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backtothefanfiction · 5 months

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One Last Date For Christmas | PART ONE: An Arrangement At The Christmas Party

Summary: Another year, The same Christmas party and holiday hook up... or is it?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Smut (oral M & F receiving, p in v, mild dirty talk with Christmas references), Mentions of Cancer/Death, Fake Dating, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, this is basically Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movie vibes

Word Count: 5.9K+

A/N: Okay, so I've been feeling crumby lately and really need a boost, so although we took a poll and it was decided this whole story would go up as one piece at the same time, I need the motivation and have had a crumby week mentally and need a boost. So here is part 1. If you do enjoy PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I am like Tinkerbell, if I don't get attention I will die haha. But seriously my mental health needs the kind words for energy so please take a moment to share some if you like this part and not just like it. Anyway... ENJOY!!!

Another year, another fancy corporate business party Peter was obliged to attend due to his job. It had become such a regular routine over these last 7 years J. Jonah Jameson didn’t even bother asking if he was available to come anymore, just automatically emailed over the details so he could attend.

Peter couldn’t completely complain. He got free drinks and fancy food for the night. I mean in reality he got to act just like any other guest, despite the camera he had around his neck for the night. And instead of paying to be there, he was instead getting paid to be there. Sure it was only an extra couple hundred bucks, but at this time of year it really did make all the difference.

Being a freelance photographer only made him so much a year, especially when the rest of his time was spent moonlighting as the local superhero which didn’t pay a thing. Not that he couldn’t have made some money as a public figure. A couple grand here to endorse a few products. A donation of thanks or two from business owners or generous members of the community there. All of which had been options that he had turned down. That wasn’t who Spider-Man was and definitely not who he wanted Spider-Man to be. And so at almost 40 years old, this was Peter’s life.

No wife. No kids. Not even a pet, because he couldn’t commit to spending enough time at home in his tiny run down box of a studio apartment, to look after it. He sometimes brought girls home, he did have needs after all, but no matter how interested they had been in him, he’d never let himself get attached. After Gwen he would never get attached again.

The only one to ever even come close was you. He had met you 5 years ago now at this very event. Just like him, you always felt like a fish out of water at these parties, despite always being on the guest list. Your Father was one of the big business benefactors of the party and ever since the divorce you had become his regular plus one.

Just like Peter you were a chronic singleton, always too busy traveling for work to be able to sustain an actual relationship, despite your Mother trying her best every time you were home to set you up with some poor soul. She just didn’t get it. You didn’t believe in marriage anymore as most of them ended in divorce, your parents marriage and even two of your Uncle’s marriages prime examples alone; and as for children? You had decided at the age of 13 you wouldn’t have kids and no matter how many times your Mother, Grandmother or Aunt Sarah told you, you would change your mind, you hadn’t. If anything the birth of your brother’s kids had only cemented things more.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your niece and nephew, you were just always glad you could pass them back off to your brother and his wife after a few hours of their shrieking play and demands for cookies and ice cream, while fighting over what to watch on the telly. No, you had never wanted kids and you never would. You had however always wanted to get a cat, but until you changed jobs or just simply didn’t have to travel for work anymore, that would just remain a lovely little dream for the future.

Peter always arrived to the party early. After all, he was getting paid by the hour, so the longer he was there taking photos, the more money he could claim from the Daily Bugle finance department on Monday. He aimlessly wandered around taking photos of the venue and the table settings and the odd entering guest as people arrived. He helped himself to horderves off of shiny platters and the odd glass of champagne as he worked, seamlessly floating through the crowd, formally stopping people every now and again for more posed group shots, other times just taking candid photos of people mingling. He took the occasional booming order from J. Jonah Jameson, “Hey Parker! Make sure you get a shot of me with the Mayor. Parker! Come here and take a photo of me and Mrs Perez! Parker! Take a picture of me and my wife!”

“Yes, sir.” Peter would respond with a smile. Usually you were here by now to laugh at the way he followed the head of the Daily Bugle around like his lap dog, but as of yet you still hadn’t arrived. Then a horrible thought crossed Peter’s mind, ‘what if you weren’t coming this year.’ He had seen your Father walking about, had even taken a couple of photos of him with various business partners and city officials, but as of yet there had been no sign of you.

Peter checked his watch again hoping you were just running late, but the closer it got to 8.30pm and the start of the meal portion of the night, he started to give up hope. He knew you were busy, always flying between Tokyo, Milan, London and Paris for work; but you were always usually back home for the holidays. He was just about to check his watch again when you came through the door like a whirlwind in red.

He watched you like a Spider sizing up his prey as you made a beeline for your Father. You gave him a rushed greeting and an apologetic kiss to the cheek, before you followed him and the rest of his group to their table, placed closer to the small makeshift stage that had been erected at one end of the long window lined room. He kept his focus on you as you took your seat, your father pushing your chair in for you as you turned to greet one of the other women at the table a couple seats away from you. That was, until J. Jonah Jameson’s booming voice called him away again.

“Parker! You’re over here with us!” He barked as he ushered Peter over to a table on the other side of the room. He was just able to lock eyes with you and give you a friendly smile before he took his seat. “I’ve sat you on this side so you can get the wife’s good side.” Jameson continued to say.

There was a couple of speeches and awards before the food was served. Peter was pleased to find that he was in fact in a good vantage point in which he could take pictures of the stage this year without having to move. He also had a clear sightline to you too, his lens unconsciously moving in your direction every few shots then back again.

Peter had chosen the steak and hasselback potatoes for his dinner with a rich chocolate pudding for dessert. When he finished his meal, he dismissed himself from the table, as he traditionally did, to go around the tables and take a few more candid shots of people before taking a break at the bar.

“I’ll take an old fashioned, please.” Your familiar voice suddenly came from beside him. “I’m sorry I was late.” you said as you leaned into him as if conspiratorially. “My flight got delayed.”

“Where were you coming from this time?” Peter asked as he took a sip from his own drink.

“Boston.” You said with a sigh. It definitely hadn’t been the answer he was expecting and his quizzical look at you said as much. “I was visiting my Mother. Her and her new partner Brad moved there a few months back to be closer to his grandchildren.” You explained.

“I’m guessing that means you got away with not being set up on a blind date this visit.” Peter fished, knowing your Mother’s habits and routines well after these last 5 years of annual hookups.

“You’d think so.” You said as you took a sip of your stiff drink, just to emphasize the drama of it all. “Turns out Maggie’s teacher is single and available.” you say with mock enthusiasm.

“Maggie?” Peter questions.

“One of Brad’s grandchildren.” you fill in with another sigh and eyebrow raise. “I wish she’d just give it a rest, you know?” You pause as you take another sip of your drink before you tell him, “I’m thinking of coming up with a fake boyfriend just to get her off my back. But then I know she’ll be all like ‘when do I get to meet him?’” you say doing an exaggerated impersonation of your Mother’s voice.

“Yeah, I think about doing the same thing with Aunt May sometimes, but I’d hate lying to her.” Peter confided.

“How is your Aunt?” you ask. The one blessing of only seeing each other once a year meant there were always things for you both to talk about and catch up on.

You watch as his face falls, his eyes turning sad as he looks into his drink. “Umm, they’re not good actually. We found out this year she has stage 4 breast cancer. The doctor said this is probably gonna be her last Christmas.” He struggles to look at you.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” you say, mustering up as much empathy as you can as your hand instinctively comes to rub at his back. “Is there nothing they can do?”

“They said they could try a few different treatments but it wasn’t guaranteed to work and May ultimately decided that… Well she said that she’s lived to a good age and if this is how she is meant to go, this is how she is meant to go.” He paused, blinking hard as he continued to stare at the liquid in his glass. “She said I was a grown man and didn’t need her anymore.” He let out a small unsatisfied chuckle that wreaked of denial, before he finally looked at you again. “I just… I just feel guilty, you know?”

“What for?” You asked him.

“It’s just. I know she was always holding onto this hope that I’d meet someone. That I’d end up finding someone and settling down. Live a life like her and Ben did.”

“But that’s not what you want from your life?” you question him now unsure, as you finally sit yourself on the bar stool next to him. “I mean, if you wanted that, isn’t that what you would have done? Gone out, met a girl. Settled down. You can’t be someone you’re not just to please others.”

“But it was what I wanted.” he suddenly confides. “And that’s why I feel guilty because she knows that. When I first introduced her to Gwen, I said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry Aunt May.’” he says with gusto, like he’s saying it exactly how he had said it to her, before his body deflates again.

“But things change. People change. We’re allowed to change Peter.”

“I know, but… she just, I know she never gave up hope.”

“You know what they say about hope?” You say.

“It breeds eternal misery,” he bristles.

“No.” You chastise. “It’s like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

Peter’s brow furrows as his head turns back to you. “Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

“Princess Leia.” you smile.

“God I love you.” he says casually with a smile.

“I know.” you continue to beam back before you raise your glass towards him. “For Aunt May?”

“For Aunt May.” he agrees before clinking your glass with his own.

You both creep away a little before midnight, catching a cab back to your apartment. You always went back to your apartment. Peter said it was because he wanted you to be comfortable and said it was more homelier than his place, but the truth was, Peter was ashamed to take you back to his own apartment. It looked like a dingy run down squat or some really dodgy student housing in comparison to your place.

He didn’t want to kid himself, he knew he was definitely punching above his weight a little when it came to you, not because he necessarily thought he was ugly, but more simply because you had more money than him. You’d never made him feel inferior for it. In fact you’d always wanted to help him by offering to put him in contact with some galleries so he could get more of his work out there. Maybe make some extra cash by selling some of his photos as art for the rich and wealthy, not just to a local paper, but Peter had never had the guts to take you up on the offer. It would make him feel indebted to you and throw the balance of your relationship off even more than it somewhat already was.

“Did you choose red because it’s my favourite color or just for the festivities?” He nibbled on your ear as his fingers ran across the velvet skirt of the dress, dragging it up to your thigh as he pressed himself against your back.

You hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights than the Christmas tree, before you stopped to take a moment to look out your window at the city. Christmas in New York was your favorite time of year. Every year to mark the occasion, you would go down to Rockefeller Plaza, grab a hot chocolate and watch as they turned on the lights. As kids you would go ice skating there. Less so now you were adults, your brother and his own kids had their own tradition of skating in Central Park on Christmas Eve, but some years you would still partake.

“I chose it for the season.” You sighed, your body relaxing back into him, head resting on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck.

“My festive little elf.” He teased as his fingers continued to work up the hem of your dress until they could reach your panties, which you had in fact bought new and chosen with Peter in mind.

“I even brought presents.” You plaid along teasingly.

Your breathing hitched slightly as the pads of his fingers dragged over your lace covered clit.

“Really? For me?” You could feel him smiling into the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Mhmm.” You hum. “Maybe, you should unwrap me.” You tease back.

“Mmm.” He hums back deeply in delight as he turns you around to face him. The hand that was just ghosting at your centre, now wraps firmly around the back of your neck, as he smashes your rouge stained lips into his.

His other hand begins pawing at the velvety fabric of your dress again before he’s pulling his face away from you, his grin growing too big and you can’t help but give a satisfying smile back as you notice how your lipstick has transferred from your lips to his, marking him as yours for the evening. Your hand reaches for his and you begin taking steps backwards, pulling him in the direction of your bedroom and awaiting bed.

Your room is a slight mess from your hasty packing before you left for Boston and your equally hasty unpacking upon your return. You’d just had enough time to get home and get changed, rushing your make up and hair, before you left to go to the party. Your suitcase lay open on the floor, some of the contents lay spilling out from where you had hunted around for your makeup bag. The little pink bag from Victoria Secret sat upside down on the floor beside it. Peter spies it the moment he enters the room.

He feigns shock, “Did you buy this for me?” He teases as he picks up the bag.

“Don’t get too excited Parker, they were having a sale.”

“I don’t care.” He says with a boyish grin, despite his 39 years of age. “Come here and let me see.”

You smile at him as you begin to step closer to him before calling out into the room, “Alexa, turn on mood lighting.”

His eyebrows raise as a lamp in the corner of the room turns on, illuminating your bedroom in a magenta hue. “Mood lighting huh?”

“Do you wanna be able to see your Christmas gift or not?” You sass back with a hand on your hip.

“I mean, I’ve always thought of you as my Christmas present, regardless of what you wear.” He says as his fingers begin to grab for you again and pull you into him.

“Next year I won’t bother then.”

“Oh no, you’ve made it a thing now. I’m gonna expect this, every- single- year- from now on.” He says between kisses across your cheek and down your neck and upper chest. You begin to giggle and shriek in delight as his lips gently nibble at your skin. “Mmm. Come on then. Let’s see what you got for me.” He says ripping himself away from you so you have the space to reach behind you for the zipper to your dress.

The dress begins to relax its hold on your body, slowly exposing the black strapless lace bra to Peter before you slide the dress down the rest of your body to show off the matching lacey bikini briefs. You carefully step out of the puddle that now is the red velvet dress on your floor, your ankles only wobbling slightly as you still stand in your heels for him to take in the full sight.

He pauses for a moment silently taking you in before he gives a small nod. “Yes. Yes, this will do. Excuse me a moment while I go and write my thank you letter to San-“

“Peter.” You whine.

“Oh come on, don’t be bratty with me now.” He says jokingly as he steps closer and wraps you in his arms again.

“I thought you liked it when I was bratty.” You joke back as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Nope. You become completely intolerable and insufferable and…” You roll your eyes as he continues to list words, but nonetheless, begin to snake your arms from around his neck, trailing them down his chest as you begin to get down on your knees before him.

You begin to work open the button of his jeans, freeing his semi hard cock from its confines. He only stops his fake monologue about you acting like a brat when you take his length into your mouth and his hand involuntarily reaches out for the side of your head as he sighs.

The only sounds that fill the room now are his small gasps and moans and your saliva slick lips around his cock. One of your hands braces itself on his thigh, whilst the other works the rest of his shaft your mouth won’t reach.

You pull off him with a sloppy pop of your lips and Peter groans before you begin to circle the tip of his cock with your tongue and he jumps away from you with sensitivity, suddenly worried he’d blow his load too soon if you continue like that. It makes you giggle.

His fingers reach around the flesh of your bicep and he pulls you up off the floor before pulling you into him, his head nuzzling into your neck, lips and teeth nibbling and teasing at your skin and driving you crazy. He’d worked out that you liked that on the second Christmas you had slept together. He loved the way it made you sigh but also giggle and shriek when the sensation grew too much.

“Ahhh Peter.” you cried out with a high pitched moan.

He reluctantly broke himself away from you and the intoxicating smell of your favorite perfume so you could latch your mouth onto his, a satisfied smile struggling to be contained on your lips. He can’t help but smile back.

“Peter!” you shriek and giggle as he reaches around to pick you up and drop you back onto the covers of your bed.

Your hands get lost in his hair as he begins kissing his way down your chest. Your stomach involuntarily twitches as his lips move across it and the way his hands reach for your hips to forcefully hold you in place sends you reeling, a wave of arousal soaking your panties. His lips skip over your underwear, instead kissing at the inside of your thigh as his hands begin to relax on your hips, his fingers curling under the waistband of your underwear, ready to pull them down.

As he removes you of your underwear, he also takes the opportunity to rid himself of the flattering black long sleeved top he’d been wearing all evening. The removal of his shirt reveals a silver necklace that had been hiding beneath the shirt and the way the chain hangs off his neck has you biting your lip. It is so rare to see a man wear jewelry so you never realized the effect the sight had on you before, but there's something about the connotations and hidden meaning to it, his choice and confidence to wear it, makes you want to rub your thighs together in want.

His fingers are suddenly teasing at your entrance though and its almost enough to take the edge off, or it would be if his finger hadn’t stopped at the first knuckle of his middle finger. You realize he’s only done it so he can spread the arousal that was already leaking out of your cunt around between your folds and across your clit so he can then go in and lick it all off. Your head falls back into the pillows of your bed as you sigh out his name in relief.

You can feel the focus he has radiating off of him without even looking as he begins to expertly lick up from your entrance, swirl his tongue around your clit and then back down again as he draws moans, ever increasing in volume, from your lips. You found out very early on in your yearly dalliances that he was an expert with that tongue, making you cum not once, not twice, but three times just from his tongue alone, when you told him no one had ever actually gotten you off that way before.

You could feel your first climax of the night building low within you, your muscles growing tight, clit growing extra sensitive as your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, encouraging him and guiding him and not allowing him to pull away until you finished. The pressure of his tongue grew firmer and you ground your clit down against it until that tight thread within you snapped, your hips stuttering as pleasure rippled through you. He held tightly onto you, lapping up everything you gave him and helping you ride it out until you were actively pushing him away from you. He gave your bare thighs a small satisfactory slap as he gave you his smug tight lipped smile that seemed to say ‘another happy customer’ and you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle before turning your head and trying to hide the ear to ear smile that was on your face.

You were able to compose yourself as he shifted from the bed to shuck himself fully off the rest of his clothes, his jeans joining your red dress in a puddle on the floor, before he carefully lifted the necklace off over his head and placed it on your bedside table. You shifted yourself over on the bed as he came down to rest beside you, his hand reaching out to pull your face to him as he gave you a kiss before he encouraged you to climb up on top of him. Your lips didn’t part from his as you straddled his waist, your cunt involuntarily rubbing itself along his hard length as your tongues intermingled with one another.

His fingers reached round to grab a hold of your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh as he encouraged you to grind down harder. You moaned and gasped against his lips at the drag of your clit across his skin. Your open mouth before him allowed him to reach out for your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth making you moan louder, before he began to trail kisses down your chin and neck. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling and the sounds of your own voice. It sent a new flood of arousal between your legs and you could feel Peter grinning against your skin as you worked your slick over his length.

You paused only long enough to reach over to your chest of drawers, pulling a box of condoms out of the second drawer. The position allowed Peter to attach his mouth over your breasts, his teeth biting at them over the lace bra. You reached behind you to unclasp it and take it off as you sat upright, Peter’s hands resting patiently on the tops of your thighs as he waited for you to then open the condom. You held out the torn open packet for him to take the condom and start rolling it down onto his length as you reached back over the side of the bed to drop the wrapper in the bin.

You shifted your legs back slightly as you recentred yourself, one hand balancing on the bed, the other on his bare chest as he lined himself up with your entrance. He glided the tip of his cock against your folds, covering the tip of his cock with your slick before he began to encourage you back onto it. The slow fill of his cock inside you had you letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, your eyes falling closed, head tilting back as you savored the feeling.

It had been a slow year. Despite a brief hook up with a guy over the summer after a night out with friends and a quick tinder hookup in your hotel in Rome (where the guy spoke barely a lick of English), your only companion had been your old reliable rabbit toy. You’d be lying if you hadn’t been counting down the days to tonight the whole time you had been visiting your Mother. When your flight had been delayed, it was the thought of missing out on your one good and guaranteed fuck of the year that had stressed you out. Now it all seemed worth it.

Peter started slowly, his hips pushing up into you at an agonizing pace as he guided you down and your hips back with every thrust, the contours of his cock dragging agonizingly slowly across every sensitive spot inside you, working you up gradually to another earth shattering climax. Your body bowed over him as you let out small gasps of praise into his forehead, your fingers gripping tightly into the sheets either side of his head. You felt one of his hands run soothingly up your back and it sent shivers down your spine that only added to the sensation building in between your legs.

“Peter.” you sighed against him, as you pressed your forehead into his, your eyes closed in concentration as you chased that feeling inside you.

“What is it? What do you need?” his voice gently calls to you as he moves the hand that was caressing your back round behind your neck, pulling your lips down to his for a kiss.

“More. I need more.” you say equally as gently back into his lips.

You feel his head give a small nod in acknowledgment before he seals the deal with a kiss, as his thrusts begin to grow quicker and firmer in pace. It makes him hit something deep inside you that has you crying out. Your eyes fly open, desperate to lock onto his. He looks up at you with such beauty and gratitude. It makes you want to kiss him again and you do, your tongue licking deeply and slowly into his mouth in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your thighs shudder slightly as the sensation between your legs changes and you know your cumming again but the feeling of his cock moving between your legs doesn’t stop. It works you through the high and he still doesn’t stop. Instead his thrusts grow fast as he searches for his own release. You brace yourself, holding yourself over him as he just takes what he wants. If he holds out long enough you think you can get out one more orgasm of your own.

You balance yourself on one arm as your other hand reaches between your legs, swirling rapidly at your clit as you push yourself against his length, feeling every sensation of his rapid thrust. Peter grunts in response at the sensation of your fluttering cunt and it forces him to find one final push, his hips sputtering only slightly before he increases his angle and speed one last time, then he’s embracing you.

His arms wrap tightly around you as your final climax soaks his cock. Your head is buried into his neck as you try to shut out the overstimulation for just a few more strokes of his cock before he stills, his length pulsating as he finishes, only adding to the sensitivity between your legs making you squirm. He’s quick to push you off him as you do, his own sensitivity unable to take the feeling.

You both pause breathing deeply as you come down before he gives you a small tap and you flop onto your side on the bed. He quickly gets up, kicking his legs out to disperse the blood around them as his cock softens. You close your eyes to revel in the last dregs of your orgasm as he goes to your adjoining ensuite to sort himself out.

He takes a little longer than usual and you begin to frown, but then you hear the flush of the toilet and the door opening and you settle. You quickly get up, flashing him a smile as you hobble to your bathroom with legs like a newborn calf. Usual he’d let out a proud little chuffing laugh but this year he doesn’t.

When you return to see him sat on the side of the bed in his underwear, his fingers reaching to fix the necklace he had taken off back over his head and around his neck, you realize he looks distracted. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you ask him as you climb over the bed to your rightful side and slip between the covers.

His head turns, eyebrows raising as if he’s only just noticed you’re back in the room. “Huh?” he says. “Oh, nothing.”

“Really?” you say as he shuffles himself round to face you, put he doesn’t get under the covers. Peter doesn’t sleep over. He stays for a debrief and a chat for maybe another hour, some years two, but always leaves to return to his own apartment and bed.

“It’s just,” he says as he places an arm under his head as he gets himself comfortable, “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?” you reply as you shift into a similar position to his, facing him. You look like two kids at a slumber party who have moved so close to each other so you can whisper really quietly and not disturb the others who are sleeping.

“About pretending to have a boyfriend to get your Mom off your case.”

You frown at him, “Yeah, but it’d never work because she’d want to meet him.”

“Okay, yeah.” he says, but his tone isn’t one of defeat, it instead says ‘wait, hear me out’. “But what if you had someone to take home and pretend to be said boyfriend?”

You’re still confused. “What are you trying to get at here Parker?” You suddenly sit up, placing distance between the two of you as a realization hits you. “Wait, this isn’t you asking me out or trying to be my boyfriend is it? You know I don’t really do the whole dating thing. We have our arrangement and that's-”

“No. NO. Would you just hear me out.” he speaks over you and cuts you off as he too sits up defensively. “Look, I just thought we could come to some sort of arrangement.” You’re silent as he pauses and takes a deep breath and you wait for him to continue. “Okay.” he says, his hands folding in his lap, “This is probably gonna be my Aunt May’s last Christmas.” he says and the implication of his words make you bristle. He struggles to look at you, but your eyes remain fixed on him so he know that you are listening and paying attention, even if his words are starting to make you uncomfortable. “I don’t want her to die thinking I’m gonna spend the rest of my life alone, you know? I mean,” he sighs, collecting his thoughts before he continues, “I don’t want her to die without hope.”

“Okay.” you acknowledge quietly as you follow his words.

“So I was thinking, what if- just for this christmas,” he emphasizes, “what if we pretend to you know, actually date. Come the New Year we go our separate ways as normal, no strings attached, but you know, just to get our families off our backs so we can live our chosenly single lives.” He screws up his face a little at the word chosenly, which he’s all but sure he’s made up but figures he’s gotten his point across.

“So, we pretend to date for the holidays to get our parents off our backs?” you frown, checking you’ve got his proposal right.

“Yeah. You’d come for Christmas Eve dinner with my Aunt and I’ll…” his voice trails off as he wracks his brain for an equal solution for you.

“You’ll come to Boston with me for my Mother’s New Years party.” You fill in for him.

He hesitates a second realizing he’d actually need to travel and stay with you and your family to make things even on your side of things, but the thought of letting May die thinking he’s going to be lonely forever, has his stomach turning more so he hastily agrees. “Fine, but-” he interjects, knowing a single day with his Aunt for a supposedly 2-3 day trip with your family isn’t a fair exchange, “if my Aunt is still with us in February, you have to stop by on Valentines day.”

“I thought you just said we go our separate ways come January.” You respond.

“Yes, but one meal with my Aunt in comparison to a multi day trip to Boston is hardly an equal-”

“Fine. Fine.” You concede with your hands raised.

He relaxes slightly as you come to an agreement. “You wanna shake hands on it or something?” he offers. You roll your eyes, your fingers reaching for the pillow you’d pulled into your lap to nervously fiddle with instead, picking it up and throwing it at him. “Hey.” he jokingly exclaims as he holds his hands up to catch the pillow before it hits him in the face. “Is that any way to treat your new boyfriend?” he deadpans.

“Uuuhhgg.” you scoff back with another eye roll but you can’t help the tiny smirk that creeps into the corner of your mouth.

I'm going to upload the other parts of this mini series on the dates that match up with the story (Christmas Eve, New Years Eve), if you want to be added to the list below, please put it in writing. All current tags have been taken from likes, reblogs or comments from other posts about this series, if you wish to be removed, just let me know. (I had a few more names who liked posts but it wouldn't let me tag you, apologies, I'm not sure how to fix that but I hope this finds you anyway.) Once again if you did like this, please don't just like it, respond with some words of your own to give me a boost.

@sincericida @tarzinnia @raindropsandteaandtears @xenasolos @dil3mma @ms-wild-card-56 @shivani1902

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #Christmas Peter Parker story #tasm peter parker imagine #christmas imagine #holidate #fake dating #Peter Parker smut #one last date for christmas #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker

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sincericida · 9 months

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ANDREW GARFIELD practicing stunts for "The Amazing Spider-Man" (2012, dir. Mark Webb) is so stimulating! Shake off Sony's hard drive!

Andrew and his commitment and love for the character and his story is so touching 🥺

(source)

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siennafrxst · 1 year

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↳ mistletoe 𖤐𓈒࣪₊˚

pairing: peter parker x female reader

cw: fluff

word count: 342 words

a/n: much like my previous peter x reader fanfic, i’m pretty sure this works with any of the peters (tobey, andrew, or tom) so feel free to choose whichever you want to imagine this story with.

The snow was a beautiful clean white, the fireplace was crackling with bewitching flames, the songs were cheerful and merry, but Christmas wasn’t complete without her.

Peter gazes at Y/N, who seems to be staring intently at the window, the view being the sight of falling snowflakes and bursts of cold wind that would sway past. But, something else caught his eye. Something that was hanging on top of her—a mistletoe. That vibrant patch of green leaves decorated with dots of red that form into a perfect circle was located directly above her head. She was clever.

“Under a mistletoe?” He questions cheekily as he approaches the surprised woman.

Finally turning around, she faces her boyfriend, who had a smirk plastered on his lips. “What?”

“Why are you under a mistletoe?” He repeats.

Y/N shrugs, deciding to play along. “Oh… I’m waiting for someone.”

A look of hurt spreads across his face as he places a hand over his chest, pretending as though he had just been stabbed. “Really? Who is he? I’m insanely jealous.”

Y/N giggles at his little performance, to which he simply smiles to.

They continue to gaze out at the dark night sky, the moon glowing brightly atop of the world. It was stunning, but, something else was occupying Peter’s stream of thoughts.

“I’m glad you came,” he confesses, sincerity evident in his tone.

Y/N turns back to connect her eyes with his once more, slightly taken aback with his sudden confession. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

Peter shrugs, letting a soft sigh escape his lips. “I don’t know, I mean, it’s Christmas eve. I was expecting you to be with your parents.”

Y/N gently grabs onto his hands, pulling him closer. “I’d rather be with you this Christmas.”

Peter smiles warmly at her gesture, appreciating her genuineness. “Me too.”

That was when they finally closed the gap and kissed each other with full of love, the mistletoe still dangling above their heads as they make this Christmas feel more special… together.

I know it’s short but this fic has been in my drafts for a while and I just wanted to share it.

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pparkerized · 9 months

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wouldn't it be crazy if they were trying to make us think harry will be venom, that it looks so obvious but it's just a red herring. wouldn't it be absolutely insane if after everything we saw it wasn't harry, but peter instead?

this is barely a theory more of an au of sorts because i'm most definitely wrong here, i just like the concept. so, we know harry's been given a miraculous second chance with his return at the start. but we know that isn't going to last, taking it into consideration that it was the symbiote that healed him, he doesn't have it any more and his condition has started to destabilize. he starts getting sick again. it's at this point that peter finds out harry's dying, again, and he's trying to find a cure to heal him. properly this time.

so he has the symbiote and the hunt for connor's begins. harry's running out of time and peter's becoming even more desperate. but with kraven in the way of his goal that's bound to anger him, the more time he spends fighting kraven's goons the less time he has to help harry. he becomes even more desperate, more rageful and bitter. more unlike himself, as noted by mj and miles. harry was given a second chance, only to have it ripped away from him. he wants to help harry, he needs to help him, but things keep on getting in his way.

at the start of the story trailer harry says to peter, "we're going to heal the world" which is something venom later says too. it'd be a perfect contrast if it were peter as venom saying it, having some twisted way of thinking it's right and that in order to help harry, he needs to heal the world. sickness took away his aunt, and now another sickness is taking away his best friend. also, if it were peter thinking that it would be such a good parallel to when doc ock tells peter he's going to "change the world" it would bring everything full circle.

maybe peter has a brief moment of clarity where he realizes he's gone too far, but the symbiotes control is far too strong for him to overcome alone. and that's where miles comes in, forced to fight venom in order to free his mentor.

#i know it's harry. i know. he's having his own doc ock moment #but i really am tired of the whole #'terminally ill character ends up trying to heal themselves. only to become twisted and corrupt by what they used to heal themselves with'#they'd be stripping away the personality of a perfectly good character to make him a villain. harry doesn't always need to be a bad guy #also it'd literally just be his arc in tasm when he becomes the green goblin except he becomes venom instead so. we've seen this story #anyway i've ranted enough i'm done i swear #marvel #spider man #marvel spiderman #insomniac spider man #harry osborn #peter parker #venom

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prismatica-the-strange · 1 year

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For Me?

Warnings: 18+, fluff

Synopsis: This is totally self indulgent for what Peter would do on the days when Stella (me) doesn't want to eat for whatever reason (mainly the adhd).

"You hungry, Bell?" Peter asks. He's been laying with his head on Stelle's stomach for the better part an hour, listening to it periodically grumble.

"No, not really."

"You sure?" He laughs when her stomach makes another noise.

"Mhm," she hums. He almost drops the issue altogether when she starts playing with his hair, but the unfocused look in her eyes worries him.

"Stelle?" He sits up, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead before cupping her cheek, "You feelin' okay?"

"'M fine."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

She shakes her head, "No..."

His eyes narrow and he tilts his head, "Why not?"

"Just... wasn't hungry," she leans forward into his chest.

"Baby," He wraps his arms around her, "You can't do that."

"I know..."

"You want me to go make you something?"

She shakes her head again, pressing closer to his chest.

"Stelle," He pulls back to look at her, "C'mon, you gotta eat."

She's quiet for a moment, but ultimately agrees with him, nodding but not meeting his soft eyes, she whispers, "Okay."

She whines when he stands up, looking like a kicked puppy alone on the couch. So he unzips his hoodie and takes it off so he can wrap it around her shoulders.

She watches him in the kitchen, her chin resting on the back of the couch.

"I'm sorry," she says and he laughs.

"For what?" He glances at her over his shoulder, "Sweetheart, it's just a peanutbutter sandwich."

He steps back around the couch and squats in front of her, holding blue plate with a diagonal cut peanutbutter sandwich and handful of pretzels on it, "Chef's special."

"Thanks," She gives him a weak smile and sets it on her lap, but makes no move to eat it.

"Hey, come on," He encourages, "Just a couple bites."

She just pouts and reaches for him.

"No, no baby, not until you eat something," He picks up half the sandwich and holds it up for her to bite, "Please, Stellie?"

She looks at him, but doesn't budge.

"Here," he picks up the other half, "We'll split it. Come on now, Sweetheart, don't make me eat alone."

That seems to work. She let's out a small snort and rolls her eyes before taking a small bite.

"There's my girl!" He grins, taking a bite of his half. He jumps up to fall back next to her, pulling her close.

They eat in silence for a minute.

"Thanks... for y'know..." she leans her head on his shoulder.

"Shh..." he kisses the top of her head, "Thank you for trusting me enough to take care of you when you need it."

"Course I trust you, bubs." He smiles at that, she says it like it's the only truth that matters, "I love you."

#prisma self ships #prisma writes #the amazing stella lovette #tasm!peter Parker #tasm #self ship story #self ship writing #peter parker

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lukreziaaa · 2 years

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“I’m following you now. I’m just gonna follow you everywhere. I’m just gonna follow you the rest of my life.”

Peter Parker

#marvel #the amazing spiderman 2 #tasm 2 #spiderman #tasm!spider man #peter parker #tasm!peter parker #gwen stacy #peter x gwen #petergwen #and this is the end #they decided to leave everything open #never gonna know how Harry story and electro story end #[not my gif]

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maryvioletique7708 · 2 years

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Tasm 2 Harry.... In a Gown 👏😌👗✨

💖And then they lived happily ever after~💒 *Cries in Parksborn*

#maryvioletiquearts7708 #harry osborn #peter parker #tasm harry osborn #tasm peter parker #webbverse #the amazing spider man #tasm 2 #tasm #they lived happily ever after #wedding gown #✨yes✨#✨✌️parksborn foreva✌️✨#love story #by taylor swift #traditional sketch

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auryn-l-moony · 2 years

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Peter & Gwen - Lovers at School

tool : photoshop

#school #school life #aesthetic #my post #tasm peter parker #gwen stacy #the amazing spider man #gweter #lovers #couple #school love story

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softtdaisy · 2 years

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ALL YOUR BEAUTIFUL LIES - PETER PARKER

DESCRIPTION I peter hates lying. but how is he supposed to tell the girl he loves the truth about her dead boyfriend?

PAIRING I tasm!peter parker× fem!reader

WORD COUNT I 3,7k

A/N I it feels sooo good to write for Peter again I feel in love with him every single time. I really hope you will love this story 🤍

WARNING I mention of death

Lying was never the right solution. Peter knew it.

But from day one, he knew he was doomed with you. Because there was no way he could tell you the truth.

Peter met you a few months ago when you started working at Oscorp. Not only were you smart enough to deal with important projects there, but you were so nice that people weren’t scared to ask you for advices. It didn’t take long for the employees to appreciate you. And you quickly got known there as the girl that was dating Reid, one of the main managers in Peter’s sector. More specifically, they saw you as the one who managed to get his heart when he was seen as the hottest single person there. Girls were trying to have dates with him.

You had him in your bed.

Some of them were jealous, but most of Oscorp just saw you as a cute couple. You always had little intention for each other and were waiting for the other before leaving at night. Peter often compared the smile on your face when you were with Reid as the sun. You were illuminating the whole room when you were there.

Which, clearly, wasn’t the case today. Nobody excepted you to smile at your boyfriend’s funeral, anyway.

Peter had to be there, for you. Even if you weren’t the closest friends at work, it was inconceivable for him not to come and show you his support. You always had a nice word for him. You asked him about May more in a few months than anybody there in years. Peter felt noticed when you were there, like you were really seeing him next to you. And maybe Peter had a crush on you too, which mean his heart would never have allowed him to skip this funeral.

However, as Spiderman, he knew he shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t right.

“Thank you for being here, Peter.” He jumped when he heard your voice, too lost in his mind to notice you were coming to him. He hated that you didn’t have that bright smile on your face today. He hated that you were so sad your eyes were constantly red and so was your nose. He hated that he saw at least ten people giving you a hug to comfort you.

He hated that, it was partly his fault that you were sad today.

“I couldn’t leave you alone today. Not that you are alone! I saw your friends there, but…” Typically of Peter. He was so nervous around you that he got lost in his thoughts and words. But at least, he managed to make you chuckle slightly and it was worth every gaffe he could make. You stopped him by hugging him. You needed a hug more than anything. And somehow, seeing Peter here was comforting. You appreciated the boy, and it meant a lot for you to see his face in this crowd of mostly unknown people.

You were still in Peter’s arms when you let your mind talk, maybe for the first time since Reid’s death. “I can’t believe what happened, it doesn’t make sense.” You looked up at Peter. You were so confused that you didn’t notice he froze when you started talking about the accident. “What was Reid doing on the rooftop? Why did he jump? And what was Spiderman doing there if he couldn’t save him?”

Even if he was prepared for you to say his alias, Peter still jumped a little when he heard the way you said it. With some kind of bitterness. Like you were blaming him for your boyfriend’s death. Peter wished he could say something, but nothing was coming to his mind to save him.

Instead, he focused the people’s look on you two. He could easily imagine what they were thinking, seeing you in someone else’s arms at your boyfriend’s funeral. That was the reason he let you go suddenly and took a step back. “I…I have to go.”

You frowned, confused at his attitude’s change. “But call me if you need to change your mind!” Peter simply said before walking away. You guessed he left because of Reid’s friends looking at you, that was what you thought when you noticed their look too.

You had no idea that guiltiness was eating Peter alive.

And because you didn’t know about his feelings, either about Reid’s death or his crush on you, you indeed called Peter to hang out with you. You started during the week off you took because Oscorp reminded you of too many memories. You couldn’t deal with everyone’s pity look on you or the way they would try to be nicer with you because of your loss. But at the same time, you absolutely didn’t want to be alone. So, Peter went out with you to the grocery store or accompanied you on walks.

More than having company, you appreciated Peter’s presence by your side. There was something comforting about that boy. Maybe it was his gorgeous brown eyes that were so sweet it made you feel like you were the prettiest thing they ever look at. Maybe it was his big arms that made you think that nothing could ever happen to you, especially when Peter would put one over your shoulder to keep you close in the crowd. Maybe it was his laugh that made your day so much lighter every time you heard it.

Or maybe it was Peter in his entirety, the way he made you feel special during difficult times.

What you liked, too, was that Peter was always ready to come to you. You maybe took advantage of his kindness when you needed it. Like this one night you felt terrible after coming back to work. You texted Peter and asked him if he wanted to come to the cinema with you. “Sure, I’ll pick you up.” He replied, without asking about the movie.

The thing was, after spending a whole day surrounding by people who looked at you with sad smiles, you felt like the whole world was trying to make you feel bad. Especially considering you were slowly moving on Reid’s death.

For some reason, when Peter arrived and during the whole walk to the cinema, you felt like he was pitying you. And he noticed how you were distancing yourself from him. Peter really thought you had learned the truth. And for the first time, he realized how much he cared about you and how insufferable it would be for him to lose you. “What’s going on?” he finally asked you, grabbing you by the hand to prevent you from going away.

You didn’t answer at first. But when you looked at Peter, and interpreted his confused look for a sorry one, you couldn’t keep it to yourself. “I feel like the whole world knows I’m trying to move on and try to make me feel guilty with sad and pity looks. And you too!” you said, pointing a finger at him.

Peter was even more confused. “Me?” if one person had to feel guilty, it would be him. Why would he shame you? “I’m not pitying you, I’m encouraging you to keep going with your life.” He had this sweet voice he was using when he wanted to calm things down. He was doing that when you were crying in his arms, saying you should have noticed Reid’s behavior and he was convincing you it was never your responsibility.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes at this answer. But when you made a step forward, Peter pulled on your arm to bring you closer to him. He didn’t control his strength and you ended up against his chest. You were both breathless for a few seconds, looking at each other with a mix of excitement, desire and fear.

Peter slowly brought his other hand to your face to brush your hair away. “I’m not pitting you.” He whispered, giving you a small kiss on the lips. One that you could easily think you imagined. But one that you appreciated. Because even if Peter noticed your wish to kiss him, he didn’t take advantage of it. He just proved you he wanted it just as much.

“Should we keep going? We’re going to miss the ads.” He had this playful smile that meant ‘let’s pretend nothing happened.’ A smile that was hiding all his stressful feelings. And yours, at the same time. You still needed time before settling down with someone new, even if a part of you already knew that it would be with Peter. The only way you found to prove him you were not giving up on the idea was to hold his hand during the movie. You felt like two teenagers in love, but you didn’t care. You needed to discover love again, like it was the first time.

You opened yourself to the situation the more you were seeing Peter. From small dates to bigger one and weekend outside of the town, you accepted that maybe it was right for you to start a new relationship. Especially with someone so caring and gentle like Peter Parker. You thought that after what you went through, nothing could go wrong.

Until one day, you noticed the blue and red suit in his closet. You didn’t mean to; you weren’t curious about Peter’s life to the point you would look for things he wasn’t talking about. You just wanted to hang the jacket he landed you. You didn’t except to find the biggest secret someone ever kept from you.

Or what you thought, at that moment, was the biggest.

“So, I called the restaurant. We can be there at…oh.” When Peter entered the room, he immediately knew what was going on. He didn’t need to look more into it. He knew exactly where he had put his suit when he came back yesterday. He never planned on hiding it. He never planned on you coming here, in the first place.

There was so much to say and yet Peter couldn’t open his mouth to defend himself. His voice was gone and his thoughts off.

When you turned around, Peter saw your red eyes and the expression on your face. It was a mixed between anger and deception. Something he knew he deserved from keeping things from you. “How…how could you lie to me?” your voice was already broken and it broke Peter’s heart. Because you were already this miserable with just the sight of the suit, he couldn’t imagine how you would be once you learnt the truth. “You know what happened that night.”

It hit you right when you said it. After months of wondering why Reid had killed himself, you realized that Peter, who was always there to comfort you and tell you it wasn’t your fault, knew what really happened and why he did that. Then, you realized something else. “And you didn’t save him.” You let your first sob out. You couldn’t believe that New York’s favorite superhero couldn’t save your boyfriend. “Why? Why Peter!” you screamed, walking fast to him to hit his chest.

Peter was still silent while you were hitting him harder and harder. He wished you could hurt him physically so he could feel the same pain as you. He wished you would hit him harder or use anything else that would harm him for real. But he knew that you wouldn’t even try, you were too nice for that. “It’s more complicated than you think…” were the first words he said. And of course, you laughed. It was a nervous and angrily laugh.

“More complicated than what, Peter? What is more complicated than you watching Reid fall to his death and not trying to save him?” Every time you were saying that, Peter could see him fall again. And again. Desperately wishing there was a way to save him. But it was too late.

“Reid isn’t…wasn’t who you think he was.” These words stopped you from hitting Peter. You frowned and took a step back. No, he couldn’t be using that pathetic excuse of you didn’t know him. Because it wasn’t true. You were dating Reid; you knew that man perfectly. There was no way you didn’t know anything about him. No?

“And so what, hm? He was cheating on me? He had a double life? Another wife? Children maybe? What was he hiding Peter, go on tell me!”

As much as Peter understood why you were angry, it was eating him alive not to tell you the truth. But could you handle it? He was trying hard to fight the words that wanted to escape his lips, to prevent you from being even more hurt. But you were pushing him harder and harder that at one moment, he couldn’t fight anymore. “He was working at Oscorp to make an immortal cure, ok!” Peter heard his own voice, the way it was harsh like a teenager fighting his parents and telling them mean things. He wished he could have been, at least, gentler when telling you that.

“No! You’re lying!” you were now screaming through your tears. You didn’t want to believe Peter. He couldn’t be right. Reid wasn’t the bad guy. If one person was supposed to be, it would be Peter for not saving him.

Since you couldn’t handle the situation anymore, and didn’t want to hear more of Peter lies, you left his apartment. And he didn’t try to prevent you from doing so. If he was you, Peter wouldn’t believed a single word either. He knew you needed time. So, he watched you leave his place. Maybe his life.

He wasn’t surprised when you didn’t come back to work. Neither was he when he learned you resigned from Oscorp. He guessed that not only did it reminded you of Reid, but now it reminded you of Peter’s betrayal too.

For a month, Peter didn’t hear from you. And he gave you the space you needed to think about that mess. He was 99% sure that you would never speak to him again. Which is why he was quite surprised when he saw you standing in front of his door, one night. You said a simple hi before he invited you inside. And you didn’t speak until you put the folder you brought with you on the table. “Tell me what you knew about Reid’s plan.”

“I saw Reid one night at Oscorp. I had left earlier because I had a mission and I needed to get my stuff back. I thought nobody would be there, it was…10 P.M. I think or something like that. But then I saw Reid. He was working on an experiment, and I thought he was just making extra hours. I wasn’t supposed to be there, and he was the chief, so I didn’t make any noises and just took my stuff. But while I was ready to leave, I heard him grunt. I thought he hurt himself, so I ran there, and I stopped right before the door. That’s when I noticed he had injected himself with something.”

“When I came back the next day, Reid called me in his office and told me he knew I was there. Told me he heard some noises and when he didn’t see anybody, he looked at the cameras. So not only did he saw me, but he saw me as Spiderman. I thought I would be in trouble, but he asked me to stay that night to help him. I didn’t want to but my curiosity was too high, so I stayed and that when he explained to me what he wanted to do.”

“He told me he had lost his mom a few months ago and he wanted to work on some immortal cure, something that would prevent people he loved from ever leaving him. He was working on it, and he was testing it on himself. He offered me to take part of it since I had something special in my veins, blablabla. I refused because…well, I already went on that road, and it didn’t end well the first time. He didn’t argue he just asked me to not say anything to anyone, specially not you.”

“But I kept an eye on his project. There was something wrong with this, we are not meant to leave forever. I guess as long as Reid was working on himself, I didn’t mind. But the…the night he died, I got called at Oscorp. Reid was there. He had this arrogant look, very proud of himself. He wanted to tell me that the cure was effective, that he wanted to prove me that I was useless. I thought he just wanted to prove he was superior, and I was ready to let him think that. I didn’t care. Until he told me he was going to test it on you that night, because there was no way he would let such a pretty girl leave him.”

Peter was trying to be careful with his words and look at your reaction. You seemed absolutely calm on the outside, except for your hands grabbing the chair so hard that your joint was turning white. On the inside, you were screaming and blaming yourself for not seeing anything. “Keep going.” You said with a straight voice.

“I couldn’t let him do that. I…I already like you. And if I was ready to let you be happy with someone else, I would never let him hurt you. So, we fought, and I grabbed the flasks with his cure. I don’t know how but we ended up on the rooftop, still fighting for this stupid thing. I told him I couldn’t let him do that, that it was immoral to play with life like that especially with yours. He laughed at me, saying that it was cute to see me fight for my little crush like a teenager. That’s when I broke the flasks above the drain.”

“Reid went absolutely crazy. I thought I could convince him that he should find some help or anything but…he looked at me with that cruel smile. I still see it sometimes. He told me I had ruined his life and that I was going to pay the price. That’s when he let himself fall. I…I grabbed him, I managed to grab him and I thought I could bring him back on the roof. I never meant to kill me or not save him. But he uses some knife or something sharp to cut my webs and while I understand what he did, he was already…down there.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. What happened. How your perfect boyfriend was just a monster that wanted to make you his immortal wife. How he was so crazy he tried to steal Peter’s blood. How he would rather die than live forever. How Peter or Spiderman were never the bad guy of the story How…wrong you were about everything you ever thought. You fell on the chair and Peter immediately kneeled in front of you. He grabbed your hand slowly and you let him caress your skin. You needed that.

“I’m sorry for hiding this for you but there was no good way to tell you Reid wasn’t the guy you thought he was. I should have told you the first day, but you were grieving. And I never thought you would like me, and we would start dating, and then it was too late…” you could feel the regret in his voice. And you understood him, in some way. In his situation you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the person you love how they were wrong about the ex they idolize. So, you gave Peter a small smile.

“I probably wouldn’t have trusted you if you told me before, anyway.” You put your hand on the folder and brought it closer to you. “Now I do. It’s all the research he did for his stupid cure. There were hidden somewhere in the middle of his others documents from work.”

Peter gave one look at the documents. He will probably look more into it once you won’t be there, just to know more about that cure that led to this tragedy. But there was only thing he cared about right now, and it was the person sitting in front of him. Peter kept caressing your skin. He missed you even more than he thought he was. That was how he knew he was really in love with you.

“Do…you want to stay?” he asked with a small voice. He knew there was high chance you won’t want to stay. He still lied to you and it wasn’t because you accepted to come back here to see him that you were ready to start over.

You looked up at Peter. You wanted to. You really wished you could say yes and spend the night with him like nothing happened. But it wouldn’t be right. Because you knew that if you started this too early, you would ruin this relationship. “I’d rather leave.”

Peter nodded. He got up immediately to make you feel pressured to stay any longer. He thought that maybe, letting you leave faster would make you come back quicker. So he accepted to watch you take your bag back and go to his door. He accepted the small kiss you gave him on the cheek to say goodbye. He accepted to watch you leave him, one more time, without being sure that you would ever come back.

But right before he closed the door, you realized you forgot something. “Peter?” You saw his face coming out of the door. He was frowning, curious why you were calling him again. He looked at you walking to him. You didn’t hesitate a single second before putting your hand on his cheek. It was the right thing to do, you knew it. The next second, you gave Peter a simple kiss on the lips. Right like he did at the cinema, weeks ago.

Just to prove him that you still wanted him in your life. You just needed time.

#peter parker #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker story #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker angst #peter parker x female!reader #tasm!Peter Parker x reader #tasm!Peter Parker imagine #tasm!Peter Parker story #tasm!Peter Parker x female!reader #tasm!peter parker #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #Andrew garfield imagine #Andrew garfield story #my writing

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djokeery · 6 months

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love steve harrington? great! i posted two new multi-chap fics today!

this one involves spider-man: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51105028/chapters/129120742#workskin

and this one is a post-st4 character study: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51413671/chapters/129924169

enjoy!

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backtothefanfiction · 8 months

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Your Favourite Place | tasm!peter x reader short

Warnings: all fluff here.

A/N: a small little second part to His Favourite Place. His favourite place is the top of the Empire State Building, yours isn’t really a place, it’s more of a moment.

“Ow. OWW. OUCH PETER GET OFF ME!” You grumble as the weight of his body crushed you between the edge of the bed and the wall. You rolled your body violently, desperate to be able to breathe and to your surprise his body rolled not just off you, but off the tiny single bed completely with a thud.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to crack open your window after a long night of patrolling the city and crawl into bed with you. Sometimes you were awake and other times you were already asleep; sometimes he’d crash on the sofa with a blanket, other times like tonight, he tucked himself right in beside you.

“Ouch, what was that for?” He grumbled as he got up off the floor, rubbing a spot on his head slightly where he had hit it on the way down.

“You were crushing me.” You groaned as you also took this opportunity with him out of the bed to steel the covers back, Peter was a covers hog.

“Okay, okay.” He said his hands out in surrender, his eyes half closed with sleep again already, as he went to climb back onto the bed.

You grumbled as he inevitably wrestled the covers back off you again and with the way he was now laying on his back had you squeezing yourself up against the wall again. You sat yourself up with a huff.

“This isn’t working.”

“Okay. Okay.” His voice was sleepy and hoarse and barely audible.

He lifted up the covers, spreading his limbs out further, his arms outstretched, encouraging you to lay down on top of him, your legs manoeuvring themselves over his so you could lie in between them. Your head found a comfy spot in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, your body relaxing with the comfort of his scent as he let the covers drop and his arm snaked around you. His fingertips brushed against a small patch of exposed skin on your back from where your T-shirt had lifted and his head turned slightly so his lips could tenderly touch the top of your forehead. It sent tingles through your body and you sighed with content as you let your body relax down fully against him.

The top of the Empire State Building may be his favourite place, but this right here would always be yours.

#Peter Parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm! peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Spider-Man #one shot #tiny story

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sincericida · 9 months

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Tobey, it was also invigorating for all of us who love Spidey’s stories ❤️

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izzylovesyou2022 · 2 years

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The Poet And The Beat~ TASM!GUITARIST!Peter Parker

Plot: Peter meets Evie, a poet looking to make a name in a new town. He’s a guitarist looking for a new start. They won’t fall in love.....or willll they?

Tropes: friends to lovers, guitarist!au, poet!au

Evie Cast knew too much about writing to be called a beginner. After all, she’d been writing since the age of seven. She’d published a book of poems when she turned twelve.

Unfortunately, the world didn’t treat her like her friends did. Her rounded face made her look too young for most publishers. Evie was young for publishing standards, having just turned eighteen six months ago. Not that she really cared what people thought of her. She’d publish on Amazon if she had too.

Little detailed snowflakes slipped into her hair and blanketed the ground as she walked along the streets of New York.

Evie had moved here from a small town in upper New York. She’d dreamed of living in the big city her whole life and she jumped at the chance to work at a newspaper firm as an editor.

As Evie moved along, carefully watching her step, her thoughts wandered to a new book she’d been editing for the last few weeks. Nature being one of her favorite subjects, she believed it was high time she published a book about it.

As so often happened when her brain wandered to thoughts of poetry, Evie lost track of her surroundings. She’d stopped paying attention to where she stepped and didn’t notice the large mark of ice until it was too late.

Up went her legs into the air as her arms twirled, trying hard to catch herself. Evie winced as she braced herself for impact with the cold surface but got quite the shock when she felt a pair of strong arms embracing her instead.

“Hey, you gotta be careful on these streets. Are you alright, cookie?”

Any other day, Evie would’ve been pissed at a guy calling her a nickname like that, but she allowed herself to be wrapped up in the warmth of the voice saying it and dared to look at him.

A pair of hazel brown eyes that looked like a nice cup of hot chocolate were locked on hers, a concerned frown tugging at his lips. She observed brown waves of hair sticking out under a royal blue beanie and the gold flash of a chain around his neckline.

“Oh, um, yes, thanks to you,” Evie breathed, steadying herself against him as he placed her back on his feet. His muscles heaved under her fingers and she had a quick flash of how those arms would feel wrapped around her in another way.

“I’m Peter,” the boy offered, flashing Evie a sweet smile that could’ve melted her into a puddle on the spot if she hadn’t been shaken up.

Evie licked her lips in an attempt to swallow her shock and gave Peter a smile in return.

“Evie. Evie Cast.”

She noticed a flash of something....maybe familiarity....spark across Peter’s haunting hazel eyes and noticed his hands reaching for the straps of his backpack.

“Weren’t you the girl that published a poetry book when you were 12?”

Evie stared and nearly choked in complete shock. How had he even come across her book? She didn’t even think it had made its way to the “Big Apple!” Wait....had he read her book? If he’d read her book, she’d pass out right here on the sidewalk.

“Um, yeah, I was.”

Peter suddenly took her by the elbow and steered her in the direction of a nearby coffee shop. Evie went along with it, mostly because her brain had short-circuited too much to ask any questions.

That her book might have actually been read by people living in the biggest city in the country was made than she could handle. And the cute boy next to her might have read it! How was she going to get through the rest of the day?

The blast of warmth from the coffee shop tore Evie from her reverie and she gasped in a huge breath of air, thankful to be out of the cold.

Her eyes wandered around the room as Peter steered her towards the counter. At the table right next to the counter was a man not much older than herself. His pen tapped along the rings of his notebook as he whispered to himself. He must’ve been talking himself through his next writing, Evie thought.

In the far corner of the shop stood a black bookshelf with tons and tons of books. Evie hoped there might be an Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman novel waiting for her to open.

“Hey, cookie? Do you know what you want to drink?”

This time, it was Peter’s voice that withdrew Evie from her daydream and forced her attention upward towards the menu hanging on the ceiling.

“Just a hot chocolate for me, thank you,” she told the worker as she dug into her purse for her wallet.

She had just placed her golden yellow wallet up onto the counter and made a movement to withdraw her card when the clucking of a tongue caught her attention.

“Tsk, Tsk, cookie. The man always pays on the first date.”

Evie opened her mouth to protest but one quick glance into those hazel eyes and all arguments flew out the window. This was so unfair. She wasn’t supposed to be tongue tied. After all, she’d been using words all over the place her entire life. But this devil named Peter Parker somehow snatched away her ability to say a word.

She swallowed hard and shook her head to clear it as Peter handed her the drink.

“You’re not normally this tongue-tied, are you, cookie?”

Evie managed to find her words and regain control of herself as she and Peter took seats near a wide window near the front of the cafe.

“No, Peter, I’m not. Can I ask why you pulled me into the cafe?”

She eyed Peter with an arched eyebrow and smiled around her cup when his face painted cherry red.

“Well,” he began, fumbling with his cup in an attempt to avoid Evie’s eyes, “I’ve always wanted to meet you. You just have a way with words that could really fit in with my music.”

A thoughtful hum exited her mouth and she lowered her cup, steam swirling from the open lid.

“You’re a guitarist, then?”

Peter looked down at the table and slowly nodded.

“And you would like to have me as a song writer.”

Peter’s eyes widened to an almost bizarre amount as he finally gathered the courage to lock eyes with her. Could this girl actually read his mind?

“Yeah.”

A smirk played at the edge’s of Evie’s lips as she tossed the purple straight hair away from her eyes. Song writing was not so different than poetry writing. She’d done both but found that, basically, they were one in the same. Except lyrics had music behind it.

“When do you want me to start?”

*******************************************************************************************

Fate felt very determined to pull Peter and Evie together. They’d run into each other more times than could be counted in that next week. They’d spent most of that week discussing the song over text and phone calls. Most of those phone calls were interrupted by shouts from Peter’s Aunt May about one thing or another, but Evie couldn’t really say she minded all that much.

“Have you given a lot of thought to the melody yet, Pete,” she asked on a snowy Saturday afternoon at the same coffee shop. Their table bore two different notebooks: one was Peter’s and the other was Evie’s.

Peter’s red guitar case leaned against the window still. He’d been fingering with the zipper, lost in thought until Evie’s question brought him back to reality.

“I kinda have something but it’s not exactly finalized, ya know?”

Evie hummed and glanced down at the words she had written down. Peter wasn’t expecting perfection, she knew that, but she’d started caring enough for Peter over that last week that she wanted his song to be a marvel.

She eyed Peter’s guitar case and, with great finality, slammed her notebook shut.

“Let me see your guitar, Pete.”

If Peter in anyway felt confused or concerned at the sudden eagerness in Evie’s voice, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he simply did as she asked and took the guitar it’s case.

The once clean guitar held dents and scars from years of being played. A particularly nasty dent lay right near the bottom guitar string (the “E” string), but in their eyes, a guitar sounded much much better as an older, imperfect instrument.

“What do you have in mind there, cookie,” he asked, sitting up much straighter in his chair than he had been.

Evie paid no mind to his question and swayed in her seat as she delicately plucked each string. Her slender fingers danced over the strings as her booted foot tapped lightly against the floor. She hadn’t told Peter that she had once played the guitar before she gave it up due to writing taking her main focus.

She stared down at her closed notebook and shivered. The thought of picking up guitar again moved something inside her. Like her heart screamed at her to go back to the days of playing the guitar and writing little songs.

“I’m thinking we should do an acoustic song, Pete. Something beautiful that will draw people in,” she decided, tilting her head at Peter as her fingers played with the strings.

Peter’s lips quirked dangerously to the side at the sight of Evie staring at him with those big green eyes. Those eyes that held so much light and joy. If he held the melody, she held the very words into his soul.

Was he falling too fast? Yes, but that wasn’t for him to decide. His heart needed to have her.

*******************************************************************************************

It had been about two months since Peter and Evie met but the sparks between them grew stronger every day. For them, meeting up wasn’t just about the songs anymore. No, the meetings were for them.

On this particularly warm winter day, Peter walked the two blocks from his apartments to Evie’s work to take her on a surprise date. He’d decided to dress up a little by wearing a purple collared shirt, khakis, and a new pair of winter boots. Evie would be coming out of work any moment.

“Oh! Peter, I thought you had to go into the studio today,” Evie exclaimed as she stepped around the corner of the door. Not that she wasn’t pleased to see Peter, he always managed to make her smile.

She smiled even wider and her heart beat a little faster as Peter took her hand in his. His huge fingers engulfed hers but she welcomed the size-difference. Peter had called her “shorty” so many times the last week, it became an inside joke for them.

“Well, cookie, it just wouldn’t be a good day without seeing your pretty face,” Peter sang out, causing Evie to laugh in spite of the blush on her cheeks.

“Not too loud, Petey! Don’t want all of New York to hear,” she giggled.

A tight squeeze on her hand made her look up into Peter’s gorgeous hazel eyes.

“I forgot you’re more of the quiet type. Sorry, cookie!”

Another laugh echoed from Evie’s throat and she rolled her eyes good-naturally at him.

“Where are you taking me, Petey? A secret hideout?”

“No, cookie. I’m taking you to the studio.”

Evie gasped and looked at him in complete shock. He was finally taking her to the studio? She’d dreamed of visiting there for two months!

“My manager’s been asking about you,” he explained as they stomped up the steps, “she wants to meet my little muse.”

First cookie and now muse? Was Peter intentionally trying to hold Evie’s heart in his hands? Did he ever understand how unfair she was actually being?

The smirk on Peter’s face as he pushed open the studio door told Evie he did, in fact, know exactly what he was doing.

Now she just needed to decide if she wanted to kick him or kiss him.

*******************************************************************************************

Evie hadn’t wanted to commit murder in a long time. Normally she was super cool with handling sexist or rude remarks from men, but this time, her emotions bubbled to the top of the surface.

She’d been working on the sports section of the newspaper when the ink slipped right out of her hand and smashed onto the floor. A moment that Evie no longer found truly embarrassing. She’d done it and seen it way too many times.

Her manager had been working with another employee at the time but when he heard the crash, he spun away and caught Evie’s eye.

“That’s alright, Evie. Just clean it up and try again.”

Evie gave her manager a thumbs up and trotted away to grab some paper towel. Her manager was the nicest guy in the world. She’d found out that he, too, had read the poetry book she’d published at twelve. He’d complimented her on her writing skills at such a young age.

“Not every one can write like that so young, Evie,” he’d told her.

As Evie cleaned up the spill, she overheard a coworker--James-- who’d always had an issue with her speak to the manager.

“How many times has she spilled ink, boss? That ain’t a good look for her.”

The manager shot James a look and warned him to get back to his job.

“She’s one of the hardest workers here, James. Everyone messes up once in a while.”

James rolled his eyes as Evie walked away to toss the paper towel into the trash.

“She doesn’t even belong here, boss. She should be in the kitchen making us some food. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Evie’s body trembled as tears stung at her eyes. She’d known James was a jerk but to say a comment like that? He was far more sexist than she’d believed.

“How about you shut your fucking mouth, James? If I made you a sandwich, I’d sure as hell make sure there were ink stains on it!”

Then, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the building. The manager never even stopped her. He was too busy ripping James a new one.

Evie kept on walking, ignoring the cold, ignoring the snow, ignoring the fact that in her hurry, she’d forgotten her coat. Anger traveled through every inch of her veins and her blood ran between hot and cold. Her teeth clattered from the harsh wind but Evie barely noticed.

She just kept walking until she reached a familiar front door. She banged three hard knocks on it and took in huge gasps of air to control her breath. Her eyes were so full of tears she couldn’t see.

“Cookie?”

Warm arms wrapped around Evie and lead her inside. A thick blanket was placed around her shoulders and someone pulled her into their lap.

“Hey, cookie, what happened?”

Evie looked up at Peter as her lower lip trembled again.

“My coworker! He’s awful! Just so sexist! H-he made a comment at me and n-normally I’m okay b-but this one just really got to me.”

The entire story tumbled out of Evie like waves upon waves of a dam finally breaking. She clung tighter to Peter with every single word she spoke and by the time she was finished speaking, her head was buried into his shoulder to try and muffle her sobs.

Careful hands stroked through the waves of her thick hair and kind lips pressed against the top of her head. Evie had never felt this exhausted from her emotions her entire life.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him, believe me, cookie.”

Evie pulled her head off her shoulder to stare into his eyes. She must’ve looked like an awful mess but the light in Peter’s eyes and the lines softening the corners of his mouth told a different story.

She reached up her hands, wrapped around the oversized sweater she’d been given sometime during her breakdown, and shakily cupped Peter’s cheeks. This boy was more than just a guitarist: he was an artist in every sense of the word. Although the songs had no words, his melodies hit Evie in the soul right where a piece of her was missing.

If he had been missing the words of a true poet, than she’d been missing the plucking of the strings of an old guitar with dents and scratches carved into the wood. The dents and scratches telling a story that would outlast even the oldest of songs.

“You finish that melody yet, Pete,” she murmured, lowering her head to touch Peter’s forehead with her own.

Peter gasped quietly as her skin touched his. His guitar-worn hands carefully slid along her back before coming to rest on her hips. In front of him sat the most marvelous, beautiful, and exquisite masterpiece he’d ever seen or heard.

Her little poems, those words flowing endlessly through pen or her own divine lips, were the lyrics his heart had been missing.

“No, cookie,” he whispered back, his lips almost touching hers.

Evie brushed her nose against his and giggled at the nose scrunch that followed.

“The Poet and The Beat,” she whispered before her lips connected with his.

Peter didn’t need any further information to understand what her words meant. They, together, poet and guitarist, created one word where sound and lyrics collided. That was to be their moniker, their brand, their way of life. The Poet and The Guitarist together as one.

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