#tasm!peter parker angst

[lovelettersforthedamned]

on the prompt list 2 of angst "you're being mean." gives very much that little women scene but maybe with a happy ending cuz I wanna stay with Peter 🙏🙏🙏 I love that man - 🎀

Breathe

--genre: angst & fluff (at the end)

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

--word count: 1.3k

--warnings: language, reader has a slight panic attack, hyperventilating, peter is a big meanie in this, mention of wilson fisk (fuck that guy LOL).

--gif credits: @sincericida (aka the best)

At this moment, you wish you could time travel back to fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes ago, you were lounging on the couch. Fifteen minutes ago, you were in the middle of the TV show you’ve been binging for the past week. Fifteen minutes ago, you were at peace, sort of. 

Peter has been pushing himself past his limit for a while now. He would go out to patrol at night, come back well after midnight, and fall asleep on the couch. During the day, he’s off to work before you wake up. And if you do see him in the morning, he barely acknowledges your presence. Even though you two live together, it feels like you haven’t seen him in a few weeks. 

But now, you wish you didn’t see him tonight. His mood was sour as soon as he slipped through the window. He’s home early tonight. You look over to the clock beside you, the digital lines showing you that it was only eleven. You paused the show, calling out to him over your shoulder, “Hey, Pete! You’re home early.”

You were met with no response, only his heavy footsteps leading to your shared bedroom. You frown slightly as you rise to your feet, following him. He flips on the light when he enters the room, you gasp at the sight. He’s covered in dirt from head to toe, even some of it caking onto the grooves of his suit. 

He was holding his mask in his hand before he tossed it to the corner of the room. He starts to undress, and the more he pulls and pushes off his suit, the more you can see how blank his face is. He was standing in front of the mirror, but his eyes weren’t focused on anything. He just had this blank stare. 

You slowly walk up to him, before speaking, “Baby? Can I get you any water or anything?” Your tone was soft and cautious. You didn’t know what state he was in, the last time he was like this was a few years ago, right when he first started being the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’. Granted, you two were just friends at the time. It took him a while to come back to his normal self, but he was responsive throughout the entire time. And now, he still doesn’t answer you. 

You try again, “Hey, Peter…Let me help—”. 

“Fuck! No (Y/N), just get out! You’re starting to piss me the fuck off.”

A small gasp escapes your lips, as you take a step back out of surprise. He’s never yelled at you like this, but now that he has, you hated how it made you feel. Tears instantly well into your eyes as you try to maintain your composure. 

He’s now fully stripped from his suit, he leaves it on the ground when he starts to grab a change of clothes from the drawer next to him. You can’t help but look at his demeanor. He’s frantic and angry, and based on the slouch on his shoulders, he’s tired. You must’ve zoned out because Peter spots you still standing there looking at him, he walks over to you when he slips a shirt over his head. “Hey,” he is now directly in front of you, “are you stupid? I said, get—”. 

It’s you who cuts him off this time, you speak, still soft, “You’re being mean, Peter.” 

Now that Peter’s in front of you, he can see you clearly, his mind no longer jaded with the fog that came with patrolling. Your eyes are spilling tears down your cheeks while you try to hold back the sounds that come with sobs. It’s like Peter has been slammed with reality as soon as he made eye contact with you. And just like that, he realized what he said to you not even a minute ago. “Bug…I am so sorry,” he goes in for a hug, fully expecting to be met with your figure until you step back. 

He looks at you, your demeanor clearly shows that you don’t accept his apology just yet. “What has been going on with you these past weeks? Why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me, huh? Why!” You yell at him, your emotions coating your throat with anger. 

You can’t help but push at his chest with as much strength as you can muster. Of course, you at your strongest wouldn’t even leave a dent in Peter. Fuck his stupid super strength. Nonetheless, you still tried to hurt him the same way he did for weeks. Your cries echo off the walls. 

Peter hated seeing you like this, and it kills him to think that he was the one that caused this. He could see that you were draining yourself as you tried to punch and push him. He softly grabbed your wrists, pausing your movements, as you cried out, “You made–made me feel like I was invisible, and I hated that feeling Peter.” 

With Peter still holding you, you sink to the floor. Your body was exhausted. As you fell, Peter sank with you, making sure you didn’t hit the floor. Your breathing is still choppy, not quite catching a good breath, you could feel Peter push stray hairs that have fallen into your face behind your ear. 

“(Y/N), I am so sorry. Fisk has been fucking up my nights, and now my days. He’s getting closer and closer to you, and it scares the shit out of me, bug. I know that’s not an excuse for anything I’ve done or said to you, but please I need you to take a breath for me. Please,” his voice starts to shake as he opens up to you. 

It takes you a second before you can take a proper breath, Peter’s hand rubbing up and down your back as you do. His movements are slow as he takes his time with you. He’s trying so hard to make up for the time he’s spent avoiding you. He takes you all in, even in your current state. Peter can’t help but think about how stupid he’s been. He hasn’t even considered how you’ve been feeling while he thought he was protecting you. You had no idea. How could you? 

Once you’ve regained your breath, you look up at Peter, who has been looking at you this entire time. “Pete,” you start, holding his face, “you can’t leave me in the dark with these things. We’re a team. You can tell me when things get rough, baby. You don’t need to let it fester in your mind until something like this happens again. Let me help you, Peter. Let me in.”

With your hand still holding his cheek, he brings his own to hold it in place, sinking into your touch. He nods as tears prick into his eyes. “I’m sorry, bug. I am so fucking sorry,” his tears fall onto his cheeks as you wipe them away. 

You pull his forehead to touch yours, closing your eyes as you take a breath as he’s here with you, “We’ll figure this out. I promise you we will. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

You pull away from his touch, just to reconnect it through a deep kiss. You could taste the salt on his lips from the tears that made their way to them, but you didn’t care. Pulling away, you flash him a small smile, “I love you too.”

--author's note: okay pause, because this was supposed to be just a little blurb, but i couldn't resist. i am a huge sucker for angsty things, so i LOVED this. also, wanting to stay with peter is so real bc he's so bf coded...ANYWAYS thank you 🎀 anon for requesting yet another banger omg. my inbox/request are open!!! also my 200 follower celebration is ending soon, so send in those requests! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you love what you read. okay, ily bye<333

[sincericida]

I need peter parker angst fics I need soul r

Wrenching ones I can cry too cause therapy is too expensive to pay for so I've come to the master to ask for suggestions

You want fics of angst, pain and despair, my darling? Well, I have here suggestions from some of the best writers of the genre right here:

"The Thinks We Never Talk About" by @privateanxieties

It is, where “Peter shows up at the last minute and goes feral” by @mrshipsmcgee

"Hopeful" by @stresslessbaaby

The "Sugar And Vice" fic, by @liz-allyn

"Car Accident": part 1 and part 2 by @blooming-violets

"Only Love Could Hurt Like This" by @stylesparker

"The First Fall Of Snow" by @godlessandwrecked

"Labyrinth" by @corinthianism

"The Way I Loved You" and "Secret Ingredient" by @ficthots

"Honest" by @starsval

"Dancing On My Own": read first "the vision of the reader" and then "the vision of Peter", by @blooming-violets

"Hold my body tight even on my lowest nights; {p.p.}" by @venus616

"In a Corner I Haunt (Right Where You Left Me)" by @reidslovely

The "Heat Of The Moment" fic, by @liz-allyn

"CONNECTING ARTS" by @slytherheign

"Ties that bind" by @liz-allyn

The "Masterlist" of @rancidpancakebatter

The "Devil You Know" fic (read first) and the "Inner Demons" fic, both of @liz-allyn

"Florence" (masterlist) by @periprose

"I Would Wait Up Forever" by @novazhere

"A Moment In Time" by @andy-solo1

"Wander Streets at Night, Fighting Just to Breathe" by @prismatica-the-strange

"A wound like no other" by @privateanxieties

I hope you like my suggestions, and prepare your Kleenexs. 🥲

These are some. In case I forgot some that I don’t know and haven’t read yet - there's definitely, please, put them down here. It’s never too much to spread the word about Tumblr writers. 😚

[moonstruckme]

I love your works! If you're willing, can you write something about tasm!Peter just like finding out about reader's sh scars? I'm not sure if you've done this already or not and I'm going through a tough time so I just really want some Peter comfort 😭. If you're not comfortable that's totally understandable! Please don't feel pressured to do this ❤️

Thank you sweetheart, I really hope your tough time is getting a bit easier or does soon <33

cw: past self-harm

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 775 words

Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re comfortable enough around Peter to forget. Even though you’ve only been dating a few months, you feel (sappily) like you’ve known him for years. You just fit together. Going over to his place is like going to your parents’ house or your best friend’s; it’s already home for you, comfy and welcoming in a way that usually only comes with history. Peter feels like he was yours before you met him. 

That sense of familiarity is probably why you don’t think to be self-conscious. It’s the first day of the year that New York is warm enough to go out without a jacket, and you’re celebrating with a short-sleeved top and a skirt. Both thin and airy, perfect for the day you’ve planned at the park. Peter’s packing your lunches when you step out of the bedroom, feeling very cute. 

Your confidence is rewarded. Peter grins, mouth dropping open coyly, and whistles when you do a little twirl for him. 

“I’m gonna have to play interference between you and other guys all day,” he says, not sounding particularly unhappy about the prospect as he passes you your water bottle. “I filled this up so we have more than just soda, that okay?” 

“Good idea.” You nod, taking it and putting it in your bag. 

You look back up, and somehow your boyfriend’s mood has changed in the space of a second. A furrow has appeared between his brows, eyes stuck on where your arm brushes against the fabric of your skirt at your side. 

“What’s…” His brows twitch and he holds a hand out. “Can I see your arm?” 

You give it to him unthinkingly, an awkward sort of foreboding taking root in your gut. Peter holds it with extreme gentleness, rotating it so the delicate skin of your forearm is exposed to the light. It’s only then that you remember he might not know. His quiet inhale confirms it. 

“Sweetheart…” His thumb brushes over the scar nearest, and you can practically see his mind flashing through memories of long sleeves, dark nights in his bed, the way you’d insisted on changing in the bathroom when you’d first started staying over. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you’re not sure what for. For upsetting him, maybe. Even though it was inevitable. Honestly, your closeness with Peter had almost made you forget he hadn’t already seen them. He’s got to be the last person in your small circle of family and friends who hadn’t known. You’re not secretive about that part of your past. You blame it on the timing of your relationship; you’d started dating when the weather got cold, and it had just never come up. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he says softly, an automatic response to your chronic over-apologizing. “Can I just…can I ask when this happened?” 

“It was a long time ago,” you reassure him. “I haven’t done it for years.” 

His brown eyes flit up from your arm to meet yours. “Have you wanted to?” 

Your breath gets caught in your lungs. You hold his gaze. “Not for a while.” 

He exhales slowly, nodding. It feels odd to have your arm handled this gently. Peter’s always so kind with you, but the way he’s touching you now…it’s like he thinks the skin will break again if he’s not careful. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

You make a quiet, demurring sound. “For what?” 

“Just that I wasn’t there. I don’t like the idea of you hurting without me.” 

“Pete.” Your voice is gentle, chiding. “We didn’t even know each other back then.” 

“Exactly.” He releases your arm, hand moving to cup your face. “I just wish I’d known you, that’s all.” 

His eyes are soft on yours, unasking. Fond in a way that makes your throat clog. “You don’t have to worry about me,” you say. 

“I like worrying about you.” His mouth tilts upward, cupid’s bow stretching. “But if you don’t want me to worry about this, I won’t. Just…you’d tell me if anything changed, right?” 

“I would,” you say, relieved. His thumb strokes your cheek, and you lean forward, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Pete.” 

“For what?” He echoes your question from earlier, grin widening as he ducks down to press his lips to yours again. “I love you,” he mumbles, pecking playfully at your top lip, “so much.” He plants another where your cheek dimples. “You know that?” 

“Yeah.” You push up on your toes, backing him into the counter as your hand cups the back of his neck. The hair at his nape tickles your fingertips. “Yeah, I know.”

[moon-fics]

The Truth-Peter Parker

A/n: Ok, so the original angst fic I wanted to post is taking longer than I thought to finish. Here's a shorter angst-to-fluff fic that I think you'll enjoy!

Summary: Peter has been different recently and you don't like it.

Warning: Swears, Peter being stupid

Today is not your day, not even close. You realize that while staring down at the chapter text you didn't study for. You always tell yourself college grades are the most important thing in your life, but somehow you fucked this one up. Probably because your best friend has been on and off the grid for the past month.

You choose random answers for half a page, rubbing your forehead in frustration as the questions get harder. You glance over your shoulder to see Peter in the back of the class, practically breezing through the test. Of course, you aren't surprised seeing as he's already an expert in organic chemistry. You mentally curse him out for being smart enough not to study.

You still have five questions unanswered but at this point, you're at a low. With a deep breath you write down random answers you hope are bullshit enough to be accepted. You quickly stand from your chair, placing the test on the professor's desk. You get the shortest look at the class, half of them are already gone. You grab your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder. Right as you pass the professor's desk you hear shuffling from the very back, knowing it's Peter.

You don't spare him a glance, speeding up as you walk through the campus halls. You're about to turn the corner towards the exit when you hear footsteps gaining on you. You don't have to look to know who it is.

You push open the doors, heading straight to your car in hopes Peter doesn't reach you. Sadly, today is really not your day.

You only get halfway through the parking lot when he calls out to you. You can't pretend to not hear him because even a senile old man would. With a heavy sigh, you turn on your heel and watch him approach you.

"Hey, what's the rush?" He asks innocently, stopping a few feet in front of you. He hasn't even broken a sweat but he's breathing like he's run a mile. "I saw that you didn't do too well on the test." He tries to strike up a conversation.

"How would you know that? You were in the back of the class." You raise an eyebrow, genuinely wondering how he'd know that. You watch his face change as he tries to come up with a reason. It's either going to be a lie or he'll brush it off. That's what he's been doing recently, lying to you or avoiding you altogether.

"You left in a bad mood." He answers, shrugging his shoulders. You decide not to press further, knowing it'll lead nowhere. "You should have asked if you needed help, I could have rambled about organic chemistry until you'd become a secondhand expert!" This makes you lose your politeness.

"When could I have asked you?" You scoff, crossing your arms. "We barely talk and when I text you I get left on delivered." You point out with a frown. You could probably pull up his contact and scroll through the constant unanswered messages that are paired with random texts from him, usually at unreasonable hours. At one point you tried matching whatever sleep schedule he's on, but eventually had to stop for your sanity.

Peter nods his head, not defending himself. "I know I've been busy, I should have tried to talk to you more." He says in a genuine tone. He looks down at the asphalt, rubbing the back of his neck. You can't lie, even when you're close to ditching him in the parking lot, he looks good. "I promise that I'm not distracted anymore, I swear on my test score!" His eyes shift to look at you, his head ducked down a bit still. He looks adorable at that angle.

"And I'm supposed to care why?" You shift your weight onto one leg, the weight of your backpack making your back ache. A part of you wants to just forgive him and pretend like the past few weeks didn't happen, the other half wants to reject him and drive home.

"I was hoping we could hang out, you know like friends do." He chuckles. If his smile wasn't so perfect you'd call him insane, maybe even dramatically march away. Instead, you find yourself excited about the idea of spending time with him again. Your heart betraying your stubborn brain.

"And if I were to say yes, what would we do?" You enquire, pretending to not be interested. It's too bad you never made the starring role in any school plays.

"I'd order us pizza and invite you to watch a movie at my apartment." You've forgotten how much his internships are paying him, OSCORP definitely loves him. "I'll even buy those cupcakes you loved from that bakery." That catches your interest.

"Hmm, I'll have to see." You pretend to think, making him groan. You both know you're more than free, but you enjoy tormenting him. Honestly, spending time with Peter while eating free food is a double win. "I guess I'll do it." You relent, watching as his smile grows even more. You can see his eyes brighten once you agree, making your heart race.

"Perfect, Friday night at 6 o'clock!" He details, and you mentally note it. There's no way you'd miss it, not for the world.

-

It's pouring rain when you finally reach his apartment, you're dripping down the hallway. You know how to get to his apartment by heart having done it so much. The hallway filled with apartment doors is warm enough to keep you from shivering.

You reach his door, knocking a few times. You wait awkwardly, noticing how dead quiet it is. You hope he has clothes you can borrow so yours can dry, wet clothes are anything but comfortable.

You wait a few seconds before knocking again, still having hope about tonight. You assure yourself he's probably listening to music or in the shower. You send him a text letting him know you're outside.

After a few minutes, you call him, becoming impatient. The warmth of the hallway is no longer enough, your skin covered in bumps and your teeth chattering. There's no answer, you go straight to voicemail.

You don't want to believe he's not home. You try to come up with an excuse, anything that could stop the ache in your chest. However, you've been in this situation before. You know how tonight will end and it doesn't include free pizza and cupcakes.

You wait five more minutes before you have no patients left in you. You turn away from the door, heading back down the hallway, into the elevator, and back into the rainy night. On the way out you open his contact, sending one last message telling him to forget about it.

-

You wake up to the sound of your ringtone blaring in your ears. With a sleepy groan, you pick up your charging phone, seeing Peter's contact name in bold letters. You stare at the call, turning your sound off. You wait until the call ends before checking the time, seeing it's almost 3AM. No way in hell are you answering his calls this early in the morning, not after he stood you up.

You put your phone down, rolling away from it on your bed. You just want to sleep the day away, feeling disgusting from getting caught in the rain.

You fall asleep for a few hours before hearing a knock. You groggily sit up, heading to your bedroom door. You assume it's your roommate but when you open the door no one is there. You hear the knocking again, it's from your window.

Your body tenses, fear creeping up your back. You don't want to turn around in case your childhood fears were real and there's a killer on your fire escape.

There's a third round of knocks that come in a specific rhythm. You know that knock and you kind of wish it was a killer instead. You don't want to see Peter, but it's too late to act as if you're still asleep. Even if you did go back to sleep, you have no choice but to look at him while walking to your bed.

You know you'll regret this decision later, but you head to your window anyway. You lean on the windowsill, glaring daggers into Peter's soul through the glass. He gets the message instantly, giving you a pleading look. He points to the lock on your window, silently asking you to open it.

You huff, unlocking the window and pushing it open. You're itching to chew him out, to confront him about making you feel like shit. You want to get the first word, but the moment the window opens Peter is speaking.

"I'm so so so sorry! I promise I didn't leave you hanging on purpose!" He begins, talking at the speed of sound. He's sweating, his hair flat compared to his usual updo. "Something came up and I couldn't check my phone!" Another excuse.

"Just say you forgot and let me sleep." You grumble, eye locked with his. He knows you aren't messing around and that this is the last straw. He's fucked up for the last time and now he's grasping at anything to fix it. "At least spare me the truth."

"I swear I'm telling the truth, there was an emergency and I tried to get to my apartment in time." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's still withholding the truth and you know you'll never get it like this.

"Alright, Peter, I'm done." You pat your legs before reaching to shut your window. Before you can even touch the wooden frame, something sticky touches your wrist. Your eyes land on a white substance pulling on your skin slightly. You follow the string down to Peter's wrist, his eyes wide. There's a wristband with some sort of mechanism on it. "What the fuck?"

Before you can think he's climbing through your window, disconnecting his web from his wrist. You stare at the substance still attached to you, it reminds you of a spider's web. Spiderweb.

"OH, MY-" Peter places a hand over your mouth, shushing you. His palms are rough but warm. Your eyes are wide and the tips of your fingers are numb as things slowly get put into place in your mind.

"Please, don't scream," Peter begs, slowly removing his hand from your mouth. Your jaw is on the floor and you both know you have a lot to talk about.

-

Not in a million years did you expect tonight to go like this. You did not foresee Peter confessing to being Spider-Man or sitting on a rooftop as he explains his powers. You have no idea what time it is, but the sun is beginning to rise.

"So, this whole time you've been fighting crime and going to college?" That's the thing you can't wrap your head around. He has amazing grades, you're even jealous of him for it. You're trying to figure out how he doesn't pass out all the time from exhaustion.

"Yeah, I've been balancing everything." He admits. Your heart pangs at the idea of him wearing himself out constantly and then still trying to make time for you. "I promise if last night wasn't a serious emergency I would have been there." He shakes his head.

For the first time in a while, you believe him. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it." You comfort him, rubbing his back. Now that you know the full truth, everything makes sense. You don't feel bad for being upset, but you can't hold onto the anger anymore.

"I tried so hard to make any time for you," He mumbles, watching the sunrise and the sky changes colors. "Every time I thought about messaging you or even talking to you, someone would commit a crime." He chuckles, handing his head between his knees.

"Well, now that I know I forgive you." You num, nudging him playfully. Honestly, knowing he's a secret superhero makes him ten times more attractive. "Besides, now I know you aren't trying to avoid me." You joke.

"Avoid you? Never." He scoffs, wrapping an arm around you. "If anything you're one of the reasons I fight for this city. I want you to live in a place that's protected." There's a long silence as you digest his words, trying to figure out if he's saying what you think he is. After an awkward amount of quiet, he speaks again, "I just want to make sure I wasn't being too subtle, I've been in love with you since freshman year." He says bluntly, putting it all out in the air.

"Oh." That is all you can say. The guy you've had a crush on has liked you for the same amount of time and all you can say is 'Oh'. You really need to slap yourself.

"Oh." He repeats, tapping his knees. "So, uhm, I love this chat I've created." He thins his lips, trying not to look directly at you.

It takes a second but your brain finally catches up with your heart. You turn to face him, your eyes are wide. You grip his arm as if he's leaving. "OH!" Your voice raises in a few octaves, "You're in love with me!"

"Yeah, I am." He laughs, taking your hand in his. Your heart is slamming against your chest, trying to find the correct words to say.

"I'm in love with you, too!" You shout, finally forming words. You sound extremely stupid and socially broken. "I just thought you were a dick!"

"No, you were right. I was being a dick." Peter nods his head with a smile on his face. You don't disagree with him, instead, you keep your eyes on his face. You're soaking up his features, taking in every pore and micro-scar on his face. "But I wish I had confessed sooner."

"I wish you did too, but I'm glad it's now instead of never." You lean your head on his shoulder, hand still in his. He brushes his finger over the back of your palm. "Besides, now we can be one of those couples at graduation who post like fifty photos." You tease.

"Couple?" His head snaps to look at you, "You still want to date me?" He asks in such a quiet voice, almost unsure you'll say yes. It shatters your heart to see him like this, believing that years of friendship and pining will go away after a couple rough patches.

"Oh, I'd date the fuck out of you," You nod your head with a serious look. His expression brightens more than before, and his free hand reaches to touch your face.

"Can I please kiss you?" He asks, his lips about to graze yours.

"If you don't I think I might jump off this roof." You lean closer and Peter doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. The kiss is rough for just a second before mellowing out. You don't realize how much you've been craving this until it's actually happening.

He finally pulls away for air, resting his forehead on yours. "Holy shit." He gasps, trying to catch his breath. "I think this is the best moment of my life."

"It better be." You respond, going in for another kiss.

[literaila]

lingering 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: peter feels pretty lucky. 

part one, two. 

warnings: fluff, protective peter, ridiculous suggestions 

*

when the two of you walk into the office, peter will linger a couple of feet behind. 

he'll get the next elevator up. he'll wait a few extra minutes and give you the time to sit down at your desk before he even moves to his. 

and most importantly, he'll spend two minutes trying to wipe the smile off of his face. 

it seems to be glued there, stretching into wrinkles, pulling at his teeth, and making his jaw ache. he tries to scrub it off with a hand, but as soon as it's gone, it comes right back. 

especially when you're right next to him, almost holding his hand. 

"are you going to go take photos of the train station?" you're talking to him and peter is... 

well, he's not really paying attention. 

he shakes his head at you, still smiling. "what?" 

"did you sleep at all last night?" there's a frown on your face, a wrinkle between your brows. 

peter would like to kiss it away. 

he would like to kiss every inch of you, actually. 

"no, i--" he clears his throat. "i got a couple hours. i'm okay." 

"you're distracted," you correct him, stepping out of the way for a woman hurrying down the sidewalk. and then you come right back to him, almost leaning in far enough for him to feel you. 

which he can, already, of course, because he can hear your heartbeat and smell your body wash and taste the chapstick you were wearing when he showed up at your apartment. still, he likes this proximity. 

he wonders how he ever lets you get more than a foot away. 

"well, you're distracting." 

he's grinning at you when you look away. he allows you the moment to let the compliment sink in, and then he reaches down, touching your palm to his. "what were you saying?" 

"i was asking if you're supposed to go take pictures of the train station today? the one that got destroyed on monday." 

you squeeze his hand, giving him a look that translates more than words can. especially in public. he's grateful for your indiscretion, even when he feels it goes too far (for instance, yesterday you told a waiter that you thought spider-man was a self-righteous pest. he got a kiss for that though.) 

finally, peter winces. "yeah, i'm heading there at noon."

when he looks over at you, you're pouting. 

he raises a brow in question. 

"so no lunch today?" you ask, almost whining. and then you tilt your head back, making a displeased noise. 

peter almost laughs, but corrects himself before he can. "i'm sorry, baby, i tried to get an earlier time." 

"how long will you be there?" 

"probably till three, at least. i'm not sure how many other photographers are going to be there." 

your hand slides out of his and you look at him accusingly. "are you even coming back to the office after?" 

he bites the inside of his cheek, looking away from you. 

"peter," you groan, hanging your head. "why didn't you tell me this? i thought i was going over to your place tonight." 

"jameson said that any break away from my face was a good one. i can just edit the pictures on my laptop. and," peter adds, trying to reach for your hand even when you push him away, "you are." 

you scowl. "you won't let me walk there by myself."

and then the smile is back on his face. "that's why i'm coming to pick you up." 

"do you mean that literally," you squint at him, distracting peter with the look on your face. "or figuratively?" 

peter shrugs. 

"you don't have to come all the way back," you tell him, voice soft and sweet. 

"it'll take ten minutes." 

"yeah, but you're already tired. you should sleep until later tonight." 

"i'd rather walk with you." 

you roll your eyes, nudging him with your shoulder. "well, i'd rather have a sane boyfriend, but we can't all get what we want."

peter pokes you in the side, delighting in your giggles, and you finally take his hand so that he'll stop. 

but it's a little too late because the office is twenty feet away from you both. 

you're looking at him with a smile, but it's a different one than usual. a bit sullen. he can see it in the way your lips are turning down. 

"i'll go first?" you ask him, nodding towards the door. 

peter nods. "i'll come say goodbye before i leave." 

you blink at him, eyes and lips, and smile far too dangerous for him to look at for much longer. 

he kisses the top of your head before you go. getting goosebumps when your fingers graze past his as you walk away. 

peter watches you trip over a crack, almost reaching out to catch you before you find your balance again and look back at him with a grin. 

peter shakes his head. 

but he can't help it; he's grinning back. 

*

he's already smiling when you walk through the doors. he knows you're close, if by nothing but intuition. 

and he's almost pushed over--nudged, at most--by you crashing into him, hands around his neck, breath on his ear. 

"hey," you say to him, a moment too late. 

peter wraps his arms around your waist. he leans into your hug, holding you there for just a moment. and then you push him away, giving him a strange look. 

"you're early," you tell him. 

peter is still smiling. "so are you." 

"yeah, but i have an excuse," you lean into him, eyes grinning, "jameson said i was a disgrace to the office, and that i should leave before i broke anything else." 

at that, peter frowns. "what'd you break?" one of his hands goes up to your face, moving a piece of hair away from your eyes. 

"the coffee pot." 

peter blinks. 

"to be fair--" you begin to say, almost pulling away from his grip, but not quite. "rita was walking right behind me and what was i supposed to do? throw it up and catch it?" 

peter runs a thumb over your lip. "did jameson actually say that?" 

you scrunch your nose at him. "he's said worse." 

"yeah, but he doesn't usually say it to you." 

"well, i broke the most essential piece of equipment in the office. it was an accident though," you tilt your head to the side, finishing the sentence without getting peter to argue with you. 

like everything i do. 

"i don't like it," peter says, still frowning, even though your skin is so soft and he can feel you smiling against his hand, and you're looking right up at him. 

kind of like he's the only thing you'd like to see. 

"great!" you pull away from him, spinning around so you're walking backward, "because i don't like it when you're gone either. if you were there i probably wouldn't have dropped it." 

"yeah, 'cause i would've grabbed it before you could." 

"exactly." 

peter smiles again, leaning toward you. "is that your way of saying that you're still mad about this afternoon?" 

you hum. 

"how can i ever make it up to you?" 

your cheek twitches. "i can think of a few ideas," you say, with a tilt of your head. 

and then you almost crash into someone walking behind you, but peter pulls you in, eyes right above yours. 

"you'll have to share them with me," and then he kisses you, short and sweet, turning you so that he can put an arm around your shoulder. "let's go home."

*

you're dozing off on peter's shoulder when he finally looks at the clock. 

the two of you have been sitting there, trying to see who could catch more popcorn in their mouth--peter won with an unfair advantage--and then watching whatever was on cable. 

peter honestly didn't care, nor was he watching it. you were far more entertaining. 

but now it's eight o'clock, and it's getting dark. 

so he kisses your forehead and feels you hum. and then groan. 

"already?" you ask, voice rough. 

"it's been three and a half hours." 

you turn your face into his neck mumbling "i deserve five times that." 

peter is smirking at you. "i'll be back before you know it," he says, "and then we'll do whatever you want." 

"i'll be asleep." 

"then we'll cuddle." 

"can't you figure out how to clone yourself?" you grumble, leaning back. "you're smart enough." 

"which one would you want? me or the clone?" 

you look away, contemplating. and then you half grin. "i don't know. which one of you kisses better?" 

peter laughs, hand moving to your chin so that he can force you to look back at him. 

and then he answers that question without any words. 

*

when peter gets home that night, he can smell blood. 

and not his own, because he can feel it cracking on his knuckles and his chest, already dry. and not some thief's because he'd managed to avoid breaking any skin. 

no, this smell is potent. sort of sweet and metallic, familiar and not. 

when he climbs through the window, looking to the bed where he'd expected to find you, you're not there. 

he can hear rustling in the kitchen, a drawer opening and closing, and the click of a tongue. 

peter walks out of the room before he can even think about it, just barely keeping the mask on his face. 

but when he walks into the living room he only finds you, sitting on the couch, applying something to your hand. 

you look up with a smile, then furrow your brows, gesturing to your face. 

oh. peter still hadn't taken off the mask. 

he does, frowning at you, and taking a few steps forward. 

"there you are," you say with a grin. 

and despite how happy you look to see him, and how much he's missed you just in the last five hours, peter is still frowning. he bends down in front of you, biting his lip. "what happened?" 

you tilt your head, then follow his eyes. "oh. did you know that bread knives are sharp?" 

peter sighs, grabbing your hand. "how did you even do this?" he asks, turning your hand so that he can see the cut fresh on your palm. "i thought we talked about not going into the kitchen when i'm not here." 

"and i thought i said that it was a ridiculous suggestion and you were trying to starve me." 

he holds your hand up in front of your eyes, raising his brows. 

"it doesn't even hurt that bad." 

"really? cause it smells bad. and i'm pretty sure i can see bone." 

you laugh at him, taking your hand back. "i already washed it, i just need a bandaid. how are you?" 

he blinks at you. 

"peter," you groan, rolling your eyes. "it's not a big deal. but i'll share the bandaids with you." 

there's a question in your eyes, alight with the same eagerness peter has found to love. 

"i don't need 'em," he tells you and then stands up. "i'm going to go change. then we'll talk." 

"about dinner?" you call back.

when peter comes out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, you're already sitting in bed. 

peter finally looks at you, almost smiling at his shirt and your spare pair of shorts you keep here, but then looks back to your hand. 

he crosses his arms. 

"can i help you, peter?" 

"do you see my point now?" 

you blow a raspberry, crawling towards him so you can reach his hand. "everyone gets a little banged up. i don't think you're one to talk." 

"what if you'd cut your finger off and i wasn't here?" 

you roll your eyes, again. "then i'd knock on mrs. robinson's door and ask her to sew it back on. besides, i'd look good with nine fingers." 

peter stares at you. 

you move up so that your face is close to his, and you're still smiling. biting your lip as you look at him. and then you poke his cheek. "you worry too much. also, i think this argument is hypocritical." 

"i'm fine the next morning." 

"don't brag." 

peter sighs again, and then he's taking a step towards you, one of his hands going to your back to keep you up. "i don't like leaving you." 

your lip curls. "i know. but it's good because then we have something to argue about when you get back." 

peter smiles at you, nudging your nose with his. 

you close your eyes, tilting your head up to meet him better. "i missed you." 

"yeah?" 

you're smiling against him, leaking joy and contentedness and every ounce of adoration you have into him. peter knows because he can feel it. 

in just your skin on his fingertips, he can tell that you've poisoned him. and he doesn't really mind. 

you nod against him. 

"a lot?" peter prods. 

you seesaw your head. "mmm, i think i mostly missed how warm you are. 'cause your heaters broken." 

"you just don't know how to set it." 

"i don't know how to set it because it's broken and you don't want to fix it." 

peter shrugs. "can't fix something that isn't broken." 

you're shaking your head against him, and then he leans forward, catching you in a kiss. 

your mouth is almost unbearable. your smile and the way you laugh when he pulls you even closer, and the way your hands wrap around his neck and fall into his hair. 

how he ever lived without this, peter isn't sure. 

you break away from him, breathing strained. "you okay?" 

peter pushes you down, climbing on top of you. "i am now." 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 

[reysdriver]

Keeping Secrets | P.P.

Your boyfriend Peter shows up at your window in the middle of the night and asks for your help — peter x gn!reader angst with happy ending

warnings: blood, injury, angst

words: 1.2k

It was almost 1 o'clock in the morning, and you were still working on a report for school. You were sitting on your bed with your laptop on your legs, and you were starting to get tired. You were just about to put away all of your work and go to sleep, but then you felt your phone vibrating against your leg.

You picked it up, and saw that it was your boyfriend, Peter Parker, trying to call you.

You were confused as to why he was trying to call you this late, and then a scary thought poked itself into your exhausted mind that it was an emergency, so you answered the call.

"Hey, Peter, what's up? Are you alright?"

His voice sounded pained as he answered. "Yeah, I'm good."

"So why are you calling me at one in the morning?"

"Umm," he hesitated. "I need to drop by your place for something really quickly."

"Babe, it's really late and I was just about to go to sleep. I don't-"

"I'm out on the fire escape right now. I just need your first aid kit and maybe a place to crash for the night." 

"What?" You mumble, standing up and going to look out your window. 

Sure enough, your boyfriend was on the fire escape of your apartment, right outside your window. You quickly raised the bottom pane of your window, letting him come into your bedroom. As he passes you and sits on your floor, leaning against your bed, your eyes scan the injuries, blood, and bruises all over his body and face.

"Oh my god, Peter, what happened to you?" You asked him, sounding slightly out of breath due to your surprise and the fact that you haven't spoken in hours. 

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." He said, obviously avoiding your question.

"Don't worry about you?!" You almost shouted, but caught yourself and started whisper-yelling so your family wouldn't wake up.

"Yeah, like I said, (y/n/n), I just need your first aid kit and a place to sleep."

"No, you need to tell me what's going on right now." You demanded in a still hushed, but firm tone.

"I just need to clean myself up so nothing gets infected. I would go home but Aunt May can't know about this, and her night shift just ended, so she should be back home at any minute."

He stood up from your bed and headed towards your bedroom door. You quickly rushed in front of him and told him to stay.

"No, I'll get it. Just stay here for a second." You told him, heading out to your bathroom to find any first aid supplies you could find.

After a minute, you came back to your bedroom with your arms full of bandages and other medical supplies. When you walked in, quietly closing the door behind you, you found your boyfriend lying down on the ground against the footboard of your bed.

"Hey, you're back." He said in a hushed tone. "I didn't want to get blood on your bed, so I just sat on the floor."

"Thanks." You mumbled, crouching down next to him. "Arms up."

Peter brought his arms up over his head and you pulled off his dirtied shirt, placing it beside you both.

"Holy-" You gasped lightly as you saw the amount of small wounds and bruises that were covered before. You had seen him injured before—he's a clumsy kid who likes to skate, so of course—but never like this.

A thousand different thoughts raced through your head on how this all happened, but you weren't going to ask if he wasn't going to tell you and answer.

Pushing away the thoughts you now deemed irrelevant, you went back to helping him. You poured some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth and started dabbing it onto his cuts.

As you cleaned his wounds, he thanked you multiple times, and you ignored him every single time.

As you rubbed over a particular cut of his, he winced, then quickly explained that it was just because a lot of alcohol soaked into his skin at once.

"Oh, now you'll explain why you're in pain?" You muttered under your breath in annoyance.

"What?" He asked, looking up into your eyes.

"Nothing." You brushed him off, without stopping the cleaning of the injuries on his chest. "I just don't get why you won't tell me what happened to you."

"I told you not to worry about me." He said, gently placing a finger on your jaw.

You brushed his finger away from you, and argued back, careful not to speak too loudly.

"But I am going to worry about you because you're my boyfriend! And my boyfriend shows up outside my window in the middle of the night, covered in blood and he tells me it's nothing? Of course I'm going to be upset over that!"

"Just trust me when I say there's a reason I can't tell you what's going on, okay?" Peter said.

"No, I'm not going to do that." You said, your eyes filling up with tears. "I'm going to help clean you up so you don't die, I'll give you a place to sleep, but I'm sleeping on the chair and I want you gone by tomorrow morning."

Wanting to dry your tears and hide your vulnerable face from the boy sitting in front of you, you stood up, trying to escape the situation. You felt Peter's familiar hand grab your wrist, stopping you from leaving him.

"(y/n), please just stay." He said with a sigh.

"No, Peter, unless it's you explaining everything, I don't want to talk right now."

"(y/n), I'm Spider-Man." He confessed.

You turned around and he let go of your hand. "What?" You asked him.

"Hand me my backpack." He said, pointing to the constantly-ripped bag that he dropped by your window. You picked it up and handed it to him.

He unzipped the second zipper on his bag and pulled out the red and blue suit that you, and about half of New York, had seen online and in some police reports on the news.

"I'm Spider-Man. I go around stopping criminals and helping good people, and I just got in a fight trying to take down some guys who were trying to rob a jewelry store a few blocks away."

"So you're not in the mob or some secret fight club?" You asked, drying your tears with the end of your sleeves.

"No, of course not." He said as you crouched down next to him again.

"Good." You said, kissing his forehead. "But don't ever lie to me again or I promise I'm going to leave you out on the fire escape next time you call me."

"Deal." Peter said, a new smile gracing your face.

[fragileruns]

welcome backk !!

request for tasm!peter - peter would always blow off reader on dates because he's busy fighting crime and stuff like that, and reader has always been patient with him and understanding until she finally had enough. peter went to her apartment without thinking ( so he was still wearing the suit ) because he wanted to make up with reader right away and then he reveals his identity to her and they make up ( can end with smut )

i am terrible at making requests, and sorry if it would be hard to understand T T

anywaysss happy that you're back :D take caree

sorry this request took so long, lovely! i hope you enjoy! sorry for not including any smut, i’m just not the best at writing it yet.

summary: peter’s been showing up late, or not at all, for all your dates recently and you’re upset, until you find out why.

content warnings: fluff mainly, very slight angst, peter being a stressed baby, gn!reader (i think, let me know if not!), not proofread

The first time it happened was a study date. You had been struggling to grasp the new topic that had been introduced in your mathematics class and Peter, being the braniac he was, had been quick to offer to tutor you. He was supposed to come over that Friday night and have a movie night, after you finished studying. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he was just running late or had an emergency, but then the hours creeped on and he still never showed. He apologized the next day, claiming May needed help with something and he couldn’t get away (apparently, this ‘something’ had kept him from messaging you that he wouldn’t come, as well, but you decided not to bring that up).

The next time was a bit more annoying. It was date night. You and Peter always set aside at least one day every week to be ‘date night.’ It usually just consisted of take out food and really cheesy movies, but it was nice to be able to spend time together, especially when classes filled up most of your schedules. You had a stressful week, with exams coming up and final projects being due, and you had been looking forward to spending a night with your boyfriend. He always knew how to put you at ease. You waited up for him for hours, but he never showed, again. At least this time he did text you, even though it was nearing midnight and it only read ‘I’m so sorry, this huge emergency came up. I’ll make it up to you with an icecream date tomorrow???’

The cycle continued on. He kept missing minor dates, sometimes showing up hours late or texting you that something came up, and other times just going radio silent until the next day. And you had forgiven him everytime, but he could tell you were getting annoyed and feeling rejected. Rightfully so. He knew he had to make it up to you, somehow, and his best plan of action was to scrape together whatever money he could and find the fanciest restaurant nearby (which wasn’t as fancy as he’d have liked, but it had foods he had never heard of, so he figured it was good enough).

“Okay, listen, I know I’ve been really, really bad at showing up to our dates on time, as in, I haven’t been,” he had started one night, coming into your apartment after one of his classes. You were sitting on the couch, surfing through movies to find something to watch, and he walked over to plop down next to you. “And I know you’ve been stressed with exams, and I just… I want to make it up to you and tell you I’m proud of you for getting through them. So, I made us a reservation at that fancy place - the italian one, down the road? Anyway, it’s for Saturday at 7, and if you don’t totally hate me, I thought it’d be nice.”

You glanced over him, furrowed eyebrows and with only a hint of hope. It was hard to keep believing he’d show up whenever he had missed so many. “I don’t hate you. I just… are you sure you’re gonna show up? I’m really tired of embarrassing myself by just waiting around,” you admitted with a doubtful sigh, and Peter’s heart nearly broke. He felt even worse for missing everything, and he wished more than anything that he could just tell you why.

“Hey, I swear, okay? I — I’m really sorry for missing any of our dates, and I’m sorry you felt embarrassed. But, the only way I don’t show up for this one is if I’m dying in a hospital somewhere, alright?” He rushed to reassure you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek and keep your attention on him. Seeing his puppy dog eyes made you give in quicker than you would have liked to, and you just nodded with a small ‘okay’ to agree. He grinned, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss, before turning back to the TV, decidedly picking some action movie that he thought you’d like.

Saturday came around, and you hated to say it, but you were excited. You had dressed nicely, taking over an hour to get ready just to make sure you looked perfect. You even arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, waiting outside for Peter to show. He ended up texting you that he’d be running a few minutes late and asked that you went ahead to claim your seats, told you he’d still be there shortly. You lost some hope, but still trusted he’d keep his word and went in to sit down.

By 7:30, most of that trust had died and you apologized to the waiter for wasting so much of her time, but you were sure your date would show. She gave you a sympathetic smile that made you want to curl up and die as you ate your complimentary bread.

By 7:45, you had already send Peter a string of texts, letting him know you were about to leave and would talk to him later. You still hoped he’d respond though, but no luck.

Finally, by 8:00, you had given up all hope and just left, apologizing again to the waiters as you hurried out, eager to get away from the stares. You stopped by a small pizza place on your way back, starving as you hadn’t ate since before noon that day, scarfing down the slice before going to your house. Part of you worried that Peter was, in fact, dying in a hospital somewhere and that was why he didn’t show, though you knew that wasn’t why. Knew he just got caught up with something else, like always.

Peter stared down at his phone, mask held in his other hand as he frowned at your string of texts, all consisting of things like ‘this is humiliating, are you showing up??’ and ‘you promised you’d show.’ He felt that deep pit of guilt, and he didn’t think before swinging to your home, only wanting to make things up to you. Only wanting to make things better before you finally just gave up and broke things off with him. He wasn’t at all focused on the fact that he was wearing his tight suit, mask in his mouth now, identity fully revealed if anyone squinted enough.

His heart was beating a mile a minute, but not because of the adrenaline of the fight or the feeling of whipping through the air. Because he could only imagine how upset and angry you must feel right now, and he felt awful for being the cause of it.

He got to your house in less than half the time it would usually take, moving as quickly as possible, tapping on your bedroom window as soon as he spotted you in bed. You had rolled over at the noise, eyes squinting to see what was going on at first before you spotted him. He noticed the split second of anger that came across your features, but it was quickly replaced with wide eyes as you rushed to let him in. He glanced behind him to make sure nobody was about to throw something at him.

“Peter, you’re —” you had started once you pulled the window up, but you didn’t have time to continue before he started rushing to apologize.

“I’m sosososo sorry, I know I promised and I don’t have a good excuse, and I know you must be so upset right now,” he started, his own eyes wide as he climbed in, hands immediately finding your waist to stand you in front of him, ignoring your own shocked look and attempt at getting words out. “Tell me how to make it up to you, I’ll do anything, I swear. Seriously, Do you want a puppy? A cat? A — a lion? Anything?” He was practically begging.

“Spiderman,” You had responded. His eyebrows furrowed, hands dropping from your waist as he took in what he thought was your request.

“You want — you want Spiderman? Like, a cutout? That’s… okay, I didn’t know you were that big of a fan.”

“No, Peter, you’re… you’re Spiderman,” you stated and he was more confused than ever, but then your hands reached out to grab the mask that had dropped to the floor, and everything clicked together. He had never changed.

“Oh, that — um, I was at a costume party,” he attempted to lie, and it was clear on your face that you weren’t falling for his bluff. “Okay, yes. I’m Spiderman. That’s… sort of why I’ve been so late to everything.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Did you not trust me?”

“No. No! That’s not it at all. I just — it’s dangerous. For you to know anything. For you to even be with me, but I’m too selfish to end things. I just didn’t want someone coming after you just because you knew my identity,” he admitted with a frown, upset that you were now in harms way just because of his own stupidity.

“You’ve been doing this alone? You haven’t had any help?”

“What?” He questioned, looking at you as if you had asked the most absurd question possible. You were worried about his help when he had just missed his probably fifth date in a row? And put you in danger? “Um, yeah, I’ve been doing it alone. Look, I’m really sorry about tonight, and I promise —”

“Peter. It’s fine, I’m not mad. Anymore. I just can’t believe you hid this from me. I could’ve helped you, you know?” You cut him off, reaching out to rub your hand over a bruise forming near his eye. He hadn’t really noticed it from the fight, used to being punched around and overly focused on trying to get home to you.

His eyes were wide and filled with both worry and guilt. Guilt over missing tonight. Worry because he had no idea what was going to happen now, because it was about to become ten times harder to keep you safe. If anyone found out you knew his identity, they’d come for you, and Peter really didn’t know how to deal with that.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I was scared something would happen to you. I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice small, and your heart broke.

“You won’t, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen to me, I’m here. But I wish you would’ve told me, I hate thinking about you out there, getting hurt. Not having anyone to patch you up. Is that why you’d wear hoodies so often?”

“Yeah,” he looked slightly embarrassed, and he moved to sit on the edge of your bed, keeping a hold of your hand as you went to sit next to him. “I usually heal up really fast, though, I promise. So it’s not that bad. And I’m really good at patching myself up, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you. I worried about you before I knew you were Spiderman, why would you think I wouldn’t worry about this?” You sighed, scooting closer to him as he wrapped his arms aorund you, moving to hide his face in the crook of your neck. You could tell how messed up he felt about it all with how openly he was craving your affection, but you didn’t say anything and instead just put your hands in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

“Sweetheart, ‘m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that,” he said, but you didn’t stop and he didn’t stop you.

“That’s fine. Just go to sleep, bug boy.”

He grumbled something out about the nickname, something about being a man and not a boy, but it was quiet, and he almost immediately fell asleep soon after.

[spiderfunkz]

✧.* hold me close

— summary : when lost in darkness, peter looks for his light.

— pairings : tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

— word count : 0,9k

— warnings : angst, hurt to comfort, mutual pining kinda, eventual friends to lovers, kissing mwa mwa, peter & reader are roomates and share an apartment, mentions of self doubt and wounds, sad peter :(

a/n : based off of 1999 by beabadoobee but i skipped a lyric whoops. also sorry this is so messy lolz 🐟🐟 this is blurb is kinda similar to this but with moreeeee angst. not proofread btw

🎵 hold me close,

being spiderman was never easy. it came with all different responsibilities that peter parker had to face, and most of the time it was too much for him.

you knew peter's secret identity. well by accident, one day just finding him at 2 am, opening the fridge in his red and blue suit with his mask in his mouth.

since then you made a promise with him, to look out for each other. to have his back, even when it's hard for him to have yours.

🎵 and say you care,

it was a usual night, you had just finished your presentation and essays for the week so you decide to watch a tv show while waiting for peter to finish his patrol.

an episode went by, and another, and another.

that's when your hear the knock on your window and peter's silhouette peaking. he has his mask off and you can see the tiredness on his face.

🎵 because i'm in love with your brown hair,

you open the window and catch him as he nearly falls on the floor. "hey i got you." you guide him to a chair and sit him down before rushing to the bathroom and getting the first-aid kit.

you clean the dirt from his face, and fix his messy hair from the rough wind outside. you two sat in comfortable silence as you clean him. you hide the worry in your face, not wanting to pressure him with questions.

but peter notices you, your body language. how your hand shakes when you grab the hand towel, how your eyes seemed concerned, almost scared.

🎵 the way you touch me is a curse,

peter presses his forehead against yours, keeping you close to him.

you finish up with his wounds and push the first-aid kit aside.

you look at him, he observes you. he wishes he can just hug you and never let go. he wishes he wasn't spiderman. he wishes you to be happy and not worry every time he goes on a patrol. he wishes you feel the same for him so he could just kiss the pain away.

you wish happiness for peter. you wish for him to be safe every time he goes on a patrol. you wish you could be there whenever he needs it. you wish he'd feel the same for you. you wish to hold his hand and kiss his pain away.

🎵 and i'm not willing to let it all hurt,

"do you wanna talk about your patrol?" you ask softly, face saddening.

his heart aches hearing your voice, how it sounds like its gonna break any second now.

he shakes his head.

"okay, i'm just letting you know i'm here okay? if you wanna talk about it i'm always here to listen." you state.

he wishes he could tell you all the things that has been happening lately, how he wishes he could be the happier version of himself, the version who's always in the mood to ramble about the missions he's had, the version that can always find light in darkness.

now he's just lost in the darkness, and you're the light.

🎵 watch your mouth and wash with soap,

"i'm sorry." he says, eyes teary.

"don't apologize, you have nothing to apologize for peter." you reassure him, hand cupping his cheeks.

"i'm sorry that i always come home like this, i'm sorry that you have to stay up for me, i'm sorry that i always miss our movie nights, i'm so sorry-" — "peter don't you dare apologize. you protect this city and i am so proud of you, i don't mind patching you up pete, i will always be here for you okay? i care for you." you cut him off, your tone stern.

🎵 cause i just hate the way you spoke,

"you got that?" he nods.

there was another moment of silence. a moment where peter realizes that you care for him so much more that he can imagine. a moment where you just want to hold him close and reassure him.

"you care for me?" he asks, he needs to be so sure. "yes peter. trust me if i can take away all the pain your feeling i would. and i won't care how that makes me feel as long as your happy."

🎵 and i'm not willing to give it all up,

peter pauses.

he knew you cared for him like no other, but he never processed how much you cared for him.

he hesitates but the tension grew almost suffocating him.

he thought about confessing everything to you. how you make him feel like flowers are blooming in him, how he melts into the slightest touch from you, how he thinks you have the most kissable face ever.

🎵 and i'm not wasting time again,

peter kisses you.

you could feel all the emotions in him wash away, how he melts under your touch.

"i love you y/n. and i'm sorry that i never showed you enough of that. i wish to be with you every time i couldn't. i wish i could spend more time you. i wish i could just hold you close every time i see you worry for me." he rambles, smiling, hands cupping your cheeks.

"i love you too peter." you chuckle, "but don't ever apologize again okay." you kiss his hand.

[softtdaisy]

"Don't you fucking dare say you didn't want this to happen. Don't you fucking dare." with Peter Parker ❤️

WHAT IF - PETER PARKER

DESCRIPTION I You were Peter’s favorite what if. But one day, he understood that it can have serious consequences when you make it come true.

PAIRING I tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT I 2,2k

A/N I oh my god this is so sad. Thank you for requesting this sweety, I really hope you will love this one because I might have a lot of fun breaking people's heart.... (warning: Peter is a shitty boyfriend)

You’ve always been Peter’s favorite what if.

It started when you were kids. You’ve been neighbors ever since he moved in with May and Ben. And from the day your mom asked you to go and play with the new kid, you’ve never been apart. It was easy to be around Peter. His brain seemed to work way faster than yours and he always had new game ideas. Sometimes there were mistakes, and you would both be grounded. But in the end, it was mainly good memories.

And the one day, the whole what if situation started. You were having a sleepover in your garden. You were both lying on the grass, watching the stars when Peter asked you. “What if we were astronauts?” you turned your head towards him. He seemed so concentrated that you wondered if you imagined his voice. But when he finally gave you a loo, you knew it was a serious question.

“Well, if we were astronauts, we would be super famous.” You replied and Peter laughed with you. “We would have a rainbow space rocket, because we can’t decide on the color. And we would make a great discovery that change the world! So, we can be on history books.”

“Do you think our suits would be rainbow too?”

“Well, I think we can each chose our favorite color.”

From that night, it became a habit. From childish what if, you went on more serious one when you grew up. You would ask some when you had a bad idea like “what if we were living in France?” to imagine another life. There were the drunk one, specially coming from Peter. Like the famous “what if I was a worm?” that broke his heart because you told him he would probably get killed in minutes. You loved to remind him of that what if.

You were on your last year of high school when one night, Peter asked you the most serious what if he ever had.

You were both on your bed. You were working on an essay and Peter was looking at you, thinking about that question that was killing him. “God, I hate this thing.” You sighed, lying on your back. You met Peter’s eyes, which followed your movement. “You, okay?” you asked.

“What if we were in love?” he didn’t hesitate. He needed to say it. He needed to know what you were thinking about this one. Would you take it as a joke, like every other what if he ever asked? Or would you consider it, imagining a world where it would be true?

What Peter never imagined was that you could already be in love with him. Nothing in the world would have make risk your relationship with your best friend for a crush. But this was the best opportunity to see what it could be like. “I guess we would kiss each other.” You replied, still looking at him in the eyes.

You thought he would just nod and talk about something else.

You thought he would laugh about it.

You never thought he would bend over you to kiss you. 

It was your first kiss with Peter. The first of many more. Because, if you never started dating this became a casual thing. “What if we were in love?” became your signal when you both needed love and attention. Dates, kisses, sex… you did everything a normal couple would do. But you weren’t a real couple. You were a what ifcouple. A couple that only existed in a universe you went to when you pretended to be together.

You only realized it could be a bad thing the day Peter came to your house, or more exactly climbed in your bedroom, and asked you that question. He didn’t even wait for your answer before kissing you. His lips were such a drug that you let him do anything he wanted. It was like your brain stopped working and nothing else mattered. That was kind of the deal, technically: when you pretented to be together, nothing in your life existed anymore.

So it wasn’t until you were in bed, that you remembered why you haven’t been a what if couple for weeks. “But…aren’t you dating someone?” you asked Peter in a whispered. Your head was on his chest, his hand playing with your hair. He stopped moving for a few seconds. Like he, too, remembered that detail. 

“I’m not anymore.”

You never knew if Peter had already broken up with his girlfriend at that time. You only knew he was, indeed, single the next day at high school.

When you left for university, your what if couple took a break. You were both in two different states. You just kept having this game over text, with less serious questions. 

“What if I was running for president” / “I would definitely vote for you, Parker.” 

“What if you were stuck with me, in your apartment?” / “You wouldn’t leave this place alive Peter.”

There was something comforting in knowing that you still had your best friend. And those texts helped you think about something other than your real life, full of classes and works. You foolishly believed that it would last forever. 

You were so wrong.

When Peter started dating his new girlfriend, he was texting you less and less. You thought he had found someone new to change his mind and he didn’t need you to pretend he was living another life. His real life was good enough now. And somehow, it helped you go on with your own life too: having new friends, dating other people for real and stopped pretending you were somebody else.

You were back in town for Peter’s birthday. Nothing in the world would have prevented you from celebrating it with him, even though you weren’t as close. You honestly thought it would be a simple party, seeing some old friends, drinking, and having fun. You didn’t think too much of it.

“You’re here!” you heard scream in your back, which made you jump. You turned around just to see Peter running to you and took in his arms. You were literally flying in the middle of the room, your laugh almost covering the music. But it didn’t matter. You were reunited with your favorite person.

“Of course, I am!” you said, finally taking Peter’s face in your hands. “I would never miss your birthday.” You took a few seconds to look at him. He looked more handsome than ever, with his brown hair styled in a messy and clean way, his beautiful brown eyes full of joy and excitement, and those gorgeous pink lips…

It felt like nobody was there, except for you two. If you thought your what if was over, you almost asked him the famous question to start over. It felt right. It felt like the right thing, at the moment. It did, at least, until she arrived.

“Hi, you must be [y/n]” she said in your back. Peter finally put you back on your feet before you turned around to look at her. She was pretty. She was even more than that. She looked like nice too and you felt bad for considering kissing Peter just a few seconds ago. 

Peter walked next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “[y/n], this is Abby, my…”

“Fiancé!” She had such a big smile on her face that you first thought she was joking. But then she showed you, her hand. And there it was. That beautiful ring that sealed every possibility between you and Peter.

He was engaged.

For real.

“Congratulations to you two,” you put your best smile on your face to hug them. But you noticed Peter’s look on you, and you read through his words. He was close to not tell you the truth. 

But you decided to get overt it for the night. You enjoyed the whole party like nothing happened. You probably won’t see Peter for a few months so there was not point making a scene, right?

The following weekend, Peter was here.

You’ve been working all Saturday on your next essay and didn’t even notice the hours passing. It wasn’t until the bell rang that you looked up and saw the night was already there. You didn’t except anyone. But you still went to open the door, having the feeling it could be important.

And here he was. Peter Parker. His hair wet from the terrible rain outside, wearing a sweat he already had back in high school. You had a kind of flashback to those nights when he would come and find comfort in your arms. You could almost hear him before he spoke.

You wished you didn’t.

“What if I was in love with you?” he said in a raspy voice, like he hasn’t been talking for days and even forgot how to do it.

You were speechless, even breathless from that. Months of not playing and suddenly Peter was shaking your whole routine up. Your eyes fell on his lips, remembering what usually happened next. 

And he noticed. That’s why Peter took a step closer to you, cupped your face between his hands before kissing you like he’s been dying to do. It was a passionate and needy kiss, like you both needed it to live. You quickly grabbed his hair with a hand, while trying to close the door with the other.

Before you noticed it, you were lying on your bed with Peter above you. He was taking off your clothes, kissing every single millimeter of skin he was revealing. You didn’t realize you weren’t fully alive until Peter’s lips on you woke your soul up. You never wanted this to end. You wanted to play pretend for as long as you could.

So that was how you spent the whole night: pretending to be the couple you weren’t. You had sex, multiples times. Ordered diner but barely ate it. Because anytime one of you started talking, the bubble was ready to explode. One word too many and you would realize what you were doing and how bad it was. 

It was selfish to take advantage of that situation. To act like with a simple sentence, the world really stopped turning and you could do whatever you wanted. You felt bad for his fiancé, for the life he was putting aside by being with you.

But surprisingly, you weren’t the one who got angry in the morning.

You woke up because of the noises Peter was making in your bedroom. You saw the flashlight from his phone and wondered what he was looking for. Or even, why he was looking for something right now. “What you are doing?” you asked with difficulty, still sleepy.

“This was stupid.” You didn’t recognize the tone he used. Peter was never the type of person to be mean. Sure, he was angry sometimes and he would say something he regretted later. But he was never purposely mean. But the way he talked to you that morning, it was pure cold hearted. It wasn’t the Peter you knew. 

You sat on your bed, looking at him with confusion. “Yeah, you’re right, it’s not fair, we…”

And he turned to you. “Shut up.”  You never saw his eyes that dark, like he was being possessed. Or maybe he had just become he man you didn’t want to know anymore. “You should have never let that happen.”

“I’m sorry?” you replied with a nervous laugh. “I shouldn’t have? You fucking fly to place Peter to have sex with me!” You didn’t do anything at his birthday when you were dying to kiss him. He travelled to a different taste for a night of pure sex. And you were the bad one? "Don't you fucking dare say you didn't want this to happen. Don't you fucking dare."

He was still looking at you like you were the foolish one. And you couldn’t handle that look no more. So, you got up and went to the bathroom. You hoped by the time you took a shower; Peter would have either calm down or leave your place. He was a cheater. And a liar. And you felt so stupid for falling for his lies. And his fucking stupid game.

When you opened the door again, he was sitting at your table, his eyes locked on his phone. He looked up when you walked past him to get a cup of coffee. “Listen, [y/n], I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry to you, I just realized where I was when I woke up and…”

“Peter.” You stopped him. You took a breath. You knew what you were going to say would change everything. But it was time. For both of you.

“What if we broke up for good?”

You saw his expression changed. He felt bad before, now he was just sad. Because it was more than just a what if. 

There won’t be any what if no more. No more kisses. No more escapism.

No more Peter Parker in your life.

“I’ll still love you anyway.” He replied with a low voice. When you didn’t answer, Peter got up to leave. He walked to you with precaution and put a simple and soft kiss on your forehead. One you didn’t offer back. You just watched him leave your place. 

Realizing that this was the first time Peter told you he loved you, for real.

follow @softtdaisywords​ to know when new stories are released 🤍

[jamespottersdaisy]

A man without love

Peter Parker x fem!reader

|1.4k|

a/n: just a fluffy banter during a cozy night

song choice has absolutely no relation to the fic whatsoever, i just listened to it the whole time and liked lmao. dedicated to my baby jay @hollandweather

Moonlight to show the way so we can follow

Waiting inside her eyes was my tomorrow

Then something changed her mind, her kisses told me

I had no loving arms to hold me

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

Somewhere amidst the mellifluous melody, the door clicks, and you know Peter is home. 

You’ve been captivated in your book for far too long to notice the hour; quite late, might I add. It must have been a rough night for him to decide to stay past two in the morning for patrol.

You grab your phone and toss it between the pages as a bookmark before hopping on your feet.

“Nice song, baby,” Peter murmurs as he dawdles to your room, leaving its door agape. You wager he is changing to something much more comfortable than that suit of his but still barge in the room nonetheless. “How was the night, big guy?”

You catch a few discoloration on his skin as his bare torso moves around beside the bed. He glances at you sidelong, swiftly hauling a grey shirt on. “Smashing success. No criminals left around.”

He might have rushed to shroud his skin with cloth from you, but you are shrewd enough to match his furtiveness. No chance he is hiding those tiny injuries from you. Perhaps he has a good reason to do so– such as the look on your face when you see him hurt– but still, not good enough of a reason to deny you. 

“Lemme see,” you clutch the hem of his shirt to lift it up, only for his hand to grab yours to parry.

“On my period, sorry, beautiful.” His eyes may be drooping from exhaustion, yet his smirk is as smug as always while you glower daggers at him.

“Let me see, Peter.”

“That’s harassment.”

“There’s something purplish on your back,” you try harder, but he is stronger.

“You’re delusional.”

“I know what I saw, quit gaslighting me.”

“Gaslighting is not real. You’re crazy,” Peter shakes his head.

“Are you hiding hickeys of trysting?” you jeer, making him chuckle and release your hand from his at last. 

“Nope, don’t have time for that,” he shakes his head gallantly. “Just bruises of valour.”

Which simply earns a mocking scoff from you.

You don’t see or feel his amorous gaze on you as your fingers trace the new bruises. They’ll heal, you know they will, and still, you want to kiss every one of them into evanescing.

“How was your night?” he whispers, bringing his hand to your hair and pushing a strand behind your ear. 

“Better than yours, apparently,” You now touch the small nick on his jaw tenderly and turn around to get a band-aid from the nightstand.

His eyes follow your movements around, gears working in his brain. “Please, not the pink one–” he calls when you grab a band-aid.

Too late. You are already springing back with a wide grin. “Pink one!”

“Not the pink one…” he closes his eyes in disdain as you strut back to his side and place a screaming pink plaster on his jaw.

He looks down in your eyes as you check his handsome face, clearly proud of your work. “I look so manly.”

“Most manliest you ever looked.”

“Wanna get in the bed with me?

“You’re on your period, Peter.”

He laughs and turns around before throwing himself into the bed. “C’mon, take your book and the music and come here.”

I cannot face this world that's fallen down on me

So if you see my girl, please send her home to me

Tell her about my heart that's slowly dying

Say I can't stop myself from crying

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

When you sit on the bed, legs crossed with your book on your lap, Peter takes your phone, restarting the same song. He averts his eyes to your book. “Anything new?” 

“Oh, yeah, you’ve missed so much,” your eyes widen with excitement, and Peter’s smile widens intuitively. “I don’t even remember where you left off.”

“The girl’s memories got stolen,” he reminds you. “Want me to braid your hair?”

“I get so sleepy when you do that,” you shake your head and open the book to go through pages with hopes of remembering what you’ve read since Peter left.

“I should hope so, do you know what hour it is?”

“But I’ve missed you,” your head snaps up, and Peter narrows his eyes. His hand is already up in your hair, playing and caressing the locks gently. “Liar. You’ve been reading that book since I’ve left home.”

“And two hours before that,” you lean into his touch.

“You’ve officially lost the right to complain about your headache,” He props up in bed, switching to a more suitable position for easier access to your hair.

“I will do it regardless.”

‘I know you will,” his long fingers take three strands, and you are already feeling sleepy. “Now, please, tell me what happened after the poor girl lost her memories.”

You pause for a minute, mustering all the plot you’ve consumed to drain. As you remember the things the poor main character went through, your blood pressure soars, eyes widen and voice raise. “They lied to her! Can you believe that?”  you exclaim, at which Peter raises his brows in happy bewilderment. “God, I hate her mother so much!”

“Stepmother. Go on,” He interjects before passing to another strand of hair and dividing it into three. “What about her situationship?”

“He is not her situationship, Peter–”

“I mean, they flirt about killing each other, sleep together, but they’re not together.”

“That’s sexual tension and slow burn,” you scowl. Peter lets go of another newly done braid.

“Yep, that’s what I said,” he nods, caressing your cheek with his thumb. ”Situationship. What happened to him?”

That’s when you straighten your back, and Peter rolls his eyes. He never was fond of the male main characters of the books you’ve read. No matter how they looked and what they did, you always seemed to be infatuated with them.

“He was looking for her, and he found her and he freaked out when she didn’t remember her–” You start babbling about the male lead, but Peter is not amused.

“Breathe.”

“But he could not openly tell her everything, it would freak her out, so he–”

“Still not breathing, beautiful.”

“Stop interrupting,” you wave off your hand.”So he lied about who he is to gain her trust and–”

“He’s such a liar, what do you even see in him?”

“He’s hot,” you lightly slap his chest to stop him from cutting off your every word. 

“He is short, but sure, go on,” Peter grabs you by the arm and yanks you closer to his chest. 

This is his favourite time of the day, and you are always too busy to see it. Your voice echoes around the room, albeit he forgets most of the things you are saying by the morning. What matters is that you are talking. To him. With him. 

“Doesn’t matter, still hot,” You nuzzle against his chest, feeling his hands roam around your hair and back. It’s dizzying and yet the most comforting feeling you’ve ever felt. “So, they start spending time behind her mother and slowly grow a bond.”

“There we go, she’s gonna take forever to trust him again,” Peter’s tone is already lowered, welcoming you into a place of drowsiness. Both of you in your pyjamas, tangled together under a blanket that Peter wrapped around you. 

“So, you wouldn’t wait and fight for my love even if it took forever?” your words are heavy, and your voice is slumberous. Peter smiles down at your hooded eyes and rests his chin against yours.

“Baby, you didn’t acknowledge your feelings for me for six months.” He is right. You fought a lot to not ruin the friendship at first.

“I still could have taken my time,” you mumble, eyes closed. “Act oblivious to your flirting.”

“I could not be clearer that I was flirting,” he chuckles slowly, taking the book away from you and placing it on the counter. “And I would’ve waited another six months.”

“You would get bored.”

“Of you? Never,” is all that is said before you doze off and he shuts off the lights.

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Knowing that it's cloudy above

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Knowing that it's cloudy above

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love

thank you for reading! let me know if you liked it!!!! love you guys so much!

[foreverrogers]

peter. thighs. peter being obsessed with his partner’s thighs.

peter is a thigh man and a tits man and that is my stance. all i could think about when i read this was facesitting so uhhh.... smut under the cut

okay but even in a non-sexual context, this boy would always have his hand resting on your thigh when you're sitting next to each other, forever a comforting force as he rubs his thumb back and forth against your skin and holds this small piece of physical contact.

but at the same time he would absolutely use the constant contact to tease you when you least expect it, especially if you're wearing a skirt or dress and the trail of bare skin just seems too inviting. back seats of cabs and table cloths at restaurants are no match for the way peter always needs to be touching you, slips his hand between your legs until he's skating up enough it hitches your breath, makes you glare at him and mutter something about being in public while he smirks at you.

and in bed there would always be some sort of grasp on your thighs, whether it be a bruising grip keeping your leg hiked up around his waist as he fucks into you, kissing down the inside of your thighs and leaving tiny lovebites before he eats you out, or, the thing i physically cannot get out of my head, those hands splayed around the outside of your thighs pinning you to his mouth as you ride his face.

I'm convinced the first time peter suggests it, it's because he wants to feel the pressure of your thighs lock around his face. you've been lazily making out in bed for god knows how long, you in his lap with your thighs slotted around his, and when the arm around your waist presses you so close you have to kneel up peter's only thought is of how easy it would be to slide down and have you right over his face.

"what d'you think about trying something?"

you narrow your eyes at him, can't help the small smirk you give when you notice how hopeful he looks, bites his lip as he blinks up at your through those lashes. "like what?"

"like..." he trails off, and you watch him flush a little as he struggles to just come out and ask for it, instead uses his grip on your waist to keep you on your knees as he slides onto his back. your mouth sets into a small gape as you watch him, find the idea of it immediately ignites the well of heat in the pit of your stomach. you're quiet for so long peter starts to think you're trying to say no, flushes deeper with a tinge of embarrassment as he leans up against his elbow, his other hand still at your waist. "you don't want to?"

"I... didn't say that." he smiles a little when you push him back flat against the mattress. your skirt has already pooled above your hips, and with only the this barrier of your panties inches away peter can already smell the arousal you seem reluctant to admit.

he licks his lips, like he's hungry for it, like he's about to start drooling all over the sheets if he doesn't get to taste you soon.

"you sure?"

"god, yes."

his hands slip behind you, firm on the swell of your ass as he encourages you up towards him until you're hovering over his face. his fingers tease the band of your panties, holds your gaze as he slowly starts to tug them down your legs. you lift each knee one by one, let him slip the fabric off of your body and then you're bare, so close he can smell the hot arousal pooling in your lower half.

"you ready?" you nod, already find yourself speechless despite what you knew was coming. "tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

"yeah," you breathe, and then large hands are grasping the sides of your thighs, gentle pressure urging you down until you're close enough to taste.

the feeling of his mouth on you is like a different type of euphoric, tongue circling your clit before sucking the small bundle between his lips, keeps his eyes trained on yours the whole time.

you're still uncertain, though, still think you might hurt him, have to consciously resist the writhing urge to chase the friction by rocking against his face.

the force of his hands around your thighs tells you he notices, also tells you that the restraint isn't necessary, presses you so firmly against him that it sends a fresh shock of pleasure up your spine, makes you grip the headboard in front of you as you throw your head back. it also makes the first circle of your hips involuntary.

once he feels it, he needs more, hums his approval against your clit and urges your movement with every tug to your thighs.

"god, feels so fucking good, pete. so perfect."

it doesn't take long for it all to overtake you, your free hand tangling through his hair as the rocking of your hips picks up, hardly needs his encouragement anymore before you're riding his face.

peter feels it build, the way your thighs flex and tighten under his touch and around his face, drowns him in the sweet warmth of you surrounding him.

he would be lying if he said that wasn't what he was chasing when he makes you cum, feel your slick drip down his chin and digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs as they lock around his face, trembling as he works you through the shattering orgasm.

when you finally breathe out a shaky sigh and start to lean up on your knees he kisses the inside of your thighs, nips at the delicate skin until you're grinning down at him.

he truly is a sight there, between your legs, mouth and chin sticky and glistening.

"we made a mess," you smile, reach down to try and clean up his face.

he grins right back up at you. "might as well make some more before we have to change the sheets."

[peppermintsparker]

tonight (is gonna be the loneliest)

summary -- in which you're in love with peter parker, only he's not in love with you. warnings -- fucking angst on top of angst. mentions character death (uncle ben and r's father), tiny not even bad explicit language, peter parker is lowkey an asshole in this authors note -- inspired by the lonelist by maneskin. proof read a little, not edited. gif not mine.

You had grown up next door to Peter Parker, he had been your best friend since the two of you were six years old and it hadn’t changed over the years. If you went digging through attics or basements, you’d find hundreds of pictures documenting two children growing up side-by-side into teenagers. The growth charts in the houses were faded now, but you could still make out initials and numbers, and smiley faces. A childhood spent so closely together, families practically weaved together. Peter Parker was part of you.

You’re not sure where along the line you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe as a ten year old when you’d finally learnt how to do the bunny loops to tie your shoelaces by yourself, and Peter spun the two of you around in circles in celebration. Maybe as a thirteen year old when you’d had your heart broken and Peter sat up with you all night to dry your tears. Or, maybe as a sixteen year old when you noticed the way he started looking at Gwen Stacey and you realised that Peter Parker was a boy you couldn’t have.

Now seniors at Midtown High School, you knew things were about to change drastically. Life revolved around homework, college applications, extra credit work, serious boyfriends, and making the most out of a school year that would be drawing to a close soon. Gone were the days of paper planes, skinned knees, hanging upside down until the two of you were red in the face. And, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t tear you up inside.

“Are you coming over tomorrow, Pete?” You asked on the walk home, sharing an earbud as you listened to the Peter + Y/n playlist, carefully curated over the years. The backpack you had since freshman year, splitting at the seams, was full of textbooks and homework, and you knew if you didn’t get it started tonight it was highly likely you’d procrastinate.

“Can’t, sorry bub.” Peter was nice enough to sound apologetic, and it hadn’t been the answer you’d been expecting. In the twelve years of friendship, you’d never not spent a Saturday together and it hurt you a little to know Peter was suddenly unavailable. “I can come over on Sunday though? We’ll start our assignment together.”

You shrugged in response, taking out the earbud as you reached your front steps. A quick goodbye was said before you ran up them and through the heavy front door, ignoring the way your backpack knocked against your back with enough force to leave bruises. Peter followed, stopping when the door slammed shut without enough time for him to slip through. Unsure if you wanted time alone or not, the boy decided it was perhaps better to leave you for now; he’d see you on Sunday.

Saturday was an incredibly boring day, for you anyway. You spent most of the day in a too-big sweater and some pj shorts, hunched over your desk as you worked through an English class essay. It felt weird not being with Peter, like something was missing and you wondered what he was doing. You wondered if he was lonely, wondered if Peter was doing anything even remotely close to exciting. You’d ask tomorrow, you decided.

Sunday rolled around, and you sat on the stairs outside your front door waiting for him to turn up, but he never did. Peter Parker, for all his lateness when it came to school, was never late for you. He had sworn against being late after he was five minutes late to your ninth birthday party, quite by accident, only to turn up and discover that nobody had come anyway; you’d been most hurt at the thought of Peter not being there.

“Come on love, dinner’s ready.” Your mom called you inside at 5pm, tea towel draped across her shoulder. You were silent as you stood and followed her, holding in all the heartbreak you were sure you’d cry into your pillow that night anyway. Peter had shown up during dinner, looking apologetic and peaky, and your mom served him some dinner and you had to pretend that his actions hadn’t cut deep inside.

Peter left after dinner, citing that his Aunt May needed help with something, and when you rounded the table for a hug, Peter didn’t stay long enough to give you the chance. Despite the action being unnecessary, you walked him to the front door and as it closed behind him, you collapsed onto the stair behind you and let yourself cry. Nothing needed to be said, the actions were enough, Peter Parker no longer saw you as a friend.

You took to ignoring him at school after that, much to his confusion. When his Uncle Ben passed away, you took Aunt May some condolence flowers and some prepared meals. “Mom said you’re welcome over anytime, which you know anyway.” You explained into a hug, feeling your own tears burn at your eyes. “She knows how you’re feeling, and said you don’t have to grieve alone. You’re not alone, Aunt May.”

A sympathetic smile sent in Peter’s direction before you stepped out of the Parker residence, unsure if you’d ever step back inside once again. Things had changed even more after that, Peter had become obsessed with avenging his Uncle’s death, fuelled by the need to catch his killer, and it was obvious that he didn’t have time for silly friendships anymore. Even if Peter Parker was still the biggest part of you.

When the seventh anniversary of your fathers passing rolled around, you found yourself crying in the arms of Aunt May. Your mom had gone to visit her mother in law for the weekend; her health had been declining in recent months, and having no other children, your mom figured it was only right for her to spend some time with her. You promised you’d be fine alone, said the Parkers were right next door if you needed them. And you did, more than ever. But where Peter failed, Aunt May succeeded.

“He should be here,” you wailed, tears coming thick and fast as you felt yourself breaking down. Peter had been there for every anniversary, every first since, and when you cried for your father, Peter had been the one to hold your hand, encouraging you to let it all out. “Peter should be here. Why isn’t he here? What could be more important?”

You’d fallen asleep on their couch that night, cheeks sticky from tears and throat raw from crying so hard. Eleven am saw you waking up to the sound of May lecturing Peter, “she needed you. You weren’t there when she needed you the most. Where were you, Peter? Where were you because you sure as hell weren’t here when it mattered the most?”

You had left when Peter Parker mumbled out that he was with Gwen Stacy; didn’t stay long enough for the apologies that you didn’t think you’d get to hear. But when Gwen’s father passed away, and Peter withdrew himself from the girl, Peter climbed through your window begging forgiveness.

“I waited for you that Sunday, and you didn’t come,” you cried, grateful your mom had been working a night shift at the local hospital. Peter could feel his heart crack at your tears, wanting to console you but moving felt impossible. “You came for dinner, and didn’t even hug me goodbye. You never leave without hugging me! And you weren’t there. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter practically stumbled over his words, unsure if you’d believe him. He hoped you would, but he’d been such an awful friend to you lately that he wasn’t sure if you’d forgive him. Not that he’d blame you if you chose not to. “Believe me bub, I’m so so sorry. God, if I could turn back time I would, I’d spend every single second with you instead of with Gwen. I’d have held you whilst you cried instead of kissing Gwen. Believe me, I would have.”

Bile rose in your throat at the statement, and you swallowed it back down. You’d been in love with Peter for years now, he’d always been part of you. Twelve years of friendship; shared skinned knees, hanging upside down until you were red in the face, a silly marriage pact, tears, laughter. Peter had been your awkward first kiss aged fourteen when you worried that nobody would ever want to kiss you. You were so in love with your best friend, and wishful thinking had you hoping he loved you too.

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “I’ve loved you for longer than I think I can remember. Maybe I started loving you when we were ten and you twirled me around after I learnt to tie my shoelaces alone. Or maybe it started at thirteen when you stayed with me all night to dry my tears after that jerk broke my heart. Maybe at fourteen after you were my first kiss when I worried nobody would kiss me. It was confirmed at sixteen though, when you started looking at Gwen Stacy differently and I knew you were a boy that would never be mine.”

There, it was all out in the open now. A confession you could never take back, words you never thought you’d spill. Peter looked lost for words, opening and closing his mouth eerily like a fish as he tried to think of something to say. The right thing to say. The thing you wished he’d say more than anything: I love you too.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, he turned and left your house. Leaving you alone for the last time ever.

Peter Parker will always be the saddest part of you. The part of you that would never be yours.

[outoftheseine]

- TASM!PETER PARKER FIC RECS -

here is to my favorite spiderman

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

when worlds collide • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @wonderswritings (angst, death)

worth: the series • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @slytherheign (uhhh very angsty)

body bag • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @masterofmunson (enemies to lovers, roommates, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries)

bloody love • tasm!peter parker x reader part 2

↳ by @parkerpeter24 (hanahaki!au, so much angst, unrequited love, blood, surgery, vomiting, mentions of cancer)

ONE-SHOTS

best kinds of kisses • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @ash5monster01 (self doubt, fluff)

band-aid brand • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @kaylawritesfics (injuries, very fluffy)

crush • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @ptersparkers (mild angst, fluff)

the waiter • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @literaila (our peter is jealous, pure fluff)

i know • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @vivwritesfics (fluff)

scared to breath • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @mgparker (ahh so much angst :(, hurt/comfort)

expensive camera lens • tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

↳ by @monsterwho (angst, fire, hurt/comfort)

campus • college!tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @webslingingslasher (angst, fluff, smut)

used up tears • peter parker x reader

↳ by @raribella (very very angsty, heartbreaking, soulwrenching, mentions of death of a loved one)

tonight (is gonna be the loneliest) • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @peppermintsparker (angst angst angst, death of loved ones, unrequited love)

i know that voice • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @stylesparker (fluff, humour)

nightmares • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @katyswrites (angst :(, nightmares, mentions of death of a loved one, hurt/comfort, grief, fluff)

hold my body tight even on my lowest nights • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @venus616 (implied mental ilnesses, mild angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

honeybody • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @luveline (fluff, mentions of self-harm, strangers to friends to lovers)

doughnuts • tasm!peter parker x fem!afab!reader

↳ by @forourmoons (very fluffy)

cooties • tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

↳ by @msgorillagripcoochie (fluff fluff fluff)

fire alarms • tasm!peter parker x reader

↳ by @spideystevie (fluff)

[strawberrysodaslut]

tasm!peter parker x fem reader enemies/rivals to lovers? maybe with some smut at the end?

My Rival - Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[ main masterlist ]

[ peter parker masterlist ]

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

all of my smut and other nsfw posts are 18+

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

word count: 2k

warnings: smutty smut, fingering, titty worship, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) rivals to lovers, peter being a softie

summary: you and peter had been bitter rivals for years, but when your respective families grow sick of your bickering and send the two of you on a camping trip, you discover where that resentment really comes from

a/n: loved this request, it fit really well with day 4 of my writing challenge! this is also the second story i’ve written today so i’m feeling super proud of myself.

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Peter Parker was a lot of things.

He was smart, a good photographer, and top of his class in nearly everything, but there was something only you seemed to see when it came to him.

Peter Parker, was a pain in the ass.

It wasn't that he'd show off in class, you do that too- though mainly to shut him up, it was the way he would do it; like he was smarter than everyone else.

His smug, 'holier than thou' attitude really pissed you off. And you were sure to make him know it.

Peter wasn’t shy when it came to hating you either, rolling his eyes when you answered a question and snickering when you got it wrong. Muttering insults across the room until you snapped and winded up in detention for ‘strong language’.

He’d hated you since you were in third grade, always finding a way to push your buttons. Whether it came to your looks, your intelligence, and when he got older, your body and sex life, quickly learning that would drive you off of the edge.

Your teachers, friends and even your parents were sick of your constant bickering with Peter, so, your folks and Peter's aunt came to an agreement. They would send the two of you on a camping trip.

Of course, you didn't know Peter would be there until you got to the site.

"What the hell are you doing here Parker?" You asked, walking out of your car to where he was setting up his tent. "This is our campsite."

He looks up at you, an annoyed expression clouding his face, "Our?" He asks, gesturing to your parent's car that was now driving away from you.

You tried to chase after the car, but it was no use. You scoffed, walking away from Peter to have a less than friendly conversation with your parents.

After half an hour of you arguing, cursing, and begging your parents to come back and get you away from Peter, you finally gave up. Walking back to the site to see Peter on the phone- presumably with his aunt.

"Look just-" he stops when he sees you, "come pick me up, or her, I don't care just..." he pauses, "yes she's here... no she can't hear you."

For the next couple of minutes, you can vaguely hear Peter's aunt tell him off, him adding an "okay" or a "yep" every couple of minutes. Eventually, he says goodbye and hangs up the phone, turning to you.

"Looks like our families set us up." He said, smacking his lip together and returning to the mess of a tent he was trying to make.

You decide to stop bitching and help, you need a place to sleep tonight. You sit next to him, helping him figure out how to set up the tent. Once you're done, you grab your duffle bag, shoving it into the completed tent and sitting in one of the two camp chairs.

Peter sits in the other, pulling two packets of noodles out of his backpack. “You hungry?” He asks, waving the noodles around.

You almost let a smile slip, but you nod, “What flavour are they?” You ask, leaning forward to get a closer look.

Peter tosses the packets at you, “Just chicken noodles.” He replies, standing up. “I’m gonna get some firewood, you need anything?” He asks, his voice showing he had to force himself to be even somewhat nice to you.

You don’t give him the same honour, “From you? No.” You say, rolling your eyes.

His eyes darken, “God your so fuckin-“ He closes his mouth, pausing to think, and walks away.

Huh, you thought, he can shut up.

The rest of the night was no less than awkward, you didn’t speak once, barring a quick thank you as he passed you your bowl of noodles.

You had packed marshmallows, so you brought them out for the two of you to enjoy. But not even the fluffy

You felt the pit in your stomach as the silence filled you with anxiety, so you decided to excuse yourself, “I’m gonna get changed,” you muttered, heading into the tent.

Once you were changed, you didn’t feel like going back to the fire, opting to try and sleep early so this waste of a camping trip could be over.

You laid in your sleeping bag, completely unable to fall asleep, of course, you couldn’t- it wasn’t past 8:30. But determined to keep away from the awkwardness, you still tried to fall asleep.

After a couple of hours, Peter enters the tent, “You alright?” He asked, looking at you eerily as he takes off his jacket and t-shirt, replacing them with a sweatshirt. He decides to keep the same sweatpants on, climbing over you to hop in his seeping bad.

You nod, “Yeah, just tired.”

He snickers, “tired of being annoying?” He stretches out, his sweatshirt riding up to show the bottom of his stomach, you can’t help but bite your lip.

“Something like that,” you say, not wanting to get into another fight.

He doesn’t seem to get the point, “What? You’re being silent? How will you piss me off?” He says, rolling towards you.

You bite your lip, pissed off but too exhausted to filter your thoughts. “What the fuck is your problem?” You asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” He says, sitting back.

You followed, sitting up, “What’s your problem with me? Why do you hate me so much?”

His eyes darken, “I’m going to sleep,” He rolls over.

You slip out of your beanbag, determined to get an answer, or at least to piss him off. “No, tell me. Why are you so obsessed with hating me? What did I do to you? What in gods name could-“

You were cut off by Peter rolling over, grabbing your face and pushing his lips against yours. Against your better judgement, you immediately reciprocate.

He runs his hands through your hair and tugs, causing you to moan into his mouth. He uses your open mouth to push his tongue into your mouth, immediately dominating the kiss.

You grab at his sweatshirt, trying to pull it off of him. He groans, helping you shed the fabric off of himself. Immediately pulling your t-shirt off of your body and pushing you onto your back.

He takes in the sight of your breasts, “fuck…” he mutters, reaching down to pull your sweatpants off.

You pull him back to you as he kicks off his own sweatpants, leaning down to kiss you. He cups your cunt through your panties, causing you to moan in his mouth.

He can feel the wet spot on your underwear, he smirks into the kiss. “So fucking wet, I haven’t even touched you yet.” He pushes your underwear to the side, dipping his finger through your slit, collecting slick. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix that pup.”

Peter pushes two fingers into you and curling them, you moan, burying your face into his neck and biting down to suck a bruise. He groans, moving his thumb to rub at your clit.

You moan again, bucking your hips into his fingers. He continues to fuck you with his fingers at a ravenous pace, trying to memorise every part of your cunt.

He finally hits your sweet spot, you gasp, gripping onto the hand inside you with your own hand. “There’s our girl…” He mutters, leaning down mouth at your breast.

You moan at the triple stimulation, your high washing over you like a tidal wave. The coil in your stomach snaps the second it appears, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you cum.

Peter’s hand fucks you through the overstimulation, finally pulling his fingers out of you.

He smirks, “I think that’s the best sound you’ve ever made, finally able to say something without pissing me off” He mutters, kissing the corner of your lip.

You’re still mewling, coming down from your high when he moves back to your lips, lazily making out with you.

You press your hand to his face, rolling your hips up into his. He lets out a grunt, grinding your hips to meet your rolls, you moan into his mouth.

Slowly, he dips his hand into your waistband and pulling down your panties, moving to also take off his boxers.

You find it hard not to stare at his cock, its length is… intimidating, to say the least. He notices your nerves, moving to give you a surprisingly soft kiss.

“Relax baby…” he whispers, “this still okay?”

You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do… I really do.” You say, but your nerves don’t leave your face.

He smiles, “How about this.” He lines his cock up, dragging it through your slick before pushing his shaft flat between your pussylips.

You whine, gripping onto his shoulders as he grinds his cock against you. A moan slips out of you as you roll your hips against his.

“Fuck…” He moans, leaning down to mouth at your breast once again. Biting your nipple before kissing it to soothe. He moves up to kiss your mouth, lazily making out with you.

Although the two of you are moving slow, you can feel the heat in your abdomen building up, the coil turning, ready to snap.

“Pete…” You moan out.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then down your jaw. “Cum for me baby,” He whispers. Rolling his hips further into you.

The wave rolls over you, instead of the hot, rushing high you hit earlier, this one is calming. All of your muscles seem to relax as Peter coaxes you through your high.

Peter looks down on you as you come back from your orgasm, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “That was so fucking hot, you’re so hot.”

He moves his cock, using the arousal you just coated him with as lubrication, he lines up with your entrance, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Ready?” He asks.

You nod, bucking your hips to try to catch his tip in your entrance. He tuts, moving the hair out of your face and slowly pushes in.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, “Fuckk, baby you’re so tight.” He moans, checking to see if you’re okay before bottoming out.

You let out a loud moan, pattering your hand around to find him, once you do, you grip tight. “You okay?” he asks. You nod, rolling your hips into his to encourage him to move.

He gets the message, pulling out so his tip barely grazes your entrance and fully thrusting back in. You let out a loud moan, gripping your free hand into his hair.

Peter finds a steady pace, his thrusts rough and fast as he sucks numerous amounts of hickeys to your neck and chest, pressing a soothing kiss into each of them before moving to make a new one.

He thrusts strangely, like he’s searching for your sweet spot, when he finds it your eyes roll to the back of your head, your pussy clamping down onto his cock. He repeats the motion until you’re a whimpering, moaning mess.

You feel that familiar pool in your abdomen pushing you towards your high. In no time Peter has you clenching down, practically screaming as you fall into your third high of the night. Peter is quick to follow, spilling his seed into you.

The two of you breathlessly come down from your highs. Collapsed against each other, pressing your foreheads together.

“Fuck…” he moans, pressing for a chaste kiss, “Guess our parents will be happy” He laughs

You giggle, “I’d be down to pretend to still hate you.” You say, playing with his now messy hair.

He chuckles, “Yeah, make ‘em believe they have to keep sending us on these trips.”

You smile, pulling him down for another kiss, he immediately reciprocates, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

He rolled the two of you over, manoeuvring the two of you into the sleeping bag, “Goodnight.” He whispers, slowly falling to sleep.

As you watch him sleep you think to yourself, maybe Peter Parker isn’t that bad after all.

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[literaila]

that look 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

“are we even now?” 

“not even close.” 

warnings: fluff, bit of angst, relationship problems (duh), kissing 

*

"oh no," peter says, from right beside you. "stop that." 

you've been sitting on the couch for the better part of an hour, waiting for takeout and trying to ignore peter's relentless attempts to tickle you and steal your book out of your hand. 

he's completely irritating and insistently stubborn, but every time you look at him with a glare he just smiles back, feigning complete innocence. 

and, if you're being completely honest, you're glad he's right there, distracting you every couple minutes or so. 

you look up at him, frowning. then back to the book in your hands, looking for something that isn't there. then back to peter, who is furrowing his brows at you. 

"what?" you ask. "stop what?" 

"that." 

peter gestures his head towards you, his eyes comically wide, a twitch of his lips making you glare back at him. 

"peter." 

"i'm serious," he says, shaking his head. "you've gotta stop." 

"sure," you say, looking back to your book. 

there's a beat where peter sits there waiting for your attention, and you grin down at your book, not really reading so much as watching his reaction through your peripherals. 

and then peter slides closer to you, his head ducking down in front of the pages. "you're still doing it," he says. 

"peter," you whine, trying to push his head out of the way. "i'm trying to read." 

"well i'm trying to sit here and watch. you're doing it on purpose," he whines back. 

"doing what?" 

"making that face," he says, nodding toward you. 

you blink, staring at him. 

peter groans and falls against your chest, mumbling something into the free skin there. he's effectively climbed onto your lap, making you drop the book and any sensibility you might've had at some point. 

"what face?" 

"that one," peter says, he leans up a little, lips quirked. "that look you make when you want me to kiss you." 

you scowl. 

and then peter laughs, and leans up a bit more. 

*

"peter," you say, head tilted up, eyes annoyed--and amused, if you look at the edges. "seriously? right here?" 

"it's not my fault," he responds, sugary sweet and smiling at you because he is, above all else, a bastard. a hazard upon the earth. 

and a completely fine boyfriend who agreed to go shopping with you--only if you would repay him in kind. 

this must be his idea of a downpayment. 

"yes, it is. you do this all the time," you complain, continuing with your shopping, even with a giant standing in your way, trying to distract you from the task at hand. "we are in a public place, i'm not just going to--" 

"all i'm saying is that if you were more careful with your eyes--" 

"seriously? cause you can go wait outside. they might even have those kiddie rides with the horses out front." 

peter puts a hand to his chest, mock offended. "are you kicking me out?" 

your face is completely blank--mostly because it's the only way you've managed to keep the smile off of it. "this is your version of mistletoe, isn't it?" 

"this is your version of mistletoe." 

you blink at him, lips pursed. 

peter laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and ruining the distance you had been keeping between the two of you. "that look," he whispers, slightly pained. 

"i don't even know what you're talking about." 

he scoffs. "yeah, right." 

"i don't!" you insist. "you just say that whenever you're feeling lonely--" 

peter digs a finger into your side. "whose fault is that?" 

you frown, considering it. 

the world continues to move around the two of you. your basket now on the floor, because peter has taken possession of your hands and your eyes and your heart. 

and he's got that smile on his face. 

the teasing, incredibly cruel one. insanely irresistible. 

"i'm kidding," he whispers to you after your brows have been furrowed for a moment too long. "you're doing fine." 

you snort. 

"...would be better if you'd stop making mean faces at me in the store." 

"i don't even--" 

he interrupts you with a kiss. 

a kiss that lasts far too long and is far too dizzying for the middle of a grocery store. 

and when he pulls back he smiles. 

and you blink, trying to regain consciousness. and then you clear your throat. "are we even now?" 

peter chuckles, letting you go and picking up the basket at your feet. he goes to stare very intensely at some condiments. 

and then he looks at you with another smile. 

"not even close," he says.  

*

peter won't look at you. not in the eyes, and not towards you. 

not that you blame him, really, but it's probably the first time he's done this. and probably the first time that you keep trying to reach him--and his brown eyes and open-book face--and can't. 

because he won't let you. 

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask him, quiet and soft. 

you're trying not to sound afraid. trying to keep your cool and not let this racing heart of yours show on your face. 

"what?" peter asks, washing a cup out in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. 

he's mumbling and not looking at you. 

"why you're upset," you say, smooth. "do you want to talk about it?" 

there's a frown on his face. he's biting his lip. "i'm not upset," he claims. 

but you watch him walk to the living room and sit down on the couch. he doesn't touch you, doesn't smile and say he's glad you’re home, or kiss you on the forehead. 

he doesn't even glance at you. 

and so you follow him, footsteps light like you're worried that any sudden movement will draw an attack. 

"is it about dinner?" you ask him, not really wanting to continue with this--this building fight that you can see practically in front of your eyes--but also not wanting him to sit in this. whatever it is. "i'm sorry, peter." 

finally, his eyes meet yours. he's scowling. "why are you sorry?" 

"it was unexpected. i didn't know that it was going to go that long. i should've--" you swallow. he's staring at you, and somehow, even though it was what you wanted, it's more intimidating than when he wasn't looking at you at all. "i should've texted you. or called. i don't know." 

"you told me that you couldn't make it," peter says. his voice is void of anything. 

"yeah, but i should've checked in again, i guess. made sure that you knew what was happening." 

"i knew." 

peter looks away. he messes with a magazine you left out on the coffee table. 

"you're upset," you say, still calm, though anxious. you tap your fingers on your leg, a bit restless. "i can see that you're upset." 

"not at you," peter whispers, just barely loud enough for you to hear. 

you bite your lip, watching him. 

there's a beat of silence. a mountain of tension between the two of you. 

"we had a date planned tonight," you say, mostly just aloud. "and i had to cancel because of a work thing. i'm sorry, peter, really. i'll communicate better next time. or check my schedule more thoroughly." 

you're saying this not for his benefit but for yours. 

just to fill the silence. get him to see that you mean it. 

"i can't imagine how disappointed i would feel if i was in your place," you add, whispering. 

and you blow out a breath, clearing your throat. 

peter doesn't say anything. he sticks to staring at the floor like it's going to tell him a secret. 

"i'll leave you alone. i'm going to go get changed, so--" 

"you don't have to be sorry." 

you blink. "what?" 

"i'm not mad at you." 

"...okay." 

"it was just a rough day," peter says, to the wall. "and i was looking forward to spending time with you." 

he doesn't add that any hope he had was ruined. 

he doesn't add that you canceled so last minute that he was probably already dressed and ready to go. 

he doesn't need to. 

you take a couple of steps toward him. "me too." 

peter looks up, face blank. "yeah?" 

you nod. "i was thinking about quitting," you tell him, "as soon as they told me about the dinner." 

there's a quirk of his lip. "you love your job." 

"i love you more." 

and at that, an actual smile appears on his face, soft and smooth, clearing out any leftover wrinkles. "yeah?" 

you walk closer to him, moving between his legs, so you can look at him properly. 

and you don't say much else. 

but peter groans, throwing his head back as you mess with his hair. 

"that look," he says, out into the world, like a curse. "how can i stay mad when you have that look on your face?" 

he's not asking you. 

but you kiss him anyway. 

*

his lips are soft. they are rough and hard and pushing and pulling until you can't move away. 

peter has you in so deep, so tight that your skin is practically velcroed to his. there is glue deep inside you, keeping whatever sanity you have left in pieces. 

"peter," you whisper to him, between breaths and pleas and a million other things you can even begin to describe. 

he's smiling against your lips, pushing you back against your bed, and crawling on top of you. 

he's smothering you. 

and you have no ounce of energy, no want to complain. 

"yeah?" he asks pulling back so you can stare at his eyes. so you can appreciate the mischievous spark in his expression. and his smile. 

and the things that he's promised you. 

you grin at him, shaking your head. 

"that look," you say, and then kiss him again. 

peter laughs against you. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl​   @  invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[reysdriver]

Peter Parker Masterlist

✩ - Fluff ☾ - Angst 𖦹 - Smut

♡ - Xena's Favourites

Series/AU

Peter x BlackCat!Reader

Drabbles

Skate Park - ✩♡ - Your boyfriend tries teaching you how to ride a skateboard

Peter Knows Spider-Man! - ✩ - A boy in your gym class overhears you talking about your internet crush and says he knows him

Oneshots

Origins - ✩ - After an incident at Oscorp, your academic rival Peter Parker calls you to help with the sticky situation he's found himself in

Rooftops - ✩ - Your best friend Peter takes you up to a scenic height

Keeping Secrets - ☾♡ - Your boyfriend shows up at your window in the middle of the night asking for help

Science Fair - ✩ - You and Peter get paired up for an academic competition

The Boy Next Door - ✩ - You find yourself crushing on your new neighbour

Bondage - 𖦹 - Getting Peter to web your hand behind you while he eats you out

Mattress Acting - 𖦹 - You and Peter make a sex tape