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psithurista · 1 year

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approach shift pt. eight

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.6k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depiction of anxiety responses.

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

series masterlist

Saturday morning rises blue and cold, and you with it.

You sit blearily upright in bed for too long, wrapped in the covers against the chill as you flick through pictures from last night.

It’s all blurred teeth and disembodied limbs draped in pearl-beaded candy bracelets. There are a lot of people you don’t recognise, but Chris looks deliriously happy, which you figure is the main thing. You feel a fresh pang of guilt for making Bear miss it.

You get to the end of the new posts and start from the beginning again, your eyes glazing past ads for vitamin subscription services and monogrammed phone cases.

You’ll message him today, you tell yourself, yawning, shivering. You just need to work up to it. You don’t want to get the words wrong. Or the tone. Or the timing.

You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle around the apartment wrapped in your comforter, padded like a glass ornament against the world.

You make coffee for yourself and Bear, pouring hers into a vacuum flask to keep hot for when she wakes up. You clean out the grinder—properly, with the little brush it came with, not just shaking it out over the trash, then decide to rearrange the filters into a neat stack so they aren’t all crumpled in the corner.

You’re wiping inside the now-empty drawer when Bear’s door flies open. You catch a glimpse of her as she passes, pillow-creased and frazzled. “I’m so late,” she moans, stumbling into her shoes.

“We didn’t even go out last night; how do you always manage to do this?”

She shrugs, throwing her phone in her bag. “It’s a talent.” You hand her the vacuum flask, and she gasps. “You’re an angel. See you tonight.”

“See you,” you say, watching her go.

Now you’ve taken everything out of the drawers, you figure it’s probably worth doing the same for the rest of the cabinets. You can reorganise everything and actually get a system in place for all the utensils.

It’ll feel good; an easy accomplishment, one you can use to bolster your confidence and sense of capability while trying to decide what to say to Peter.

You put on some music and settle into the rhythm of the task, creating ordered stacks on every surface in the apartment. You unearth the embarrassing ‘STEMing hot stuff!’ mug you’d forgotten about; a joke birthday present from Bear last year.

The morning drips away into afternoon as you hum and sway your way around the apartment. The constant, easy activity keeps you feeling warm and purposeful; it feels so clear, so unconfusing and undemanding on your heart to lift, dust, stack, straighten. You pull all your clothes out of your closet and sort them, finding a jacket you’d forgotten you had and a pair of sneakers with holes in the sides you’d been meaning to throw away.

Once the apartment is vacuumed yet again, couch and all, you light a candle and sit down on the floor to sort the mess of papers and books under the coffee table you’d been meaning to get to. You’d been saving the candle—for what, you aren’t sure anymore—and now the scent of it fills the apartment; sweet and rich. Your stomach growls loudly and you pause, looking at your phone for the first time.

You blink. That can’t be the right time. But it is. Because then Bear’s keys are jingling in the door, and you realise it’s gotten cold again, and you can’t see out the windows anymore because they’ve become black rectangles mirroring the spotless apartment and your own startled face back at you.

“Holy shit,” she says. “It smells like Pine-Sol in here.”

You look up at her vaguely sheepishly as though she’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. “Yeah. I, um, did a little cleaning.”

“A little?” She side-eyes you. “This reminds me of that time you procrastinated for like two weeks contesting that bullshit score you got, when you were too nervous to ask about it.”

“I’m not procrastinating,” you say, affronted.

She stares at you.

“I’m not,” you say.

It’s not like you’ve been intentionally avoiding the message you need to send. You just needed to clear your head first. And the apartment really was overdue for a good clean.

“All our dish rags have been colour-coded,” she observes, her head inside a cupboard.

You keep busy for the rest of the night, taking the world’s longest shower, and then using every single skincare product you can find in the back of the bathroom drawers, including the sample sachets Bear had shoved back there.

Bathed and moisturised and dressed in your softest pajamas, you sit on the edge of your bed and glare at your phone.

Should you be casual about it? Apologetic? Blunt?

You’re overthinking it. Just keep it simple.

hey parker hope you’re doing okay. can i come by? i miss

hey peter. i was thinking and i just really want to apologise for losing my shit at you that night after may’s birthday. but i just think it’s kind of shitty how you

peter, i’m so, so sorry. why didn’t you tell me about

You groan and toss your phone into the pillows piled at the head of your bed. You’re tired. Too tired to think about any of this. You hadn’t realised until now how much the day had taken out of you, but now you’re feeling all that scrubbing in your forearms.

Tomorrow, you think, burrowing down into the warmth of your bed. Tomorrow. —————

Bear drags you out of the apartment the moment you wake up. First to walk laps around the greenmarket, then to what feels like every used bookstore in the city.

You trail her through stacks of shabby Penguins turned spine-out in varying shades of faded orange while she tells you about the girl she’s only just started messaging who may or may not be hinting for her to move in with her already, and try not to look too devastated at the prospect.

“It probably won’t happen though,” she says, frowning at the back of a hardcover Magritte print book. “It’s just something she’s been dropping into conversation and, like, I can’t tell if it’s still a joke or not. Hey, we should go get a matcha.”

By the time you make it home that afternoon, you’re full and happy and barely miserable at all. You curl lazily into the couch while Bear starts on a stir-fry, scrolling through your phone. You’d set up a news alert months ago for Oscorp, back when the dream of working there was still just that, and now you skim through the day’s notifications.

There’s a quarterly financial profile, and a glowing article about one of the company’s recent charitable endeavours; providing water filtration systems to flood-ravaged parts of Papua New Guinea.

You only read the first few lines of it, wondering a little grimly how much PR paid for it to be published. You should probably delete the alert; you’re sick of thinking about work on the weekends. But then, just as you’re about to scroll away, something catches your eye.

'SIX YEARS ON: Has anything changed? Advocates for workplace reform have raised concerns Oscorp hasn’t done enough to meet its court-mandated commitment to transform management of company operations following the release of details from its most recent external review. The damning report comes only weeks after the anniversary of the death of Oscorp intern Gwen Stacy, who has been remembered by a company spokesperson as a “brilliant scientific mind sadly taken far too soon.”

The incident garnered a storm of public interest after allegations Oscorp had attempted to conceal details surrounding then-chairman Harry Osborn’s involvement in the events leading up to Stacy’s death. Unnamed Oscorp sources claimed Osborn was working under the influence of an unreleased drug which had not yet been approved for trials.

While the coroner’s report ruled the death as accidental, Stacy’s family have previously spoken to news outlets asserting the view that Oscorp’s failure to control access to untested pharmaceutical samples led to the tragic event. They did not respond to requests for comment.'

There’s a picture of a girl underneath the article; blonde and freckled and grinning toothily from behind a beakerful of clear liquid. She has the hugest, greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You read it three times before you put your phone down and stare at your feet for a few seconds, listening to the sound of your heart pushing blood around inside your head. Then, you pick your phone back up, open a new browser window, and start typing. —————

It’s colder inside than it was outside.

You unclasp your hands from between your knees, shivery and restless, and lean back from the desk to hug yourself, wrapping your arms tight around your body.

Gary’s cheeks are even redder than usual, bright with windburn; redder than his hair and the raw-looking skin around his eyes. He has a half-eaten almond croissant in his hand and there are crumbs all over the front of his coat.

Your leg bounces under your desk while he absently unwinds his scarf from around his neck, first in one direction, then, realising he’s just winding it tighter, in the other direction. He sets his satchel down and unclips it, ponderously slow.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody in less of a rush in your entire life.

When he finally sits, you only manage to wait a few more seconds before you’re wheeling yourself in his direction.

“Hi Gary.”

He swivels his chair to face you, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Hello,” he says.

You scoot your chair a little closer. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You look at each other for a minute. “I like your plant. Is that one of the ones they were giving out from the Wellness Lounge?”

“It’s fake.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “at least they’re trying to branch out.” You continue looking at each other.

He nods solemnly. “That’s funny.”

You give up. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions. About Oscorp. You’ve been here a long time, right?”

“I guess. Would you consider seventeen years a long time?” He doesn’t ask it with any apparent sarcasm. You don’t answer, just in case it’s rhetorical.

“I wondered if you know much about what happened with Harry Osborn.”

He looks at you with what might pass for mild suspicion. “It’s classified. You’re not going to put this on the internet, are you?“

You shake your head, giving him a little smile. “Just curious. I happened to get here kinda early this morning and stumbled across a few files while I was working. There are entire pages redacted and it just seemed really weird, so I just wondered what it was all about.”

He shoots a quick glance behind you, then lowers his voice. “Yeah, they really didn’t want any of it getting out. He was messing around with unapproved samples, even testing them on himself. And it did something to him, he went completely nuts. Took one of the interns hostage, then he killed her.”

Your heart rattles jagged and loose in your chest. “Gwen Stacy.”

He nods. There’s powdered sugar in his moustache. “Yep. They ruled it an accident, and that was the official story, but all of us who were working here then heard whispers trickle down about what really happened.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? Like I said, he went completely crazy. I doubt he even knew what he was doing. The facility he’s in? It’s not really a hospital. Or, it’s a maximum security hospital, if you get my drift. That’s why we don’t have the intern program anymore. Only graduate positions. You’re the replacement.”

It feels a little bit like how you imagine swallowing drain cleaner must feel. “The replacement,” you echo weakly. “That’s me.”

He seems to realise then how much he’s said, and he snaps his mouth closed. A beat passes, then he squints. “They made you sign an NDA when you started, right?”

You force a little smile. “Sure did.”

He still doesn’t look completely convinced, but then, it’s hard to tell when his face is about as animated as the plastic succulent on his desk. “Well. Good. I better get to work.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You awkwardly scoot yourself back to your desk and stare at your reflection in the black monitor for a while. So May had left out a pretty important detail. Losing Harry and Gwen simultaneously hadn’t just been a case of unfortunate timing.

Gary’s confirmed everything you read, but it’s only made you more frustrated. There’s still something huge and obvious missing here that you can’t find in any of the files or reports or news articles, and it’s the thing you’re most confused about, more than whatever Harry Osborn was doing, performing reckless testing on himself.

Namely: what in the fuck was Peter doing there when it happened?

You’re still facing off with yourself when Doctor Brant walks in and you nearly knock all the shit off your desk in your scramble to look busy.

The day can’t pass fast enough.

Nothing seems to go right. The bottle slips out of your hand while you’re trying to refill the autoclave and you end up pouring distilled water all over your shoes. You forget your swipe card when you go downstairs to pick up a box of equipment and have to call security to let you back into your office.

And to top it all off, you’re still having issues with your starting cultures. You’re standing at the bench in the lab, frowning at yet another failed batch, when there’s a strange wheezing hiss from the vents overhead.

You look up.

Of course it’d just be the cherry on top if the air gave out and you ended up passing out from preservative fumes.

You’re the only one in here at the moment; everyone else is back in the main office, so you carefully replace the lid on your samples and head for the airflow controls.

Which is when the lab plunges into complete darkness.

“Oh, great,” you breathe. You stretch your arms out in front of yourself, groping for walls. “Hello?” you call. “Is anyone else here?”

There’s no answer. You spin around and bump into the cold steel edge of a workbench. Fear trickles into your stomach as you realise you don’t know which way to go. Something smells off, like melting plastic.

The ground rumbles under your feet, and emergency lights flick on in little strips along the floor. Some of the panic leaves your body, and you make it to the doors, slapping your palm hard over the manual release so you can get out.

Everyone in the darkened office is standing around confused and talking loudly at once. A few people have the flashlights on their cells turned on, and you hold your hands out to block the light from your eyes, sidling toward the walls to get away as they all turn to blind you at once.

Doctor Brant‘s face looms out from the shadows of his office doorway looking tense. You make a beeline for him. “What’s going on?” you say, awkwardly falling into step beside him. “Power outage?”

He barely glances at you, striding forward. “So it seems. But the backup should have come on by now.”

You realise then where he’s headed and your mouth drops open. “Oh fuck. The freezers.”

A wry look barely breaks through the worry on his face. “Oh fuck, indeed.”

Some of the samples in those freezers are originals, more than twenty years old. If they warm past a certain temperature…

That’s years of work, gone.

The plastic smell has grown stronger, and there’s the distant sound of an alarm ringing, long and unbroken. A couple of people exchange tense looks as you trail Doctor Brant past them. “Should we be getting out of here?” someone says.

“It’s probably another drill,” someone replies, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah, but. With the power cut?”

Doctor Brant pauses to look back around the office, his hand on the glass doors leading toward the freezers. “Everybody, please make your way outside. Meet at the assembly point. I’ll be down behind you.”

There’s some half-hearted grumbling about this; it’s a long way down using the evacuation stairs instead of the elevators, but then a low, distant rumble sounds from somewhere underfoot and everybody shuts up. There’s a brief bottleneck at the door as everyone tries to squeeze through it at once.

Your desk is on the other side of the office. You can practically hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head: stay calm, forget about your personal belongings, keep up with the group.

But your phone is sitting right in the centre of your desk. It’ll only take you an extra second to grab it.

You shuffle forward gingerly, just to make sure you aren’t about to blind yourself walking into the edge of a shelf in the gloom. Without the extra light from everyone’s phones, it’s even darker than before. Dust motes fall shivering off the lifeless light fixtures overhead as the building vibrates again, harder this time.

You slide your phone off the desk and flip it over so you can stick it into your back pocket, barely glancing at the notification on the screen. Then, the words belatedly registering, you stop. You don’t mean to. You need to get to the stairwell. But you can’t force your body to move.

1 Unread Message from: p.p.

Read it later, you think furiously at yourself. Later, later, later.

But your feet are still rooted to the floor. You need to see what he’s sent. You’ll be quick. Just a glance.

You stand stupid with panic and indecision, neither opening the message nor unrooting your feet. You’re frozen for what feels like a long time, but must only be a couple of seconds.

And then the decision is made for you.

The wall closest to the foyer rushes outward in a tsunami of smoke and insulation, and you hit the edge of your desk hard.

Everything goes black for a couple of seconds. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the grit of dust, and your ears hurt; ringing with burst-out silence. There’s the taste of blood in your mouth from where your teeth snapped shut against the inside of your lip and it feels like you hit your head somewhere on the way down.

When you manage to blink your eyes open again, you’re slumped half-under the desk. Probably a good thing, your shocked brain manages to think; it probably sheltered you from the ceiling panels crashing down. You scramble onto your knees, trying to ignore how unsteady you feel, and peer out.

You can’t see beyond the next row of desks. The smoke is too thick; and it’s too dark to make out much more than the twist of wires hanging from the ceiling where the lights have fallen loose.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You lean back against the desk and try to think. The smoke is coming from the direction of the stairs to the main foyer, which means you can’t get out that way anymore. If the stairs are even still there.

Is there another way down from this level? Surely there must be. You probe your fingers delicately at the back of your head and wince. You have no idea what happened to your phone, so you’ve got no flashlight.

The lab, you think. There’s another emergency exit through to the other side of the lab. The stairs are behind a firewall.

You manage to get your feet underneath your body and shakily stand. It’s quickly becoming unbearably hot in here without the air working. You tuck your mouth and nose into the crook of your elbow as you pick your way forward. Your hearing is starting to come back a little; just a dull roaring sound and that alarm in the distance, still blaring.

You make it all the way to the lab door before it hits you. Doctor Brant.

You wheel around, squinting through the smoke. Fuck. Could he have made it out with the others? Maybe he’s already gone downstairs and is safe, waiting outside somewhere. You only need to think about it for a second before you know you can’t possibly leave without making sure.

You lurch toward the first of the control doors. “Doctor Brant?” The air burns your throat on the way in, and you cough so hard it feels more like a heave.

The heat is worse over here. You touch your hand to the release and hiss, pulling it back. The metal feels like touching the element on a stovetop.

Maybe you can wrap something around your skin to protect it. You hear what sounds like your name, yelled hoarse, and pause. You can’t tell which direction it came from. “I’m here! Oh, God. Doctor Brant? I’m right here. I’m gonna try to find another way to get you out. Hang on.”

You turn to search for something; a discarded jacket, or scarf from the back of somebody’s chair, and there’s a flicker of movement at the other side of the office. The sight unleashes a fresh screech of alarm in your brain. You duck behind one of the still-standing desks and peer out just in time to catch a shock of bright red swimming out from the haze.

You lean around the side, blinking, trying to make it out. The shape turns, and you see it right as it comes toward you: the panels of blue disturbing the red, the printed black over the chest; the long, sharp legs jointed out from the body. Him. Again.

Your stomach drops out. You seize the pen cup from the top of the desk and throw it as hard as you can, stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay the fuck away from me,” you warn, pointing, stumbling backwards.

“Jesus, stop, fuck—” he splutters, hands outstretched, ducking to dodge as you launch a wireless keyboard at him. You dash behind a pillar and run bent-over toward the maintenance hallway. You don’t know if he saw you, or if he’s following.

You know you should probably stop and consider why you’re actually running away from him when he’s probably only trying to help you. But your heart is going too fast for intelligent thought right now. Like a rabbit, without reason or rationale, fuelled by terror and adrenaline.

You hit a dead end and stop. Can you get to the other exit from here? What about Doctor Brant? Your eyes are burning and you scrub the back of your arm across them to try to clear the smoke. You turn to go back the way you came. But he’s there. And he’s already coming toward you. You let out a strange, retching sob-sound. “No. No, no, please, no, get away.”

He steps forward, angular grey eyes looming up out of the smoke and you wheel away. “Hey, stop, don’t go that way—”

Your lungs are on fire, and your eyes are streaming so badly you can’t tell which way to turn to run. He closes the distance between your bodies and then his hands are on your shoulders.

“Listen. Hey, hey, stop, we don’t have time for this, listen, listen to me.” You’re panicking, blind and overwhelmed and terrified, your heart clawing its way up your throat, trying to shove his hands away.

There’s something wrong with all of this. His voice doesn’t sound like you remember—but it does sound the way you know it’s supposed to, and that makes no sense, and your brain is screaming the explanation at you like a cageful of trapped birds screeching and beating against the inside of your skull, but you’re fighting it too hard to listen.

The floor has started vibrating under your feet again, and everything rumbles and groans; a loud pop of breaking glass audible far too close for comfort, but you don’t stop shoving at him as hard as you can, still twisting, trying to get away.

Then one of his hands is around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can’t twist away, and another is on your face, pushing back your hair. His voice is back, loud and firm and right in your ear, cutting through the rush of noise, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Listen to me. Jersey.”

It falls absolutely silent inside your head. You can still feel the smoke in your eyes, in your mouth, but you’re no longer coughing.

You’re no longer breathing.

He’s still talking, the shape of his lips moving alien through the thin red stretch of his mask. “Just breathe. I’m gonna get you outta here. But you gotta tell me if there’s anyone else in the lab who needs help. Hey. Hey, hey, breathe.”

Your mouth moves on its own. “Doctor Brant. He was in the sample freezer. He was…he…”

“Breathe,” he says again, quiet, and you do. The hands that had been shoving at his chest now press shakily to the shape of his body underneath, and, dazedly, you trace the outline of his collarbones. Your throat burns.

“You. You idiot,” you gasp hoarsely, new tears springing to your eyes. “Peter, you—you, you fucking, you idiot—”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your waist, and then the ground disappears from beneath your feet.

You sag your weight against him as he pulls you forward through the smoke. Something shears bright against your face and you tuck down into his chest, both of his arms keeping you tucked away from a sudden blaze of light and heat. There’s a crash from behind you, then another in front, and suddenly beautiful, clean, cold air is rushing at your skin, pulling your hair free.

Broken glass crunches under your feet as they finally meet the ground. The arm around your waist releases you, and he’s gone.

You blink in the bright sun. You’re outside. Then all the noise rushes back in, and there are new arms around you.

“Hey! We got another one, get her out of here…”

“Are you okay?” someone is saying, their safety hat-shadowed face close to yours.

“Careful of the bleeding. Here, take her,” comes another voice. You can barely hear them under the wail of sirens.

“She’s in shock,” the first person says, and there’s a hand on your arm, pulling you forward, toward the ambulances and fire engines lined up across the street. You look back over your shoulder. They’ve cordoned off the entire block. There’s ash in your mouth, and you nearly stumble.

The person holding you pauses, turning back toward you. “What? Did you say something?” They’re half-shouting to be heard. They’re just a blur, like a stranger in a dream.

You stare at them. It feels like your face is doing something incredibly interesting. Did you say something? The ash is gritty like sand against your teeth, on your tongue.

“I need to get back inside,” you hear yourself saying now, quiet and clear, your voice disconnected from your mouth. You need to get back into the building. You need to.

“What?”

Then you’re shoving at the hand on your arm, twisting out of their grip. Someone shouts out with alarm behind you, and you’re running, clumsily, tripping over rubble as you throw yourself back toward the police barricade blocking the entrance to the building.

“Stop! You can’t go in there!”

You don’t care. You’re not leaving him.

Which is when there’s a shriek of metal overhead. You and everybody else on the street look up just in time to watch every remaining window on the top half of the building explode outward in shards of skin-melting heat.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #the amazing spider-man fanfiction #the amazing spider-man fanfic #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fanfic #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine

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alwaysmoncheri · 1 month

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

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

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

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literaila · 6 months

Text

i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

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

“the couch would never betray me.”

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

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“the couch would never betray me.”

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

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

“you can’t sleep here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

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

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

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

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

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

“you could’ve called.”

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

“not to me.”

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

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

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i learned from the best.”

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

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

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

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sincericida · 2 months

Note

Do you have any favorite Peter smut fics to recommend? I'm in need something spicy! I'll take anything you can think of!

Dear, if you want to turn up your temperature with some of the smut fics I’ve read recently, here are a few:

So, So Mean, by @lovelettersforthedamned

Smitten, Peter's Angel, The Ruler and The Killer, Peter and a Cam Girl, Enraptured, Doing so Well, Not so Innocent, The Goddess, In The Dark, Cheating With Peter, Phone Sex, and my favorite ever Back to Basics, by @blooming-violets

Love on the Brain: Sugar & Vice, vol 2, Sugar and Vice, Sweet Dreams, These Violet Delights, by @liz-allyn

Bondage, Mattress Acting, by @reysdriver

August Slipped Away by @peterthepark

Symbiote mini series by @mrshipsmcgee

Florence series by @periprose

Dulcet by @jamespottersdaisy

Quiet Temptations by @parkerpeter24

Sparks Fly by @mortwig

Jawbreaker by @witchywcmans

The Angel In The Garden of Evil series, In Your Boss’s Office, Professor Peter Parker by @backtothefanfiction

'Til Kingdom Come by @pedrito-friskito

Masterlist of @withahappyrefrain

This fic of @deviouz

Going to The Edge of Heaven by @multifandomworldsposts

Another Love series by @abibliophobiaa

Too Close For Comfort by @lovelettersforthedamned

Thick and Thin by @ficthots

Daddy Issues seeries by @venus616

I’m Holding my Breath for You by @lxinesux

There must be others I’ve read, but I’ve read so much fanfic… You must find more things in this tag [peter parker fanfic] that I usually put in the fics I reblogged.

Thank you to all the writers on Tumblr!

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luveline · 10 months

Note

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

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writtenbymoonflower · 4 months

Text

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

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Note

♫ 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—

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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 · 6 months

Text

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

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spiderfunkz · 8 days

Note

all i can think abt is tasm!peter in his room listening to music and stitching up his suit 😞

in my head he’s a smiths and mcr fan

this is soooo real!!! slow days with peter where he just plays music in the background as he stitches up his suit & you're on his bed reading his messy journal entries, it's quiet, the weather is perfect, the sun isn't too bright, and you're enjoying each others presence.

small blurb ahead, not proofread.

new york is always busy and loud. no matter what time it was or how the weather is, the city never sleeps.

though this particular afternoon was quiet. maybe it was because the music peter was playing, the old cd player still works to your surprise, or maybe it was because you were so focused on peter's old journal he let you read.

"oh this ones funny. april 19th, a year ago." you giggled. peter hummed, "what did i say?" — "dear diary, today i was in a rush to class. instead of grabbing my pencil, i stupidly grabbed the banana on the counter beside it. i think i was half-asleep because i didn't question the texture difference until i stepped foot in the class holding a half opened banana."

"that wasn't me," peter shook his head. "i would never write 'dear diary' at the start of my entry."

"but you would bring a half opened banana?"

peter nodded his head.

you lay back down at the bed. flipping through the pages of the journal. peter had his glasses on, which you think is adorable, he doesn't wear it that often though. he thinks it's nerdy but thankfully you like nerds. obviously.

"ooh i like this song." you commented.

"everyone likes the smiths," peter stated. "no one likes it as much as me though." he smiled at you, rather threatening-ly.

"okay.. do they help you focus?" you raided your brow. peter was still looking at you, "yeah.."

"really? the hole you're trying to stitch is getting bigger, peter."

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emocheremuha · 21 days

Text

dig me right into the hole if I die here, I won't feel anymore and my words get all choked up in my mouth in a tunnel I'll swell up, filled with doubt

#digital artist #artists on tumblr #spideypool #artwork #deadpool #spideypool fanart #amazing spider man #peter parker #wade wilson #inspired by fanfiction #the tangled web we weave

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reverieblondie · 1 month

Text

Neighbors

Chapter 4: Via the Window

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Eludes to voyeurism kink but nothing explicit.

Summary: It's time you thank Spider-Man properly...

A/N: I hope you enjoy the update! Hoping to get these out more frequently!

Word Count: 2,392

‘If I shut my blinds you won’t know where to come get your thank you.’

‘Thank me how’?

‘Come by Monday night and find out?’

‘I will swing by then’

Your Sunday has been spent in two ways. One you had taken the time to get ready for your first week of school. Write out your schedule and figure out what buildings your classes would be in. Best to prepare for your first day to eliminate any surprises that could occur. Two, and far more nerve-wracking; you kept talking with Spider-Man through notes via your window. At the time leaving notes and checking every few hours for a new message from your pen pal was an exciting experience. It was a thrill to get a new message when you weren't even able to catch a glimpse of him! How could he even be that sneaky?

Well now it’s Monday and you're having to reflect on your messages…

You said you wanted to thank him, but now that it's Monday you find yourself playing with the last note he left you. You're still trying to wrack your brain for ideas, but you can’t sit and stir forever. You have a big day ahead! As you're getting ready to leave for school you're double, triple checking that you have your things and that you look decent. Going from the living room to your bedroom, back to the living room to the bathroom like a madman. Once you scramble into the kitchen to make a bottle of water, it clicks. Turning towards your admittedly out-of-date oven the brilliant idea hits, cookies!

Who doesn’t like cookies? Maybe it's a bit old-fashioned or maybe he doesn’t like sweets, but it's the thought that counts right? Just a nice thankful gesture right? Well, there are other thankful gestures you could do for him…But you quickly shake away the thought, you don’t even really know him best not to cross any boundaries; not yet at least.

Getting your mind off of…activities you check your phone and see that you need to leave, don’t want to risk being late on your first day. Doing one last run you check yourself and your things. Before you exit your apartment you find yourself going to your window on pure impose, checking it one last time before you leave. A part of you wishes you would see him swinging by like he's checking on you but you know you won’t catch him.

Walking out of your apartment you look over to Peter's apartment. You haven’t seen him since your moment together in the laundry room. Admittedly you take your time locking your door for the off chance Peter would be leaving his apartment at the same time as you. Though you quickly come to find that your day is not going to start with seeing a brave hero or your annoyingly cute neighbor, that's not going to be a damper on your day. Walking to school making sure to stay out of the bike lane you open your phone and start looking up cookie recipes.

As expected the first day of classes was nothing more than a lot of info dumping about the class and all the materials needed to be successful in the class. Yes, it is easy to just sit and listen but that doesn’t mean it's any less tiring to have to go through. Taking a stretch you feel your muscles stretch and hear your bones softly popping. Just have to go to the store then you can get your little thank you gift for spidy going. The thought of seeing him leaves a giddy feeling to swell in your stomach. But that is soon interrupted when you see a familiar face walking past.

Well, well if it isn't your odd neighbor, of course he didn’t mention you two go to the same university, typical…

“Peter!”, you call out

In an instant, he's stopping and turning to meet your eyes with a somewhat surprised look on his face, though there is a slight hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. You quickly approach him making your way past the swarm of other exhausted college students.

“You know this is starting to get a bit frequent, first the elevator, then the laundry room, now here. Are you following me?” He teases with an annoyingly adorable smile.

“Yeah, if I’m going to stalk anyone it would be a celebrity, not my random neighbor.”

“You would stalk someone? Bad girl…”

The teasing nickname sends a rush over your spine but you must resist, he's insufferable…and adorable…dammit.

Ignoring the comment you kept the conversation moving, “You know most people mention if they go to the same school as someone else they know.”

He shrugs, “True, but that kills the fun of you having to figure it out.”

“Oh, so fun Pete”

“You're welcome. Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah, I was heading home, well going to go to the store then home.”

Peter smiles as he adjusts his backpack, “I was also heading home, you want some company for the trip?” - Well isn't this a friendly change?

“Sure.”

Now you have eggs and sugar, but chocolate chips, flour, brown sugar, and vanilla extract you need to buy. Just to find them is the issue, this store Peter took you to is different from the one you have started to get accustomed to. Peters runs off to grab something, leaving you to wander down the aisles by yourself, so much for his company...

As you browse down the aisle something catches your eye and it's staring in your direction. Two men seem to be whispering and glancing in your direction. You turn to see if they are looking behind you but nothing seems to be odd enough to catch any attention. Facing them again you see they have slid closer and you're starting to feel nervous that it may be you that is catching their attention, but why?

Is there something on your face? Are they staring at your basket? Are you doing something wrong? You're starting to become uneasy as you do your best to just ignore them. They are whispering amongst themselves and you just keep your eyes forward, just ignore them, and let them walk past you.

As the men start to walk in your direction a sudden warmth then wraps around you for a second you're frightened but as you look to see who has their arm wrapped around you you see Peter's striking profile.

“There you are, did you find all the ingredients?”

You look at him confused and he just winks before holding you tighter, sliding his hands to hold you in a hug as his chin rests on your shoulder. The feeling sends a rush down your spine. It's all so quick and confusing, why is he holding you? Did he see you were nervous? Turning you see Peter staring at the two men who had been approaching you up. But now seeing that Peter is with you they quickly scurry away.

Once they are gone Peter's warmth leaves you and there is a zipping of your bag and things start to click.

With a smirk, Peter ruffles your hair and you glare at him.

“You need to pay attention before you get pickpocketed.”

Swatting away his hands he smiles before grabbing your basket and heading towards the register. You bite back a smile and take a second to fix your hair before following him.

“You know I could have carried my bags”

“No, no, it's fine. If my aunt May found out I walked home with someone without helping with the groceries I might just get disowned.”

“Oh? Is that where you learned to be so chivalrous?” you say mockingly as you unlock your door.

After a little effort with the old lock, you get the door open and gesture for Peter to step in. As he steps inside and you see him looking around you realize he's the first guest you have had in your apartment. Taking the groceries from him you start putting away things you don’t need and taking out the things you do.

“You keep staring around at the place, are you not impressed by my decorating skills?”

“Actually smarty pants, I am impressed, might need you to come over and help me with my place. You even managed to get the mildew smell out.”

You smile then turn on your oven with a turn to the old dial, “I charge by the hour and am very bossy. I will warn you”

Peter's eyes flash with mischief, “I wouldn't mind that…”

Folding your arms over your chest you look at him confused, is he flirting? Peter's confidence starts to falter as he rubs the back of his neck trying to ignore the budding tension in the small kitchen. Looking at your counter he sees all the ingredients out.

“Making something?” -smooth change the subject

“I am, just some cookies for a…Friend?” that is technically what you are doing…but can you call Spider-man a friend? You two are friendly but friends? Before you can get wrapped up in thought Peter is speaking up.

“Friend? Judging from how you say it, I assume you two are very close.”

Start to take out your measuring cups and recipe. You roll your eyes at him, “He's a new friend, well acquaintance…”

Peter eyes your hands as you start to place everything down. His eyes on you are starting to make you slightly nervous…but in a good way…where it feels like a rush, “I'm an acquaintance and neighbor.”

“Well, he helped me with something.”

“Um, I carried your groceries and took care of a spider for you.”

“I thought you were carrying my groceries so you wouldn't be disowned, and if I recall you called me dramatic about the spider.”

Peter thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Playful banter between friends.”

Wow, he wants cookies. Letting out a sigh you look at his smirking face trying not to smile. “Do you like chocolate chip?”

“That's my favorite.” -of course it is…

Peter then gives you one more smile before grabbing his bag to leave. “Well, I will leave you to it. Thank you.”

“Oh get cookies then leave?”

“I have a deadline, unfortunately, those spider-man pictures won’t edit themselves”

The mention of the hero's name causes you to perk up, as Peter is heading towards the door you muster up the courage to ask him about it. “Do you think maybe I could see some of your pictures sometime?”

Peter adjusted his bag on his shoulder opening the door, “Bring the cookies and you can look through all my photos. Later.”

Carefully you tie a neat blue bow on the bag to make sure it stays closed. Finally, you got the cookies done and to your credit, they are probably the best cookies you have ever made. Thank you internet for all the baking tips!

Looking out the window you see it is very late and it's time to get ready for bed after all your hard work. Stepping into your room you go to shut the curtains so you can get changed, but as you go to shut the curtains you have a stray thought…what if he's watching out there…swallowing your dry throat you keep the curtain open and turn your back to your window. He said he would be by later… it's later…

With trembling hands, you lift your shirt over your head dropping it to the floor as you shake your hair out.

Is he out there…

Sliding your hands down your body you start undoing your pants slowly, your body feels hot and you can feel your face flushing to a bright red as you strip down to your underwear, closing your eyes you go to slide down your panties.

The thought of his gloved hands roaming across your skin, the feeling of his weight and warmth pushed against you, stomach tying into knots and with a deep breath you open your eyes looking over your shoulder, and you see…

Nothing…

Whipping your hand down your face you quickly grab your pajamas and put them on. What were you doing stripping like he would be watching…Ugh, that is so embarrassing! You don’t know him and here you are getting horny like a fangirl, get a grip on yourself! You need to start meeting more people so you stop fantasizing about superheroes… maybe Peter has friends…or maybe Peter…

No! Not crossing that line, he's the only person you know in this city you can’t go mucking that up! No way! Off limits!

Walking to the kitchen you look at the two bags of cookies, Peters you will drop off tomorrow. A smile stretches to your lips, you two have become something akin to friends. It's a relief to have him not hate your guts still snarky though…but funny. Maybe you will run into him at school again…

Turning to the other back you feel your heart race increase, Spidys cookies… You hope that he enjoys these. There is the chance he might find this as a lame gift, you can only imagine what kinds of gifts he receives after saving people. Have others made him treats? Giving him money? Presents? Something else…would he want that…You swallow your dry throat and quickly write a note attaching it to the bag to keep your mind busy.

Do spiders enjoy sweets? - you include a doodle of a spider seemingly eating a cookie.

Hopefully, he likes them and isn’t disappointed by the thank you.

Walking over and opening the window there is a slight breeze that sends a chill through you. You wish you could leave the window open tonight to enjoy the breeze but you know better. Placing the bag of treats on the window seal you adjust the note and the bow so they look perfectly placed. Once set you look out into the glimmering lights of the city taking in the breeze, the sights, the noises, but that's when you hear a clearing of a throat. Looking up you see that iconic mask, body clinging to the wall as he looks down at you.

“You have a thank you for me?” his voice coos

You forget all about your cookies…

Tags:

@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay @juliluvhz @avareadsthings @xxrougefangxx @briviny @llpovi @beautyb1ade @lulawantmula @kikieatshomophobes

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astxroiid · 1 month

Text

manhattan longing // tasm!peter parker

❥ tender hands, late nights, secrets, falling from great heights.

wc: 1.1k

navigation ✩ new york private life (I) ✩ empire state of mind (II)

Peter Parker never thought a wall looked so good to punch. Sitting backwards on your toilet while you shakily stitch up a gash on his back does that to a man.

The adrenaline from the fall wore off and Peter realized he probably didn't just land on the concrete of the sidewalk.

Plus, the glass you ungraciously pulled from his wound answered any doubt.

Speaking of ungracious, the needle in his back was definitely not forming and sort of straight lines.

Peter clutches the toilet lid like a vice. Knuckles turning white and head feeling light from how long he's been holding his breath.

"Okay, this should be the last one," the tone in your voice makes him feel awful for the pain he's feeling. He can here the sadness in your voice, how bad you feel for hurting him.

You push through his skin, pulling the stitch tight and cutting the string. Peter intakes a breath, attempting to dig his nails into the porcelain he's wrapped himself around.

You set the needle on the counter, both peter and you letting out a long awaited breath. His shoulders slump. You slowly reach up, running a thumb over healed scars, all white and jagged.

"Do you fall on glass often?" Your tone is soft and close to a whisper.

Peter turns his head to the side, looking at you over his shoulder. "No, I...." he pauses, attempting to think of a good excuse. Though, you don't know that. "I used to, uhm, box. Yeah. It was intense."

"Oh," you frown slightly, tilting ur head.

You back up, allowing Peter to stand. He turns to face you, revealing a forgotten scar on his chest.

It's long. It spans from his collar bone diagonally to the bottom of his rib cage and it's almost an inch wide.

"Peter," you whisper. "There's no way you got that boxing."

Peter quickly grabs his shirt off the counter, pulling it over his head. "That one's not, I don't really wanna talk about it."

Shame. Shame and embarrassment crash over you like a cold wave. Why the fuck did i mention it?!

You look down at your hands, digging your nails into the sides of each other. "Sorry, I didn't mean to over step."

"No, nonono, don't be sorry. It's okay," Peter smiles at you and, in one spontaneous moment, he's brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

His heart is pounding in his chest. Fear of pushing a boundary crawling up his body.

Your cheeks are warm and before you know it, your hand is holding his against your face, thumb rubbing his knuckles.

"You're so sweet, Peter Parker."

Fucking kiss her!

You let your fingers trail along his arm, trying to give him a hint he can pick up on.

Fucking kiss me!

It's the perfect time too. God her smile. And her hands, they're so soft, and gentle. Loving in a way he never knew he needed.

"Thank you for fixin' me up," Peter gives a lopsided smile, pulling his hand back to his side.

A cold absence takes hold of where his hand once was.

"Of course," you give a flat smile. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

You offer Peter to stay the night, again saying it's the least you can do in repayment of his heroic act.

You both end up on the couch, curled up watching tv. Again, seeing a couple embrace and feeling the same longing from the other day.

You move to lay your head on Peter's shoulder, letting his arm wrap around you, and sighing into him. Comfort overtakes your body as you sink further into him, slowly running your hand up and down his forearm.

His heart is pounding in his chest. Nerves shaking his hands and his thoughts. "y/n?"

This is it. I'm finally gonna kiss her.

"Yes?"

And with the sweet, sleepy tone of your voice he feels all his confidence start to fizzle. His brain short-circuits trying to come up with a cover up.

"D'you wanna go to bed?"

"Yeah," you yawn, pushing further into him.

Pete leads you from the living room to your bedroom, making sure to turn all the lights off along the way. He pauses once you reach the bedroom, not sure where to go.

You turn and walk up to him, grinning. You place a hand on his chest, feeling his pulse increase.

Peter has no idea what to do. His heart is in his throat, hands tingling.

You let your hand slide up his torso and to the back of his neck, getting as close as you can to him. Peter gulps, looking from your eyes to your lips then back again.

Time seems to stand still, neither of you breathing nor looking away from each other. You tangle your fingers into the brown curls and the nape of Pete's neck, twirling them.

Finally, you pull Peter down to you fully. You kiss him the intensity of the sun. He immediately reciprocates. Your bodies instantly meld into one. Finding their way to the bed and laying you down on your back.

Peter Parker is hovering above you, smiling like an idiot. The same Peter Parker that you loved way back in ninth grade. You were both fourteen, both idiots. The Peter above you now is the same one that fell off the jungle gym in gym class in second grade and blamed you for distracting him.

All the memories swell in your mind, bubbling into one thought you can't help from leaving your lips.

"I have loved you for a long time, Peter Parker."

Peter's eyes go wide, head tilting towards you. "You, what?"

"Have loved you for a long time. since ninth grade to be exact," you state seriously.

You've said it twice and yet, he still can't process it. You notice and try to help him out. You push him over on his side, moving yourself the same way.

"When we were both fourteen, we went on a school field trip to the Empire State Building. We all got to go to the top, but i was afraid of heights. So, you held my hand and told me-"

"If you fall, I'll fall with you," both of you repeat together. And in a crazy twist of fate, you both did fall together.

"I've loved you ever since then."

Peter grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss. Souls connecting into one like two water drops.

He can't believe it. You. You've loved him from the same moment he loved you, and after all this time, you made it back to each other. Falling harder than ever.

remember: likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs are the desire. Remember they do more for authors and tumblrs than a like ever could.

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frost-queen · 3 months

Text

Starcrossed lovers // part 2 (Reader x Peter Parker) NWH

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @minimin1993, @narniansmagic, @benonlinear, @canthebest1, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog, @thewhitewolfmarvel, @freek12569

Summary: The battle is ending as you finally have a sight of why Peter was so drawn to you. Can you rewrite the stars or will they remain unchanged forever? [ part 1 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 ]

You gasped looking up. A sandstorm picked up as broken off pieces of the structure got lifted up in the air. From your position on the ground, you could easily see the battle. All three Peter’s swinging on their web. Peter, your Peter was focused on Green Goblin. Peter two focusing on Lizard.

Peter three avoiding a bolt of electricity. They were so occupied they didn’t had eyes for what was happening behind them. Eyes widening you saw the broken off pieces fly towards Peter three. You ran out from your hiding position. – “Peter!” – you screamed loud, gaze upwards.

Peter three’s eyes widened hearing your voice. As if his spider tingle was tuned on finding your voice blindly. His immediate reaction was to look down to you. – “Peter!” – you screamed again pointing upwards. Peter’s gaze went back up, looking back in horror at the flying piece of structure coming his way.

He shot a web swinging past it just in time. His action made him nearly bump against Peter one, your Peter. Peter three was dangling sloppy and out of balance. He shot another web directing him to vast ground on the construction. He needed to find his balance again.

His feet touched vast ground as he stumbled a bit forwards. Ned moving out of the way just in time. – “What are you doing the battle is up there.” – Ned called out. Peter grabbed onto the railing, shooting Ned a glare out of breath. MJ slapped him hard against the arm. – “You try fighting off all those villains.” – MJ said coming to his defence.

Peter saluted her before jumping on the railing and leaping into the depts. MJ came running over to the railing, greeted by a tumbling Peter in the air as his web had released. Strange was on top as a piece of construction went his way.

He quickly opened a portal as it flung through it. Another portal opened closer to the ground. Surprised you looked up, eyes wide in horror. A piece of structure slowly falling down. You started to scream, running to a direction, hoping you’d be fast enough to not get squashed. – “Y/n!” – Peter one called out in a panic.

“On it!” – Peter two replied setting himself off to jump down. He kept falling till he shot out a web. Changing his position to swing fast, opening an arm. He lifted his feet up so they wouldn’t scrape the ground as he flung low.

With a loud oof where you grabbed and lifted up in the air with him. – “Careful out there Y/n.” – he said with a soft chuckle. – “Blame Strange.” – you mumbled out. Peter two came to a stop further away. He let go of you. – “Go hide!” – he ordered before launching himself back in the air.

You ran to some rubble, finding a hiding spot in between. There you waited for the battle to come to an end. Hoping Strange wouldn’t drop another boulder on you. While you waited, unconsciously were you pulled back to the feeling when you fell.

The fear making your muscles tense. Then that warm feeling came when Peter caught you. Somehow when you were in his arms, your fear faded away. Seeing the fear and heartbreak in his eyes made you yearn to comfort him.

Being with him was like a movie you had seen before. Something close yet out of reach. There was no denying the way his presence made you feel. Feel visible. With Peter, your Peter you were visible too, but not that much.

You very much felt like a side-character watching the main one’s have a wonderful life as you faded out into nothingness. Only being present when you were requested. Sometimes you felt lonely around your friends. Almost as if you were that one person just too much.

It wasn’t a great feeling. With Peter, Peter three you didn’t felt that way. It felt like you were actually mattered. A feeling you wanted to hold onto for as long as it could.

Everyone made their way down as the battle had been stilled. Peter one had held MJ to bring her down safely. Ned was with Strange as Peter two and three joined. MJ and Peter hugged tightly. Ned exhaled relieved running up to them. Peter three looked around worried.

“Y/n? Where is Y/n?” – he said in a bit of a panic. You hear your name, moving a fallen plate out of your way to clear your way. - “Peter!” – you called out as three heads turned your way. You came out of your hiding place now that the battle had toned down. – “Y/n.” – Peter said from your earth relieved.

You started to run up to them beyond relieved that no one was too injured. Perhaps a few bruises. He smiled opening his arms a bit to you, ready to receive a hug from you. Yet his smile faltered when you ran past him to another Peter. You swung your arms around Peter three as they liked to call him and spun around with him as he hugged you tightly back.

Peter, your Peter gaped confused at you. Peter two came by his side placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Peter three had his hand against the back of your head. – “Are you hurt?” – he asked setting you back down. You shook your head, presenting your good state to him.

“All clear.” – you joked making him smile saddened. – “Peter.” – Strange called out. Peter three lowered his head knowing what was to come. Tilting your head a bit, you watched Peter carefully. – “Why are you sad?” – you asked.

He lifted his head up with a teary smile. – “You gave me something I could only dream off.” – he told you letting his thumb brush against your cheek. You smiled genuinely back at him. – “Peter.” – Strange persisted on, waiting to send him back. Peter’s smile faded knowing he’d never get to see you again.

MJ picked up on the way Peter was looking at you. It made him look at her own Peter for a moment. – “You lost someone didn’t you?” – she asked out of the blue. Peter lifted his head up to her, surprised. He then nodded saddened. – “I…I did…” – he answered. His hand slid down as his head lowered briefly. – “I…I lost your MJ…” – he gestured at your Peter. – “My… my Y/n.” – he swallowed down the knot in his throat.

You blinked surprised to him, hearing your name out of his mouth. Suddenly it was all so clear. The feeling why you felt so attracted to Peter. Like magnets. Your first reaction was to throw your arms around him and embrace him. Wanting to be close to him.

Peter hugged you tightly back. He didn’t want the feeling to end. Neither did you. – “Peter! Say your final goodbye’s.” – Strange called out. It made you pull away. – “Can’t… can’t he stay?” – you asked as his hand was still on your lower back. Strange shook his head. – “No kid, this world can’t have two spiderman. He belongs on his earth, where they need a spiderman like him.” – Strange explained.

Peter and you looked at each other. – “What if…” – Peter started as you finished off his words. – “What if I come with him?” – you suggested. – “What?” – Peter called out, your Peter. – “Y/n you can’t be serious!” – he called out walking up to you. – “You belong here with us!” – he made perfectly clear.

“Do I Peter?” – you answered back. You turned away from your Peter, back to Strange. – “I can come with him right? He lost his Y/n, so it wouldn’t create a paradox, right?” – you explained. – “Kid…” – Strange began as you knew he was going to tell you no.

“That’s not how it works. The you from his world is no more. You don’t belong there. I’m sorry.” – he told you. – “There must be a way?” – Peter three exclaimed. – “There isn’t!” – Strange answered snappy. Peter, your Peter was pulling on your wrist, pulling you away from him. – “No… please…” – you begged reaching out to Peter. Peter knew he was being selfish but he wanted you.

He missed you so deeply, he couldn’t imagine a world without you. Peter reached back for you. You broke free from Peter’s grip, running up to him. You clamped yourself onto him, not wanting to let go. – “I just want you.” – you told him. Peter held tightly onto you, afraid he might lose you again if he loosened his grip on you. – “I love you Y/n. On every earth.” – he told you as you slowly felt his grip loosen.

Confused you stumbled a bit forwards at the loss of a grip. With glossy eyes your arms embraced yourself. Crying you fell to your knees. Peter, your Peter approached you placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You brushed it off, wanting nothing of him. Strange had finished the spell without anyone knowing.

Peter stumbled forwards, looking confused at his empty hands. – “No…no…n-n-no…” – he stumbled out grabbing the air, wanting to feel your last touch. – “Nooo!” – he cried out dropping to his knees. Strange had finished the spell. Sending him back to his earth alone. It felt more dreadful knowing he had you back, just to be taken away.

Once again his heart began to bleed with sorrow and grief. Grief overtaking him so badly, he started to hyperventilate in the abandoned alleyway. This was torture. After a while he dragged himself back to his house. Aunt May looking worriedly up.

“Where have you…” – she was about to scold him when she noticed the stained tears on his cheek. She immediately ran up to him, embracing him for comfort. – “I’ve lost her again…” – he said to Aunt May as she furrowed her brows.

She moved some hair aside to sooth him. She knew how hard your death had fallen upon him. Peter went to his bedroom letting himself fall onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he felt like spinning. – “I’ve lost you once, but not again…” – he told himself.

“I’ll find a way… even if it is the last thing I do.” – he rolled over to his side, his gaze falling on the many pictures of you and him on his wall. – “Come back to me…” – he said with a tiny crack in his voice.

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