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denkineptune · 1 year

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Tread Carefully

Pairing: neighbour!Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is used to being led on and then let down in love which leads to her not quite believing just how much Peter likes her.

Set after the events in No Way Home! As always, Peter is aged up to be in his early-mid twenties.

A/N: This one goes out to the all the girls who have been made to feel crazy when they’ve been led on by someone who suddenly loses interest. You are valid and you deserve so much better (and someone like Peter in this fic <3)!!

Feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

Whilst others seem to fall into love quite easily, for you it was always like trying to catch fire in a jar. Never successful, getting burned in the process and eventually the jar melting with all the exposure to further render your attempts useless.

Such carelessness with your emotions had led you to a solitary existence. The mere suggestion of reciprocated feelings had made you strategic and forceful, putting pressure on every encounter with a prospective lover in hopes that one day you might secure love.

Naturally, the pressure would snap any cord of bond you might have with someone and there you were, left again without any recourse. A scorned woman.

This wasn’t always your fault. Often, you’d bestow your emotions upon someone unworthy. Gaslighted with a promise of something real, you’d pursue these people only to be bitterly disappointed with a frank conversation where they confessed that you were great but all the same, not good enough.

Enter Peter Parker, your sweet neighbour who moved in next door a few months ago and brought with him a little spark that had you giddy.

The day he had moved in, he just seemed so out of his depth and alone. With the door open, he’d stood in the middle of his apartment looking round at the admittedly small number of boxes he had. Nevertheless, he looked entirely overwhelmed and frozen, struggling to even take the first step to open any of them.

You’d just finished grocery shopping as you walked past, peering in quickly when you came across the open door. From where you were standing, viewing his slumped shoulders and helpless face, it looked like he was going to cry. He looked so lost and you were sure that your help was exactly what he needed.

So, you came to the rescue. Announcing your presence, you offered your help which he reluctantly accepted. One by one, you worked your way through the boxes and worked together to set out his things the way he’d like them. At first, he was wary of you but grew more comfortable as you took things at his pace, never pressuring or hastening him.

You cooked him dinner, noting that his fridge hadn’t been stocked up yet. He asked you for coffee the next day as a thank you.

Coffee dates became dinner dates which naturally slipped into taking turns to make dinner for each other every night. He was so convenient being next door and had explained being new to the area that he had no one else really. Naturally, he gradually began to intertwine himself within your plans until you had become inseparable. Not that you minded, you hadn’t been this infatuated in a long time.

You did everything “right”.

You nurtured your feelings, trying to keep them on a leash to prevent them leaping out of control. You were calm and collected around him, allowing yourself to freak out about him after you said goodbye for the night. You made allowances for him in your plans yet didn’t hedge your bets on having to actually plan around him.

Yet, you still expected him to let you down. Some dark, twisted and nasty corner of your brain still told you that you were holding on to false hope. You had let people in before only to have them ridicule you for ever thinking that something could happen. For all you knew, Peter could be - and probably was - just the same as the rest of them.

Although, surprisingly, he hadn’t let you down to date. He always turned up on time when he said he would, except for that one rare exception that he had to cancel. Even at that, he was following up with you to reschedule and even planned and paid for the whole date because he felt so bad about having to miss your plans.

He let you touch him and he allowed himself to touch you. When your thighs lingered as you sat next to each other, he didn’t move away or sit in clear discomfort. Contentedly, he’d continue his story while you sat, completely mesmerised by the fact he’d allowed you a crumb of intimacy with just a simple gesture.

When this inevitably went downhill, it was going to kill you.

***

Winter had taken over the city. The restaurants and shops below your apartment had started to decorate their storefronts with festive lights which teamed up with the streetlights to create a cosy light in a cruelly cold and dark night.

It was Peter’s turn to cook that night. He stood at the stove making mac and cheese in plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt that although oversized, still managed to show his muscular shoulders.

You sat on his couch flicking through Netflix to find a suitable Christmas movie for your night in. As the snow began to fall outside, you wrapped the blanket round you tighter and excited yourself with the idea of cuddling up to Peter to keep warm. Peter hummed as he plated up the food; it was his Aunt May’s recipe and he’d raved about it for weeks, insisting he would make it for you.

You tried not to read into the fact he was letting you into something he’d shared with his aunt who had been more like his mother. Nor did you read into the fact that the blanket wrapped round you was one you hadn’t been able to stop touching in the store because of how soft it was. He’d bought it so he could see the big grin on your face as you smoothed your hands down it.

“You really love that thing, don’t you?” Peter commented with a sweet smile as he handed you the plate.

“It’s just so soft! How did they make it so soft?” You beamed in response.

“I don’t know, but you look really cute with it wrapped round you.” He smiled, facing the TV and taking a bite before saying the all too familiar yet equally dreadful sentence.

“I think we should talk.”

It was so out of left field and so unexpected. The horrible yet familiar feeling of dread sat deep in your stomach and destroyed your earlier appetite for a home cooked meal. Setting your plate down, you took a deep breath in anticipation of what he was going to say next. You had to give it to him, ending this over his beloved aunt’s recipe was a new low in your experience of rejections.

“Sure.” Was the only response you could muster without it sounding like you were dying inside at the very notion Peter could end all of this.

“Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, right?”

Oh God. This really was it. Now was the time for the usual chat. He’d come out with some drawl about how even though you had spent every day together, ate together, slept together, treated each other like boyfriend and girlfriend, that it was of course, casual and you were irrational to think anything different. In the heat of the moment, frenzied by embarrassment, you’d agree and tell him you’d even prefer to be friends. Then over the coming months, the dejection would slowly eat away at you as you’d overanalyse the memories and consider what you should have looked for to ascertain that this would never be a serious relationship. Good enough for a fling, but not quite enough for a substantive commitment.

It was going to be a long and lonely winter.

“Yeah, two and a half months to be exact.” You stated, as if for a court record to build your case on just how much of your time he had wasted before he was about to throw this genuine and beautiful connection away. Peter merely chuckled at your matter-of-fact manner, oblivious to your serious tone.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfriend?” He asked nervously, watching you with a hopeful smile.

Admittedly, your reaction was in fact, irrational.

“Sorry, WHAT?!” You yelled back, so taken aback by the question. It was what you wanted to hear but not at all what you expected.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Peter tried to explain, clearly self-conscious by his choice of timing and now considering what seemed to be a real possibility of you rejecting him. “I just thought that I really love what we have and I wanted to make it official but if you feel differently then-“

You cut him off before he could go any further by lunging over and wrapping your arms round his neck tightly. You held him like he would disappear if you let go. The longer you held on, the more tangible his question became and the more likely you were being validated that this whole thing wasn’t just a one-sided and bittersweet liaison, doomed to fail from the beginning.

Peter chuckled, managing to set his plate down on the coffee table, despite you clinging on to him like a koala. He settled back against the couch, rubbing his hand up and down your back soothingly while you sat still, completely incapable of letting go.

“So… is that a yes?” Peter asked with slight concern in his voice as he tried to measure how long you had been silent for.

“Of course, it’s a yes! I thought you were going to end this!” You confessed. Peter frowned at your response, unsure where you could ever have gotten that idea from. He had tried so hard to not be one of those asshole guys and not lead you on. He started to question whether he should have done anything differently.

“Why would you think that?” His question came with a sweet kiss to your temple. Despite you holding him hostage with a cuddle, he seemed quite content.

The heat of embarrassment claimed your cheeks causing you to nuzzle your face into his neck. This should have been a really happy and carefree moment between you both, and hopefully the beginning of many years together. Yet, your insecurities and past emotional injuries had tainted this.

Perhaps, sharing your intense fear and feelings was going to be too much for Peter. Still, if he was going to be in a relationship with you, he ought to know the truth.

“I just…” You began, sitting back to look him in the eye. “I just never get asked that question.”

Peter looked at you with a mixture of surprise and sadness. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation and he let out a silent “oh”. At first, you thought he was pitying you but then you came to realise that he was just appreciating how big of a deal this was for you.

“I always seem to be the practise run or the casual fling. I never seem to be enough to be the girlfriend. You know?” At this, Peter nodded silently and reached his hand out for you to hold which you gladly took.

“And with you, I’ve been trying so hard not to get overexcited or put too much pressure on you but I really like you, Peter! I’ve been terrified that you’ve wanted to end this for a while now.” You explained further, watching him get confused.

“What did I do that made you think that?” Peter mumbled, his own fears and guilt setting into him. He had been trying so hard to let people in and to think that he was potentially failing was more than a tough pill to swallow.

“Nothing.” You said simply, because it was the truth. He had done nothing wrong.

“It’s just, I let you into my apartment, which was supposed to be just mine. I talked to you about Aunt May, which was really hard for me but I trusted you with it. I… I fell asleep on you. I felt safe enough with you to sleep soundly. I just don’t think I could have done anymore to let you know I was interested.”

The lump in Peter’s throat was evident with his words. This poor, sweet boy had no idea that this was so much bigger than him. It was an injury to your very being that had attached itself to you for all time coming. In truth, Peter had opened up to you and had let you in. On the other hand, all of those boys had done the same thing. They fed you with private and emotional insights then cut off the supply when you dared tried to establish a deeper emotional connection. How were you to tell the difference?

“Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just, not all guys are as genuine as you. They mess with our heads and then call us crazy.” You explained calmly, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles lightly. The words took purchase in Peter’s body and he nodded at you, slightly embarrassed.

“I am sorry you’ve been through that. I just really liked you and wanted to let you in. I have meant it all and I’d really like for you to be my girlfriend.” He smiled, reaching his other hand out to caress your cheekbone. An excited and surprise giggle escaped your lips.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Peter.” You leaned in and kissed him deeply, putting your hands on his cheeks. His hands found your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap. You gladly obliged, not once breaking the kiss. It wasn’t catching fire in a jar. Rather, it was gathering water that easily streamed into the jar – filling it up and adapting to the shape of its keeper without any threat of burning or melting; secured simply with a screw top lid. It was different, fresh and easy.

“Okay,” Peter chuckled as he finally pulled away from the kiss. “Can you please let me know if I made a good job of dinner?”

“Sure thing, boyfriend.” You grinned, giving his lips one last peck before leaning back and retrieving your neglected plate from the table. It was starting to get cold but that didn’t matter. You were going to give it a glowing review anyway.

You draped the blanket over the two of you and cuddled into him, no longer afraid to show him just how keen you were. He hummed happily at this, turning to gently kiss your temple. Your mind and body relaxed, content in the knowledge that you need not tread carefully around your Peter.

Finally, someone genuine.

#reblog #AMAZING

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