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rowniebow · 5 months

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2023 Fic Recommendations

A list of all my favorite fics that I read this year that I wanted to share. Many of them and more can be found under my “fic rb” tag. A lot of them are also available on AO3. Please read any and all warnings and tags on fics and respect any boundaries writers may have.

Peter Parker

The very first one of this year was and they were roommates by @rowniebow. A sweet, gay story that I loved and hold dearly. Summary: peter parker and y/n y/l/n are roommates, and if there’s anything to know about them it’s that they hate living together.

The next is Florence by @periprose. An ongoing multi-chaptered fic. It’s great every time I see a new update. Every turn is incredible as they deal with reconciliation and a few wedding mishaps. Summary: You and Peter Parker are former childhood best friends. As next door neighbours, you and him spent a great deal of time together, either at school, playing video games, or during your yearly summer vacations at Florence, Italy. But after you drifted away from him- you both went to different colleges, and you figured you wouldn't need to bother him anymore with your unrequited crush that you had never spoken of but clearly showed symptoms of- things are very awkward. It's even more so when you receive an invitation to Harry and MJ's destination wedding, located at Florence, of course.

Peter B. Parker

A different Peter Parker, all the same love. The first one is it’s rotten work by @cockdestroyer32. It’s soft and incredible. Summary: Peter's been a wreck after his divorce with MJ. Thankfully, you're there to look after him.

Similarly, is an AO3 work called That’s Rough Buddy by Cats_Cradle. Genuinely all the love to ITSV Peter. Navigating through both their individual issues and loneliness together while Peter also deals with hiding Spider-Man was so sweet and soft, at times messy. Summary: In which Peter 'chaotic mess' Parker meets his match. Excerpt: “Heights and alcohol, typically not the best combination.” A male’s voice teased. You bit the inside of your cheek and scowled, turning to bark back an insult at the nosy man. But there was no one on either side of you, which made your anger fizzle into more of an irritated confusion. “Great, now I’m hearing things.” You scoffed and tilted your head back to take another swig from the bottle out of spite. As you tilted your head back though, a blob of red and blue caught your eye. Sticking to the wall above you was none other than your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Miguel O’Hara

I’ve only really got one recommendation for this one and it’s Every You Every Me by @astroboots. I already read and liked some of her other work, this one did not disappoint at all. It was exhilarating and interesting. The buildup, dynamics, and twists were all incredible. Summary: You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you’re saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Matt Murdock

I fell in love with this man this year and it only feels right to start off with @bellaxgiornata. All of her work is incredible but I’m specifically adding Falling For The Devil and All These Years to this list. Both are ongoing series. FFTD is a series that sticks with me and I think about at random times. It’s sweet, fun, angsty, and in the author’s own words, “spicy”. You really get to see the whole relationship develop and them navigate it and life, up and down. ATY is a lot of hurt, a little comfort later on. College, lack of communication (that’s not frustrating to witness), growth and trying to push forward and move on, yet hopeless devoted to another. I stayed up until nearly 4AM reading this one. FFTD Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses. ATY Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Next is Of blood and worship and Go to him, therefore, by the sea by @raelwrites. I love a lot of Rael’s writing, but I’m sticking to these two for this list (as much as I love Gunpowder and cinnamon). Stories about non-humans are awesome. The descriptions and dynamic in Of blood and worship is so good and merman with a human bonding is a classic. Of blood and worship Summary: You, an elderitch horror with a soft spot for humans, are awoken from your slumber by a lonely voice of one young Matt Murdock. You stayed by his side constantly, helping him, keeping him company. And you tried to keep him from knowing you were there. But what would happen if the ever vigilant blind lawyer takes notice of you? Go to him, therefore, by the sea summary: You save an injured merperson in the caverns you frequent often. And now, he's there every time you venture down there. Communicating with the being is hard, but you learn how to talk to each other. A story of longing-

Third is The Key You Wear by @devils-dares. I love a good exes to lovers, people with strained relationships that still deeply care for each other. This is that with some gentle loving. Summary: you get a voicemail from your ex, who is very much not well. you visit him the next day to make sure all is well (spoiler alert: it's not)

Please, Be Okay by @farfromstrange. A classic vigilante trope of worry and concern if your beloved will return, the dread as it doesn’t look like and then a spiral. This one is just incredible. Summary: When Matt doesn't text or answer your calls during a night out, you can't help but suspect the worst.

This one-shot is a little heavier, still a great read. Muted Dawn by @ellephlox. Life’s dangerous, it’s rough, Matt Murdock being around certainly helps a little though. Summary: You get mugged in the middle of the night, but Matt isn't there to save you.

Last of Matt’s is, The End of the World and Everything After by @up-in-space-reading. Blip stories about Matt are always so interesting but this one is so sweet. Loved watching them heal and learn as they continue to build their life together. Summary: Half of the universe is turned into dust because of Thanos. You and Matt were left behind to pick up the pieces of yourselves and try to learn how to live without the most important people in your lives.

Moon Knight

First Moon Knight fic is Small Surprises by @angel-of-the-moons. A sweet fic featuring autistic Steven as he bonds with Reader’s daughter along with the other boys. Eventually they fall in love and the boys fit into her and her daughter’s little domestic life rather easily. For the most part. Ongoing fic. Summary: N/A

A Night to Remember by @xcalciumx. This one is so interesting, especially the demon. Jake reveal combined with a fight against, along with a demon. Summary: A nice night with your boyfriend Marc quickly unveils into chaos. A third altar? A horrifying demon? Your half-assed Egyptian God of Wind and Air, Shu? What could possibly go wrong

not him by @loud-mouth-loser. I love stories of “I love you, you do not. I still love you, regardless.” along with, “the people we love, do not love us” and then they bond over that and cope with it together. Multi-chaptered. Summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.

Last, but not least, is Constellations by @asimplearchivist. A sweet, ongoing series with gentle love and action as the boys grapple with everything post-S1 and falling in love. Their relationship with the Reader is so sweet. The full multi-chaptered fic is available on AO3 to registered users. Summary: steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points.

X-Men

This is section is just to recommend more of Rael’s work. Florentine and Wasurenai by @raelwrites. Both are ongoing multi-chaptered fics with poly relationships. Rael writes dynamics and relationships in a way that I just love. I love their world building too. Florentine Summary: Right so here is the harem-esque royalty au fic (Titled achromatopia) with some of the marvel characters. You are a newly coronated Emperor to the Empire of Nocturnus, having gained the throne after your father's death as well as your mutiny against the heir to the throne. The Empire had gotten corrupt, and you took over to remove that mold from the place. But as an illegitimate child of the former Emperor, you have little to no political influence and have no experience in finances. How could you cover for those flaws? Well, you could get married to all the geniuses you meet... Wasurenai Summary: N/A

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rowniebow · 6 months

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"i don''t wanna get you sick"

from either reader or peter (sorry if you've already written a fic like this)

where’d you get your medical degree

tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings: the ask says it all.

a/n: in lieu of sick season. and because of many illnesses (such as writers block, and insanity) which are preventing me from writing anything serious

“no,” you whine, pushing him away. “don’t touch me.”

peter is looking down at you with an incredulous look on his face. his hair is loose and his eyes are close, and he’s unbelievably pretty. like you have to blink a few times, just to make him appear normal—and a little less blurry.

you think he’s smiling too, but you can’t really see it. you might be dreaming.

“is there any particular reason why not, bub?”

his hands near you again, cold fingertips on your jaw, around your head. you groan and move your face away from them—even though it feels wonderful.

“i don’t know where those hands have been.”

peter snorts. “trust me,” he says, tilting your head back to him, “you do.”

your stomach turns, and suddenly his hands are a saving grace, so you grab both, holding them to your cheeks.

“change your mind?”

“cold,” you sigh, leaning as close as you can get to him.

“you’re burning, love, and not the elvis kind.”

you shake your head, eyes closed. “not funny,” you mutter.

“can you look at me real quick?”

you moan and close your eyes even tighter. “i’m tired, peter. come back when we’re open.”

“just let me see those pretty eyes and then you can sleep. i’ll even get you some comfier clothes. and some water.”

you move your legs around, feeling the stiff polymer pants you wore today, assuming that you wouldn’t be halfway to death by 3pm.

“how bout some ice cream?” you ask, opening one eye.

it is not lost on you that peter is trying to flirt with you. or that he’s frowning.

“your pupils are big,” he says, concisely. “did you get drugged?”

you giggle, moving away from him, his fingertips suddenly ticklish. “yes, from my computer,” you grin at him, closing your eyes again. “at my office job.”

“okay, stoner, what medicine did you take?”

you frown. “none.”

peter is frowning back. you can feel it. but you’re not going to open your eyes, just in case he’s suddenly brushed his hair or something. put on mascara. who knows what lengths peter would go to surprise you.

“wait,” you hold a finger up. “whatever’s in my bag, i think. i took it at work.”

peter sighs, patting your leg before he moves about the room, looking for a purse you must have lost.

you actually can’t really remember how you got home in the first place.

“if your fever gets any worse, we’re going to the doctor.” peter says this from across the room, and you’re pretty sure he’s not even talking to you. “here. this is just acetaminophen. how long ago?”

your face is pushed into the pillow beside you. it smells like peter, so you keep it there.

“loopy, can you just answer this one question?”

“the pillow is speaking to me.”

peter puts a hand on your back. “i am so sure you’re on drugs,” he says, almost adoringly. “the pillow is telling you that you need to clean up. trust me, we’re close. let’s get you into pajamas and then i’ll find you some stuff.”

you don’t move. maybe you didn’t hear him.

“bub,” he says, a bit louder, sterner. “c’mon, it’ll only take a sec.”

“not moving.” your voice is muffled. “ever.”

“how am i supposed to kiss you, then?”

you turn and peek out at him, lip curling at the mention. and then you cough. “you cant kiss me. i’m sick.”

“it’s disappointing that you think that would deter me.”

“if you’re sick how are you supposed to take care of me?”

“i’ll always take care of my baby,” he swears, leaning into you. if you were of right mind you might realize he wants a kiss. you might realize what you want.

but you only nod approvingly, and then smush your face back into his pillow.

peter groans. his hand moves to the back of your head, and he massages your scalp for a moment. “i know those clothes aren’t comfortable,” he pulls at your tight blouse, the one you wear when you want to feel good about yourself and you don’t mind neglecting to breathe. “even though it looks good on you. you’re sweating through it.”

your muffled voice returns: “do i smell?”

it’s a miracle that peter can understand anything you’re saying. “just like you,” he sniffs, “and maybe a bit like coffee? did you spill something on yourself?”

you don’t move. just hum into the pillow, hacking up a lung into it.

peter shakes his head. “i’m gonna need to wash that. up, baby. a shower would help your sinuses, but we’ll change if you’re tired.”

“baby,” you giggle to yourself.

“yes, baby, because you have de-aged significantly in the past hour. do i have to carry you to the closet?” his voice is teasing, but you’re not really sure that you can hear anything.

you finally turn, sitting up so you can look at peter. “am i being difficult?” you ask him, worriedly. your skin has shifted colors, and your voice is more like rock on rock. but you still frown at peter. “i’m sorry. you don’t have to do anything. i can change.”

but as you say it you double over in a coughing fit, and while you can feel peters hand on your back, you’re almost worried he’s already left.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers when you’re silent again, swallowing. “i like taking care of you. though, i’m not loving that cough. do you need some water?”

you look at him, checking his eyes for something that you’d never be able to recognize in this state. and finally you nod, silent.

peter kisses your forehead and leaves for the kitchen.

you sit there, trying to keep your back perfectly straight. even through the overwhelming urge to lay back down in the bed and suffocate in the blankets.

you really just want to smell that pillow some more.

your head is pounding, and you try to remember if you even took that medicine in the first place. how long you’ve been sitting there. if peter even took your temperature in the first place.

but peter is back before you figure it out. “here,” he hands you a glass of water, watching you with narrowed eyes. “drink all of it.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

he glares at you and you smile, sipping on the water.

he smiles back, sitting down next to you and feeling all over your face with his hands. “what’s the status report?”

“still sick, but my mental capacity is coming back.”

“oh good,” peter says, leaning back but not letting go of you. “i was worried when you didn’t laugh at my elvis joke.”

you snort and lean right back into him, your head against his chest. he smells a lot better than cheap cotton.

“sorry ‘bout your pillow,” you cough out, leaning away from him suddenly so you don’t spit in his face.

“it’s fine. i enjoy a little snot with my sleep.”

“gross, peter.”

he grins down at you, kissing the top of your head again, because he is beyond adorable. then he sombers, still staring, carefully evaluating you. “do you want some more medicine? i think we’ve got some cold stuff in the cupboard.”

“the sleepy kind?”

“probably. take some of that. do you want to shower?”

“not really,” you say, letting him hold your head up. “i’m a little dizzy.”

peter frowns at you. “i’d make sure you don’t fall,” he offers.

“that’s okay,” and then you, once again, hack up some mucus in front of his face and sigh pathetically into your own hands.

“how about some tea? for your throat?” his hand moves yours away, brushing the hair out of your face.

“peter, it’s okay.”

you kiss his hand and push it away.

“the teas okay?” he frowns. “as in yes?”

“i’m okay,” you repeat, shaking your head at him. “you don’t have to do anything else. i’m fine.”

“you’re sick,” he corrects.

“i’m a big girl. i just need a nap. i’m probably not even sick.”

you emphasizes this point by choking down a cough, making your eyes water.

peter raises a brow.

you smile, tightly. “i’m just gonna go change now—“ you stand up, and then fall back down. your head spins as you feel peters hands wrap around your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your temple.

“just let me help,” he whispers, into you. “i’m not busy.”

“you had a long day.”

“i just want to cuddle with you anyway. i can take a few extra steps—like making you tea and getting you medicine.”

you shake your head. “i can do it.”

“i miss high you,” peter sighs. “c’mon, bub, stop being stubborn.”

you frown. “you’re the stubborn one. go swing and save someone else,” you tell him. “i just need a nap.”

“then i’m napping with you.”

you tilt your head back, groaning, and regretting it immediately when there’s a sharp stab in the front of your eyes.

peter kisses your now exposed neck, moving his hand so it keeps your head still. “you probably need to go to the doctor.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

peter scoffs. “you’ve got a fever of 103 degrees. i’m not dramatic.”

“i think i missed the era where you got your medical degree.”

peter scowls at you, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and making sure you can see his conviction to never ever let this go. “it’s called webmd. it’s a wonderful place.”

“peter,” you whine, trying to push him away.

“baby,” he whines back, but smiles as he picks you up, like a literal baby, making sure not to jostle your head. “pajamas. what do you want to wear? and what’s the verdict on the tea?”

you sigh and lean your head into his neck. you don’t appreciate this, but it’s hurting to keep your eyes open. you cough into him, muffling yourself from the world. “can i wear your shirt?” you say, softly.

peter smiles like he’s won the lottery. you can feel it against your head. “yup,” he pops, “but it’ll cost you.”

“what?” you ask, sniffling.

“a kiss.”

he pecks your cheek, then your nose, and carries you away.

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rowniebow · 6 months

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ughhh i just know peter would take you to that one spot on libraries where couples go makeout

asking

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: peters an idiot, mentions of mono

a/n: welcome to my frat boy peter era

“i’m not studying,” you tell him as he drags you through stacks of books, looking like he’s searching for something he lost.

“aw,” peter turns his head back so you can see him pout. “really? cause i wanted to go over this chemistry thing with you.”

“where are we going, peter? i’m serious.”

“don’t you trust me?” he squeezes your hand, and you make an effort not to smile.

maybe you should squeeze his hand back until you break his fingers.

“not even the slightest.”

“well, you agreed to go on a date with me,” his face embodies a righteous bastard, which he is. “so there’s that.”

“that was a brief lapse in judgement.”

“i think it’s going well, actually,” he whispers, slowing down so that he’s right beside you. so that he can bump into you as he walks, with his long legs and his stupid hand holding.

but there’s something about it that keeps you from teasing back. “were you worried?”

his temple meets yours, vibrating as he speaks. “not in the slightest.”

“really? cause i’ve been trying to irritate you all night.”

“is that why you ordered that weird appetizer thing? and then didn’t eat any of it?”

“it was a bouillabaiss, thank you.”

peter raises a brow at you, but says nothing. his air of judgement is palpable. you lean back, mock shocked at him.

“peter,” you scold, “don’t ever comment on a persons eating habits. it’s rude.”

“i wasn’t. i was telling you that i thoroughly enjoyed paying for it.”

you grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

he’s still pulling you along with him, traveling through a labyrinth of shelves, and you don’t expect him to find whatever he’s looking for. in fact, you’re almost sure that you’ve been walking in circles this whole time.

but eventually, peter slows, and he lets go of your hand only to gesture at the piles of books you’ve rounded the corner to.

seriously, piles. none of them are organized, or even somewhat readable. the carpet in this five by five area is noticeably darker, and when you turn to look behind you—making sure that there is actually a way out—you can’t see anything beyond a shelf that looks like every other one in the library.

“is this supposed to be your kidnapping room?” you whisper to peter, loudly. “because i don’t see any shackles.”

“these,” peter gestures around to the beer bottles you’ve only just noticed on the ground, and the suspicious looking mound in the corner, “are the make-out stacks.”

you blink. “the make-out stacks?”

peter hums, bending down to flip through a book—which is in german, naturally—and then puts it back down.

“please tell me that’s the unofficial title,” you beg him, and then spin around, trying to walk out.

but peter grabs your hand again and pulls you close. “nope. didn’t you read any of the freshman tip articles when you first moved here?”

“no, peter, i’m not a loser.”

“well, i knew about this, and you didn’t so…”

you kick an old wrapper. “do you bring all your dates here?”

“only the pretty ones.”

you scoff, shaking your hand out of his and crossing your arms. “and just what did you want to do here?”

“i’m pretty sure it’s in the name,” peter takes a step closer, making you take a step back—which, ultimately lands you pressed up against a bookshelf probably rotting with mold.

“you’re crazy if you think i’m going to kiss you in here.”

“then i’m crazy,” peters smiling at you, but he doesn’t get any closer. “are you worried about someone seeing?”

“i’m severely worried about my intuition,” you retort, rubbing your finger on the spine of a book beside you, and then wiping the dust on peters face. “i’m pretty sure just breathing the air in here is going to give me mononucleosis.”

peter snorts. “that’s just a rumor.”

you laugh back at him—mockingly—and then push him away. “seriously, peter? are you trying to ruin this date?”

peters’s draw drops, and he stands defensively by the—most likely—christened wall. “this is very romantic.”

“this is basically human torture. standing in here is making me want to jump off the roof.”

“that’s just the sexual tension.”

“ha!” you say, and shake your head as you begin to walk out. “i don’t know if i’m irritated or amused,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but peter is right there.”

“c’mon,” he says, picking up the pace to match yours. he’s close again. “i’m trying to help you get to know me.”

“and an essential part of your personality is being a womanizer?”

“i’m an everyoneizer.”

you push his shoulder, trying not to laugh. “this is probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. and i’ve known you long enough to see you do a lot of stupid things.”

peter raises a brow at you. “like what?”

“how about the time you almost set yourself on fire trying to light that grill?”

“it’s not my fault they don’t come with instructions.”

you shake your head, but when peter tries to take your hand, you don’t push him away.

finally, you turn to actually look at him—and brown eyes and stupid blonde hair and stupid smirking peter—and sigh. “no, really. what was that?”

at that, peter looks down, kicking your toe with his shoe. you squint just enough to see his cheeks pink. “i didn’t think you’d appreciate the walking-you-to-your-door-so-i-can-kiss-you-move.”

“so you went with the make-out-spot move?”

“at least your apart of a community then,” peter defends, meeting your eyes again. he’s a bit embarrassed, and plenty adorable.

you giggle. “if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve asked.”

“i did.”

“you tried to infect me with unknown bodily fluids,” you correct, “that’s not what i would call asking.”

“hey, i’ve been there plenty of times and i’ve never gotten—“

you push his face away, groaning. “are you actually trying to get me to leave you here?”

peter laughs, grabbing the hand still trying to attack him. “i’m sorry. can i kiss you?”

“not here, playboy. this is a professional environment.”

“there’s a guy over there watching bluey.”

“professional.”

peter sighs. “fine,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “can i kiss you sometime?”

“are you going to buy me dinner again?”

“are you going to order the most expensive thing on the menu?” he asks.

“probably.”

“then yes,” he nudges nose against yours and you really do want to kiss him.

like an insane symptom of stockholm syndrome or frat boy hypnosis.

but you manage not to, and only smile. “c”mon,” you say to him, pulling away, “let’s go find narnia.”

though not before you kiss his cheek, setting your promise to stone.

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rowniebow · 6 months

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best mistake

summary: you're new york's hero: spider-man. your roommate peter is the brains behind it all and the love of your life and he doesn't even know it. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male reader word count: 1.6k warnings: unprotected s3x, blowjobs, casual hooking up. a/n: i'm back? (based on this amazing prompt)

masterlist | more peter parker

Peter hears a loud thud from his window. It was dark outside, the clock on his desk reading past midnight, the city more quiet.

He peers on the glass, a dark figure resting its head on the pane. He gently lifts the window, your body slumping on his arms, your face bruised and bloody. He carries you to the bed, your suit all tattered and dirtied. Peter runs to the bathroom to get a basin of warm water and a towel.

He takes his time to wipe the blood from your face, gently wiping it on your soft skin, and brushing your hair away from your face. His eyes wander to your face, a familiar one, a face he’s seen ever since he was a kid, but now much older.

He takes the medical kit under his bed, gently moving you so he can remove your ruined suit. His calloused skater hands brush your chest with the damp cloth, scrubbing away the dried blood crusting your wounds. He applied a salve on some of the cuts to prevent infection, the bigger gashes he stitched.

The two of you have been doing this for eight years now. You, the web-slinger, protector of the city, while Peter, the brains behind your crusade. He came up with the idea of making the web-shooters, his bio-engineer degree with your experience as a research scientist in aerophysics helped hand-in-hand in keeping the city safe.

You turned in your sleep, groaning from the pain. “Hey, easy up tiger your wounds are still fresh,” he said, helping you prop yourself up on his bed.

“How long have I passed out?” you said, noticing your suit was pulled down to your waist.

“Just a couple of minutes,” he said. “Saw you on the TV.”

“Yeah, that Electro guy short-circuited my web-shooters,”

“About that, I sketched up a new prototype that could be resistant to his attacks,” he said, gesturing at his messy table with his new creation. “I also made some tweaks on the web fluid, I increased the tensile strength so they can withstand greater velocities.”

Peter’s eyes glimmered as he talked about the new shooters. Your mouth lifted into a smile as he continued to ramble. “What do you think?” he said, “Did you even listen?”

“Yeah—increased tensile strength blah blah,” you uttered. “How’s the job hunt by the way?”

“Terrible. I did sell some pictures to the bugle,” he said. “Jameson gave me $350.”

“$350? That’s not even enough for groceries and the electricity bill.”

“Well it’s better than nothing,” he said, taking his glasses off. “I saw Gwen earlier.”

Oh. Peter’s high school ex. You diverted your gaze away from his, finding the city lights outside the window was a distraction. You felt your chest tighten, your heartbeat much louder.

For the fifteen years you’ve known Peter Parker, you’ve also fallen in love with him. The two of you have shared some casual encounters here and there but you knew it was never serious. So the idea of him meeting his greatest love made you uncomfortable.

Peter noticed the way your attention left his, your eyes hooded as you stared far away. He noticed your hand clutch on the sheets, your jaw clenched. “She got engaged recently,” your muscles relaxing. Oh, you said. “Yeah, to some rich socialite from the Upper East Side.”

“Good for her,” you whispered.

“Have you thought about something like that?”

“Marrying a rich man?” you chuckled.

“No, just marrying,” he uttered, the corner of his lips lifting north. His fingers trace your skin, drawing circles. You let him.

“Not at all. I guess I’m gonna be broke my whole life,” you try to get up, your back betraying you. You stagger for a bit, your hand finding Peter’s shoulder for stabilization. He stands as well, his large hands around your bare waist.

Your breaths were close—too close. You could feel his heat, his warm musky scent, his brown eyes set on yours. He bends his spine so he can reach your face closer, his pink lips hovering off yours.

You pull back, clearing your throat in the process. “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“Yeah, sure,” he coughs.

You walk to the kitchen, holding onto your wounded torso. Peter’s eyes dropped to your underwear-clad ass, his cheeks blushed from the shame. Stop ogling your best friend Peter.

You find the fridge bare of any beverage, you turn your head back to see Peter staring at your ass, his face absent of any expression.

“Stop staring at my ass!” you shouted, throwing a kitchen cloth at him. “Plus, where’s all the beer.”

“I was not!” he shouted back. “And I think I drank all of it.”

You let out a sigh. You found a can of Coke on the bottom shelf of the fridge. You jumped to sit on the kitchen counter, your legs dangling off the linoleum countertop. The liquid sizzles as you chug it, the brown syrupy consistency dripping from the side of your mouth to your bare chest.

Fuck it. Peter walks to the kitchen, joining you. “If you want to seduce me you could just say it.”

“Seduce you?” you laughed. “And why would I do that?”

Your legs wrap around his waist. He takes the can from your hand, drinking the rest of it before placing it on the counter. “Because you’re like that, always making sure I can see that ass around,” he whispers to your neck.

Your head falls back from his kisses, your hands spread behind you for stability. He pulls your underwear off, your erection pointing north. He licks a strip underneath, you shudder from the sudden sensation.

He wrapped his long fingers around it, stroking it with his saliva, the only thing you could let out was a moan. He lifted you up the counter so your legs were mounted on his shoulders. He takes his digits inside his mouth, lubing it before pressing it into your hole.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“Feel good, huh?” he said. His fingers curl up inside you, teasing your sensitive spot. Your body winces from the sensation, your legs automatically closing on his head. He strokes your erection again, simultaneously stimulating your prostate. The combined sensation made your legs weak, and your arms almost collapsing. “To be honest, you’re the only one I do this to, Spidey.”

“Liar,” you let out a groan. “I know you kicked yourself over and over for not bagging Gwen.”

His grip on your cock tightened, his fingers went deeper. “Aw, are you jealous of her?”

“You lost your virginity to me asshole,” you whimper. “I get to ride that dick, not her.”

“Ride?” he chuckles. He pulls back, his hands wet with spit. “Go at it then. Ride me.”

The two of you were in his bed now. Peter sitting on the bed as you sucked him off. His hand found your head, running it through your hair. “Fuck baby,” he moans.

Your head bobs on his tip, your tongue licking around his head as you take him in. Your free hand was stroking his length, it was long enough that it was actually difficult to take him all in your throat.

“Fuck the blowjob, just ride me please,” he whimpers.

“I was preparing it you dick,” you said. “I can’t fit all that without some lube.”

You straddle his legs, aligning his tip against your hole. Your hands find his broad shoulders for support. The two of you moan from the contact. You hole slowly taking his length in. Peter shuddered from the warmth enveloping his erection. He cursed, he could cum from this alone.

You looked beautiful, Peter thought. Your hips moving against his sex, your eyes lidded, and your mouth agape, the sweetest moans leaving your lips. It was a sight he could look at forever. He takes your faces to his lips pressing them together. You let out soft whimpers, Peter blushes from the sounds.

“It’s too fucking big,” you groan.

“You can take it, baby, please, do it for me,” Peter moans.

He was a mess, you thought. All sweaty and red. He didn’t have the enhanced stamina you had. Your hands fall on his toned abdomen, your fingers finding the ridges underneath his shirt. You moved your hips up and down his length, your brows furrowing from the amount of pressure on your behind.

Peter stroked your erection as you continued riding him. His mouth was agape as your eyes locked on each other. You pulled him to you, your arms around his head as you quickened your pace. Your hips gyrated on his cock with such swiftness Peter’s cock felt like it was being bombarded with so much stimuli he could combust into flames.

“Shit, I’m close–”

“Me too, Peter,” you moan. “Cum in me.”

“You sure?” he said. You nod against the whimpers.

Peter rocks his hips against your ass, gripping onto the mounds of flesh. Your body draws out the pleasure from him as you move your hips. He could let out curses, pleading for release. From the same beat of your movement, the two of you let out your climax, your own release covering his torso as he filled you.

You lay in bed catching your breath. “This was probably bad for your stitches,” he said, his brown hair drenched.

“Yeah, I think I tore it again,” you breathed heavily.

It was probably a mistake. For you to continue this charade with Peter. To exchange bodily pleasure knowing your heart beat only for him, but it was a mistake you were ready to commit over and over again.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

588 notes · View notes

rowniebow · 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.

2K notes · View notes

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

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.”

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.”

“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.”

“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?”

“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.”

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.

2K notes · View notes

rowniebow · 6 months

Note

hi! you’re writings amazing, ily (i reblog everything i read from u, you’re fics are so- just so perfect)

can i request more of peter parker x mean! reader i thoroughly enjoyed that one, maybe just peter reassuring her that he’s not going to her hurt her and he’s not going anywhere (their in an established relationship but she’s afraid of getting hurt because she likes him so much- abandonment issues and all that 🫣)

involved

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“i don’t know how serious this is for you.”

“you don’t?”

warnings: self doubt, undiscussed relationship stuff, peter obv.

you hear your name before you catch it on the edge of a breath. because you only know one person who would call out to you, and only one person who’s voice you would listen for.

and then peter parker’s hand is wrapping around your arm, and he’s smiling down at you like the world is slow enough for this moment to pass right by.

but it doesn’t. and you frown back. “hey,” you say, but what you really meant was—can’t you tell i’m avoiding you?

“where are you?” he asks, none the wise to your grump brows or hesitance to touch him back,

“walking by the mess hall?”

peter tilts his head at you, bumping into you with his elbow. “no, i mean, where are you all of the time? i haven’t seen you in, like, a week. i’m withdrawaling.”

“i’ve been studying.”

“for what?”

“my class?”

he snorts at you, hand trailing down your wrist to intertwine with yours. which you let happen, reluctantly. “not feeling very explanatory today, huh?”

“i don’t like answering dumb questions.”

“not even mine?” he pouts, though breaking almost immediately, and going back to his signature smirk.

you look away. stupid peter and his stupid smiles.

“want to hang out tonight?” he asks, flowing with this irritated version of you immediately. because he’s so understanding. “we could watch a movie, or something. grab take-out?”

“i have a test tomorrow,” you gently try to pull away from him, which peter doesn’t notice in the slightest. “so i probably shouldn’t.”

shouldn’t, you think, not can’t, or won’t. you probably shouldn’t be spending anymore time with peter parker and his short attention span. his long reputation.

“it’s friday.”

“correct, peter. good job.”

he snorts, again. “no, i mean, it’s saturday tomorrow. how do you have a test?”

“it’s a mental test. how long can i sleep in after going to bed at seven?” you say this without skipping a beat, trying to keep the wince off of your face.

because, despite all else, you’ve really been trying not to hurt his feelings. you don’t want to tell him that you don’t think this is working out, or that you don’t want to be alone with him for any amount of time in the foreseeable future.

no, ghosting is much preferred.

“so you don’t want to hang out,” peter drawls, casually. “that’s okay. if you’re tired, i get it.”

he’s being sweet. still smiling if just a bit dimmer than before. he takes rejection like it’s a suggestion.

something about it irritates you. if he were less cool, or more direct, or any other thing than the perfect person he is—

“i’ve got to go,” you snap out, before your mouth can even open.

you shake your hand from his and try not to linger on the remaining sparks flying through it.

you turn away from peter, walking the opposite direction of home, and not caring even a bit. each step further away from him is some relief—disappointment—curling up inside of you. crawling to your chest and staying there.

but peter follows, because of course he does.

“woah,” he tries to reach out for you, but yoh jump away from him, like he’s some type of poison. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, peter.”

he takes a step closer, but doesn’t try to touch you.

you hadn’t even realized that you’d stopped.

“you’re upset,” he says slowly. “did i do something?”

“no.”

“did something happen?”

“no.”

“are you feeling alright?”

“no!”

you sigh and look away from him. his eyes are unbearable to look at. his easy-going nature and his inquisitiveness are irritating. he’s too nice for his own good. too nice for you, especially.

“okay, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he suggests this like suggesting something for dinner. “i might not be able to help, but i can listen. i like the sound of your voice.”

“ugh,” you get out, before you can think better of it.

“what?”

“don’t flirt with me. it’s disgusting.”

peter laughs. “havent we gotten past that? i’ve seen your—“

“don’t finish that sentence.”

“i was going to say bedroom.”

“yeah, right.”

“serious, baby. let’s talk. i’ve missed you.”

“talk,” you raise your brows. “right here?”

“well we can go to your place, or mine, but i don’t really feel like walking in awkward silence, so—“

but you’re not listening to peter. you’re watching his eyes dart around, and wondering how much you should be memorizing right now.

“for how long?” you blurt out, interrupting him and whatever he was saying.

“hmm?”

“you said you missed me. for how long?”

peter glances at you, quizzically. “since i last saw you, obviously.”

“no, i mean…” you kick at a rock with your shoe, unsure what to say, or how to say it. or how to do any of this without finding out the truth. “i mean, how much longer?”

“how much what, bub?”

“how much longer will you miss me?”

peter pauses. he’s staring down at you, biting on his lip. his eyes are questioning, and frozen, like he hasn’t heard a word you said. but he must have, because he says: “what?”

almost shocked like. almost like any of this is a surprise.

you shake your head, looking away from him.

“no,” peter tilts your head back to him, hand warm around your face. “what do you mean?”

“i just…” you feel lost for words. like you’re preparing yourself for the loss of something else. “i don’t know what you want, peter. i don’t… i don’t want you to say you like me for a few weeks, and then move on to someone else. i—“ you shake your head again, angry because it doesn’t make sense, and because peter is literally the only person you would say any of that too.

the only person you would want to.

“what? you think— you think i’m leading you on, or something?”

he sounds offended, so your eyes go to his, trying to read his face but there’s nothing there.

you sigh. “i don’t know how serious this is for you.”

“you don’t?”

“it’s not… i mean, it’s not like we’ve talked about it and i didn’t want to seem, um, too involved.”

“involved?”

“dedicated.”

“you didn’t want to seem too dedicated to me?”

your brows furrow at him. “you’re making me sound really lame.”

at that, peter finally cracks a small smile. “you said it, not me.”

“yeah, i know.” and then you roll your eyes at yourself.

“is this why you haven’t called me back in a week?”

“was it that obvious?” you say, voice dripped with sarcasm.

peters hand has dropped between the two of you. and his fingers graze against yours. in a moment of weakness.

“how long have you been worried about this?”

you think for a moment, making sure to keep your eyes off of him. “since the second time you asked me to dinner.”

his brows furrow. “that was last semester. like, a week in.”

“yeah.”

you peek up at him. his eyes are wide like he’s surprised. but there’s a hint of a smile on his face, a ghost of the humor he usually has.

so your head snaps up, and you frown. “are you laughing at me?”

peters lip twitches. “no, i mean—“ you step back from him. “i’m not laughing at you,” he swears, and then does just that.

you scowl, continuing to pull back.

“i’m not, really,” he shakes his head. “it’s just…”

“just what?”

peter looks up, praying to something that you don’t understand. you almost look with him. “i’ve spent the last six months just trying to get you to go out with me.” he says, finally.

you’re still frowning.

“honestly, i’m just a little shocked. i thought—“ he breaks off, wincing a bit. “well i assumed it would be obvious. that i was serious about this. us.”

“you—you’re like that with everyone.”

“i’m not the way i am with you around anyone else.”

you swallow. “really?”

“you make me actually insane,” he steps closer. “and that’s okay. i like it. but why would i spend all that time getting to know you, suffering from your abuse, or helping you out just to leave as soon as you started to reciprocate?”

“you like a challenge?”

“not that much.” his voice is loud, but his face is blown away. like you’ve shocked him enough to ruin any concern he had just minutes before.

“oh,” you whisper, feeling incredibly small.

he’s saying all of the right things, like he usually does, but you don’t have anything to say back. he still hasn’t managed to dislodge that fear from the pit in your chest.

peter must know this, the way he just knows things about you, because he grabs your hand, and leans down toward you. “i like you,” he says, so simply. a shrug to emphasize this point. like he’s already worked this thought out in his brain.

“i know you like me—“ you start, unprepared to lay yourself on the line with him, to care for him like he’s the only person in the world. even if you’ve already started

but peter stops you.

“i’m in love with you.” his voice breaks on the word.

just like your heart.

you stare at him, shocked, and bewildered, and lost in the whole idea of keeping him. coveting him like a prized possession.

peter is never serious. but he says this like it’s the only real thing in the world. like he believes it, wholeheartedly.

“okay?” peter whispers, like he’s repeating it. making sure you understand. you’re staring at him. “i love you.”

“you do?”

“more than i should,” he promises, smiling at the end.

“really?”

he laughs again and bends down to kiss you, his lips sweet and possessive. a signature at the bottom of the contract. when he pulls back, just slightly, he’s rolling his eyes. “i stalked outside your class so i could pretend to run into you.”

you frown. “that’s creepy. how’d you know what class i had?”

“you think i don’t know your schedule by now?”

“i—“ he interrupts you by kissing you again, hands wrapped around your face. “peter,” you whisper, when he breaks free.

“don’t avoid me, okay? i couldn’t think all week. i almost set myself on fire in the lab, because i thought every notification i got might’ve been you.”

you blink, looking away. “sorry.”

peter smiles, stepping back and taking the strap of your bag before you can protest. “you can make it up to me by buying me dinner.”

you scowl, looking back at his adoring face. “please.”

peter grabs your hand and begins to walk, and this time you don’t even mind.

“i also accept cash.”

“i kissed you. that’s worth, like, seven dinners. you’re lucky.”

he looks down at you, smirking once again. “damn right.”

844 notes · View notes