#tasm fluff

[spiderfunkz]

hi! i’d love to know abt your fav headcanon(s) for tasm!peter and maybe a little oneshot of said headcanon(s)?

peter parker falls in love HARDDDDD!! i love him and his nerdy ass like aaaaghhhhhh. he's so cutesy and skrunkly i just wanna throw a rock at him 💕

peter parker is the type of person to go head over heels when he likes someone!! the type of person to steal a glance every time you're not looking. the type of person to secretly hope he'd get partnered up with you during class. the type of person to practice in front of the mirror before finally talking to you.

he's the type of person to notice every little thing about you. the pins on your bag of your favorite artists? he can name five songs. your favorite flowers? he walks past the flower shop every morning, hoping to buy you some one day. the way you always have that one mood ring on your finger, he finds it adorable.

he goes so flustered whenever you catch him glancing at you. his face turns all red and he starts giggling actually, your probably the reason he skips to school everyday, hands in pockets, twirling around in pure joy and excitement.

he'll brag to his friends on how he talked to you when in reality it was him saying happy birthday and you replying with a thank you along with a smile that surely gave him a cavity.

to summarize it up. peter parker doesn't just like someone. he loves them. pure admiration, adoration, infatuation, smitten. you're the light in his heart, the butterfly in a field of wildflowers, the red tulip in a field of white tulips.

peter has liked you for a while now.

it was a long day of classes, he could've just skipped but aunt may found out he was doing that too much and got pretty mad. besides, it's just one more class. a class he never really had to try in. should be easy right?

yes, but no.

you just switched classes to biology. sitting in the only empty chair, just two chairs away from peter. he saw you, and that's when he knew.

you were never late, unlike peter. every time he comes in you're already there, smiling awkwardly at the situation as mrs. moore lectured him. but what's the point? peter wasn't listening, he was too busy figuring out what emotion was on your mood ring, and spoiler alert! it was love.

it took him a lot of convincing and reassurance from gwen, but he finally got the courage to talk to you. not about how the weather is, or the same old "did you do the _ assignment yet?". he was going to ask you out on a totally friends-only, platonic date ( that goes so well it will end up with you and him holding hands! ).

"hi!" peter smiled, his hand playing with his hair. "hey, peter." he seemed nervous, you were too.

"um, so, i was wondering if you.. would.." he looked everywhere but your eyes, "..that if we could, maybe, um.. hangout? together? if you want to. obviously, you don't have to but um-"

"no yeah, i would love to peter!" you smiled. was it hot? it felt hot, your face felt hot, does peter notice? he probably does.

peter's heart was racing through a field, it was winning first place. "okay, good- great! i could um. pick you up? i'll text you. you have my number right? i could just um- you know..." he played with the hem of his jacket.

you nodded, "yeah i do." — "okay, we could meetup somewhere.. maybe the park? is that boring? the cinema? anything you'd like, i'm fine with anything you know. or we could just.. hang.."

you smile, "sure."

"really?"

"yeah definitely, either one. or we could do all of them, i've got nothing to do." — "okay, that's super! super- cool.. super cool. i'll text you, is that okay?"

you nodded, "of course."

"okay, i um- i'll go now. i should go now. i'll see you? later?" peter asks.

"yeah okay!" you wave happily as he walks backwards towards the exit, nearly bumping into 2, no, 3 now, students.

"text me!" you yell out.

peter nodded eagerly.

he walks out, knowing gwen is not gonna hear the end of this.

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

[dwindlinghaze]

reader pretending she (or they) doesn’t love peter back when he confesses because she is scared to lose him as a friend if they break up so after some angst and pining and avoiding feelings they end up together? ty!

main thing

(peter parker x reader)

summary : you're scared of losing peter as a friend by being more than friends with him.

contents : fluff, small angst ig, she they pronouns used!!! kind of short and rushed im so sorry but i love this concept a lot so thank you anon !!! 🫧🫧

a/n : im back!!!!! im really sorry if my writting is messy and stuff cuz i haven't been writing fics for months noww,, anyway i hope u like it 🫧☃️☁️ and a little rant here um i have this exact situation with a girl- i like her a lot and i knew she liked me back but i also happened to know that if we were to be together it will not last very long so we just ignore whatever is there between us. but don't worry lovelies r and peter's ending won't be like mine <3

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the hallway between classes were so full. crowded by students walking in eight cardinal directions. your head felt dizzy, it's like you're seeing everything underwater. your steps came to a halt when you were met with a row of lockers. palm against the cold metal as you gain back your stability.

peter must've seen you from the other side of the hall. frowning as he took in your state.

he walked over to you, cautiously. "you okay?"

you looked up to meet his eyes, immediately closing them back when the ceiling light hit your vision. "not feeling well."

peter placed his left palm over your cheek, rubbing them softly to soothe you. he didn't know if it helped but he smiled nevertheless when you nuzzled your face further into his hand.

you wanted peter to give you a hug, maybe his shoulder can be a good resting spot for your heavy head and his warmth can relax your muscles.

and of course. peter did. without you even asking.

"wanna go to the infirmary?" he asked softly, rubbing the side of your head as you completely lose all energy, so now he's the one that held you standing.

"mmh," you replied, not having the energy to form real words.

"alright then let's go," peter started to pull away but stopped midway when he felt you struggling.

"pete, i'm sorry i can't, i have to lay down," you whispered. so soft and low. if he weren't that close to you, he wouldn't hear it.

"that's alright, just slow steps," he encouraged.

he missed his class but he didn't care. he just wanted to be there with you. showing his affection because of his new slash old found love he has for you.

your migraine has not subsided at all the following day. you decided, for good, to skip class. there's no point in going to school when you're sick anyway right? you'll have ended up in a worse condition by the end of the day.

peter was searching for you left and right, he knew you were sick and he is worried sick about your whereabouts. he called you several times already but you never picked up.

when school finally finished, which for him was the longest six hours of his life, he immediately went to your house.

your mother was the one greeting him, saying that you're resting in the comfort of your bed. he went upstairs, after getting your mom's permission, and knocked on your door softly. "hey, it's me peter, can i come in?"

you gave him a very soft hum, thanks to his advanced hearing he can hear you just well.

you were lying on your bed, covered in tons of blankets. peter felt warmth rushing through his chest, seeing you like this. he approached you slowly and kneeled beside your bed.

"how are you feeling?" he asked ever so gently, hand on your shoulder with the blanket in between.

you peeked an eye open, your room was dimly lit, only your vanity lights were on. "better than yesterday," you answered, pushing yourself up slowly. "the migraine is not as bad as yesterday, my head is hurting- just a little."

"oh okay," peter replied. "do you need anything? i can bring you food or drink or water? do you need painkillers?"

you smiled, reaching for his hand, "i'm fine pete, just cold. can you turn up the ac please?"

peter did just that, jumping to his feet to take the remote.

after that you fell into a deep sleep again. peter was there the whole time. he was thinking about... stuff. stuff he wants to tell you.

he sat on your bed right beside your blanketed legs, his hands over them. he looked at you, your sleepy face, perfect hair, soft cheeks. you are his friend. best friend in the whole world. no one understands him like you did. just a few months ago he realised that his feelings may have grown.

it's not just a friendship kind of love but a lover kind of love.

he recalled the amount of time he had cried on your arms. laughed together with you. talk about embarrassing things he had done and had regretted. nobody knows him like you do. and peter would not let anybody know him like you do.

you're the only person that he can be vulnerable with. the only one that he can just be himself even if it's not the best. the only one he trusts.

"what are you thinking over there?" your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. he gave you a smile and you gave peter space for him to lie down.

"just thinking about thoughts... ?" peter answered but it's more like a question.

"thoughts about?"

"nothing."

"you know you can always tell me anything right? no matter what it is," you assured the boy.

"yeah..."

"so...?"

"you're sick right now, you should be resting," he said instead.

you sat up, stretching your muscles as you scrunched up your face. "i feel a whole lot better now... hey do you want some meal and we'll talk about whatever you are thinking about? cause by the look of your face, it's something that has been bothering you hm?."

peter thought about it for a while, but he really didn't have to. it was about time for him to tell you how he feels. he just hoped that you feel the same way.

your mom brought the two of you dinner to your room, you thanked her before she left and urged peter to eat. "pete?"

"yeah," he cleared his throat, "um i don't really know how to start this."

"it's okay, you can take as much time as you want, i'll be here," you said as you take a spoonful of the dinner.

that's also another thing about you that made his feelings even more clear. you never pushed him. always waiting for him to be ready.

"i like someone," he started. you stopped what you were doing and turn your focus fully on him. your heart felt like it has been crushed. "i know we never talk about y'know- this kind of stuff together but the thing is, i like her so much maybe i even love her, i don't know yet though cause i don't really know how love feels- but i sure do like her a lot."

"and does she know this?"

"no... but she knows now" peter answered, hoping that you'd get what he meant.

"what do you mean?"

peter sighed looking down at his lap, "well she's my best friend. my only friend actually. i really really want to be more than friends with them because she is everything to me. i smile every morning because i know i will see them later that day. i spent most of my time thinking about the two of us together. and you know just how worried i was when they didn't go to school because she was sick."

"peter-" you warned him.

"y/n, listen to me-"

"peter please don't," you whispered. you thought you would be jumping and giggling if peter ever confessed to you but instead it's the complete opposite. you don't want this. you can't have this no matter how much of you wanted him.

peter's eyes were brimming with emotion, shiny tears fighting their way not to roll down. "you don't feel the same do you?"

you wanted to say yes. yes you feel the same, you like him so much and that's what you're so worried about. "peter it's not that easy. we- we can't," you shook your head.

peter's brows knitted together, he was bitting the insides of his lower lip. "that's ok. i'll just go home now. i'm sorry for making things weird yeah? just forget everything i said. tomorrow is a new day." he forced a smile before he is out the door.

just like what peter has said 'tomorrow is a new day' so you acted like yesterday never happened. you walked into school, seeing peter by his locker. you smiled at him. "morning!"

"morning, y/n," peter said back, voice cracking.

"let's go to class," you suggested.

through out the day everything was just like how it used to be. you still sit besides each other. still eat lunch together. everything was the same... except that peter can't look at you for more than three seconds and you two don't talk as much anymore.

peter still walked you home, though there is no goodbye hug.

you wondered if you had made the wrong decision. what if you just accept your feelings and let peter in? but the thoughts of ever, god forbid, breaking up with him is what makes you back away from accepting his love.

you love peter so much. more than you can ever say. in a world of boys he's a gentleman. he proved so today. even after getting rejected and having his own heart torn into pieces, he still walked you home.

the next day though, peter seemed to be avoiding you.

you tried to come to him several times but he just gives you short replies. you couldn't blame him. he has every right to do so.

it has been two weeks since. you missed your peter so much. you missed his cheeky smile. his science jokes. his laugh that never fails to make you smile.

sure you can live without peter parker, but would it be as exciting? would you let the only person that knows you best slipped away like that just because you pretend to not return his feelings?

it was such an emotional rollercoaster. on one hand you want to wake up beside peter, but on the other you worried that he'll realize that he's better alone so you'd break up. you want to cuddle up next to him, but you fear he'll get sick of you and break up.

why does every intimate thought of him always ends up with breaking up?

you tried to bottle up your feeling until you can't anymore. so here you are now, knocking at his door.

he opened up, looking as tired as one can be. now that you really look at him, you notice his beautiful freckles that doted all over his nose and cheeks, his smile lines around his eyes, his pretty eyes that you love so much. even in his exhausted state he still looked so- so perfect.

"y/n? what're you doing here?" peter spoke.

"i want to talk to you." you mumbled, looking down at the pavement.

peter was silent. complete silence.

"i want to tell you that i do like you too, peter. i was just being dumb because you're my best friend for years and if we ever get together, what will happen when we break up? i don't want to lose you. so by pushing my feelings aside i can just continue like nothing happened... but i can't stop thinking about how i have hurt you. i completely denied and hurt your feelings and i can't forgive myself for that."

peter put a warm hand over your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"it's fine. if you don't want this then we don't have to." he said.

"but i want this."

"you do?"

"yes but-," you took a deep breath, "but what if we broke up?"

peter shook his head at that, "we haven't even got together yet and you're thinking of breaking up?"

"it's not funny."

"y/n look at me, i love you. i will not let that happen. and if you really think about it, what is there to be the reason of our break up?"

"i don't know something might come up."

"we know everything about each other, we understand each other. if there's something, i'm so so sure we can work it out," peter placed a hand on your cheek, forehead touching.

"really think so?"

"of course," he replied. "i'm also sorry for saying that so suddenly. i should've known better."

"it's okay peter, we're here."

"yeah we are, and we are not leaving each other yeah?"

"promise," you said.

[spydergaz]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ not a lot, just forever.

🍂📀🍁

word count : 654

cw: fluff, no actual pronouns used, peter is awkward as hell, idk your vibe, but it’s a good one, peter is a cranberries fan.

a/n: i haven’t properly written something in forever :/ but i’m trying i swear lol. i was also listening to Adrianne Lenker while writing this so that may have influenced this a bit.

the leaves crunch under your converses as you walk, your arms swinging loosely by your sides as you wave your hands in the breeze. you’re walking across campus to your next class, a routine you've grown fond of due to the simplicity of it all. you consider yourself a simple person, you enjoy small things like rocks and the sound of the river that flows under the bridge of your campus.

you’re also noticeably quiet, so much so that your teachers have stopped trying to get you to participate in group discussions. you don’t mind though, you’re content being by yourself.

and so is peter. he’s just as quiet as you, he always has headphones on. you can faintly hear his music, you like the fact that he likes the cranberries, you do too. but he tends to sit away from you, he doesn’t hate you, how could he? the way you skip around campus, the way you collect and paint rocks, the way you sit by the river, the way you’re so freely yourself.

his crush on you is something you’re oblivious too, and he’s too scared to even look at you. he’s read so many books on nature related topics that he might turn into a walking weed, he’s replayed a conversation with you in his head so much he could write a script about it. he wants to ask you to get coffee, he’s seen you sip coffee once or twice, maybe he’ll ask you to see a movie?

he knows you like superheroes, he sees the superman pin on your tote bag. but talking to you seems like his kryptonite, like he’ll die if he tries.

but today he’ll try, he’ll try and push past that fear and talk to you.

~

it’s the afternoon, you’re sitting on a bench and quietly sketching the trees in front of you. your foot lightly tapping on the grass to your music that plays softly in your headphones.

he feels like he’s being creepy, holding flowers for a person who doesn’t even know him. but he sighs and walks up to you, cringing at himself as he taps your shoulder.

“hi uhm, i’m not trying to be creepy but-“ he’s cut off by your eyes peering into his, he feels so small when you look at him with those pretty eyes.

“are those flowers?”

“for you.”

“me..?” you smile as he hands them to you, they’re some sunflowers, they’re fake, but the gesture is nice anyways. “the real ones are super expensive and uh-“

you shake your head and look up at him again. “i get it, it’s okay.” he nervously laughs, mindlessly fidgeting with his fingers.

“could i ask your name?” you reply with your name and he smiles, smiles that you trust him enough already for that. “i’m peter parker, i promise i’m a lot more composed usually.”

you laugh at the self deprecating joke.

“i’ve seen you in class.”

“well i don’t tend to turn invisible, i’ve seen you too. which is why i’m giving you flowers.”

you smile, you appreciate how nice he is and how awkward he is too. “i was- am asking you out by the way, if you’re… interested?” you nod, laughing a bit.

“well don’t laugh at me, i’m trying!” his voice is mockingly whiny as he laughs with you. “but you’re like.. okay with going on a date?” you nod again, stifling your laughter for his sake.

“how does a cafe sound?”

“i like the sound of that, I’m always in a mood for coffee.”

“when do you… wanna go?”

“tomorrow? after class?”

“holy shi- uh- yeah that’s okay.” and with that he stands there awkwardly before clearing his throat and nodding, sighing of relief. “yeah i’ll see you tomorrow! uh, i’ve gotta bounce.” you nod in response and wave him goodbye as he runs off, you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

© spydergaz.tumblr please don't claim my work as your own, copy it, or put it on different websites without my consent. Translations are welcome if you do not post them. ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

[periprose]

I don't know if my ask got 'eaten' or not, but I did send it while I was on the road so I may have screwed it up anyway. My ask is based on your reblog of the 3 word sentences and if you care to, it's a twofer based plot: numbers 12 and 18 (just do it and you look lost) because I am a dithering decision maker except!! when I am going somewhere in which case my overconfidence gets me in trouble, something Peter knows too well himself. Love your writing!

unfortunately it did but I love this prompt so thank you for resending it!

Prompts can be found here

Peter is fairly sure that he's the one who's always late to everything. Every single seminar for this new Oscorp tech breakdown, he's the one who's five minutes late, and he swears it's not his fault.

It's just that he always happens to run into Spider-Man duties. He always finds another old woman who needs to cross the street, or a newspaper stand that has just been stolen from, and then after saving the day, he can make time towards catching the next subway train to Oscorp and hopefully run up the stairs, through the door, into the lobby, elevator, and then to the board room with a minute to spare. It always works out better in his head. 

He doesn't understand why Harry needs him there. Peter knows technology stuff like the back of his hand– he already understood what the seminar leader who oversaw the development of the new tech was saying halfway through the meeting, and basically put the concluding points together before the meeting was even over. 

Peter is nothing if not a good friend. Or employee who will be sent off with a strict warning if he doesn’t at least try.

This time, though? Peter has just made it to the subway station, and his glance catches onto a woman with a muted blue handbag, looking mostly competent and professional in a blazer, staring at the map, very obviously confused. He decides to be a good civilian and take a moment to help her. Just as Peter Parker, good guy who has two extra minutes to spare. Not because she happens to be a little more pleasant to look at than the rest of the passerby. She does really have bright eyes, though, and the way they catch onto every written detail of the map has Peter wanting those eyes on him.

Unfortunately, as she’s dithering and Peter approaches a little too slowly, about to work up the nerve to ask if she needs help, she suddenly mutters “Just do it! Who cares…” with a sudden bout of confidence, and she walks off towards the train heading North. The same train Peter is due to take.

Peter is kind of elated by this, even though he knows he’s a total dork and he doesn’t actually have the courage to speak to her. Even though Harry makes life sound like a romance movie– that apparently all it takes is the right conversation starter– Peter knows he can’t manage it. He’ll trip over his words and make the wrong jokes, and she’ll give him a polite nod while secretly dialing 911.

He’s just happy to have a commute crush to stare at.

The southbound train arrives from the opposite side of the road, and loudly beeps as the doors open.

Peter’s Spider-Sense goes off and he sees that a bunch of people are starting to exit the train, right into the poor woman who gets turned around a bunch of times and then looks utterly lost. Helpless. Eyes widening with the telltale fear of someone who doesn’t know where they’re going. 

Well, we can’t have that, can we? Peter decides to saunter up to her and be her hero of the day.

/

You are so horrible with making decisions sometimes. Unless, of course, it’s taking a new journey somewhere, with directions you’re not exactly familiar with– for some reason leaping into it headfirst works better, cements it into your brain better if you have to travel around these parts around later, and you usually have the time to figure it out.

Of course, this time you’re late. This time, when you need to present a great big presentation at Oscorp, where your big new tech job is, you’re late, and you had to be overconfident about figuring out the directions.

God, couldn’t you have just asked for help?

As you’re beginning to spiral– was it the north train, or the south, will this crowd ever dissipate properly, and is there time to look at your notes for your presentation on the train?– someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.” A friendly looking guy with warm brown hair, and eyes, is staring at you, not unkindly. He pulls you aside, out of the crowd, and you’re thankful– but a little wary. 

“You look lost. Are you good?” The man has to lean in closer to you, and kind of yell-speak over the crowd, who are finally moving away to the above ground.

“Uh… No. I’ll be honest.” You cross your arms and huff, glad that someone could see that you needed help, and you feel a little happy that your saviour happened to be a smart, handsome guy who doesn’t look particularly judgemental, and you pull out your phone from your bag. “I’m trying to get to–”

“Oscorp?” He reads your phone and blinks, and then looks affronted that he spoke so soon. “Sorry. I just read your phone screen– I know that’s not proper etiquette. I’m going there too.”

“Uh-huh.” You fix your eyes on him, and Peter feels a funny twinge in his heart– something warm and soft as you size him up, making your own teasing assumptions of him. You half-smirk. “How do I know I can trust you? That you won’t just lead me to a random dungeon full of murdered women?”

You feel that you might’ve scared him off– you always come off a little too strong.

“Uhhhh, I was going to say I probably don’t look like a serial killer, but then again, you never know as a woman, right? Plus that’s some unnecessary bias and profiling on my part.” Peter fishes around in his pocket for his Oscorp ID, snorting at your joke, but also knowing that you’re not wrong to be concerned. “See? I’m Peter Parker. One of Oscorp’s biotech engineers.”

“Alliterative. Very cool.” You smile at him genuinely, glad to see that he is worth trusting, and he’s about to say something when the northbound train comes in.

“Hey, that’s us. Just two stops and then we’re at Oscorp.” Peter lets you walk ahead of him into the train, and you do so with some speed.

“Nervous?” He asks as the train starts going. He’s holding onto the loop for stability, while you lean against an arm rail. The train is kind of packed– and Peter is just a teeny bit happy for it, since it means he gets to stand a little close to you. He’s not trying to be a creep– you’re just cute.

“Very.” You shake out your hands, trying to chill out, and then reach inside your bag for your cue cards. “I’m starting out as a software developer– working on a genome editing program– and I’m doing a presentation on that today.”

“Oh, I’m in that seminar too. Although usually it’s just some dude presenting… not exactly someone like you.” Peter immediately facepalms, hiding in his hands for a moment before shaking his head, brown hair flopping about. “Sorry, I just mean… he’s not a cute girl, you know?”

Nice going, Parker. Peter groans and his hands remain on his face now, totally embarrassed by what he’s said.

“Oh–” You turn to him, but Peter interrupts you first.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean your looks are everything– I know how hard it is to be a woman in STEM, to get judged on things that have nothing to do with your credentials–” Peter swallows and sighs. “I’m not saying you were hired for your face– I’m sure you’re a very intelligent person.”

Peter feels your hand hesitantly touch his and move them, so he can get a look at your expression. You don’t look upset, just flattered, maybe with a hint of a laugh crossing your eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way. Good to know you’re not a typical STEM bro, though.” You read through your notes again, and Peter feels a bit of relief. “Thanks, by the way. You’re a cute guy too.”

You don’t know where exactly that came from, maybe an unexpected bout of courage bolstered by the adrenaline from your oncoming presentation, but it’s not like it’s false– this guy is very cute and you know you’re going to struggle if you have to work with him. You can’t quite look at Peter for the rest of the train ride, staring out the window. You catch a little grin on his face.

/

“So, genome editing, huh? That’s actually part of my work right now. Except more in the lab at the moment– working on synthesising frog DNA.” Peter shudders jokingly, and you laugh as you walk with him.

“Yeah, I’m basically the one who made the software program you’ll be using from now on. I just gotta make it easy for you guys to understand.” You inhale, and Peter can see that you’re still really nervous about your presentation. 

“Hey.” He gives you a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, in front of the building. “You got this.”

“Really?” You look up at him, bright eyes glassy with sudden fears. “But you don’t really know me, right? For all you know, I’m going to run out of the room with stage fright.”

“No way.” Peter grins, self assuredly. “You wouldn’t be talking to an almost stranger if that was true.”

“I mean… kind of true. I just don’t want to mess up.” You sigh and pinch your forehead, thinking it over.

“Okay, how about this?” Peter decides on something silly, but something that also allows him to shoot his shot. When else was a pretty software developer going to just fall into his lap like this?

He ignores that image. 

“If you don’t ace this presentation: who cares? People might be a little awkward about it, but they’re just people. It’s not a big deal.” Peter starts, and he sees you visibly brighten a little at that. “But if you do, you win something real special: a coffee date with Peter Parker.”

“Oh, I do?” You snort at his blatant flirting, but you can’t help but feel better with that potential date hanging over your shoulder. Peter Parker happens to be very sweet, at least so far, and you want to see just how far this could go. “Okay. I like the sound of that, but acing this presentation probably involves being there on time…”

You and Peter run through the lobby into the elevator– and you swallow your fears as you enter the boardroom, apologizing to the many developers and technicians about having to make them wait.

/

At the end of your very enlightening presentation– Peter knew there had to be no way he knew everything about this particular software since he had never tried it yet, and the fact that the original presenter seemed to be kind of vague on the details made it seem simpler than it was– you smile at him, and Peter grins back, knowing that he’s just won himself a date with you. 

[heyitsme1040]

Comfort the Pain Away [p.p]

summary : Your period was never a pleasant week to deal with. You were grateful to Peter, always happily being by your side more than usual wherever it came. He made sure to think of everything when he came over after a patrol. Your evenings together often consisted of being cuddled up together watching TV and just talking. 

pairings : TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

warnings : Mentions of cramps (if I missed anything let me know!)

word count : 700

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day eleven of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘comfort show/movie’. As a science nerd I think The Big Band Theory is an easy go-to show. It may not be my number one comfort show, but it is definitely in the top ten for me. 

You groaned as another intense cramp racked through you. Readjusting your heating pad, sinking deeper under your blankets with a sigh as the heat slowly eased your pain. Pulling the blanket higher around you, you wait for Peter to stop by. It was only the first day of your period, but you wanted the comfort your boyfriend brought. Knowing his patrol just started, you turn on the TV to distract you from the steady ache in your abdomen. Not wanting something you’d have to pay much attention to, you put on The Big Bang Theory. It was a funny, surprisingly scientifically accurate, easy to watch show. Honestly, you were surprised that Peter hadn’t seen it before the two of you got together. 

As the episodes went by, your heating pad had quickly stopped being hot and your cramps had picked up in intensity. Not knowing how else to help them be less intense, you tried to find a position that was comfortable to lay in. You’d curled yourself around a pillow, and tried to figure out how much longer until you could take more Pamprin. You heard the window to your bedroom open as Peter tripped on his way into the room. You laughed  at Peter’s clumsy nature before quickly groaning at the wave of pain it caused. 

Peter got up from where he was sprawled on the ground before pulling his mask off, “Hi bug, how’re you doing?” 

“This sucks,” you groan.

“I’m sorry,” Peter works on removing his suit. “What can I do to help?”

“Would you mind reheating this? Then we can cuddle.”

Peter tied his sleep pants and began pulling a shirt over his head, “I’d be happy to. Do you want a bottle of water too? When was the last time you took medicine?”

“Please, and I can take another dose in like thirty minutes.”

Peter bent over to kiss you before stepping out of the room. You smiled, curious how you found such a caring boyfriend. You heard the fridge open then close as you watched the TV. Peter’s footsteps echoed through the apartment as he walked back to your shared room. Peter returned with the bottle of water and freshly warmed heating pad. Handing you the heat pad, Peter walked around the bed to lay beside you. 

He pulled you into his side as he laid atop the covers. He rolled you over slightly to press his chest against your back, reaching a hand around you to hold your heat pad in place. 

“What time is it?” You asked, having lost track of time waiting for him to get home. 

“It’s a little past nine,” Peter checked his phone.

“You’re home early.”

“My phone notified me that your period started today.”

“What?”

You felt Peter shrug at your shocked reaction. “I downloaded the same app you use to track it. I don’t like when you’re in pain, so I like to know when you’re on your period. That way I can make sure to be home sooner in case you need me.”

“That’s sweet,” you teared up. “Sorry, I don’t know why that’s making me emotional.” 

“Technically, it’s due to a higher level of hormones. The heightened level of estrogen can make someone more persuaded by their emotional state.”

“Babe,” you laugh, “you’re doing the thing again.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“No! It’s cute, I love it. I just also love that you have no idea when you’re doing it.”

Peter buried his head against your shoulder. You felt his arm tighten around you. 

“What season are we on now?” Peter tried to change the subject. 

“It’s the one where Amy and Sheldon become official, and Howard becomes an astronaut,” you explain. 

Peter hums in acknowledgement. You take a deep breath, enjoying the simple evening together. You could never get enough of Peter’s attention, loving when he just held you. The two of you settled in for the night, watching TV until you fell asleep. The discomfort and pain of your period ebbed away. The last thing you were aware of before falling into a peaceful sleep was Peter kissing your temple and telling you he loved you. 

Author’s Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[conniesanchor]

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑

ik i have a million requests to work on rn, but this is the only way im going to get out of my writing slump, so enjoy.

summary: peter shows up bloody and bruised, and you’ll always be there to help him.

you were used to peter coming through your window. he was your boyfriend, and you loved him. you just didn't love when he showed up covered in blood. not because you hated what he did, you loved how selfless he was.

gently tapping on your window (with the rhythm he always used in order to not scare you), he smiled at you when you noticed him. rushing over to let him in, you saw the bruises that were normally across his torso, were on his face this time. when you opened the window, he immediately fell into you. his head in your shoulder and his arms around your waist.

"pete, baby. let's go to the bathroom, get you all cleaned up." you grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom. you pushed him to sit on the toilet and then opened the medicine cabinet to get some neosporin you got, especially for him, because you know that he hates the alcohol.

peter rarely talked when you were cleaning him up. this time was different, though, neither or you knew why, but you knew it was different. "im sorry, honey," he started. "i know how this makes you feel all the time and if you never want me to go back out there, i won't."

you paused, lifting his chin up so he was looking at you, "peter, i love you. okay? all of you. your selfishness, your love for this city, all of it. i love what you do," you mumbled. "nothing will ever change that. i hate it when you get hurt, but that doesn't mean i want you to stop doing what you love."

"i love you more than i love saving people."

smiling, you resumed your previous actions, "and im very glad, but im not going to make you choose, okay?" he nodded. "suit off, please."

even in his state of exhaustion, he still found it in himself to smile at the request, "you first."

"in your dreams, parker." he didn't move, though. leaving you to peel the spandex from his body. "stay there," you spoke gently, moving to go get him clothes. when you returned, his eyes were open. he had retreated from his previous spot on the toilet to now where he was standing in front of the mirror.

you could see the look of defeat in his eyes. the way they looked at the scars that were spread across his torso. your heart broke every time you saw him like this. "baby? wanna get some clothes on?"

the boy turned his head, almost as if you scared him. he nodded, taking the sweatpants you got him. seeing the way he looked at himself in the mirror, you wished you would've gotten him a shirt too. "i’ll go get you a tank top too, okay?"

he shook his head rather quickly, "it's okay." short, flat.

"okay. wanna come to bed? or do you wanna eat something first?"

"bed, please."

you smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him to your already made bed. lifting the covers so he could slide into them, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. you ran your hand through his hair before retreating to your side of the bed and covering yourself up. peter immediately pulled your head into his chest.

even when he was hurting, he still wanted to hold you. when you tried to return the favor, he would shake his head and kiss your hairline.

"i love you, spidey."

"i love you more."

[raven-fucks-around-and-writes]

Super love ig

prompt: "i understand that you want to be supportive and i appreciate that, but is covering the house in pride flag bunting really the way to go?" (X)

word count: 474

A/N: this is rly short and unedited and i literally never write fluff but i was supposed to finish this in june but i never did so. yea 😭

Peter Parker was just so adorable. 

You had brought him to a coffee shop in hopes that the calming environment would somehow make the news go over easier for both of you. His bright smile never faltered once the entire time, he was always happy to be out with you.  

"So, what's up, love?"

"So.. Peter, you know I love you, right?"

 he could tell you were nervous by the way you clasped your hands around your coffee cup, and how your eyes darted around the cafe

"Peter.. I.."

You swallowed heavily and your knees felt like jelly, (even though you were sitting down)

"I think I may be.. trans? I know this is sudden, but I don't really feel female anymore, i know I look like one and maybe act like one, but i just feel masculine"

Silence.

Then his usual smile spread over his face and he reassured you that he loved you, and you knew it would all be okay

———

A couple weeks went by, and everything was perfect. You even went by a new name and pronouns, and of course Peter Parker was always supportive. He even began introducing you as his boyfriend.

but then peter began acting weird.. He seemed like he was keeping you out of the house more often, and he started to make sure he learned what time you were going to be home

It made you begin to wonder if he was changing his mind.. if he was suddenly uncomfortable with you being trans and the thought of that made your heart crumble 

one day, you pulled up to your house from work and saw him standing in your driveway, looking nervous.

"Peter?" you rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car, wanting answers you knew you deserved

Peter softly smiled at you, before being cut off by your frown

"If you're suddenly unhappy, you can just tell me. Peter, I made it specifically clear that I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me after-"

"It's not that at all."

"Then what is it? You've been weird for weeks. I miss you"

"Just come inside and see - It'll make sense"

You rolled your eyes as you followed him into your house and thought "I hope this is worth it"

Inside, the entire house was decorated in various pride flags, mostly the trans one

"Oh my fucking god, Pete, what did you do?"

He smiled his usual dorky smile "I wanted to show you how much I love you! Besides, it wasn't super expensive. Consider it a token of my love, hon"

You look around again, your house a full on blue, pink, white, and rainbow mess.

"I understand that you want to be supportive and i appreciate that, but was covering the house in pride flag bunting really the way to go?" 

reblogs are better than likes, support writers

[myadmiringmind]

Tree Lighting | TASM!Peter Parker

TASM!Peter Parker Masterlist

TASM Face Claims

Summary: You convince your boyfriend, who also happens to be Spider-Man, to give in to the public’s wishes and light the big Christmas Tree in Central Park.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Characters: TASM!Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn, Miles Morales, and Felicia Hardy

Warnings: Heights, cold weather

Notes:

Established Relationship

|PICTURES ARE NOT MINE|

—————————————————————

“You want me to do what?” Peter laughed

“I’m serious!” You said

“I’m sure you are, honey.” Peter grinned at you

“So..will you?” You asked, hopeful

Peter ran a hand through his brown hair with a sigh, “I just told a reporter last night that I wasn’t going to do it.”

“So, say that you changed your mind!” You offered

Peter looked at you with an amused smile, “You really want me to do this tree lighting that bad, huh?”

You nodded bashfully, “I just..think it would add something nice to the season. For everyone!” You added

Peter grinned and pulled you in so that he could put a hard kiss on your cheek. Pulling back he rested his forehead on yours.

“You’re adorable, Y’know that.” Peter said

“You tell me all the time.” You said, quietly

“Mm, as I should.” He pulled you into a kiss

When he retracted from you, your lips followed his and he laughed.

“I gotta get home before Aunt May comes to check on me.” He nodded towards your bedroom window.

“Goodbye kiss?” You asked

Peter answered you with what you desired.

————————————

“Did you ask Gwen to pester me about the tree lighting too?” Peter asked, walking into your apartment kitchen with his phone out.

“No.” You answered, honestly, leaning against the counter.

“Well,” Peter began wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you close to his chest, “now Gwen is texting me about the tree lighting too.”

You laid your head on his chest and giggled.

“First, my girlfriend, and now my best friend. When will it stop?” Peter complained jokingly

“After we get Harry and Felicia in on it too.” You answered, giggling

Peter pinched your side teasingly.

“Yes, we’ll, I’ll definitely be outnumbered by then.” Peter chuckled

“You already are.” You laughed, “The entirety of New York wants you to do this.”

Peter hummed in agreement, “True.” He mumbled

You only grinned.

“What do you get out of this exactly?” Your boyfriend asked

“I get to see you struggle with the lights.” You giggled

Peter snorted, “I’m Spider-man! I fight villains on a daily basis, I'm not gonna struggle with Christmas lights.”

“Then prove it.”

“I guess I am cornered.” Peter considered.

Out of nowhere he picked you up causing you to let out a yelp of surprise.

“Well,” Peter laughed, “first things first, we have to find you the perfect spot to watch me expertly,” he emphasized, “light that tree.”

———————————

True to his word, Peter found you the best spot.

You were currently rewatching the video that the news got of Peter-Spider-man- telling a reporter that he changed his mind about lighting the tree.

“Are you warm enough?” Peter asked while wrapping a scarf around your neck.

“Yep.” You confirmed

A knock on the door caught your attention.

“Are we expecting company?” Peter asked, zipping up his jacket to hide the spidey suit.

“Actually, we were.” You said, walking over to the door.

Gwen’s grinning face met the two of you on the other side. Followed by Felicia, Harry and Miles.

A chorus of greetings made their way into their apartment.

“Are all of you planning on watching me light this tree?” Peter asked

“I think most of America is watching you light this tree, Pete.” Harry said, very unbothered.

“I already told them where we’re planning to watch.” You added

“I’ve got a limo waiting downstairs.” Harry winked

“A real limo too!” Miles said excitedly

“We’re going by limo?” Peter asked

“No, Harry’s going by limo. I’ll get there on my own and so should you, Peter.” Felicia said

“Peters taking me.” You commented

“I could swing over as well.” Miles shrugged

“Well, I can’t swing so I’m taking the limo.” Gwen said

“We’ll meet you there.” Harry said, as he and Gwen walked out the door.

———————————————

“You ready, Pete?” Miles asked as he got comfortable on the roof.

“Course.” The brunette responded.

“Good luck, Peter.” Felicia called

“Don’t fall on the stage.” Gwen teased

“And don’t make us look bad.” Harry added

Your boyfriend scoffed and shook his head.

He looked towards you with a teasing expectant look. You hopped up from your spot and wrapped your arms around his tight.

He squeezed you tighter and placed a bunch of kisses on your cheek and neck, causing you to giggle.

“Get a room you two!” Harry yelled

Peter sends him a glare with no real anger in it.

“Wish me luck.” Peter says so only you could hear you.

“Good luck.” You say with one more kiss.

“See ya guys!” Peter called the rest of your friends.

——————————————

Apparently, Harry brought his laptop with him so all of you could see Peter better.

You giggled as you watched Peter talk to the celebrity announcer.

You all laughed even more as Peter did fumble with the lights after a worker handed them to him and asked him to wrap them around the tree.

“3……”

“2……”

“1……”

“Happy Holidays!”

The crowd shouted as Peter pressed the button to light the tree.

——————————————

“How’d I do?” Peter asked excitedly as he got back to you.

“Amazing! It was great!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him.

“Did you like it?” Peter asked you

“Loved it!” You pressed a bunch of kisses to his cheeks.

“I’m glad.” He pressed a hard kiss to your mouth.

“Alright, Felicia brought a million plates of hot food to my place-“

“Yes! I forgot about that.” Felicia interrupted

“Some warm food sounds good to me.” Mile’s commented

“Food?” Peter asked

“Food.” You agreed

[mrshipsmcgee]

*****a drunk blurb 4 u*****

You and your best friend, Peter had decided to attend Phi Alpha Sigma’s Spring Mixer out of boredom. The two of you were right on theme for the ‘Iconic Couples’ party, dressing up as Westley and Princess Buttercup from The Princess Bride. Peter was in a black thrasher shirt, black skinny jeans with his head covered and wrapped with a black mask, sporting a ridiculous, last minute, black eye liner mustache you had drawn above his upper lip, and you were wearing a floor length, red long-sleeved dress.

“We clean up nice,” Peter said as the two of you stood against the wall of the fraternity’s crowded living room, both holding red solo cups filled with Jungle Juice.

“Wait, what?!” You yell, trying to speak over the thumping music, leaning towards Peter with your hand cupped beside your mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the music!”

“I said that we clean up nice!” He yells, leaning closer to you - the smell of alcohol wafting in your face.

“God, Pete! How much have you drank?” You yell, stepping closer to him, stepping on his toe in the process and stumbling a bit. Peter’s wide hand gently spreads across the small of your back as he sloppily steps towards you, trying to balance himself and you in his embrace.

He lets out a small laugh, awkwardly pulling his hand from your back just as his honey eyes meet yours, pausing for a moment as he smiles down at you.

“What?” You smirk, squinting your eyes at him before you take a sip from your solo cup.

He licks his lips, eye to eye with you as a soft blush grows on his cheeks - “You look beautiful, Princess.”

“Did you just say that I look beautiful?” You speak into his ear, your bottom lip accidentally brushing against his flesh - immediately sending tingles down your spine just as Peter turns his face towards you, noses brushing together as he yells, “What?!”

You both pause, wide-eyed staring at one another, feeling like the only two people left in the world though the party rages around you.

Peter blinks, swallowing hard before his shaking hand raises, gently hooking his finger below your jaw and tilting your ear towards his mouth.. his lips brush against your skin as he says, “I think that you’re beautiful.”

“Peter, you’re drunk,” you laugh, though your stomach was actively tying into knots.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just in love with you,” he says, clearing his throat as his finger tips delicately trace your hand, softly lacing his fingertips in between yours.

Your eyes meet again. He raises his brows, nodding towards you as he repeats, “I’m in love with you.”

[spiderfunkz]

thinking about peter parker whos girlfriend is a total book nerd . . . where he'd always take you on dates to the bookstore and insists on buying you a new book. where he'd follow you around the store like a lost puppy while you run around trying to find the book you want.

peter parker who'd always be there to comfort you when your favorite character meets their end, where he would say, "maybe they'll get resurrected in the next book, who knows?" while awkwardly smiling, which usually puts you in the mood again to smile and laugh at his attempt to comfort you. "the series is done peter, that was the last book." you sniff, "hey maybe they'll do a cameo in the prequel!"

peter parker who'd listen to your rambles about your most recent read and do research afterwards because he couldn't process all the lore properly and got confused halfway as you were talking. but even when he is confused, he still listens and nods anyways.

peter parker who waited for it to rain at night so he could recreate the 'kissing & dancing in the rain' scene from one of your favorite books because you wouldn't stop talking about it, and he personally thinks you deserve to experience that at least once. you both ended up getting a cold

peter parker who lays beside you and reads comics while you're reading your books. where he'd slowly inch closer and closer to you and rest his head on your shoulder, placing his comic book down and just slowly fall asleep on your shoulder as you whisper the lines from your book.

peter parker who'd secretly read along from behind and dramatically gasps when a character does something remotely weird. where at the end you two would just start gossiping about how that character would do such things.

[withahappyrefrain]

For your 3k celebration: pregnancy reveal with dilf peter 👀

Here have some girl dad DILF Peter fluff

You felt a small hand tug on your dress. You looked away from the dishes you were washing, to find your daughter looking up at you.

"What's up Sophie?" You asked. Her brown eyes were wide, a smile on her face.

Sophie pointed to the door, "Daddy!"

You grinned, "Is Daddy about to come home?"

Your toddler nodded her head. Peter claimed it was the inherited "Spidey sense" that alerted her when he was about to walk in the door.

"You want to greet Daddy? Show him your new shirt?" Sophie nodded her head.

A smile spread across your face as you watched Sophie run to the door. Her little feet were rocking back and forth as her body wiggled in excitement.

The door opened, your husband stepping in. No matter what kind of the day it had been, Peter's eyes always lit up when he saw Sophie. The smile that adorned his face upon laying eyes on her made your heart flutter, no matter how many times you saw it.

"Hey there mamaleh!" Peter quickly put his bag on the coat hook, crouching down so he was closer to eye level with Sophie (as close as one can be with a toddler).

"Daddy!" Sophie shrieked, running up to Peter. She was quickly engulfed by Peter's arms.

You leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. Despite being an everyday occurrence, the scene never failed to make you smile.

As Peter kissed the top of Sophie's head, his eyes met yours.

"Daddy! Look!" Sophie tugged on the collar of Peter's shirt. He looked down to find Sophie pointing to her shirt.

"Oh that's new," Peter's voice trailed off as he began to read Sophie's shirt. His eyes widened and you could see them scan the text on the shirt again. And again.

"Bug?" Your eyes perked up at your nickname, a sly smile slowly creeping across your face.

"Yes Peter?"

"Why does Sophie shirt say 'promoted to big sister'?" Peter took a step towards you, still holding Sophie in his hands.

You giggled, leaning over so you were at eye level with your daughter, "Wanna tell Daddy?"

Sophie pointed to your stomach, "Mamma has a baby!"

"What?" Peter's voice was breathless. You didn't think his eyes could get any wider. The wheels were turning in his brain, connecting the dots. You could see in his eyes realization sweeping through him.

"Really?" He asked, looking at your stomach and then back to you.

You nodded your head, "I'm eight weeks. Doctor confirmed it today."

A joyful yelp escaped Peter's lips as wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into a kiss.

You couldn't help but laugh into the kiss. Sophie giggled at the sight.

"I love you," Peter whispered against your lips.

"I love you too," You responded back, breaking away to press a kiss against your daughter's forehead, "And I love you!"

"You're gonna be a big sister Sophie girl!" Peter exclaimed, bouncing Sophie against his hip.

Sophie giggled, "I know Daddy!"

"You know?!" Peter asked, feigning shock to elicit another giggle from her, "Well Daddy didn't know!"

"Had to wait until the shirt arrived," You confessed. Keeping this a secret had been hard. You hadn't told Sophie until today when the shirt arrived. After all, toddlers didn't really understand the meaning of secrets.

Peter put Sophie down, engulfing you in a proper hug this time.

"You happy?" You asked before pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"Overjoyed. We're about to have another little spider!"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "Please stop calling our children that." Peter flashed that boyish grin, the one that made you fall head over heels in love with him all those years ago.

"Sophie doesn't mind, do ya Soph?" Sophie laughed as she clung to Peter's leg.

"Nope!"

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

meeting roomate! peter parker for the first time and u walk in to see this scrawny, extremely tall white boy with the messiest hair u have ever seen. he has run his fingers though it sooo many times cause he was very nervous to meet u. his glasses are slightly crooked, his watch is so vintage its nearly non usable, and hes wearing the most bisexual lil outfit known to man with his untied converse, baggy rolled jeans and lil white button up with a dark red sweater vest. yes- he has rolled the sleeves up to show off his arm veins. he blushes the second he sees you and scratches the back of his neck bc hes a nerd and all the boxes have “essentials” written on them but then his skateboard and cassette player is poking out. he has a cold, nearly black coffee on the table nearby, one sugar only. he reaches out his hand for you to shake like a literal dork and instead you just walk up and squeeze this poor man like ur life depends on it bc youre going to be living with him for god knows how long. he just pets ur head bc he needed the hug, but didnt know if you liked hugs or handshakes or even fist bumps

“is this weird that im hugging you”

“no. do u wanna make it weird”

“no, not really”

“okay so we wont make it weird. you smell really good by the way” *pets ur head*

so thats my late night thought. gnnn ily all<3

[katyswrites]

Nightmares

summary: At night, Peter has nightmares about Gwen’s death - they’ve been happening more often. The reader is there to comfort him, and some truths come to light.

pairing: tasm!peter parker / reader

genre: romance, hurt/comfort, fluff

wordcount: 2.6k

content warnings: angst, nightmares, canon typical violence, descriptions of death, reader is a bit insecure, allusions to sex (very mild), some fluff, mental health/grief struggles

It always starts the same. You were sleeping, peacefully. You rarely dreamed these days, especially on nights that Peter was there. That is, until, you’re pulled from your slumber. It starts as whispers, barely being breathed into the night. Soon though, it grows, until he’s loud enough to wake you with a start. Peter is thrashing beside you, shaking you into reality. He’s crying out, and it’s always the same.

“Gwen, no, Gwen no PLEASE-”

You know what to do by now. You never grab him, or try to shake him awake, at least not right away - you’ve learned the hard way that his strength could knock you from the bed, or even across the room. Instead, you opt to talk, coaxing him out of his nightmare. 

“Peter, hey - Peter - it’s not real. Peter, you’re dreaming,”

His hands are fisted in the sheets right in front of his face, as he screams into the pillow.

“I’m so sorry - please, I can’t do this without you-”

You raise your voice, attempting to overcome him. “Peter - PETER!”

He wakes with a jolt, snapping into consciousness. He’s wild-eyed, tears staining his cheeks as he tries to adjust to his surroundings. After a moment, he visibly relaxes, though he’s still heaving and shaking. He locks eyes with you, face still half-buried in his pillow.

“Oh God, it happened again, I’m so sorry-”

“Shhh,” you quiet him, reaching out to stroke his hair. “It’s okay -”

He shakes his head. “It just, it felt so real, it’s like it was happening all over again -”

“I know, I know -” you soothe, continuing to run your hands through his hair. “You’re here, you’re with me, it’s okay-”

He shakes his head again, shifting closer to you. You move with him, knowing what he wants. He settles his head on your sternum, melding into your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, feeling your breathing, needing to cling to the fact that you’re alive and well.

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

You knew about Gwen. It had taken a while for Peter to finally open up and tell you about her. You had seen her photos around his room - most were hidden away now, but it was impossible to miss her lingering presence in Peter’s life. Early in your relationship, you had asked him about them. You saw the pictures of the beautiful blonde girl pinned above his desk, and you knew instantly that he had taken them. You had assumed she was a family member, or an old friend - at least, you had hoped, because the last thing you needed was a guy who was hung up on his ex to the point that he kept photos of her hanging up.

You had asked innocently, after staying over a few times when you started seeing each other. His reaction was unlike anything you had expected - he drifted off, misty-eyed, looking past you. His voice was shaky, breaking. You hadn’t known him too well, not at that point, and you had never seen him like this before.

“That’s, uh - sorry, um - that’s G- Gwen. She was, um -”

You had put a hand on his arm then, steadying him. “Hey, hey - it’s okay. You don’t need to talk about it - I didn’t think -”

His mouth had formed a tight line, and he nodded curtly, placing his hand on top of yours and giving it a squeeze. You had decided to drop the topic then and there, knowing you weren’t there yet - you still had so much to learn about Peter, and so many wonderful and terrible days ahead with him that had yet to be experienced.

Still, he brought it up sooner than you thought - later that night, in fact. You were staying over, curled up on his chest in bed as he had an arm wrapped around you, rubbing his thumb up and down your upper arm. Something mindless was playing on the bedroom TV, the plot long abandoned. You were drifting off to sleep when he decided to break the comfortable silence.

“Her name was Gwen Stacy,” he said, only a hair above a whisper. 

Your eyes blinked open, brow furrowing. It took you a moment to even realize what he was talking about, only to realize he was referring to the failed conversation from hours earlier.

There was a beat of silence. All you could think to say was, “Oh?”

You felt him nod, and take a deep breath. “She was my girlfriend, back in high school. She was my first love. She really was the one for me, you know.”

Your heart sank. There it was. You knew it, Peter had seemed just a bit too perfect - no major red flags. So of course he was hung up on his ex, his beautiful, photogenic ex, the one -

“I was going to follow her, wherever she went. She was going to move to England, to go to Oxford - she really was brilliant.”

Ah, you thought. She didn’t want to do long--distance, and he’s still butthurt about it-

“She died,” he said, bluntly, after a long pause. The words tumbled out, as if he needed to push them out, or they wouldn’t have been said at all.

You had whipped your head up, finally looking at him. But he was looking forward unmoving. That’s when everything started making sense - his carefully measured words, his racing heartbeat, his tightening grip on you. 

He took another deep, controlled breath, before continuing, “There was, um - there was an accident. I - I saw it happen. I tried to stop it, and I couldn’t - and -”

He had started losing his composure then, his breathing becoming labored, his voice wobbling as the words failed to come.

You shifted up onto your elbow, placing a hand on his cheek. 

“Hey, hey - Peter, look at me.”

He turned, finally making eye contact with you. You ran your thumb along his cheek, wiping away the tear that had rolled down it. It had occurred to you that you’d never seen him cry before.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” you said. “When I asked earlier, I didn’t think - I just didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, leaning into your palm. “No, don’t you dare apologize - I don’t really talk about her much. This might be the first time I’ve talked about her since it all happened, really.”

You nodded. “Yeah well, I understand why. But uh - thank you for telling me. I know that must’ve been hard to do.”

He nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut. “I just didn’t want you to think - I really like you, okay? I haven’t been in any kind of relationship since then, not for years. I mean, I’ve had, um, friends, if you know what I mean, but - I didn’t want to let myself get close to anyone again… then you came along.”

Your heart quickened at his words, and you cursed yourself inwardly. How could you be thinking about how much Peter liked you, like a schoolgirl with a crush, when he was telling you about his dead girlfriend?

“Look, Peter - I really like you too. I know we haven’t put labels on anything, or expectations, or whatever, but if you’re still not ready for this… I understand.”

He began to shake his head then, almost manically. 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! I just - you deserve to know about her. And, I just hope you know - it’s going to take time, for me to go there again. But, I don’t want you to go, if you’ll still have me.”

You didn’t know what else to say, then. For the first time, you had felt like you were really seeing Peter, the beautiful boy who took your breath away, who you had so much more to learn about. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him tenderly, tasting the salt from his drying tears. 

“Of course I’ll still have you, Peter Parker,” you had whispered in the dark.

In the coming months, so much changed. You learned why Peter was actually always M.I.A., with bruises and cuts littering his face at god-awful hours. When you found out, you had thought about breaking it off with him - you hated being deceived, especially for so long. But you also understood why - how, exactly, does someone explain that they’re Spider-Man? With his biggest secret laid out between you, things became easier. At least, things made more sense - no more lies, no more wondering why he would disappear. Despite the fact that he was the superhero, you felt the intense urge to protect this boy, to be his comfort when he came home, battered and bloody. It was one night, when you were cleaning a particularly bad wound on his chest, scolding him for not being more careful, that he told you he loved you for the first time. You knew the weight that carried. Although you never broached the Gwen subject, you knew what that meant for him.

You saw a change in Peter, too. Since you had first met him, he began to smile more, to laugh more, to walk with less of a sagging weight in his shoulders. You knew, deep in your soul, that he was healing - but, you also knew that no healing process was easy. Still, the nightmares were a relatively recent development.

Now, you continue to card your fingers through his hair, waiting for his breathing to slow, for his heartbeat to regulate itself. That same old urge to protect washes over you again, the way it often did on nights like these. You never asked about the dreams, about Gwen, or anything they entailed. Sometimes, he offered up information. One time, about a month ago, he finally told you exactly what had happened to her. It was then that you understood why he was so hesitant to let anyone close to him again. 

“I’m here,” you keep whispering. “You’re okay.”

Aside from your comforting mantra, and the sound of both of your breathing, it was silent in the room. It’s Peter who finally says something.

“They’re happening more often,” he states, nuzzling into your chest more. 

“I know,” you reply. 

You had realized this a while ago, but didn’t question it, at least, not aloud. If you were being perfectly honest, your own insecurities had started creeping in. Was Peter not happy with your relationship anymore? Did he wish you were Gwen? Or, did he resent you, for trying to replace her? You did your best to push these thoughts away, but it was getting more and more difficult. Then again, how do you blame your boyfriend for being traumatized after going through something like that?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by Peter, who continues, “I think I know why. I mean - it’s hard to know for sure, but -”

He shifts now, removing himself from your chest and sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard. You sit up with him, listening intently.

“Look - Gwen is always going to be a part of my life. There’s a part of me that’s always going to love her, to grieve her, to… to mourn what could’ve been. I know that may not be what you want to hear from me, but I can’t lie about that.”

You nod stiffly, sensing where this might be going. You begin to fill with dread - your worst fear is coming true, and you’re losing Peter.

“I try not to dwell on it, to keep pushing forward, because I know that’s what she would’ve wanted. And, I love you - God, I love you,” he said, his voice catching.

“When I first lost Gwen, I had these dreams a lot. And, after I met you, they got better. There was a while there that they were gone completely.” He’s wringing his hands now, looking down at them, avoiding your gaze.

“But lately - I mean, they’re almost the same as before. It’s a memory, mostly. I’m in that clock tower, she’s falling, I try to shoot a web, reaching for her… I hold her, I - well, you know, I guess.”

You nod, thinking about the agony in his voice as he cries out in his sleep.

“But,” he adds, “Lately, it’s like - some of the time, it’s Gwen falling, but sometimes… it’s you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh, oh. Peter lets it sit there a moment, taking in a deep breath.

“I can’t explain it, because dreams are weird, but like, it’s Gwen and you, if that makes sense? I think, you’re so important to me, and I love you so much, and I’m just so scared of it happening again -”

He stifles a sob then, his words becoming rushed and jumbled. You feel tears welling behind your eyes now. Peter isn’t breaking up with you; he isn’t unhappy with you; it’s the complete opposite.

“Oh, Peter -” you say, moving closer to him. “Look at me,” you say, coaxing him to meet your gaze. There, you see it - that same vulnerability, and fear, from the night many months ago that he first told you about Gwen, in this very room. 

“I’m okay, I’m right here. You’re not going to lose me. No, don’t,” you say, cutting him off before he can interrupt. “Look, I know the risks. You told me that you were Spider-Man, you told me about what happened to Gwen, and I stayed. Because I love you, Peter. Life is unpredictable. Yes, there’s a chance some enemy of yours could try to hurt me to get to you. But, you know what? I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, or get cancer, or choke on my dinner, or die a million other ways. Does that mean we shouldn’t be together?”

He stays silent, brow furrowing. You know he’s listening, but you also know how stubborn Peter can be.

“Peter - every night, you put on a mask, and swing through that city, defending it from god-knows-what. And every night, I sit here and wonder if I’ll ever see you again. Do you think that doesn’t scare me to death?”

Something unreadable passes his face then - is it guilt? Hurt? Fear? Or, perhaps, understanding?

You press on, saying “Peter… you deserve a shot at happiness. You deserve a life.”

You let the words sit there, feeling that there’s not anything else to be said. Before you know what’s happening, his arms are around you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his face buried in your shoulder. You hug him back, your hand running soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

“I love you, so much,” he whispers, pressing gentle kisses into your hair. Your finally let go, allowing the tears to fall freely.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. Peter pulls back, looking into your eyes. He’s taking you in, fully, and so sincerely. There he is, the boy you fell in love with, who drives you crazy, and who you wouldn’t have any other way. His hand comes up to rest on your cheek, cradling your face. He leans in, kissing you ever so gently, as if you might break. You kiss back fiercely, as if to say I love every part of you, Peter. He kisses your forehead then, pulling you into his arms again, your head over his heart now.

Later, as you feel yourself and Peter begin to finally drift back to sleep, you whisper, “We’re going to be okay.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “We are.”

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

Hi all! If you enjoyed this one-shot, comments/feedback are always appreciated!

[periprose]

Florence - Chapter Seven

It's Harry and MJ's wedding day, and you feel a million different emotions at once. Happiness, fear, an urge to never part from Peter's side. Finally, you come to a resolution about you and Peter's burgeoning relationship, ecstatically so.

Wedding stuff, ceremonies and reception, lots of emotions, cheesy romantic things (kissing, overly dramatic proposal stuff), smut (riding + lots of tension coming to a head (pls skip over this segment if you're uncomfortable)), I can't believe this took so long to write

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Peter feels elated. On top of the world, even.

Yeah, it was just a kiss– hardly the most invigorating, erotic thing he could’ve done– but, as cheesy as Peter feels when he thinks this, it was a kiss with you.

“Ugh.” He smacks himself in the face, cringing at how much he loves these intense feelings. He’s lying in his bed– the villa bedroom that was selected for him was perfect, down to the mattress that keeps Peter’s back pain at bay– but he can’t help but grin bashfully under his hands.

You had had the same sort of look yesterday. After Peter had finished kissing you, MJ had come and stolen you away for more bridesmaid duties– speeches, readings at the church, etc. – and despite your shy small smile, your hand clinging onto his as MJ dragged you away with a very questioning, sly look, he had to let you go. Unfortunately so.

Peter knows he loves you. He spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about how to properly ask you to be his girlfriend, his partner, his significant other. To be the one that he knew you were back when the two of you were just kids. 

He was just too stupid to see it.

Hell, even Logan told him that it was obvious. After years and years, he apparently always wondered when one of you would make the first move and get it over with. This was coming from the guy who couldn’t bear to ask out Ms. Grey and ended up ending it over nothing, too.

Peter clambers out of bed, rubbing his face, getting ready to brush his teeth, knowing that because he’s known you for so long– his method of asking you to make things official would come naturally.

/

You’re watching the sun rise over the gorgeous trees and groves of the villa, leaking through the windows of the house. Your room has a teeny balcony– you never noticed it before since a table obscured the door, and it’s a lovely space to spend time thinking before the wedding.  

Outside, a cool breeze makes your hair loose, blowing away strands lightly, and you feel at peace. You feel glad to be here.  

Siena is quite beautiful… but you’re very excited to actually go back to Florence today. It’s the best part of Italy to you, and you share too many memories with Peter to not want to be there with him today. 

Especially after he kissed you. You find yourself blushing, but that’s okay. It’s too special for you to know how to deal with– you’re finding that you’re easily flustered, going over countless memories of sunny beaches and ice cream and studying algebra and Italian architecture, cobblestone streets and sun dresses and tanned skin that always stayed with you long after you would come home to the cold autumn airs of New York.

But the best part was that Peter would always be with you throughout it all. Not just in Florence, but in high school, at home, being neighbours and bothering each other all time. You never had to have a break from him– he was like your own personal summer vacation.

You know you have had your moments, pulling away, feeling stupid and neglected– the sorrow you feel is fairly terrible– but the gratitude, the satisfaction you have from having Peter next to you now is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. 

You wonder if Peter feels the same, that he’s feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions all at once– love, affection, but also fondness, familiarity, relief– you hope so. You want to talk to him again.

You didn’t sleep very well last night, and you know that’s bad for the wedding– but you’re not tired at all. No, no. 

For the first time in your life, you feel really awake.

“Howlett?” Peter’s voice calls, and you turn– you stumble for a moment.

“Hey, watch it!” Peter comes through your grabs your forearm, steadying you. You weren’t in any risk of falling over the railing of the balcony, but Peter’s got that strange sense, and his brown eyes peer into yours, checking to see if you’re okay.

Once he feels that you are, his gaze softens and he settles into a smile. His brows furrow as he grins at you.

He’s still wearing PJs, as are you– clearly you weren’t the only one struggling to stay away.

“I– I’m okay.” You hold his hand, trying not to beam. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.”

“Couldn’t exactly let my girlfriend fall off the balcony, could I?” Peter ruffles your hair, and you feel an alarming amount of excitement and earnestness at his words. “Not after I finally got one.”

“Hey.” You point your finger at Peter’s chest, and he raises his hands in an oh-ho, let’s see what you have to say sort of way, and you can’t help but smirk a little even if you’re mock glaring at him. “You’re admitting that it could’ve been any girl? And you would’ve been happy?”

“Oh, Howlett.” Peter reaches over and tries his best not to snicker– he fails– as he starts this overly romantic, purposefully terrible soliloquy to you. “It could only be you. I’d walk across a thousand burning coals for you. I’d reach up into the sky and take the moon and give it to you. I’d rake my balls through shredded glass just for the chance to kiss your sweet, chapped lips.”

You cackle at that, and Peter giggles while holding you close, holding your face.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You laugh, and you shake your head at him. “What’s with the use of girlfriend, anyways? When did you ask me to be your girlfriend?”

“Was it not obvious yesterday?” Peter purses his lips. “Should I kiss you again, and make it more clear?”

Peter leans in but you stop him with your hand, and he kisses your hand anyways. 

Licks it, too. 

“Yuck.” You shake your hand away. “You can’t just claim me like a primitive man-ape, Peter. You gotta make it official, properly. I’ve waited too long for this moment for you to go and just make it so.”

“Oh, really?” Peter looks bemused. “You spent a great many algebra study sessions fantasizing about me, huh?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, and Peter pushes down the urge to kiss your endearingly annoyed expression. 

“Okay. Deal.” Peter takes you by the hand, and leads you inside. “Do you think we have time for a morning coffee?”

/

It’s a very hectic time to go and sneak away like this.

MJ is currently doing an intense skincare regimen– she enjoys it a lot typically, but in this case it’s to give her a wedding glow– numerous products are slathered on as she lays on her bed. Face, arms, legs covered.

She gives you the okay to go, as long as you’re back in five minutes to help her get dressed, and Peter promises it will take two.

Peter makes his coffee– it’s easy, it’s just black with no sugar or cream– but for you he adds in a lot of sweetness and sugar and cream and even if you don’t usually take your coffee that sweet, you appreciate it anyways. 

“You used to drink it like this in high school.” Peter admits sheepishly, and you know he’s right– it’s cute how he remembers that.

/

MJ is so glad you’re back, shooing Peter away to the groom’s side of the house. As two makeup artists work on her hair, her face, her skin, working in even more products and massaging her muscles (MJ is so particular about reducing her frown wrinkles) she feels relaxed, luxurious, amazing… if not for the fact that she’s having wedding panic.

“Seriously, what if Harry gets cold feet again?” MJ blinks her deep green-blue eyes, tears hanging onto her pale, mascara-less eyelashes. “I knew we should’ve waited a few years. He’s been so worried about his father, about everything with Oscorp… God, I’m so fucking stupid!”

“MJ– No.” You shake your head. “You’re just freaking out. Deep breaths, Mary Jane.”

She inhales somewhat dramatically, but shuts her eyes, and you watch as MJ’s flushed, red skin calms into her fair, even skintone. 

“Harry wouldn’t have proposed if he didn’t want to do this now.” You remind her carefully. 

“And he wouldn’t have invited his dad if things were that terrible, right?” MJ nods, and she watches as you nod, too. “Okay. Hold my hand, Lettie. It’s scarier than I realized.”

“Getting married?” You sit next to her, squeezing her palm in a warm grasp, and try to avoid the makeup artist currently applying a peachy blush to MJ’s cheeks.

“Yeah. Not to be crazy, but… it’s literally marriage. It’s Mary Jane Osborn from here on out. Mrs. MJ, wife to Harry Osborn.” MJ inhales. “I know I want to do it, but I just… I have so many nerves!”

“Pretend it’s one of your modelling shoots?” The hair stylist arranging MJ’s red hair into a loose bun chimes in, as she works in lilies through the strands.

“No… that won’t do. Thanks though, Clara.” MJ sighs. “It’s not like that. It’s just… it’s been so long since I’ve had to really… shed the image.”

“Bare your soul?” You respond, and MJ nods. “I get it. You need to be candid about your feelings.”

“Yeah, it can’t be all image work. And I just worry that I’m going to come across as a influencer woman being shallow and vain rather than, well, the real me, little MJ Watson from Queens.” MJ’s voice turns small. “I almost wish I wasn’t famous at all.”

“Too late for that, cupcake.” The hairstylist comments again, and MJ snorts despite herself. “Listen. If Osborn knows you’re being real, then that’s good enough. Outsiders are always going to judge.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” You agree, and MJ swallows, before sighing with relief.

“Okay. Okay. I’m okay.” MJ fixes her glance on you. “Don’t leave me though.”

/

MJ looks perfect– even more so, in your personal taste, than she ever has during her glammed up, avant garde beauty shoots– she looks just like herself. Enhanced, a little, with her freckles still shining through dewy, glowy makeup, topped off with shimmery, sheer gold-glitter eyeshadow, and poppy red lipstick, blotted so not to be too much. She looks like your best friend, but also like… the best possible version of herself. You tell her as much.

She beams. “Thanks, Lettie. Do I look like a bride?”

“Of course!” You shake your head at her. “We just need to get you into your dress…”

MJ isn’t one to care about being nude anymore, after being desensitised to designers stripping and dressing her, and she undoes her robe with a simple pull of the strap, exposing her bare breasts and panties– you’re reminded just how much taller she is than you when she stands up straight, all legs and taut stomach, sharp collarbones and angular shoulders, muscles and bone contorting into a physique that just screams model. It’s like she was made to wear anything in an editorial context.   

“This is how I feel. Standing in that church, telling everyone I love Harry…” MJ crosses her arms, causing her tits to jut out more, and you snort, totally indifferent to her naked body. You’ve seen it a million times. “I’m going to be emotionally and spiritually naked.”

“And that’s harder than having your tits out?” You joke, but MJ points at you, seriously agreeing. “Alright, arms up.”

The dress is quite beautiful. An off-white, almost blue in tone mermaid dress, custom made by Dior, it fits MJ like a glove, snatching in at her bust, waist, and her hips, but then flaring out in an elegant a-line skirt, all silk and lace detailing. There’s quite a bit of rhinestone work from her sweetheart neckline, down to her hips, and the effect– as you pull it up on her, tightening the corset straps as she reaches around to make sure it’s all fitting– it’s like a halo glow.

Yes, as you carefully adorn MJ’s veil over her head, you feel in your heart– she’s an angel. No doubt about it.

“You look beautiful.” You grin at her, and to your surprise, MJ’s eyes water a little, and she hugs you tightly. 

“I’m so glad you came here.” MJ murmurs. “I never would’ve wanted to get married without you by my side.”

“Same. I mean, if I get married–”

“Stop that. You’re going to get married.” MJ laughs, cackles, really. “You and Peter– you guys are so meant to be. I’ve never been more glad that you two hit it off this week.”

“Even though we could be stealing the spotlight?” You joke.

“Especially if it means you’re stealing the spotlight.” MJ squeezes your arms. “You really deserve it, Lettie.”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat. Never have you ever assumed that you deserve any of the good things life throws your way– you always assume that it’s just due to luck. A cushy coding job? Luck. Being friends with Harry, who’s willing to give you a much higher salary, and MJ, who gives you the best fashion advice? Luck. Peter somehow being interested in you? Luck. What’s really special about you?

“I know that look.” MJ shakes her head. “You’re a catch, babe. Now go get dressed and blow that man’s socks off.”

“I… thought you were going to finish that sentence differently.” You admit, glad that MJ stopped your spiral into depressive thoughts. “Isn’t it ‘knock your socks off?’”

MJ shoos you out, laughing.

/

After very quickly putting on your makeup, It’s not hard to dress yourself. The dress, pretty as it is, all forest-green, flowing lace and silky details that you loved from the moment you saw it, just has one simple zipper.

Unfortunately, your hands scramble for purchase– it is just out of your reach, and it’s exceedingly annoying to try and zip it from the back when you can’t see it. 

The dress is flowing loosely around you as you sigh loudly, and decide to turn towards your bathroom, where you can estimate better with a mirror.

“Howlett?”

Peter comes up behind you, and you feel your skin warm. He’s too close– you’re not even fully dressed– and you hold your hands against the top of your dress, trying to stay modest.

“You’ve caught me in a fairly compromising position, I admit.” You joke quietly, and Peter chuckles.

“Maybe that was my intention.” He whispers half-jokingly, and you close your eyes, trying not to laugh or be turned on by the insinuation. “Kidding. Do you need privacy? I can go.”

“No, no, I need your help.” You mutter. “Could you just– zip up the back of the dress? I can’t reach it.”

“Of course.” Peter gently grasps the zipper, and you feel his hand press against your lower back, the heat emanating through the silk fabric, and with one fluid motion, he zips you up, the dress fitting perfectly, no longer free flowing but now clearly draped and styled in a way that accentuates the way you look.

Peter twists your shoulders so you’re facing him, and with an uncustomary amount of emotion, feels his breath hold. You look so gorgeous– so stunning, in a way he almost feels reverent when he looks at you– and he cannot help but voice it.

“Wait, you look– amazing–” You had no idea Peter was wearing his suit already. He looks dapper, sweet, calming. 

“Me? Oh man, Howlett. You look so pretty. I don’t even–” Peter harshly swallows. “It almost makes me regret never taking you out to prom.”

“It’s alright, Peter. This can be our do-over.” You kid with him, but he’s still solemn.

“Why was I so stupid?” Peter scowls at himself, and you get the feeling he’s actually going to be upset about this for a long time. “I couldn’t even see what I had, Howlett. You should’ve smacked me upside the head.”

“No, that’s too harsh.” You snicker at his antics. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. If anything, it kind of… brought us closer together? Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Shared trauma.” Peter laughs to himself, but he leans in a little closer. “Sorry, I gotta make up for lost time.”

Before you can admonish Peter for trying to ruin your lipstick, he’s already pulling your face forward in a strong, firm kiss, his lips pressing against yours without preamble or hesitation, and he holds you there– while you feel your insides turn warm, all jelly like, as Peter strokes your hair and face and jaw. He lets go for just a moment– but still presses cute, short kisses against your mouth, little pecks, really, and then he actually stops.

Peter’s lips are that soft red colour you picked out for yourself– he’s basically eaten your lipstick off.

“How many kisses do you need until you feel it’s enough for all the years you missed?” You tease him, gently wiping away at his lips. 

“Honestly, Howlett, it’s never gonna be enough. Seriously, you’re going to want to invest in a real good lip balm treatment because I am going to kiss your lips off.” Peter proves his point by kissing your fingers as you’re wiping his lips, and you snort.

“Real smooth.” You pull out your lipstick and re-apply. “You’ll get tired of it eventually.”

“No.” Peter’s serious. “I’m not gonna get tired of getting to kiss you. It’s a privilege and I can’t take it for granted, so…”

He presses a kiss to the top of your hairline, not wanting to mess up your makeup again, and together you leave to downstairs in the foyer where everyone is waiting for the limo, and you can witness the wedding event of the year.

/

Peter obviously sits next to you in the limo. The bridal and groom’s party are all grouped together in one giant limo, while MJ is being escorted in a very fancy, ivory white Volkswagen beetle with her parents, which will then be the newlywed’s car to drive off in, and Harry– being Harry– is driving in on a fast motorcycle, leading everyone to the Florence Cathedral.

There’s plenty of space in the limo. Gwen and Miles are taking pictures of each other using an instant camera, while Gayle and Betty gossip about some of the guests posting stories on instagram– supposedly someone is wearing white, and Gayle launches a plan to help her sister out and “accidentally” throw some red wine on the dress. 

The other groomsmen mostly keep among themselves. You blink and realize that you’ve never really conversed with them– they’re mostly Harry’s friends and they have their own stuff to talk about. 

Betty offers to take a picture of Gwen and Miles– somehow turning out stunning under her adept fingers, with just a smartphone camera– and you know that’s why MJ loves her. The one time Betty shot MJ for the highschool newspaper, it was all over from there– it basically launched her career after it went viral.

Then Betty turns the camera towards you and Peter. “Smile for the camera, Howlett. You too, Parker.”

She’s as deadpan as ever, but you and Peter lean into each other over the seats, smiling with not a hint of irony. You’re happy.

The film prints out, and Betty holds it away from the light, shaking it a little, and as the image appears, she hands it to you two.

“Wow.” Peter traces the edge of the photo. “This is… maybe better than my photography skills, somehow.”

“I know that’s a real compliment if it’s coming from your egotistical ass, Parker.” Betty sniffs, and shuffles away to gossip with Gayle again.

“Howlett, you’re so…” Peter inhales and sighs, as if he really can’t believe he’s around you, and you feel yourself blush. “I’m putting this in my jacket pocket. Just as a sweet memory.”

“Aw, you sap.” You giggle, and Peter laughs.

/

There are loads of people in the Florence Cathedral, all admiring the architecture, the religious art pieces, the tile work. Far more people than you would’ve accounted for– but then you remember that many of these guests are not staying at the Villa. You see more models, more tech billionaires, but also…neighbours, friends, family. Sweet memories connected with all of these people.

To your surprise, your father is already at the church, having left with Norman an hour ago. He’s conversing with a mature, pretty redhead that you recognize instantly.

“Oh my god– Ms. Grey?” You shove Logan out of the way, and he grumbles but smiles to keep up appearances. Jean fixes him a glance that totally tells you she knows about his grumpy history, and she likes it. “You’re here?”

“Of course I am.” She’s wear a teal blue dress, light gold heels, and somehow, despite a few wrinkles and spots– she still looks like your second grade teacher. “You’ve grown up into a lovely young woman, Howlett.”

“She has.” Logan pats your shoulder, looking the part of a proud father. Actually, if you really look into his eyes– you can see that they’re wet.

“Oh… thank you.” You swallow sincerely, hoping you won’t make your father cry. “You look very nice, too, Ms. Grey.”

“Yeah. I agree.” Peter chimes in from behind you, sounding very… wistful. You giggle.

“Oh wow. I never would’ve expected you to be so tall now, Peter!” Jean pinches his cheek. “Thanks.”

Peter is definitely fulfilling some childhood fantasy right now, with how deeply he’s blushing, you think. But you still ask Jean why she’s here.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t know?” She laughs. “I’m MJ’s aunt. Well, more like a family-friend aunt. Not really related. But still.”

“Wow, really?” You want to ask more questions, but the church bells have started ringing.

 “Well, I must go take my seat now. Thanks for being such darling students, my dears.” Jean Grey leaves you two– not before giving Logan a rather loaded, heated look. Maybe slightly inappropriate for church. 

“You’re probably not going to wash that cheek, are you?” Logan teases Peter, scratching his own jaw. “Don’t blame you.”

“Why don’t you go after her, Dad?” You cross your arms. “Why not just… try?”

“It’s not that simple, kid.” 

“Sure it is.” Peter holds Logan’s shoulder– and to your surprise, Logan doesn’t shove him off. “You told me not to give up on Howlett–”

“I told you not to break her fucking heart again, Parker.”

“Okay, same thing applies here. Why end things with Ms. Grey? Because you think you’re not good enough? You’re a washed up veteran?” Peter scoffs.

“Watch it…” Logan warns him.

“Right, right. Sorry. Have you ever thought that maybe Ms. Grey’s waiting for you to make a move? Maybe you’re giving up because you’re sabotaging yourself.” Peter shakes his head. “You don’t deserve to be alone after… after…”

“My namesake.” You flatly comment.

“Yeah, her.” Peter’s eyes soften, and Logan actually seems to be listening. “Give yourself a chance, Logan.”

“Wow. Normally I’d have to beat your ass for talking so disrespectfully to me, Parker.” Logan exhales. “But even I can admit you’re not… wrong. I’ll think about it.”

And Peter flashes that smile at you, that overly confident, I-just-fixed-it smile that you absolutely adore.

/

Peter lends you his arm as you walk down the aisle again, slow, smooth, everything moving as it should. It feels strangely perfect, in a way that you’ve never felt that your life was, and you can’t help but grin at people– they smile back at you, too. 

You catch little details in the church pews– floral details, lace and chiffon draping over seats, and a candlelit glow make everything seem particularly magical. The Cathedral’s artfully designed dome and tilework lends itself well to the feeling that something spiritual, something momentous is about to occur. 

The gold chain bracelet MJ gifted you a few days ago glints against your wrist– as Peter’s does, too. You wonder if MJ and Harry planned that together. Some sort of pre-engagement ring type of deal.

Peter smiles at you once you part at the altar. Really, he kind of– chokes out a smile, a huge grin that he can’t help but convey towards you. And you know that you love him.

The rest of the wedding party walks in, MJ being the very last. You watch as a silence falls over the people of the church, a hush of emotion and awe, to finally see the bride on her big day. MJ looks sweet, reverent and graceful, and she grasps her parents’ arms tightly, while Harry catches her eyes, and you can see his adam’s apple bob up and down. Maybe Harry’s getting soft.

The priest begins the wedding service for real. MJ looks pleased, nervous, obviously running on nerves, while Harry is bashful, shy, like a little boy again. 

Before you know it… it’s over. You and Peter are called over to be witnesses to the wedding document, and you sign it, feeling an air of relief, some sort of satisfying completion to this wild journey.

Harry dips MJ– tall as she is– at the front of the church, in a sweeping kiss that has people clapping and cheering.

/

The Villa is full of thumping music when you arrive back. People are already dancing, swaying, eating, drinking, either in the outdoor garden space, or inside the house itself.

But you only want to be with Peter. You’re not even spending time with the other bridesmaids– but Gwen, Betty and Gayle seem to understand deeply about your affection for Peter, and they let you go with smiles that seem to know something. 

Peter and Harry are already taking tequila shots at the bar, wasting no time, and Harry’s mouth stretches into a large smile when he sees you. “Hey, speak of the devil!”

He motions for you to come over.

“You guys were talking about me?” You snort, and Peter turns a little pinker.

“Duh, as if this guy can talk about anything else.” Harry playfully punches Peter. “Howlett, you might have to marry him, or he’s never gonna shut up.”

“Uh… yeah, that’s just my drunk brain talking. I don’t mean any pressure.” Peter tries to excuse himself by drinking another random shot. 

“He doesn’t know I want to marry him too.” You whisper to Harry. “Since ninth grade, I think.”

“He’s a dude, Howlett. Coming from another dude– we are blind sometimes.” Harry passes you a shot. “Have you made things official yet? Settled the deal?”

“That’s the business talk coming out.” You joke, and Harry laughs.

“True. But trust me, Peter can be dumb. Until you really… make it official, he’s not gonna believe that you’re into him of all people. He’s really insecure.” Harry sounds distant, sad, as Peter continues talking to the bartender, totally oblivious.

“Oh. I told him that he has to ask me to be his girlfriend before I really agree to it.” You respond, and Harry shakes his head with a wry smile.

“Who’s the one with the business talk now?” He laughs, and you shrug as if you really are that shrewd.

“I think I’ve suffered long enough.”

“That, you have.” Harry cheers to that and hands you a shot, which you drink gratefully.

/

After a bit of erratic, half-drunk dancing– whatever DJ was hired for this is amazing at picking songs that force you to, at the very least, bop your head– Peter pulls you aside.

“What’s up?” You ask him, still a little sweaty and frazzled from the music.

“I want to get some water. Like the icy water from the fridge? Just to sober up a little.” Peter shrugs, and you glance upwards at him.

“You really need me to be there for that?” You raise your eyebrows, and Peter scrambles for a response.

“Well… I… uh, I just want you there. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Peter admits, and you snicker.

“I will. I needed a break from dancing, too.”

Together you stroll through the garden, up to the backyard doors of the house, laughing about how fun everything is, and you really meander– taking a lot of time to stare at Peter, and him at you– and you don’t notice something is off until Peter pulls you to the side, just behind the bar counter of the kitchen.

“Wh–” You cut yourself off, watching a deep-red ponytail bob up and down at rapid speed, with gusto. Tan shoulders and just a hint of bare breasts coming up past the counter, where you can see her. 

It’s definitely Ms. Grey. Uh… Jean. You can just make out the edge of her side profile from beyond the counter, as she convulses on the floor, riding someone unseen, and she moans, “Logan, oh my god, Logan–!”

Peter pulls you away by the hand, down the hallway and into a random closet, before you can let yourself fully grasp the idea of potentially seeing your father deep in the throes of passion. You are so glad you didn’t see or hear anymore than that.

“Damn. When I told Logan to go for it… I didn’t think he’d do that.” Peter comments after shutting the door, and you, despite your very childish horror at the whole thing, start giggling. Peter smiles, and you can tell he’s trying to cheer you up.

“I mean… at least he’ll be getting over my namesake.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think Ms. Grey wants to be my mom?”

“Howlett, I’m pretty sure Logan is about to make her one. Without your involvement.” Peter replies drily, and from how clearly you can hear the rasp in his throat, you can tell this closet must not be very big.

You laugh, a little awkwardly now, because you’re still not used to being so close to Peter, not in this context anyways. A dark, shady closet, where it’s just the two of you, feeling body warmth emanate from each other. Peter’s breaths are hitting somewhere around your hairline, and if you came any closer– you’re sure you would be enveloped by his chest.

“Peter, did you bring me here just to get some alone time?” You tease.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that water.” Peter leans in a little, and you get the sense that he’s actually holding himself back. “But to be honest, Howlett? You’re a pretty good alternative.”

“Right. Because I’m curing your thirst.” You roll your eyes, and Peter laughs.

“See, this is what I love about you. You always know what I’m about to say.” Peter says, and he watches you, in the near darkness of the closet, tense a little. 

Peter searches around for a light switch, and finds it. A tiny, yellow bulb lights up in the centre of the room, and you realize the closet is bigger than you thought.

A chaise lounge, grey in color, is off to the side.  

“I just wanted to see you.” Peter answers the question he knows you were about to ask. 

“Oh.” You smile up at him, but there’s still uncertainty in your posture.

“Howlett, what’s wrong? Am I being too much?” He looks into your eyes, and you just don’t know how to answer.

“No. I just… I’m bad at this.” You grow shy under Peter’s watchful eye.

“So am I.” He takes your hand. “But you know what? It’s time to be adults about this. I’m gonna reiterate it, I love you.”

Something about his emphasis on the word love has you spluttering and laughing, and Peter repeats it anyways, in different stresses and tones, “I love you. I LOVE YOU. I love you. I love you, Howlett.”

“I know, I know. I love you too.” It spills out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but Peter grins eagerly and nods. “You’ve already told me that before.”

“You mean when I was drunk a couple days ago, right? Well I meant it then, and I mean it now.” Peter nods firmly. 

“Do you remember that you’ve kissed me before, too?” You ask just out of curiosity, and Peter turns a little pink before admitting that he does.

“Who could forget the beach sunscreen kiss? I still think of that as my first one.” Peter laughs quietly. “But yesterday was more… um…”

“Real.” You whisper, and Peter nods again, this time with a little more agitation in his eyes, and you watch him mull over something, obviously thinking about kissing you after speaking about it, and you know you want to after the heated memories of yesterday, and his eyes glance towards your mouth, before he decides on it.

Peter sweeps you up in a kiss that’s far more lustful and tense, grasping around your waist and hips as he pulls you in, and you feel his lips soften against yours, melting as you feel a rhythm occur naturally. You kiss him back and you know that knowing Peter for so long has enabled you– it’s like the two of you were made to be together.

He kisses down your neck, and pulls down the silky front of your dress– as much as it will allow, at least– and kisses soft, open mouthed kisses against your cleavage, which causes you to writhe against him a little. Eventually Peter finds the zipper of your dress and pulls it down halfway, allowing him to really dip his mouth against your bare breasts, and you groan as Peter lightly sucks on your nipple.

“...Jesus Christ, Howlett…” Peter murmurs in between kissing your chest and upwards on your neck and jaw. “I don’t even… know how long I wanted to do this.”

There’s not many words to be shared from you as you feel yourself turn lightheaded, and you kiss Peter again, taking control of his mouth, relishing the feeling of his tongue swiping against yours, leading him back towards the very convenient chaise lounge chair. There, Peter discards his blazer and unbuttons his shirt, and lies back against the chair, his dick clearly straining against his pants.

You kiss him again, sitting right on his bulge, lifting your skirt a little higher so Peter can feel the shift of your bare skin against him, through the fabric pants, and his eyes roll back into his head as you kiss him, grind a little. Maybe it’s too much– Peter grabs your ass and pulls up the skirt even higher, pushing you down on his clothed bulge with too much intensity– and you feel pleasant tingles spread across your skin as his bulge presses into you, almost inside you, against the thin underwear that you’re wearing. You’re very slick– you shudder as Peter pulls down the zipper of your dress fully, and you feel his hands roam across your bare back, and then into the inside of your dress, feeling your waist and breasts. 

“I didn’t bring a–” Peter starts, as you let your hands trace up his chest, and he clearly has trouble saying no.

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m on the pill.” You say, matter-of-factly, mostly interested in staying on top of Peter until he begs for more. “Just for hormonal reasons.”

“Oh… okay…” Peter inhales as you press more kisses against his neck. “Howlett… it’s a lot for me to handle.”

“Huh?”

Before Peter can really answer, he whispers an apology before tightly gripping your waist, and he sits upright, pulling you flush against his chest. Then, as he zips off his pants– he somehow takes them off completely, leaving him in just his boxers. There’s a wet spot– and Peter is pulling his boxers off, too. 

His dick is hard, almost painfully so based on his expression, and you understand you riled him up a little too much. With one hand– Peter reaches under your skirt, and you help him pull off your underwear with shaky, sweaty hands. 

You’re aroused enough that it doesn’t hurt. When Peter slowly enters you, as you lower yourself down on him, you feel electric on the inside, some sort of satisfyingly sick combination of love and lust overtaking you, and you feel full from the pressure, feeling Peter throb inside you, and you’ve never felt so close to him as you do now, and he starts a rapid pace of thrusting into you, holding you tightly against him as he does, his thighs smacking against your ass.

You do feel pleasure, a sharp ache starting to build in your lower regions, as Peter continues to press overly hot kisses against your jaw, but you also feel loved. It doesn’t feel like a hookup, and you know it isn’t. You know as Peter wraps his arms around your waist, he’s not just using you, he really loves you.

He watches as you fall over his shoulder, having reached the peak of your climax, and Peter pulls out, letting himself finish on his own leg.

“You didn’t… have to…” You sleepily tell him.

“I know. I was just taking a precaution.” Peter whispers, and he holds you close as you fall asleep on top of him. “Love you, Howlett.”

He’s really glad this closet has a locked door.

/

The morning after the wedding, you wake up to find yourself mysteriously dressed in a oversized tee shirt, and your panties. You’re lying in your own bed, but you don’t know how you got here.

Peter is sleeping next to you. His brown hair is dishevelled, and he’s wearing a random tee shirt too. Actually, you think you recognize that from Harry’s wardrobe.

“Peter. Hey, Peter.” You shake his shoulder. “Peter Parker!”

“Huh? What’s that?” He sleepily rubs his eyes. “Oh, morning, Howlett.”

“How did we get here? After we… I mean, you know.” You blush. “What did you do?”

“Oh.” Peter lets himself get up for real, sitting up on the bed. “I waited it out until no one was near the stairs, and then I took you upstairs to your room. I changed your dress for you. There were randoms in my room, so I hope you don’t mind that I stayed in here with you.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” You wrinkle your brows, frowning. “I just wonder why you did all that even though I’m not your girlfriend.”

Peter pauses. Actually, he genuinely stills, no movement at all.

“Oh, Howlett. You scared me.” He shakes his head, before grabbing your hands. “I just kinda assumed after yesterday, you would believe that’s enough evidence.”

“Humor me.” You slightly smile as Peter agrees with a little shake of his head.

“I’ll be serious. I am serious.” Peter grows solemn. “Howlett. I’ve known you my entire life, practically. I can’t picture it being without you. The year or so that it was, was maybe the worst year of my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just appreciate you all the more now.” Peter traces your knuckles. “I’ve grown– we’ve grown up a lot. I needed that, so I could be here to ask you now. Would you be my girlfriend? My partner, if that sounds more equal and appropriate to you?”

“Yes.” You pull Peter into a hug, surely one of many from now on, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m so glad we went on this trip.”

Peter smiles fondly. He’s never been more glad, either.

“I never want to let you down again, Peter.” You admit shyly. “I hope it’s not cheesy to say I want to be around you all the time.”

“It isn’t.” Peter presses a very chaste, soft kiss against your lips, and he feels, finally, that his life is really coming together. 

So do you.

[heyitsme1040]

Swing By [spider-man]

summary : Reader just finished her shift at the coffee shop near campus. Wanting nothing more than to nap in her dorm before her study session, she walks home. Being pulled into an alley by two muggers wasn’t on her to-do list for the day. Neither was being saved by New York’s very own friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Swung to safety, she thanks her masked savior. With the promise of not leaving her until she’s home safe, Spider-Man gets a kiss on the cheek as goodbye minutes before Peter arrives to study for the exam with his lab partner. 

pairings : TASM!Spider-Man/Reader 

warnings : Swearing (I think it’s literally one word), mention of a knife, attempted mugging, mention of feeling the need to be sick (it doesn’t happen), and I think that’s it.  (If I forgot any please let me know!)

word count : 1,980

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day one of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘safe’.  

With a tired sigh, I wipe down the counter around the espresso machine one final time. Tossing the rag back into the bucket filled with soapy water, I begin to untie my apron. Finally finished with the closing process, I was ready to be back at my dorm so I could take a quick nap before studying for my biophysics exam with my lab partner. Hanging my apron on the hook I claimed in the back, I emerged from behind the counter with my backpack and headphones for the final time today. Turning the lights off, I finally close the door behind me and lock it.

I began the quiet walk to campus instead of waiting on the bus today. The sun is starting to set as I weave my way through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. Passing a quiet alley, I’m suddenly pulled into it. A hand covers my mouth before I can shout, and two more hands hold my arms against my side. 

“You’re going to stay quiet,” a rumbling voice tells me. “No need to disturb those nice people’s day,” the man pointed at the opening to the alley with a knife, “don’t you agree?”

All I can do is nod, hoping that if I cooperate they’ll let me go faster. 

“I’m so glad you agree,” his voice mocks me. “Now, I’m going to keep an eye on you while he takes your bag. Got it?”

Before I can nod again, my backpack is ripped off my shoulders. I look past the man holding the knife toward the mouth of the alley, debating if I can make it back into the crowd before he could catch me. 

“This shit’s useless,” the guy behind me grumbles. “It’s just binders and textbooks,” he complains as I hear my things being dropped to the ground. “This kid has nothing.”

“Well she’s gotta have something,” the man in front of me slowly drags his eyes over me. “Empty your pockets or we’ll–”

He cuts himself off while looking over my shoulder. I hear a faint thwip followed by a choked shout. As the man in front of me turns to run I see webs stick to his feet and the ground. 

“What, can't you stick around?” A voice comes from above me. 

I stay frozen in place, unsure what to do. In a streak of red and blue, Spider-Man lands in front of me. He quickly webs the knife to the wall before trapping the man’s hands to himself. 

“Are you okay?” He automatically asks while turning to face me. 

My tongue feels like lead. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Obviously I knew of Spider-Man, but never thought I’d need to be saved by him. I was stunned by this hero, that he happened to notice what was happening in the alley. 

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now, did they hurt you?” His tone softens. 

I can’t see past the white lenses of his mask, but I feel his eyes searching me for some kind of injury. The thought of having his attention focused on me snaps me out of my shocked trance. 

“I’m fine,” I blurted out, “thank you. I, uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

I nod to myself while mentally slapping myself over the word vomit that just escaped me. Looking down, I suddenly remember my bag dumped behind me. I turn around, hoping to hide the embarrassed flush on my face, and crouch to grab my textbooks. Shoving them into my bag, I pick up my binder. As soon as it leaves the ground all my notes start to float out of it into the wind. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter while rushing to grab the papers. 

“Here,” Spider-Man offers me some pages. 

“Thanks,” I squeak out. 

“No problem.” 

Finally zipping my bag shut, I hear sirens approaching. The flash of red and blue lights reflect at the mouth of the alley. 

“Did you let them know they needed to come here?” I groan once again, not wanting to deal with the police.

“I, uh, it’s just–you were being mugged.” I was shocked to hear Spider-Man fumbling over his words. “I reported it before I stopped it. Don’t want these two mugging more people. Y’know the whole ‘friendly neighborhood’ thing isn’t just to describe me.”

I sigh heavily, “I get it. I just don’t want to deal with the cops today. I need to get home soon and don’t have the time to deal with this.”

“The cops don’t like me–”

“Then why did you–”

“So I can swing you home before they arrive.”

Spider-Man holds an arm out to me. I don’t have much time to think as I hear the sirens get louder. Slinging my backpack on, I step closer to him. He wraps his arm around my waist. 

Keeping me facing him he warns, “Close your eyes and hold on as tight as you want,” before he leaps us into the air. 

I quickly bury my face into where I have my arms wrapped around his neck. The rush of us swinging through the air has my head spinning and my stomach dropping. Within minutes I feel him stand on steady ground, my feet landing moments after his. I don’t move yet as my head continues to swim. I feel a warm touch against my hands as he gently pries my hands away from behind his neck. He doesn’t move to push me away from my hiding place in his neck, but he does slowly guide us to sit on the ground. 

“You’re okay,” he reassures. “The head rush is intense the first few times. Putting your head between your knees helps with the dizziness.”

I nod at his guidance, not moving yet. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“That’s normal, too. Putting your head between your knees also helps with that.”

I slowly unbury myself from him and carefully place my head between my knees. The spinning sensation lets up a little, but I still can’t move from my position. I look at the gravel beneath my shoes, focusing on the pebbles to keep my vision steady. 

“Thank you,” I whisper out, barely audible.

“No problem,” Spider-Man chuckles, “just part of being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re on top of the Saratoga children’s museum.” 

“How?” I incredulously demand. “That’s like a mile from the coffee shop. And it’s been only, what, a couple of minutes?”

Spider-Man shrugged, but I heard his amused snort. “It’s the same as if you would have driven here.”

I shook my head in disbelief, finally lifting my head to look at him. I couldn’t believe the nonchalance of his answer. He casually swings through the city at like forty miles an hour. And he acts as though that’s nothing. 

“Where do you need to go? Spider-Cab can drop you off wherever you want to go in New York. Free of charge,” he jokes around his offer. 

“Empire State college. Back toward the coffee shop. Then another half mile and you’ll be at the dorms there,” I explain. “But I can get a cab there. You’ve already saved me, and I’m sure someone else out there could use the assistance.”

“I can take you. It’s part of the job. Saving them from danger and keeping them safe. If that means taking you to your dorm, then I promise to keep you safe until then.”

“Alright,” I concede. “Do you have to swing that fast though? I don’t think I can take it.”

Spider-Man stands and offers me a hand, “I’ll go slower this time.”

Taking his hand, Spider-Man pulls me to my feet before pulling away. He turns his back toward me this time and squats down a little. 

“What are you doing?” I tilt my head. 

“Hop on,” he looks over his shoulder. “It won’t be as bad if you’re facing where we swing.”

I hesitate a moment longer before putting my arms around him. His hands grab behind my knees and he shrugs me higher onto his back. He moves one hand to my ankle and crosses it around his waist. Understanding what he’s suggesting, I wrap the other around him. 

“Hold on tight. We’re going to be slower, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hold on tight. I’ve got you, but it’s a bit trickier with someone on my back. Are you okay with this?” He places his hand on top of mine across his chest. 

“I trust you,” I admit. 

I barely hear him say, “I’m glad,” as he stands on the ledge. “Here we go!” He shouts.

And just like that we’re swinging through the city again. I squint against the rushing wind, but keep my eyes open. The city looks so different like this. We’re soaring through the air, people below us unaware we’re here. The sounds of traffic can’t be heard over the wind. It’s peaceful. 

All too soon it comes to an end. Spider-Man swings us past the coffee shop again, and soon we’re at the college campus. I shout over the wind which dorm building is mine and laugh as he gently lowers us to the roof. I feel adrenaline rushing through me alongside the excitement of having swung through the city. 

“Here we are,” Spider-Man announces. 

“I don’t think I can move,” I giggle out. 

I feel him laugh more than I hear it. He once again carefully pries my off of him, unwrapping my legs from his waist before turning in my hold. I don’t feel as dizzy this time, but with how close he is my head is spinning for a different reason. 

“Home safe and sound,” he murmurs. “Just like I promised you.”

“Thank you,” I sigh. 

I finally release my hold from around him, but he doesn’t move. Remaining close to me, I try to imagine what he’s doing behind the mask. If his eyes are searching me the way mine are him. With a lot of courage (and reckless abandon) I kiss him on the cheek. 

“Good night, Spider-Man,” I whisper against his cheek. “Thank you again for saving me.”

I turn away before he can respond, opening the door to the roof access. 

“Good night,” he calls after me. 

I turn to look at him. He hasn’t moved from his spot, but now his hand rests over his cheek. I wave as the door shuts behind me. I feel like I’m floating as I make my way down the stairs to my floor. Unlocking my door, I flop onto my bed with a sigh. Looking at the alarm clock near my head, I see the lights blinking ‘5:45 PM’. I smile in relief that I made it back before my study session at six. I lay still as the feeling of excitement fades away with the adrenaline. Soon, I hear a knock on my door through the haze of a nap creeping into my mind. I look at the clock again to see it’s only been five minutes. Getting up, I crack the door open to see who it is. Recognizing Peter, I quickly close the door and remove the chain before opening it up all the way. 

“Hi,” Peter cheerily greets. 

“Hey,” I smile, “you’re early for a change.”

“I’m usually on time. I’m just chronically late to classes,” he jokes. 

I laugh at his comment. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. You ready to cram for this exam?”

“This professor’s exams are the worst. At least I brought snacks this time,” he groans. 

I close the door as he enters and lock it. Turning on my laptop I opened the study guide the professor emailed us. As we study, I turn the radio on low, smiling as the voice of J. Jonah Jameson starts to bark on about the most recent Spider-Man sighting earlier tonight. 

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