#andrew peter parker

[biblio-smia]

shy shy shy

a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship

masterlist | requests are open!

nerdy peter lovers rise

They were just glasses.

On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.

Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.

Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.

Metal frames, thick lenses.

Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?

Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.

He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.

Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.

Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.

Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.

Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.

It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.

"You wear glasses?"

Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.

"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.

You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.

You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.

Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.

"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.

"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.

You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.

"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.

"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.

"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."

"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.

"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.

"Pete?"

"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.

"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.

You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.

You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.

But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.

Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.

You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.

"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.

Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.

"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.

"Tell me about it."

"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.

"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."

Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.

"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.

"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.

"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.

Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."

"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.

Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.

"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."

"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.

"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."

"I didn't know you were into that."

Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.

"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.

"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?

Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.

"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew peter parker #v + peter #v writes

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

#andrew peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x female reader #mcu x y/n #mcu imagine #tom!peter x reader #tom!peter parker #tom!spiderman #tobey!peter x reader #tobey!peter parker #tobey!spiderman #andrew spiderman #lotus writes #lotus's peter parker

[sincericida]

11 years later, we got an amazing reunion with Aunt May & Peter Parker. Andrew Garfield presents Sally Field with the Lifetime Achievement Award at The 29th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards SAG | February 26, 2023

#andrew garfield #sally field #😭 #life achievement tribute #sag awards 2023 #sag awards #screen actors guild #awards #peter parker #spider man #aunt may #tasm #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #andrew peter parker #andrew peter #sincericida

[withahappyrefrain]

I’m just *know* peter is the kind of guy to pound into you before giving you the softest most gentle kiss

He absolutely is! 18+! We have some size kink because I'm a basic bitch.

"Peter." Your voice was barely above a whisper, strained and desperate. Hands clutched his dark locks, tangling yourself further with him.

"I'm right here ladybug," His words did little to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs. You needed him, all of him.

"Please." You try to cant your hips upwards, in a pathetic attempt to get more of him. And he knew exactly what you were trying to do, able to hold your hips down to the mattress.

"Just gotta ease in ya, 'kay?" A whine escaped your lips upon feeling his cock sink further into you. It felt so good and yet still not enough.

Peter pressed a kiss to your collarbone, "I know, doing so good for me. Taking me so well."

He was always gentle when it had been awhile since you two were intimate. Insisted on easing into you, getting you reacquainted with the sheer size of him.

Whines became all out groans as he bottomed out. Back arching in pleasure, you threw your head back as you reveled in the fullness you now felt.

"Feel so fucking good bug," Peter groans into your skin, feeling practically drunk off your scent.

"I-Peter-fuck." Your head is too busy spinning from how divine it feels when his cock brushes against that one spot.

Peter can't help but let out a chuckle, the corners of his eyes slightly creasing, "Already bug? I just started."

"Oh fuck off," the last word goes from intelligible to babble due to Peter finally increasing the pace of his thrusts.

All you could do was cling onto him as your body was submerged in total pleasure. It felt amazing to be full of him once more, to be consumed by only him. The scent of cinnamon was filling your nostrils, your fingers could feel every scar and mark on his body.

He pushed himself off of you, ignoring your whines as he sat up.

"Peter-"

"Just trust me bug."

That wasn't hard. You trusted him with your whole heart, with every fiber of your being.

His large calloused hands wrapped themselves around each of your ankles, bringing your legs up to his shoulders.

"Pete-oh!"

The new angle allowed him to thrust even deeper. Your fingers quickly found the bedsheets, grasping the fabric as your body was entirely at his mercy.

"You're s'pretty like this bug. All spread out just for me."

Heat flooded your body from his words. You could feel his honeyed eyes on you, taking in the way your breasts bounced with every thrust.

"Fuck, l-ladybug," Peter's voice faltered as your tight walls clenched his cock.

"P-Peter," you could barely get out his name. All you could focus on was how his cock perfectly found the spot that was making you start to see stars. You were on your way, given the way your thighs began to shake, the way the coil in your stomach was whining up.

"Whatcha need bug? C'mon, use your words, you can do it."

You whined, a hand trailing past your breasts to where your body and Peter's connected.

He moved your hand away from your body, replacing it with his own. Fingers far thicker than your own, calloused from years of hard work, found your clit, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bundle.

"That's what ya needed, huh? Your poor little clit, I'm sorry bug."

"Th-thank you- fuck!" The last word was screamed, your release hitting you like a freight train. Peter didn't relinquish his intense thrusting, continuing with his ministrations to help you ride out your high.

It felt like you were falling, white hot pleasure coursing through your body. Your eyes fluttered closed, seeing stars as you rode out the wave.

Peter watched you carefully, looking out for any signs of you coming down from your high. Once the loud moans had turned into whimpers, he gently placed your legs down, bending down so his chest hovered over yours.

"Bug?" You felt his thumb stroking your cheek. Upon opening your eyes, you found Peter, his face inches away from yours.

"There she is, my ladybug," He said gently before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "C'mere."

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist, helping you sit up as he pulled you into his lap.

"You okay?" He asked. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath.

"Good." His fingers hooked themselves under your chin, allowing him to tilt your head up.

His lips met yours, gently pressing against yours. His kisses were warm and comforting, always making you feel safe and loved. This particular one was soft, a stark contrast from moments ago.

"You did such a good job ladybug," His lips moved from yours to your cheek, peppering your skin, "You wanna keep going or do you want to take a break?"

"Can we take a break? I want you to come but I need time-"

"We have all the time in the world bug."

#my writing #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm peter x reader #andrew peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker smut #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker

[literaila]

perishable hours 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: peter reminds you how important sleeping is. and then proceeds to keep you awake. 

warnings: fluff, insomnia, half-asleep drabbles. 

a/n: and in this i attempt to write fluff without writing fluff 

*

it's quiet when he gets the call. 

quiet enough for new york city in the middle of the night. car horns, and flickering lights, and yelling from a couple of streets down. the sound of doors opening and closing, and people running from dreams they used to covet. 

peter likes it best like this. when there's nothing to do. 

when time is only a thing to stand on, tilt off of the edge as he appreciates the silence that comes with three am. 

but then his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. 

peter--for just a moment--feels a bout of relief that his phone is still there. the guy at the tech store is getting tired of seeing him, and peter is getting tired of making an excuse every time he loses his phone. 

the relief goes away in a second; no one should be calling him at three in the morning. 

and when he sees your name on the screen--illuminated by a picture he took of you sitting at a counter, glaring at him because it was the fifth picture he'd taken of you that day--his confusion morphs into panic. 

you're usually asleep by now. usually laying in your bed, slightly snoring. you've always got some drool on the side of your cheek. always got your legs kicked out of the covers, shivering because of how cold it is. 

which peter knows, because he finds it all endlessly adorable. 

but only when you're actually doing it. 

and besides, you have a weird thing about calling him when he's patrolling.  

"i don't want you falling on your face when you get shocked by your ringtone," you'd said to him. 

peter had smiled, charming. "but then you could kiss the bruises away." 

so peter clears his throat, avoids thinking about whatever you might need, and backs into an alleyway that he would avoid under any other circumstance. 

he'll do the most for you. 

"hey, baby," he answers, sounding more carefree than he feels. 

he can hear you breathe into the phone. "hey." 

peter keeps a smile on his face. "what're you doing up so late?" 

there's a sniffle on the other end. 

it only proves to drop peter's heart even lower in his chest. 

he hums into the phone, waiting. 

"peter," you whisper, softly, breath catching.

"what's going on, sweetheart?" peter asks you, slipping the mask off of his face. he looks around for any pedestrians, and then takes off his gloves. "another bad dream?" 

"no. it's just--" peter can't hear you clear enough to tell if you're crying, but he has a sinking--sinking so far into the earth that it digs up spare body parts--suspicion that you are. "i can't sleep." 

peter holds the phone up between his ear and shoulder, sneaking his other arm out of its sleeve. "are you feeling okay?" 

"yeah." 

"just tired?" 

"yeah." 

peter switches ears. "i'm sorry, baby. what can i do?" 

"i don't know. i thought talking to you would help" you breathe out, sniffing again. "but i just feel worse now." 

"worse?" 

"you're working. i can hear sirens." 

peter avoids shivering from the cold. "i was just heading home." 

"don't lie, peter." 

"i'm not," he swears, pulling his suit down so he can shake it off of his feet. "i'd much rather talk to you. it's boring tonight. and cold." 

"you like when it's boring." 

peter tries not to smile at how well you know him. "i like it when you're feeling alright, too. did you just want to talk?" 

there's a brief pause, leaving peter a moment to dread whatever you're going to say next. 

as he stands in a dark alleyway in a t-shirt, underwear, and socks. his hand digs around for the backpack he stashed earlier. 

"it's okay," you whisper. "i'll probably fall asleep soon." 

peter smiles, maybe amused at the unspoken words. or maybe because he's trying not to freeze to death. his heart flickers at the concession in your voice. 

he slips his sweatpants on next, refusing to think about the reality of this situation. 

"baby," he whispers to you, listening to you breathe. 

"yeah?" 

"can i come over?" 

peter hears something that sounds like a laugh. 

"you don't have to. you're probably tired." 

"nope." 

"peter," you sigh, now trying to convince him. 

peter laughs, slipping on his shoes. "i'm wide awake. and greedy." 

"greedy?" 

"wanna see you. it's been too long." 

this time, you actually laugh. "i saw you earlier today." 

"my point exactly." 

"you still don't have to." 

peter zips up his backpack, falling back into the light once more. he listens to the sirens and smiles into the phone. 

"i'll be there in ten." 

*

you flinch as you wake up, body on alert, nerves short-circuiting until you're sure that your limbs have left completely. 

that the numbness of your arm is just a trick of your mind. 

and that the eyes on you are just some part of a leftover dream. dazing carefully, droning on and on because they won't look away. 

brown and warm and soft and smooth. rough in their nature. playful. 

they stare at you, amused. unmoving and careful and cautious. 

and there's a hand on your head, musing your hair. 

you groan and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to grab onto the grasps of dreams that are still leftover. 

because it would seem that this isn't one. 

"good morning?" peter says, laughing. 

you fall even further into the pillows, head aching from the light coming in through your window. 

"are you still sleeping?" peter asks, softly, moving your malleable head. tilting your jaw. 

you can still feel his eyes on you. 

"why are you staring at me?" 

"incoming news: my baby is beautiful." 

peter's voice is soft and teasing and far too amorous for your heart. too strong and true and every usual thing that you love about it. 

"too early for this," you mumble, moving away from him and digging your face into a pillow. 

peter laughs. moves you back so that he can stare at you. 

"this is creepy, peter." 

"okay." 

you open one eye, squinting at him. "i don't remember inviting you in here." 

"that's weird because i remember it very well," peter tilts his head, eyebrow raised. "i distinctly remember someone tackling me when i--" 

you push him away. 

"not like that," peter says, returning.

"how long have you been awake?" 

"an hour or so." 

your other eye opens. you blink. "what?" 

peter moves his head down into your neck, nuzzling the skin by your pulse. "you're very warm." 

"you mean to tell me that you've just been laying there for an hour?" 

"not just," he says into your skin. 

you can feel the vibration. curse the goosebumps that respond. 

peter laughs. 

"how did you sleep?" he asks you, softly.

"fine until i woke to a stranger in my bed." 

peter's head jerks up. "where?" 

you laugh, pushing his cheek away with the tip of your finger. peter smiles and grabs your hand from his face, kissing the knuckles there. 

"how did you sleep?" you ask him. "were you here all night?" 

"came in around four. you woke up, kissed me, and then fell back asleep." 

"sounds about right." 

peter moves some hair out of your face. "i didn't mean to scare you," he says. "i'm sorry." 

"you didn't scare me." 

"i would've left but i fell asleep." 

"that's good. you were out late." 

peter doesn't answer that, only traces a finger from the corner of your eye to your jaw, up to your lips. his touch tickles, which you know, is the point. 

"you didn't scare me," you repeat, because you know him. 

"no? you jumped." 

"that's how i always wake up." 

peter laughs and kisses your cheek, melting his adoration into you. 

it's almost unfair. 

"i thought i was dreaming. i like it when you're here." 

peter meets your eyes. "yeah?" 

you nod, allowing your lips to move on their own accord. to bend and twist and smile at him like he's the only thing that could be worth it. 

peter smiles back, just the same. "you're cute when you're half asleep," he whispers. 

cloudy tone and sweet words and things that are supposed to kill you right where you lay. 

but then he kisses you. he manages to wake you up completely, any hazed thoughts drifting away from your head. nerves alight with fear that he'll move away. skin burning at the thought of him touching you. 

which he is. 

he teases at your skin, laughing into your mouth. 

you laugh back. 

peter pulls back, hand tilting your chin toward him. "what do you wanna do today?" 

*

when peter wakes up, it's to the sound of a door closing. 

so he lays in bed for a moment. tries to remember where he is and why he's asleep. 

it's still dark outside, he can see when he looks through the window. streetlight shining in on his face. 

if he touched the glass, his skin would freeze.  

peter pulls the cover over his head, his own warm breath punching him in the face. 

he's pretty sure that he forgot to brush his teeth. 

so he moves them back down, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. he's not sure when he fell asleep. barely remembers watching a movie with you, and laughing when you almost fell off of the bed. he doesn't remember what happened next. 

but he knows that you should be right next to him, clinging to him like you always do when it's cold outside. 

but you're not. you're nowhere near him. 

he looks over to the clock on the bedside table, the numbers flashing red back at him with a glare. 

he blinks again. 

and then sits up, looking at the crumbled covers on your side of the bed. the pillows on the floor. 

and peter frowns because usually, this isn't a good sign. 

he hears you close something else in the other room. 

there's a slight concern fuzzing up in his chest. like a purr of his blood, telling him that he's not falling back asleep any time soon. just barely dimmed from the excess of exhaustion still in his chest. 

peter feels just a little bit dizzy when he stands up, feet wobbling over the floor. he still has his socks on. 

he walks to the door, just about to open it when he hears something else on the other side. 

something that sounds like music, and something that sounds like you dying. 

peter walks out into the kitchen to find you singing into a whisk, dancing to a song he doesn't quite recognize. 

all of the lights are on. 

you don't seem to notice him, even when he goes up to the counter, just continue singing and dancing--movements soft and smooth and far too enthusiastic for two in the morning. 

still, peter lets a smile tease at his lips. 

he wonders if maybe he's still asleep. that maybe this is just something funny to tell you about tomorrow. 

but then you look up at him, eyes widening, movements stopping. 

peter watches as you almost fumble with the bowl on the counter, falling like he's just changed your center of gravity by walking into the room. 

"peter," you say, surprised, voice a bit quieter than the music. you reach over the counter to grab your phone, turning it down. "you're awake." 

peter laughs, noticing some flour on your nose. 

"did i wake you up?" you ask, brows folding. "i'm sorry. i was trying to keep it down." 

peter shakes his head. "no. what're you doing?" 

you look down at the bowl again, almost guilty. like a child with lipstick all over their face. "making cookies." 

peter sits down on a stool, watching you. "this late?" 

you give him an innocent smile. "i thought that you might help me eat them." 

"why are you awake?" 

you shrug. "i wanted cookies." 

"so you decided to start making some at two in the morning?" 

you frown. "well, actually, i woke up an hour ago. do you know how dirty the kitchen was?" 

"bub--" 

"i spent an hour cleaning it. and now i'm making cookies." 

peter lets out an exasperated laugh. "that's all?" 

"i was dancing." 

"i noticed." 

you frown and stop mixing the dough. look towards the clock on the stove. "you should go back to bed. you have to be up early, don't you?" 

peter nods, biting his lip. 

you stare at him, waiting. 

he stares back, so willing to watch your face shift and burn into the atmosphere. 

a perfect cosmology. 

"what?" you ask him, brows raised. 

"what kind of cookies?" 

"chocolate chip." 

peter gets up, walking around the counter, towards you. "can i have one?" 

"i'm making them for you." 

peter goes right behind you, wrapping arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest, and letting his head drift down to your shoulder. 

"are you going to fall asleep right there?" you ask him. 

"i might," peter leaves a kiss on the skin of your neck he can reach. "speak now or forever hold your peace." 

you say nothing. simply take the bag of chocolate chips next to you and pour it into the dough. 

"you know i'm not going back to bed until you do, right?" 

you nod your head against him, pushing yourself as close to peter as possible. 

peter closes his eyes, breathing you in for a moment. 

and a couple of minutes when he opens them again, he frowns, reaching around you to grab a mug. 

"is this coffee?" he sniffs at the cup, spinning you around. 

you're trying not to smile. so guilty. 

"baby," he sighs, throwing his head back. 

"i just needed a little kick when i was cleaning--" 

"we've talked about this." 

you frown and cross your arms. "when?" 

"when we talked about getting enough sleep, and not sabotaging yourself--" 

you tap a finger on your chin. "do not recall." 

"you're not getting out of this one." 

"we'll go to bed when the cookies are done," you say, so simply, turning back around, purposefully avoiding his eyes. 

"hey," he says, tilting your head back towards him. "what's with that?" 

"what?" 

"your mischievous little smile." 

you pull away from his hands, shrugging. "don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

peter pulls you away from the counter again, moving so that he can see you. "you planned this out." 

"hmm?" 

"being loud, the music, my favorite cookies..." peter stares at you, maybe amazed, maybe annoyed. 

you are completely silent. 

"oh, you--" peter laughs, digging a finger into your stomach to watch you squirm. "waking me up because you missed me, huh?" 

"peter--" 

he laughs when you giggle hysterically, trying to push his hands away. 

"what'd i do to deserve that, bub? you're always talking about--" 

"you win!" you gasp, "baby, i don't--" 

"--how important sleep is." 

"peter, c'mon, i can't--" 

"and what was that about 'you should go back to bed?'" peter demands, a smile playing at his lips. "you're the one that woke me up--"

"mercy," you plead. "i'm sorry," but you're laughing so hard that peter can feel your body shaking. 

one of his hands moves to cradle your cheek, getting you to look him right in the eyes. 

face bright and warm and every beautiful thing that peter isn't sure he deserves. 

"you're sorry?" 

"so terribly." 

"and you're going to stop drinking coffee this early in the morning?" 

you pout. "i didn't say anything about that." 

peter's hand reaches for your ribs again, and you squeal. 

"okay," you move away from him--not that he's letting you go. "okay. no more coffee." 

"good." 

and then peter stares at you, trying not to burst into laughter. 

you look like you're doing the same. 

peter raises a brow. 

"okay, to be fair--" you begin. 

"here we go." 

"you fell asleep so early. like, how old are you actually? because i thought you would at least make it to eight, but--" 

peter's jaw drops. 

you giggle at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. 

"did you just call me old?" 

"not explicitly." 

and then he pulls you even closer, tilting his head so he can whisper in your ear. "now you're in for it." 

the next morning, peter doesn't remember if you finished making the cookies. 

*

"peter," you whisper, almost close enough to taste his skin. 

to watch him breathe and wonder what it would be like to never stop. 

he doesn't budge. moves over and continues snoring into the pillow. 

so you laugh at him, sit down on the space he's so considerately made for you on the bed. 

you rub at his shoulder, frowning at how warm he is. 

"hey, kid," you say to him, glancing at the clock. "wake up." 

peter's eyes flutter the minimalist amount. 

you snort. 

"c'mon," you say. "it's almost noon. i would let you sleep but you're going to mess up your schedule..." 

he sniffs. tries to roll over again. 

you poke his cheek. 

"you should know that there is a water bottle right on your desk," you say, softly. "and that i am not afraid of you. or the water. at all." 

peter peaks an eye open. 

"there he is." 

he frowns. "would you really dump it on me?" 

you pretend to think about it. "i would kiss you awake first." 

"is that still an option?" 

you laugh and fall over him, cuddling deep into his skin. 

"woah," he says, but wraps an arm around your back, holding you closer. his fingertips tease at the back of your neck, daring. "have you been up long?" 

"since nine." 

"what'd you do?" 

"watched some tv. made breakfast. drew a mustache on your face in sharpie." 

peter's head lifts up, meeting your eyes. "really?" 

you laugh, trace his cupids brow. 

you admire the soft color of his skin. the pink to his cheeks and the flush that he has only this early in the afternoon. only after you've been laying on him. 

only with you; only with him. 

"shame," peter sighs. "i've been trying to grow it out." 

his nose meets yours, sweet and soft, and he's so close that you almost don't remember how to speak. 

how to breathe and pretend that it's normal. 

"i'll keep that in mind tomorrow morning," you whisper, just barely. 

peter lays back, pulling you with him. you watch the dimple on his cheek twitch and forget about doing anything else. 

*

peter doesn't bother to knock on the window when he gets in this late. 

he doesn't want to run the risk of waking you up--of worrying you with bruises that will be gone by morning, and making you leave the secure cocoon you've collected around yourself. 

blankets and wonderful thoughts and feelings that peter misses just a little bit too much right now. 

as soon as he's in your room, he's slipping his shoes off. 

he's looking at you and wondering how he ever managed to leave. 

he's taking off his jacket, dropping his bag on the floor, and trying not to shiver from the cold. 

he's staring at you, for just a little too long. 

he watches your face as you twitch in your sleep, a soft curve of your lips. a blank and peaceful face. 

peter's chest pinches at the idea of watching this any longer. 

so he crawls towards you, leaving a short and yearning kiss on your cheek. 

moving the covers just a little bit. so that he can fall into them with you. 

"hey, bub," he says to you, knowing that you can't hear. 

he lets himself fall into your bubble, taking up space that he knows you don't want. 

he moves some hair out of your eyes; smiles at the subtle twitch of your cheek. 

and then he kisses your hairline, wanting to spend all night staring at you. 

talking to you and listening to you speak back. memorizing the sound of your voice and every little thing that makes you laugh. 

he wants to fall asleep right here. right now. 

he wants to avoid the world and pretend that there isn't anything else. 

because maybe there isn't. 

even with the light from outside shining on your face--ruining the illusion--he smiles. 

he pulls you closer to him, cooing softly when you cuddle close to him, smiling in your sleep. 

and then he breathes out. 

falls asleep without a doubt in his mind. 

*

my masterlist here. 

tags: @moonlarking-blog​ @v1ci0us​ @preciousbabypeter​ @alexxavicry​ @directioner5life​  @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ @localrockstargf​

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #the amazing spider man imagine #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew!spiderman imagine #spider-man #spider man #tasm!peter smut #tasm!fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter angst #marvel

[rancidpancakebatter]

For Him - [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x Depressed!Reader

Summary: You were fine. He doesn’t understand. You were fine. You had been a little distant lately, but he had learned that was a pattern for you. When the months got colder and the nights got longer, you needed an adjustment period. Your space would get messy, and your naps would get longer. But you were always fine. 

Word Count: 7.0k

Content: THIS FIC IS CENTERED AROUND A DEPRESSIVE EPISODE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMTION.

Depression, language, Mentions of self-harm, Mentions of suicide ideation, friends to...open to being more?, Whump comfort, No actual harm comes to the reader, Happy Ending

( Masterlist )

A/N: I'm trying to get back into writing (I know I've said that before) and while my series are on pause, I've been trying to get back into a schedule with it. This piece is very personal to me and is very much something I wrote for myself. I'm sharing this only because I hope it can bring others the comfort it brought me. Or something close to it.

“Peter- Peter, please fix it!” Peter watched you helplessly as you continued to sob. 

Your cries ripped from your chest, and you wished to reach inside the fresh gashes, grasp your heart, and grind it to dust. Anything to make it stop. It felt as if the tissue of your cardiac muscle was pulling itself apart, each painful pump shredding the fragile tissue further. You weren’t sure how much more you could take- how many beats you had left in you. You felt delirious. 

It’s common knowledge that when your body is going through immense pain, such as breaking a bone, it goes into shock. Your sympathetic nervous system shuts off momentarily because your brain makes the executive decision that you can’t handle it. You wondered how much pain you could withstand before your body tapped out. 

Everything was too much. Your brain couldn’t keep up. Neither could Peter. He watched on in horror as you screamed, clawing at the carpet, pushing your face into the ground, cradling your stomach, and rolling back and forth. 

You were fine. He doesn’t understand. You were fine. You had been a little distant lately, but he had learned that was a pattern for you. When the months got colder and the nights got longer, you needed an adjustment period. Your space would get messy, and your naps would get longer. But you were always fine. 

You had been ghosting Peter for six days (after two weeks of not seeing each other and you flaking on plans), and he had had enough. In his line of work, he tended to worry, however irrational that worry was, it was still there, palpable. You hadn’t been to class all week, he went to your job to surprise you, but you weren’t there either. He thought maybe you were upset with him, but the nagging thoughts racing through his mind couldn’t let you be. If something was wrong, he needed to know. 

Peter has had a key to your place since you moved in. He was the only person you trusted, and you knew that sometimes he hated going home, finding it hard to leave “work” at work. You loved that your apartment was a safe place for him. Somewhere, he could rest his head and forget, for a moment, about Spider-Man and return to Peter Parker.

To say your place was a mess was an understatement. You were respectfully tidy; your space consistently looked lived-in, as opposed to Harry’s place, which always looked like a catalogue. 

The smell of rotting food triggered his gag reflex momentarily. He soon got his bearings and saw dishes piled everywhere; the full plates looked almost untouched. Various fast food containers littered every surface. Clothes were draped over random furniture, and he could smell you too. He didn’t smell your strawberry shampoo and cocoa butter lotion but rather sweat and musk. 

He entered cautiously, calling out to you, but heard no response. He surveyed his surroundings, looking for any possible distress. He worried for a minute that his Spidey-Sense™ wasn’t working. Obviously, something was wrong, but his sixth sense remained dormant in his nerves. 

Then he heard it, breathing, a heartbeat. He moved in its direction, slowly approaching the couch. Curled up in a ball, you lay there, surrounded by malodorous clutter. You looked very uncomfortable slotting yourself between mounds of tupperware and dirty clothes. He called out to you again but got no response. 

He lept over the back of the couch, landing in front of you, disregarding anything in his path. He brought a hand to your face and the other to your exposed wrist, checking for a pulse. You turned your face away from him, and he felt a rush of emotions surge through him. 

Firstly, he was elated: you were alive, your pulsed drummed with the precision of a seasoned battlefield drummer, and you didn’t seem to have a fever or show any other indications of illness. 

Secondly, he was angry: he hadn’t heard from you in a week, but he sees your phone on the floor in front of him. You were trying to move away from his touch as if his hand on your face was the broccoli your mother demanded you eat before leaving the table. And when he called to you, you didn’t respond- despite very obviously being awake. 

Then, he was worried: he watched as your fingers trembled, your hand limp as he held your wrist. You looked dull, as if someone had turned down your saturation, drowning you out in the background of surrounding hues. Your eyes were glassy, seemingly unfocused as you stared ahead. You looked despondent, a husk of his dear friend. 

He called out to you again, and you let out a small whimper. He was beginning to panic. You, on the other hand, were trying to find the will. The will to care, to respond, to look at him, to live. 

“(Y/n), can you hear me?” again, you gave him nothing, and he felt panic rise in him again. 

“(Y/n), come on, you gotta give me some sign of life.” You focused all of your energy, fighting desperately against your brain, and blinked, long and slow. 

“Was that on purpose? Was that your response?” You blinked again, and Peter felt his chest tighten. 

“Are you okay? You’re freaking me out, Bubs.” You blinked twice, and Peter stopped for a moment. 

“Is two blinks a ‘no’?” You blinked again. 

Peter ran a hand through his hair, and you realised he was stressed. You wanted to care so badly. Your friend was hurting, and it was your fault, and you couldn’t even care. Some friend you are. Peter deserved someone better, someone who could be there for him, someone who didn’t completely fall apart when the world became too heavy, someone who could convince themselves that breathing was a good thing. You felt someone shaking you. 

“Hey! (Y/n), come back to me, buddy!” You blinked again, and the shaking stopped, but you could still feel his eyes boring into you. 

“I asked if you were on drugs. Are you overdosing right now?” You blinked twice. You were feeling tired again. How ridiculous that you can lay here all day, but having to blink is too exhausting? You let out a yawn, and Peter relaxes some. 

“(Y/n), can you try and talk to me? I’m freaking out here.” With a great amount of effort, you opened your mouth. 

“I’m sorry.”

It was barely audible; your voice croaked due to its inactivity. You blinked a few times, forcing yourself to look at him. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were wet. You had done that. The ache in your bones grew and spread at the realisation. Peter just shook his head. 

“I don’t need you to be sorry; you need to tell me what’s going on.”

To anyone else, he would have sounded cold, but you knew this tone. Peter was working a case, searching for clues, answers. You were dealing with Spider-man. You felt bad that you had drawn that out of him, that he was so distressed he had to put on his suit of armour. 

How could you tell him? There was nothing going on. Not one thing, at least. It was a bunch of small things that you were handling like a baby. Your parents were upset with you, your grades were slipping, your job was stressful, you were constantly fatigued, and everything just felt like so much work. Work that you didn’t sign up for. Work that you were done doing. 

“(Y/n), what’s going on?”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice at you, but he was growing annoyed with your crypticness. He wanted to help you- wanted to make sure you’re okay- and he couldn’t do that if you didn’t tell him.

You let out some sharp breaths that almost resembled crying, but no tears left your eyes. You wondered if you had run out; if your brain had decided you had met your quota and had cut off your supply. Or maybe you were just so dehydrated that you didn’t have enough water to spare. 

You watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. You had made him cry. You were uncaring and cruel. You were hurting him. You were a shitty friend. He was so worried about you, and you did nothing to ease his concern. He had called you many times, and you would watch as your phone danced on the table. You would listen to his voicemails, at first light-hearted before quickly turning to panic. You stopped listening to them three days ago, unable to process his emotions as well as your own. 

“Bubba, please. What is going on with you? You haven’t answered my texts, you haven’t been to class, you haven’t been to work. I’m really worried. Please, please talk to me.” 

He was begging and the thought broke your wretched heart. You attempted to curl more into the couch, to hide away from the pain you saw in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder stopped you, and you didn’t have the strength to resist. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You watched as Peter’s face contorted wildly between emotions: anger, fear, concern, sorrow. He chewed on his lip as he looked you over again. His mouth gaped as if he was tripping over his words before they could even leave his mind. 

“Why? What-? Did you do something?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

How could he even ask that? He knows what you did. He had just listed half of your offences. How could he even stand to look at you? You were a monster, vile and vicious. 

You blinked again, and Peter frowned. You knew he wanted to hear you speak, that it would ease his worry, but you couldn’t. Saying the words is hard, flexing all those muscles to use your voice. Too much. It was all too much. 

“What did you do?”

You can hear the fear in his voice. It makes you sick to your empty stomach. The weight of his question weighed on your chest.

You knew what he was asking. It was a question you had been asked many times by your parents, by professionals, and your friends. You had lost many over the question. Some of them running away screaming at your honesty. Others have told you it’s not your fault, they just can’t carry the weight. So they leave you to carry it on your own. 

You recognised the way his eyes quickly darted to your wrist, then moved to any possible exposed skin. You saw the way he checked his surroundings, looking for anything there. You knew what he was looking for, even if he didn't.

You almost wanted to laugh at that. It was funny to your fucked up brain. They always want to know. They insist on it. They have to know if you’ve done something to yourself as if their knowledge could rewrite time and change futures. As if they know they have the special combination of words that would make you see the light and bring you back. As if they could say something-- anything --you hadn’t heard before. But that wasn’t the funny part. The funny part was being right. 

You knew that it was getting bad again. You knew if Peter saw you like this, he would get scared. You knew he would assume the worst. And here he was, doing just that. The funny part was knowing that when people see depression, they expect it to just be this, and if it’s not, you’re fine. And when it does look like this, you must be suicidal. 

And honestly, you wish you were. And you shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. At least then you could do something with it. But instead, you’re curled up on your couch, immobilised, waiting for the storm to pass. You look and feel pathetic. But for now, it’s funny. Mostly because you can’t handle how frustrating this is.

You tug your sleeve down, and Peter’s eyes track the movement, tracing over the smooth skin as it’s revealed. His body remains tense even as you stop. You move the other one, and he’s just as attentive. When both wrists are revealed to be fine, you expect him to relax, but he doesn’t. 

You watch as his chest rises and falls, not quickly but noticeably. As if he’s trying to stay calm. You appreciate that, though feeling like a bit of an ass for it. 

He takes a deep breath, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “So then, why are you sorry?”

He looked at you expectantly, and you felt like crying again. It was too much. You knew what you had done, how shitty you had been. It’s all you could think about as his calls continued to go unanswered and your filth continued to pile around you. But he was asking too much. You didn’t want those words to leave your lips. You didn’t want him to hear them. 

If he did, he might realise you’re right. He’d leave you here, and you’d never hear from him again. He’d be another soul lost to your devastation. Another broken person you made by knowing you. He’d realise how you tainted him, recognise you as sickness, and cut you off. And you couldn’t be mad at him when he did it. Because he would be right. 

Or he would defend you. All that Peter Parker love pouring from him, insisting that everyone is good and deserves a chance. He would ignore all of your words, writing them off as nonsense. And maybe, maybe you’d start to believe him. You’d let him convince you that you’re okay. But soon, he would realise that he was wrong about you. 

Either way, he would leave you. So maybe if you push him now, it won’t hurt so bad later. If you don’t let him build you up, you won’t fall as far. 

So you said nothing, holding his gaze until you couldn’t anymore. His face shifted again, and you couldn’t take it. It was too much. It was your fault. You managed to roll over from your side to your stomach. You paid no mind to the various objects falling off the couch; you didn’t care that Peter had to dodge the debris. Especially when it distracted him long enough to let you hide. You buried your face into your crossed arms but didn’t close your eyes, the dark pocket you created being more than enough. 

You felt hollow. Like life had finally broken you, taken everything that you were. You weren’t yourself anymore, just a husk. One that wouldn’t eat, or change clothes, or leave the house. But you weren’t empty. No, you had been carved out, but disgust and anger filled you now. But those big feelings left you feeling tired, tired constantly. No sleep was restful, no break long enough. It was baked in, carried in your bone marrow. 

Peter was silent and you listened closely to his breathing. You couldn’t understand why he hadn’t given up yet, why he was sticking by your side. So you told him to leave. 

You waited patiently for him to shout, for his footsteps to fade away, but he didn’t. He remained there, where you could feel his eyes on you. It was pissing you off. 

“Leave!” you tried again, the sharpness of your tone muffled by the couch cushions. 

You waited again, and this time, you heard movement. You heard a piece of silverware land softly on the coffee table and trash move around the floor. Finally, you thought. But then you felt a weight lean against the couch, then soft noises coming from a phone. 

You peeked your head out to see Peter sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, scrolling through Instagram. He didn’t chuckle or laugh. He wasn’t really looking at his phone. His eyes were darting over to you every few seconds. You knew he knew you were watching him. This game went on for a long time. Nearly an hour passed in silence, one watching the other. 

“I’m not leaving,” he said eventually, “not without you.”

That exhaustion was melting now, and all that left you with was anger. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, then tucked your head back into your arms.

“I don’t think you mean that.”

Oh, fuck him. You snapped up, your arms supporting your body as you glared at him from the couch. He looked surprised, but not frightened. Peter had put himself in a terrible position. You were swirling with hatred, and now he had made himself a target. You couldn’t help the words tumbling from your mouth. 

“You don’t get to tell me what I mean!” you shouted, your voice crackling like flames. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel! You don’t get to come in here where you’re not wanted and fuck with me. I don’t want you here! I don’t want to see you again!”

He winced at your words, and that made you feel a little powerful. You were hurting so much, seeing him feel a fraction of it made it feel smaller. 

“I haven’t talked to you in days and you think, ‘Oh, I’ll just pop over.’ What a fucking joke!”

You laugh, though there’s no humour in it. 

“I was worried.”

His eyes are wet again– his voice is so small –like he was seconds from breaking. 

Good. Let him break as I have. Maybe then he can see, and understand. Or maybe he’ll leave, get the hell out of dodge. Doesn’t matter.

“No, you were selfish,” You bite. “You got lonely and figured I would be there. You didn’t want to think I just didn’t want you anymore, so you showed up. Because you know no one comes looking for you. Not without the suit.”

You watch as he recoils. He’s looking at you like a monster, and he should. You are. His mouth hangs open, his eyes locked onto yours. The air feels stiff, like a sheet of glass waiting to be shattered. He sniffled a little, and suddenly you didn’t feel so powerful. The game’s not fun if he’s not yelling back. He’s not telling you that you’re right or wrong, he’s not mad. He’s just hurt. 

The anger drops from your face and now your eyes are wet too. You feel like you might vomit, but you know that’s just a bluff. You can’t remember the last time you ate something. Or more than three bites. Food doesn’t smell yummy anymore; it doesn’t taste flavorful. Your empty stomach isn’t as noticeable, and chewing is too much work for such little payoff.

Peter’s eyes soften slightly, like something’s clicked for him. His brows pull down and his lips pout.

Pity. He’s showing pity. You’ve hurt him, and he pities you.

You rise quickly, and Peter is quick to his feet to meet you there.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your mouth as you feel your breath quicken. You were going to break down again. “You should leave.”

You pushed past him, ignoring his calls after you. You beat him to your bedroom, where you shut and lock the door. Both hands cover your mouth as the tears begin falling and your chest starts heaving. It hurts; the muscles sore from how often this seems to happen.

You hear him jiggle the handle, calling your name through the door, begging you to open it. You sink down, your shirt bunching against the wood as you descend. But you wait. You can’t let it out now, not with him here. He shouldn’t have to see this. He shouldn’t have to put up with it.

Eventually, the knocking stops, and you hear him walk away. You wait longer still until you finally hear the front door open and close.

Then you scream.

It’s deep and guttural. A middle finger to the universe. It’s pure agony released from your throat. It’s all the words you can’t say fast enough. A battle cry from a broken soldier.

You continue to weep, crawling towards your bed, littered with clean clothes you haven’t folded, books you haven’t picked up, and various other trinkets you haven’t put away. But then the exhaustion comes back.

You curl in around yourself, crying out again in frustration.

You’re weak. You’re tired. You’re cruel. You’re pathetic. You’re fat. You’re too skinny. You’re disgusting. You’re heedless. You’re everything, but never enough.

Peter had never felt so defeated. He could see that you needed him, but you didn’t want him. That wasn’t a new feeling to Peter. He had long ago abandoned any hope that you would see him as more than a friend. Even if everyone you ever dated left much to be desired, you didn’t want him. 

But this was different. This was something he hadn’t seen before. 

He had gotten close. May had gotten pretty close herself. But it was never that. Whatever you were dealing with-- however you were dealing with it-- he didn’t know what to do with it. 

You had never looked at him like that before, so full of hate. You had ripped him to shreds on your living room floor. Your words hurt, and it looked like you wanted them to. Like you enjoyed hurting him. It was scary. But then he saw it. That glint of fear in your eyes. The regret falling on your brows. And when you looked like you might cry, he knew. 

That was something he did recognise, something he had seen in himself many years ago. The need to hurt. That primal urge to rip everything around you to ribbons. So it can look as ugly as you. 

He followed you to your door, beginning to understand the hurt you were feeling. He didn’t want that for you. He wished he could remove it like a faulty wire, but you shut yourself off. He could hear your ragged breathing on the other side of the door, even through his pounding and shouting. But you wouldn’t open up, and he couldn’t do anything until you did. 

He weighed his options and tried his best to leave. He wanted to trust that you would be okay, that you would someday unlock the door, but for now, he had to leave you be. 

He picked up his stuff, made a mental note to come back and help you clean, and stepped outside. Before he released the handle, he heard you scream. A very real scream. He moved with urgency, panic rising in him. He fumbled with the key in his hands painted with red and blue nail polish. It was chipped from the many years of hanging on his keychain. 

He called out to you but got no response. You continued to howl from the other room, and he rushed there. Trying the handle, he cursed, finding it still locked. He had never heard a noise like that before. Your guttural wailing filled his mind. He had one thought, banging and pulsing through his head: Save her. Save her. Save her. Save her. 

He didn’t want to kick down the door and frighten you, so he spun hopelessly outside it, fingers tangled in his hair as he tried to make use of his big brain. There was pounding mixing in with your cries now, and Peter felt scared that you were reaching a peak he wouldn’t be able to get you down from. 

He threw his backpack to the floor and began opening pockets. His eyes glanced over his wallet, and then he dove for it, pulling out the library card you made him get. You had drawn on it because he complained about how boring it looked. It was the spiderweb in the corner that caught his eye now. From it hung a little spider, but its abdomen was shaped like a heart. He had teased you relentlessly for it at the time, pointing out its anatomical incorrectness. You told him it was a reminder, but for what you never said. 

He pushed the thought aside, sliding the card between the door jamb and the lock latch, wiggling it until he felt it release. Your cries could be heard from the other side, so he steeled himself. You needed him, and you needed him strong. He could do that for you. He could do anything for you. 

He was taken aback, for a moment, by the display before him, his lips parting in a gasp. You thrashed about, showing rage in your despair. He felt a wave of disgust for himself. He supposed he had let this happen, let you stew too long. 

All this time, he thought you were fine. In the same way he was always ‘fine’. But every time he wasn’t, you were there. You were by his side, ready to talk him down. But him? He just waited for you to do it on your own.

He would see the signs and put his head in the sand, remembering how embarrassing it is when someone notices and asks. Remembering the rage that would boil up in him, as if this person could even begin to understand where he was coming from. But he forgot how much he needed it too. How much that small kindness meant. He forgot the value of a shoulder to cry on and an ear to hear, even if they don’t understand. 

But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He can’t focus on what he could have done, only what he can now. Because you’re here now, and he wants you around later. 

He drops to his knees, his hands coming out to hold you before he stops himself. He calls out softly instead. 

It’s apparent to him that you didn’t realise he was there, your wild eyes scanning over him, trying to decipher if he’s real. Your chest heaves as you lay on the ground, your face swollen and red. His heart breaks, for a moment, whispering an apology you don’t hear. 

It hurts to have him look at you like that– to see you like this. But this is what you were afraid of, him seeing you and running. But so far, he hasn’t. And you’re selfish, bordering on desperate. It doesn’t matter why he’s here; it just matters that he is. And as much as you desperately want him to leave, to forget you and move on, you can’t help clinging to him. 

The one ray of sunshine you have. The one who always gets it even if he doesn’t. The one that remembers to get things in your favourite colour and reminds you to change your water filter. Your rock. And you could use a rock right now, and you can't bring yourself to worry about it destroying him. 

You begin heaving again, and Peter panics, still unsure how to help you. His eyes are too much, so you roll around onto your belly, your legs curled up underneath, your forehead against the carpet. Your hands are wrapped around your gut as everything in you comes out. All the rage, and despair, and confusion leaking through your broken cries. 

Peter only intervenes when your fists start slamming down against your stomach. You can feel his hand trembling as it grabs yours, and you scream again. His hand retracts, uncertain how to move forward. 

Snot is running down your face, and you can feel some dribble on your chin. You feel like a child. You feel like a disgusting mess. He shouldn’t have to see you like this. 

It hurts, god, it hurts so much!

His name leaves your lips, broken and frayed around the consonants, and he scoots closer. 

“What?” He asks, sounding nearly as broken as you. “What can I do?”.

“Peter- Peter, please fix it!” 

You’re not sure why you asked. You weren’t sure what he could do. But you knew he would do it. That’s what he does, fix things. He fixed your laptop, and May’s stove, and your bad study habits, and your sour mood. He always did and asked for nothing in return. 

But maybe this was too big of an ask. How could he fix this- A chemical imbalance that you’ve been fighting your entire life? How could he fix what doctors hadn’t? What if you couldn’t be fixed?

You slammed your fist back into you, each hit punctuated with an insult.

Disgusting Pathetic Selfish Broken Useless Dumb Weak

But then, you felt gentle, shaking hands once again. His touch was warm but different from the fire you felt inside. It didn’t burn, but sooth. He had come up behind you and guided your arms tighter around yourself, using his to keep them there, coaxing you into sitting up and resting against him.

He was all around you now; his heart beat steadily against your back, even as yours pounded fiercely. You screamed again, but this time Peter didn’t let go. He held you tighter, hoping desperately that if he held on harder, he could keep you from slipping away. That you would feel his love on your skin. That he could shove the broken pieces back together enough to help you set them right.

Your head hurts; pressure building behind your eyes. But you felt safe, even in this pain. Because Peter was here, holding you tightly. He was here, even if he shouldn’t be. He was here. And you found yourself relaxing into his hold, melting against him.

Your sobbing fell into a quiet whimpering, letting him soothe you with gentle shushes and his forehead resting on the side of yours. He readjusted his hold on you, rubbing up and down on your arm with one hand and pulling you closer with the other. You hung loosely like you had lost the strength to hold yourself up. Peter swore you wouldn’t have to. 

“I got you,” he whispered, placing a kiss where his head once was. 

Soon, your cries became sniffles, and you turned around to face Peter. His face seemed sad, maybe even tired, but he smiled at you nonetheless. It wasn’t out of sympathy, but true and genuine. That was still too much, feeling embarrassed by your current state, so you hid. 

Peter let you wrap your arms and legs around him, trying not to shiver as your nose rubbed against his neck. He pulled you into his lap, relishing in your tight hold. You were coming back to him. 

He rubbed soothing patterns on your back, resting his head against yours while whispering encouragements. 

“Good job, sweetie, you’re breathing so well for me. That’s right, big breaths, you got it.”

The world slowly stopped spinning, and your body stopped spazzing. You got the feeling back in your fingertips, running them in circles across Peter’s back, trying to recalibrate. He breathed with you, praising for each one you took. 

Then, you were still, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Peter could feel your eyelashes slowly brush against his neck as you blinked.

“Hey,” he called softly. You hummed, and he was grateful. “I know you're tired, but you should take a bath first.”

You shook your head no, curling into him deeper. His heart panged, wanting desperately to hold onto you longer, but not like this.

He scooped you up, and you whined, wrapping your legs around him tighter as his arm came around to hold your hips. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but you weren’t used to being toted around.

He let you cling to him as he began filling the bath, making sure the water was warm but wouldn’t hurt. He then travelled to the laundry room to grab some fresh towels and threw in some bubble bath he had found under the sink.

“Come on, baby,” he tried, “In the bath, you go.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the nickname and tried not to think about how much you didn’t want Peter to let go. 

It’s not him, You told yourself, he’s just here. 

But it didn’t sound very convincing, not even to you. But regardless of your wishes, you knew he wouldn't always be, and what would you do when he left? You’d probably end up on the floor again, or worse. 

“I’ll still be here when you’re done,” He said, as if he could read your thoughts, “I promise a bath will make you feel better.”

You took a deep breath, raising your head to look into his eyes. Galaxies lived there, swirling and teeming with life. Every emotion, every thought, bubbling in his irises. And one came through over all of them, ringing through the silence. 

Love.

You saw it there as he looked at you. How could this be?

Love.

Had he not seen how monstrous you could be, how depraved and insane you truly were? How could he possibly find it in him to still love you? And how could you let something like that go? He had a love for you that you didn’t have for yourself, but you needed it.

You nodded your head, pushing the thought aside, as you rose on shaking legs. Peter smiled, then left, grinning at you through the crack in the door.

“Thank you,” he said before closing it behind him.

You peeled off your sweat-soaked clothes, feeling embarrassed once again when you realised you were only in a t-shirt and a pair of underwear this entire time. Peter was a very good friend, and you couldn’t imagine why he was thanking you for anything.

You got into the water, your muscles relaxing as soon as they broke the barrier. You stretched, letting yourself sink deeper into the water. You lay there for a moment, relishing in the peace, in the momentary break in misery.

You dunk your head under the water, holding your breath and counting. You come up gasping, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You feel alive again.

You do that a few more times before actually washing your body. You try not to wince as you scrub the film from your body and hair. You took the time to pamper yourself, letting the lavender scent surround you. You even shaved so you could curl up in your fuzzy blanket later and just feel the softness. Peter was right- a bath made you feel a lot better.

You wrapped yourself up in your towel, feeling fresh and a lot less heavy, and opened the door. Peter was there sitting on your floor, thumbing through your record collection. You gasped at the vision around you, and Peter jumped up, a smile on his face.

“Hey, you’re back!” He saw your surprise and hastily apologized, “I hope you don’t mind. Just thought I’d put on some music.”

You shook your head at the man, ignoring his apology completely. You didn't care about the music. Your eyes wandered around the made bed, with fresh sheets, and the clothes that once occupied them neatly folded. The dirty clothes on your floor were gone, the hamper was empty, and when you listened carefully, you could hear the washing machine running in the other room.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” you said, embarrassment rising to your cheeks. 

“It’s all good,” he brushed off, like it was nothing. “I pulled these out for you to change into, but you can- you can wear whatever, of course. And...I don't have to tell you that.”

The way he fumbled over his words was adorable, but you remembered then that you were only in a towel, standing in front of your best friend. You clutched it tighter, and he seemed to notice then too. Redness grew from his neck to his cheeks, and he quickly turned around.

“Sorry!” He shouted. Then calmly, “Sorry, I’ll uh- I’ll let you change.”

You reached for the pyjamas he set out and slipped them on. It felt nice. I mean, the pj’s weren’t new, but wearing something Peter picked out for you, with you in mind, felt…sweet. And they were extremely comfortable. You smiled softly as you smoothed out the fabric, then opened the door. 

Peter was standing just on the other side with his back turned to it, but upon hearing the handle, he turned. His eyes quickly skated over your form before he beamed at you. You invited him into your room and turned down the record he had put on so it was softly playing in the background. 

He stood awkwardly in your room, hands in his pockets, like he didn't know what to do next. You felt a similar way, sitting back on your bed. The silence was loud; both of you stuck between wanting to ask a million questions and not sure how to make the words right. 

You figured he had done enough of the work today; you could try for him. 

“I’m sorry,” you began. 

He turned to you, worry written across his brows and a retort on his lips, but you cut him off. 

“I- I was cruel to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

His face falls as he sighs, then trudges over to sit at your side with heavy feet.

“It’s okay-” he begins. 

“Don’t say that,” You spit, some of that anger you tried to bury coming back. Peter stilled, and you felt bad, but he had to hear you. It was important. “Don’t say that how I treated you was acceptable because it wasn’t. You don’t deserve that from anyone. If I had seen someone speak to you that way– or ignore you the way I did –I would have killed them. I don’t get to lash out at you like that, okay?”

Peter’s eyes were twinkling again, and you couldn’t understand it.

“You- you shouldn’t have to put with it,” you continue shakily, “and I don’t think you should stick around.”

Peter rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“Tough luck.”

You look at him baffled, but he remains unfazed.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he explains, “I spend most of my days chasing people who actually want me dead. You having a little outburst because you’re hurting and you don’t know how to say it? I can handle that.”

He grabs your hand, and you try to stop the butterflies taking flight within you.

“You disappearing for a few days? That’s nothing. Me leaving?” He laughs full-on now; it rolls through him, blooming from his chest, “That’s never gonna happen.”

“Peter-” you try, but it’s he who cuts you off now.

“No, I’m not hearing any of it. I’m not going anywhere,” he insists. “I’m not leaving you again. I will be right here, for as long as you need me, and even when you don’t.”

His hold on your hand is tighter now, as if he’s trying to press the promise into you. Placing it in your hand and hoping you never let it go. Or maybe it was more than the promise. You look into his eyes, and you see it again– love. You can’t make sense of it. Over and over again, that look. One you’ve seen so many times. Why?

“Because you shouldn’t have to do it alone.” He answers your silent question, “Because I don’t want you to do it alone, not when I’m right here.”

He lifts your hand and puts it over his heart. You can feel how fast it’s beating. Yours flutters in a similar way. It’s terrifying and thrilling, this promise he makes. You want Peter there, always. That’s why he has a key, free to pop into your life whenever he finds the time. Because you always want him there. It’s why he’s your emergency contact and the only person you trust (other than May, but you would never ask it of her) to water your plants when you’re away. 

But if he stays, you’ll grow attached. More attached, at least. He’s seen one of many battles in a war you’ve been losing for as long as you can remember. He’s crazy enough to think he can handle more when you barely can yourself. But maybe that’s what you need, someone to fight with you. Someone to fight for. 

You bring your arm around his neck, pulling him into a jarring hug. He accepts it, pulling you closer. You’re trembling ever so slightly, but you’re not fighting him anymore. He knows what this means. You’re letting him stay, and he’s so grateful. 

You allow yourself to just breathe with him- to let him be here, and hold you. You never got that before, and accepting it now is hard, but you can do it.

“Do you wanna stay the night and watch some b-horror films?” you asked.

Peter smiled against you, and your heart leapt at the action. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You feel a bit selfish as he steps into the bathroom to change into comfier clothes, as he crawls into bed and lets you curl into him, as he drapes his arm around you and holds you close. You can’t give him what he wants right now, what he deserves, but you want to. It’s hard, it’s terrifying, but you know that you can. You can do it for him. You're strong enough.

Tag List: @actuallypeterparker, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @mirrorballin24, @miwagila, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @onlyangel-444, @preciousbabypeter, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @remuslupinsdocs, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @supernerdycookietrashblrr, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz

#rancid writes #tasm peter parker x reader #andrew peter parker #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman x reader #peter parker fic #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm 2 #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter imagine #the amazing spider man #spiderman #tasm #peter Parker imagines #spider-man imagines #spiderman x y/n #spider man x reader

[reidslovely]

Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?” 

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder. 

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.” 

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away. 

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?” 

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying. 

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?” 

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply. 

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round. 

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away. 

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps. 

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.” 

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt. 

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope. 

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out. 

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about. 

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can. 

“This is nice.” 

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.” 

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer. 

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you. 

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.” 

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly. 

“How do you feel Parker?” 

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.” 

“I hate sex after dinner.” 

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.” 

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock. 

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.” 

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #bambi writes #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter #tasm peter smut #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff #andrew peter parker #tasm peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #frat!peter

[bitchyycapricorn]

Warm Shower and Soft Kisses

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.3k

Synopsis: Peter takes care of you after you after you disappear for a week.

Warnings: Fluff!!, hurt/comfort, Peter taking care of his girl, Shower with Peter, technical nudity but no smut or descriptions.

AN: Can be imagined as any Peter, gif is just tasm. Lightly edited. Also I’m currently working on two requests so stay tuned <3

A chilly breeze rushes through your room, waking you from your slumber. Your eyes flutter open and lock on your open window that’s letting in the cold November breeze. “Fuck,” you mumble as you bury yourself deeper into your duvet, far too lazy to get up and actually shut the window. You’ve been like this for almost a week now, a lethargic shell of your former self hiding in your room away from the problems of the word.

You haven’t been up more than 10 times since it all started. You refuse to move unless you have to go to the bathroom, and even then you do that begrudgingly. On top of your refusal to move unless absolutely necessary, you find yourself calling out of work most days, unable to handle the thought of dealing with people. You’re also skipping classes and ignoring everyone’s attempts to contact you.

Your biggest issue at the current moment is Peter Parker, your boyfriend. He stops by your place at least twice a day since you disappearance. Your parents always sending him away per your request. You felt horrible for pushing Peter away, but you felt so sick and the thought of being with another person exhausts you. Your whole body was aching just from you laying silently below your covers after all.

Your quiet day comes to an end just as quickly as it starts when you hear Peter slipping through your window. “Y/N?” He whispers, approaching your shaking body that’s huddled under a pile of blankets. “Baby, what’s going on? Are you sick?” You feel him peeling the blankets off you, revealing just how horrible you look. Your eyes have heavy eye bag’s despite you sleeping most of your days, and it’s clear you haven’t showered since your disappearance.

When you look up you’re met with a face of concern. “Hi,” you say meekly. Your voice feels scratchy in your throat as you speak for the first time in a few days.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Peter presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “Sweetheart…”

You give Peter a small smile before feeling suddenly embarrassed, you can’t even remember at this point the last time you brushed your teeth. A frown settles on your face as you look up at Peter once more. “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” You whisper.

Peter frowns, stroking your cheek. “I can help you get a shower if you’d like baby?” You nod slowly, grateful for your boyfriends offer. You place your hand in his and allow him to lift you up and out of bed. You latch onto Peters arm the moment you stand up. It’s abundantly clear just how shaky your legs feel due to the lack of use.

Peter guides your wobbling body into your bathroom, turning on the lights and fan in the process. The bright lights are overwhelming as you sit on the bathroom sink, watching as Peter starts the shower for you. “Come on pretty girl, let’s get you cleaned up.” Peter smiles as he gently kisses your cheek.

You watch as Peter strips out of his clothes before helping you out of your own. The cool air sends a shiver down your spine. You take a moment to enjoy being out of your dirty cloths as Peter leads you under the warm water.

“Better?” He asks as he gently massages your scalp while placing kisses all over your face.

“Much,” you sigh, allowing your body to relax under his touch. You wait patiently as Peter lathers up his hands with Shampoo, just wanting to feel his hands in your hair again.

“Shall we get your hair washed m’lady?” Peters asks, not really waiting for a response since his fingers are already tangling in your hair before he finishes his sentence. You let out a small moan at the sensation of his fingers giving your scalp a deep massage. Every muscle in your body seems to let go in that moment, putting you into a state of calm.

Peter pulls away from your hair momentarily, lathering conditioner onto his hands before returning to your hair. “Thank you Peter,” you whisper softly, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles.

You allow yourself to soak up the sensation of being clean along with Peters gentle hands slowly rubbing the soap bar all over your body.

“You look so pretty right now, I hope you know that.” Peter coos, also enjoying the feeling of his hands gently lathering soap into your plush skin. He’s been worrying sick about you for essentially the last week. Since you didn’t return a single phone call and when he knocks on the door your mom always tells him you aren’t feeling well.

You’ve been on Peters mind since the day of your mini disappearance, making him feel sick and lonely without you at night. He was missing the sound of your voice, the way you giggle and laugh, your bright smile and witty jokes. He was missing every inch of you, and now that you’re finally back in his arms he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle having to go home again.

You were both so caught up in one another’s presence you only notice how long it’s been when the water starts to get cold. You both let out a small laugh, rinsing off before hopping out of the shower.

Peter helps to dry your shivering body, hoping to warm you up as quick as possible. You aid Peter in drying off as well, wanting to help him like he’s been helping you.

Peter ruffles your hair in the towel before wrapping it around you once again and making his way to your sink to grab a toothbrush. He quickly gets some toothpaste and wets the brush, helping to ease it in your mouth.

He didn’t question why you haven’t showered it brushed your teeth, rather he just silently helps you do so, sprinkling words of encouragement along the way. “You’re doing great sweetheart, you have such a pretty smile you know.” Peter says as he continues to help you brush your teeth.

Despite your exhaustion you find the energy to throw your arms around Peter, toothbrush still sticking out of your mouth. He lets out a small laugh, hugging you back and kissing all over your face.

“Come on, let’s finish brushing your teeth so I can kiss your pretty lips,” Peter urges, as he helps you finish up. Once your teeth are clean Peter makes sure to press five kisses to your lips immediately, savoring the feeling of your lips on his.

“I should probably get dressed before we keep kissing,” you tease, starting to feel like yourself again.

“Mhm, how about some warm fuzzy pajamas?” Peter offers as he leads you over to the closet. He shuffle through some options before setting on your red t-shirt and short pajama set. “This one’s my favorite on you, and I know you’ve said it’s the most comfortable.” Peter smiles as he helps you into your cloths. He shuffles through some of the cloths he left at your place, throwing on a pair of boxers before leading you over to your bed.

“Peter?” You whisper, looking up at your boyfriend as you sit on your bed.

“Yes baby?” He hums, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you cuddle me? Please?” You beg, craving Peters soft touch once again.

“Anything for you love, come on, crawl under the covers.” He replies as he helps you situate. He slowly pulls the covers up and around you both, holding you in his arms tightly.

“I love you Peter,” you say softly, feeling your eyes grow heavy once more.

“I love you too Y/N,” Peter hums, kissing your forehead one last time before you fall into a deep slumber.

+++

TAGLIST

#peter parker spiderman #tasm peter #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #mcu peter parker x reader #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter x you #tasm andrew garfield #tom holland #tom peter parker #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #mcu fandom #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter x reader #tasm #tasm peter imagines #mcu peter imagines

[kingnormality]

photo dump

#happy chrmas #digital art #spiderman fanart #spiderman #peter b parker fanart #peter parker fanart #peter parker #andrew peter parker #deadpool fanart #deadpool #wade wilson fanart #wade wilson #spideypool #comic spidey

[emocheremuha]

💗Barbie meme💗 pretended to be cosplayers(?)

#spideypool fanart #amazing spider man #artists on tumblr #deadpool #spideypool #digital artist #barbie meme #andrew peter parker

[backtothefanfiction]

A Christmas Blessing: The Gift of Moving On | frat!Peter Imagine

Summary: You and your boyfriend had a messy breakup at Halloween. Almost two months later you think you’re ready to move on, even if he’s still holding on.

Warnings: jealousy, messy break up, sweet Peter, fluff

Word Count: 1K+ (wrote in app again so not completely sure)

A/N; it’s Christmas party season and I was scrolling through fics when this idea came to me so here we go.

He couldn’t help but watch you. It had always been the way. Ever since his frat brother had brought you back to the house that first time. Peter was mesmerised. By your hair, your eyes, the way you dressed. The way you had 5 different laughs. The way you always found time to say hi to him when you came over to the house. If you came over before Matt had gotten back from the library or a lecture or wherever the heck he was, you’d grab a drink for the two of you and just sit with him and talk. It was always just so easy for you both to talk.

It had only gotten worse after you and Matt broke up at Halloween. You’d caught him hiding out in one of the upstairs rooms of a party over at the Theta Beta Phi house, making out with some girl in a slutty super girl costume. The argument the two of you had had, instantly killed the party. Peter had gotten so angry with Matt when he’d found out what he’d done. If the party hadn’t been over when you walked out, it definitely was after he punched Matt in the face on the front lawn.

He couldn’t help but watch you now. Your gaze was focused on something in the adjacent room. Your cup was held frozen in mid air near your chin with one hand, while your other arm wrapped protectively across your chest. You were stood alone, your back to a messy stack of shelves. Where once you looked so comfortable at parties surrounded by friends, now you just looked like you’d rather be elsewhere. And that made Peter sad.

“What are you staring at?” He asked as he approached, but as soon as he was stood in the right angle to follow your gaze, he knew exactly what you were looking at.

Matt stood in the hallway with the girl from the Halloween party. However instead of her slutty super girl outfit, she wore a slutty Santa costume. She was giggling at every word he said. His finger reached out to play with her hair. He took one look in the direction of Peter and you, before he plucked the girls hat off of her head and placed it on top of his own, his body shuffling closer to her.

“It’s like watching a car crash.” You say to Peter. “She doesn’t even realise he isn’t actually into her. He’s just trying to make me jealous.”

“How come?”

“Because I wouldn’t take him back.” You said, finally looking away from them as you took a sip of your drink.

“Good. I’m glad.” Peter said, only slightly fumbling over his words. “I mean, he was a dick and you are way too good for him.”

“Are you allowed to say that?” You question as you adorably tilt your head at him. “Isn’t he your fraternity brother. Isn’t that part of the brotherhood and the pact, to always have each other’s backs.”

“Yeah but I think the rules my Aunt and Uncle taught me about not being a dick to women kind of overrule any fraternity pacts or rules.”

“Well,” you say, lifting your cup towards him for him to cheers with his own, “I guess that must make you a rare breed of man, Peter Parker.”

Your words make him blush as he looks down into his cup as you take a sip from your own.

You both stand with each other in awkward silence for a moment until another fake giggle draws your attention back into the hallway where Matt is now making out with the skinny blonde in the red and white mini skirt. His hand groping at her ass for everyone to see. Peter’s head turns back to looking at you as the expression on your face turns sour.

“He looks like he’s trying to swallow her face.” You comment. “Please tell me we never looked like that.” Peter’s brow furrows, so you elaborate. “When we were drunk making out at parties. Please tell me we didn’t look like that.”

“You didn’t look like that.” He said as you both watched Matt and the girl break apart only long enough for her to giggle, take his hand and starting leading him upstairs.

“I’m sorry.” Peter says.

His statement throws you. It takes you a moment to work out why. It’s because you’re relaxed. For the first time in weeks, your chest feels steady and not jittery. Your mind is calm and not racing a hundred miles a second with a thousand different hypothetical’s. You don’t feel intimidated by Matt or the girl. You feel sorry for them. You think on the way he had come grovelling to you just days ago, begging for your forgiveness only to now be shoving his tongue down another girls throat.

“Don’t be sorry.” You turn and say to him. “She can have him.” And it’s then you really look at Peter. He’s handsome, despite the bleached blonde hair he currently had because of some dare. He’s not like those other frat boys. He has a moral code. He’s always been friendly to you and if rumours are true, he stuck up for you after you had left the Halloween party.

“So um, are you headed home for the Christmas-“

“Would you like to go out with me?” You suddenly asked him, catching him off guard.

“Um uh, like right now or?”

“Or later. Tomorrow? Friday night? Whenever.”

“Uh um, uh,” he struggles with his words, his wildest dreams coming true like it’s some Christmas miracle. “Yes. Yes!” He finally gets out. There’s a pause between you both before he says, “Are you sure? I mean, it’s not too soon or-“

“No. I’m sure.” You smile at him and he feels like the cow that just jumped over the moon. “It’s just,” you say, bashfully looking down into your cup, “I just realised that I don’t think I was ever really supposed to be with Matt, you know.”

The way you look at Peter says so much. It’s always been easy for you two to talk to each other and it seems that also goes for silent conversations as you slowly inch closer to one another.

Before he knows it, he’s reaching a hand up to your face, guiding you closer to his own. You don’t protest as he kisses you, instead breathing a deep sigh of relief. Yeah, you thought to yourself, she can have your shitty ex boyfriend, you have something better right here.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter parker #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #frat!peter x reader #frat!peter #fluff #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #andrew!peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #spider-man #tasm!peter parker #andrew peter parker #andrew peter imagine

[lxinesux]

i’m holding my breath for you

Characters: Tasm!Peter Parker

Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader

Summary: Reader regrets her time with Peter and attempts to push him away to get her friendship back. Peter does not take it well. Smut ensues.

Warnings: Blood, Fingering,Loss of Virginity, Floor + Counter Sex, Creampie, mildly dark!Peter, Possessive Sex

A/N: There’s a read more because this gets smuttyish pretty early. love creepy peter, hes just a liddle freak 😭. this is the unexpected second part of a story i posted in june-ish. read the first part here!

It had happened, it was real.

He got to touch the untouchable-make you cry out and cum and squirm. He did that. He had been the first to do that.

He’d wanted to fuck you-either with his fingers or his cock-but you were way too spent. He teased you relentlessly in the shower-chasing water droplets that ran over your body with his mouth, touching you all over, kissing you roughly against the shower wall.

You were irresistible, adorable, as you shied away from him, trying to keep his hands above your waist.

“I don’t think…I can’t…”

You could. You could come again. Over and over and over until you couldn’t stand. But he didn’t want to push you. That had been your first orgasm with another person. Stamina could be worked on later.

You were in your head, too. He could tell. You were never the most talkative but there was something going on between your ears he desperately wanted to know about.

Did you regret it? What happened?

Fuck. Did you not trust him anymore?

Was there a way for him to regain that trust?

-

He corners you in the kitchen, the smallest room in the entire apartment. It was very easy to do, given how small you were in comparison to him.

“We have to talk.”

“About what?” You turn away from him, trying to organize the groceries you bought on your measly paycheck. There wasn’t much, and he could tell you were avoiding him. You could only pick up and put down the same clementine before it became personal.

“About…that.”

“No, we don’t.”

His heart breaks a little.

He thought he’d made his case very clear and apparent.

He was in love with you. Had been for a very long time.

“I haven’t felt the way I do about you since…”

The silence lingers heavily in the kitchen. Your spine is ramrod straight, shoulders tensed. And you’re not looking at him.

Looking like a perfect soldier. Looking like you weren’t human, but a perfect robotic clone. The portrait of frigidity.

His stomach twists. Okay. Alright.

“Forget I said anything. We can just…we can go back to where we were before.”

“Can we?”

The knife between his ribs twists. Wonderful. Great.

“I don’t see why not. We can just..forget this happened.”

“Peter…”

He brushes past you, “Gotta head out.”

“Peter, wait-”

“‘Ts fine. There’s nothing left to say, fresh restart. Factory settings. Just…stop.”

And you do stop. You watch helplessly as he crawls out of the window and into the frigid night air.

-

Peter was avoiding you entirely.

You attempt to wait up for him, now that he’d made a habit of going on patrol without you. But more than once, you would fall asleep.

You found yourself missing him. The smell of his skin, his hair tickling your nose, the feeling of his arms around you while you slept.

The few times you saw each other in the apartment, he was curt if he made conversation at all. Not even a good morning or good night, just ‘hey’ and ‘bye.’

You’d rather be in the basement at Oscorp getting your brain scrambled than deal with this pain.

-

You had gone on your own patrol and had gotten back way past mid morning in an attempt not to run into Peter. You’d changed into your civies and walked through the front door-

There’s a stranger in your apartment.

She must have not seen you or if she’d seen you, she didn’t care. The entire apartment smells like breakfast-smoky and sweet alongside the bitter sting of coffee.

And she’s wearing Peter’s favorite t-shirt.

It’s fucking Lucy. Lucy from fucking accounting. She couldn’t figure out how to use the copy machine. The goddamn copy machine!

And she was in your shared apartment.

She had slept here, had slept in Peter’s bed, your bed.

She fucked your Peter.

The kitchen isn’t that large, the aisle blocking off the living room is short enough that the two of you make eye contact as soon as she turns her head.

“Lucy, I told you to-” Peter’s voice comes from behind you.

“Get the fuck out of our house.”

How dare he. How fucking dare he. Fucking sleep with some random girl beause you wanted space? You wanted his friendship back and he fucks LUCY?

Her lips are parting, like she wants to say something. Her hand is on her hips, like you’re just some girl in competition. Like you didn’t know how to break her neck in a millisecond, like you didn’t have the training to ruin that pretty face.

In an instant, she was an enemy and your programming slams into overdrive. You’re up and over the counter in a millisecond, the t-shirt bunched into your first.

Superhuman strength is a blessing and a curse. You only mean to maybe shove her lightly.

What you do instead is leave a Lucy sized hole in the cheap door to your apartment. She lands at the end of the hall. Every door on the floor is flung open, revealing shock and amused faces alike-all of them turned to you.

-

“You’re so lucky we weren’t evicted,” He sighed, “And that Lucy was only a little bruised.”

A little bruised was an understatement. Lucy has a contusion in her shoulder that’ll take weeks to heal.

You tried not to look too pleased at the news as you helped Peter install the new door.

“She’s lucky she was only bruised,” You breathe through your nose.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Why did you even bring her here? Couldn’t you guys shack up at her place or something?”

“I didn’t think you’d be back before morning.” He actually has the grace to look guilty, maybe a little sad.

“Whatever.”

More silence.

You chew diligently on your bottom lip until he speaks.

“I’m sorry. It’s been weird these past few weeks. I think…I think it’d be best if I moved out?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, you’re actually comfortable like this? We nearly fuck, we kiss. You mauled my one-night stand! You push me away, you try to reel me back in. Forgive me for getting mixed signals!” His hands move into his hair, running his fingers through it, “I can’t do this anymore, I really can’t! Seeing you, it’s like…it’s fucking torture. I can’t do it.”

“You don’t talk to me for weeks and this is what you have to say!? You think this is easy for me?! God, Peter! I don’t know how to feel about you! I’m a fucking lab experiment gone rogue! I’m barely a person! What part of that screams girlfriend material to you!”

“I’ll let the landlord know I’m getting off the lease. I’ll be out at the end of the month.”

“So that’s it?”

“I can call Stark back, so you aren’t by yourself. I know you hate that. I don’t want you to have to be alone. We just…can’t be alone together. Not like this. Not until I’m over this…”

“Fuck you, Peter Parker.”

The new door slams, the hinges cracking.

-

You’re awake for hours, waiting for him to come home. You smell him before you see him.

Blood. You smell blood, thick and salty, and wrong on Peter.

His suit has been shredded along his abdomen, the blood making the spandex cling to the open wounds.

He nearly falls through the window and you catch him before he hits the floor. Guilt is swift and immediate.

Wordlessly, you help him to the bathroom. He doesn’t fuss, doesn’t put up a fight.

You peel off his suit gently, careful of the-are those claw marks in his chest? Before you can grab the first aid, his fingers are loosely wrapped around your wrist. He pulls you towards him. Pressing you against him, his sweaty bloody body touching your skin. He lets out a tense breath.

“Peter-”

“Just let me hold you. Just for a little bit.”

You can’t say no to him. You let him run his fingers through your hair, rub your back. Gently, you lay your head on his shoulder, trying to be careful of his wounds but selfishly trying to soak up all the emotion and touch you haven’t felt in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes out after a long stretch of silence.

“I..I’m sorry, too.”

“I kept trying to push you.”

“I was trying to protect you from me.”

He takes your face in his hands. His blood feels tacky on your cheeks. He brings your foreheads together, his breath warm against your lips. You remember what it was like to kiss him. How he’d begged for it, begged for something so simple as that.

The thought makes your body pulse in ways you don’t want to think about. Not right now. His thumb rubs against your cheek, leaving your flesh tingling in its wake.

“I don’t need you to protect me. Let alone protect me from something I want.”

“I told you before, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

He chuckles weakly before letting you go. You grab the first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet but still feel his eyes tracing along your back. When you turn, he doesn’t shy away from his staring, a goofy smile still plastered on his face.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Peter, can you focus?”

“So mean to me,” He pouts when you come near him, “I’m injured and you won’t kiss me better?”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Healing factor is making you loopy. Sit up straight, I’m going to disinfect your wounds.”

“Yes ma’am,” In the same scratchy voice that he had when he-

Ugh. You are not thinking about that right now. Even if he’s being too handsy, running his hands over your hips, up your sides. Trying to pull you into his lap.

“I can smell it, ya know? Super senses.”

You want to dose him with the rubbing alcohol bottle just to get him to stop talking. His blood was clotting nicely and you’ve since surmised that most if the blood on him wasn’t him as you feared.

“Smell what?” You dab him gently instead. A tight, clean gauze dressing and the deep marks should go away in a few days. You apply the clean cotton and begin to wrap him up, seconds away from applying skin safe tape.

“When your cunt’s wet, when I turn you on. Like now. Can smell it, always have. That’s how I know you want this too, you’re just scared.”

Your noses touch when you look at him earnestly, “I am scared.”

“I’m scared, too,” His fingers move through your hair, his eyes scan your face, “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t wanna lose your trust.”

It feels good. The silence surrounding you doesn’t feel as oppressive knowing that you’re both in it together. Your eyes close without your permission, lounging once again the comfort of just having Peter touch you again.

“I trust you, Peter.”

You feel his face move further toward you, his lips inches away from yours.

“Say that again,” he whispers breathlessly, “Please, say that again.”

“I trust you.”

-

It was the closest thing to confirmation he was ever going to get, but he’d take it.

His lips press against yours, a soft peck. Another and another until he can feel your body relax. He’s been so starved of you, greed fills him when your lips part. He lifts you up, possessive hands firm on your ass.

God, you were soft. So soft and warm. He wants to devour you, piece by piece.

He puts you on the bathroom counter, your legs hike up over his hips. Your pussy is pressed against the tent in his pants through your thin sleep shorts.

He won’t pull away. His lips leave yours only briefly to catch his breath. Your shaky hands move through his hair and he shutters.

“Missed you so bad,” He whispers, “Missed you so fucking bad.”

His hands move up your shirt, his warm hands traveling up to your bra and then running back down to your thighs.

You whimper, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. His lips trail pecks from your mouth, across your cheek, and down your neck. The soft noises you make control him. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this and he wanted to be the only one to give it to you.

The only person you’ll ever have. The idea of anyone else seeing you melt like this makes him suck the sensitive skin of your neck between his teeth.

“Peter-“ Slightly desperate. Begging almost.

He pets your hair, “Shh, baby. I’m right here. Do you feel me?”

He pulls your hips tighter to him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders. When you hiss between your teeth, he can feel himself leak precum.

“Y…yeah…” You move minutely against him, “Yeah, feel you. Feels good…”

He kisses you again, just to taste the words. He pulls away just to get your shirt off. New skin for him to put his mouth on. He unhooks your bra easily, how starved he was for your flesh. He mouths along your collarbones, leaving bruises with his mouth that would linger on your skin.

He kisses down your chest. Your nipples are hard and pink and distracting.

“Peter, Peter, I-“

His tongue swirls around a nub, the other is tortured by his fingers. He pulls it away from your flesh. You try to move your chest further into his face. Christ, you’re so fucking adorable. You gasp and writhe.

Fuck, you’re getting so wet too. He can feel it against him, dampening the front of your panties and his Spidey suit.

His cock aches. He needed to be inside you, couldn’t take getting pushed away again. He was going insane. He was going to jump out of his skin if he had to wait any longer.

“Get down.”

“Wha?” Your voice is thick and heavy. Your eyes are glazed over. It’s making it so much worse.

“Get down, lean over the counter.”

For the first time in weeks, you do as you're told. Your panties are around your ankles before you realize it. He spreads your ankles apart.

Your pussy is pink and glistening. His mouth waters while he admires it. You whine.

“Nah baby, don’t be embarrassed. Most perfect thing I have ever seen…” He kisses along your shoulders, down your back.

His hand moves between your thighs, “You’ve never had anything inside this sweet pussy, have you?”

Your cheeks are flushed, “No…”

He smiles, reaching around your front and pressing against your clit.

“Oh my god-“

“Breathe, baby,” He presses the tip of one finger against your opening, “Gonna open you up so I don’t hurt you. It’ll feel good, I promise. Just breathe.”

One finger slides in instantly. In and out, hearing the sound of your soaked cunt. He can see your legs lock at first as you feel the awkward pressure. You relax again when you get accustomed to one finger. Another slides alongside and you keen as the press against that spot inside you.

“Too much…” You whimper.

“Pretty girl, I know you can take more,” His fingers speed up slightly as you leak against him, “Fuck, you’re so tight. Been dreaming about you cumming around my cock…”

Your eyes flutter closed, your mouth opens just slightly. Your hips move back against his fingers. You might be trying to say something, but the only thing Peter can hear is-

“Ah, ah, fuck, please…”

Your face in the mirror is gonna make him lose it. He gently tilts your head back.

“Look at yourself,” He whispers in your ear, eyes locking with yours in the reflection, “Look at what I’m doing to you…”

Another finger, his free hand returns home to your clit. You don’t avert your eyes, even though you really want to. Watching your own skin flush, your pupils unfocuses, your jaw slack.

“‘m so close…so close…”

Embarrassing for you, arousing for him.

He pulls his hands away from you. You whine, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “No!”

You feel the tip of him press against your hole. Protests die in your throat. He’s big. So big, you don’t know if he’ll fit. He might tear you apart. You feel so empty though, open and ready. If he doesn’t do something, your heart is gonna explode in your chest.

You trust him.

He’s trying so hard to be patient. You’re a fucking velvet vice around the head of his cock and he wants to feel you all around him. He pushes in farther, letting out a strained moan.

Your breathing picks up, your eyes squeeze shut. He knows before you say. He can feel your walls pulse, your thighs quivering-

“Cumming, Peter, fuck I’m gonna-“

He nearly finishes right there and then. Your cunt tightens impossibly around him, trying to milk him for all his worth. Your body crumples, nearly hitting the floor. He holds you while you shutter through it, kissing along your temple.

He guides you gently to the floor, laying you on your back before boxing you in with his own. He guides your thighs over his hips.

He slides in much easier after your first orgasm. By the time he’s fully seated inside you, you already accept your fate. He takes a minute to look where you're conjoined, your puffy pussy taking all of him.

He pulls out just enough before slamming back in, watching your face. Your groan, your head lulling back. He does it again, and again. Shallow, slow thrusts to get you used to the weight of him. He’s seeing stars behind his eyes, watching your face contort while he overstimulates you on purpose.

“You’ve got more in you,” He pants out, “I know you’ve got more in you.”

Those swallow thrusts change into deeper, faster ones. Hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, his blood is drying on your body. The sight of it is making him insane. Peter leans over and starts sucking bruises into the soft flesh of your neck. His teeth trace your jugular.

“One more,” He breathes in your ear, “Gimme one more…”

Your abs are twitching underneath him, whimpering and whining and clinging to him. You say his name over and over, like it’s the only word that exists in your brain.

His thrusts get more sloppy, feeling your own second impending orgasm build pushes him toward the edge.

“Gonna cum inside you…” Not a question, a statement.

No going back.

You only cry out, seeking out his mouth to drown out the embarrassing noises you’re making. He licks into your mouth just as you tighten and gush around him again.

With one final thrust, he cums deep inside you. He bites down hard on your lower lip.

Now, he’s got your blood on him. No matter how small the amount.

“I love you,” He whispers against your skin, “I love you…”

You nod, struggling to catch your breath. You lean your head against him.

“If you love me, really, you’ll help me clean up.”

He laughs. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve heard in weeks.

“Fine,” He presses a noisey kiss to the crown of your head, “Shower?”

“A shower shower,” You say, “No funny business.”

“I promise nothing.”

“Christ, Peter, at least wait until I can stand…”

It’s a start.

#tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spider man x you #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter smut #tasm imagine #andrew peter parker #peter 3 x y/n #peter 3 x reader

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

— 𝑃𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

➷ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : In the middle of a rainy night, Your boyfriend, Peter needs you and you are more than happy to comply.

➷ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : Little to no dialogue, smut, cursing, oral (female reciving), reader sleeps naked, pet names (sweetheart, baby, darling), 18+, Minors Don't Interact, 1.3k words.

➷ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ : Hello loves. I'm so sorry for not posting any Peter Parker fic for almost two months. I was originally planning to post another Peter Parker fic but I can't fucking seem to finish that one. So I wrote this one instead. I'll post that one later some day. This is my first time writing smut so don't expect too much. If you like the fic then please leave a like, comment and reblong. Follow me for more like this. Enjoy ♡

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Fingers glided down your naked spine, pulling you out of your slumber yet you don't open your eyes. The hand halted at the bottom of your spine before making it's way to you front. The heavy hand lay on your waist. Next a warm pair of lips made it's way to the nape of your neck before buring the head in your disheveled hair.

The sound of rain drops hitting almost drowned his voice. The room was chilling. If not for the warm fuzzy douvet and the warmth of you lover, you would have frozen to death. Specially since you like to sleep naked.

"I know that you are awake, baby. Stop acting now." Your lover whispered.

To this you blinked your eyes open. You could see the thin layer of water running down on the glass window. You turn your body to face, still wrapped in his arm. Your head lay on his arm. You pull your legs over his waist.

"Can't sleep?" You whisper, matching his own tone as you palm his jaw in one hand. You run your thumb on his jaw back and forth in a repetitive manner.

Peter shook head before pulling you closer to his body. Your breath mingling with eachother's. His brown eyes stared down at you with clear adoration in them, amost making you want to shy away. You were great full for the darkness present in the room. Otherwise he would have seen blood crawling up your neck and cheeks.

But unknown to you Peter could see your cheeks becoming red in blush, which made him laugh quietly. Before you ask the reason of his laugh, Peter leaned down capturing you lips in his own. Your back hit the bed as Peter hovered over you.

You lips danced with his. The kiss was soft yet passionate. You two have kissed many times before so you would think that you are used to them. But each time Peter kisses you feel just like the first kiss you two shred. Heartbeat kept getting faster, butterfly flattered in your stomach. You felt euphoric.

Your one hand rested on his shoulder as the other one creeped in his brown locks. Peter then started trailing kisses down your throat, stopping at your collarbones as he dropped open mouth kisses one after another. Sucking and licking one your weak spot. You could not help as moans kept erupting from you.

You throw you head giving him more space to mark as you spouted his name like a spell. Peter left feather kisses down your chest to the valley between your boobs. The buds already hard and aching because of the cold weather.

Peter grabbed one breast in his hand, massaging it now and then and took the other one in his mouth. His tongue rolled around the aching bud, playing with it. His one hand squeezing and tuging your other nipple.

When he had given enough attention to both boobs Peter sat up, kneeling between your legs. His chest heaving up and down with huffs along with your. Peter brought his hand to your wet pussy. His thumb parting your pussy and smethering the slickness all over.

You hips jerked up to feel his fingers in your clit but Peter palmed your stomach and pushed you back down. You stared at him, pleading with your eyes to just put his cock in you but Peter had other plans.

Peter kissed both your knees before trailing hickeys down your thighs. Peter kept kissing and sucking your inner thigh. His face was dangerously close to your cunt, his warm exhale teasing it. You writh and moan under him. Pushing his head in your soaking pussy, trying to get any kind of fraction to help your aching.

"Pe-Peter please." You stuttered out between breathy moans, "I ca-can't take this anymore. I need you."

Peter locked his eyes with you from between you spreaded legs. The view was so erotic that you couldn't help but moan. His lips curled up to smirk, "Where do you need me sweetheart?"

"Here?" He kissed your inner thigh, "Or here?" He whispered while biting on your other thigh, "Or here?" He softly bit your clit. The caress of his cold teeth sending a shiver down your spine.

You back arched at the sensation, "My-My pussy, Pete."

"As you wish Darling." Peter muttered before giving your pussy long lick.

You almost sigh at the sensation. His tongue doing magic. His tongue playing and nibbing on your clit. Peter entered two of his finger in you. Your walls clenching around the digits for relief. He pulled his digits out all the way back before shoving them in you again.

His pace was slow and steady. You back arched and you threw your head back. Your thighs squeezing around head. Peter kept licking, nibbing and sucking your heat. Soon you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach.

You were close. Your heels dug on his bare back as you grabbed his hair and shoved his face deeper in your pussy. Peter snorted at your acts.

"Pe-Peter I'm cu-cuming." You whined.

"I know baby. Cum for me, won't you?" Peter mumbled.

And with his words you came undone with wail. You chest kept falling and raising as you huffed. Peter lapped on your leaking cum like a sterved beast. Gulping every last drop, not letting any of it get waist. With a last stroke of his tongue pater raised his head from your pussy.

White and sticky cum glistening on his lips and jaw. Peter swiftly got rid of the only boxer he was wearing and took out a condom from the nightstand. Peter rolled up the condom on his cock and positioned himself on your entrance with your legs thrown over his shoulders.

Without any wait Peter entered in you with so much force that you almost hit your head on the headboard, if not for his hands which were gripping your waist. You and Peter sigh goarn sync. Peter could not wait anymore.

With one hand on the back of your thing and the other one around your neck, Peter pounced on you. His hips going back and forth. Peter kept thrusting in you with all his force. He loved the view before him.

You laying helpless under him. Hands clutching the bedsheet. Boobs bouncing with each of his thrust. You walls hugging his cock like the the cocksleeve it was. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room as his hips slammed your inner thighs repeatedly. His head leaned back as the the feeling build up in his stomach. He was close as were you.

"Come'on princess. Cum for me. Cum for me princess." Peter kept blabbering nonchalant words.

With no time you both were cumming undone with moans and groans. With a last thrust he pulled out of you. You whimper at the lack of feeling. You walls clenching around nothing and pussy throbbing.

Peter took of the condom and threw it in the dustbin before his heavy fell over you but made sure to not put too much of his weight over. His head resting on your chest. For the next few moments the moment filled up with the sound of your heavy breathing.

There was no sound of storm of rain. The rain had probably stopped while you two were busy with each other.

"You want to take a shower?" Peter muttered, his head still resting on your now calm chest.

"Bath." You answer in one word.

"Okay. Let's go." Peter placed a quick kiss on you nipples before picking you up in bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom, closing the door by a foot behind him.

Please don not copy, reupload or plagiaris my work. All the rights and credits of Marvel characters, gifs, songs and pictures used belongs to their rightful owners.

➷ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ : If you want be added on any my taglist then you can do that here. The ask box is open so if want me to write something then you can request there.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x y/n #andrew spiderman #andrew peter parker #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel smut #Peter Parker x Female Reader #tobey!peter parker #tobey!peter x reader #tobey!spiderman #tom!peter x reader #tom!peter parker #tom!spiderman #𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 #lotus writes #lotus's peter parker

[sincericida]

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!

#ask box #ask request #peter parker fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman smut #andrew garfield #peter parker #spider man #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #andrew peter parker #tasm peter #andrew peter #tasm #tasm spiderman #andrew spiderman #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield spiderman #writers on tumblr #thank you writers #ask anon #ask response #sincericida #fanfic's compilation #request

[rowniebow]

Tasm!pete loosing m!reader after Gwen but reader comes back cause marvel shenanigans 😍 and sees Peter beyond broken and tries to comfort him ?

the last time | tasm!peter parker x male!reader

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: death, wa-oh, is it considered angst? a lil bit o cursin, no way home mentions

word count: 3.3k+

an: no way home had such nice closure for tasm!peter, so happy bout it. thank you so much for requesting! hopefully ill be getting through the other few i have before winter break is over n i gotta go back to work + college. stay safe, happy new year if i don't have anything else till then!

masterlist

⭒

"damn it," you huffed, holding peter's heavy, limp body close. you leaned against the turned over car, taking a moment to find your thoughts.

you squeezed your boyfriend in your arms, hoping he could feel your silent prayers that he would wake up and save the day like he always does.

but as the stomping got closer and his breathing stayed shallow and struggled, you came to the conclusion that he was not going to be able to help you this time.

you, as quietly as you could, grunted while moving peter on to your back. your sore muscles ached. your ripped skin pulled. your bleeding wounds burned.

peter's limp body draped over your back easily. your legs took you to behind another set of turned over cars. to your relief, the villain didn't see you two moving at all. maybe he was too consumed with trying to take down the manhatten bridge that you were desperate to get off of.

you set your sights on your next set of rubble that you'd go for coverage to. your legs seemed to drain of adrenaline with every step you took. your feet felt as if bricks were piling on them, and the dragging began.

within so few feet of the large rubble pile, filled with car parts and pieces of the bridge the large villain was tearing from the bridge, your foot caught on something, sending your heavy bodies toppling over. your elbows and knees seemed to hit every booming metal possible, and echoes of clatter rang out over the bridge.

the monster drew it's attention to your fleeting body and began making it's way towards you.

you unknowingly prayed it didn't see you as you pulled peter into your arms and crouched into the rubble. your breathing was heavy, and you were sure this villain could hear that whether he saw you or not.

your prayers failed to be answered, yet again.

the monster took his ginormous hand and swiped the large rubble pile away as if it were crumbs on a table.

you looked up at him - he was some sort of animal mutation. an ape the size of a whale with claws similar to a cat and skin similar to a lizard. he had as many eyes as a spider (which made your skin crawl) and the teeth of a shark.

you don't know what peter had gotten himself into with this guy, all you knew is how determined this monstrosity was to reveal spider-man's identity.

the creature's odd hand's came down quickly, smacking you two a great distance away. you kept a tight hold on peter, your hands moving to protect his head and neck while you two were in the air.

so very lucky for you, though, that you got to land on your back onto the hard gravel and peter's body came flopping on top of you, his head on your chest.

you gasped for breath, the air in your lungs seeming to have lost it's way. you back burned from the many small glass shards finding their own way into your skin.

your arms went limp from exhaustion, only your hands being able to grip on to peter's arms to keep you in touch with reality.

you felt the large creature's booming steps make their way towards you, and you did your best to try and sit up with peter. but of course, your exhaustion proved to be stronger than you, and his steps quicker.

you only mustered a pleading look, but of course the immoral being paid no mind to you, only snatching peter's limp body up.

a toothy grin (if you could even call it that) pulled at the creatures face. the pleasure it got as it tried to slip it's claw under peter's mask practically made the monster shake.

you took the rare leisurely speed of the creature as an opportunity, grabbing a nearby pipe, and using the last bit of your strength to throw it at the creature.

the pipe landed painfully in one of the many eye's of the creatures. the creature winced as if it were a mere eyelash that got in it's eye. all of the eyes looked directly at you. the glare it gave you nearly made you throw up, but you choked it back.

the creature tossed peter's body, the impact causing him to slowly gain consciousness again.

he slowly blinked his eyes open, the sheer of the mask over his eyes brought him back to the reality of the situation.

his head throbbed, the pain filtered into his eyes. the daylight was too much for him. he felt every part of him to an intense degree. each and every nerve was more than aware of the state of his body.

but through the sheer of his mask and through the pain of his body, he heard your arguments in the distance with the creature that, he only now is coming to remember, is supposed to be dead by now.

you were wrapped in the creature's odd, almost snake-like fingers. you desperately, weakly struggled as he tightened his grip.

you cough and groaned feeling your ribs break one by one under his pressure.

peter couldn't make out exactly what you two were saying to each other. the ringing in his ears too loud to hear anything, really.

but he saw mouths moving, and by the frown on the creatures face, he could only assume your sassy mouth got the best of you.

but the creature wouldn't have any of it. he raised his free hand, pointer finger out.

peter got to his knees, the world seemed to move in slow motion as he realized what was happening.

he yelled out a protest, pushing himself to his feet, the adrenaline suddenly fueling him like a truck.

but his yell meant nothing.

the claw went right through your torso.

the creature smiled, withdrew his hand and merely tossed you aside.

rage filled peter's bones. he was blind. he felt as if he passed out, only coming back to reality when he was standing over the creatures now deceased body.

peter stumbled to you desperately, the adrenaline carrying him farther than he should be able to go.

"peter-," you coughed out, struggling to sit up in an attempt to greet him.

"no, no, no," peter kneeled beside you, a hand under your back and the other hovering over your body, unsure of what to do. "save your breath, baby, we're gonna get you to a hospital, okay?"

peter tried to slip a hand under your legs to pick you up. your quiet groans and breathy 'ow's' stopped him, however, and he set you back down on the ground, not wanting to put you in any further pain.

"honey, please-," peter began to scan down your body. he wanted to find the wound, stop it from hurting you. he'd do anything.

"no, peter," you grabbed his face and redirected his sights back to you. "don't look at that, look at me." you smiled. your tired eyes were glazed over.

your fingers that hardly seemed to work made their way under his mask and pulled it over peter's head. the mask came off and revealed peter biting his lip, eyes full of tears.

"it's okay, sweetie,"

"no! it's not okay! don't- you can't leave me-,"

"i'm not leaving you, sweetheart,"

"you are, you are. i can't-i can't be without you,"

your hands kept on his cheeks and the smile on your face never left. you didn't want him to see you in pain. you didn't want him to remember you upset - because you aren't.

peter's tears soaked your fingers.

"i would never leave you, sweetheart, i'm-i'm not leaving."

peter broke away from your hands to look down and search for the culprit.

"hey," you quiet, breathy voice and weak fingers drew him back to your eyes. "stop, stop. just- me, look at me,"

"i-i love you,"

"i love you, too, peter," your droopy lids threatened to close but you refused. "you're doing great things, okay? you're-you're going to keep doing great things, okay?"

"okay," he stuttered through cries.

"p-promise me,"

"i promise,"

"you have to promise me, peter,"

"i do, i do, i promise,"

you nodded, leaning back on to the rubble, peter's hand still resting on your back. your eyes slowly searched for peter's hand, reaching and intertwining your weak fingers with him.

tears fell faster as he grabbed your hand firmly, not too tight in case you'd break.

"i'm not leaving you, okay, peter?"

"okay,"

"i'm-i'm not,"

"okay," his words of assurance were a stark contrast to his stuttering, sobbing, sadness.

"i l-love you,"

"i love you too, i love you so much,"

"keep doing good,"

"i promise, i will,"

the smile never faded, but peter watched as your glow did.

he watched as the light in your eyes left with your final blink. as the strength in your hand weakened. as the stiffness in your back collapsed onto his hand.

he pulled your limp body into a one-sided hug. your arms failed to wrap around his neck like they always used to. the crinkles in your eyes were soft and smooth. he seemed to be hyper aware of your breathless nose in the crook of his neck.

and he cried. he sobbed and screamed and pleaded for you to come back. that he didn't want to be without you, not again. he was miserable before you came in to his life and picked him off of the ground and rose him higher.

and peter was left alone on the manhatten bridge.

left alone with his anger and sadness once again.

⭒⭒

"okay, i have coffee, hot chocolate for ned's lola, and a little bit of whiskey for the man who's best friend just died," you muttered closing the door to ned's house carefully, hands full of the grocery bags full of candy and alcohol and stated drinks.

turning around, your sad eyes found the ones of the men standing around with the two children you were responsible for the safety of while peter and your, now deceased, best friend handled the criminals from the other dimension.

"oh, i would have got more coffee if i knew we were having guests," your shocked eyes scanned the unfamiliar men. "and, more alcohol," you looked the man in the spider-man costume up and down.

you smiled in spite of the awkward silence of all five people staring at you.

"oh, here, ned's lola," you grinned brightly handing the hot chocolate to the older woman.

"i'm going to bed!" she walked away, hot chocolate in hand.

"what's wrong with her?" you quirked an eyebrow over to ned.

the man in the spider-man costume muttered your name, and you finally met his teary eyes.

"hi, have we met?" you smiled softly, setting the full drink holder down on the table.

"they're peter parker's from other dimensions and i'm a wizard now! i can make portals with my bare hands!" ned burst out, his hands flying everywhere, while mj grabbed at a coffee, downing it without thought.

"i need a second," the 'peter' in the spider-man suit went for the door you had just come out of.

"oh, no, no, no, no! you are going to sit here with us-," mj began, shakily pointing between him and a chair.

"i just need a second!" he repeated louder, cutting mj off.

everyone stood watching as he left, slamming the door a bit, only to open it, let out a small apology to ned's lola, and close it again, gently.

"can you- i cannot- what the hell," mj muttered panicked under her breath.

your eyes lingered on the closed door. you grabbed your coffee as mj continued with her sputtering.

"hi," the nicely dressed man smile. "i'm peter, and he is peter, too."

"okay! sure," you smiled back, confusion written over your features with all that's happened. "peter's are here, too, now?" you looked to ned and mj.

ned, still in awe, nodded hurriedly. mj threw her hands up, lips forming into a thin line.

"okay, is he-," you gestured to the door. "is he okay?"

mj shrugged, obviously tired and confused, and most of all, worried. worried for peter, who you three had no idea of the location of.

"okay, don't worry about it, hon," you smiled and made your way towards the door. "nice to, uhm, meet you, mr.-," you stuttered over your words.

you still don't really understand all the multiverse stuff all too much, despite peter's explanation. you understood very well that you weren't the smartest when it came to the three brilliant science loving children, but when peter was explaining the whole situation to you, you'd never felt more similar to a wall.

"mr. parker?"

"yes," he nodded, and began speaking more directly to ned and mj about where your peter was and how he'd been looking for him.

you took the opportunity to sneak out of the door.

⭒⭒⭒

'peter' sat on the step to the house. his mind was full of you.

why were you here?

i mean, obviously it's not you, it's just you.

but you're so similar - why are you so similar?

why did you smile at him like that? like he was safe? you don't know him, peter shouldn't be safe to you. but, when he thought about it, you never treated anyone as if they weren't safe. that was something he loved about you.

you would have liked the shirt you are wearing, he would have bought you it as a gift if he saw it in a passing window.

his thoughts ran with all these insignificant thoughts about the two you's.

he wondered if your favorite color was the same, or if you had pets in this universe. or why you looked so damn similar.

he missed you, peter wasn't going to argue against that to anyone. it'd only been a couple of years. it's too soon to see you. fuck, it'd probably always be too soon.

"hey," he heard your voice. the tears that threatened his eyes finally blinked their way out of him. too soon, too soon, too soon, too soon. "are you okay?"

he found it insane how, even still with a different you, your voice is able to cut through any negative thoughts he was having. how you could quiet his mind and fill it with the most pleasant music.

of course you'd come out and check up on him. of course you're just as kind as you were. you are you, after all. no universe could lack your infinite warmth.

"i'm-i'm good, yeah,"

peter's voice cracked. he wanted to laugh at his bad acting.

you were silent for a bit.

peter stifled his sniffs and wiped at his cold, runny nose.

"you don't seem very 'good'." you repeated, hesitantly sitting next to him, a comfortable distance between you two. you silently handed him your coffee, which he slowly took hold of, keeping it close and muttering a thanks.

"i-i, um," peter went over his options and words.

he wanted to share with you. it's you: the person he told and shared every single thought with just two years ago, why wouldn't he want to share his thoughts with you? even if it's about how you died.

"there was a you in my universe,"

he noticed your eyebrows raise in interest. he noticed the sparkle in your eyes. "really?"

you always thought science was cool. you loved the idea of multiple universes, always coming up with different theories of how you'd be in different ones.

god, how he wished he could report back to you about this you.

he finally looked over to meet your eyes. you observed the redness and how glassy his eyes were.

"yeah, yeah, he-," peter choked on his words, not necessarily ready to share his darkest moments. even if it is with you. "tell me about yourself?"

"what?"

"what is your life like?"

you were taken aback by his statement. the only thing running through his mind was how you reacted the same when he asked you about your life in an effort to get to know you at the very beginning.

"oh-, i don't know how to summarize a life,"

peter felt his lips tug up a bit at your words. you're so awkward and nervous, just like you were at the start.

"i have a nice life. i mean it's been a lot recently with peter's whole identity thing. i have- erm," you coughed, choking on your words, remembering the news announcing her to have died. you let your eyes fall to the ground. "i had a really great best friend and we, you know. i helped her raise peter after ben,"

"who? aunt may?"

your pained eyes looked up and found his. "you know may?"

"i-i was raised by my aunt may, too."

"did i-?"

"no, no, you-" peter felt a sob kick in his throat. "you and i, we-uhm. you were my mj."

you felt your glassy eyes widen. your eyebrows finding your hairline.

you did find him cute. you two were certainly much more similar in age compared to your peter being on verge of eighteen

"i was?"

"you were,"

"what-what happened?"

"i-," peter swallowed his words but they kept resurfacing. "i got involved with someone who was trying to expose my identity, too. but you-you saved me. but i-i couldn't save you."

"oh," you watched his eyes train on the ground. they scrunched together in an effort to build a wall against himself. his fists balled up, his fingers bruising his palms.

you scooted closer. you wanted to keep your distance for his comfort. but, if you two were that close in his universe, you're sure he wouldn't mind how close you sat.

your arm fell onto his back, rubbing it in smooth circles. you took attention to how different his suit compared to the one you were most familiar with.

"you don't blame yourself, do you?" you almost heard a small laugh in his throat, and you suddenly became embarrassed by your question, "sorry, that was dumb. you're you, of course you do,"

he laughed louder, more hearty. more full.

you always had a way of making him laugh despite the circumstances.

"don't-don't blame yourself," you tripped over your words. "if-if i'm anything like me," you squinted your eyes at how odd the sentence was, "then i'm sure i was fully aware of the situation."

peter looked over to you. what a surreal experience it was, to be getting consoled about your death by you.

"i thought it was worth it. my life for yours. i feel the same about the peter from this universe. i'm sure i wanted you to be happy and continue doing good things,"

peter flinched at words that felt too similar to the sentiment you left him with.

"i wouldn't want you to stay grieving over me like this, peter. i don't want you to grieve over me like this. i want you to be happy and enjoying the life i left for"

peter's lack of sounds or movements stirred the pot of anxiety in your stomach. your fingers twitched and your eyebrows felt knitted together.

you didn't think twice about your instinct to very gently wrap your arms around him.

an arm crossed over his chest and tugged on his shoulder to pull him into you. your other hand made it's way into his hair, and you ran your fingers through the messy brownness.

he leaned into your touch, he'd never fight an opportunity to feel your touch again, even just once more. his head found its way onto your shoulder.

"i'm-i'm sorry, i'm not good with words," you whispered.

he laughed, tears falling despite his happiness to be in your arms. at least he can take it in and a enjoy it this time, truly absorb you knowing this would be the last time.

"it's okay, i know,"

you two sat like that for a long time. no words, just your hands nervously in his hair and his head relaxing on your shoulder, face in your neck.

you worried you smelled bad, and how badly you were with your words, whether you upset him more, if he could hear your heartbeat.

peter disregarded everything, though.

he took in your sweet smell, you smelled the same as you. he went over your words in his head, appreciating your thoughtfulness. he'd learned to decode what you and others felt were messy sentences. your "messy sentences" became the only ones he truly felt he could understand.

and he very much could hear how fast your nervous heartbeat was.

#male reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male!reader #spiderman #x male reader #spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #andrew peter parker #tasm! peter parker x male!reader #spider-man #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spider man #question mark? #peter parker imagine #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x male!reader #tasm!peter x you #andrew!peter x reader #andrew spiderman #male!reader #male y/n #request #spiderman no way home

[literaila]

the waiter

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"the waiter was flirting with you"  

"what?"

"he couldn't stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

warnings: pure fluff, baby. 

"hey," peter whispers to you, a bit urgently. 

you don't look up from your menu, thinking fanciful thoughts of bankrupting peter. "hmm?" 

"we have to go." 

you look up, frowning. 

peter's got an urgent look on his face. his frown matches yours. 

if he didn't look so disturbed you might take the moment to appreciate the shirt he's wearing, sleeves rolled up past his forearm. you might even stare a little bit. 

but peter is frowning. and there is something wrong. 

"what?" you ask him, looking around. "what's going on?" 

"we have to leave." 

peter does not elaborate any further, because why would he? 

"okay..." you drawl, blinking at him. "why?" 

you look out the window to your left for any incoming disasters. if there was a possibility that anyone in this restaurant were to get hurt, you're sure peter wouldn't be just sitting there, waiting to have a conversation about death. 

but there's no monster outside. no robberies. no impending doom that he might need to tend to. 

your brow furrows even deeper. you stare at him, expectant. 

"the waiter was flirting with you," peter mutters, casting a glance toward the man on the other side of the restaurant. 

the man who you thought was perfectly pleasant, thank you very much. 

"what?" 

"he couldn't stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

you snort, a bit confused. "peter," you say, a strange sort of smile on your face. "what?" 

"if i have to watch him drool all over you again, i might spontaneously combust."  

you close your menu, staring at him. 

"i'm serious, babe, we have to go." 

"we already ordered bread. and drinks." 

"i'll pay triple however much that cost. the waiter gets no tip," peter furrows his brows, considering. "okay, fine. he gets fifteen percent." 

"how chivalrous." 

"baby," peter whines, like a child. you might find it a little bit cute. "please? i'm having a hard enough time already." 

"what?" you frown. "why?" 

he blinks at you. does a slow up and down your body, raising his eyebrows. 

you think back to hands that had lingered on every inch of skin they could find on the way there. about eyes that could've burned you to the core. 

"oh," you cross your arms, self-conscious. "i thought you were kidding earlier when you said that--" 

peter stares at you blankly. 

"okay. not kidding."

his head drops down to the table, and if not for his muffled voice you might hear him groan. 

"leaf pile," you coo, softly. "i think it'll be alright. i'll even hold your hand when he comes back over." 

peter does not budge at the nickname, but you snicker internally, reaching a hand out to mess up his hair. 

he sits up, fixing it with a frown--as if it's at all salvageable. 

"is this what we've come to?" peter asks you, shaking his head. "you have to bribe me with affection? you only want to hold my hand to turn away the poor waiter--" 

"it's always been like this." 

peter points a finger at you. "not true." 

you scoff. "on our first date you tried to get me to stay up all night so we could watch the sunset--" 

"--that would've been romantic." 

"--and i had to bribe you with a goodnight kiss. just so you would let me go home." 

peter smiles like he's still pleased with himself. "you didn't want to leave. i was trying to help." 

"you just wanted to make out on the subway." 

"that's disgusting," peter says, looking away from you finally. his menu is still open, on the table, waiting to be looked at. "we could go to the diner across from your apartment."

"we went there last week." 

"great service," peter says, nonchalantly. 

"this is supposed to be a fancy date, peter." 

"what's fancier than sharing a milkshake?" 

"crème brûlée." 

peter purses his lips, a hand going to scratch at his lips. there are about ten seconds of silence. 

you use it to stare at him and wonder how he could possibly feel intimidated by anyone else. 

"fine," peter says, "we'll order dessert to go. and then we'll go get pizza." 

you open your mouth. close it. 

"you like pizza," peter reassures you. 

"i also like having a nice dinner with my boyfriend." 

"that can be arranged." 

you sigh. "even if we order dessert to go, we'll still have to talk to david again." 

peter gawks at you. "you know his name?" 

"he literally introduced himself. it was the first thing he said." 

"you remembered his name?" 

you wave a hand. "peter. you don't need to be jealous. maybe he just saw something on my face." 

peter sits back and crosses his arms. he raises an eyebrow at you, to which you smile back innocently. 

he says i know what you're doing without the words. 

"there's nothing on your face," peter says, dryly. "besides pure perfection." 

you giggle. 

peter runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "you're right," he relents, sighing. 

"it's okay, baby, like i said--" 

"it doesn't matter where we go," peter interrupts. "everyone's going to stare at you anyway." 

"...not where i was going with that." 

"i guess i just need to accept reality." 

"i don't think--" 

"i mean," peter finally looks you right in the eye, a hint of a smile playing on his face. "how lucky am i?" 

your face goes blank, for just a moment. 

and then, completely despite yourself, you smile at him, skin tingling at the intensity of his stare. 

of his teasing and gentle laughter as he smiles back. 

and, really, it's not your fault that you have to lean across the table to kiss him. 

he's just so goddamn irresistible. 

after a couple of seconds--and an ahem from the table beside you--you sit back down, opening your menu once again. you smile while you try and decide what to eat. 

and try to come up with the perfect way to get peter back for all of that. you've gotten as far as thanking the waiter profusely when he comes back. 

it's only a minute later when he whispers to you: 

"can i at least order the most complicated thing on the menu just to mess with him?" 

*

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