind—one that had been floating around for weeks now in the back of your head—and it took over.

A sound of surprise escaped Peter when you crashed into him, spatula crashing onto the ground forgotten. You wasted no time in tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him close enough that his shaky breath hit your lips.

You sought permission in his eyes, searching until he gave you his answer. And it came faster than expected, the tiniest of nods bringing his mouth closer to yours before Peter pressed his lips to yours.

Slightly chapped but a sensation that turned the spark in your belly into a full-blown fire… uncontained and wild, burning through every emotion until all you could feel was unconditional love.

A feeling you didn’t know you were searching for all your life until you ended up in this precise moment, wrapped in the arms of someone who loved you more than the moon loved the stars and the sun loved the moon.

You pitied those who wouldn’t find a love as extraordinary as the one you’re consumed by… because you’ve said it again and again but only just realized the raw depth and truth to these words— the universe had created your souls for each other, beyond the voids of space and time, destined to intertwine infinitely until the world ended and another began… It was destiny that had brought him to you the first time.

And fate that would have you sharing this moment of forever in a small, dingy apartment in Queens.

hey! missed you all <3 i’ve had about 10 peter parker drafts in my computer for a few months and they’re finally coming together.

hope you’re all doing well & much love to you all<3 feel free to send me a pm with any updates or rants or requests. i’m aware that there’s a good amount of requests i never got to. don’t worry, i didn’t ignore them. i’ve just lacked inspiration to write for so long and i’m still not quite confident in my ability to write in a style that i genuinely like. still, tumblr makes me extremely happy and i love interacting with all you readers and creators.

anyway, that’s all for now.

— elle <3

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spider-man x reader #andrew!peter parker x reader #garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield x reader #tasm x reader #spider-man #spider-man x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker #peter parker fluff #tasm imagine #the amazing spider-man imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #doctor strange #america chavez #scared to breathe #part 2 #mgparker

[spiderfunkz]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

peter has liked you for a while now.

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

yes, but no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you smile, "sure."

"really?"

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

you nodded, "of course."

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

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

"text me!" you yell out.

peter nodded eagerly.

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

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

[literaila]

hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

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

[pasukiyo]

COME IN WITH THE RAIN

peter parker x f!reader word count; 3,357 warnings; nothing really, just good ol' fashioned hurt & comfort summary; peter knew he'd messed up. he'd grown accustomed to being a screw-up throughout the years but just once, just this once, he wished he hadn't been. he can't stop himself from going to your apartment, however, and he certainly didn't expect the surprise of seeing your window already open...

 No calls.

 No texts. 

 Peter stared down at his blank lock screen, as if if he looked long enough, he could will a message or a call or something to appear. The streets of Queens bustled with life below his dangling legs, cars honking and people shouting into the night. The air was thick and smelled like rain, big, daunting gray clouds illuminated by the city hovering in the sky. Peter felt like they were there solely to taunt him, their promise of downpour his punishment for having screwed things up so royally. 

 Although he knew rain was on its way, Peter couldn’t bring himself to tear away from the ledge he sat on. He couldn’t look away from his phone, couldn’t stop thinking of what he could say even if she did call, what he should say, what he should’ve said before. If rain fell now, he knew he’d deserve to be drenched, deserved to swing home in an uncomfortably wet spandex suit. 

 Peter knew he was a fuck-up. He’d known it all his life. He knew he was bound to mess up everything in his life but just once, just this once, he hoped he wouldn’t screw this thing, this beautiful, amazing thing up. 

 Of course he should’ve known that it was all wishful thinking. 

 Of course he fucked up again. Why did he expect this to be different? 

 Peter thought back to the last time they’d talked only the night prior, he could still see the furrow of her eyebrows, the frown he’d created on her lips, the tears that rimmed her sockets that he knew he was the cause of. He still recalled the way she sounded, her raised voice thick with her tears. He still remembered the quiver of her lip whenever he said words he didn’t mean, the way her chest heaved with her irregular breathing, the way she ran her hands over her face when she tried to calm herself down, holding her palms over her ears when he raised his voice.

 All of it haunted him, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes, when he breathed, when he blinked. He wished he could turn back time, could take back every belittling thing he said, wish he could go back and wrap his arms around her instead of leaving her to do it herself. 

 He still remembered the way her gaze cowered to the floor when she pushed him out the door, the sound of it slamming closed behind him piercing his ears like a gunshot. Peter didn’t know why he said all of those awful things when he truly didn’t even mean them, too wrapped up in his own emotions to even care whether or not his words held any weight on her or not.

 And now it was all coming back to haunt him.

 A droplet of rain fell from the heavens and fell in a wet plop against his cheek, foreboding more rain to come. Peter sighed as he glanced back down at his phone, using his hand to shield the rain away from the screen. It wouldn’t matter, of course— there were still no calls, no texts, nothing. 

 Peter blinked down at his empty phone screen as rain began to fall harder, weighing heavy on his lashes. It was close to eleven now— maybe she was asleep. He hoped so, anyway. 

 With a sigh, he locked his phone and stared ahead towards the city before him, facing the direction he knew her apartment was. He pondered the possibility that she was awake. If he could just see her, even for just a moment…

 Would she turn him away? Yell at him, throw things at him, break up with him, get rid of him for good? Peter knew at this point to expect the worst, but the overall urge to swing to her window for just even the smallest chance that her curtains wouldn’t be drawn closed and he could just see her was too strong for him to resist. 

 So, he tucked his phone away, pulled down his mask, and despite the rain beginning to pour, swung his way towards her building. He couldn’t stop thinking about how dumb this must be, how pathetic it was for him to show up at her window out of the blue in the middle of the night. He knew he should leave her alone, wait for her to come to him whenever she was ready, give her the space she’d pleaded for just the night before. 

 But it was impossible for Peter to even live with himself knowing he was just sitting back on his heels, waiting to be broken up with. He’d fucked up, yes, and he’d screwed up countless amounts of times before in his life. But he’d also never tried to make up for the things he had done, never fought for something like he was realizing he wanted to fight for her. He wouldn’t let this go, this beautiful, amazing thing he had taken for granted.

 He didn’t care what it would take. Peter would at least try to fix the castle he’d crumbled. 

 He hissed through his teeth when he stuck a particularly hard landing against the side of her building, fingers and toes stuck like glue to the wet brick as he crawled his way to her window. Peter narrowed his eyes behind his mask to get a better look past the rain, because he swore that he could see the wind blowing her curtains out of the window, as if she’d left it open.

 Goosebumps littered Peter’s skin beneath his suit– it was freezing, how could she have left her window open in this weather? It would be a miracle if she didn’t catch a cold.

 As he approached, he realized that he was right– her window was in fact open and her curtains were in fact not drawn, the rain falling straight onto her window seat, soaking the blankets and pillows she kept there. Her pink curtains were drenched as well and whipping in the wind, the material slapping Peter in the face as he approached and he grumbled, using one hand to slap them away while the other held onto the brick.

 The curtain kept whipping back in his face and he groaned, clutching a fistful of the fabric to hold it in place. Finally, he had a better view of her bedroom, the soft marmalade glow from her bedside lamp the only light illuminating her room. When Peter crawled closer to catch a better look, he could see her figure only halfway beneath the covers of her bed, turned to her side, her arm bent beneath her pillow to support her head. Her lids were closed, her eyelashes softly twitching against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she breathed. 

 Warmth flared in Peter’s heart at the sight and his gaze scanned over her figure again when he realized how cold she must be, wearing only a short sleeve shirt and shorts with an entire leg sticking out of the comforter. He cursed beneath his breath as he crawled as quietly as he could inside her bedroom, warily landing on her window seat, wincing as he glanced back at her, hoping he hadn’t woken her. Once he had confirmed she was still asleep, he lowered himself onto the ground, aware of the wet footprints he was leaving behind as he tip-toed his way over to her bed.

 Peter knelt towards the ground when he had reached the side of her bed, his fingers itching to touch her face as he stared at her. She looked so peaceful now, a stark difference to her demeanor the last time he’d seen her. He wondered if she was dreaming now, and what she could be dreaming about. Somewhere deep inside his chest, a selfish thought bloomed that he couldn’t help but ponder. He wondered if she was dreaming about him, if she’d even been thinking about him before falling asleep.

 For a moment, Peter let his fingers, covered in soaked spandex, reach for her face, his forefinger a mere whisper away from her cheek. He sighed, deciding against touching her as he looked off to the side at the comforter partly covering her body. He couldn’t risk waking her– not now.

 Peter reached over for the comforter, adjusting it on her body so that she was fully covered, hoping the goosebumps that had littered across her skin could finally be put at ease now. Peter rose from where he knelt beside her once he was sure that she was covered, taking one last long look at her. Part of him wished she was awake, not only so he could beg for forgiveness, but so he could see her, could look into those beautiful, wonderful eyes he’d grown to love so much. He hated the image of them that haunted him now, the hurt and anger they held when they looked at him last time he saw her.

 Peter’s shoulders heaved with his sigh as he turned, making his way back over to the open window to leave her alone again. That was, until he heard stirring from the bed behind him, his breath hitching at the base of his throat when he heard a soft, tired moan.

 “Peter?”

 A knot of anxiety formed in his chest at the realization that she was awake and everything Peter had planned to do to apologize to her was completely thrown out the window. When he turned around to see her knuckles being dug into her drooping eyes, he panicked, his breath stolen from his lungs until he was rendered speechless. This was not how this was supposed to go, he certainly wasn’t planning on being caught standing in her bedroom in the middle of the night uninvited like a creep.

 “Um…” Peter stammered out as he backed away towards the window, hitting his heel a little too hard against the bottom of her window seat, squeezing his eyelids closed behind his mask in a wince. He fell onto the window seat and crossed his legs, elbows against his calf as he held his head in his hands, trying to breathe through the pain.

 “Are you okay?” He heard her ask from behind his hands and Peter nodded, lifting up a thumb towards the air in reply. His heart was thudding in his chest, partly due to the embarrassment of not only being caught but also freaking out over hitting his heel, and also due to the fact that he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to face her now, to tell her that he was sorry, that he wanted to fight for her. 

 “Peter?” She called his name again, her voice thick with sleep. He could hear the rustling of bed sheets again and when he lifted his head, he saw that she had swung her legs over the side of the mattress so that she now sat up, facing him. “Peter, let me see you.”

 Peter’s heart lurched in his throat at the words she’d often say to him– he had a habit of keeping his mask on when he was in his suit, even when he was alone. He usually didn’t have a problem with removing it but now– he was scared. Like he didn’t want to expose himself to her now, like he was scared his emotions would be written all over his face. It was because he was certain they were, and he was scared of being so vulnerable to her when he knew he had no right to be.

 He was the one who messed things up, he was the one who had hurt her. He had no right to be so upset, to be so damn pathetic.

 “Peter?” 

 Peter’s shoulders drooped with his sigh when he glanced up at her again, her brows furrowed but yet, not in the way she had done the night before. She wasn’t mad now, only curious. In a way, it made him feel relieved. And so, with his twitching fingers, he reached for the hem of his mask, tugging it away from his face, his hair damp and flat against his head once he had finally removed it all the way.

 Now exposed, he couldn’t quite dare meet her gaze, but he could feel it. He could feel her eyes scanning over him, trying to read him the way she knew to do so well. He usually wouldn’t be so terrified beneath her gaze but now he shied away, ashamed that she was seeing him like this.

 “I was waiting for you, you know,” she said after a prolonged silence and Peter dared a glance up at her. She had her knees tucked up to her chest and although she wouldn’t admit it, he could tell she was cold solely by the way her shoulders trembled and her bottom lip quivered. Rather awkwardly, Peter staggered to his feet and turned, pulling her window down, the wind and the rain pounding their fists against the glass when they’d finally be shut away. “Left the window open for you and everything.”

 Peter furrowed his eyebrows as he turned back around to face her, eyeing her quizzically. “Why?” He asked at last. She tilted her head, and he continued. “I mean, why not call? Text? I’m not worth freezing to death over.”

 She shrugged where she sat, pushing her back up against the mattress and tugging her comforter up closer to her legs. “Too tired to call you,” she replied. “Guess I knew you’d come anyways. I know you, you know.”

 Peter shifted his feet awkwardly beneath his weight where he stood, fondling with his mask between his fingers. He couldn’t quite meet her stare so instead he chose to eye the floor as if they held the words he needed to say, the sorrys he knew he owed her. His mouth opened and closed, almost words on the tip of his tongue but dying before they could ever be spoken. He sighed in frustration, turning and scratching his damp head of hair as he stared at the window sill. She said nothing, only watched, waiting. 

 “I don’t… I don’t…” Peter drew his hands in to his chest and pushed them back out, as if trying to force the words from his throat. He shook his head, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. “...I don’t know what to say.”

 She blinked as her gaze softened, staring at the boy her heart beat and her chest burned for. She could hear it in his silence, feel it in the way he was visibly trying to speak but failing that he was sorry, that he still loved her despite everything he had said before. She knew that he didn’t mean a single thing he had said and that he was sorry for that too. She knew that he wished to take it all back, to erase it all and somehow make it up to her.

 He didn’t need to say a single thing. She could hear it in the silence.

 “Peter…” she called his name again and he turned towards her abruptly, sighing as he released his bottom lip from between his teeth. 

 “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, wincing and visibly cringing at his tone, at his abruptness. With the hand his mask was clutched in, he held his hip, the opposite reaching up to scratch at his forehead, shaking his head at himself. His mouth moved as silent curses tumbled past his lips and he turned away from her again, contemplating jumping out the window altogether.

 She could feel the corners of her lips twitch upwards as she pushed herself out of her bed, her footsteps unnoticed by Peter as she approached. He tensed when her fingers grazed the wet spandex of his suit over his hips, circling around his body until their gazes could meet. Deep, inviting pools of brown surged into her stare, so dark that his irises almost melted into his pupils. His brow was furrowed, his gaze so soft, so vulnerable, so apologetic that her heart leapt in her chest.

 Her fingers reached for his and Peter, through a shaky breath, watched as she removed either of his wet gloves until his hand was bare. His breath hitched when her skin met his, so warm that her flesh seemed to melt into his. She squeezed his fingers and drew in closer, their eyes locking once more when he glanced up at her.

 “I know you are,” she said in hardly a whisper, still holding onto his fingers with one hand but using the other to swipe loose strands of his damp, dark locks away from his face. Peter’s lips quivered when she touched his forehead, her fingertips tracing a half moon down his cheekbone before dropping down to his chest, right over where his heart was. “You’re shivering,” she noted. “Why don’t you go change and come to bed?”

 Peter’s heart swelled when he remembered the clothes he’d always somehow left in her bathroom, which had since been folded neatly upon the top of her sink when he wandered inside. He glanced up towards the mirror, watching through the reflection as she settled herself back into bed, head on her pillow as she turned to face his. 

 Peter’s lips parted at the realization that she still wanted him, that she still loved him. He was quick to peel off his damp suit after that, tossing it over the shower rod before stepping into the pair of boxers and his t-shirt he had left. He shut the bathroom light off behind him as he shuffled his feet back into her room, making his way over to the side of her bed that had since been assigned to him, slipping beneath the sheets beside her.

 Warmth enveloped him and once he had finally settled, he glanced up to where she laid, her eyes already upon him. Her arm was tucked beneath her face to support her head and he matched her position, letting himself relax into the plush of the mattress and his pillow.

 For a moment, they simply stared at one another and at some point, her fingers had wandered to the side of his face, toying with the still-wet ringlets there. He closed his eyes and relished the warmth of her touch, desperate to hold on to his moment of solace to make it last forever. But still, a question lingered in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite repress the urge to ask.

 “Why?” He asked quietly, her eyelids fluttering open to meet her stare. Her brows furrowed, “why what?”

 Peter’s tongue darted between his lips to wet them, his eyes dropping to hers for a brief moment. “Wait for me? Leave your window open for me? Why do you even still want me when I was so awful to you?” He asked, wincing at himself. She’d already seemingly forgiven him, so why was he insisting on making her reconsider her choices?

 She blinked, her lips curving into a soft smile. Peter’s lips parted and his breath hitched at the sight before him, the woman laying beside him so beautiful, so wonderful, so his that he couldn’t even quite believe that she was real, that she wasn’t just a dream. 

 “We all say things we don’t mean,” she replied. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean last night too. A relationship is pointless if we can’t trust one another enough to work past it.”

 The pad of her thumb soothed over the expanse of Peter’s cheek, leaving warmth in her touch’s wake as she drew herself in closer to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her with the intent of never letting go. Never had Peter felt more comfortable, more at home than when she was laying in his arms.

 “Besides,” she began, the crescent shape of her smile evident on his chest even through his shirt. “I had a feeling that you’d come in with the rain.”

a/n; this is yet another fic that i've had waiting around in my drafts unfinished for MONTHS now and only just got around to finishing it... but had to make a fic for one of my fave taylor songs ever <3 hope you're able to enjoy this one!

TAGLIST;

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