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int-writersmind · 7 months

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Hanging On The Telephone

Pairing: Peter Parker x Gn!Reader

Sequel to Potential Customer (but could be read as a stand-alone)

Summary: After lending Peter your favorite vinyl, you wonder when you'll see him again...to get your record back of course! No other reason...

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Author's Note: I imagine the album that Reader gives to Peter as Parallel Lines by Blondie but it's neutral enough to be whatever you want it be. The opening track is Hanging on the Telephone so use that info to your discretion.

Also I'm buzzed on two glasses of rosé editing this so bare with me lol.

It had been a week since that day at So-So Records, a few days since you met Peter Parker, a few days since you lent him that album. You try to not be glued to your phone, anxiously waiting for a response like a desperate thirteen-year-old, but still you wonder when he’ll reply.

It was early one morning when the text finally came. You, in your apartment’s kitchen, sipping on your favorite hot beverage startling when your phone chimes.

I think I’ve found my new favorite album, read the text, This is Peter by the way. Peter Parker?

You respond: I had a feeling, You know, I don’t lend my albums out to just anyone.

Then I must be special.

You smile to yourself, covering your face when you realize what you are doing.

“Are you smiling at your phone?” Your roommate says, coming out from her bedroom. “Funny video, or that guy from the store?”

“Uh, the latter, he finally got back to me.”

“Ooh, so what’s next?” Your roommate goes to pour a glass of juice from the refrigerator, you turn in your chair to face her.

“I guess I'll get my record back.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Make it interesting, call him and set up a meeting or something.”

You roll your eyes, “Calling? What am I? Fifty?”

“I think there’s something classic about calling, much more personal than texting.” Your roommate plucks your phone from your hand. You reach for it but your roommate pushes you back with great ease. “It’s easy, I’ll do it for you.”

“No! Don’t you dare!”

Ring ring!

“Hello?” You hear Peter’s voice faintly from your phone’s speaker. Your eyes go wide in fear, your roommate tosses your phone back to you, and you almost drop it like it was a game of hot potato and the spud was literally burning your skin. You suck in a deep breath before–

“Hey-Hi Peter…ugh so sorry I must have ah–misclick–”

You hang up instantly, much to the shock of your roommate. “What-Why the hell did you do that?!?”

“I don't know! I got nervous!” You start to pace back and forth. “Shit, I-I got to call him back.”

“Yeah, duh.” You throw a pillow from the couch at her on your way back to your room.

With the click of the door, you let yourself lean and slowly slid down onto the floor. Phone in hand you stare at the call screen, fingers hesitating on Peter’s number. You take a deep breath before finally pressing Call.

“Hello…”

“Hey, everything ok?” Even through the phone, Peter’s kindness shines through, like you can almost hear his smile through the phone. You kinda feel like a dick for panicking and hanging up on him earlier.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just…being stupid.” You shake your head and cover your eyes with one of your eyes.

“No, don’t say that.”

“It’s fine,” You go to change the subject, “So, the album, any standouts.”

“Well, I would definitely say that opening track has to be my favorite. Every time it ended I just wanted to restart it. A definite addition to my playlist.”

“Hmmm, that’s something I would like to listen to.”

“I’ll show you sometime,” You try and fail to suppress a smile, “Though it’s pretty much one giant mashup of styles and genres.”

“The playlist of a madman.” You joke.

As you listen in, you can hear wind passing by on Peter’s end. “More like the playlist of someone horribly unorganized.”

“Ha, wish I could relate, but I’m much too anal to let that happen.” You move your hand away from your face, letting your head fall against the door. “I know this is gonna sound crazy but what are you doing…I mean because, I like, hear the wind passing by and...”

“Uh, er, I’m running…yeah a nice little run.”

“Oh let me leave you to your run.” You say, “We can always talk again later.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Police sirens go on by on the other end, “Ah, I think I should hang up now, don't want to run into something crazy.”

“I get it, text me some time?”

“Will do.”

“Oh and Peter,” You say. “We should set up and time and place so you can give me back my record.”

“Just when I get use to playing it all the time,” Peter responds sarcastically, “I’m kidding, I’ll let you know when I can.”

At work, you couldn't help but sneak glances at your phone, one part hoping another text would come through, another part hoping that it wouldn’t.

On your lunch break you had an extra few minutes left before clocking back in, you decide to visit your store’s listening room. Well it was more like the back of the store where there was a wall cut-out, curtain, and small table with a record player and a two pairs of headphones. You pick up a small selection of 7 inch singles, trying to figure out what kind of mood you were in. you pull the curtain close to give a smidgen of privacy, picking up one of the headphones your co-worker swore he cleaned.

Halfway through one 7 inch, when you decided that you were in a different mood, you feel the curtain move, you look up to see–

“Hope you don’t mind,” Peter, in the flesh, fully cements himself inside the admittedly tight space. “Your co-worker said I would find you here.”

“And found me you have,” You switch the 7 inch to something else, a song that Peter might know. “Have some time to spare?”

“For you, of course.”

You look away, trying to hide your blush under the guise that you were reaching for the other pair of headphones. Peter graciously accepts, placing them atop of his head, as you set the record player to start.

As the track starts, you sideways glance at Peter and he does the same to you. You laugh it off as the opening notes begin to go through your ears.

It takes Peter a beat before he notices what song is playing–the opening song from the album you lent him. You sheepishly smile at his recognition before slowly moving to the music, a basic shimmy, then a head bob, then as the song reaches the first chorus, mouthing the words. Peter just smiles at you, and gives a modest head bob to the song the whole way through.

As the song fades out, ending you and Peter’s private little listening party, you both take off your headphones and just stare at one another for a moment. “You know…I would love to keep playing music but…”

“Oh yeah… I was just in the area and I just–decided to pop in.”

“Without my record?” You say sarcastically.

Peter shuts his eyes in embarrassment. “Oh yeah…it’s just..um…god I honestly just forgot it–”

You place a hand on Peter’s arm to stop him from going on, before quickly removing it. “Don’t worry about it…” You pull the curtain just slightly back, glancing at your co-worker who was glancing at his watch repeatedly. “You can always just…return it to me at…my place...Oh my god, that was so forward–”

“No! I mean yes? Uh…yeah I can definitely return your record to your place.” Peter stumbles out, “I mean I already know where you live.” Peter’s eyes go wide in shock, his face turning red.

You just chuckle to defuse the situation, at least you weren't the only one who felt so awkward in this situation. Your skin felt warm, your heart was beating so fast it felt like it would drill straight through your ribs.

Is this what it felt like to have a crush? Oh my god, did you actually just say crush? But, you didn’t know what else to call this feeling you had towards Peter. Hell, you barely knew the dude, only sharing a few things with one another, but at the end of each encounter, you were just itching for more. It was kind of embarrassing but honestly, who cares.

“How about you come over to my place around 8:30-ish? My roommate’s working the nightshift.”

“I can make that work.”

“Cool” You say. “Plus, I promise to tell you exciting little factoids about the album and others if you let me.”

“Oh please do so,” Peter leans in close, quite close actually, “It would make little nerd me so excited.”

For just a split second you think about leaning in, closing the gap between the two of you with your lips– Now that was too far, crazy talk.

You settle for a quick glance at his lips before looking at his eyes, clearing your throat before turning to leave the listening area.

You lead Peter to the front of the store, hands wringing in front of you, as you turn and face Peter.

“I’ll text you my apartment number, 8:30?”

“8:30-ish” Peter responds with a finger snap. You do the same with a nod of your head, as you watch Peter leave.

Why did you agree to meet at your place?

You think about what you proposed at the record store, standing alone in the middle of the living room in your apartment. You didn’t know whether or not to dress up so you settled for what you wore at work today with a long cardigan to cozy it up.

You pace back and forth, chewing on your fingernails on one hand, admittedly, overstressing about tonight. Was this like a casual drinks thing? A nice meal paired with casual drinks? Or was it really just a simple handoff and ‘Thanks for lending me the record, I never want to see you again, buh-bye!”

You stop short, pushing all those thoughts and then-some out. You decide to go simple and order a New York delicacy–pizza. If this was something then it would be fun, casual. If it was a simple handoff then, well, more pizza for you. A win-win honestly. But as you place the order, deep down you knew, you just knew that this wasn’t gonna be a simple handout.

Knock-Knock

Man that pizza delivery guy definitely deserves a great tip for speed, efficiency–

“I assume this is for you?” As you open the door there’s Peter, pizza in one hand, record in the other. “Or I just paid and stole someone' else's dinner.”

“Our pizza if you’ll indulge me?” You take the pizza from Peter, and with your other hand you gesture for him to come inside. “Oh, how much do I own you? Since the pizza was my idea and all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” As you close the door behind you, Peter does a quick 360 of your cozy shared space. “This is–”

“Small?”

“Nice. I was gonna say nice,” You walk the pizza over to the wall that served as the kitchen, getting your finest paper plates. “It would be more strange if you lived in some Friends level apartment.”

You notice Peter walking to another section of your living room, where your music set-up was, a fine turntable and modestly priced speakers. Which all sat upon a piece from IKEA that held you and your roommates record collection.

“You ok with soda?” You call out.

“If that’s what you're drinking,” Peter glances at you, “Then that’s what I’ll be drinking.”

You nod as you prepare a pair of pizza on separate plates and pour your favorite soda into slightly dusty glasses.

As you make your way to the main area of the living room, you set everything on the coffee table before standing next to Peter. “And to think I thought you weren’t a serious record collector.”

Your lips form a straight line, nodding your head, “If I let the wrong people know I secretly love collecting vinyls, they’ll never leave me alone.” You joke.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Peter hands you the borrowed record, which you take from him. You squat down, looking for the right place to put it, Peter follows you downward.

“While we're here…maybe I can show you something else?”

“Hmm, some music that will change my life?”

You roll your eyes, “No, just my personal faves.”

Your fingers skim over a few titles, before you select one, some indie, folky singer you actually saw in person. “But only if you wow me with some factoids, as promised.”

“Of course, I never break a promise”

A third record plays as Peter and you are lost in conversation, the scraps of pizza lying on the coffee table. The two of you are close to one another on the couch. You with your head resting on one hand, elbow resting on the back of the couch, Peter holding his glass in front of him.

“...And once I had the record in hand it made the long lines and freezing temperatures worth it.” You turn and hide your face in your hand. “God, I just realized how crazy that sounded.”

“No,no, that was a great story,” Peter lightly places a hand on your leg. “I can tell you're very passionate about this and I bet,” Peter scoots in close, “You really love working at So-So.”

You glance away before facing Peter’s smirking face again. That smirk that makes your stomach tie up in knots. “I mean why else would I work long hours for shit pay. But meeting certain customers also makes it worthwhile.”

“Like clueless customers who come in for some obscure album from the 70s that he doesn’t even bother to buy?”

“Yeah, even customers like that,” You remove your other hand from your head to rest on Peter’s, trying to ignore the burning sensation inside of you telling you to stop. “I know this is stupid but…I’m glad you walked into So-So.”

“Can I say something stupider?” Peter makes a face that makes you laugh. “What I meant to say,” Peter takes your hand, “I’m also glad I walked into So-So.”

The two of you just stare at one another, and it’s like you can almost feel a magnetic pull towards him. Like when the two of you were leaning on that wall at So-So, or when he walked you home and his fingers brushed your thigh, or in the listening room when you just wanted to seal the deal. You had so many thoughts racing through your mind it was hard to focus on the moment.

Peter leans in closer, bringing you right back into the now, You close your eyes as his lips ghost over yours, his breath falling over your lips–the record stops, end of the side.

“Leave it.” Peter whispers before pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was messy, a little hungry, as if each other's lips were the only way to satiate each other’s appetite. Peter places his cup on the coffee table as he brings one of his hands to cup your face.

His lips, god his lips, were coated in the artificially sweet taste of the soda, making him even more irresistible. You couldn’t help but let your hands wander up his chest, your fingers playing with the top button of his shirt, the closest to his neck, wandering fingers pushing themselves inside, feeling warm skin.

Great minds think alike as one of Peter’s hands goes to your waist, his long, slender fingers, going up your shirt, pressing lightly on the skin. You can’t help but sigh at his touch, as his hand slowly travels upward. You swing one leg over both of his, so that you’re basically straddling him, letting your hands go to his neck, as both of his hands fall to your waist.

Ending the moment too soon, Peter pulls away from you, letting his forehead rest against yours, but casting his gaze downwards as to not look at you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Now why would you say that?” With one of your hands, you use your thumb and pointer finger to gently push Peter’s face upwards by his chin, causing him to look you right in your eyes. “I wanted you to kiss me. Hell, I've wanted to kiss you since you walked me home.”

“It’s…it’s not that I regret kissing you, I’ll never regret that…it’s just…” Peter sighs, “I don’t know what this, the two of us, can be after tonight. I don’t know if I’m in a position right now for something…something more serious.”

You chuckle a little, “Bold of you to assume I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend right now.” You say with a smile, you let your finger flick down his bottom lip. “I can do causal, Peter Parker.” You lean in close, your thumb blocking your lips from his, your voice lowering, “Can you?”

Peter sighs into your mouth, a smirk forming on his lips, “I can, but can I ask you one thing?” You nod your head, “Can I borrow some more of your records? I think your taste is starting to rub off on me.”

“Only if you promise to return them to me.”

“If this is what a return looks like…then count me in.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Read Part 3-> Fragile (warning includes smut!)

Thanks for reading! Ah, I can't believe I finally did the sequel to Potential Customer, I already have the last two parts written (since I wrote them in tandem with the og) so expect those soon, but this one was strangely difficult to write. Anyway...anyone want some smut w/ this pairing? That's coming soon, since my fever dream venom peter smut post got so many notes so quickly, lol. Anyway bye void!

masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x y/n #ps4!Peter Parker x reader #spider man 2 ps5 #ps5!peter parker x reader #spiderman remastered #peter parker fluff #insomniac!Peter Parker #insomniac!peter parker x reader #Spotify

137 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

I was scrolling through your blog and saw that you’re thinking about tasm!peter and I’m 🥺 I love it when you write for him, so if you’re accepting requests maybe a first kiss fic with Peter where he’s just super soft and you’re both nervous? 💕it’s okay if you don’t write this though💕 have a lovely night!

AN | You didn’t ask for best friends to lovers…but we have some best friends to lovers with a first kiss! Enjoy❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Slight Language, Mentions of Injuries

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were almost positive that you could feel his eyes on you, but every time you looked up, his eyes were focused on the textbook in front of him. How very odd. You must have been imagining things, or rather you were wishing for him to look at you. Your face flushed with warmth as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth and stared back at your laptop.

Was it hot in the room? It felt like it was sweltering suddenly and you slowly felt like you couldn’t breathe. You looked to the window across your bedroom and found that it was already wide open and bringing in the cool evening autumn air. Your heart rate had slowly picked up, getting stronger and stronger with each passing moment, each passing glance at Peter.

Almost as if Peter knew that something was up, he put his highlighter down and angled his body towards. Your breath hitched at the expression in his pretty eyes, his smile soft and dopey. If you leaned forward you could press your lips against his and kiss him.

Wait. This was Peter. This was Peter Parker, also known as your best friend. You absolutely should not have been having thoughts like this about him. But…here they were, front and center once again. Those very same thoughts had become more and more common over the last few months - the last year - and you couldn’t quite place why. This was the same boy you’d known since you were kids. You were already kids anymore, both PhD students and actual adults.

But the effect he was currently having on you was making you feel more like a shy teenage girl with a big fat crush than a grown woman. You saw his lips moving but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.

“Is everything alright?” you finally heard him and snapped back into reality as he waved his hand in front of your face, “where’d you go, bub?”

“N-nowhere,” you almost choked on the word, your mouth running dry at how he was looking at you. He’d always looked at you a certain way that made you feel like you were the only person in the person, but it’s almost like there was something different in it today, “just zoned out is all.”

“Everything alright?” he reached out and gently touched your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek. A shiver ran down your spine at the touch, unexpected but not unpleasant and you couldn’t help but preen into his touch, “you seem…distracted.”

“No,” you lied, shaking your head lightly, “just really..tired. Long day.”

“Hmm,” he muses and clicks his tongue but doesn’t press you. He’s like that, you learned a long time ago; he never presses you when he knows you’re telling a little white lie or not giving him the full truth. He knows that you’d tell him the full story through your own violation when you were ready, “let’s stop for the night. I think it’s pizza time.”

“Yeah?” your eyes lit up with excitement as he nodded. You loved any moment you spent with him, but you loved your lazy evenings with him especially. Peter was the type of person you could do anything with and it would be fun; you could go grocery shopping and it would be thrilling so long as he was there, “sounds perfect, Pete.”

“C’mon,” he slid off your bed and padded towards the living room, holding his hand out for you to follow. You both knew that you’d always take his hand, you’d always follow him, you’d follow him anywhere. You wasted no time in joining him.

But today there was something different, something different in how tenderly he took your hand in his. You wondered if he felt it too.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been two days since you’d last seen or heard from Peter. Two whole days. Forty-eight long hours. It wasn’t like him to go ghost without saying anything…the two of you told each other everything. But all you had of him right now was a lot of unanswered texts, countless voicemails, and even emails without response. You were worried sick. You knew something was wrong. Something was off.

That’s why you went over to his apartment, deciding that enough was enough and you were going to figure out what was going on. You didn’t even bother knocking as you let yourself into the apartment with the key you’d possessed since the day he’d gotten the place.

“Peter?” you called out into the darkness, frowning when it appeared that no was home. Where on earth could he be? He’d never done this before in the almost two decades you’d known him, “Petey?”

You flicked on the lights, finding everything in the same place as when you had left his place three nights ago. You sighed slightly as you walked down the hall towards his bedroom, nervous as to what you would find.

“Peter?” you called softly, noticing that his bedroom door was slightly ajar. You pushed it open after rapping your knuckles against it and slowly walked into the room. To your relief, you found his bedside lamp on…and him lying across his bed, silent but with a pained look on his face, “Peter!”

You were at his side in an instant, crouching down next to his head so you could take a better look. Once he heard you, the tiniest of smiles tugged up the corner of his mouth as he turned his face towards you. Even in the faint yellow light from the old lamp you could see the cuts across his cheek, the bruising under his eye, and the split in his swollen lip. Your heart almost jumped into your throat as you gingerly brushed his hair out of his face, “hi.”

His voice was dry and cracked even on the single syllable. Your mind was reeling, unable to focus on what to worry about first. The best thing, you supposed, was the fact that he was alive and breathing. You were so focused on his face that you still didn’t notice one large, very glaring detail. Peter, despite the pain in his body and the ache in his heart at seeing you upset, was waiting for you to realize. He wasn’t sure how you’d take it - how you’d view him from now on.

“Peter,” you whispered his name, and despite the shake and worry in your voice, his name never sounded better than when you said. It was like the sweetest, golden honey. He closed his eyes for a moment before reaching up to touch your face. He trailed his fingers along your jaw and down your neck. You’d been expecting the feel of his gentle skin on yours, but instead you felt something different, “what…”

Reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist, you pulled his arm away and studied it. It wasn’t his skin you were feeling, not even a sweater or shirt…but some sort of spandex material. Following the material up his arm, all you could see was red and blue.

“Bub-”

“Peter,” you’d back away in surprise, shocked by the sight that was in front of you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you shook your head, “w-what is this? What’s going on?”

“I can explain,” he slowly sat up, quietly groaning as pain coursed through his body. Normally he healed at impressive, superhuman rates, but these latest injuries were taking longer than normal. Your eyes were stinging with tears that were threatening to well up and run down your cheeks, “I swear…I can…explain.”

“You’re Spider-Man,” it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even up for debate. It was a statement of fact, pure and simple. His eyes caught yours but he found himself speechless, “or you’re stealing his clothes - suit. But I highly doubt it.”

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat before nodding slowly. He moved to stand up to walk over to you, but winced in pain and remained seated. Despite the shock and surprise of the fact that Peter Parker, your best friend, was Spider-Man, you were still worried about him. Part of you was angry that he’d kept this secret from you, but the bigger part of you was worried about him. You’d always care about him. You were aware of the fact that nothing would ever change that.

“I’m sorry,” he clutched at his side lightly before giving you the most apologetic look you’d ever seen. You knew he meant it, “I…bub, I was going to tell you. I was just…worried about this. You seeing me like this. Didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“Peter,” you sighed as you dropped to your knees, gently putting your hands on his thighs, “I will always worry about you. As Peter, or as Spider-Man. I worry if you’ve gotten enough sleep, if you’ve eaten enough, if you’ve done your laundry, if you’ve remembered to buy new bottles of shampoo and conditioner…”

“I know,” he set his hands on top of yours and gave them a gentle squeeze, “I know. I…feel the same.”

“I know you do, Peter,” you promised sweetly, “I…fuck. Is this where you’ve been the last couple of days? Is this what happened, love?”

“My phone fell when I was swinging,” he admitted sheepishly, “fell right onto the ground and shattered. After that one thing led to another and I ended up like this. But you should see the other guy.”

It was a meek little laugh that escaped his lips as you sighed lightly, “oh, Peter. I wish I would have known…I could have….done something.”

“No,” he shook his head lightly, “you are never going to be a part of this, of Spider-Man.”

“You realize that’s not going to stop me, right?” you whispered so softly that he almost didn’t hear it. You looked into his eyes, those big familiar brown eyes, “Spider-Man or not.”

“I know,” of course he knew. He’d always known, “I just wanted to protect you. Keep you safe from all the…bad stuff.”

“I know,” you echoed his words, “you always have. But you’ve gotta let me take care of you too, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah.”

“Is this what’s been going on for the last few months?” you backtracked in your mind, trying to place when all the mysterious bruises, cuts, and scratches had started. At first you hadn’t questioned them, knowing Peter had a tendency to be more clumsy, but when they became more regular and angry, you’d become suspicious. But he’d always had an explanation, and you’d always believed him. But then you realized that you’d been seeing him less and less, especially in the evenings and…it all made sense suddenly, “that’s why you’ve been…oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he grew sheepish as you sighed lightly, not in anger but not necessarily in relief either, “I was gonna tell you, I promise.”

“I know you would have,” and you did. Secrets were never held long between the two of you, “I…I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if…anyway, that’s not important right now. What’s important now is that you let me take care of you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t,” you put a finger to his mouth to gently shush him, “don’t do this right now. Let me help…please?”

“Okay.”

You stood back up and motioned for him to stay as you headed into his bathroom to grab the first aid kit. You caught your own reflection in the mirror; there were some tears that had pearled down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you’d been crying. The idea that anything could have happened to him was the worst feeling in the world. After drying them off with the sleeve of your sweater, you went into the cabinet and grabbed everything and headed back over to him.

When you walked into his bedroom, you shook your head when you noticed that he’d managed to change into a t-shirt and shorts, sitting upright against the headboard. You wanted to be annoyed with him, but you never could be, not for long anyway, “oh Peter.”

“I’m alright,” the two of you exchanged a look before you shared a small laugh. Perching yourself on the edge of his bed, you reached into the kit and pulled out some alcohol and a clean rag to clean up the cuts on his face. You reached up and gently started to clean his face, and despite being as gentle as possible, you could see him grimace in pain.

Once you’d gotten his face patched up, you ghosted your fingers over the bruise forming on his cheek, frowning deeply. He hated seeing you upset over him…this was everything he’d been trying to avoid.

“Where else?” you looked him over and remembered him clutching at his side. Without even waiting for permission, you reached for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it up. A small gasp escaped your lips as the bruising on his side became revealed. It looked incredibly painful, “Peter.”

“‘s alright,” he insisted, “it’s already healed a lot. It’ll get better soon, nothing’s broken.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” your voice trembled with effort to keep from crying; you just hated seeing him like this.

“I’m not,” he reached up and rested his hand on the side of your neck, brushing his thumb along your jaw, “promise. Didn’t mean to worry you, sweetheart.”

“I always worry about your dumbass, Parker,” you scoffed at him, sweet and affectionate despite the fact that you truly meant it, “just…be careful, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if…if something ever happened to you.”

“I know,” and if only you knew just how strongly he felt the same way about you. He pulled his hand away and scooted over on the bed, and motioned for you to join him. You moved softly, trying not to disturb him too much as you sat facing him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few long moments, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, attempting to understand what had shifted. No emotions, no feelings, nothing had changed, but there was a shift and something new had bubbled up the surface. Peter reached for your hand, taking it in his much larger one and laced your fingers together.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” your face immediately warmed up and you had to look away, but the smile on your face was undeniable. He put a finger under your chin and turned your face back to his, “I should tell you every day. I will tell you every day.”

“Peter…” you closed your eyes for a moment, but the smile on your face was undeniable.

“Can I kiss you?” The question caught you so off guard, your eyes snapped back open as he watched you gently. Your breath hitched in your throat as you nodded eagerly.

Both of you leaned in and met halfway, your lips brushing softly against each other. You thought it might have been awkward or weird, but it felt like never. It was easy to melt into his touch, and it felt like the two of you had been doing this forever; there was no learning curve, nothing off. It was like you had always been meant to kiss Peter Parker.

Only once he’d kissed you breathless and senseless did you pull back. He was smiling softly at you, almost as if he was unsure if you’d like it. You couldn’t help but lean in and give him a few more kisses.

“You, Peter Parker, can kiss me anytime,” you grinned at him, “just so you know.”

“I’m going to take you up on that offer…just so you know.”

“I hope you do.”

“I will.”

“So kiss me now…please.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x reader

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spideytorchweek · 10 months

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Now Announcing Spideytorch Week 2023!

Spideytorch Week is a weekly event centered around the relationship between Peter Parker (Spider-Man) and Johnny Storm (The Human Torch) from the Marvel comics!

The event will take place October 9th thru October 15th!

This years' themes are:

Day 1 - Across the Multiverse: Go wild with imagination of all the possible Peter Parkers and Johnny Storms in the Marvel multiverse from Peter B. Parker and a Jonathan L.S. Storm to 1930s Spider-Noir and Long Island man Jonathan Storm. The possibilities are as endless as the multiverse.

Day 2 - Space/Exploration: The Fantastic Four and Spider-Man have been to space on many occasions. Outer Space is vast and wide with a limitless amount of things to explore, including Peter and Johnny's feelings for one another.

Day 3 - Caught in the Act: What happens if Peter and Johnny get caught in the act? Did the paparazzi capture a kiss between Johnny and Spider-Man after a rough fight, or does Johnny film another tape that gets stolen again, starring one Peter Parker this time? (See Amazing Spider-Man Digital #17, 2009)

Day 4 - Villain AU: Anything and all things villain related go here. Peter or Johnny can be villians or they can be working together to stop a villain. Maybe Peter never did rid himself of the Venom symbiote. It's all up to your villainous imagination.

Day 5 - Domestic AU: From moving in or living together to babysitting or raising kids and everything in between, anything with that domestic vibe goes on this day.

Day 6 - New York, New York: The more things change the more they stay the same. Nothing has been more constant to Spideytorch than New York City. This day is anything related to Peter and Johnny and the Big Apple like hot dog dates on many a rooftops in the city to keeping villains of the streets of Manhattan.

Day 7 - Free Day!: Participant's choice! Anything goes on this day! You can also use as a makeup day if you missed the deadline for any other day.

The above are just recommendations for the theme each day so feel free to put your own spin on any of the themes.

We accept all fanworks and there’s no signups needed to participate - just remember to tag #spideytorchweek in your first five tags and tag @spideytorchweek!

For anyone new to the Spideytorch ship and/or anyone who wants to read more canon comic material about them in preparation for Spideytorch Week here are some resources to get your started from @fyeahspideytorch and @traincat!

Here & Here

#Spideytorch #Peter Parker #Johnny Storm #Marvel #Marvel Comics #mod post

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meganslife · 3 months

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Pen pals - p. parker (part five)

pairing: TASM! peter parker x reader

TASM! peter masterlist w/ series

summary: you find out that peter is spiderman, and your visit continues with more love and affection than you could ever imagine. (possible tw’s; past-self harm mention, slight panic attack on peters end)

a/n: HI HI HI!! i am so sorry that this came out later than i said it would. vacay was rough and busy. anyway, enjoy!

Peter stares at you like a deer in headlights. You stare right back.

“It’s… It’s a cosplay–” Peter tries.

“Peter.”

He puts all of the food back in the fridge. “I’m preparing for comic-con.”

“Peter, stop.”

“I’m serious! I- I take comic-con very seriously,” Peter insists.

You shake your head, turning away from him.

“Peter, it’s okay. You’re Spider-Man. It’s fine.” You sigh, noticing some blood on his suit. “Are you bleeding?”

He tenses up. “I– um, maybe.”

You grab his chin and inspect his face. He has a bruise forming on his temple, and a small cut on top of the bruise. “I’ll clean you up,” You say, yanking him by his wrist to the bathroom. No other house would have a full drawer of medical supplies besides Peter’s.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Peter whines. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“I don’t care.”

He scoffs, leaning on the bathroom counter. You start a bath and make it all bubbly and warm. Peter was visibly stressed, and baths helped you, so maybe they’d help Peter.

“Okay!” You clap, “Uh, I’ll turn around and you can… Y’know.”

Peter nods, his face flushed.

He gets into the water, wincing at how warm it is. You ask if you can turn around, and he says yes, but you don’t really know if you’re ready to turn around. The bubbles in the water most likely made it so that you couldn’t see his bottom half… But you’d see enough to make you feel funny.

You slide off your hoodie, and then you realize you’re only in a bra and shorts. Peter notices too.

“Sorry. It’s just hot in here-”

Peter shakes his head. “It’s okay. Can you wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You nod. He gets his hair wet, going under the water in the process. When he comes back up, he stares at you again. You pretend to not notice as you rub the shampoo into his scalp.

“What?” You laugh, washing out the shampoo. “You’re staring at me.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling. “It’s nothing,”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s an awkward question,” His posture slumps. He’s embarrassed.

You rub his shoulders. “Just ask it. I don’t care if it’s awkward.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You gulp. “Yeah.” That was an awkward question.

Relationships have been terrible for you so far. The last boyfriend you had was the summer before college started. He was terrible. Super mean, especially about Peter. He didn’t understand how important Peter was to you. Talking about relationships kind of made you feel sick, mostly because no one had ever treated you right. You felt unloveable. Sometimes you worried that you’d die alone and cold.

“You never mentioned one in our letters,” He raises an eyebrow.

“I guess I just didn’t want to talk about it,” You shrug. “They were all mean.”

Peter looks at you, his smile gone. “Mean?”

“I don’t like talking about them,” You look down at your lap. “It’s kind of like re-hashing old wounds, you know?”

Peter doesn’t miss how you briefly look at your arm; the arm is scattered with white scars from old wounds you inflicted on yourself.

“Can you turn around so I can dry myself off?” Peter asks.

You nod, and he barely even dries himself off. You can hear how antsy he is.

The towel was wrapped around his waist when you felt him hugging you from behind.

“Peter, you’re all wet,” You giggle.

He laughs too. “Shh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

“Let go.”

“Never,” Peter whispers in your ear.

“I’ll scream,” You warn.

“Yeah, right.”

When you and Peter finally make it to his bed, he wraps an arm around your shoulders as he reads. You really want to sleep. But Peter is right there. He’s warm and soft. He sets his book down and takes his glasses off when he feels you cuddling up to him.

“You tired?” Peter asks, smiling.

“No,” You murmur into his neck.

He rubs your back, making you even more tired.

“Do you wanna see my webs?” He whispers.

You shake your head. “Show me tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

When Peter wakes up, he’s alone in his bed.

He groans, stretching. He heard the shower running, and you singing, and he smiled.

It was already day two of your visit. Peter never wanted it to end, no, the thought of you leaving terrified him. He had already become dependent on your smile to get him through the day. I’m whipped, he thinks as he makes breakfast for you and May.

May emerges from her bedroom with a slight grin.

“Saw you two sleeping in your bed,” She says. “You didn’t have sex, right?”

Peter chokes on his orange juice. He shakes his head with a blush rising on his cheeks and ears.

“Good,” May sighs, “I hated giving you the talk the first time.”

“What talk?” You ask, clueless.

Your skin was all red and slightly wet from your shower. Not to mention that you were only wrapped in a towel. Peter couldn’t form a single thought in his brain.

“Umm,” Peter stammers, “Being safe as Spider-Man. She noticed my latest injuries.”

May nods, tugging at Peter’s ear. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day!”

You laugh, girlish and loud. Peter watches as you walk away, the urge to tug you back and kiss you is way too primal.

Once you’re dressed and have eaten breakfast, Peter wanted to go for a walk.

It was nice outside. Not too warm, and not too cold. Peter slips an arm around your waist as you walk through Central Park, and you seem none the wiser. He listens to you talk about the latest book you read, because how could he not? You’re beaming and beautiful and so excited about some book he’s never heard of. He thinks he loves you, but he’s not going to think too much about it.

“Was it supposed to rain?” You ask him. “I felt a drop.”

Peter feels one too, along with the guilt of taking you out when it’s about to pour.

“Sorry, bub. I didn’t know it was gonna rain… We can get a cab home if you want,” Peter shrugs, letting go of your waist.

“It’s okay,” You laugh, “I don’t mind getting a little wet!”

Peter’s fingers ghost over yours. You notice what he’s doing, and smile, telling him not to be shy. It was hard for him to not be. When your hand is in his, he feels a little more confident. Secure.

The rain starts coming down, and you mutter something about a paper in your pocket.

“What’s in your pocket?” Peter asks, “You keep digging in there.”

You let go of his hand.

“It’s nothing,” You stop walking to look through every pocket in your shorts. “Ugh, damnit.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, “Okay, what did you lose?”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me,” You whine. “Please. It’s so embarrassing.”

“So much embarrassment for one girl. Just tell me.”

You take a deep breath. “I lost the drawing you gave me.”

Peter ponders for a moment. Did he give you a drawing? He couldn’t even remember.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Peter grins, “That can’t be the right word.”

“Guilty? A terrible friend?” You grumble, hugging Peter. He hoped it was for comfort.

Peter chuckles, hugging you back. The rain is still pouring down on you both.

“It’s okay, lovie,” He smiles, “I’ll draw you something else, okay?”

You nod, still frowning.

Peter knew he didn’t draw you a lot of things. He would make drawings for you, but wouldn’t send them in fear that they were bad. Maybe he’d show them to you soon.

“I bet you can’t beat me to that bench over there,” Peter dares.

A smile spreads across your face. “I bet I can.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You count down from three, and you both start running. Peter immediately starts falling behind, and you can’t tell if he’s doing it purposefully or not. You and Peter’s giggles are some of the only noises around, other than birds chirping.

When you win the race and sit on the bench, he follows close behind.

“Fuck,” Peter gasps, “Why the hell are you so fast?”

Rain is still coming down, but the sun is peaking out. A rainbow is starting to form in the sky.

You blush, “I think you let me win.”

He laughs, still out of breath. “Maybe a little.”

The bench was wet and uncomfortable to sit on. You and Peter were both soaking wet. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, kissing the crown of your head. Peter mutters about something May said before you came; how you would have laughed so hard at her stupid joke. You try to listen, you really do, but Peter’s mouth looks so lovely and kissable. God, you need to get over this crush. Or do something about it.

“What?” Peter finally looks at you, “Is there something on my face-?”

“No. I was- uh, zoning out,” You lie, “Wanna go back home?”

He nods, squeezing your hand. “Let’s go, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl, you repeat in your head.

You and Peter get back home and shower, as neither of you wanted to get sick or smell like rain. He watches as you do your makeup afterward, even though you guys aren’t going anywhere.

“It cannot be that interesting to watch a girl do her makeup,” You chuckle.

“Oh, but it is,” Peter says, “I don’t know how you do it.”

You don’t respond, putting your signature lipgloss on instead.

May shuffles past Peter and into the bathroom, she tells you that you look pretty. Peter wants to say something like that, too, but he’s not sure how to word it. “I have a shift,” May says, “I’ll be gone for a while. No funny business, you two!”

“Bye, May,” Peter kisses her cheek goodbye.

You kiss her cheek too, and then she’s gone.

Peter walks off to his bedroom with his face flushed. He’s so annoyed with himself. Why can’t he just tell you he likes you? He could tell Gwen he liked her. He almost hears Gwen’s voice in his head, telling him to go get her. Scoop her up before someone else does. Gwen always knew what was best. God damn her and her wiseness. Before Peter knows it, he’s crying, holding his hands over his mouth and nose to stop the pathetic noises from escaping. He just really needed to tell you. And if you don’t feel the same, then he’ll just shrivel up and die—no big deal.

He pulls himself together before you can notice something being amiss.

“Do you have a roof we can sit on?” You ask, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Peter smiles. “You want to sit on the roof?”

“Yeah!” You beam, “I used to do it as a kid. Almost fell and broke my ankle once.”

“Don’t break your ankle sitting on the counter.”

You scoff, hugging your legs to your chest.

Peter moves around the kitchen. He’s cleaning what doesn’t need to be cleaned-- mostly because he needs to distract himself. You aren’t helping by sitting on the counter and watching his every move.

“So,” You tug Peter’s wrist, “Roof? C’mon, Pete. The sun’s setting. We can’t miss it!”

“It’s not that interesting,” He says, voice monotone. “Usually the same sunset every day.”

“Well, I haven’t been here every day.”

Your determination to sit on the roof almost makes him smile. Almost.

“Fine,” Peter sighs. “If you break a bone, it’s your fault.”

You nod, face flushed, and eyes creased from your bruising smile. Peter worries you’ll get stuck like that; your huge, crooked smile. Not that he would mind you being stuck like this.

When both of you are on the roof, you hand Peter one of your wired earbuds. He takes it and lays himself down on the shingles with you.

“Any song requests?” You smile. That goddamn smile, Peter thinks.

“All These Things That I’ve Done,” Peter says instantly, “You know, The Killers?”

The song starts playing. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard this one,” You confess.

Another head aches,

another heart breaks,

I’m so much older than I can take.

And my affection, well it comes and goes

I need direction to perfection, no, no, no, no--

Peter shrugs, smiling. “I need to introduce you to real music.”

You look over at him, face flushed and a little sweaty because of how hot it is. Peter doesn’t look over at you; he’s too afraid. The fact that he feels nervous and shy because of you makes him smile, but it also scares him. “You’re not looking at the sunset,” Peter remarks. You glance at the sunset. It wasn’t that exciting, like Peter said.

“Peter,” You whisper, “I didn’t want to come out here for the sunset.”

He looks visibly confused. You frown.

“Why are we on the roof, then? I don’t want you up here, Y/N, you’ll get hurt.”

You groan, face falling between your knees.

“I like you, Pete,” You say quietly, so quiet that Peter almost misses it.

“What?” He practically squeaks.

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Peter puts his hand on your knee, he’s smiling. “You like me?”

You whine, trying to get away from him. You slide down the roof and onto the porch, Peter watches and follows. When you stride off to the front door, Peter stops you. He yanks you back with a web, his hands going to your waist. “Those were my webs, if you wanted to know,” He smiles, looking into your eyes.

Laughing, your hands fall on his face. The stubble of facial hair against your palms, his pink cheeks, and his stupidly gorgeous brown eyes were so close.

“For the record,” Peter twirls some of your hair around his fingers, “I like you too. Maybe more than like.”

You look away from his eyes, the fluttering feeling in your stomach becoming too much.

“No,” He whispers, “Look at me.”

You shake your head, smiling and squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t expect him to do anything funny when you did that, but then he kissed your lips, and everything melted.

Peter felt bad that he hadn’t asked first. “Sorry,” He huffs, still holding onto your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” You smile, leaning in and kissing him.

Peter sinks into the kiss, hands roaming around your face and neck. You tried really hard not to make any embarrassing sounds or mess up. It had been a long time since you kissed anyone. Peter didn’t mind, he guided you with pleasure. When he touches his tongue to your bottom lip, you groan. You two were eventually french-kissing on his front porch, still not giving a damn about the sunset.

“We should-” You murmur between kisses, “We should go inside, don’t you think? This is a lot of PDA.”

Peter laughs, kissing the corner of your mouth. He leads you inside and into his room. You have a feeling that you know what’s happening next, and your heart feels heavy. It’s not that you didn’t like Peter. You loved him. You didn’t want to have sex with him, not now at least. And you didn’t want that to be the entirety of the visit.

You couldn’t have been more off.

“Do you wanna go out on a date?” Peter asks, lying down on his bed. “I wanted to take you out before kissing you. The buildup would’ve been nice, you know? But, I just couldn’t help it.”

You stare at him, standing in front of his bed. “What?”

Peter shrugs. “If you don’t wanna go out, that’s cool. I just wanted you to know that I want to be together.”

“You want that?” You ask quietly.

“Do you not?”

That was such a dumb question. Of course, you wanted it. You wanted to be with Peter since junior year of high school when you two first connected and started the letters. It was just a foreign feeling to be wanted for something. Peter was everything you needed and wanted, so why did you feel this nervous bomb in your stomach waiting to explode?

“Bub,” Peter coos, “Come here, will you? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You walk over to Peter, falling into his arms. “You want to be with me?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t,” He assures.

“Oh.”

He laughs, loudly and unapologetically, not at you, but more so at the fact that you didn’t understand that he wanted this. He wanted to be close to you and be able to hug your waist. He wanted everything, only if it was involving you. “I think that when Gwen died, I knew,” Peter says quietly.

“Knew what?”

“I knew that she was right. She’d always tell me to be with you, even though you lived so far. The number of times I talked about you was unreal. I love Gwen, obviously, but she was right about you. You’ve always been my person.” He explains, toying with the necklace around your neck.

You smile, warmth pooling in your chest. Peter smiles too, kissing your knuckles.

“What would we do about distance?” You ask, “I won’t be in Queens forever.”

“I dunno. Maybe we just have to go with the flow and see,” Peter shrugs, “I wish you could be here forever.” He hugs you tighter.

You giggle, kissing down Peter’s hairline. His head remains in your chest, listening to your heart and accepting all of the love you were giving him. Peter was euphoric; practically buzzing with happiness.

He loved you, you loved him, and everything was at peace.

“Are you sure you’re not gonna go spidering?”

Peter groans, throwing a balled-up shirt at your head. He’s attempting to clean his room, but you’re bombarding him about Spider-Man duties.

“Stop calling it that,” He demands, “And no, I’m not going out.”

“Twitter is very concerned about your whereabouts–”

He snatches your phone from your hand, grinning.

Kissing your head, he says; “I’d rather be with you than doing NYPD’s job.”

“They should pay you for saving New York so many times,” You suggest, blushing from his proximity. You could feel the heat radiating off his face.

Peter pecks your lips, slow and loving. You laugh, pushing him away when he starts to kiss down your neck. “Go away,” You giggle.

“Go away?” Peter laughs, “You were begging me to lay by you earlier. What happened to that, honey?”

The soft hum of music plays in the background. City noises are making the walls rattle. Peter is warm and lovely. You want to stay here forever, you think. Peter and you, forever.

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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i imagine peter to be the sweetest ever. imagine hes been pinning over you for years and eventually after another failed first date, you announce youre done with love. then peter stands up and declares hes gonna show you how its done. and thats how you start dating peter

working on a lot of stuff, i promise i'm doing the best i can atm!

You’ve been in love three times.

Number one was Conner Fields. He was your first boyfriend, it was all innocence and excitement. The first time you felt nervous to hold a hand and you were locked up with jitters the entire night after your first kiss. Awkward middle school dances and staying up all night texting, pure childhood love. It didn’t work out, but a part of you will always love Conner Fields and you can hope the same for him.

Number two was Dustin Powers. He was your highschool love, it was all exploring and discovering. The first time you felt lust, a feeling that made you kiss until you couldn’t breathe and felt like your lips would fall off. Questionable moves that turned into breathy sighs and shaky hands as you undressed another person for the first time. Unsure movements that became bold and calculated. The first time you had real trust for someone, the first true love you ever had.

Number three was Peter Parker. He was your best friend, it was all comfortable and peaceful. The first time you felt homey and peaceful, like nothing could touch you or wreck you ever again. The first time you felt someone truly had your back, someone who defended you with a cardboard sword. The first time you felt love first, words second. The first time you had someone forgo their own needs to carry yours. The first time you felt breathless by a kiss. The first time you felt numb and buzzed and high all at the same time by a hand on your lower back. The first time someone said they weren’t going anywhere and you believed them.

There were guys between boyfriends two and three. Nothing serious, a couple dates and it fizzled out. One guy refused to buy you your meal, and you wouldn’t mind, you can pay for yourself. However, you did mind that he made a point to tell you after you had paid that you passed the test, and when you asked what test he shrugged and told you it was so he could tell who just wanted a free dinner and who wanted a real date. You didn’t respond to his texts after that.

One guy quite literally forced his tongue down your throat and you couldn’t have noped out faster.

One guy flirted with the waitress, bartender, movie theater popcorn maker and then told you at the end of the night he took a chance on someone who isn’t on his regular scale of hotness. You almost burst a blood vessel while withholding your hand from smacking him.

The final straw was when a date showed up an hour late, you couldn’t have felt more embarrassed. Correction, you could when he showed up obviously freshly fucked and when you pointed it out he stated that men have needs and it was his ex so it didn’t count. You stuffed the complimentary bread in your purse and took the nearly full bottle of wine off the table and walked away, no words needed.

Peter watched you chug at the bottle, you wiped your mouth when you ripped it away.

“Love is a lie, and it’s pointless in trying to believe in it.”

“Hey now, love is very real, it's just hard for you to find it right now.”

You searched for the bread basket and set it on the coffee table, you immediately ripped a piece apart and stuffed it in your mouth, “I’ll die alone with my bread and wine and I’ll probably have to start adopting cats now if I want to reach my one hundred goal when I’m sixty.”

Peter shoulder checked you, “we could get a cat.”

Your best friend is right, love isn’t a lie because you feel it with him. You don’t think a love with absolutely no conditions existed, and even though it’s a friendship it’s always felt a little deeper than that. Soulmates even, and you swear you’d find each other in any life or timeline. Sometimes you think about what it would be like if you had met under different circumstances, maybe if you met in college instead he’d be something more than a friend.

It’s not like you were in love with Peter, but it’s a passing thought that circles from time to time. Sometimes you even wonder if he thinks the same, some nights you find yourself drunk and you look at Peter in a different light, and think of giving him a kiss, if it didn’t change everything that’d be fine, but at least you would know instead of always thinking of a ‘what if.’

You were best friends, always have been. At least since high school, it’s been six years. Now in your second year in college and closer than ever you think it wouldn’t be weird to kiss him, and that should be weird. But it wasn’t.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?”

Peter hitched his breath, “what?” There’s no way you said that to him of all people.

“I dunno, I feel like that’s normal, right? I mean we're best friends of the opposite gender, don’t you ever think about the what if?”

“What’s the what if?”

You shrug, “if we met at a different time our relationship might be different.”

He does. He thinks about it too, the first time was in high school and he buried it down. Sometimes it’s better to just think about it, he liked you too much and he wasn’t prepared to lose you as a friend, it was better he stayed quiet and protected what you had. But since college, it’s been a rampant thought. Some nights he’d catch himself holding you close and playing guard dog to any man that walks your way, sometimes he likes to pretend he’s your boyfriend, even if just for a night.

Peter can’t admit that, he’d be a psycho. He has to play it cool.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. You mean if we’d be boyfriend girlfriend instead?”

“Yeah.”

You feel him looking at the side of your face but if you look at him you’ll feel hot.

“Yeah. I do.” He nods, sure of his answer.

Interest piqued, “which one?” Does he think about what it’d be like if you dated or kissed?

While he thinks it would be fun to be your boyfriend, he can’t lie.

“I think of kissing you a lot more.”

That should be questionable on its own, but it’s not. You nod and accept the answer, you loop back around to your original thought. It would be weird for a second, but it would answer everything you wanted to know.

You turn to face him, you sit up straighter and give him a smile when you feel nerves creeping up because it’s just Peter.

“Do you want to kiss?”

Peter feels his eyes widen, “right now?”

“Yeah. We can give it a try.”

He’s hesitant, sometimes wanting is better wanting. “Is that a good idea?”

Peter watches you think it over, and it looks like you really are. Thoughts race through your mind and there's two thoughts, you love and trust Peter. Either you laugh it off or move forward as something else, you don’t think you could live without the answer.

“Yes. Yes, I think we should kiss.”

You’re sure of it, it takes Peter a second of lag time before he processes your words. His shoulders square and he twists so he’s facing you more on the couch, he clears his throat and leans in slightly.

He’s hesitant, he’s not sure where to touch you or how to kiss you. He’s kissed people before, he has that part down, but how? Sensual, flirty, fun, innocent, platonically?

Peter’s hand cups your face and his eye dart from your mouth to your eyes, you’re holding your breath with anticipation. He thinks he’s going to kiss you with the exact emotion he feels for you. Love.

The moment you connect you melt, everything you wanted or needed amounted to this second and you can’t believe you waited so god damn long to ask Peter Parker to kiss you. His mouth lined up with yours, his bottom lip favoring your top, you weren’t sure how he was feeling but you can hope it's the same passion.

You see colors behind your eyelids, you find yourself only locked in the bliss of your best friend's touch.

Peter pulls away, he knows how he feels, everything he thought he knew about his feelings were amplified by a million. If you didn’t like it he doesn’t think he could go back to how it was.

Breathless, he’s desperate for the answer. He wants to drink you back up.

“Thoughts?”

You nod your chin at him, “you first.”

“I think I want to keep doing that and take you out to dinner to show you love is real, and it can be yours, if you’d like.”

Your eyes sparkle, you pull him in by his shirt collar and mutter at him before locking your lips again.

“I’d like. I’d like very much.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #my writing

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lovedrots · 1 year

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little moments

iii . little moments - p.p. x reader ᥫ᭡

synopsis : you spend the last days of your trip to italy with the boy you admire most. ( includes one-bed!trope and mutual pining )

warnings : creepy pedo old(ish) men, mild swearing, very, very rushed. this is the first time i have written in a while. :( unedited, not proof-read !!

a/n : this is my first time writing in . . . a long time ! so please note that this likely isn’t very smooth, nor is it proof-read / edited. also i am begging you guys to give me requests in my inbox .. i gotta write more !!

word count : 6,921

italy ; 1:56 p.m.

venice was supposed to be fun.

this was supposed to be your opportunity to get away from your parents, to live out your cliche teenage late-night dreams with your closest friend, betty.

but instead, you were stuck trailing her and her new boy-toy, ned leeds.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like ned. no, he was funny. kind. but what bothered you was that he had wormed his way right into the middle of your plans. betty and you had put together list of what you wanted to do: sneak out at night to drink hot cocoa on the roof, pet the pigeons, take every boat you saw … of course, those were all thrown out the window.

and it didn’t really help, that ned’s best friend, peter parker wasn’t around. you hoped that he would at least have his – rather cute – best friend by his side, but it seemed that even he wasn’t content on watching ned and betty suck each other’s faces off.

understandable.

turning your attention from the pale waters, you tried to catch your blonde friend’s gaze – mission failed. you pursed your lip, fingers picking at each other. you were getting antsy, with a need to go something. anything.

“have you guys checked out the saint mark’s basilica yet?” you quipped, sliding in front of them. you were sick of trailing them like a helpless dog.

“doesn’t look fun,” ned muttered, dark eyes glued to betty’s grinning face. and the other didn’t even think it proper to reply. neither of them seemed to notice you, as they brushed past, the girl’s shoulder bumping yours in the process.

your face flushed with something resembling anger – both because of their lack of attention, and the fact that you may have been a little jealous of the couple. just a little. who wouldn’t be? sure, you could say they were just in the honeymoon phase, but the way they looked at each other still had you yearning for more than your life offered. when would you get to experience that? just thinking about it had you kicking your feet, fireworks going off in your tummy.

though you would never admit it, some nights, you would imagine yourself sleeping beside someone. it made you feel … safe, when no one else did.

that’s when you realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks, ned and betty out of sight. you frantically looked around, e/c eyes scanning heads as you stood on your toes. shit. gone.

“lost, amore?” a old, sultry voice rasped. you turned to see a man – likely in his fifties – looking you up and down. though he was smiling, it was certainly nothing kind.

lost? you weren’t lost. just exploring, yeah? you knew where you were; the cream walls, beige roof of the building to your left … the totally familiar waters …

okay, sure. you were lost.

but you couldn’t tell a stranger that!

“no, sir,” you replied, and though you tried to put strength into your voice, it still managed to come out as nothing more than a squeak. “i was just – just looking around. i’ve been here tons of times.”

you began inching backwards, uncomfortable with the older man and unfamiliarity of the situation. though you were sure he had no ill intentions, (were you?) you were rather put off by his use of such an intimate name. after all, you were a teenager; very obviously one, too.

“please, miss! you look –”

you stumbled into a hard surface, warmth seeping into your back, an oomph leaving whatever it is that you crashed into.

you spun on your heel, whipping your head up to look at – peter parker. oh, just the person you needed to see, you thought, sarcasm pounding your head. your gaze shot from man to boy, as if unsure where to focus. you were jet-lagged, disoriented, and maybe a little creeped out.

setting your eyes on peter, you tried to channel your feelings of long (momentary) suffering through the irises. though, in all honesty, you probably looked like a drunken madwoman. but when your e/c eyes met his, the honey-brown so enchanting, you felt a little more secure. it wasn’t quite a warm, safe blanket; after all, you didn’t really know the boy. you’d only watched him from afar. stuffing books in his locker (they often fell out), sneakily mixing chemicals in the lab (you could never tell what, exactly, it was), tapping his foot to taylor swift songs when he thought so one was looking.

yeah, you were smitten.

“sorry mister;” came his wavering voice, “she’s got me!”

sorry? you ‘got him?’ needless to say, you were baffled. never had you ever spoken to the brunette, yet he was acting as if you were the best of pals. you gave him a quizzical look, nearly crossing your arms. but the silence, the bothered look on the elder’s face, had you playing along. “pete!” you choked out, the nickname forcing itself through your teeth, “i was looking everywhere for you.”

“i was down by the – the docks,” he quipped, scratching the nape of his neck. he – rather reluctantly – placed his palm on your shoulder. Though his composure was stiff, and his acting skills horrible, you had no other choice.

feigning annoyance, you crossed your arms, thick brows knitting. “you could’ve answered my texts!” for the fun of it, you fished your cell phone from your back pocket, swinging it between your fingers.

he huffed, tapping his foot. now you were really getting into it, the little squabble. “my phone was dead! you try replying to messages with a pitch-black screen?”

the two of you shot back and fourth for god knew how long, pointing, grumbling, and prodding at each other. To the two of your, your humorous scene was only a few moments long. but, by the time you’d calmed down, laughter at the tips of your tongues, the man had drifted away. last you had checked, he was staring down the two of you with awe and anger, mouth opening and closing each time there was a heartbeat of silence, as if to interject.

the giggles finally bubbled up, leaving your lips in a string of gurgles as you attempted to suppress them. your newfound travel companion, upon hearing your racket, couldn’t help but explode. Peter doubled over, clamping a hand to his mouth, as if to stifle his guffaws; but, it was no use. both of you look utterly insane, like drugged maniacs.

but he thought your laughter was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard.

though, you didn’t know that. you were convinced that you sounded like a crow that had just drunken twelve bottles of whiskey. plus, you were too busy admiring his joy, through the whisps of hair that fell into your face as he chuckles subsided.

you averted your eyes, pupils refusing to shrink back. “thanks. for helping me back there, i mean. that guy was … something.”

he nodded in agreement, a boyish, lopsided grin plastered to his face. “oh, um, anytime!”

you suspected he would be on his way. that he’d turn around, and you would be left alone again.

instead, he analyzed you, head to toe; the hydrangea-print top, the sun-kissed cheeks and nose. you thought you looked like a sloppily put-together mess, but peter thought you looked dream-worthy. “i didn’t know you knew who i am.” he said once he collected his thoughts.

you blinked, your only sign of surprise, ‘till you spoke. “who doesn’t know peter parker? you’re basically the only reason our decathlon team wins every show-down. smartest guy we know!”

was that too much? perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. you only just topped yourself before you could have slipped out something along the lines of, plus, you’re gorgeous. very handsome. i like to watch you in class, you’re so pretty.

but, even when he wore an embarrassed blush on his cheeks, his grin grew impossibly wider, his chest puffing in pride. “i mean – i try. not the smartest, though. try mr. stark. he’s a real genius,” he rambled. “and, hey, you’re pretty smart, too. mrs. warren seems to like you! you always get good grades in her class.”

“you notice?” you rose a brow.

“well, i sit directly behind you, so it’s kind of hard not to listen to it. that’s the only reason. it’s not like i’m a stalker or anything!”

of course, he wasn’t watching you because of some feelings. it was just by chance. if you sat at the opposite end of the room, he probably wouldn’t even know that you’re in his class, for thor’s sake.

needless to say, you were butthurt. but you couldn’t let it show through.

even so, you only found the strength to nod, watching the waters of venice ripple. how could you have gotten your hopes up? you rubbed your arms, droplets of the rivers spraying them with each crash of the tides. you hated the silence. it was your chance; your chance to prove that you were worth becoming friends with. but your awkwardness, your shyness, kept you from saying a word.

you looked up at his face, expecting him to be looking right back – but instead, those puppy eyes were glued elsewhere, to the dark wood planks at your feet.

maybe, he was as nervous as you were.

you cleared your throat, shifting your posture a few more times than it would be, if you were casual. “you haven’t got anyone else, or any plans right now … right?” you tried, foot tapping.

“No, no no!” he quickly ushered, hands that were once behind his back now set in a defensive position. “none at all. i just wanted to walk around, y’know?” he bit his already rouge lips, the action only emphasizing the color in his face. “d’you want to join me? if you don’t, that’s fine! i mean, we only just really met, and it might seem kind of weird. not that i’m weird. am i? i don't think so, i just –”

oh, you were helpless for this man. the way he went on a tangent, deep eyes sparking, you had fallen far before you could really acknowledge it. your stomach was doing summersaults, head feeling light, but not quite dizzy. when were you going to wake up from this dream? you wanted to pinch yourself.

“oh, no, i’d love to . . weirdo,” you added with a quick wink. you weren’t flash, after all; you’d never intentionally bully the poor guy.

peter shook his head, curls bouncing as his face contorted further into a content happiness.

you slipped your phone into the front pocket of your jeans, slipping past him to launch into a slow stroll. you almost instinctively reached out a hand for him to take, as though to guide him, but you pulled away as quick as it came up.

the two of you were oh-so close, shoulders nudging every so often as you walked. it wasn’t always this way; at first, you’d been feet upon feet apart. but as you spoke, you seemed to gravitate towards the enter – or, towards each other.

“but, blueberry pie has such a good balance of sweetness, and the texture is so much more . . it’s just nicer!” you insisted, upon peter bringing up his favorite pie.

“but –” he countered, “that place down the street from delmars? best cherry pie ever.”

you shrugged, mocking offense. “well, i’ve never had it! how should i know?”

he scoffed, hand to his heart. “fine. when we get back from europe, first thing we’re doing? i’m taking you there. and ordering two slices of cherry pie, extra ice-cream.’

if we even make it that far, you wanted to mutter, but held your tongue. instead. you jabbed at his shoulder. “yeah, yeah. i’m holding you to that.”

your bantering, since the little skit you put on, never seemed to stop. but your differences never made your heart beat less for him; it only made you more curious. one of the most interesting, being his view on heroes in comparison to yours.

“i appreciate them; i do,” you had said, “but they can’t save us all. kids still go missing. murders still happen. it’s impossible to stop.”

“but they try! they’re humans, too,” he countered. though his tone was harsher than you were used to, you didn’t miss the kindness, the understanding, in his eyes.

“i know,” you said softly. “but – they always say they’re going to ‘save everyone.’” you paused, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “it’s – it’s why i like spider-man, actually.”

you found it curious, how his eyes widened, and his cheeks grew crimson. “what do you mean?” he squeaked out.

“well; he’s not like those other heroes. he looks out for all of us. robberies, drunk drivers … stuff that most of the avengers wouldn’t bother watching out for. i admire him.”

“somebody’s gotta watch out for the little guys,” he murmured as if you couldn’t hear. and those words, stuck in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

somebody’s gotta look out for the little guys, huh?

italy, 6:34 p.m.

it was dusk, by the time you had left again. hours before, peter parker had walked you to your hotel, where you weren’t surprised to find betty missing. likely with ned, peter had scoffed. you nodded, shrugging. at least you has some peace to yourself. you had shared an awkward moment before he left; he had gone in for a side-hug, while you had expected a full-on one. this had both of you struggling to find a comfortable way to meet, before you settled on a less-than-shitty … fist bump. yeah. a fist bump.

you groaned at the memory, shaking your head. you needed something to clear your head. and that ‘something’ was a boat ride!

you wove through the busy streets, eyes glued onto the boat-stop, humming with delight as you watched one pull into view and –

“rose, lovely?”

you jolted once more, struck into reality as a man in a cap resembling a beanie held out a singular red rose. you shook your head, cursing yourself for not avoiding the packed walkways.

“american, yes?” he tried again, signaling the flower in his hand with the dip of his head.

opening your mouth to offer a curt reply, you instead felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “um – hi, sorry to interrupt, man. y/n?”

you quickly spun to see peter parker behind you, yet again. “peterrr … hi!!” you quipped, a fake grin splat on the panes of your face.

“hey,” he smiled back, sliding his fingers from your shoulderblade to your hand, entwining them with yours. “let’s get our boat, yeah?” he gave your hand a gentle tug towards the dock, his other occupied with a small pale bag, making a point to raise the one holding yours just enough for the capped boy to see. and, though you shouldn’t have, you squeezed his palm just a little tighter. to remind the fluttering of your heart, that it was real.

when you sat on the slick bench of he raft, peter, alarmed by the pools of water on said bench, shrugged his jacket off, swiftly placing it where you were aiming just before you took your seat. you gave him a quizzical look, to which he replied, “i just – i just didn’t want your jeans to be ruined! they’re pretty.” his voice wavered, soft.

his little display of respect had you over the moon. and though everyone else was out of sight, you hadn’t let go. side by side, hands clasped, the two of you seemed to look opposite ways. you towards the city lights, and peter towards the open waters. but, in reality? you were looking at each other when the other turned away. it was like a game of whack-a-mole, to catch one another red handed. the few times your eyes met, you felt your skin ignite.

the entire ride, not a word was exchanged. but you never moved away. you would feel the occasional squeeze to your hand, which you would respond with one of equal gentleness. They seemed to communicate, ‘is this okay?’

it was short, sweet, the crossing not lasting anything more than ten minutes. when you stepped out, you seemed frozen. his irises, illuminated by fairy lights, were so sweet, like pools of milk chocolate.

but, nothing good lasts forever. the worker on the boat coughed once. twice.

right; money.

you slid your hands into your pockets, grabbing from your wallet … but the boat as gone as soon as you looked back up. peter was sliding a wrecked, leather-bound square back into his pants. you sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. “oh, please. you couldn’t have let me pay you back at least once?”

“pay me back for what?” he asked innocently.

you scoffed, dropping the wallet back where it came. “yeah, yeah, mister hero …” you shook your head, though you could feel tingles of a smile warping the edges of your lips. he had let got of your hand to pay, and though it did not find yours again, you could feel the ghost of his touch linger on your skin. “we have got to stop meeting like this,” you added, referring to the assistance he offered you. two times, now, had he led you away from odd men in this foreign land.

peter shrugged, fiddling with the handle of his paper bag. “at least i means we meet, somehow.” though his words came off as casual, there was a strain in his voice. as if he wanted to say more. “besides; if i didn’t turn out, where else would you be?”

rolling your eyes, your eyes followed the sun, watching it sink below the horizon. “i had it covered …” but, upon seeing his face drop a fraction, you felt yourself soften like warm wax. “okay, maybe i didn’t. you saved my ass, i admit it.” you rose your hands in surrender, a tight-lipped beam lighting your face.

he seemed to perk right up, like a dog receiving praise, posture straightening with delight. you could practically envision a wagging tail.

and you didn’t mind it, when your fingers drifted into his once more as you led each other back to where your class was gathered.

italy, 2:12 a.m.

you kicked your feet beneath the thick bedsheets, the absence of your friend hitting you like a ton of bricks. originally, the two of you planned to stay up late in face-masks, drinking smoothies and eating chocolates. but, where was she now?

with her new boyfriend, obviously. and thor knew how the hell betty managed to sneak into his room.

actually – never mind. your teachers were too much of a deadbeat, to pay attention to the lot of you the middle of the night.

you wrestled with the duvet for a few more moments, both hot and cold wrecking your body. blanket on? too hot. blanket off? too cold. how did people even manage, in such conditions?

you felt your feet touch the fuzz of your slippers as you swung up, laced night-dress crinkling against linen. you wanted to sleep, so badly, yet it never came. each time you closed your eyes, stars would appear, and you would replay your walk home with peter in your head. it was all so strange. you had met only today, really, and it felt like he was your ‘soulmate.’

or, maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that things could work out between you and the coffee-eyed boy.

you kicked your legs, emitting soft thuds to the mattress, unsure of what to do. you’d tried listening to ambience between the time of 1:34 to 1:56, but that didn’t seem to work, though it often times did. you also attempted the classic, ‘counting sheep.’ but, when does that ever really work. you even got so distracted, that you had begun to name the damned sheep that were jumping over your little imaginary fence.

your personal favorites were sir mcwooly and baaa-rney.

toddling over to the small desk by the hotel’s queen’s bed, you rubbed your arms, feeling the goosebumps spiking up on your skin. you sat on the swiveling chair, the small lamp as blinding as the sun when you turned it on. you seethed, squinting as you made a grab for the miniature sketchpad and pen assortment you had packed

you scribbled away, filling pages with tiny stars, before your hand began to flow out portraits of your friends. first, betty; with her shining blonde hair, her sugar-sweet grin. you doodled her and ned, despite the small crack in your heart at the thought of them so happy together. you drew them on the flight together, when you had been kicked out your seat to sit behind them, watching the new couple giggle through the cracks. you added little notes, complaining about their mushiness, about how empty they made you feel.

Needless to essay, the page was ripped from the booklet.

your pen found it’s way to paper once again, this time, the lines forming the familiar silhouette of peter. you started with his doe-brown eyes, making emphasis on the shining in them, the familiarity. though you enjoyed drawing each part of him, something about those eyes had you grounded to them. and it showed; when you were finished – or, more specifically, you noted how cliche you were acting – anyone could see the emphasis you’d placed on his irises. darker than all else in the portrait, white cut-outs of hearts and stars, if you looked close enough, bright against the ink.

you shook your head, gingerly, not to break the paper, tearing the page from the notebook. you set it aside, atop your previous project. the cold was getting to you; you were shaking like a wet dog, and, god, did you feel like you were sick. the small blotches of pen-gel on your hands didn’t help the look. it was like you were catching the plague.

padding for the suitcase propped against the wall, you dug through it, slipping a alpaca-fur sweater over your head. it would leave a mess of hairs, later, but in the moment, it was worth the suffering.

only issue was, your hands were still cold as ever. but you knew just what to do.

italy, 2:59 a.m.

the aroma of milk chocolate wafted through the room, the small kitchen’s floorboards creaking as you twirled and bobbed your head like a bird. you had your earbuds shoved deep into your ears, ramones blasting through the tiny speakers. you were careful to avoid the odd, slimy bits in the floor. though venice was a beautiful city, your academy didn’t seem inclined on letting the lot of you stay in a nice hotel.

whatever; the trip was free, anyways. you’d take what you could get.

you dipped your spatula into the thick, italian-style cocoa, buzzing with delight as you licked a speck of the liquid from your finger. heavy, yet delicious. even just a drop, was like a cup’s worth of flavor of those sad, little packets of hot-chocolate at home.

you poured a bit of the mixture into a small mug, surprised to find a good half of it left in the pot. you groaned, realizing that you did not, in fact, have a personal fridge to store the drink in for later. and you didn’t trust anyone from your class to not steal it from the hotel’s storage unit, if you chose to keep it there.

you’d have to gulp down the whole damned container. it was like sipping on melted-down icing.

you absent-mindedly poured the rest into a matching cup, grumbling at the spare dish you’d clean. you whispered the lyrics to the song playing through your ipod, foot tapping – rather noisily – on the old wood planks.

but, your peace was short-lived.

a small voice seemed to echo you, repeating the very lyrics you thought only you could hear. you pulled one of the buds out, head whipping about until you came face-to-face with peter, who was leant against the cracked doorframe, muttering to the very lyrics you were whispering.

you froze up, quarter-full pot in hand. like a deer in the headlights. “a ramones fan?” you squeaked out as soon as you remembered that you had a voice.

“yeah – yeah. they’re cool,” he replied with equal eagerness. though he made an attempt to look casual, the constant shift in position and blush staining his cheeks opposed it. “how many song d’you know?”

“not many. this just showed up on my playlist, i guess,” you clarified, not quite meeting his gaze.

“oh! that’s fine. music is kinda subjective. and the ramones aren’t exactly in style now, so –”

you cut the poor boy off with a chuckle, holding out a cup of chocolate to him. “now, don’t undermine your tastes over me. hell, i’d be happy to listen sometime.”

“really?” the panes of his face seemed to heighten with joy. “awesome. people don’t usually .. they don’t tend care about that, y’know?”

you nodded, letting go of the mug as he took hold if it’s handle, fingers brushing yours with a spark. “it’s the little things that matter, though. i mean, imagine having someone who just knows everything about you like that?”

he gazed into the cup with wonder, as if pondering your words. “yeah … i mean. it would be easier than having to explain every little thing to ned,” he stuffy joked, scratching at his neck (again; a habit, it seemed) as if there was a switch to turn his awkward energy off.

you gave a polite giggle, leaning over the dusty counter, drink in hand. this silence seemed to be a reoccurring thing between the two of you. you would look anywhere, but each other, until you caught one-another red handed in the act. each time your eyes met, you melted a little, seeing the warmth behind them. and a sprinkle of something else. something dark. lonely. sad.

peter cautiously swiped a tinge of chocolate from the inner rim of the pot, tasting it, with a hum of approval. he took a soggy paper towel off the rack, wiping his fingers free of the sweet treat, before clearing his throat once. twice.

you looked back up, watching him frantically digging through the pockets of his jeans; front left. front right. back left. back right.

… the item he was looking for was, actually, in his hoodie.

when he at last came across it, a wide grin spread across his face, a depiction of relief. you caught a glimpse of red, shining against the soft light of the kitchen lamp.

“turn around?” he pleaded, fiddling with … whatever it was.

though you weren’t sure if you could trust it, the innocent, hopeful look on his face had your knees weak. so you obeyed.

you nearly gasped as you felt warm, calloused hands caress your neck, shifting your hair over your right shoulder. and as, in contrast, a cool metal chain was placed around your throat. as he clasped it together, he seemed to linger there, hands unnecessarily raking through your strands.

not that you minded.

you took the jewelry – a necklace – between your fingers, heart puddling to find a rose made of red glass resting on your skin. “oh, pete … why?”

“i just – i-admire-you, you-know? i-mean,have-you-seen-how-you-work-in-decathlon? or-how-you-help-mrs. warren, even-though-she-can-be-a-little … difficult. not-that-she’s-bad! no! and, um. you’re-gorgeous. not-in-a-creepy-way, but – still. yeah.”

boy, was he out of breath. you could barely understand a thing he said. “peter … i seriously didn’t catch a word of that. slow down, yeah?”

his cheeks grew scarlet as he nodded. “i was just saying that i, kind of, admire you i guess?”

you blinked, fingers that were fidgeting with the bud now frozen. “you admire me? peter parker? well, i must’ve done something right,” you laughed – not quite understanding that his words were, actually, a confession, and not words similar to that of a student and a mentor.

you didn’t catch the grimace of disappointment that passed over his face.

“right … yeah. of course,” he assured, taking a large step back. did your breath smell? you pondered, shoulders tensing. but he only padded to the spare cup, giving you a look of inquiry – to which you nodded – as he picked the ceramic up, taking a swig from the thick drink. you grinned as he pulled away from the mug, upper lip lined with deep brown.

“you’ve got something there,” you quipped, jutting your chin towards his face. he took a swipe at his mouth, missing the small puddle by an inch or two. again. again. by the time he’d given up, you were struggling not to spill your hot chocolate as you guffawed. you tip-toed to his silhouette, napkin in hand, and quickly swiped the dessert off his skin. “there, dork. all fixed up,” you declared.

the smile on his lips quivered, as though to keep it from turning into a full-on, toothy smirk. you lingered, body soaking up the heat radiating off of him. how you longed to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. and oh, gods, how he smelled. warm apple pie, laced with fresh rain.

you wondered if he tasted just as sweet.

but you couldn’t think that way. you shouldn’t have. what you wanted, what you knew, was nothing more than a fantasy. you only ever watched peter parker from the sidelines. hell, you didn’t know what his favorite food was. his favorite colors. all you knew was his favorite subject, how he tugged at his curls while we was stressed. the way he bounced his leg as your teacher spoke, pink lip tugged between his teeth. though, you could never really tell if he was really focusing; the boy’s eyes were always glossy, clouded. like he wasn’t really there. at this point, you were confident he lived inside his laptop screen.

except for the fact that he answered every damned question he was asked.

seriously, it had you rethinking your own intellect.

you didn’t grin back, your own foolishness taking a toll on your mood. you stumbled your way to the sink, his heat leaving your body feeling empty. setting your mug down with a clunk, you couldn’t meet peter’s curious gaze. “i’ve – got to sleep. early day tomorrow, yeah?” your voice was weak, no matter how hard you tried to bring humor to it.

and as you tuned to leave, what you didn’t catch, was the crushed look on your love interest’s face.

the moment you had reached your hotel, you were rather dejected to see betty missing. you scoffed, face-planting on your side of the queen-sized bed, right hand unconsciously shooting up to protect the glass art around your neck from the harsh impact. you gripped it just a fraction tighter as you sighed into the pillows, the heaviness of silence dragging anxiety from the depth of your heart.

it took you a few minutes, to find the strength to get up. but when you did, you slipped into a silken night gown, wrapping your skin in a thick robe to protect it from the cold air. your face was slathered in a gray mask, hair pushed back by a baby-blue headband. you could feel the clay on your face drying, sending a strange tingling sensation through your flesh. ick.

your eyes welled with disappointment as you stared at yourself in the mirror. were you selfish, for wanting your best friend back? you were supposed to be doing this together, face-masks and all. but instead, you had been abandoned for some guy. you blinked back your worries, determined not to let your sullied mood ruin your almost perfectly dried clay. instead, you took a deep exhale, eyes trained on the knob of the hotel’s front door.

it was as if you had summoned it with your eyes; a sharp, quick knock at the dead of night.

you blinked, almost confident that you had been hearing things. but it came again, once. twice. three timed, before you approached it, scowling. if she was going to stay so long with her boyfriend, why come back now?

“you should have just stayed where you were,” you bit out as you swung the door wide open, huffing. your voice was venom, and deep down, you were sure you’d overreacted. but you were hurt. “really, bett! it’s – what – three in the –”

were betty’s eyes always such a deep shade of brown? you didn’t remember her hair being so short.

oh.

you blinked back your angry tears, wishing you could take each little word back. you’d been a fool, for lashing out at your friend – much less, the wrong one. you rubbed your eyes, barely missing the crusted clay inches beneath. “peter?” you coughed.

“bad timing?” he swallowed, taking a step back from the door; an offer to leave, if you so chose. you felt your heart crack, just a fraction, as you shook your head quickly, opening your door a bit wider.

“more like, bad situation,” you shrugged, far too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “what . . .” you continued, “what are you here for?”

peter’s mouth pinched, as if he was thinking carefully for his next line of words. “i got kicked out,” he finally admitted, a sheepish grin pulling at the panes of his face. “betty took my side of the bed, and i didn’t really want to listen to them flirt all night.”

you giggled, a warm rush coating your skin as you nodded. “you should have seen them earlier,” you replied, spirits lifted with his caring presence. “i couldn’t even get a hold of the girl, for god’s sake. she’s infatuated.” you took a deep breath. the memory wounded you, but it felt nice – to laugh about it with someone who understood. “did you . . want to come in?” you finally asked after a heartbeat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. you looked like a grizzly bear, in your fluffy turtleneck and your dark clay mask.

but he didn’t seem to mind. hell, little did you know, he thought you looked beautiful. sure, he enjoyed watching you from his seat in chemistry. enjoyed gazing at you as you bit your lip while working through an equation, or how you raked your hand through your hair idly, when your fingers had little to do. but above all, he enjoyed this the most. you, in your rawest, most natural state.

“yes. yes, please,” he quipped, slipping past you, into your dimly lit hotel. you trailed after him, the air far heavier than it had been moments ago. what were you to do? the boy you’d been eyeing for ages now stood in the center of your room, looking lost and helpless.

sucking on a tooth, you sighed, “just . . . sit, yeah?” you pulled out the office chair to your right, rolling it just behind him, like the gentleman (gentlewoman, you supposed) you were. “i’ve got to wash this—“ you gestured to your skin, caked in product, “—off my face.”

you excused yourself with a forced grin, despite the butterflies in your stomach. even if you were happy, you were far more bashful than anything else. you gazed into the mirror as you shut the bathroom door behind you, noting the texture of your skin, the dryness of your lips, the bags beneath your eyes. you looked like the devil herself, ruined and exhausted.

you gently scrubbed the mask off, turning the mini-towel you had brought a light grey, so as not to irritate your skin. you didn’t want to teeter out looking like a seeded strawberry.

once your skin shone with water, not a trace of dirt beneath, you dug through your bag for a plethora of items; chapstick, moisturizer, a nightgown, a hairbrush . . . it took you little over twenty minutes, to took anything like the girl you were, this morning.

slipping out the washroom, you tugged at the sleeves of your nightgown, the beige a contrast to the deep red trousers he had chosen.

“so!” you clapped, falling back onto the plush mattress of the hotel bed. “you can take the bed, and i will take the . . . couch.” though it was soggy, and looked a strange color, you couldn't bear the guilt of making him sleep on it. he’d already been kicked from him own room, for christ’s sake.

you had expected relief to wash over his face, but instead, he panicked. “no. no! i can’t let you do that,” he gave you a pointed look, his eyes darting between the cushions and you. “i intruded. i’ll take the couch,” he announced, sitting up a bit straighter.

you were having none of it. “oh, please. you cured my loneliness. i wasn’t the one who got kicked out of my own hotel, was i?”

the brunette’s lips tightened, as though he was about to give in. you watched him hopefully, your tummy fluttering with absolutely glee as a sigh loosened. “yeah. yeah, okay.” he broke out in a grin, and though it looked sweet . . . mischief lurked beneath it. “if,” he continued, peter’s nervous aura replaced with a sly air, “and only if you’re willing to share. i know those couches suck, probably full of germs and mold . . .”

you cringed, remembering the soggy floorboards and furniture of the foyer. did you really want to sleep on . . . that? you could already feel the stale, reeking water encasing your arms. shaking your head, you finally replied. “you’re . . . awfully stubborn. fine. only because i can’t stand the smell.”

the boy before you, however, seemed taken aback, cheeks glowing a red hue. had he not expected you to agree? you stifled a giggle behind a cough, padding to the bed, testing the springs of the mattress with your fingers. “are you tired?”

“very,” he admitted, wincing. “being out all day . . . yeah.”

“right.” guilt washed over you. it was your fault, wasn’t it? you had wanted to explore, and he complied, for your benefit. you sat, patting the space to your right. “please, sleep. i’ll be in soon! i just need to text bett.”

he looked up at you curiously, honey-brown eyes sparkling in the dim light.

you giggled, resisting the urge to ruffle his already-messy hair. “i don’t want her coming back in te morning to a boy in my bed, with no explanation.”

“oh. oh.” his expression as it kicked in, had you rolling. he was distressed, burning up, his words incoherent and quick as lightning. you – gently – slapped his shoulder.

“get your mind out of the gutter, and go to bed,” you ordered, leaping to your feet to retrieve your phone. you could hear the rusting of duvets and sheets, as he settled in. and only then, did you let yourself really think. you had just invited your gods-forsaken crush to sleep in your bed. with you in it. you were so wound up in nerves, you didn’t even text your friend. you doubted she’d even come back, anyways.

so you simply stood there, for a few minutes, simply . . . watching. watching the way his lashes fluttered, the pattern of his breathing. he fell asleep widely fast, already steady and deep in his dreams. you tip-toed back, until you were slipping into the now-warmed cotton, humming in content. the sound of his breaths, his subtle heartbeat, lullied you to sleep like a sweet song.

the last thing you felt, that night, were his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

italy, 9:34 a.m.

it was cold, when you woke up. freezing, in fact. that human warmth from the night before . . . it was gone, but what did you expect? a romantic morning-after scene? you two hadn’t even kissed for christs sake.

you laid there, feeling defeated. had you just made things awkward, between the two of you? would you ever get to speak to one another again, or would he avoid you? but, eh wasn’t like that, was he? no, he was kind, and sweet. and he wanted to share, no? he offered, and you accepted. he couldn’t do this to you.

almost an hour passed before you got up, soles of your feet warm against the ice-cold flooring.

and that’s when you saw it. a single note, crumpled and messy, on your nightstand, amongst the pile of drawings – a few missing, you noticed. his.

oh, shit.

you picked up the sheet of paper, eyes scanning the pages, reading each syllable aloud to yourself.

“you know, it’s rude to draw someone without showing them. i’m awfully offended, and am keeping these!

. . . not because i don’t like them. i love them. a lot. god, you’re talented. they’re cute.

i would have stayed. i wanted to. but i had an emergency, from mr. stark, and didn’t want to wake you with a call, y’know? please don’t be upset. i liked last night. i haven’t slept so well, in a while. maybe it’s a sign we should do it again? if you wanted? maybe?

– peter.”

perhaps this trip wasn’t so bad, after all, you decided as you tucked away the sheet. you’d keep it forever, if you could.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #peter parker x you #tom holland

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f10werfae · 2 years

Text

Heart Warming *☁️

Pairing: Husband! Henry Cavill x Wife! Reader

Word count: 884

Summary: Things get a bit hot when Henry uses his magical methods to comfort Y/n ;)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Warnings: C*ckwarming

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Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

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(Henry's P.O.V)

The air was chilly now that it was around 8pm, having finished my press for today I was just excited to be back home. With Y/n.

Walking in through the front door, I was met with silence and most of the lights had been turned off. With my jacket now off along with my boots, I set my keys down by the front door and ventured up the stairs where the only source of light was coming from.

As I reached the top of the flight of stairs, slight sobs and sniffles filled my ears, breaking my heart instantly. With the bedroom door already cracked open, I could already see Y/n hugging Kal in our bed, sobs wrecking through her body.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Pushing through the door, I rushed to her side of the bed looking down at her.

Softly running my hand down the back of her head, I felt her nuzzle into my touch, her glossy eyes now looking back at me.

“What’s got you all bugged love?” I bent down so I could level with her. My heart ached watching the woman I love be visibly upset, especially since she’s so precious to me.

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Feeling Henry brush his hands through my hair, a sense of comfort instantly filled me.

“What’s got you all bugged love?” He asked tenderly, squatting down to look at me.

“Dunno. Jus' feeling upset is all”

I replied back, my voice now sounding hoarse and croaky.

“Having one of those off days aren’t you baby? Well that’s okay, I know how to make you feel better” Henry said back softly, reaching out his hand towards me, he helped me get out of bed. His stature now towering over me as he held my hand tightly, leading us both down the flight of stairs.

“Hen do we have ice cream” Henry nodded and walked off towards the freezer, not without kissing my nose first and giving me one of his star smiles.

Picking up the carton of vanilla ice cream, we ended up situated on the living room couch, some random movie he put on was playing in the background.

“Get on my lap pup” With his hand bringing one of my legs over his lap, so now I was straddling him, the ice cream in his hands as he fed me spoons every few seconds.

“I can feed myself you know?” I laughed slightly at the way he was babying me, “I know you can, doesn’t mean I can’t look after you, just let me take care of you”

(Henry's P.O.V)

With the Ice cream now on the coffee table,

Y/n had nestled herself into my chest, her eyes focused on the T.V screen.

When all of a sudden I felt her hips move against mine, a small whimper coming out of her mouth.

Feeling myself start to get hard, a smirk crept onto my face as she held tightly onto the shirt I was wearing.

“What are you doing princess?”

“N-nothing”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Look at me” With my hand going under her chin to tilt her head towards me, her eyes lidded as if she was drunk.

“Do you need me to comfort you yeah? Fill you up nice and good, keep you warm”

“Mhm”

“Sorry my love, I need words”

“Yes, fill me up bear, please”

Putting her to the side a second, I pulled down my sweatpants just enough for her to be able to pull out my hardened c*ck. Pulling her back onto my lap, I bunched up my shirt that she was wearing, pushing her thong to the side.

“You ready?” I asked, rubbing it up and down her slit, watching her body shiver in response. Once she nodded, she slowly slid herself onto my c*ck, a moan leaving through her rosy, kissable lips.

Within seconds, her hands had gripped onto my shoulders, her lips pushed onto mine as I bottomed out inside of her.

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Henry kissed me softly as his hands rubbed up and down my waist comfortingly.

“How do you feel baby?”

“So full Hen” I whispered out, my body craving his touch and love.

“You have to relax pup, or else this isn’t going to last long” He whispered into my ear, his hands rubbing my back as I nestled myself back into his chest.

Doing things like this always made us feel so much closer together on another level, I just needed to feel him, my husband.

(Henry's P.O.V)

Once she settled back into my chest, I felt her body start to relax in my arms as we stayed connected. Pressing kisses to the top of her head, I felt her sigh out and try to cuddle closer to me, if that was even possible..

Never in my life did I think I could love a person this much, she has my heart in the palm of her hands.

With her head resting on my bicep, her face was focused on the T.V, with the occasional whimper leaving her as I needed to readjust or when she clenched around me.

“Let me take care of you tonight okay?”

“I love you Henry” She whispered, placing a kiss onto my arm.

“I love you too baby, so much more”

#henry cavill rpf #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader #romance

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sciderman · 4 months

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Currently reading through the spiderpool blog and just finished the civil war era. That alternate timeline where Pete is an assassin, of course we know Ben is alive but what happens to that version Ben and May? I wonder if they know what he is doing and if they are still even apart of his life.

oh, anon. anon... it's a sad little tale,, it's a sad little story. i do imagine that this specific peter parker pursues his career of fame and fortune, and becomes vain and horrible. a real "talk to my agent!" kind of asshole.

and initially, he still cares for uncle ben and aunt may. they're the only two people in the world who loved him properly. but... but. fame goes to his head. the old cliché. he's making bank, and – there's less urgency for him to stay to support aunt may because uncle ben's still around, so, peter kind of goes his own way. very quickly he can afford his own apartment by doing tv deals and very quickly he's signed on for a movie deal. he is hot shit.

of course all of that fame and being so busy and being so secretive and spider-man's identity still being a secret to the public and to ben and may means that he ultimately grows distant from may and ben. he skips school to pursue fame, doesn't think he needs it. and i mean, the guy hates high school. it's a living hell for him. he's given an out - of course he'll take it. he doesn't graduate high school. doesn't get a college education. doesn't tell uncle ben and aunt may because obviously they wouldn't endorse him dropping out of school.

they wouldn't get it. they wouldn't understand. he becomes a mystery to them. they don't know where he goes, what's going on with him. he's barely home and then he, so very quietly, moves out with all the money he's made.

fame is fickle, though, and - spider-man doesn't capture peoples hearts for the long-term. spider-man doesn't inspire heroism in this world. he doesn't waste his effort on selfless deeds. he doesn't become a heroic figure. hence why wade doesn't join weapon x.

the spider-man of this turn of events doesn't amount to more than a quick cash-grab, and the people are over him so quickly. people who worked with him realise he's kind of a jerk, and isn't even pulling in money anymore. spider-man becomes a has-been before he even reaches his twenties.

so, this spider-man lives alone - can't face uncle ben and aunt may because he's quickly realising that yeah. he made the wrong choice. he dug his grave, and he has to lay in it. he's a drop-out, and he feels like peter parker is entirely worthless. he can barely look at himself in the mirror. at least as spider-man he has some power. some reputation. something. peter parker? peter parker disappeared off the face of the planet some years ago, and nobody knows who or where he is. peter parker is dead and neglected. there's no future for peter parker. so he builds a life with the skills that he has, as spider-man. he does what he's good at. becomes hired muscle. becomes hired muscle for anyone that can pay his rates. those are usually bad guys.

he falls deeper and deeper into that rabbit hole. and the further he falls, the harder it is for him to conceive he could ever come back to uncle ben and aunt may and have them welcome and accept him, with all the mistakes he's made.

unfortunately, in this particular timeline - as bex and i'd plotted it out for the alt!verse fic where wade winds up trapped with this sad, isolated peter parker - it still takes uncle ben dying to destroy peter's barricades and have him finally reach out to aunt may, in his way. first distantly offering her financial support before he, after months, eventually gains the courage to face her. and she can see the scars on his face.

i think it kind of universally takes uncle ben dying for peter to learn "great power great responsibility" - not as peter interprets or misinterprets it, but... the loss of uncle ben meaning peter recognising he has a responsibility to the people around him. he can't disappear from it. he can't isolate himself from it. when uncle ben passes, he finds out he has a responsibility to aunt may. that's kind of the whole thing, that's what great responsibility is. him filling uncle ben's shoes.

i think that's something i'm obsessed with - that peter knows that the loss of uncle ben means he needs to step up and fill ben's shoes, but he's still not entirely sure what it means. what he has to do to be able to fill that void that's left empty by ben's absence. what ben meant. what manhood means.

great responsibility is about manhood, and looking after the people you love. it's not - it's not about what you owe the world.

i think peter unfortunately has to learn that lesson the hard way, every time.

but, eventually, at some point, peter comes home.

#sci speaks #meta #ask-spiderpool #alt!peter #thank you so much for rereading anon!!!

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meiluu · 6 months

Text

Fight Our Battles

Peter Parker/ Female!Reader cw: Violence, reader gets hurt, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, fluff. lower-case intended, not edited can be viewed as any spider-man, but i personally imagined ps4/ps5 peter

what had started out as a regular saturday, with you and peter swinging through new york like any typical patrol around the city turned into something much more than either of you were ready for.

green goblin had escaped from the raft and was causing mayhem within the city, fires and ominous clouds of smoke and ash begin to engulf the city. and here you and peter are trying to get people to safety as well as deal with the goblin.

"Go after him! I've got the civilians!" peter whips his head to your direction, about to argue and say that you both need to stick together. shaking your head "I've got this go! I trust you spider-man!" your tone is final and peter reluctantly leaves you to pursue the goblin.

watching his retreating figure you focus your mind onto what's in front of you. webbing up unstable buildings, pulling people from fiery cars and rubble. stopping for moment to catch your breath you realize that this area is finally okay enough for you to leave it as first responders finally make it to the scene. using your in-suit tracker you quickly find peters location and hastily begin swinging your way there.

getting to peter your eyes immediately catch onto his much more battered form, there are cuts across his chest and through his emblem. but he seems to have the upper hand- having cornered goblin into a abandoned area of construction. quickly shooting a web you swing in, landing a harsh kick to the goblins face.

an enraged roar leaves him as his mask is flung off-wobbling on his glider. Then you see two webs sticking to either side of the goblin, and just as you see those webs you see peter slingshotting himself feet first into the goblins chest. the concrete behind him cracks and the goblin tumbles to the ground, his glider crumbling along with him.

with the goblins figure staying slumped upon the ground both your and peters shoulders slump in relief and exhaustion. then the sound of police sirens filter into the air as dozens of cop cars pull up, ready to detain the menace. "I have some of the anti-serum for him, its not permanent but maybe it'll help with keeping him in custody." peter voice is tired, as he makes his way over to you as you both scan each other for any lethal injuries. nodding you head you watch as peter begins to head towards a vial that was resting upon the ground. you suspected it had gotten flung out of his hand while he fought with the goblin.

then your senses begin screaming at you, BEHIND YOU!

you barely make out peters terrified scream of your name before the disgusting crazed green eyes of the goblin look up at you from the ground with one of his miniature bombs in his hand. then its dark.

the familiar sound of air whooshing past your ears along with searing hot pain across your abdomen is what wakes you from your sleep. "pete?" your words are moaned out in pain and confusion. "yeah its me- just hang on we are almost to the hospital. just stay awake for me please." your heart clenches at how desperate peter's voice is, you can do nothing but nod and bury your head further into his chest- hoping that the pain would go away if you did.

peters feet thump heavily into the ground when he finally lands in front of one of the hospitals in new york that was getting not as flooded with survivors from the attacks. and your heart clenches again at peter voice shouting out for help, "i need a doctor, please!"

there voices start to fade out, you catch how peter voice is a near roar as someone tries pulling off your mask. and it sounds like that person is then shoved away by what you assumed was dozens of nurses, he tells them to leave on your mask- but it sounded more like a command. the softness of a bed greets your back, peter having set you onto a gurney. nurses are putting an iv as the quickly roll you further into the hospital- eyes lids growing heavy you succumb to the sleep, hoping that when you awake the pain will be gone.

peter's pov.

if not for the mask every one within the waiting room would see my tears flowing feely down my face.

god how did i not realize the goblin wasn't knocked out, why didn't i web him up- how could i be so careless!?

and now you were in the operating room, were i hoped with all of being that you would be saved. looking down to my hands that lay limp to my sides i see- your blood smeared into the red of my suit. biting my lip to snuff out the sob that threatens to escape me. why wasn't it him who got hurt? why was it always someone else taking the blows for him?

i don't know how long i just stood there staring down the hallway that lead towards the operating room with you in it. but eventually the doctor how had pushed away that asshole who tried taking off your mask earlier- and had quickly let me know that he would be operating on you- made his way towards me.

quickly walking towards him, his face isn't sad or drafted instead a hopefully expression takes up his face. "she's ok, no major internal injuries surprisingly, but she has a bunch of stitches and will need to stay here for-" i don't let him finish before i'm tugging him into hug, "thank you, i don't- i, just thank you so much."

a soft laugh leaves the doctor, "with what you two do for this city everyday, there's no need for thanks. i should be thank you both for all the good you've done for this city and its people." stepping back from the hug a chuckle leaves me, "i guess we're at an impasse doc... but um- where is she?" he quickly gives me her room number, then i'm running there.

getting to your room, i see you. sleeping peacefully with your mask still covering your face, walking closer towards the bed i sit down in one of the spare chairs within the room. grasping your hand into mine my body finally begins to lighten as all of the accumulated stress begins to pour off of me. and with the comforting sound of your steady breathing i let myself drift off.

reader pov.

its been a few weeks since the goblins attack upon new york, his final one- with him succumbing to his wounds after setting off that miniature bomb. most of my stitches have been taken out and there only remains a very small scar from that day. and with the city repairing itself me and pete have taken a bit of a break from spider-maning... mainly because i needed to recover and peter hasn't want to leave my side. which i'm not complaining about but i can see how much that day hurt peter, though with each day that passes i see that darkness lighten.

and today i continue with that goal of lessening that darkness, having slept in with peter cuddled in your shared bed. gently i brush my fingers through his soft brown locks, "good morning pete." he buries his head deeper into my chest, you can feel him smile against your skin. "i think we are well past morning." an ouch leaves him with my pinch against the skin of his shoulder. "so technical." my tone teasing, a soft kiss is place against the side of my neck as peter raises his head to meet my gaze. beautiful hazel eyes that hold nothing but adoration within them. "good morning." sleep still hold onto his voice making it a bit huskier than normal, his plush lips are planting a sweet kiss against mine.

eyes instinctively shutting at the all to familiar sensation of butterflies within my stomach as my heart relishes in our shared affection. pulling away i bring my hand to his face, caressing his skin.

"i love you, so much peter." a radiant smile blooms across his face, "I love you too." looking into his gaze i'm pleased to find that some of that darkness has nearly disappeared. "you doin' okay pete?" he raises his eyebrow at my question, then lowers when he realizes what i'm asking about. "yeah.. i just- i nearly lost you. and i don't know what i would do if i lost you."

"i know i cant promise you but i will try with everything i have to never let that happen again." peters warm and muscled arms wrap around my torso pulling us chest to chest, with no space between us. "and i'll do the same for you, i never want you to feel what i felt that day."

and with those words peter buries himself further into our embrace, where we both lay relishing in each others presence. warmed by our bodies and the rays of the sun shining through our bedroom curtains, as we stay encased in our plush comforter.

a breath of relief leaves me, brain becoming flooded with peters comforting scent as my heavy heart lightens at our declarations to one another. together we would fight to make sure that both of us came home, make sure that we would have the rest of our live together and not apart.

(omg i just went into a crazed writing spree for like 2 hours, i wrote this at 4am-5am so sorry if there are parts that don't make sense. Hope you enjoyed this :D )

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