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blooming-violets · 1 year ago

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Hear me out :

Peter is jaded after Gwen, it’s before the events of NWH, and he’s slowly starting to fall in love with a woman he’s (literally) ran into at the library. She’s intellectual, kind, but is also a little jaded like Peter. Slowly, he has seen hope in her chestnut eyes. He is starting to see a future.

One night, Peter is listening to the police scanners and hears the code for an armed break-in, and it’s library girl’s apartment complex’s address.

He swallows, angry chills run up his spine as he hears her apartment number called out.

What does he do, Katie? How would he react?

I'm With You || TASM Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: stalking, sexual assault of a woman (being masturbated over by a man and touched w/o consent), nudity, crass language, gun usage, armed break-ins with the intent to harm a woman living alone, being tied and gagged against her will, violence from Peter/Spider-Man with a tiny bit of gore

It’s a damn cold night.

Peter tugged his jacket close around his body as he jogged the last few remaining steps into the public library. His overdue books were hidden inside the satchel at his side. He was about a month late in returning them and the library was almost closed. He wanted to get them in before he forgot. If he waited another day, he would never remember to bring them back.

As he rounded the corner, he tripped over someone’s outstretched legs. Being a man of his talents, he quickly corrected his fall to land effortlessly back on his feet with the elegance of a ballerina making a graceful leap.

Quizzical eyes stared up at him.

The woman on the floor was leaning with her back against the bookcase with an open book in her lap. She looked more annoyed at him for tripping over her instead of apologetic for having her legs across the aisle.

“Watch where you’re going,” she grumbled.

She lifted the book up to her face, blocking him back out.

Peter let out a breathy laugh of disbelief at the audacity of this bitch.

“Excuse me?” He said, agast.

She peeked her eyes over the top of the book to stare him down, “Dude, get lost. I’m busy. Not my fault you’re clumsy.”

“You tripped me!” He read the cover of the book she was reading. The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes. “Doing a bit of light reading, I see. First it’s tripping innocent strangers and next it’s world domination? Is that it?”

He caught the smallest of smiles tug at her lips hidden behind the book.

A singular butterfly fluttered around inside his stomach at the sight. The feeling was enough to grab his attention. He quietly admired her. Legs still stretched out in front of her. Zero regard for the space she was taking up. He kind of liked it. She didn’t give a shit.

Peter turned and left her to her book, not wanting to bother her further, and headed to the front desk to deal with his late fees.

A week had passed and he was back in the library. He had no real purpose for being there today other than he liked the smell of the books. They made him feel relaxed. He liked to walk down the aisles and let his fingers graze across each bump of their spines. Every book he touched, filled with another story, another world, hundreds of lives under the tips of his fingers.

“Hey,” a feminine voice hissed from between a gap of books on the other side of the shelf.

Those eyes. He blinked back at them, peering between the shelves, trying to place where he remembered them from.

Then it hit him.

Atomic bomb girl.

“Can I borrow your height?” She whispered, keeping her voice low to be respectful to the people studying on the other side of the room. Unlike the last time he saw her, it was a Thursday afternoon and the library was full with students.

Peter slipped into the next aisle. She pointed to the book she wanted on the top shelf, just out of her reach. He plucked it down for her and turned it over in his hands. Relativity: The Special and the General Theory by Albert Einstein.

She eyed him with an intensity he wasn’t used to, like she was seeing straight through his skin and into his soul. Her eyes were captivating. He wanted to get lost in them.

“You’re the unbalanced, trippy guy, right?” She asked.

Peter smiled. Last night he stood on one foot on top of the Empire State Building spire just to admire the view. He was more balanced than she would ever know.

“You mean, am I the one you tripped? Yes.” He handed her over the book. “You’re into science, I see, atomic bomb girl?”

“I’m into learning. Whatever form that may come in.” She took the book and tucked it under her arm. “Thanks, trippy.”

“Peter,” he called after her as she spun around to walk away. “You can call me Peter!”

The library became his new home. He took every opportunity to attend in the hopes of bumping into her again. Some days were a success, other’s a failure, but he found himself wanting more. Every time she had a new book and every time he would find the same one to read after her. It wasn’t weird. He was just…trying to find quiet ways to relate to someone new.

So he told himself.

Peter had forgotten how to talk to women after Gwen. It had been so long since he even attempted to date anyone.

“Are you stalking me?” She asked one evening when she walked into the room to find him sitting on his laptop at one of the tables.

He glanced up and shrugged, “I was here first this time. Maybe you’re stalking me?”

She smiled and slid into the seat across from him, “I already have one stalker. I don’t need another. If you’re into me, you better just grow a pair, and ask me out now.”

Peter grinned, “I’m…wait…okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, sitting up straighter, completely letting the stalker comments fly over his head as he got flustered. “Would you like to go on a date with me? Right here. Right now. If you say ‘yes’ then it’s already starting.” He closed his laptop to give her his full attention.

Her eyes widened and she settled happily back into her chair, “Alright, Peter, was it? Nice to meet you. This is an interesting choice of restaurant for a first date. Not what I would have chosen for our dinner and a movie night. I didn’t see a kitchen when I walked in but I chose to trust you.”

“This is the finest establishment the borough has to offer,” he feigned a gasp. “Don’t you insult my choice of restaurant.”

He raised a finger in the air, pretending to call over an imaginary waiter, “Hello, yes, I will take your finest bottle of wine for the table to start. The more expensive, the better. And I will take a big, giant steak for myself and, perhaps, a nice, small salad for the lovely lady?” He shot her a cheeky wink as she let out a laugh.

“Fuck you,” she giggled.

Fucking him was exactly what she did.

They continued their imaginary dinner date in the library until it closed, the librarian kicking them out and shooing them out the front door. They walked into the chilly night air, stopping at a bodega at the street corner to grab a few snacks, as they made their way to her place.

He had slept with other women since Gwen passed but this time was different. There were feelings involved. Feelings that were still in their infancy. Ones that were just sparking to life. But they were there. He didn’t just want to fuck her and run. He wanted more than that. He wanted to stay. He wanted to grow and cultivate whatever path they were headed down. He wanted this to be something.

He was ready to try dating again.

She rolled over in the bed, naked and relaxed, staring up at the ceiling, “That was amazing. You really know how to use that tongue of yours for more than just being a dick. I’m impressed.”

Peter chuckled, “Oh, please, your tongue was nothing to scoff at either.”

It really had been one of the best blow jobs of his life.

He leaned on his side, propping his head up with his hand, and gazed happily down at her, “I want to take you on a real date. Saturday night. To an actual restaurant.”

She hesitated. A shadowed sadness darkened her eyes which she quickly pushed away, “Okay. I think I can do that.”

Peter frowned, “Something wrong?”

She shook her head, leaning over to kiss him as a distraction, “Nope. When you leave, can you leave through one of the side doors? Don’t walk out the front of the apartment.”

That was his cue to leave, apparently. He chewed anxiously against his bottom lip. Maybe he was misreading whatever he thought was going on between them. Maybe she wanted a quick fuck and nothing more. Come to think of it, when they entered here, she had snuck them in the back door, too, making him walk a few feet behind her like they weren’t together.

Maybe she was in a relationship and cheating on her partner with him?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She offered, casually urging him to get out of the bed. “Text me. I stuck my contact in your phone earlier.”

Peter left feeling more confused and unsure than when he entered her place.

He lifted his phone as he walked through the streets, searching the contracts until he found her under ❤️Atomic Bomb Girl❤️, and he smiled down at it. A heart. Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe her front door was just broken. He always went straight to assuming the worst.

Someone slammed into his shoulder, jostling him out of his thoughts, and he glanced behind him. A large, buff man glared back at him. He looked to be in his late fifties and was balding. His massive arms bulged under his tight fitting, worn down leather jacket. He reached out to clamp a hand down around Peter’s upper arm.

Peter frowned and tried to jerk away, “Dude, it was an accident, chill.”

“Did you fuck that girl up there?” That man asked, nodding his head back to her apartment building. There was a crazed desperation in his voice. “I saw you following her home. Did she spread her legs for you and whore herself out? Did you get a good look at that tight, little pussy? Tell me, what did it look like? You take any pictures? I’ll pay you for them.”

Peter jerked his arm out of the man’s grasp, scowling in disgust, “What the fuck? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wasn’t following anyone. I was meeting a friend who lives there. Fuck off.”

The man leaned forward and inhaled his scent causing Peter to jump back.

“I can smell her on you,” he growled as his eyes rolled back into his head. “That’s her perfume. I know because I bought it for her. You were fucking her.”

That was enough.

Peter shoved the older man off of him and jogged around the corner, waiting until he was out of sight before throwing himself up onto her building roof, peering over the edge to keep an eye on him.

He was just pacing back and forth outside the apartment door, mumbling to himself and fidgeting with something in his pocket.

“Freak,” Peter muttered under his breath.

He pulled up her contact and sent her a text: Some crazy old dude just ambushed me outside your place. Asked about you. Maybe don’t go outside tonight. I think he’s not right in the head.

He saw three bubbles appear as she started to text back but then they disappeared again, leaving him hanging.

Peter shrugged it off. He stayed and kept watch until the man finally wandered off down the street.

The night before he was supposed to take her out on a date, Peter was laid over his bed in his Spider suit sans mask. His police scanner let out more static of nothing as he waited for something, anything, to happen. He was bored but it was too cold to hang around on a rooftop somewhere. He would stay in the warmth of his bedroom unless something exciting came his way. They had been texting back and forth nonstop for the last few days and calling each other every night to talk for hours. He liked it when she sent him pictures of things she was doing around her house during the day. She was adorable and he looked forward to whenever his phone would buzz.

As if on cue, it vibrated across the mattress next to him.

He lifted it up in a gloved hand to read the text. A frown settled over his face as he read it.

Atomic Bomb Girl: ha ha ha i win u lose dontever touch wat is mine again

Right as he was attempting to decipher what she was talking about, taking note of how drastic of a change of text from her usual ones it was, the police scanner lit to life.

“All available units to Linden Boulevard, Oak Ridge Apartments, floor three. Multiple calls of gunshots heard and one reported casualty of a security guard. Suspect is wearing dark clothes, caucasian older male, considered armed and dangerous. Approach with caution.”

His senses exploded in a panicked wave of tingles. That was her place. Her floor. The image of that strange man assaulting him on the street after he left came back to hit him like a ton of bricks. Peter looked back at his phone as the pieces fell into place.

Oh, fuck.

Quiet, controlled anger replaced the panic. His heart rate steadied as a calm chill fell over him. His jaw locked in determination. He reached for his mask, tugging it over his stone cold, deadly expression, and he leaped out of his open window.

Peter Parker no longer fucked around when it came to protecting the one’s he cared about. This was personal.

He arrived at the scene in record speed, landing directly on top of a black S.W.A.T truck as it pulled up. He rapped a fist down on the hood to get their attention.

“Feel free to sit this one out, boys!” He called down to them. “Spidey’s got you covered! I’ll be in and out in minutes. No need to worry. Focus on crowd control. I’ve got a date with a balding fucker. If all goes well, it’ll end up with a quickie in the back of a cop car, as I ride his ass straight to prison.”

Peter threw himself up onto her building, scaling to the third floor and around to find her window. He knew exactly where he would find his perp. His masked face popped up in her bedroom window. It was empty and quiet. He slammed his fist through the glass, slipping his hand inside to find the lock, and shoved it open wide enough for him to shimmy through.

From inside, he could hear muffled cries. Whimpers. They were different from the whimpers he had been able to elicit out of her the other night but he knew them all the same.

Silent as a shadow, Peter crept around the corner. With her hands tied behind her back, her shirt ripped open so her bare chest was on display, and thrown against the couch was his girl. The gun man stood above her. A pistol was aimed directly at her forehead. From this angle, he couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but it looked as if the man was masturbating over her. Trails of mascara ran down her cheeks and she let out muffled cries against the heavy amounts of duct tape blocking her mouth as she struggled to break free.

His anger flared but he tried to push it down to manable levels. He had learned over the years that getting too angry made him sloppy. He needed to control it. Work with it. Tame it into something he could use as a weapon instead of making it a weakness.

Peter crawled up her wall and onto her ceiling, prowling towards the man. Up here, he had a clear view. His dick was out and he was frantically jerking it as fast as he could at her breasts. Her eyes widened in fear but then flashed with hope when caught sight of Spider-Man crawling across her ceiling.

He hadn’t even done anything yet and he already felt pride. She felt a sense of safety around him…even if she didn’t know it was him behind the mask. It made him cocky. Made him want to show off.

When he was directly behind him, he silently lowered himself upside on a web until his face was hung directly behind the assailant.

“I’m actually surprised you can even get it up,” he quipped, keeping his voice light, despite the rage eating at his stomach. “I didn’t know something that small could get hard.”

The man whipped around, his dick flopping against his leg, as he sputtered in shock. His pistol went off, firing aimless at the wall behind Peter’s head.

Peter held up his hands in mock surrender as he jumped to his feet, “Whoa, there, tinycock! Don’t go blowing your load so soon! You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

There was no doubt this was the same man he had met outside the other day. His eyes were crazed with an unhinged, desperation that reeked of a man off his meds. Peter made sure to keep the man’s eyes on himself, holding his attention, instead of on her.

“What’s a sad sap like you doing out of the psych ward? Were you a good boy and managed to snag yourself a day pass?” Peter clasped his hands together like he was excited for him, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you used it to visit your daughter? Aww, that’s so sweet. Wait a minute.” He pretended to just now notice the man’s cock hanging out of his pants. It had gone soft and shrunken up like a scared little mouse. “Is she…not your daughter? But you’re so old. And she’s so young. I guess I don’t see any resemblance. She’s really pretty and you’ve got-” He motioned a hand around the man’s face. “-all that. Something tells me that there’s more going on here. Wanna tell your pal Spidey all about it?”

The man was silent, blinking in a shocked awe at the masked hero, before finally snapping out of it. Spider-Man always excelled at talking his bad guys into circles with his stream of conscious babbling. The gun raised towards his head but, quicker than the man could even process, Peter had latched his hand around the barrel and crushed it in his grasp with the same ease as one might squish a can of soda after they finished drinking.

“Whoopies,” he joked. “Looks like your gun broke! I wouldn’t pull that trigger if I were you. It’ll explode right back into your face there. On second thought, maybe give it a go! It might improve what you’re working with!”

The man faltered, looking confused and baffled down at his crushed gun. He clearly wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box. That was okay. Peter didn’t need him to be intelligent. He just needed him to be unarmed.

Which he now was.

Peter grabbed him by the scruff of the collar and turned him around to face her, “Do you see that girl there?” The man’s eyes glazed over as he stared down at her exposed breasts. Peter quickly threw a hand over the man’s eyes to block them, manhandling him around like he wasn’t twice his size. “I take that back. Don’t see that girl there. Use your imagination. Remember her face. You know that girl? Yeah, that girl. The one you tied up and assaulted? The one sitting in front of us, scared out of her mind and traumatized. I want you to remember her. Because if you ever, and I mean ever, even think about her again, if she ever crosses your pathetically shriveled up mind, if you ever say her fucking name, speak about her, think about, look in her direction, or ever come near her again…”

Peter dragged him over to the living room window where the slew of police were barricaded outside. He could hear the S.W.A.T crew moving up the stairwell now towards them and knew they only had a few more precious minutes of alone time. He shoved the man up to the window, raising his arm to force him to wave limply at all the cops down below.

His voice lowered to a dangerous growl. Any playful, sarcastic essence it once held in the presence of his girl disappeared so only the man could hear him.

“If you ever fucking touch her again,” he breathed. “I will toss you off of the Empire State Building and laugh through your entire fall down to your grizzly end.”

With his hand still clutching the man’s collar, he jerked him back and smashed his face directly through the glass window. He heard her muffled scream of shock behind him but he knew she would be alright.

A shard of glass stuck out of the man’s forehead, blood dripping down over his half closed eye, and Peter flicked it off down onto the street below.

“That was for trying to taunt me over text,” he whispered in the dazed man’s ear. “I don’t play nice with men like you. Want to see what it would feel like falling to your death? Here’s a little preview so you’ll be sure to know exactly what you’ll be in for if you ever even think about my woman again.”

Peter reeled back and tossed the man straight out of her window, head first, sending him down to the cops below. If he let his anger win, he would have never set a web straight after him, but she was watching and he didn’t want to be that person. She had gone through enough without having to see her Saturday night date murder a man in front of her.

The web latched onto his back at the final moments to break his fall. His legs may have crumpled against the ground…just a little bit…but he was alive. It was more than he deserved but the cops could deal with him now.

Peter spun around to look back at her. She was quietly sobbing, muffled by her gag, but held a look of relief on her face. She brought her teary eyes up to meet his, or where she thought they would under the mask, and gave him a short nod of thanks.

The S.W.A.T team was nearing her door. He could jump out the window and allow them to help her get free or…

She clung onto him, her head buried in his shoulder, as he soared them down the street and away from the commotion below. She cried softly. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the trauma or that fact that New York’s very own Spider-Man had just stolen her from her home but he kept a firm hold on her and kept whispering reassuring words in her ear.

Eventually, he landed them on top of his own apartment building, setting her down gently onto her bottom.

She gasped for breath, reaching up a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, “I always…wondered…what it would be like…to fly…” Her chest was heaving between each gasping word. “Turns out, it’s terrifying. Still, thank you, Peter. For saving me.”

He shrugged, “It’s no problem. I was just doing my- hey, wait!”

She gave him a sneaky smile, still shivering and teary, but proud of herself for figuring it out.

“What?” She asked, innocently. “You think I wouldn’t know your voice? I’ve been listening to it for hours every night over the phone for the past few days.”

Peter reluctantly reached a hand up to pull off his mask, “You’re good.”

Despite having already guessed his secret identity, she still looked surprised to actually see him without the mask on. He squatted down in front of her to seem less intimidating.

“So that was your stalker, I take it?” He asked.

She nodded, giving a sad sigh, “The one and only. He’s a joy, isn’t he?”

He plopped onto his ass and crossed his legs, giving her a shrug, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again. I may have had some, ahem, choice words to encourage him to find new hobbies.”

She smiled again, blinking back her tears, “Thank you, Peter. Or, should I be calling you Spidey from now on?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, “Look, this is a big deal! You better not go running your mouth or else I’ll have to have some choice words with you, too.”

He liked hearing the sound of her laugh, especially after everything she just went though, and he knew she would be okay.

“I have a date with Spider-Man tomorrow,” she giggled. “How exciting.”

Peter chuckled, “The excitement wears off quickly, trust me.”

She scooted closer to bring her mascara streaked face inches from his, “Somehow I doubt that.”

#andrew garfield #the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm fic #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter fic #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker fic #spiderman #spiderman fic

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periprose · 1 year ago

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i kno its not everyones cup of tea but would u ever do tasm!peter parker as a baby girl dad?? like reader and him are parents to a baby girl 🥹🥹 maybe even pregnant reader!! ajfdhjfd i have many thoughts but i kno again not everyone likes pregnancy/baby stuff

yeah maybe!! honestly I had a dream about this once. It was pretty cute and I can see myself writing something about it lolol. I love babies and pregnancy stuff tbh. If it was feasible financially I'd love to be a mom too!! Baby fever goes hard lol

and I just know tasm Peter would be so good at being a dad... he would love that lil baby to pieces.

Like just imagine him balancing his work and little baby Mayday (just abusing the canon baby name here lol sorry MJ) on his knee. She's full of giggles and wandering hands constantly touching whatever tech he's working on.

And Peter's all gentle so he pulls her away with soft hands, not wanting to dissuade her, just for her safety, but he secretly loves that his daughter clearly takes after him.

"Who's gonna be a cute little inventor, huh? Is May-May gonna take after her papa Peter Parker?" He jostles her around and she shrieks with laughter.

Eventually he'd set up a LEGO block corner for her so her hands can stay busy. And Mayday loves building things, so eventually Peter looks over to see just the top of her red hair, as she's mostly obscured by the giant LEGO wall she built.

And he's be so proud, the first thing he would do is show you when you get back home from work:

"Look at what May made!" He would hold her up and she'd grin really proud as they both motion towards the big wall she made in the corner of your bedroom.

"Aw, you wanna be an architect like Mommy?" Because of course you'd be an architect in this scenario, and it would be a hilarious, small-fake-beef between you and Peter. And Mayday, not really processing your sentence, nods, adding to your shit-eating grin.

"Uh, no, just wait until she gets into software. Mayday's gonna be a coder like her Papa." Peter fixes his glasses and side-eyes you. Mostly jokingly.

"Well, I don't see any tech embedded inside the LEGO wall." You coo at Mayday, who's reaching towards you from Peter's hands. "You want to build beautiful, artsy buildings in the heart of the city like Mommy, right?"

"Nuh-uh." Peter puts on a silly, girly voice mimicking Mayday, placing his face behind her as if his voice is really coming out of her. She bites her thumb, laughing. "I wanna be like Papa because coding actually does something."

"Hey!" You pull Mayday out of his hands, with a falsely offended gasp at his audacity to use Mayday in his propaganda. "Housing important things is something, you jerk."

"Yeah, but it's not an action executed by a program, is it?" Peter prods your shoulder. "Architecture is cool and all, but it just... is."

"Wow." You blink. "Why did I marry you?"

"Papa?" Mayday tilts her head at you and you burst out laughing, rubbing your face against hers.

"Yeah, May."

"Cool." She points to him, and you roll your eyes, as Peter takes this with some nerd-afflicted ego.

"Yup. Papa cool, May."

"You so told her to say that." You shake your head at him, and he shrugs, pulling the two of you into a hug.

Whatever Mayday does, you know you'll both be proud of her.

(NGL I could write this into a whole actual fic if we want it, instead of a blurb lol)

#rn im on the bear and fallout #but tasm peter is everything to me so #ask #anon #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #drabble #drabbles #blurb #x reader #tasm!peter fluff

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underoospeterparker · 1 year ago

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you said Peter Parker I’m HERE.

what about tasm Peter with reader who gets stressed out over something, maybe going slightly nonverbal. and whatever task reader is trying to do he’ll help doing it step by step, and explaining everything that happens quietly even if it’s obvious and asking lots of questions and giving options to make u feel more in control <3 and generally just being a perfect bf !!

he's so boyfriend coded i wanna scream!!!

peter parker x gn!reader

"(Y/N)?" You felt Peter's hand skim over your back, soothing strokes up and down that had you relaxing slightly in his arms. You leaned forward, however, you continued pressing violently at the keys on your laptop in a desperate attempt to finish your essay.

You squeezed your legs together on Peter's lap, pulling your computer closer to your chest. "Hey." His voice drew you back to the present, to his fingers scratching at your scalp. "Bub, you wanna take a break?"

When you shook your head, Peter frowned, and you felt guilty for being the one to put it there. Not guilty enough, though, because you continued to type on your document regardless of Peter's pleas.

"You've been working for ages," he commented, kneading gently at the fat of your stomach. He smiled when he felt you start to go lax in his arms, but it vanished when you immediately got up from his lap in search of another, less distracting location to finish off your essay.

"Honey," he called, then got up entirely to follow you. "Please, just ten minutes, alright? It's not good to be studying for too long. Is that okay?"

At this, you looked up at him from the sofa on which you had plopped yourself on. "I don't know," you whispered, and Peter cooed softly at your indecision.

"That's okay, sweetheart." He paused for a second. "Do you want a hug, maybe?" He murmured quietly, trying not to frighten you.

You nodded, and he was quick to wrap you up in his hold, arms stretching around your back, rubbing diligently when you buried your head into his chest. You stayed there for a while, and Peter let you, knowing you needed the hug especially now.

When you pulled away, he did too, but not before kissing your forehead and interlocking your hands with his. "Okay?" His whisper was soft.

Bobbing your head up and down, you motioned for him to sit next to you on the sofa.

"Do you need some help?"

You nodded, and Peter grinned, a smile that brightened his entire face and made you want to kiss it off. "You should've just asked, baby. You know I'll always help."

He took the laptop off your lap, putting it on his instead, so you rested your head on his shoulder while he looked over your work. He noticed you starting to drift off into sleep, your eyes shutting and then opening again.

Peter pressed another kiss to the side of your head. "Y' can rest your eyes for a little, honey. I'll wake you up in a bit. Just relax for now."

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 2 years ago

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Babbling ~ P.P.

A/n: Sorry for missing Monday, but here’s this <3 Another request done :)

Request: “Tasm!Peter x male reader where reader gets invited to a party and brings Peter as his plus one or whatever and Peter getting drunk and touchy and confesses and saying how he wants to be with him and spend the rest of his life with him...” by anon

Word count: 2700+

MASTERLIST

Peter Parker and Y/n had always been a story for the ages.

It hadn't been life long friends, and their meeting hadn't been all that important. They'd had a class together and as both of them engaged with the content and asked questions and did reports and read out loud, their faces became familiar with each other. Then Spider-Man had gotten caught up in a fight and his mask had come off. Y/n had been stunned to see the big brown doe eyes of the cute guy in his AP bio class.

It had been the most anti-climactic thing, truly. Y/n had discovered a sight dedicated to "fangirling over Spider-Man" except that they didn't do much discussion or giving of content. However, when Y/n went through the internet looking for pictures with Spider-Man's face, there was a startling very few available. For how many hungry reporters and shocked civilian or eager tourist was here and with how often Spider-Man lost or destroyed or just straight up took off his mask, there should be more.

When he found that there were images, they were just unavailable, he deep dove it and used his skill witch coding to figure out what happened. And what he uncovered was stunning - the website "dedicated to fangirling over Spiderman" was either a cover, or they believed that the best fans were dedicated to keeping Spider-Man's secret identity a secret. Peter Parker was New York's little secret.

It made Y/n so curious to meet the man. So of course they had to.

Asking for notes or a pencil or complimenting a sweater or giggling at his jokes that he said under his breath turned into lunches together for convenience and then studying together and then suddenly they were friends. Exchanging phone numbers and inside jokes and nicknames.

It was obvious that he was Spider-Man if you knew what you were looking for. His poor excuses and his sudden exists and late entries. Cancelled plans right when Spider-Man was needed, and all for a job that didn't even pay that well.

Peter was fairly good at hiding it. He was a disaster - a mistake waiting to happen - but he had a whole city behind him so it was okay.

It made Y/n fall in love with Spider-Man even more.

And maybe Peter Parker too.

There was something about the boy though. Something darker that he shook off when he had the mask. Something heavy that was easy to miss when you couldn't see his facial expressions. There was a distance when Y/n would jokingly flirt or be physically affectionate. He offered to take Peter to meet his folks once and Peter had seemed... to not like that. He had squirmed and wriggled, desperate to get away. When he came up with an "emergency" and Spider-Man stopped a mugger and got a kite out of tree Y/n knew that he shouldn't bring it up again.

It was obvious that Peter had lost someone, so Y/n tucked away any realizations or feelings and let them stay casual friends. Not best friends, not truly close - always at an arm's length. But friends.

Until, of course, Peter got drunk.

Peter never wanted to go anywhere or do anything. Y/n was pretty sure he was depressed. Which had driven him to try and get Peter out more, to find him hobbies and past times. Peter had come to the parties and gatherings and slam poetries and walks and clubs Y/n had dragged him to, just like tonight, with the understanding that if he needed to leave he could at any moment.

It didn't seem that moment would come tonight.

At some point Peter had put down his phone and walked away after having a few drinks, getting looser and more relaxed. He never went far from Y/n but seemed to have a hard time sitting still or staying in the same place. They paced or walked in circles and that seemed to do the trick. Y/n had noticed the other man put down his phone after checking the time and walked away again, so Y/n had snagged it for safe keeping. He would give it back tomorrow morning.

It took a lot or drinks for Peter to get proper wasted, but it happened. It seemed to be absent minded and on accident. He kept talking and walking, keeping his voice above the music in the room, and Y/n found himself trailing after in a love sick haze. Peter was gorgeous on his own, but the way his face light up and his hair got messier and messier... he was breathtaking when he went on rants, and Y/n was more than pleased to listen.

So he didn't stop Peter from drinking. And to be fair, neither did Peter.

Y/n knew they'd both made a mistake when Peter stopped walking, leaning against a table behind him and sighing. Y/n came closer to check on him and Peter reached out, fingers wrapping around Y/n's waist and face pressing into his shoulder. Y/n's body blossomed with heat and something akin to a buzzing, making him tense but giddy.

He tried to ignore that.

Peter sighed, leaning against Y/n, and the more sober of them gave a little chuckle. "You okay, Pete?"

"You're so comfy," was all Peter had to say. His voice was soft and airy, almost sleepy. But he had no problem mostly keeping himself up, nor did he seem to sway or buckle. He was just... drawn to Y/n. Like a magnet.

Y/n blushed. "Thank you."

Peter stared, for a long time, not saying anything. Y/n got nervous, shifting. The look was full of adoration and warmth. Admiration simmered at the edges, a sappy smile smearing across his face. "Did I ever mention that you look really attractive when you get all..." he tilted his head, searching for a word. "Blushy." He giggled. "Shy? No. Not just shy, but reserved too. Nervous." His face flitted briefly into a scowl, but when he went from trying yo grasp the word in his mind to admiring Y/n again, the smile came back. "I'm glad we met."

Y/n couldn't get the courage to look at him. "So am I." He cleared his throat, melting under that gaze. Under those words. "Perhaps we should get home."

Peter nodded. "I don't want to be here anymore. Let's go somewhere - just us." He took Y/n's hands, taking longer to do so as he traced Y/n's fingers and sighed blissfully at the contact. Like he was relieved after so long wanting it. Like how Y/n did when he felt the touch.

"Yeah. If that's what you really want." Y/n closed his eyes, chastising himself and forcing himself to stay focused. "Tomorrow. Tonight you need sleep." He began walking, keeping an eye on if Peter needed help walking, but he didn't. Not surprising for the same Spider-Man that could balance on a string that seemed thin as hair, or cling to any surface.

Peter whined and Y/n had to hide a smile with his free hand. "Not tomorrow," he begged, tugging on Y/n's hand. It was almost like a child begging for candy in the store, but less dramatic and much mote desperate. The thought of leaving Y/n seemed to genuinely upset him... Y/n didn't know how to feel about that. "I'll go to bed if you spend the night."

Now that was dangerous.

Y/n only hummed in thought, actually considered it. Drunk people were hard to handle and even if he didn't, he would need to lie to Peter to get him home. If the superhero genuinely didn't want to go or decided that messing around with Y/n to prolong their time together it would he near impossible to get ahold of him again...

They got all the way to Peter's door before he spoke again. "Are you staying?"

Y/n gave him a sideways look as he pushed the door open, having snagged Peter's keys from his pocket. He'd thought he's gotten away with it after such a long silence, but it seemed Peter was eternally patient even drunk. He sighed as they moved into the apartment, Peter always snatching Y/n's hand the second they were free. "Why does it matter so much to you that I stay, hm?" He pulled himself away from the drunk man again, closing the door and putting the keys away. Pulling Peter's jacket off and removing his shoes and grabbing a glass of water and Ibuprofen for tomorrow morning, setting it on the table at Peter's bed. It was only when he seemed finished, about to head out again, that Peter caught him.

Holding one of Y/n's hands in each of his, looking deep into his eyes, Peter didn't just seem genuine, he seemed raw. Exposed. "Y/n. I've been punishing myself for so long... always alone. For so long." He closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. "It's suffocating me, the loneliness. And you make it easier to breathe. So... stay. If you want." He swallowed before adding a breathless, "Please."

Y/n's heart was ramming in his chest. "If you need a friend tonight, I can of course stay." He added friend on purpose this time - to remind himself.

That seemed to upset Peter though. "Don't call yourself that. Please, please don't-" he closed his eyes tightly. "I know we're friends. And I'm goad we're friends. But don't remind me we're friends when I want to kiss you so badly. Please."

Y/n's breath caught. "Pete-" He stopped himself. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Drunk words are sober thoughts. That's a popular saying for a reason."

Oh god.

"You- I-" Y/n's face was burning and he was running out of reasons to go. Ways to deny it. Peter was Spider-Man. There's so much Y/n still wasn't supposed to know. They'd been friends for a while now, and they were just getting close. There was still that gap though. That space that Peter kept.

Now he was throwing all of it away.

Peter didn't wait for Y/n to form thoughts. He let go of Y/n's hands, reaching up for his face instead. Peter's face trailed Y/n's jaw. "Can I kiss you? I... I've wanted to kiss you for so long. If you felt the same way. The way your heart is racing, I thought you might."

Y/n's eyes widen. Of course he can hear heartbeats. The world wouldn't be as unfair as it was if he couldn't.

But also, how could be lie now? When Peter knew he was? And maybe it was selfish, and he'd get his heart broken in the morning, but Peter was begging and god if Y/n wasn't just as eager.

"Okay."

There was no hesitation after that. Y/n had expected raging fire, or fireworks, but there was none of that. It was relief, cool to the touch like a breeze on a sweltering day, or a breath after drowning. It was laying in bed after a long, exhausting day or drinking something warm and sitting by the fire after a day of ice and snow.

Y/n did more than just stay over. It happened so fast, each kiss getting more and more desperate until their hands were wandering and they were falling back onto the bed and Peter didn't stutter a single second. He didn't stumble or hesitate. He had seemed to drink so much but all his words came easily, any slur he'd had before completely gone. He seemed sober.

Y/n was an idiot.

He tried to leave, but Peter had gripped onto his arm and begged him to stay. So Y/n woke up next to him in the morning, slipping out of bed and wandering into the living room.

Okay so that had just happened.

He felt like a villain. He felt like a moron. Peter had been drunk. FUCK he was a horrible person.

Out of part guilt and part anxiety, Y/n tidied the living room and kitchen before beginning to make breakfast. He couldn't in good will just leave Peter alone that morning, but he also couldn't stay in that bed. See Peter panic when he woke up and realized what had happened.

Would he panic? Would he be angry?

He would be justified to feel angry.

Y/n jumped when a set of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, a face burying into his shoulder. "Smells good," came Peter's muffled voice.

Y/n wordlessly finished the food, plating it and turning off the stove before turning to Peter. The brunette seemed weirdly unphased, taking each thing and making two plates, then wandering into the living room to set them down on the clean table, plopping onto the couch. He smiled. "And you clean? I'm spoiled."

Y/n crossed his arms over his chest, a little confused and a little annoyed. "Peter. We need to talk about last night."

The smile faded off of his face and it happened so easily that Y/n was stunned to realize it had been more fake than he'd realized. "I'm sorry."

That came as a shock too. "You're sorry? You? Peter, I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at that, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "I'm the one who was pushing you into-" He looked away. "You obviously regret it, and it was stupid, and I'm sorry I just-"

Y/n scoffed. "Peter, you were drunk. You were more honest than you usually are. That isn't a bad thing. But you were drunk, and I wasn't, and I completely took advantage of you and-"

Peter tilted his head. "I wasn't drunk."

Y/n froze. "What?"

Peter blushed. "Well- I was drunk at first." He looked away, fiddling with a couch pillow. "But by the time we got here I was pretty much sober. I have some what of a healing factor, so-"

Y/n's eyes widened. "You have a what?"

Peter looked back, his expression dripping with amusement. "Y/n, I'm not good at keeping secrets, and you're not good at it either. My mask is hanging up on the hook by the door and you hung up my keys next to it and didn't even blink."

Y/n's head whipped around and - sure enough - there was the mask.

Damnit.

He looked back sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... just..."

Peter laughed, standing from the couch. "It's okay. I... appreciate it, honestly. Most people demand explanations or details or ask an overwhelming questions. When I realize you knew?" He shook his head. "How long have you known?"

Y/n pursed his lip, shrugging. A... while."

Peter snorted. "Since the beginning then."

Y/n winced. "Not the very beginning."

Peter laughed again, this time closing the distance between them. "I don't know what you were beating yourself up for but I hope you realize that you don't have to. I was drunk, and that made me much more affectionate than I usually am... but, it was the affection itself that drove me insane. It was likeI'd been starving." He shrugged. "I probably was. But kissing you..." He smiled sweetly.

Y/n blushed. It was quiet for a moment before he asked, “So you’re glad last night happened?”

Peter grinned. “Yes. I am.” He shuffled, as if he wanted to ask something but felt too silly to do so.

“I’m glad it happened too,” Y/n eased. Peter melted in relief, his expression blooming with adoration - so close to the way he had looked at Y/n last night. Y/n took his hand, tracing the bones and veins. “Do you… want to be my boyfriend?” He cringed - it felt so silly to ask. Like he was in middle school all over again.

A chuckle came from Peter, but his answer didn’t follow in the form of words. Instead he reached over, catching Y/n’s chin and leaning into a kiss. They sighed blissfully at the same time, and Y/n divided that was answer enough.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#Peter Parker #peter 3 x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman x male reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing Spider-Man imagine #the amazing Spider-Man x reader #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman x male reader #Spiderman imagine #male reader #marvel

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callme-secret · 3 months ago

Text

And They Where Neighbors

TASM Peter Parker x Oc

Plot - peter parker sucks as an upstairs neighbor.

not my best work, but i want to get back into writing so sometimes you just gotta put stuff out. Please leave any helpful comments!

×××××

Suspiciously cheap rent is always suspicious for a reason. Brie knew this. Everyone in New York did, it went without saying. Cheap rent meant rats, or mold, or a creepy landlord that talked a lot. Cheap meant no one else wanted to live there.

So when Brie found a one bedroom apartment in her budget, walking distance from her school, and with working ac, she knew to be cautious. It even claimed to allow pets. (Normally code for the place came with its own pets already.) She couldn’t imagine what they were trying to sugar code. It must have a bed bug infestation, or it was haunted by a poltergeist. Maybe it was all some elaborate way to kidnap her and sell her into sex trafficking. There had to be a catch.

Brie knew of a million things that cheap meant in New York, but she was desperate. So when she went to tour, she wore a face mask in case the walls did in fact contain the next bubonic plague, and her thickest boots, in case she had to stomp her way past whatever vermin lived there too.

But there was no vermin, or mold. It was actually quite nice?

The landlady, Mrs. Zhang was kind and in her mid forties. She explained that her and her husband owned quite a few buildings, but this was their first one so they felt quite attached to it. They themselves had once lived here when they first moved to New York, and had spent nearly all of their young adulthood living here.

They took good care of the place, made sure to keep up with renovations, and all of the other upkeep. It really did show too. The building looked warm even from the outside. Red brick walls, black rimmed windows, and a navy blue front door, all screamed home. Even the entrance was clean. A tan hallway with a well organized mailroom and a black staircase. There wasn't even a missing floor board.

The apartment itself was even better. Sure the kitchen was small, and the appliances a decade old, but there was a big window in the bedroom with a fire escape right beside it, and enough space to fit her desk. There was nothing growing in the pipes, no sign of rodents or bugs. It was perfect.

“Why is it so cheap?” Way to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mrs. Zhang pursed her lips. “To be honest with you, we can't seem to keep a tenant for longer than three months and we don’t know why.”

Okay, first red flag. Apparently three tenets had come and gone in the span of the last year, all without reason and with quick getaways. The weird thing was, this problem only seemed to happen to the one apartment, everyone else in the building had been living there for years now with no incident.

So, Brie reasoned what was life without risk? If no one else had issues maybe it was all some big coincidence. She and her cat moved in the next week.

And for a while Brie wondered why no one could last longer than three months. As far as she could tell there was no better place to live. Her neighbors were nice, one had even brought her cookies after she moved in. (an older woman named Tony, who smelled like pickled sugar.) She only had to contact Mrs. Zhang once about a flickering light in the hallway and it was fixed within the week, and nothing could beat her commute. What once was a twenty minute subway ride, and a bus ticket, was now a ten minute walk. Brie was actually showing up early to her classes, just to prove she could.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with this apartment. Brie thought she might have actually been in love with the place from how perfect it was. Then the other shoe dropped.

It started small at first, or maybe she just started to notice it slowly. Her upstairs neighbor was a night owl. Not that big of a deal, except for the fact that y/n could hear him at 3 a.m. seemingly breaking into his own apartment. Every night like clock work, he would scale the fire escape like it was his own personal entrance, and struggle with his window. The wood swelled with the summer heat and Brie knew from personal experience it made it nearly impossible to open any window. Yet, her upstairs neighbor forced it open, everytime, before he fell face first into his apartment with the loudest thud possible. Waking her up. Every time.

Even when he was successfully inside, her upstairs neighbor had no idea what keeping it down was. All night he would stay up, eventually she put together he must have been an engineer of some kind. The vents carried broken conversation, mainly curses, but Brie could put together the few words she had. He complained a lot about things not working, and said a lot of math equations that sounded like gibberish in her ears. Either way, his voice filled her apartment, even at the crack of dawn.

There was also the annoying fact that everyone in the building seemed to love him. (Of course they did, they didn’t have to live below him.) Tony raved about the boy upstairs who always helped bring up her groceries. Mrs. Zhang always mentioned how if her husband couldn't make it out, Peter, as everyone referred to him as, never minded helping her fix squeaking door hinges or leaking pipes. Even Mr. Harbinbridge, the grumpy old man that lived on the first floor, liked him! One time he mistook Brie for this Peter. It was the only time she ever saw him smile.

Fine, Peter couldn’t be that bad, just noisy. Brie could live with that. She’s had worse neighbors, even roommates. Then her cat got stuck in the window.

Sir Issac Mewton had never been a skinny boy. Even when Brie first adopted him, the orange tabby cat weighed nearly fifteen pounds. Still, he wasn't fat, he just carried a lot of muscle. At least, that was the mantra Brie repeated in her head.

The mantra died however, when she first saw the ball of wiggling orange fur. Brie had memorized the exact amount of space to leave her window open in order for Mewton to slip through. He liked to explore, and who was she to take that away from him. She wished she took it away from him as she watched him howl from between the window sill.

So maybe she had notice Mewton putting on some extra pounds, but this was excessive. Brie knew it wasn't from her, he had been explicitly banned from anything that wasn’t his veterinarian approved diet cat food. As far as she knew, that's all he ate.

The investigation lasted less than a minute, before Brie peaked her head out of the window, now lined with orange fur, and spotted what looked to be a bowl on her upstairs neighbors stoop.

This was the last straw. This so-called Peter could be loud at ungodly hours, he could even be annoyingly loved by all, but he could not make her cat fat. This is where she drew the line.

So at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, in her hello kitty pjs, and her untied yellow converse Brie found herself in front of his door. Mewton clutched between her hands as if the feline could do something to protect her from the clearly bad idea forming in her head. Most of the heat she had felt downstairs had smoldered on her walk up. Mainly the idea of how silly she was being.

Brie lived with mewton and knew from experience how persistent the cat could be to get some extra kibble, no doubt he had conned poor upstairs peter into thinking he was a starving stray. The whole complex always raved about how kind of a person he was, he was probably just trying to help. A kind person just doing his best.

Yes, she was being silly. She’ll go back downstairs and try to catch him in the morning. Explain that Mewton was not starving and actually is on a weight loss journey. Brie was sure Peter would understand.

And then, Sir Issac Mewton, the traitor he was, meowed. Loudly.

The shuffling of feet behind the door made Brie freeze. This looked bad, didn’t it? She was in her pjs for god's sake, how the hell is she gonna explain this one?

Peter opened the door rather quickly, for how late it was. For a beat the pair just looked at each other. Brie thought to herself a few things. One, well at least he was also wearing pjs, though she did not peg him for a pokemon man. Two, of course he was cute. The boy had to be at least 6 '2, with fluffy brown hair, and brown eyes hidden behind cute, in a dorky short of way, glasses. He smiled. Y/n forgot the other things she was thinking about.

“You found my cat!”

She’s going to kill him actually.

“Your cat?” She echoed back, her voice sounding flat in her own ears.

Peter smiled rather sheepishly. “Well I suppose he’s not my cat, I just feed him from time to time,” he reached out to scratch Mewton’s chin. “Poor thing always comes crying, like he hasn’t eaten in days.”

Mewton, still being the traitor he is, started to wiggle in her arms like she hadn’t fed and raised him for nearly five years. If Brie was thinking level headily, she probably would have just blamed her stupid chubby cat. It was him that was manipulating everyone in this corridor right now, but she was not thinking level headily. Months of letting things go had pushed her to a point of no return.

She smacked his hand away from her cat, and glared straight into his stupid brown eyes. “Sir Mewton is not starving. He eats twice a day, with very expensive diet cat food I can only get from the vet’s in midtown, so if you would please stop feeding him!” she should stop there. “And for god sake, do you know people live below you? Have you ever thought once why they can't keep a tenant down stairs? It’s you! And the routinely 3 a.m. fight with your window, or how about the fact that you can’t use a front door? The fire escape is not your own personal entrance Peter! Do you ever think outside of yourself? Christ!”

That was too far, Brie regretted it the second she said it. Especially when the poor boy just looked so confused. But she was a coward, a very angry coward, that turned on her heel and quickly bolted to the staircase. Not without a “He’s not your cat!” shouted over her shoulder.

Mewton meowed rather pathetically in her arms.

Peter Parker stood, rather dumb folded, and admittedly rather confused in his doorway. The smallest "sorry" leaving his lips before he could even fully process her steps receding down the stairs.

#tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x oc

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