sincericida · 5 hours
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𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | tasm peter parker
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tasm peter parker x f!reader 5,899 words warnings; smut, mentions of violence and death summary; she really shouldn’t have come to the party. she doesn’t belong here. and she really wasn’t trying to steal the backpack. and she certainly didn’t expect to feel so connected to a boy she had just met…
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 Some trendy new pop song boomed and echoed throughout the room, and she fought the urge to stick her fingers into her ears deep enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear a single thing anymore. She’d only heard this same song playing everywhere from the supermarket down the street from her dorm, through the speakers of some car passing down the street with the windows rolled down, in the restaurant she’d been dragged to by one of her friends. 
 How many times can you put a song on repeat before it gets tired?
 Clearly, that limit hadn’t been reached yet. 
 A frat boy stumbled backwards into her side, the liquid in his red solo cup swishing around, streams falling down the side like tears. She could hear him laughing just over the music, and he didn’t turn to say sorry before following his friends drunkenly through the sea of tipsy students. 
 Her throat felt dry, and she grimaced, feeling as though she were swallowing knives. She found her way to the kitchen, peering down into the punch bowl set out. She blinked. It clearly wasn’t punch. 
 It wasn’t that she didn’t drink— she had once when she felt she had no other option when hanging out with her friend who brought a friend who brought another friend. One of the friends of a friend had taken it upon themselves to bring a bottle of whiskey, and she feared how it would look if she were the only one to not accept a cup. 
 She remembered looking down into the red solo cup, rolling her wrist and watching its contents swirl around. She remembered wondering if anybody was staring or wondering why she wasn’t drinking, and without looking up, she downed the whole thing in one burning gulp. 
 She needed some fresh air. 
 Just as she was about to make her much needed escape, she turned, her roommate making her way over to where she stood, her irises blurry, no doubt by the contents of the punch bowl. “Where are you off to?” Her roommate asked, her words slightly slurred. She wrapped her arms around herself, scanning the room. “Just getting some air,” she replied. “My head is pounding.”
 “Oh shit, did somebody spike your drink?” Her roommate giggled, her bleary eyes darting to somewhere behind her. She peered over her shoulder to see what she could be looking at, and her gaze fell upon another drunk boy talking with his friends, sneaking glances over to where she and her roommate stood. 
 Thankfully, it meant she wouldn’t be held up for much longer. 
 “No, it’s just.. it’s hot in here, you know?” She said in a somewhat nervous chuckle. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, she was an adult now for goodness sake, why did she still act like a fibbing middle schooler? “I’ll be back in a minute once I’ve cooled off.”
 Her roommate didn’t seem to care much as she walked away, past the boy she was making ‘I want to fuck you’ eyes to, through the crowd of numb-minded students, and out the first door she could get to. 
 She found herself standing in the hallway, the music inside the apartment now muffled but still booming through the walls. She wondered how a party of this size was allowed in a building like this, but then she remembered that it was college, and New York, for that matter. 
 She walked down the hallway towards the stairs, and she glanced up at the stairwell as she stepped inside. She climbed the few flights leading up to the roof and pushed her way through the door, the wind and Brooklyn’s chilly night air hitting her all at once, and she shivered, balling the sleeves of her sweater in her fists. 
 It was quieter up here than it was at the party, but when she reached the edge of the roof and sat herself down, swinging her legs over the side of the building, she found that the life below was just as alive. The streets below were bustling with people— college students, parents, elderly people. It may have been close to midnight but still, the city stayed awake, refusing to sleep. 
 The lights of the city winked and gleamed brilliantly in the distance, and she could hear the far away sounds of sirens. Even late at night, people couldn’t help but get themselves into trouble. 
 She swung her feet in circles, gazing down at the ground below. Even from up here, she still felt the life of the party a few stories below, whatever trendy new pop song that was playing now making the entire building quake. It just reminded her of how alone she was— literally and figuratively. 
 She didn’t mind so much now that there was no one around to judge her, she preferred to be with herself anyways. 
 She turned to look over her shoulder at the roof behind her, her gaze falling upon something she hadn’t noticed before. An eyebrow raised to her hairline and out of curiosity, she spun herself around, her palms flat against the stone to push herself back onto her feet. Slowly, she made her way over to what she had seen, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes to get a better look. 
 It was very dark. 
 It was a backpack— who would leave a backpack sitting around on rooftops in New York? She bent down to pick it up and felt around her back pocket for her phone, fishing it out and using the illuminated screen to search for a name, a number, an address, anything. 
 Of course, she could easily unzip the backpack and feel around its contents to search for some sort of identification, but she wouldn’t have felt right looking through someone’s belongings. 
 She was saved from doing so by a swishing noise that immediately caught her attention, and she snapped her head around to the source of it, seeing nothing but darkness again. Goosebumps littered her skin, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from unsettlement. 
 Out of pure instinct, she backed away from where she had found the backpack, her nails digging into its fabric as she crouched again just as she could hear another swishing sound, and a figure appeared on the roof. She blinked. Where did this person come from?
 Whoever it was was silent as they approached the place the backpack had been just moments before, and her muscles tensed at the realization that she was still holding the backpack, her fingernails clutching it so hard she wondered if they had bent by now. 
 “…backpack?” She could hear the person say and she watched as they turned in circles, scanning the area for said backpack. This was also when she noticed that the person— a man, judging from the voice— was wearing a spandex suit. 
 A very familiar spandex suit she’d seen many times on the news before. 
 “Goddammit,” the man cursed, his hands reaching up to either side of his head, quickly deciding they’d rather rest on his hips instead. He turned around again, another curse emitting from behind his mask, a little more loudly this time. 
 She had just revealed herself from her hiding place just as the man ripped the mask from his head, dark and messy hair erecting from his head at once. 
 She gasped and clutched the backpack tighter, recoiling when he turned to face her, his eyes wide and his lips agape. For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other, neither seemingly able to move or speak. 
 Eventually, she blinked down at the bag in her hands, both of her arms shaking as she held it out towards him. “I.. uh.. think this is yours?” She grimaced. Her voice was shaky. 
 The man made no moves to move right at first, seemingly still in shock that she was even here, that she could see his face. They were one in the same in that regard. 
 “I.. uh,” he finally said, and as he carefully approached, his features slowly came into view. He had a handsome face, one she couldn’t quite tell if she’d seen around before, and his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. They, too, were brown like his hair, irises so dark that they almost matched the pupils in the middle. “Thank you,” he spoke, gently accepting his backpack that she had been clutching tightly up until that point. Her hands felt freer now that they weren’t holding the bag, although now she struggled to find something for them to do. 
 She eyed his body up and down, slowly, taking in his attire. She could just make out the black web patterns across his chest, a spider in the middle. He still eyed her carefully, unsure of what to make of her. She flushed beneath his gaze. 
 “I swear I wasn’t trying to steal it or anything,” she rushed out, her skin feeling hotter than ever as she squinted her lids shut. Now was not the time to let her nerves get the better of her. “I just found it and I was trying to see if there was a name or something on it and then you came and..” she paused, half for breath, half out of disbelief. She gazed into his eyes and then let her sight fall back down to his body. “You… you’re Spider-Man?”
 She almost immediately regretted it after she said it. He scrunched his face and peeled a single eyelid open, gripping his backpack in one hand as he made a jazz hands gesture, as if to say ‘surprise!’ “It’s me…” he trailed off, a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment in his tone. 
 She blinked. She wasn’t sure what to say. 
 Her gaze averted to the place on the roof she had first seen him at. She pointed to it, “you just swung onto the roof.” He nodded, his arms falling limp in front of him, tapping his fingers against his backpack. “Yep…” he said, still uncertain. “Listen, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go off telling everyone who I am like.. under the mask,” he continued, and she quickly shook her head. 
 “No, of course not,” her words tumbled from her lips. “It’s not like I even know who you are anyway… couldn’t find a name on the backpack…” she muttered the last part, thinking aloud. The man cocked an eyebrow at this, “you don’t know who I am?”
 She tilted her head at this, “am I supposed to know who you are?”
 He blinked. “You go to this college right?”
 He still looked confused. She must have too. So it was possible she had seen this man before? Did he go to this college too? Spider-Man went to the same college she did?
 “Huh,” he nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He walked away, over to where she had just been sitting with her legs hanging over the edge, and he mimicked this. She raised an eyebrow in question and made her way over to where he sat, making sure there was distance between them as she sat down. “What does that mean?” She asked, and he turned to look at her, tilting his head. 
 “What does what mean?”
 “Yes, you said huh just now when I said I went here.”
 He finally seemed to understand and his lips curved as he emitted a small, nervous laugh. “Oh, I just..” he trailed off, looking over at her and shaking his head, his gaze averting to the ground below. “I just thought you would know who I am, is all.”
 She found herself feeling bad, but it was a big college after all. She couldn’t know everybody. 
 “Well, do you know me?” She questioned, and he glanced back up at her. 
 He shook his head. “No.”
 Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips. “Then how can you expect me to know who you are?”
 “I didn’t expect you to, I just thought you would.”
 She rolled her eyes at this and turned to stare absentmindedly at the city on the horizon ahead, but couldn’t suppress the urge to laugh. She tilted her head and turned it when she heard him laugh too. 
 He had a pretty smile, she couldn’t help but think. Almost too pretty, annoyingly pretty. She could see him in better light now, thanks to the lights on the edge of the building. His hand moved to his hair, his fingers weaving through the umber tresses in an attempt to tame them. A silence ensued between them, but then he looked back over at her. 
 “So, why aren’t you down at the party?” He asked, gesturing with his eyes down below. It was then that she was reminded that there was a party, that she was there not that long ago, one of the bodies in the sea of tipsy dancing and drunken hollering. She shrugged, “realized it wasn’t my type of thing after all.”
 “Hm,” he nodded, turning to look ahead. “Were you on your way there?” She asked, and he nodded again, to which she recoiled. “Oh, then don’t keep me holding you up,” she waved him off. “You go have fun. I’m sure you were looking forward to it after..” she trailed off, gazing back down to his Spider-Man suit. “..after whatever you were doing.”
 He laughed again and shook his head, their eyes meeting when he turned back to face her. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “I think I prefer being up here anyways.”
 She was sure it wasn’t intended to be flirtatious, but she still couldn’t help but flush, feeling heat creep up her neck. She turned back towards the city in the horizon, its lights still shining brightly, polluting the night sky. The city was still awake and bustling with all sorts of noise, but it somehow felt quieter than before. 
 “So… why go to a party if it isn’t your thing?” He asked, breaking the silence. She glanced over to where he sat, now leaning back and resting on his elbows. His focus was now on her, and she self-consciously tucked her hair back behind her ear, unable to meet his gaze as she searched her brain for an answer. 
 “I don’t know. My roommate wanted me to go but she ended up leaving me pretty much as soon as we got there,” she shrugged. “I didn’t want to drink but it seemed like that was all there was to do there.”
 “Aw, come on, you’re not a drinker?” He teased, but at first, her chest tightened and she thought he was being serious. The heat from her neck crept up to her cheeks as she turned away, her shoulders hunching forward as if she were closing in on herself like an armadillo. “Hey, I’m joking,” he laughed, giving her arm a playful punch. She could feel her muscles relax again at the sound of his laughter and she looked back over at him, her smile returned to her face. 
 How could she be so stupid?
 “Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m not good at communication. Or taking jokes.”
 He pressed his lips together, and his expression softened. His smile looked sweeter this way. “That’s cool,” he nodded. “I’m not either.”
 She rolled her eyes at this. “Oh come on, Spider-Man,” she was surprised at the teasing lilt in her own voice. “You’re like everybody’s favorite hero. Surely you’re better at human interaction than I am.”
 He chuckled and turned to rest on the elbow closest to her, his other hand fiddling his other one. He stared at his hands for a moment, as if he found comfort in watching them. “Maybe as Spider-Man, yeah,” he tittered. “But not as Peter Parker.”
 She tilted her head. “Is that your name?” She asked, and he nodded. 
 Peter Parker. 
 Peter Parker. 
 Peter Parker. 
 “Peter Parker,” she just had to test the name out on her own tongue. “S’ got a nice ring to it.” His smile widened. 
 “Well, now you have to tell me your name,” he snickered. “It’s only fair.”
 Her laugh came out like a breath. “I suppose.”
 So she gave him her name, first and last. He said her name once, and then he said it again, and again, and again, each time in a different tone. She chuckled at this, and she swung her legs back from over the side of the building, sitting criss-crossed in front of him. “Why do you keep saying it?” She questioned with a laugh, and he beamed. 
 “I wanted to test out saying your name in different situations,” he spoke matter-of-factly. “For instance, here’s me saying it when I’m sad.” He said her name with a pout, his eyebrows raised as he gave puppy dog eyes. She threw her head back as she laughed, mostly as an excuse to look away. 
 She’d known him for less than twenty minutes but he was already adorable. 
 “When I’m mad.” He tried faking anger, but it just looked so wrong on him, she could feel more laughter bubbling up in her chest, and she rushed her hand to her lips as she tried to contain it. He raised an eyebrow at this. “What?” 
 She shook her head, her hand closing tighter around her mouth. “You think I’m being funny, do you?” He asked, and she shook her head, and although her hand was covering her smile, she was sure her eyes were crinkling to give her away. 
 “Hey. I’ll have you know that I am very scary when I’m mad,” he stuck his nose in the air. “You’re lucky you haven’t seen my bad side yet.”
 Her chest stuttered as she tried to swallow her laugh, her hand falling from her face and resting back down at her side. 
 “Oh yeah?” 
 “Yes. You should fear me.”
 “Oh god. I’m practically pissing my pants already.”
 He pressed his lips together, his cheeks puffing outwards before his shoulders began to shake, and he dropped his head, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. She joined along and soon, neither one of them could stop it. 
 She had tears in her eyes when their laughter finally died down, and she flicked droplets away from her eyelashes, blinking the rest away. When they were both quiet, she turned to look at him again. He was looking down at his hands again, his smile still on his face but somehow fainter than before. 
 “So, what were you doing before this?” She questioned, and he peered up at her, letting his gaze linger on hers for a few moments before he looked back down. “I was, uh, just downtown. There was an ATM robbery so I went and dealt with that,” he scratched his head. ATM robbery. She wondered if that was where the sirens she had heard earlier were heading to. 
 “Did you catch them?”
 “The robbers.”
 “Oh,” he nodded with a small smile. “Yeah.”
 She took the time to take a closer look at Peter, and just before he bowed his head towards his hands again, she caught a glimpse of his eyes and saw something she hadn’t seen before. They were dark, like she’d gathered earlier, and they did in fact glisten in the light. But there was something else in them, something murky, and it felt like standing in a swamp, trying to trudge through the thick waters. There was something sad about him, something there she hadn’t quite discovered yet. 
 Of course, they had only met about twenty minutes ago. 
 People were like books, after all, their minds and their hearts were their own personal bible. It could take days to figure somebody out, weeks, months, years. It simply wouldn’t feel right to ask him something so personal now when they had just met. 
 But she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her, about the ATM robbery, at least. And she wanted to know. 
 “But there’s more to it, isn’t there?” She asked, and Peter, with his eyebrows knit together, glanced up at her. For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, almost in a stand-offish type of way. Her heart began to pound in her chest and she could hear her heartbeat drumming in her ears. It was as if in that one single glance, they were trying to figure each other out, or at least in Peter’s case, try to figure out if she could be trusted or not. 
 His expression softened. He had no reason not to. Plus, they may have only met half an hour ago, but there was already something about her. Something about her made him feel like they already had an understanding of each other, as if their minds were already on the same wavelength. 
 So, he drew air into his lungs, and spoke. 
 “No, there was… there was something else,” he began, looking back down at his hands. She pressed her lips together, eyes choosing one spot on his face to look to assure him that she was listening. She chose to stare at the side of his nose. “An innocent person got hurt tonight.”
 Her vision averted to her lap, and her fingers began to toy at her shoelaces. 
 “What do you mean by hurt? How hurt?”
 “A man got shot. I saw it happen,” he continued, and he swallowed the lump in his throat rubbing it raw. “I couldn’t save him.”
 She could tell by his words and his tone that this man, this poor, innocent man, had died. 
 She shifted where she sat and gazed back up at him, trying to meet his eyes again. Peter blinked and scratched his scalp. She remained silent, allowing him to speak freely and openly. “He wasn’t even involved or anything,” he said, and he glared down at his knuckles, wrapped in the same spandex his suit was made of. “He was across the street, probably just trying to get home, you know? And they just shot him.”
 She grimaced at this and hunched over, resting an elbow on one of her knees, resting her chin on her palm. “Jesus, Peter, I’m sorry,” she murmured, and she meant it. Peter outstretched his fingers and gazed down at them, his eyes tracing the black lines on them. 
 “And it just… god it sucks because I put on this suit thinking about him, I mean, I made it because of him, really,” Peter continued, but she no longer understood what he was talking about. “And now I just feel like I’ve failed him all over again.”
 She blinked. She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the innocent man from the ATM robbery anymore. She didn’t ask him about it. He’d talk about it on his own accord if he really wanted to. 
 He glanced up at her where she sat, staring at him with a sad look. It was funny, how she didn’t understand but understood all the same. It was funny how he felt so comfortable around this girl he just met. It was funny how easy it was to talk to her. It was funny how she listened, how he talked and how she let him talk. It was funny that he wished he had met her sooner. 
 “Sorry,” he tittered, but she shook her head. “No, don’t apologize,” she whispered, but she was unsure why she was whispering. Peter looked up and their eyes met again, and she thought it was funny how much she already cared for him. “Never apologize,” she added. 
 The breeze picked up and she shivered, but she still felt warm all the same. “You know, I used to be scared of the idea of college,” she said, and he stared at her, watched the way her hair framed her face, at the line between her lips, watching the way her smile dropped but was still somewhat there. “I was scared of the people. Of the work. Of the professors. Of everything,” she continued. “I think I still am.”
 She sighed and he watched as her hands grabbed her legs as she leaned back, stretching out her back. “And when I was in high school, I didn’t talk to anyone about it. In fact, I hardly talked at all,” she said. “Because even then, I was scared of people. And of everything.”
 She paused and pursed her lips, searching the bit of floor between them. “I was scared to go to this party tonight too,” she couldn’t help but laugh at herself. This was the first time she’d ever admitted just how scared she was, and it was frightening. But when she looked at Peter, she couldn’t help but feel like it was exciting all the same. “But I did. I went and then I met you.”
 She could see the moment Peter’s eyes softened and she found that she wanted them to be closer, to be as close as possible. “So, it makes me wonder, if this is a beginning,” she murmured, and it occurred to her that Peter wanted what she wanted just the same. He seemed to be closer now than he was before. She didn’t notice when he pushed himself off of his elbow so that now they were on the same eye level. “For both of us.”
 He blinked, and his gaze flickered down from her eyes to her lips. It felt crazy, it was crazy. They just met after all.
 She watched as her name tumbled from his lips, and that was when her heart began to beat even faster, harder than it had before. 
 “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?” He asked, and she could feel the way her arms began to shake. Did he seem even closer now than he was before? 
 “I believe that there are reasons we do the things we do,” she whispered. “Even if we don’t know what those reasons are.”
 He nodded, his eyes flicking down to her lips again. 
 “Yeah,” he murmured breathlessly, and soon, his lips were on hers. 
 It should’ve felt strange, kissing someone she just met. It should feel wrong, gross, humiliating. 
 But it felt everything but. 
 She couldn’t remember the last time she kissed somebody, it must’ve been years ago when she kissed a boy because she was scared of what would happen if she didn’t. She didn’t want to kiss that boy then, so it was different now. 
 Because she definitely wanted to kiss Peter now.
 One of his hands reached to cup her cheek, his palm warm against her skin. His tongue brushed hers, silently asking permission for more, a request in which she granted. Their tongues were like figure skaters, quickly getting into a routine of circling around each other, softly touching. Their kiss was slow, but she saw no reason to rush. They had the whole night ahead of them, and who could have stopped them now?
 They were closer than ever now, giving her the chance to smell him. She could definitely smell sweat, no doubt from what he had just described to her earlier, and of soot and gunpowder. But somewhere in between, she could smell the faint scent of cedar wood, perhaps even a hint of vanilla. It was such a simple smell but still, somehow, undeniably and exclusively him. 
 When they pulled away, it was only to catch their breaths. Peter’s hand remained on her face and she stared into his dark eyes as he, too, stared at her, his lips slightly parted as he chased air back into his lungs. His forehead was resting against hers, his breath hot as it mixed with hers, fanning over either of their faces. 
 For a while, they were silent. All they could do was stare at each other. Years ago, she would’ve been intimidated by something like this, by just the idea of something like this. 
 But now, all she felt was excitement. 
 White hot excitement. 
 “What do we do now?” She asked, and he shook his head, his lips curved up into a soft smile. 
 “I don’t know,” he replied. She pursed her lips. 
 “I don’t want to go home.”
 He shook his head. “Me neither.”
 Her gaze seemed to melt into his, and all she could think was how much she wanted to kiss Peter Parker again. So she did. Her lips snatched his up again in a warm, fierce kiss, kissing him with more fervor than the last. She reached up to wrap her fingers around his wrist, the one connected to the hand still cupping her cheek. Her other hand rested on the back of his neck as they surged into one another, wanting to take this moment and stretch it out, to make it last forever. 
 Peter pulled away and kissed her again, and then he pulled away and trailed his kisses down to her jaw, and she threw her head back, her lips falling agape. Noises she had never heard come out of herself before slipped from her lips, and she held onto him tighter, grinding her hips forward to find him. His hand not on her face smoothed down the side of her body and rested on her hip as he kissed her neck, his tongue licking a sensitive spot there, and she mewled, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. 
 Peter pulled away again and stared up at her, a questioning look in his tender gaze. He shook his head, “we don’t have to do anything, you know,” he said, his chest heaving, out of breath. “We can wait.”
 We can wait. 
 But then she thought, why wait when they had right now?
 So she kissed him again as an answer, and he began to tug at his suit, and she pulled away, suppressing the urge to laugh as he struggled to tug the spandex off of him, at least get it down to his thighs. She helped him, her laughter dissolving in her throat when he finally got it down past his knees, unsure whether she should look away or not when his cock sprang free. 
 She was saved by Peter smashing his lips back into hers, his palms smooth against her skin as they snaked their way beneath her sweater and her bra and she moaned into his mouth when he grabbed her breasts. His skin was by no means completely smooth and baby soft, he had calluses on his palms that felt so much better against her nipples, and she threw her head back as he kissed her neck again. His lips eventually came down to her breasts and he gave one of her erect buds a kiss before sucking on it, letting go of it with a wet pop. He did the same with the other, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. 
 His fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans, and she helped him by kicking them off of her legs, letting him touch her over her underwear in the meantime. 
 She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched like this. 
 It was sooner than the last time she’d just been kissed, in fact, it was only a few months ago at another party her roommate had dragged her to. She remembered being led to a bedroom by some guy she had been chatting to for about the same amount of time she and Peter had talked, and she convinced herself that she had wanted it. 
 How wrong she had been. 
 It was different now, with Peter. She found herself wanting it, even close to begging for it. She found every moment he spent not touching her under her panties excruciating, and when he finally did tug her underwear off of her legs and his fingers soothed over the wet, aching bud, she made noises she never made before. 
 She threw her head back and tried to stifle her cries as he tested the waters, rubbing her throbbing clit over and over again. He even dipped to get a feel of her slit, rubbing over her entrance where his cock ached to be. 
 When she looked back at him, she found that he was already staring at her. It seemed his offer from earlier still stood. 
 We don’t have to do this. We can wait. 
 She was tired of waiting. She was tired of being scared. 
 “Please Peter,” she whispered breathlessly. “Please take me.”
 Peter’s bottom lip wobbled tenderly as he guided her onto his lap and he helped her sink down onto his cock, the pleasure he felt from being squeezed so tight making his toes curl. He watched as the girl above him threw her head back again and her hands slithered around to cup the back of his neck. He watched as her breasts bounced as she ground her hips into him. Peter didn’t move, simply let her ride at whatever pace she desired. His palm pressed against the small of her back, his lips every once and a while pressing soft kisses onto her chest. 
 When she looked back down at him, he smiled. 
 “You’re doing so good,” he murmured. “You feel so good.”
 She didn’t know those words would feel so good, especially coming from him. She was doing good, she felt so good. 
 She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d done any good for anybody. 
 But she was good enough for Peter. And right now, that was all that mattered to her. 
 “Oh, Peter,” she gasped as she ground her hips a little harder, feeling herself squeeze him a little tighter than before. He groaned when she did this, burying his face in the valley between her breasts. “I think… I think I’m gonna come soon.”
 Peter nodded and tried to focus on breathing as she bounced, and he rocked his hips up into her, chasing his own high now. “Yeah. Yeah, me too,” he groaned, and his hand not on the small of her back reached up to cradle the back of her head, and she leaned down, letting her forehead fall down onto his. “We’re going to come together, okay?” He barely managed out, and she barely managed to hear it. But she nodded, the words finally wrapping around her brain. 
 “Yes. Yes.”
 She moved her hips a little harder, a little faster than before. He nodded against her head, and that was when she let herself go, when she gave herself to him, when he gave himself to her. 
 Their sweat-slicked chests heaved against one another. 
 It was strange. Don’t people who fuck after knowing each other as long as they have usually recoil and feel some sort of humiliation at what they had just done, and leave and act like nothing ever happened between them?
 It was strange because it was the exact opposite. 
 She held Peter tighter, his face pressed into her chest. All they could do was hold each other, because neither of them wanted to let go. But when they did eventually pull away, they smiled at one another. 
 “What was that thing you said earlier?” Peter asked. She tilted her head. 
 “About what?”
 “About beginnings?”
 Her smile widened until her teeth unveiled themselves behind her lips. 
 “New beginnings, huh?”
 Peter laughed. “New beginnings.”
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a/n; i literally sat down for three hours straight and did nothing but write. i don’t know how this idea came to my head or what drove me to write it, but i think this is the most proud i’ve been of one of my writings in a very long time. i certainly hope you all enjoy and i thank you if you’ve read from start to finish. <3
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sincericida · 6 hours
I’m glad you published this fanfic, because I did not know her! But I can’t even talk about the lump in my throat that I felt when he confessed that he sought Gwen’s comfort, instead of seeking comfort in the arms of his lover...
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Thick and Thin
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A/N: Okay, I uploaded this once before and it got little to no interaction so I'm trying again after getting quite a few messages with people sharing their love of this fic. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!
Warnings: SMUT. DNI if under 18. 18+ content only.
Word Count: 12.9k+
It was straight out of a sitcom. One of the most famous sitcoms to have ever aired. Trying not to collapse in breathless laughter while holding up an extremely heavy mattress, visions of the scene playing in your head, tears streamed down your face. It was effectively wedged between the sharp turn at your front door and the front door itself. 
Despite your best attempts to shove it through the opening, it was proving futile to even try. Ross Gellar’s voice echoing Pivot! replayed over and over, forcing you to knock your knees together feeling the sudden urge to release from the continuous laughter from you and your closest friend. 
Sliding down the wall just outside your new home, you were wheezing, uncontrollably coughing and trying to catch your breath as she did the same on the other side of the wall. As one of you would finally calm down, the other would scream the phrase and it would happen all over again. 
Clutching your stomach you begged her to stop, needing to breathe in order to continue on, knowing he would be coming upstairs shortly and would need inside the apartment. Everyone always spoke of how terrible moving was. How exhausting it was trudging belongings from one spot to another, trying to organize an entirely new space from scratch, the toll it would take.
Except, that wasn’t the case for you and your little group. At all. The day had already been filled with laughter and excitement, not a single complaint dislodging from anyone. The thrill of a new beginning had you giddy from your early morning wake up. It was a new life you were about to start. 
Doing it with him made it all the better. Finally having a place to call your own was one thing, but being able to share the space with your better half, the person you loved and adored most in the world, was a feeling you couldn’t describe if you had to. It was the start of your future.
The future you two had spent countless minutes, days, and months dreaming and crafting together. It was happening. A majority of your memories were going to be happening here. The big moments, the mundane moments, and everything in between. 
You just needed to get in there first. 
His arms were overloaded with boxes, not caring about the questions your small moving crew were going to ask about how the hell he was able to carry those by himself. Leaning to the side, his beaming smile slightly diminished as he took in your frame sitting on the floor, looking over to the front door and seeing the mattress somehow standing straight up on its side, but sticking completely out of the door, not touching the floor at all. 
Kneeling down and placing the stack of boxes on the floor, his hands went to his hips and then focused his attention on you. His thumb pointed at the bed as his eyebrows shot up, his hand grabbing your outstretched one and pulling you up. “Need some help?” She screamed pivot from the other side of the wall, causing you to hunch back over in laughter as he rolled his eyes.
“Ah, that’s what’s happening. Move chuckles, I got it,” your hand wiped at your tears, watching as Peter lightly laughed, moving the mattress with ease from the precarious spot and moving it inside. 
Going to step over through the front door his worried expression greeted you as he yelled out for you to wait. Placing the bed in your bedroom, he came back to you, an eager smile on his flushed face. Without any hesitation he scooped you into his arms, a surprised yelp leaving you at the motion.
Slapping his shoulder, you shook your head. “No, no, no! You only do this when you’re married,” he shot you an unamused look before setting you back down, motioning with your finger for him to spin around. Hopping onto his back, his hands wedged under your knees, standing and running you two into your new home as laughter flitted from you both.
Running around the small apartment took little to no time before he ran into your room and jumped on the mattress. You caught your breath, eyes slipping closed as a content sigh left your lips. His hand crept onto yours that rested on your torso, linking your fingers together. 
Turning your head to look at him, he was propped up with one arm, peering down at you, eyes shimmering in the light streaming through the uncovered window. Using his free hand, he grabbed the baseball cap that sat on his head and turned it around, the bill facing backwards as he leaned down, capturing your lips against his.
“You like it? I know it’s small-” you cut him off, shaking your head as your smile only grew. “It’s absolutely perfect. It’s ours.” Your hand cradled his jaw, letting him lean in to place another chaste kiss on you before you heard a voice call out to you both from the doorway.
“No, none of that right now! We have an entire moving truck parked at the curb with too much furniture to get into this shoebox. Up!” Your mom's hands clapped at you two to follow her, May right on her heels as they talked about where the bed should go to optimize space.
It was early. Too early for anything, but especially for Peter to be up. His nightstand light was on, but dimmed to the lowest setting. The sun was already starting to peek through the curtains, but it was far too early to be up on a Saturday. 
His feet came padding back from the bathroom, collapsing on the bed with a small whimper leaving his mouth. Rolling over to fully face him, he quickly attached himself to you. “Did I wake you?” The whiny and gravelly tone that came from him had your eyes fully opening to look at him.
“No, I just sensed something was off because you’re up. Spidey sense is rubbing off on me, sticky,” he hummed in response. Something was most definitely off because he didn’t have a smart remark to dish back out to you. Your hand came up, the back of it landing on his forehead and retreating just as quick.
Peter was burning up. “How long have you been feeling crappy?” He sighed, rolling onto his back and flopping his arm over his eyes, a large pout sitting on his plump lips. “All night,” you sat up, throwing the covers off your frame, feeling the cool morning air sitting in the room.
Barefooted patters echoed in the quiet apartment as you made your way to the bathroom to grab Tylenol, Vaporub, a glass of water, and a cool rag. When you reappeared in the room, the only light still being from his nightstand lamp, you saw he had moved around again. 
Your hand went to his lips, pushing the pills through them and putting the glass of water there immediately after. He gulped it down, not realizing hours ago that some water would do him some good. Trying to sit up, your hand pushed back on his forehead to get him to lay back down. 
“Babe. Your fever is out of control. Just lay down,” his moans of protest got louder as you picked up one of his feet, slapped a huge hunk of Vaporub on it, and placed a sock over it, repeating the motion for the other one too. 
Washing your hands and returning to your shared space, he was sprawled out in the middle of the bed. Both arms extended on either side of him, wrap over his eyes, legs spread wide, covers half on him and half thrown onto the floor. You rolled your eyes. 
Didn’t look like you were going to be getting back to bed this morning. Being up before the sun did give you some time to get some chores done that you had been putting off. One load of laundry already in the wash, dishes drying on the disk rack, and still a little time to get a quick stretch in. 
As you started, what was a quiet home only occasionally interrupted with a snore from your partner, was abruptly halted when his whimpers filled the room again. “Buggy!” When you heard his weak voice beckon you to him, you walked into the room, pushing his damp hair from his forehead and lightly rubbing your thumb over the warm skin.
“Hey, sticky boy. How you doing?” He could hardly crack an eye in your direction. Mumbling an incoherent response, rolling away from you with whimpers falling from him, and groaning in pain, you reached over his figure, placing the water in front of his face. 
Turning his head away from you, you started tipping the glass, making it dribble onto his face. “It’ll stop if you just drink it!” You argued with him, hearing him concede and take the glass to stop himself from drowning. Grabbing the bottle of cold medicine you poured the cap full and watched as he drank it and grimaced, overly gagging at the taste. 
He was out within minutes. This was one of the most annoying traits of Peter. You adored the man, loved him more than anything in the world and beyond, but he was the biggest baby when he got sick. Refusing to take medicine, crying and moaning, being completely unable to function on his own.
It drove you mad. It never happened often, only on rare occasions and he would recover quickly, but during it was like fighting an overtired toddler to take a nap. Never listening, doing the opposite of what you would say, pushing you to your limits. 
Look, you get it. When you’re sick, you’re miserable. Truly you are. It just didn’t matter what kind of a cold Peter got, it would knock him on his ass and he would milk it for all it was worth. 
Deep down, you knew it was his way of making you feel bad for him and wanting to spend more time with you. With the opposition of your schedules it was hard. What he failed to realize is that when he was like this, you wanted little to do with him. 
Instead of feeling pity for him, you felt utter annoyance. You could admit though, it was nice when Peter needed you. Given his abilities and who he was, you never really felt like he needed you for anything. Until he was sick.
As you were sitting on the couch, all of these thoughts were rushing through your mind, sighing in defeat at how your heart strings tugged in his direction. Peter needed you. Peter never needed you.
Entering the dimly lit room, your head tilted at the weakened boy sweating through your sheets and comforter. “Hey, sticky.” He peeked an eye open at your towering figure, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you on top of him. 
“Where you been, buggy? I’m so sick, need you,” it was mumbled out, barely coherent, sounding stuffed and exhausted. Your hand rubbed his burning skin, putting your hand to his forehead and noticing the temperature was starting to drop.
“I’m here, babe. I’m here.” 
The front door slammed behind you both as you ignored his voice calling out your name, continuing into the bedroom to get changed. “Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t appreciate him blatantly flirting with you like that. At a work party no less!” Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to fight off the impending headache.
Sucking in a deep breath, you turned to slip your shoes off, placing your jewelry on your nightstand. “For the millionth time, Peter, he was not flirting with me. I don’t know if you think I’m just some-” your brain was running so quickly you tried to settle on a word, “hussy who fawns over all her male coworkers, but that is not me.”
He groaned, large hands enclosing on his face to rub at the skin. “Not once did those words leave my mouth. I would never call you that or even think that. All I’m saying is that you can be overly friendly and men read that wrong.” A humorless laugh fell from you as you shook your head, standing to get out of your dress.
“Okay, so I shouldn’t talk to any man anymore ever because they’re going to read my vibe wrong because apparently I am just galavanting around my office saying, ‘Hey, everyone, I’m friendly, come have sex with me!’, right?” Peter’s hands flew up, looking at you like you were absolutely batshit crazy. 
He leaned down to take his shoes off, muttering under his breath as he did. “Can’t say a thing because-” your head whipped around to face him, craning your neck towards him, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Shaking his head, Peter sat on the edge of the bed, loosening his tie as he did. Walking around your side of the mattress to get to him, he refused to look at you as you approached him. “No, go ahead, Peter. I insist. Do you want me to walk around with a dog collar that says property of Peter? Would that make you feel better? To let men know I’m taken because my word isn’t enough?”
In one beat, Peter had you laid flat on the mattress below him. Your eyes were wide, slightly breathless as you took in his features above you. Both of his hands had your wrists pinned to the bed, the heat of his body resting on yours, your head was swimming. 
His cologne he only wore for special occasions drifted through your nose, making your eyelids flutter as he knelt down towards you. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as his voice spoke into your ear, dropping an octave as his warm breath fanned across the heated skin. “You want me to show everyone you’re mine? I’ll do that for you, baby.”
Barely getting another breath sucked in, he had you flipped, face down on the mattress, hands shoving your dress up around your hips. His large hands caressed your ass, one coming down and eliciting a groan from you as it connected to one cheek, surely leaving a large print there. 
Peter was wasting no time tonight. When he got in moods like this, where he needed to show you who you belonged to. Of course, you knew he didn’t actually believe that, but you couldn’t fight the desire that would burn low in your belly when he acted like this.
The panties you had on, Peter ripped off your hips, leaving the scraps of fabric by your face. When you tried to turn to look at him, eyes going wide at the shredded material, he didn’t let you. One hand came down, shoving your face back into the bed as he shoved into you with one thrust.
A gust of wind expelled from your lungs at the sudden movement. Setting a punishing pace, still having your face mashed with the mattress, you could hardly catch your breath. The obscene noises that echoed through the room you knew were coming from the slick that was dripping down your thighs. 
Standing on the tips of your toes, his pelvis continuously meeting with your ass in a way that you knew would be nothing but bruising. Both of his hands were occupied, one ensuring your posture remained the same, the other holding both of yours bound together, your clit was aching for some friction.
Mumbling like an incoherent idiot, drool dripping down your cheek and chin. “Ba-baby, ple-please,” you were overpowered by your own strong moans, feeling the tip of his cock reach even further in you. His thrust stopped, brushing the messy hair from your face, lightly slapping your cheek to get your attention, speaking in a condescending tone. 
“What, baby? What do you need from me?” When you tried to respond, he released you from the confines of his grasp, turning you over to lay on your back. Your legs instantly closed around his waist, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. His hand firmly gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 
“Words, baby. You need to tell daddy what you want,” clenching around nothing at the word, you whimpered at the harsh grip he held you with. “Rub my clit, daddy. Please, rub my clit,” his smirk grew at your words, thumb applying light pressure to the bundle of nerves.
Small circles were intricately pressed onto your core. Eyes slipping shut at the utter relief that coursed through you, immediately followed by immense pleasure. He leaned down over you, a looming force, a glint in his eye that showed his domineering side was out to play with you tonight. 
“Tell me,” a harsh slap to your clit when you didn’t instantly respond to him. He tsked at your lack of words, moaning instead at the brush of his calloused fingertips dancing on the top of your mound. “Tell me, buggy,” your breath caught in your throat as his fingers coaxed your entrance, replaced by the tip of his cock. 
Choking on your response, eyes slamming shut, you fought a battle within yourself. Stop the teasing and fall into pleasure or let him torture you to see how long you could take it. A bead of sweat trickled down your neck, his tongue catching it and savoring the taste before leaving a chaste kiss in its place. 
A harsh bite followed. “Be a good girl for daddy. Tell him who owns this pretty cunt of yours,” his eyes fell downcast at the mess between your legs. Your greedy hole trying to pull him further in. Anything to relieve the ache that pulsed. 
“Y-you,” his head tilted to the side, ear falling towards your mouth. “Say it again, pretty. Couldn’t hear you,” you fought the urge to slap him and how much he was enjoying this, but swallowed it down, playing into the power trip he craved. 
Batting your eyelashes at him, tears mixing with the makeup as it streamed down your cheeks, you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering your response into it, biting the lobe right after. “I belong to you daddy. Always.” 
Those words set off a wild animal inside of him that didn’t come out often, ensuring that you would be a sore, exhausted heap the next day. Not getting rest until the first streams of light would dance through the curtains, encasing him in a warm god-like glow that he most definitely deserved.
Long nights always seemed to always fade into long days. Today was one of those days. Being bombarded at work with new projects, being pulled from meeting to meeting, not getting a lunch break, not even getting a chance to check your phone until two hours after your original clock out time to see that Peter had already left for patrol. 
On top of that, it was pouring rain. You hated today. All you wanted was your partner's warm embrace and to cuddle while watching tv, but not tonight. No, not tonight. Trekking home, your pants were soaked through as were your feet from the ridiculous amounts of mini lakes that took up every street you walked on. 
Expecting to get home to a warm apartment, shower, and change was not in the cards for you today either. Instead, the cold air from outside clung to your home. Shivering at the freezing temperature, it sounded like it was raining. In the house. 
“Damn it,” you cursed out, thinking there had to have been a leak somewhere. Your search was stopped quickly when you found the culprit. A wide open bedroom window, leading to an entirely flooded bedroom. Running over to the window and slamming it shut, the floor squelched under the weight of your feet.
Grabbing every towel you owned, every article of Peter’s clothing, you laid them all over the floor, trying to soak up some of the liquid. After changing and sitting on your bed, a scowl on your face, you sat. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
The window opened again, a wet Spider-Man entering your home. “Hello, my love!” His mask was removed, a large kiss planted to your cheek, still trying to catch his breath. When his eyes fell downcast, he took in the scene, a bewildered look on his face.
“What happened, bug?” Your eyebrows went up,  thumb pointing to the still open window that he had just crawled through. “Look familiar?” His jaw fell slack, moving to quickly shut the window, moving towards you with an apologetic smile gracing his lips.
Those same lips that kissed an exposed inkling of skin between each sentence spoken. “Buggy girl, I am so sorry,” his lips landed on your forearm. “I am an idiot. The biggest idiot to have ever existed,” another to the crook of your elbow. “Please forgive me.” Finishing on your shoulder, landing on your neck, then your jaw, finally landing on your own lips, you melted into him.
“There she is,” he mumbled against you, a laugh escaping as you pinched his side. “You’re cleaning this all up, okay?” He hummed in agreement, arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer to him.
“Of course,” his gloved clad hands slipped under the fabric of your t-shirt, eliciting a gasp from you. “I just have something to do first.”
Checking each of the boxes that came through the door to see what was labeled what, you pointed in the direction of wherever that room was, sending it and its carrier to the correct spot. With the main bedroom mostly finished, you moved towards the restroom.
Sure, it was small and could hardly fit you and the towel rack, but it was enough. When Peter slinked in behind you, pressed directly into your back, his arms wrapped around you. 
“First aid kit there?” You held it up, shaking it and then placing it under the sink. “Made sure it was the last thing packed and the first thing out,” he kissed behind your ear then on top of your head. “You’re a genius, buggy.” When a loud banging noise came from the living room, you looked at him through the mirror. 
He nodded, instantly knowing what you wanted. “Let me help with that, it can be a bit tricky and slip if you’re not careful,” Peter’s voice rang above everyone else's as he helped your dad lift up the coffee table, placing it in the correct spot.
You smiled to yourself, hearing how well he got along with your parents and best friend. Not that you were ever worried about that, but it was nice. No, you were always worried about other things.
Like getting your superhero boyfriend cleaned up after rough patrol nights.
The crashing noise announced his arrival before he had even fully entered the apartment. You woke up, blinking in the dark to adjust your eyes to see Peter still on the floor. Instantly, you sat up, jumping from the bed and kneeling down with him.
“Peter? Baby, can you look at me?” Panic laced through your words as he finally moved. “Yeah,” he was breathless, pulling the mask from his head, even in the dark you could make out all of the cuts and bruises decorating his face and neck.
You sighed, standing and taking his hand in yours. “I need you to come to the bathroom, baby. I need to work on you in there,” he nodded, groaning as he came to his feet, hunching over as he wrapped an arm around you to be dragged to the bathroom.
Sitting him on the closed toilet lid, the light showed him in a more terrifying matter. He was entirely black and blue, blood dripping from where you weren’t sure. Trying to calm the trembling of your hands down to begin cleaning him up was harder than you would’ve preferred. 
His gloved hand came and grabbed yours, flashing a smile to you. “Go to bed, buggy. I can do this,” you shook your head, grabbing the washcloth to begin wiping the blood away. “No. This is my job, I got this,” the soothing motion of Peter’s thumbs rubbing circles into your hip and the quiet he offered while you worked allowed you to move quickly.
In no time at all he was bandaged up to the best of your abilities. You gave a sleepy smile as you put the items away, feeling his eyes follow your every move. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably would die,” his words became more muffled as he pulled you to straddle his lap, nudging his head into the crook of your neck.
Your fingers wrapped in his long locks, arms landing around his neck as you sat. “I know you would. That’s why I’m here,” his nose brushed against your pulse point, a small groan leaving him as your hips slightly moved.
You shook your head as he slowly lifted you up, speaking quietly, scared that if you spoke any louder it would only further harm him. “Sticky, no, babe. You’re too-” he cut you off with a deep kiss, capturing your bottom lip between both of his. 
He didn’t let you say anything else as he pulled your panties to the side, fully sheathing himself in you at once. You lowered yourself onto his already achingly hard shaft, accepting him in one go. 
It was a reconnecting moment. A chance to show you that he was there, he was alright, and that you were always what he needed to ground him back to the moment. To stop thinking about what was happening in the Spider-Man world. Take notice of what he had here. That was more important to him than anything.
You two climaxed together, feeling his seed leak back out onto him as you fought to catch the shared breath that flew between you both. Lips having not parted once, eyes having remained shut, hands firm on the other to keep calm. 
When you rested your forehead against his sweat ridden one, discolored from the strenuous events he had dealt with all evening, you felt his lips land all over your face. From the tip of your nose, to each eyelid, cheeks, eyebrows, anywhere he could. Anything to show the gratitude he felt when you would wake up in the middle of the night to take care of him.
He would never know what he had done to deserve it. You. Now as you stood, taking his hand in yours, you helped him finish undressing. Climbing into the tiny shower together, his arms wrapped around you from behind, silently clinging to you. Not wanting you to go anywhere as the warm water sprayed away the night from you both. 
The shower head plunged your body in scorching water, pummeling against your head. Washing away the work day and allowing you to relax. Your partner was in the kitchen currently making you dinner, you had a new book to dive into tonight, it was going to be a great night.
Until you opened your eyes. 
An ear shattering scream left your mouth, in your attempt to back up and away from it, you nearly slipped. The bathroom door flew open, crashing into the wall behind it. The shower curtain was ripped open, Peter’s eyes wild with worry. 
Immediately grabbing him, dripping wet frame, you didn’t care. You just had to get away from it. “Bug, what’s going on?” His hands searched you for any signs of injury, but when he realized you weren’t hurt, his eyes followed your pointed hand.
“It’s up there!”
His head fell forward, laughing as he nodded. “Alright, alright. I got it,” he stood on the lip of the tub, hands enclosing around the spider, and making sure to keep it away from you, exiting the bathroom to release it.
Within a minute he was back, washing his hands in front of you to ease your anxiety. Still standing outside of the shower, your trembling frame was hesitant. Peter eyed you, a small smirk on his lips. “You good, babe?” 
Nodding, he could tell you weren’t being honest. He moved towards you, a small sigh leaving him. “Would you like me to shower with you so you’re not alone in there?” You nodded, waiting for him to undress and get in.
“You first,” he stepped in, turning towards you and helping you back into the warm spray of water. Handing you the removable shower head, Peter pulled you into his grasp. “Always my damsel in distress.” 
Your elbow popped back, connecting with his ribs as your lips set into a pout. “Shut up. I am not.” His fingers attacked your sides, shooting laughter into the enclosed space.
Speechless. Entirely and utterly speechless. You were standing in the kitchen, the box sat on the countertop, your parents all beaming at you two. “How? Why?” Was all you could mutter out. Your mom shrugged with a chuckle. 
“Those pots and pans you bought were garbage. You would’ve had to replace them within a few months. These will last you a lifetime. Really, they come with that warranty.” The Caraway sets had you unable to move.
After seeing everyone on TikTok rave about these and why they were worth the insane splurge, you didn’t realize you had spoken about them so much and so often that your families would’ve noticed and bought them for you guys as a moving in present. 
The creamy white was immaculate and the stainless steel handle felt cool in your hand. You could’ve collapsed right then and there. Eyes fluttering shut, you weren’t sure what to do. 
“It’s a gift from all of us.” Setting the pan down as gently as you could, you rushed over to pull Aunt May and your parents into a bone crushing group hug. Peter’s laugh echoed behind you as he picked up the pan, spinning it in his hand with an unimpressed look on his face. 
“I just don’t get it.”
It was what you kept repeating over and over in your head. You just didn’t get it. This project had been sitting on your desk for weeks, untouched because you just couldn’t figure it out. It was getting on your absolute last nerve. 
You were losing sleep over it, wasting your entire workday by simply staring at it. Unsure what your next move was supposed to be. It was turning you into a zombie. Consuming your thoughts, hardly able to focus on anything else. 
It had simply been a shitty day. A shitty week. A shitty month. All stacked on top of each other and to make matters worse, you and Peter were fighting. Over what, you had no idea, but all you knew was that you two were in a stalemate. No one willing to budge on their position to just smooth it over. 
Days on end of the same bitter attitudes. Was it your fault? More than likely given how stressed you had been at work, but you really did not have the mental capacity to accept blame and truly apologize. 
Entering your home, you had hoped he was going to already be gone for the night. Instead, he was standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner for himself. Which was fine, you weren’t really in the mood to eat too much anyways. 
His back faced you the entire time, never turning towards you, not acknowledging you. It was fine. You didn’t want to talk anyways. Emerging from your room, changed into your lounge clothes, you were pissed to find a stain that had been washed in, now permanently there. 
Moving around the space, trying not to look his way, you grabbed a bowl and a spoon. Fetching the only cereal you had in the house at the moment and the milk from the fridge, you poured yourself a bowl. 
He was watching you from the corner of his eye. Despite how mad at you he was, he had to make sure you were okay. That you were still functioning to some degree, knowing what was happening at work right now. To him, it looked like you were on autopilot. Simply coasting to do what your body needed, but seeing your brain still functioning on overdrive. 
Picking up your spoon, you turned to grab a napkin from the counter behind you and in the process you knocked over the gallon of milk. The white contents dripped all over the counter and onto the floor. You didn’t react right away, instead just staring at the mess.
Peter literally had to fight the urge to grab it while it was falling. His mind told him that it would feel better to see you cleaning up the mess you had made. That it was what you deserved after your fight. Did it make sense? Absolutely not, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was for you to feel as irritated and peeved as him. 
What he didn't expect to see was you crumpling to the floor into the puddle of milk, sobs echoing in the room. The bowl had tumbled from your hands shattering on the floor as you went down. Cereal and porcelain mixing together.  
You didn’t really know what happened. One second you were going for a napkin and the next the contents of it all were all over the counter and floor. Too much to handle at once, your body and brain begging for a break. The cries wracked your body, trembling and shaking as you cried. 
The saying goes, don’t cry over spilt milk, but that was exactly what you were doing. Just one thing too many, something was going to have to cascade over at some point. Tonight, it was the milk. Your emotional bank having to withdraw something in order to keep functioning. 
At first, Peter thought you had gotten hurt somehow. The realization dawned on him that it was all emotional, no physical pain or injury that he could immediately see. Your tear soaked face met his as he crouched down to your level, throwing yourself on him. 
Honestly, he was going for the bowls broken and jagged pieces, but he let you wrap yourself in him. His own arms enclosed around you, hands rubbing your back as he stood you two up. You clung to him as he stood. He picked you up with him, letting you place your legs around his waist. 
“Sticky, I’m sorry,” your words hiccuped in the shell of his ear, guilt wracking his body at your apology. “I know, bug, I know.” One of his hands cradled the back of your head, gently moving across the floor to not step in any of the shards. Setting you on the counter, his hands landed on the tops of your thighs as your cries slowly stopped.
Moving them to cup your cheeks, his own thumbs wiping away the stray tears, your breathing trying to even out, he offered a small smile. “I’m-I’m sorry, bu-bug,” your lips were swollen from crying, your nose running and stuffed. You were tripping over your own words, them getting caught in your throat. 
He brought your head closer to him, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, your own hands grabbing his wrists, as you started crying again. “You’re alright, buggy girl. I’m sorry. How about I take you to the room, you get changed, and I’ll bring you some toast, yeah?”
You nodded, sniffling as your vision remained blurry. Your hand moved from his wrist to his cheek, a large pout sitting on your lips as you touched his face for the first time in four days. There was nothing worse than fighting with him. Given how stubborn you two were, it was always a recipe for disaster when it came to spats.
“I love you,” you murmured out, watching as his smile took over his face. “I love you, too. How about once you get changed I do something for you?” Hopping off the counter and emerging from your room in a fresh set of clothes, Peter cupped your face in his hands, bringing you to him for the first time all week.
When he pulled back, his smile was still persistent despite your constant stream of tears. “Wanna be Spider-Man?” A wet laugh escaped your throat as he handed you the mask and a web shooter in his open palm. 
Slipping it on, the baggy material hung on you as he fixed the web shooter to your wrist. He crouched in front of you, letting you hop on his back as he charged out of the kitchen, running around the small space, allowing you to be Spider-Man. Even for just a bit.
Anything to make you feel better.  
“No, that is not what happened, May!” Your stomach ached from the laughter that had been happening all evening. Tears were steadily falling from the corners of your eyes as May told a story about Peter eating a quarter as a child for a magic trick then having a meltdown because Ben had told him it had to come back out someway.
Peter’s face was beat red in embarrassment, the candlelight that lit the room not doing enough to cover the tint. It was the first dinner party you had hosted. Every month was a different place. Sometimes it was held at May’s, other times at your parent’s, your best friend’s apartment, Peter’s best friend’s apartment, or your brother’s place. 
This was the first time you had been able to host, finally settled into the apartment and after having found a few tables that you could squish together for the night, you were ready. Having planned a wonderful menu, moving all the furniture to make space, and ensuring there were enough chairs it was exactly what you had hoped.
Standing from your chair to head back to the kitchen and grab another bottle of wine, Peter stood with you, following you into the room. Offering a small, entertained smirk in his direction, his arms caged you in, pinning you to the counter as you joked. “Did the quarter ever come back?”
Rolling his eyes at your question that had you doubling over in laughter, you felt his lips capture yours, having you stand back upright. Your giggles bled into his mouth, the sheer thought of Peter as a child, swallowing a quarter, then promptly bursting into tears afterwards was delighting you. 
Pulling back, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Think that’s funny? Huh, do you?” His own chuckles mixed with his words, you nodding almost out of breath again. Shrugging, his shit eating smirk took over his lips as he sighed overdramatically. 
“Okay, then. Here’s another magic trick for you,” you barely even blinked before the thwip of webs echoed out into the room, the bottle you had been holding now resting soundly in his hand. You on the other hand were webbed to the counter. 
He smiled brightly, a light laugh following. “Now, for the trick. Watch as I disappear!” The door to the kitchen closed as he slipped through it despite your shocked laughter and whisper shouting his name. 
Standing there in disbelief, starting to try and free yourself from the confines of the webbing, the door opened again. You stood up straight, acting like you were working on dishes, but you relaxed when you saw Peter enter the kitchen again.
“Like I would leave my damsel in distress,” groaning, you rolled your eyes at the persona you despised. “I am not-” he cut you off, solely focusing on getting you free as he spoke with you in unison, “a damsel and I am not in distress.” 
You were biting back a smile at that, smacking his chest when the kitchen door swung open again. “Sweetheart, I asked you for a new knife like an hour ago,” Peter stood up straight covering the webs that decorated your hip and the counter. 
Her gaze fell to you two, eyeing you both in suspicion. “Everything okay in here?” You nodded, looking back at the counter that she couldn’t see. “Oh yeah, we’re just getting more bread. We’ll be out in a sec,” she turned on her heel, watching you both in curiosity as you both beamed back at her.
When the door closed, you both focused back to the mess. “Hurry!” His nimble fingers worked fast, giggling as he worked. “I’m trying! Stop moving, you’re making it worse!” You both were giggling like madmen and although your mom couldn’t see what you two were laughing at, she smiled.
Peeking in through the crack, just to make sure you were actually okay, and seeing your head fall back as Peter said something she couldn’t quite make out, but hearing your laughter mix with his. 
Nights like these made your heart soar. When everyone was good. When everyone was okay. It was these nights that you would look back on in pure admiration and yearning. For a time that you weren’t sure would happen again.
As you and Peter stood in the kitchen in utter silence, waiting for the phone to ring, you thought back to those nights. Wondering if it would ever happen again. Waiting to hear that everything was alright. That your brother was going to be fine. He had to be fine. He was going to be fine.
Getting a call early that morning from your mom had changed the trajectory of your day. Arriving at work at your normal time, 8:03 am, sitting in your chair, turning your computer on, unpacking your bag. It was regular. Supposed to be like every other day.
You were going to get through your work day, get home at 4:25 that afternoon, make dinner with Peter, he leaves for patrol once the sun goes down, and you spend the rest of the evening watching tv and reading. A normal day.
The phone call at 8:07 that morning threw that all off. Your dad told you that your mom was on a plane to California. That they had gotten news early that morning that your brother had been hit by a drunk driver just hours before. Trying to listen as he told you the latest update on him.
That had been twelve hours ago. Peter didn’t go on patrol that night. You didn’t make dinner together. You ate a bagel that Peter made for you. Only half, him polishing off the other. Sitting at the island with a chair, staring at your screen, waiting for it to light up. 
They had been able to hold off on the surgery he needed until your mom got there. That had been five hours ago. Now, you sat waiting. Peter was there the entire time. Knocking knees with you, reading to you, asking for your help with sewing his suit. You had no idea how to sew, but Peter showed you how to that night. 
One of the only breaks you had taken that day was the first time you had left the kitchen since getting home. Leaving the restroom, Peter’s loud voice boomed into the apartment, calling out to you. Running into the kitchen and snatching your phone, you immediately answered.
It was like the largest weight you had ever felt being taken from your shoulders. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, a large smile coming across your features as Peter stood, patiently waiting. Hanging up the call with your mom, you turned to face him. 
“He’s okay. Great, actually. They said as soon as he was out of surgery he was cracking jokes with the nurses. He’s okay,” Peter’s arms swept you into his embrace as you silently cried into his shoulder. That was your partner.
The man who would drop anything at the drop of a hat to ensure he was going to be there for you when you needed him most. Who would make sure that you were okay. That you were better than okay. That you were the happiest you could be. 
He had made that mistake before with someone else and he knew better this time around. He wanted to be the best he could be for you. It was the single most important thing to him. Your utter happiness.
Flopping onto the couch that sat in the empty living room, a loud groan escaping your throat as you did, you could feel the exhaustion of the day seeping into your bones. The sun was already setting below the horizon, dashing in between the various large buildings on either side of your own apartment building. The truck had been unpacked and returned. The entire family gone, leaving you alone in the apartment for the first time.
His head poked out of the door frame from the kitchen, eyes observing you to make sure you were still alive and kicking after the incredibly long day you had just endured. A soft smile played at his lips as he saw you on the verge of sleep on the sofa, sprawled out with no space for him to join.
He would make space. 
You didn’t even realize you had shut your eyes, letting the sleep overtake you until you felt arms wrap around you, pulling you up and flipping you. Instead of sinking your weight into the soft and fluffy material of the couch, warmth greeted you and circled around you.
Not even bothering to peek an eye open, you fully relaxed into him, inhaling the cologne that hung to his dirty shirt that normally you would have protested against laying on, but tonight you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
The security and comfort he offered with just a single embrace was unmatched, unparalleled. It was the feeling of his calloused palms rubbing against the bare expanse of your arm, occasionally slipping under your shirt to gently run his fingertips along your lower back that let you know it was him. That he was going to be here. That this was now your home. That he would do whatever he needed to to ensure that this would remain your home. Your safe space. Your haven. 
The warmth that expelled from you, the gentle rise and fall of your back as your head rested on his chest, the occasional twitch as you fell further into sleep's grasp, was Peter’s anchor. It was your way of letting him know that you would always be there for him. To comfort, to protect, to do anything you could for him.
God knows he would need it. It was what nagged at him. The small voice in the back of his head that would make an appearance once in a blue moon. Peter knew at some point, somewhere down the line something was going to happen. Something that would wreck him, destroy him. Something that you would have to pick up the pieces for, to make him whole again. He didn’t want it to happen. Who would? 
But it would happen. And when it does, you would be there. That was your promise. No matter what.
It had been on the news. You couldn’t believe they aired it. Happening live, no one knew it would happen. Spider-Man was there to save the day and make it all better like he always did. Except today. 
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save everyone. 
This was a conversation that had happened many times before. Getting him to understand that despite his best efforts, there was going to come a day where it would happen. 
You just didn’t expect today to be that day.
Pacing around the living room, gnawing on your thumb nail, waiting. Simply waiting for him to finally come home. He needed to come home. 
You had turned the news off over two hours ago, unable to hear them talk about it again. Instead, a silly comedy played on the television. Something to dull the screaming voices in your head. The same voices that were at odds with each other. Did you need to go find him or just wait for him to come back?
Two hours, going on three, and then four was too long. Too long to be waiting for him to come home. Slipping your shoes and coat on, you took matters into your own hands. Grabbing your house key and phone, you made your way to the front door.
If he wasn’t going to come home then you were going to go to him. Where was he? You didn’t have the slightest idea, but you would find him. As soon as you pulled the front door open, a dull thud came from behind you. 
Whipping around, you saw him standing there, Spider-Man garb forgotten and dressed in regular clothes, he looked exhausted. Letting the door close, you turned and made your way towards him. 
“Hey, sticky,” it was spoken as quietly as you could manage. This was uncharted territory between you two, unsure how he was going to act and respond. Anything could have happened, he could have responded in any possible way.
This was not what you expected.
A large smile spread across his face, his cheery attitude partnered with it. He crossed the space, enclosing you in his arms and placing a large kiss on your lips. It shocked you. Out of everything that could have been his emotions and feelings, the cheerful and joyous man that was standing in your living room was not what you expected. Had prepared for. 
Your worried facial expression traced him as he walked through the apartment towards the kitchen, coming back just a second later with a bowl of cereal in his hands. “How was your day, baby? Did you get that project done? I know you had that presentation, too.” 
He was speaking in between mouthfuls of his bites, collapsing on the couch and lifting one arm to rest on the back, beckoning you to him. Confused, but continuing to tread lightly, you gingerly sat next to him, feeling his arm pull you into his side, a kiss landing on your temple. 
The remainder of the night continued in that nature. Like nothing had happened. Staying on the couch watching television, Peter demolishing the remainder of the cereal you had in the apartment, and then going to bed together after he showered.
Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to think twice about, nothing abnormal. Which is why you were so worried. 
In the blink of an eye, nearly three weeks had passed since the accident. Peter hadn’t displayed any emotion regarding it at all. You were entirely unsure what to do. Would bringing it up be beneficial? He hadn’t brought it up and you didn’t want to if he didn’t want to talk about it.
Maybe he had already dealt with it and you just weren’t a part of the process. Sure, it was a bit hurtful, but if he handled it, then that was better than nothing. 
When four weeks were approaching with Peter not having made a peep about it, you exploded. Sitting on the couch, watching as he discussed what was going to be happening for dinner and what you wanted to do this weekend, carrying on like nothing was wrong.
“Peter?” He hummed, sliding the sock onto his foot, the other between his teeth. When you didn’t respond right away, his eyes darted up to yours, seeing them narrowed in his direction. Irritation and anger was rolling from your figure and into the aura of the room. “Buggy?”
Shaking your head at him, your chin resting on your closed fist, you exhaled a large breath you had been holding in for nearly a month. “Are you okay?” His eyes widened in surprise, a laugh falling from his throat. Nodding in response, he shrugged, still confused as to why you were seemingly so upset.
“I’m alright. Are you okay?” You shrugged, picking the fuzz from the couch. “Honestly, I don’t know.” Peter walked over to where you were seated on the couch, trying to catch your line of vision as your gaze continued staring at the couch cushion. “Baby? What’s going on?”
Sighing, letting your eyes fall onto him, he had a true look of worry on his features. “Peter, you-I just,” you were stumbling over your words trying to figure out how to piece this together in the correct way to truly display how you were feeling.
“Peter, a child died a month ago while you were trying to save him and you couldn’t. You disappeared that night for hours, when you got home it was like nothing had happened. I keep waiting for you, or for something to happen. Like you’re going to break or something and it’s like you’re totally fine.
“If you are, that’s okay. If you worked through it in some way without me that night, that’s okay, too, but I need to hear you say that you’re okay.” When your eyes fell back to him a blank expression sat on his face. Any emotion he had been feeling, gone. His jaw was set, teeth grinding together, but his head dropped. 
His hand swiped at his nose, a small sniffle following before he nodded. “I’m fine.” You shook your head, reaching for his hand as he stood. “No, you’re not.” He ripped his hand from yours, a humorless laugh fell from his lips, hands landing on his hips. “Don’t tell me how I’m feeling.”
You shook your head, as you went to speak again Peter spoke up over you. “In fact, there’s a reason why I haven’t talked to you about this. Because I don’t need to. I am fine. I have dealt with this in my own way. Don’t bring it up again.” Brows furrowing at the tone he was speaking to you in, you were taken aback, but were overpowered by the disrespect you felt.
“No. We’re not dropping it. I don't appreciate how you’re talking to me, Peter. I want you to tell me how you dealt with this,” his hands scrubbed at his face, a bewildered expression taking over his eyes. “You don’t need to know. That’s what I’m leaving this at.” 
Following him and blocking his way from going back into the kitchen, you peered up at him, anger still prevalent in both of you. “No.” His hair fell into his eyes lightly as his tongue darted out and ran along his bottom lip, hand rubbing harshly at his jaw. 
“Yes. Move.” Your arms crossed over your chest. “Not until you tell me how you did this.” It carried on that way for a few minutes before Peter jumped to the ceiling and tried crawling behind you to get passed, but you moved too quickly, blocking any access points for him to leave. 
“Peter, knock it off! Just fucking tell me. What the fuck did you do? Is it that bad that you can’t tell me?” You were shouting, mind reeling at all of the possibilities of what he could have done, but when he yelled back, you stopped, staying rooted to your spot. 
“I fucking went to Gwen! There, is that what you wanted to happen? Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy?” He tried catching his breath, immediately calming down as he saw your reaction. Tears welled in your eyes, you nodded with a sniffle, chin wobbling as you stared at the far wall.
What you had assumed was just Peter bottling up all of his emotions and hiding from dealing with the situation is what you would have preferred than to what he had just told you. “Bug,” his voice was small, but echoed into the quiet room. Your hand came up to stop him from moving any closer to you. 
You turned to face him, finding it entirely too difficult to even look directly at him. “Fuck you.” The seething disdain that accompanied those words, really drove it into him how much he had hurt you. Turning on your heel and going into your room, you grabbed the pillow and blanket, throwing them back into the living room and onto the couch.
Peter’s eyes fell down as he went to grab it and set up what would be his makeshift bed. You snatched it from his grasp before he could reach it, shaking your head. “No. It’s mine. I refuse to sleep in that bed. Not with you.” 
Shaking your head, a decision made in a flash, you felt hot tears streaming down your cheeks. “Actually, no.” Walking over to the small entryway table and grabbing your bag, slipping your shoes and coat on, you went to the front door. 
When you turned and looked at him, you could see the disappointment and regret living on his face. He knew it was wrong and that was exactly why he had kept it from you for so long. “Do not speak to me. Do not speak to any of my family. I can’t even stand the sight of you right now. Do not even try,” you could see him crumbling as you spoke. 
Truly, you had no idea of where you were going to go, but anywhere was better than there. In the fortress of a life you had constructed with him by your side. It felt like it had been tarnished, made of only a facade. Nothing true. In the worst moment of need in his life, instead of turning to the woman he had sworn to craft a life with, he went back to who he had been with before. 
It was the worst pain you had ever endured. Wondering if there was something wrong with you. Why you weren’t good enough for him. How he opted to neglect you and your relationship in that way. The stinging sensation of remorse filled your being. Your world was crashing down around you. 
He didn’t listen to you. Instead of leaving you alone like how you demanded, you were constantly bombarded with calls and text messages, asking when you were coming home to figure this out. Home. 
A singular word that you felt had been built on a set of lies. That he was never ready to move past her. That things with you had just spiraled out of control and he didn’t know how to stop it. When in times of true crisis he would always revert back to her, not you. Not being to him what you had thought. Never having held a single doubt about your relationship together until this moment, but now had you questioning everything. All of it.
Nothing felt real anymore. 
A full week had gone by since you had seen or spoken to Peter. Having chosen to stay with your parents, not letting them in on what was actually happening. Just that you needed some space. Some time. 
When flowers arrived at your childhood bedroom door, you stared at the vase full of an apology bouquet. Your mom thought it was the sweetest thing in the world. That even though things were bad right now that he was still doing this for you. 
A knowing feeling wormed its way into your gut, telling you that he was watching. Somewhere he was spying. To see if you liked them. 
Grabbing the vase and walking outside, you lifted the dumpster lid, tossing the perfectly fine arrangement in the trash. Slamming the lid down, you slinked back into your parents home, your mom deadly silent as you walked by.
Questions were swimming in her head and you knew it. Choosing to answer in one fellow swoop of a response you spoke out. “Flowers can’t fix this,” voice raw from the shed tears over the last week, it sounded foreign to your own ears. 
Having had enough of sitting in your room, you needed answers. Instead of going to where you knew he waited with baited breath for you, you went elsewhere. The brick home greeted your vision as you strolled to the residence in Queens. Stepping up to the door, you lightly knocked. 
Aunt May answered in record speed with a large expulsion of air. “Thank god you’re alright. Peter told me you haven’t spoken in nearly two weeks.” Stepping into the warm embrace of the home, you followed her into the living room. 
As she sat with you, you turned and looked at her with tears brimming in your eyes. “I have to ask you a question and I need you to be as honest as you possibly can, okay?” She didn’t like where this was going, taking your hand in her own as she waited to hear what you were going to say next.
“Does Peter love me?” Her jaw fell slack, staring at you in awe. Shocked at how serious you were to even be asking this, tears silently cascading down your cheeks as you hiccuped. “Oh my-honey, of course he does!”
Shrugging, you shook your head. “Just not as much as Gwen, right?” At the mention of her name, May stiffened like a board. “What did he do? You tell me right now or so help me I wi-”cutting her off with a sad smile, you patted her hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
It was the answer you needed. You took your time going back to your shared apartment that night. Taking the scenic route, not wanting to rush into this. 
When you opened the door, took your shoes off, and stared at the empty apartment, sadness creeped into you. The home that you two had built, sitting nearly deserted and alone. You sat on your side of the couch, flipped the television on, and sat and waited. 
Hours had ticked by, mindlessly watching the screen, not remembering anything of what you had seen. When the window opened to your right, you didn’t turn to look at him. Didn’t want to really see him. 
Nearly falling over where he stood, his mask was ripped off his frame, staring a hole into the side of your face. “You-you’re back,” it was spoken out in utter shock, you only briefly nodded in response. 
“Not permanently.” Silence. He quickly entered the bedroom and re-emerged dressed in normal attire. Sitting on the coffee table, facing you, waiting for you to say something. 
You waited. Waited for the nine minutes that were left on the air time of the show. He could wait. Like how he had made you wait all of that time after the incident. To see if you were an actual part of his life. A functioning part. 
When the end credits rolled, you let out a soft sigh and shut the tv off. He didn’t push. Sitting patiently, awaiting anything you were going to say and do. 
“I came back to talk.” He nodded, elbows leaning on his knees, fingers linked together. “You showed me everything I needed to know. About where we are. Where we’re going. How we were doing. Obviously not as good as I had thought, but that’s fine.”
He wanted to fight you, but knew better than to speak over you. Not right now. “It’s blaringly obvious that you will never quite love me like how you did or do Gwen.” You hoped you weren’t going to cry, but as the words left your mouth, it hit you like a ton of bricks. 
Tears silently left their tracks on your cheeks, staining the skin with their traces as your eyes were downcast. Taking in a deep breath you continued on without a moment of hesitation for him to interrupt. “It kills me. I feel like I’ve given my all, showed you in every possible way that I am your person. That I am here. I thought I was what you needed, but now I can honestly say I don’t know if that’s true.”
Hiccuping through the tears, trying to get your points across, Peter stood from the coffee table and crossed the room with his back to you. His hand landed on the top of his head, tugging on the hair before landing on his hips. A sniffle echoed out in the quiet room as he turned back to face you.
“What-what can I do? I love you. More than I can even describe and I made a mistake. A massive mistake that I can’t take back. Baby, you gotta tell me what to do to fix this.” By the time he had finished he was back in front of you, crouched and taking your cold hands into his warm ones.
Your eyes shut, not wanting to see his skin touching yours, but savoring the feeling of it. “Tell me the truth. About it all.” Your tear filled eyes met his and he nodded with a small shaky exhale of breath. 
Removing his hands from yours he rubbed his face before starting, trembling hands coming back to enclose around yours with no fight from the receiving end. “You have to know that I have no feelings for her. Hardly even a friendship, but she was there at the start of it all. When it happened, I-I couldn't come back to you in the state I was. I couldn’t let you see me like that, bug.”
Your brows furrowed at his words, face scrunching up in disbelief. “That makes no sense, Peter.” You weren’t buying it. He was watching you slip further and further away. “I’m supposed to be the rock. The unmovable force that can weather any storm. When-when it happened, I was-wasn’t able to get control of myself.
It was the worst state I had ever been in. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I couldn’t let you. Baby, you’re my everything and I thought I was protecting you.” As he continued to talk, tears fell from both of your eyes, his hands roamed the bare expanse of skin under his palms, trying to soothe you whilst you both shattered before one another. 
“It was such a mistake. I regretted it the moment I saw you, bug. I’m so sorry,” your sob caught in your throat, letting him drop his head, kissing a trail up your arms to your neck where he stayed, tears pooling on the skin. “I’m so mad at you, Peter. I’m mad at myself for-for making you think that you couldn’t come to me. I don’t know what else I could’ve done to show you that!”
The tone of your voice lifted with confusion, a small shout escaping you as the emotions overflowed. His shaking head was him trying to show that it wasn’t you. Despite everything it wasn’t you. 
“It’s me. I had this connotation in my head that I couldn’t show you that side. I knew you had always told me that when it eventually happened that you would be there. In my head it was never going to happen and when it did, I didn’t want to show you that I was weak in any way. For god’s sake I’m fucking Spider-Man,” your hands cupped his cheeks, peering into the pooling irises that had bloodshot veins surrounding them. 
Swirled with pain and anger. Not at you, but at himself for not knowing what to do. For allowing any sense of weakness to happen and never wanting to have shown you that he could break. In his eyes, he couldn’t. Not for you.
“You’re Peter Parker most importantly! A human man who is my partner. I am so sorry if I’ve put these-these pressures on you to make you think that you can only be strong around me, but that is not a partnership. I-I want you to be vulnerable and show me everything there is with you. I love you, Peter. You. Come. To. Me.” 
As you finished, he launched himself at you. It had been weeks apart, questioning everything, and although there was still much to figure out in the hours and days ahead, at this moment it didn’t matter. When you had him against you once more, in a messy and miserable way, desperate to have your other half with you again. 
Through thick and thin, for better or worse, these were the promises you had made to one another that you knew you two would honor for as long as you had with him by your side. Even when you two were at your lowest, it didn’t matter. It was you two. 
Christmas had come so quickly this year. A year of immense struggle between you two. Where Spider-Man had taken over your lives, so much to the point where he couldn’t work. One income to support both of you with occasional photographs sold to the Daily Bugle. It had been rough. 
Exhaustion sat deep in both of your bones. Peter’s face was bruised more often than not. Constantly on the mend after dealing with issue after issue. You taking on as much work as you possibly could to make ends meet. It killed him seeing you doing this, even trying to take on a second job. 
But for the greater good, this is just how it had to be. For a bit. 
Agreeing this year that no gifts would be for the best, just spending time with one another, having a great dinner and watching Christmas films all day long. It was going to be great. 
And it was. You two had a wonderful day, enjoyed a delicious dinner that you cooked together, even spent some time on the phone with family and friends. Now, you two were lounging on the sofa, snuggled under a blanket, sipping hot chocolate and enjoying Elf. 
Peter was acting jumpy and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you just couldn’t. Giggles flew from you as you poked his side, seeing the smirk take over his face at your actions. “Alright, Parker, I’m biting. What’s going on with you?” In no time at all, he jumped from the couch. 
Returning from the bedroom, both of his arms were behind him as he ventured back out to where you sat. “Peter,” you took a beat, staring him down as he sat back on the couch, arms still behind him, “what do you have?” 
His nonchalant shrug as his attention focused back on the television gave you time to jump him. Your laughter mixed as he moved his arms to keep whatever it was in his hands out of your reach, pulling it around your body, above your head, back behind his back, just enjoying the true struggle you put up. 
When he finally decided you had enough, straddling his waist, your eyes grew misty as the tiny gift bag sat in front of your face. “Merry Christmas, my buggy girl.” Pouting, you lightly grabbed the red bad from his hands, dropping it onto his stomach as you stared down at him. 
“Pete, I-I didn’t get you anything,” he cut you off, putting the gift bag in your hands. “Shh, I know you didn’t and I didn’t want you to. You’ve done so much for us this past year, I needed to show you some sort of appreciation.” 
Sniffling, you pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, seeing a small jewelry gift box sitting at the bottom. Your hands reached in, feeling the soft box, pulling it out and quickly peeking back at the boy. He looked like a child on Christmas morning. It warmed your soul. Knowing that he wanted to do this for you one way or another. 
When you removed the top, a small gasp fell from your lips, eyes welling up again as you took in the earrings. There sat a pair of earrings, books, that had the title of your favorite book on them. It was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given you before. 
He lightly nudged you with his knee, causing you to bounce ever so slightly as you tried to peel your eyes away from the gift. “You like them? I found someone on that website you like so much. If not we can always return them and get you some-” you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck, smushing your mouth to his.
Feeling his laughter seep into you, shaking your bodies as he did, hands splayed across your back as he held you to him. “They’re amazing, sticky. Really, they’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I love you so much.” His hands moved from your back to your face, wiping away the tears. 
While nights like that made you realize how much you loved your partner and reminded you that no matter what you two would be there for each other, it was the average nights that had you in total bliss.
The nights when it was just you two, living your daily life, sharing the space of your person. Where you were sat on the couch, reading a novel that you had seen on social media, but despite the raving reviews you just couldn’t get into it. Peter sat opposite of you, reading some book on physics that you would never be able to understand no matter how much he tried to explain it to you. 
Deciding that you wanted his attention, you let out a sigh. Peeking over the cover of your book, you saw he hadn’t diverted his attention at all. Going again, this time just a tad louder than the last, his eyes briefly left his own text to glance at you. Ensure you are okay.
When he noticed that you were fine, he continued on. Another, louder sigh escaped your lips, head falling back, but Peter continued to ignore you. Having had enough of it, you crawled over to him, pushing down his book to get his attention to you. 
“Pay attention to me,” he rolled his eyes, closing the book and setting it on the coffee table next to you. His hands found home on your waist as you straddled him. Instantly crouching down to meet him, his warm palms slipped under your shirt, greeted by the smooth skin underneath. 
Deepening the kiss, you moaned as his hands continued their northern travels, cupping the supple flesh and tweaking your perked nipples. Slow and lazy were the kisses shared, movements basic and comforting, nothing extravagant and perplexing. Home. 
Breaths shallow and constant, naked against one another, riding him like it was your second job. Admiring you like the most magnificent species of woman he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. Captivated by your utter beauty. Eyelids so heavy they could hardly remain open to see who laid beneath you, but you knew the feel of him like it was your second skin.
Hands braced on his chest, chasing your highs, feeling the pull of you to him, your mouths met once again as they slowly washed over you. Nothing so intense that you couldn’t come to mere seconds later, but simply a release for both to enjoy tonight.
These were the nights you adored with him. You could only hope for a lifetime of them together. 
Plopping down on the couch with your still far too dirty clothes, boxes stacked as high as the ceiling surrounding you both, you felt the tiredness sitting deep in your bones. You had tried making a dent on them while Peter ran out to grab dinner, but you still had mountains to go.
Hearing the door open, you peeked around the corner to see him making his way in, french fry hanging out of his mouth, hat barely sitting on top of his head, hair a wild mess underneath. “Okay, I figured that since this is our first night here we needed to get something in the area. You know, start trying out the places.” 
Humming in response as he took his seat next to you, one large hand landing on your leg as he did, he showed you the takeout bag. “Burger #12?” You read out loud, staring at him with confusion evident in your eyes. He shrugged, removing the contents and handing you one burger from the bag. 
“I mean if there are other eleven Burger restaurants they must be doing something right!” You had to agree with him, sinking your teeth into the meat and being enthralled when the delicious tastes washed over your tongue. Moaning, you immediately took another bite, giggling with your mouth full as Peter brought a napkin up to the corner of your mouth, wiping away the stray ketchup.
You two ate and discussed what still needed to be done around the apartment, trying to divide tasks up for the next couple of days before his phone went off on the counter. He stood, surveying the message and groaned. 
Rushing to the luggage that sat partially open in the corner of the room, he grabbed the suit, getting changed in the blink of an eye, shooting you a sheepish grin as he finished. “I gotta-” pointing at the open window, you waved him off with a roll of your eyes. 
“Go save the world, Spidey. I’ll be here when you get back.” He rushed over to where you still sat on the couch, planting a sloppy kiss on you, before jumping out the window. The thwip of his webs echoing into the night. 
Futures were positive bright beams of light. Hope that held together even the darkest times that plagued the world. You couldn’t wait to see yours with the man you loved most. 
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sincericida · 12 hours
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★ 【サラダ徳太郎】 「 No Way Home 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter
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sincericida · 12 hours
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Andrew Garfield attends the CHANEL and Charles Finch Pre-Oscar Awards Dinner on March 11, 2023 in Beverly Hills, California
Fucking beautiful baby 🥵
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sincericida · 12 hours
every day i get my heart ripped out & every day i simply just continue
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sincericida · 13 hours
Katie my love, when you’re ready, we’ll be here. Be fine. Take care of yourself. ❤️
a katie update
Today, during nap time, a 2 year old thought it would be hilarious to hide a pot of glitter under his cot and then proceed to dump the entire thing out and then…idk make snow angels in it or something…anyway everything (and I mean everything) was covered in glitter. So that sums up how my Tuesday went. 
In other news, I increased my mood meds recently and got on some sleep meds as well. I’m hoping that will help my horrific insomnia and then maybe I won’t be so tired 24/7. I’ve also been hyperfixated on making tiny rooms. I’ve made three so far and am working on a greenhouse currently. They’re cute af but take a lot of my time. I haven’t really felt like writing or reading anything lately but these things tend to come and go. It okay to a break sometimes. It doesn’t mean the writing goes away forever. Just that it takes a little nap. Hopefully a nap without a hidden glitter surprise though. 
I’ll try and answer some asks chillin in my inbox eventually. I’m not ignoring anyone. I’m just sleepy. Anyone ever be prescribed trazodone to sleep and end up with intense side effects? Cause that’s me the past three days since I started taking it. 
That’s all. Checking in to say that I’m still alive. 
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sincericida · 13 hours
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TARON EGERTON 2023 | Gavin Bond ph. for ICON Magazine Issue #80
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sincericida · 13 hours
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Andrew Garfield and Dakota Johnson at the Deadline's The Contenders Film at DGA Theater Complex on November 14, 2021 in Los Angeles, California.
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sincericida · 14 hours
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remembering ayrton senna (march 21, 1960).
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sincericida · 14 hours
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NICHOLAS HOULT 2023 | Jason Hetherington ph. for L’Officiel Hommes
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sincericida · 14 hours
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andrew garfield lockscreens
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sincericida · 17 hours
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Andrew Garfield on set of "The Amazing Spider-Man" (2011)
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sincericida · 17 hours
Go back to bed now, lady. We can wait. Not your health. Take care ❤️
I am not dead! Just exhausted.
And possibly fighting an upper respiratory infection. My back hurts and it’s weird and I feel like this is one of those occasions where I really should rest but instead I want to write. So instead, here’s a sneaky pesky
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sincericida · 17 hours
Don't bully me I'll cum but also don't praise me because I will also cum-
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sincericida · 17 hours
Andrew Garfield reading tweets in Brazilian Portuguese on Netflix Brasil.
My belly hurts so much laughing every time I watch this, but as a brazilian who I am, I just love this video sooooo much, you know... I love him ❤️
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sincericida · 17 hours
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PEDRO PASCAL March 15, 2023 | Los Angeles, California
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sincericida · 18 hours
Andrew Garfield: Just a silly boy 🤣🫠
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