Warnings: baby, fluff, newborn phase, banter, new dad Peter, Peter has a beard.
Word Count: Under 1k
A/N: a quick one from me before bed prompted by pictures of AG in the Magic Far Away Tree on my feed. I have no idea fully what this is but hope it does something for at least someone and I’m always a sucker for a little Dad Peter fic.
“What is that?” You asked him when he walked into the room with a glass of water and handed it over to you in exchange for the newborn you’d just finished feeding in your arms.
“Its water. You need to stay hydrated-“
“No, I mean, what is that on your face?”
You know you’ve been out of it for a few days, having a whole tiny human come out of your tiny hoo ha will do that to you, but how had you not noticed the increased amount of hair forming on his jaw.
He looked over to the mirror then back to you. “What this?” He said, shifting the baby into one arm so he could point at his chin. You simply raised your eyebrows and nodded in response. “This,” he said with a grin, “is my dad beard.”
“Your dad beard?” you pressed a faint tickle creeping into the corner of your mouth.
“Yes, my dad beard,” he said proudly. “Most dad’s get dad bods,” he said, as he began to gently jiggle and soothe the baby into his arms. “I can’t get one of those with you know the whole spider metabolism thing, but what I can do,” he said, now directing his words and attention to the quietly fussing baby, “is grow out a very manly dad beard.”
“Very manly?” You said in a deadpan and mocking manner, your eyebrows raising again as you watched him fondly rock the child in his arms, a complete natural in his new role.
“What? You don’t like it? Well tough, it’s part of my identity now.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” he pressed, his tone equally as lighthearted and teasing as your own.
You smiled. “Come here,” you encouraged him, wanting him and your daughter to come settle on the bed beside you so you could soak up the short moment of silent bliss.
With him closer, you could observe his new facial hair a little closer. “I like it,” you finally said to him. “But if you’re keeping it, you better be prepared to take care of it.”
“You talking about my beard or her?” he joked again and this time you really did crack a big toothy smile.
“Uhhh you’re so corny,” you faked protest, your nose wrinkling.
“Yeah, but that’s why you love me,” he said, leaning over to give you a slightly more scratchier than usual kiss on the head.
“Now that I’ll have to get used to,” you said.
“You better, because I think it’s here to stay. Now shut your eyes and try and get some more rest, I’ll bring her back to you in a little bit when she needs her next feed.”
“Thanks Pete,” you said fondly, carefully shuffling yourself back down under the sheets for a nap.
“I love you,” he said, gently shifting back off the bed. He made it all the way to the door when he paused to look back at you one last time. “You know she’s beautiful,” he beamed looking between you and the baby. “You made an absolutely beautiful baby Mrs Parker.”
“Yeah, yeah Dad beard,” you joked, unable to take the emotional mushy moment right now for fear of your hormones would push you into floods of tears, “now go, let me sleep.” You said, snuggling down into a moment of bliss, allowing you forget the lingering aches in your body for just a little bit in favour for your new wonderful little family.
Summary: it’s easy to get caught up in life sometimes. The small stuff feels big and overwhelming. Sometimes we just need to take a moment and get some perspective.
Word Count: 1.1k+
Warnings: just a little existential crisis shit
A/N: I have definitely not had a very thoughtful and philosophical 24 hours 😂 I wrote this in hopes that it helps at least one person out there who may be struggling at the moment. Society can suck some times, but it’s not the world. As Hannah Montana once said ‘life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock!’
“Uh ma’am. Hey ma’am? Are you okay?” His voice came from behind you as you stood at the edge of the rooftop looking down at the street below. It still wasn’t high enough, you thought to yourself.
“You’re not going to jump are you? You know if you do I’m obligated to save your life and catch-“
“Would you just shut up a minute,” you turned your head and snapped at him. “I’m trying to think,” you said turning back to look down at the street, then up and out to the surrounding buildings. “I need to be higher,” you muttered to yourself.
“Trust me ma’am, if you are trying to do damage, this is plenty high enough.”
“I don’t want to jump, idiot. By the way Peter,” you said turning back to him, “you can take the mask off we both know it’s you.”
“Uhhh, what?” he said, clearing his throat, trying to make his voice deeper and hide his anonymity. “Peter? Who’s Peter? Nope, no Peter here.”
“Shut up,” you said finally abandoning your ledge and walking back to him. “I need to be higher,” you muttered again.
You came to a stop directly in front of him, looking up at him expectantly until he finally pulled the mask off his head.
“How did you know it was me?” He asked.
“Peter, I have been in the same class as since we were in kindergarten. You think I don’t know what your voice sounds like or recognise how your body looks in skin tight Lycra.”
“It’s not Lycra,” he protested.
“I don’t care. Look I need a higher building, you gonna help me or not?”
“Tell me why first?” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
“I need-“ You hesitated as you thought through the best way to explain what you needed. You pursed your lips, twitching them to one side. You sighed deeply. “I need a better perspective... Look, I’m in crisis okay! That I’ll admit- but I don’t want to jump. I just want perspective. A better look at the world- from a distance,” you stated. “I need to remember there’s more to life than… just this. I’m too close. Everything is too close. I see the same people everyday. I ride the subway with strangers who ignore each other. I can go days stuck behind a desk in a cubical with four sides and not see the sun. Not seeing friends or family. I just need to remember how small and insignificant we all are. That it’s okay to live a life that is small and insignificant. That even the people who make it get forgotten eventually because the world is so big and that today, right here and right now it’s okay to just be nothing. That existing can be enough.”
He looked at you stunned, his brain working overtime to process everything you just said.
Eventually he put his mask back on and held out his hand to you. “Come with me.”
The next thing you knew, he’d swept you up into his arms and was swinging you through the city. You watched as cars rolled on down the street. People walked on the sidewalks. Sirens blared, engines rumbled. People chatted or shouted. There was even one guy singing. Then he was taking you up.
He landed on top of the Empire State Building like a cat jumping off a tall fence to the ground, with a silent yet powerful thud. It was like someone had turned off the world. Well almost. There was still the faint hub bub of the city below, but it was muffled and quiet beneath the breeze.
“Wow,” you said, as you took in the view. “You know I’ve lived here my whole life and never once have I been up here.”
“It’s pretty spectacular,” he agreed. “You know sometimes I like to just come up here and think. To take a break. Pretend that the world is a peaceful place. That there weren’t any criminals or dirtbags and I could have a normal life.”
“I mean, you still could,” you said to him.
“No I couldn’t,” he replied. “When you have these powers, like I have, you have to do something with them. You have to do something good. You can’t just work in an office day in and day out and pretend they don’t exist.”
He pulled his mask off and took a perch on the metal walkway and you did the same. At this height, the buildings didn’t look that big at all. You could see how far the water stretched around the city. Cars looked like tiny ants on roads that looked no bigger than the gaps between the tiles in your bathroom. It made you laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” you said between giggles, “it’s just- we’re all so tiny. How do we do anything when we are that tiny? And yet look at all these buildings. Look at all these bridges. People made those. People- humans who lived and died before we were born built those. There are trees in the park who are even older than some of the buildings.”
“And one day the ice caps will melt so much the Hudson will flood the streets and bury it all and send it back to nothing.” Peter mused.
You looked at him with a furrowed brow.
“What? I’m a man of science. It’s just a fact. The earth moves and changes. You know, once upon a time everything was connected as one big land mass and now look at it.”
Slowly you smiled. “Change is inevitable,” you summarised, looking back out at the view.
“Change is the only constant,” he agreed.
“I need a change,” you said, turning your gaze back to him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you sighed.
“What you gonna do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe travel? Try out some different things in different places.”
“That sounds like fun,” he stated.
“Yeah,” you once again sighed and agreed.
“I remember when we were kids you used to always talk about Paris. We watched that film with the talking rat in class you became obsessed.”
“Ratatouille,” you said fondly.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Maybe you could go to Paris. Be a waitress. Learn the language. See the sights.”
“Then what after that?” You asked.
“London,” he stated with a nod of his head like it was a solid plan and a matter of fact.
“And what would I do there?”
He was quiet for a moment as he thought. He caught the glimpse of a yellow taxi crossing the Brooklyn bridge in the distance and laughed. “Drive one of those black cabs,” he said proudly.
You laughed too. “I think you have to pass a test for that.”
“Fine, work in one of those souvenir shops with the tiny red phone boxes and bobble heads of the queen.”
You both continued to laugh at that.
When the laughter finally petered out, you turned your head towards him again, your hand reaching out for his. “Thank you for this. I really needed it.”
“No problem,” he replied, his gloved fingers giving yours a small squeeze. “We all need a little perspective from time to time.”
Kinktober 5/???→ bondage with Peter Parker (Andrew!Peter)
With Peter being older, he had more experience with his power. So when his girlfriend asked him to tie her up in bed, he thought she meant his some ropes or something, but when he followed her eyes, she was staring at his wrists. He laughed and asked if she was serious, she just raised an eyebrow and nodded. It both excited and stressed him at the same time, the thought had been in his mind once or twice, but he didn’t do anything about it, fearing Y/N wasn’t in this mood.
They waited the evening to do it, both of them felt the excitement going up the more time passed. Peter’s spidey senses were buzzing, even more when he saw his girlfriend waiting for him on the bed in nothing but a deep red lingerie set. He didn’t waste any time and undressed himself in hurry, tripping over his feet only one time which made Y/N chuckled at his impatience. He got back up and glared slightly at her, while she laughed she didn’t see the web coming toward her wrists. Her laugh stopped instantly, she tried to move her wrists but they were stuck on the headboard, with her eyes on the web tying her there, she didn’t see Peter crawling on the bed until she felt his mouth on her breasts. The feeling of his lips closing around her nipple and sucking it was enough for her back to arch of the bed. She tried to close her legs around Peter’s waist but she guess he didn’t like that because the next minutes both her legs were also stuck to the bed, she felt completely at his mercy and she liked it.
While Peter continued his assault on her breasts, his hand went south directly on her clit, his fingers doing small and slow circles making Y/N moaned and arched again. She begged him to do more and to fuck her but he just kept going, switching to her left nipple. Both of the actions continued made her cum for the first time of the night, Peter’s lips left her breasts grinning at her, he bought his fingers to his mouth, sucking the juices she left and moaning at the taste. Then he kissed her to share some of it with her, both of their tongues caressing each others lazily.
“_So baby, can we continue or you’re tired?
_You better continue or I’ll take care of it myself Peter.
_I’d like to see how because I don’t see your pretty body moving anytime soon, you’re mine and at my mercy for the night beautiful. You’ll have to beg me to stop.”
Peter didn’t wait for an answer, just entered her hardly and set a strong and rapid pace, the bed shaking with his movements. He put his head on her neck and sucked bruises all over it, her hands flexed trying to put her fingers in his hair to no avail. Her body squirming while pleasure ran through her, Peter didn’t slow down with his hips hitting her thighs repeatedly. She could feel her second orgasm coming and Peter felt it too. Her walls tightened around his cock, her limbs flexed and tensed, Peter was nearly blocked by her tightness but continued to rock his hips. The feeling of her juices coating his thighs made Peter filled her up. His body resting on her, he tried to turn them around so she was on him but remembered the webs blocking her. He lifted his heads with wide eyes, looking at his tired girlfriend lightly scared.
“_Love? We might have a little problem….
_Mmmh what are you talking about babe?
_Well I-i might not have anything to dissolve the webs…
_wha-I’M SORRY WHAT?
_No- wait I’ll find something baby! I promise I’ll figure this out!”
Peter scrambled out the bed, tripping because of the clothes on the floor but rushing to the kitchen, trying to find something to free his angry girl.
found secrets n first kisses - p.parker x fem!reader
posted sept 28th, 2025 1:05am
it's been almost two years since i posted winter formal and two years since i posted starstruck. Thank you to everyone who continued to praise and ask for part three, i love u.
the long awaited part three, and ending for our starstruck trilogy <3 use of Y/n, not proofread.
requests r open
starstruck pt 1
winter formal pt2
masterlist
wc: 1.2
they were weaker that time, uh oh.
You hurried out of bed, towards the window, and nearly tore the curtains off as you opened the window.
“Y/n” Spider-man was out of breath, his voice laced with pain as he fell into your room.
But this time it was for real.
“Whatdoyouneed, whatd’I do?” Your words were almost slurring together with how fast the words came out, kneeling to blindly search for any slashes or blood soaked through his suit but before you could look hard enough Spidey gripped your hand.
Your gaze met his masked face, scanning it a million times with worried eyes. “a couple of bruised ribs, a broken web-slinger, and sprained everything. There’s nothin’ you could do” You opened your mouth to argue with the out-of-breath Spider as his words came out barely audible,
But before you could respond
”just need you, sweetheart”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, sweetheart, that's Peter’s thing, Spidey’s thing is pretty lady why would he call you sweetheart?
Your mind was racing a hundred miles per minute as he squeezed your hand slightly, you squeezed back and nodded at him.
He needs you, this isn’t about you.
“I’m here, honey” You whispered,
“You’re here” He whispered back, repeating your reassuring words as if you’d fade away.
“I could get you something to eat. We got pizza or I have water?” it all came out as more of a question as he nodded, “Yeah, please that sounds fantastic, actually” Spidey finally let go of your hand as you stood up, turning on the lamp in the corner of your room so it wasn’t so dark on your way out to the kitchen. Unsure about whether he meant the pizza or the water, you grabbed both, not bothering to warm it up as you carefully carried the nearly empty box into your room with the water bottle tucked into your arm.
“Okay, I got a cold water and a slice of pizza because I wasn’t sure which one you wanted” Spidey couldn’t help but chuckle as you set the two things down on the floor and opened the box.
“I wanted both, you did great, always do” his voice was still croaky and quiet in a way that meant he was in pain but you could hear him smiling under the mask as he took off one of his dirty gloves and went to move his mask up just enough to eat.
This was normal for you two, sure it hadn’t happened in a while but you always saw the lower half of his face. Only this time all you could think about was how those were the lips you had stared at all night or even just a few hours early, Peter’s lips.
His voice snapped out of it as you looked back at his masked eyes. “This is cold” Peter Spidey mumbled with a mouthful, and you laughed. “Yeah, you’re being all clingy and needy, I didn’t wanna hear you whine when I was gone for two minutes to heat it up.” You teased, earning another strained laugh in return. This was good, this was normal, you missed normal, but still, it was different, you couldn’t help the dots in your head desperately trying to connect even as you focused on your hurt friend, he needed you.
Peter or Spidey or both, debate be damned.
“It’s great, thank you” he nodded at you, smiling the best he could with the amount of pain he was in, another familiar feature. You just smiled back, leaning against your bed as you watched Spidey down his water bottle.
His voice was giving it away, connecting the last couple dots.
“How was your date?” He asked in a teasing tone, sighing as he tossed the now crushed bottle into your trash can, then wincing at the movement. You sighed, were you just supposed to pretend now?.
You decided on playing along a few more moments, maybe he hadn’t known you realized yet.
“It was great, I even thought he was gonna kiss me for a minute there” You smiled softly, looking at the floor as you thought back on it, the moment ruined by loud sirens and cop cars.
Of course.
“He didn’t though, moment got kinda scuffed up so, you know.” You shrugged despite your disappointment and Spider-Maybe, no definitely-Peter noticed. “I’m sorry, pretty lady. But this guy,” he shrugged, “he seems to really like you, I’m sure you’ll get your kiss, might’ve just been somethin’ that came up.” He spoke as if he was worried you’d been blaming yourself for the lack of a goodnight kiss.
You sighed, shaking your head. “Worse things are going on” Spidey chuckled at your words, nodding in agreement.
“Hey, what happened tonight?” You finally asked, in a quieter tone.
Peter sighed, attempting to sit up more. “Rhino was getting transferred to Ryker’s- he got out,” He huffed.
You watched silently as he struggled to get comfortable, eventually standing up and moving to help him.
“He got me pretty bad but I don't think there were any casualties- Hey, I got it, sweetheart.”
You held his hands to stop him from fighting your help, “Peter, stop,”
He stilled completely, not because of how soft your pretty voice sounded when pleading but because you called him Peter.
“Let me help you, c’mon we’re gonna break that no suit on my bed rule.” You said quietly, ignoring the way his head tilted.
Getting Peter settled on your mattress wouldn’t be so awkward if it wasn’t for the lingering needed conversation in the air.
“I forgot to do the voice thing, huh?” he asked quietly, “I was already suspecting something was up, Pete.”
He hung his head low, groaning almost obnoxiously. Carefully you reached and pulled his mask off, adjusting his hair after the fact, getting him to look up at you.
He had a bruised cheek and now without the shadow of his mask, the busted lip was much more prominent.
“So about that goodnight kiss,” Peter muttered, apologetic.
“So about you almost dying, tonight.” You almost laughed at how easily he overlooked his condition. “Fuck no goodnight kiss, I’m just glad you aren’t dead.”
“You seriously already knew?”
That time you did laugh, shaking your head at the way his tone was laced with such great amounts of disappointment. “I mean, not until like 10 minutes ago-” ”It’s already been ten minutes?” “I don’t know,” You giggled again, looking away when his lips quivered upward. “Least I know why my best friend was avoiding me-” “I’m your best friend?””Stop interrupting me-” Peter’s hand found your face, guiding you back to him. His brown eyes already searching your face over and over for approval, only desperate because of the silence.
“Are you trying to kiss me to shut me up?” “Just wanna kiss you, sweetheart”
His hand made it impossible for you to look away that time, so instead, you leaned in and kissed him soft enough to not hurt
But hopefully enough to satisfy his need.
And yours.
“So-” you continued, “I kinda thought of it but I never really realized it until-”
A hmph sound left you as his mouth crash back into yours, a chuckle coming from him at the noise as his hands found either side of your jaw.
“Baby” Kiss “Only time-” Kiss “I’ll ever ask-” kiss “For this but-” kiss.
Your laugh broke the string of kisses but only momentarily as he smiled against your lips.
summary: staying away from you was easier for peter when you hated him.
warnings: angst, violence, cursing, weapons, injuries, unrealistic events but it's fanfic so idgaf, peter being a literal stalker, peter being extremely stupid, very sad feels, f!reader, implied that reader has medium-long hair, unedited!
notes: i wrote the first half of this like almost three years ago tbh and decided to finish it all in one go tonight. so it's a little bit of a mess. oh well. this was also supposed to be like 10k+ words, which is why there's more world/storybuilding than usual. oops.
You still remembered the moment Peter broke your heart as if it were yesterday.
It was the only time in your relationship that he’d ever made you feel the way you did that day, worthless and manipulated.
“I don’t love you anymore.” Peter had said. “I don’t think I ever did.”
A straight up fucking lie. At least the part about not loving you at all. You knew that was a lie— it had to be a lie. Otherwise, Peter fucking Parker was an amazing actor.
But that was two months ago, the healing process difficult and still ongoing. It was hard to move on from a relationship that had been built on nearly half a decade of friendship. Peter was one of your closest friends in middle and high school until he decided he suddenly didn’t want to talk to you anymore.
“Have you talked to Peter lately?”
The question immediately threw you off, ripping your attention away from your homework like a bandaid. “What? Why would I do that?”
Your friends Mary Jane Watson and Gwen Stacy sat in front of you, books of their own laid in front of their spots.
“I don’t know,” MJ shrugged, sharing a glance with Gwen. “I heard him talking about you the other day in Bio.”
“Talking about me?” You rose your eyebrows. “I thought he was still pretending I didn’t exist.”
“He is,” Gwen said assertively, giving MJ a side eye.
You nodded as if the news pleased you, and in an odd way, it did. It made it easier for you to just hate him. “Good.”
Gwen gave you a sympathetic look, one you didn’t catch because you’d already ducked your head into your book. Truth is, Gwen Stacy knew you like the back of her hand. Having known you since kindergarten, your friendship was stronger than most. Rivaled only by the friendship that you used to have with Peter. Keywords: used to.
“So you’re still going to the open mic fundraiser tonight, right?” MJ changed the subject. Her tone was enthusiastic, bursting with excitement.
Right. The open mic fundraiser being hosted by the Midtown’s theatre department. It was at a small coffee shop a few blocks from the school, one you’d visited a few times when you desperately needed caffeine to wake you up before a long day of classes.
“Yeah,” you sighed, tapping your pencil against your temple lightly. You kept your gaze on your book, knowing that MJ’s face was likely decorated with a smile. “I’ll go, MJ.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” She squealed, clapping her hands together and looking at Gwen expectantly.
“Oh— I can’t. I have decathlon practice.”
“Boo-hoo,” MJ pouted before gathering her things and skipping away from the table. “I’ll see you tonight!”
You gave her a wave, even as she was halfway across the library at that point. Mary Jane was an impressively speedy person.
You looked back at Gwen. “What’s her deal?”
“It’s hard for her to be in the middle I guess,” Gwen shrugged.
You didn’t mind that MJ was still friends with Peter. In fact, you hoped your messy breakup wouldn’t destroy your friend group but Gwen had adamantly stayed by your side, going as far as to stop talking to Peter.
You didn’t like it, feeling bad that Peter lost one of his best friends because of you but it wasn’t like you broke up with him. It was the other way around and he had made you feel really shitty in the process.
Being the loyal friend she was, Gwen chose you without a second thought.
“I want nothing to do with him,” you sighed. “I just want her to understand that.”
“I’m sure she will… eventually.”
“It’s been two months, Gwen.”
Gwen gave you another sympathetic look. “I know.”
Determined to finish the last of your assignment, you looked back down at your book. Your mind quickly strayed from schoolwork, inevitably thinking about the events of your breakup.
“Peter,” you were pleasantly surprised as you greeted him at your front door. “I didn’t know you were coming over today. I thought you had a—”
“—the photography meeting. Yeah it got cancelled.”
“Oh,” you frowned, his tone throwing you off immediately. The visit was unexpected but being around Peter was like a drug. You couldn’t get enough of him so you welcomed him in without a second thought. Except he stayed planted at your front doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets and a heavy look on his face.
You hated that look— it made your heart sink immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Can we talk?” He asked, his eyes difficult to read. Something you’d never struggled with before.
“Of course.” You stepped outside, shutting the door behind you softly and following Peter to your outdoor loveseat.
“Uh— I don’t know how to say this,” Peter started, avoiding your gaze completely. His hands were shaking slightly and his posture was tense.
Your anxiety kept you rooted to the spot, concerned over his strange behavior. You were usually so open with each other so this was weird to say the least.
You kept silent, giving him the time he needed to formulate the words. His longer hair fell over his eyes, his head hanging in what looked like shame. “I can’t do this anymore.”
The words were mumbled, but you caught it.
“Um, okay… do what?” You asked hesitantly.
There wasn’t a lot of meanings behind that statement. You knew that well, but the notion seemed impossible. You and Peter worked so well together, heck you wouldn’t be surprised if your hearts danced to the same rhythm. You were so in tune with each other, the possibility that something wasn’t working out just seemed… unthinkable.
“I can’t be with you, Y/N.”
Heartbreak hit you like a fucking train. “What do you mean?” You cleared your throat.
“I’m breaking up with you,” Peter confirmed, refusing to meet your eye. His stony expression was cold, a look he had never directed toward you.
It took a minute but you finally found the words to respond. “I—I thought we were okay?”
Peter’s hard exterior almost broke apart just from seeing your expression. “We aren’t.”
“Why?” You shot back.
Peter shook his head at you incredulously. “We haven’t spoken in weeks. I thought that would’ve given you a hint.”
It indeed had been two weeks since you and Peter had had a solid conversation, at least outside of school discussions and occasional texts. You were just in denial about the whole thing, acting like everything was okay in front of your friends when clearly it was not. You thought if you ignored the distance, adamantly lied about its existence, that you would end up believing it.
“I’m just confused,” you put your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes as if the action would give you some clarity. “Did I do something?”
As far as you could remember, you had done absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to piss him off. Nothing to irritate him. What changed?
“We need to stay away from each other,” he ignored your question.
“Peter,” you snapped. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on? Because last time, I checked we were in a communicative, loving relationship—”
“You’re wrong.”
“What?”
Rain had started falling gently, a calm background noise to the chaos that was unfolding.
“I don’t love you anymore,” Peter said emotionlessly. “I don’t think I ever did.”
Shocked, you repeated his words over and over again in your brain so that they could make a sliver of sense. But they didn’t. This was incredibly out of character for your best friend— was he playing a joke on you? A sick, cruel joke but a joke nonetheless?
In the time it took you to process his words, Peter had gotten up, fully intending on leaving you on your own doorstep but you finally jumped into action.
“No,” you fumed. “Peter Parker, you can’t say that and just walk away. What the fuck is your problem?”
“Right now, my problem is you,” Peter spun around, tone equally aggressive. “The fact that you can’t just accept I don’t want you anymore. The fact that you’re making this harder than it has to be and the fact that you won’t just let me leave. It’s ridiculous.”
You hated how pathetic he was making you feel right now. But Peter was, above all else, your closest friend. There wasn’t anyone that completed your soul quite like he did. “So this just comes out of the blue? You realize that you never loved me and you suddenly want to destroy a friendship we’ve had for six years?”
“Sounds right,” Peter agreed.
Enraged, your jaw dropped. “Then I’m—I’m not stopping you.” Your anger blinded you to reason.
Peter stood under the pouring rain, water soaking his clothes as he stared back at you. It was tense, the air reeked of betrayal and fury. Agony was the only word you could find to describe the hole this was ripping in your heart.
It didn’t make any fucking sense. I mean— you’d talked to Aunt May a few days ago, funnily enough considering your own boyfriend was ignoring you and also happened to be conveniently out whenever you passed by the Parker residence. But May seemed fine, giving you her usual bright smile and enthusiastically asking about school and your family. Nothing to alert you that Peter was going through any trouble.
And you’d tried to get a direct answer from him for the past fourteen days, sending him texts whenever you failed at getting anything substantial from your conversations in class. But your calls were sent to voicemail and your texts left delivered.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You could only flare your nostrils in fury, tightening your grip on the doorknob behind you as you stared at Peter’s retreating figure.
A slight movement from Gwen snapped you out of the memory, a distraction you welcomed gladly.
The room was getting a bit too stuffy, despite the vast space between each table. “I’m gonna go,” you swiftly packed up your things, ignoring Gwen’s look of concern. “Your dad is still picking you up right?”
“Yeah…” Gwen said. “Are you okay?"
"Fine," you said stiffly, checking the time on your phone. You had just enough time to catch the train home, get ready, and then get back here in time for the fundraiser. You almost sighed at the thought. You didn't want to go-- not in the slightest.
The streets were as busy as usual, but you made your way to the station on time. You stood with your back pressed against the wall as you always did, your eyes scanning the crowd subtly. The entire time you stood on the train you felt the heavy weight of someone’s gaze, but kept your eyes planted forward. It was the New Yorker in you.
You hastily made your way home and made your way upstairs, ignoring the bitter silence throughout the brownstone. Your father had left a while ago, something about a business trip. It wasn’t unusual for you to be left alone, the last few months had proven to be full of unexpected changes. What had once been a semi-lively home, was now empty save for the occasional visit from someone your father hired to tidy up the house once a week.
After a long debate in front of the mirror, you opted for a tank top and jeans with a leather jacket thrown on top. You figured you should put your best foot forward for MJ’s event. You couldn’t mope forever.
The trip back to Midtown was fine, uneventful, and you made it just in time. What you had expected would be an evening full of disassociating ended up leaving you feeling lighter than you had in months. Thankfully, MJ had dropped the Peter subject completely and instead focused on getting everyone to hit the stage.
Hence your stellar duet rendition of ‘Start of Something New’ which brought the fucking house down in your honest opinion (there was more giggling than singing).
“Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming!” MJ squealed as you finally made your exit, squeezing you in her surprisingly strong grip. You smiled into the hug, glad that you came.
Finally.
Finally, you’d had one night that hadn’t been tainted by the hole your ex-boyfriend had left in your chest.
MJ gave you one more serious look, grasping your arms. “Are you sure you’ll be fine getting back—?”
“Yes,” you repeated with a teasing eye roll. “I’ll be fine. Dad sent a car.”
You’d gotten good at lying over these past few months too.
MJ accepted it with a smile and bounded off toward the stage again where the rest of the attendees were chatting and laughing. You lingered for a moment, eyeing the community between them.
With a sigh, you spun around and left the coffee shop, the air instantly clouding around your breaths. It was cold and oddly quiet, the streets more empty than usual.
Especially with the absence of the car you’d claimed would be waiting for you.
You shook your head as you began your walk back home. The train made it faster to get there, but you weren’t keen on lingering in subway stations alone at night.
Besides, the walk gave you time to silently seethe over the lie you’d just told MJ. Your dad couldn’t give less shits about you. Apparently, his business trips were much more important.
The topic of irresponsible workaholics made your thoughts stray to your friend Harry Osborn for a moment. You should text him, invite him over to bond over their shitty parents who think throwing money in their children’s faces made up for their poor parenting.
The route home was so familiar that you were walking on auto-pilot, your mind more distracted than usual.
A bright sign caught your eye.
Joe’s Pizza.
You scowled at the reminder of Peter, almost seeing the ghost of him standing just outside his favorite spot all smiles and laughter.
In a foolish effort to keep him as far away from your mind as possible, you pivoted down the nearest road to avoid passing by. He clearly wasn’t there (only a few tourists stood by waiting for their orders), but your annoying heart still clenched at the slightest reminder of him.
The road was darker and seemingly colder, but you hustled on, dragging your jacket closer to your body. Your gaze was sharper now and you scanned every dark corner and shadow.
Suddenly, a movement made your feet hesitate. Instinctively, you nearly stopped in the middle of the road, but instead you continued at a slower pace, trying to figure out what you’d seen.
You couldn’t see anyone and whatever shadow you’d seen had disappeared, but your heart still raced slightly. Suddenly, you were regretting this detour.
Your path strayed closer to the middle of the road to avoid feeling cornered and you quickened your pace, seeing the corner you intended to turn, your chest beginning to feel lighter from the familiarity of the intersection—
“Move and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”
Your heart froze as cold metal pressed against the crown of your head, tangling in your locks. Your feet skidded to a stop.
A million thoughts ran through your brain, but fear paralyzed you, your lungs frozen in mid-inhale. Your gut had been screaming at you, trying to fight its way over the reckless noise in your head—
“Good, that’s good. Now turn around,” the deep voice demanded and your panicked body hesitated to move. The gun dug deeper into your scalp. “Slowly.”
It felt like you were out of your own body, doing as he asked and turning to see a face obscured by a shitty ski mask. Was he planning on robbing you? You catalogued the items on you quickly, trying to remember if you were carrying enough cash to placate the guy.
Before you could make your plea, a calloused hand came up to your chin and grasped it roughly. A shocked gasp escaped your lips and you tried to hide your terror as the man dug his fingers in your skin. He tilted your face back and forth as if inspecting it.
Your mind was spiraling to the worst case scenario and you were trying to figure out whether you should speak— or if you even could. You always froze in a panic.
An amused chuckle slipped through the guy’s nose and he squeezed your chin mercilessly. Tears sprung to your eyes.
“Really easy to catch you, girl. You’d think our little superhero would be watching over his precious plaything better.”
You realized with a sickening lurch that this had nothing to do with a random robbery and all to do with your best friend— well, ex—
“You’re gonna tell me who’s behind the mask,” he traced the gun from the back of your head all the way to your left temple and dug it into the skin enough that you winced. “And then you’re gonna come with me, nice and easy.”
Your resolve suddenly steeled.
Because as much as you thought you now hated Peter Parker, he would always be the love of your life. Your best friend.
You’d rather die than reveal his secret.
“So tell me, who’s behind the mask, girl?” The man snarled. His nails bit into your skin.
Finally, you found enough courage to speak. It felt loud in this deserted alleyway. “You found me yet you don’t know who’s behind the mask—“
Your slightly mocking tone earned you an unforgiving whack across the temple, courtesy of the hard-as-fuck gun in his hand. Your vision blurred for a moment and you would’ve stumbled if his grip hadn’t tightened on your chin.
Despite your stupid bait, you did find yourself pondering your own words carefully. If they found you (whoever they were), they’d have to been tracking you for some time. How had they made the connection between you and Spider-Man without making the connection between you and Peter Parker?
Well, you and Peter hadn’t been spotted together in months so—
“Got a fucking smart mouth, huh?” He snarled. “You’re gonna tell me who Spider-Man is. Either way, you’re coming with me and he’ll reveal himself soon enough. The boss is eager to meet him.”
The boss?
“You’re wasting your time. He’s not gonna come,” you said between gritted teeth, anger and fear mixing in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of the situation gripped you.
He’s not gonna come. Peter Parker left you behind long ago. You’re going to die.
“Last chance, tell me.” His threat came with a menacing grip around your throat and you almost fought back before remembering the very serious threat of a bullet in your head.
His tactic was obviously meant to scare you into submission and you tried to relax in his hold with this in mind, but his fingers kept tightening and your airways were closing and —
Your hands instinctively came up to claw at his, throat burning and your vision blurring—
A quick movement caught your eye and you barely registered the gun flying away at least 50 feet in the air before the man’s other hand was gripped by a glob of web you barely saw as your eyes rolled back before his grip was ripped away forcefully and his body went flying away from you.
The loss of his grip sent you crashing down, weakened by the lack of oxygen and damn near completely unconscious. Black dots clouded your vision and just before your head could hit the cold cement, gentle but frantic hands enveloped you firmly.
Your name was uttered frantically, the hands clutching you into a warm solid chest and you slowly tried to blink the dots out of your vision. Disoriented and barely hanging on to consciousness, you tried to resurface.
“—Y/N? Baby, baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes, come on—“
The voice sent a chill down your spine and your vision was clearing up slightly, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up.
“Peter?” You whispered doubtfully, head throbbing from the ruthless hit that guy had landed on you.
The vivid red and blue colors of his suit were dancing in your vision and your dazed eyes focused on his face as one of his hands came up to rip the mask off his head.
The sight flooded your chest with relief, heartbreak, and joy all at once. You felt the familiar euphoria you always did whenever you locked eyes with him.
All that love— everything you thought you’d banished away— turns out it was only tucked deep down and it resurfaced in a violent tidal wave of emotion.
But for now, in your disoriented and likely concussed state, all you could manage was a slight upturn on your lips.
A shaky chuckle left his lips, cradling you in his arms as his knees dug into the pavement below. “Hey, baby…” one of his hands came up to cradle your face, his watery eyes scanning your body with such desperation that it concerned you.
All at once, the present slammed into you and the confusion hit.
“W-what? How? Where—?” The questions spilled out of you, barely strung together or making sense.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“ Peter was saying, running his thumbs lightly over your chin where it still stung and up to your throbbing temple that felt strangely wet. His touch was everywhere all at once and not helping with the aching confusion.
“The guy— he was— they’re after you—“
You tried to sit up to look for him— suddenly terrified that he would be pointing the gun at Peter or you— despite the lack of strength and Peter’s firm grip keeping you locked in place.
“Hey, I took care of him. He’s down. He’s down, I promise,” Peter was reassuring quietly as he soothed your hair back, words tumbling from his lips in a nervous ramble. His hands were shaking and his face was wet, hair in complete disarray.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry—“ his hands suddenly gripped you a little tighter when your eyes slipped shut for a moment too long. You felt exhausted, the adrenaline seeping out of you and leaving you in the aftermath of a strangled throat and a painful concussion. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to stay safe. Staying away meant you’d be safe.”
His words were barely audible, a devastating mumble of self-loathing and blame, tumbling out one after the other.
“What are you talking about?” You forced out, your voice raw and barely above a whisper.
Peter’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, filled with agony as if seeing you in pain caused him pain too. Before you could make sense of it all, Peter sprung to his feet and cradled you in one arm before a rush of air forced your eyes shut. You barely felt the journey home, floating between a state of consciousness and unconsciousness until those arms rested you on the familiar surface of your bed and your eyes slowly opened to find Peter hovering above you.
His hands cradled the back of your neck, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, breathing in shakily as his eyes slipped shut and a single tear made a path down his cheek.
Despite the amount of shitty you currently felt, the overwhelming need to make sure he was always okay took over. Your hand went up to wipe his tear away, coaxing his eyes open as you traced his jaw softly.
“Hey, I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both okay, Peter,” you whispered.
“I need to take you to a hospital,” he said as his eyes traced the bump on your temple and the traces of blood that remained. It was physically painful for him to gaze upon your bruised throat, littered in hues of purple and pink.
It was all his fault and the guilt stabbed him in the stomach repeatedly. He should’ve been the one with those bruises. His blood should’ve been spilled, not yours. Never yours.
“I’m okay,” you insisted weakly, tracing your eyes all over his worried face. All that “hatred” you’d felt before you had melted away into nothingness. Because nothing felt as right or complete as it did when you were with him.
“No, I’m taking you to the hospital now,” he said insistently, slipping out of the suit and reaching into your drawer to take his own clothes out and change. If you weren’t so rattled from the night’s events, you would’ve blushed at the fact that he somehow knew his clothes were still untouched from the months you’d spent apart.
You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue against it anymore, and after a brief hospital visit and some scans later, you’d felt lucid enough to have a conversation with your ex.
And after he’d explained the threats Spider-Man had been receiving months ago, he also explained his desperate attempt to keep you safe by ensuring he no longer had any part in your life.
He’d lied. He’d said horrible things to get you to let go of him. Things that pained him so badly he barely felt like a person in the months after he’d broken up with you.
To know you’d both been in misery… to know that his words, his cruel cruel words, were lies fabricated to keep you safe…
It infuriated you and weakened you all at once. And because you understood his love and deeply loved him just as much, you found it in yourself to forgive him.
Only after some groveling on his part. And heavy scolding on yours.
“If you ever try to gaslight me again, evil villains threatening us or not, I swear I’ll break up with you for real, Parker,” you threatened very seriously one lazy afternoon, your thighs slung on either side of his hips.
His bright brown eyes stared up at you as if he held his entire world within his arms. “You got it, ma’am,” he breathed, leaning up to capture your lips with his.
Your hands gripped his shoulders and traveled to the back of his neck, tangling with his chestnut curls. He kissed you like you were the air he needed in his lungs, as if you’d disappear from his grasp if he ever let you go.
Your teeth captured his bottom lip lightly as you pulled away, his eyes darker as they slowly opened to look into yours. And he gave you one small moment before flipping you over so that your back hit the couch and he hovered over you suddenly. The movement so quick that you couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips, muffled by his own smiling mouth as he came down to meet you over and over again.
Summary: trying to seize the moment on your anniversary before the kids wake up
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, lazy morning sex, husband and wife, whispers, needing to be quiet, breeding kink, important discussion, domestic bliss
Word Count: 2kish? (I wrote in app again so don’t know)
A/N: this is a super quick idea I had before bed whilst in my horny feels for dad!peter. Also it took me way longer to decide on a gif to pair this with than write and I only chose this one because… well I gave up. Anyway, enjoy.
You were still half asleep when you felt him roll over in the bed next to you and snuggle closer. The early morning light from the city was already starting to penetrate through the curtains, but you forced your eyes to remain closed, enjoy the feeling of your husband cuddled in tightly next to you and get at least a little bit more sleep before the kids woke up.
However it seemed Peter had other ideas. You felt him shift behind you again, his arms moving under the covers as he pulled you back even further into the shape of his warm body, his morning wood pressing firmly against your ass cheeks through your underwear.
You remained still, feigning sleep, wanting to see how far he would take things or if he genuinely just wanted to have a morning cuddle- and his erection was just an unfortunate inconvenience. But as his hand moved down to stroke at the skin on the outside of your thigh and up under your nightdress, you knew this was more calculated than you initially realised.
“Mmmm,” you groaned as you rolled back into him, letting him know you were awake. “What are you doing?” You asked as he began to snake his hand into the front of your underwear, his fingers wasting no time as they began to rub lazy circles over your clit.
“I’m seizing the moment,” he replied in a hushed and husky tone into your ear. “Mabel had her sleepover at Aunt May’s last night,” he said, dipping two of his fingers inside you and making you let out a little moan. “Ben will be asleep for at least another half hour,” he continued, his body shifting slightly as he looked over at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. “Besides, it’s our anniversary weekend and I’m feeling like I haven’t really shown my wife just how much I appreciate her lately.”
You whimpered as he stopped pumping his fingers inside you and moved them instead, back to messily circling your clit. “Mmmm, Peter,” you moaned breathily as he leant in to nuzzle at your neck, his lips tickling at your skin.
“Shhhh, baby,” he hummed into your ear, “I don’t want to get interrupted again,” he said, reminding you of when he had tried to initiate sex last week before Mabel had burst in claiming to have had a nightmare. You had of course welcomed her into bed with open arms, much to her father’s frustration. “You owe me,” he had said to you in the dark after she had fallen back asleep between the two of you, and now it seemed he was ready to collect.
He shifted you back onto your side before hiking up your nightdress and slipping your underwear down your legs to get lost somewhere at the bottom of the bed sheets. You could feel him shuffling behind you as he slipped down his pyjama bottoms to expose himself, before lining himself up with you from behind.
You shifted your leg back over his thigh, allowing him space to manoeuvre. Even after all these years and two kids, he still managed to fit you like a glove. “Oh god,” he groaned into your neck before he pushed his forehead into your shoulder.
As he began to rock inside you, you closed your eyes, wanting to focus on feeling him deep inside you from this position. You hummed quietly, trying to hold back the moans that desperately wanted to fall from your lips, but still wanting him to know how much you were enjoying this, especially when his hand moved round to palm at your breast.
“You should come off the pill again,” he said huskily into your ear. “Have another baby,” he grunted, his thrusts hitting deeper and messier as he lost his mind over the thought. Peter had a real breeding kink. Neither of you had realised until you had actually gotten serious about trying for kids a year after you got married. It was something that just happened naturally and only became worse when you actually fell pregnant and began growing Mabel in your belly.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy when you’re pregnant,” he moaned into your skin. “So fucking beautiful when you’re carrying my child inside of you.” he gritted, his thrusts becoming firmer with each word as he lost himself to the fantasy.
“I thought you said we had to be quiet,” you hissed over your shoulder at him and his hand moved down to circle dangerously over your clit again.
“I am quiet,” he whispered, “I said it because you don’t know how to be.” His fingers pressed down on your sensitive clit as he spoke and as if to prove him right, you let out a slightly louder, unexpected and completely uncontrollable moan.
“Shhh,” he hissed into your ear again. “See, I told you-“
“Pete,” you whined quietly as his slow and deep lazy thrusts and circling fingers began to bring you to the edge.
“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he reassured you quietly and you really had to focus in order to not cry out and wake the toddler sleeping soundly down the hall.
“Come on, baby,” he coached you quietly as your hips began to thrust back into him desperately, needing just that little more to tip you over the edge.
“Peter,” you whimpered, your teeth biting at your lips.
“I know, I know. I’ve got you, baby,” he cooed, his cock dragging agonisingly against that sensitive spot inside you, your legs closing tightly, making the feeling even more intense. Your fingers gripped tightly into the pillow under your head, your eyes screwed shut tight as he continued to lazily fuck into you.
“Gonna make you cum, then fill you nice and good,” he said and your pussy fluttered around him at his words spurring him on to thrust just that little bit faster and firmer.
“Oh shit,” you gritted, your knuckles nearly white now as you waited for that final tip over the edge. His hands moved down quickly to open your legs again and rub at your clit. It was too much, the final straw and suddenly your climax came rushing over you. You rushed to turn your head into your pillow and muffle the groans and obscenities that were falling out of your mouth as he picked up pace and continued to fuck you through it, wanting desperately to finish before Ben inevitably realised you were both awake and came looking for you both.
“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he gritted. “My wife. So fucking good to me. So fucking good.” You gripped the bedsheets tight as his hips began to stutter, your sensitivity so overwhelming you needed to do anything you could to ground yourself and get through it.
With another two deep thrusts he stilled before you felt him begin to pulsate inside you, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides as his body collapsed over your own.
“I love you so much,” he panted into your ear as he pressed his head intimately against yours.
“I love you too,” you sighed, your eyes blinking heavily as they adjusted to the light of the room. “But you do know,” you said as your breathing continued to steady, his cock slowly softening inside you, “that if we have another kid, the chances of doing this will be even slimmer than they are now.” you sighed, just as you both began to hear thundering steps making their way down the hallway.
He groaned again, thinking that statement over before kissing you on the cheek. He sighed, pulling out of you and adjusting himself back inside his pyjamas under the covers just before the door clicked open and your little boy came bounding onto the bed.
“I don’t know,” Peter said as the three of you lay in bed with toast and juice watching early morning cartoons under the covers 30 minutes later, his eyes catching yours over the top of Ben’s head. He thought of Christmas mornings, the four of you all cuddled into this bed and opening presents. The bedtime routines. The many giggly games of hide and seek. The plethora of finger paintings on the fridge door, and smiled. “I think I’m willing to take those chances.” he said and you sighed in contentment, because three had always been your magic number anyway.
You and Peter were spooning in your bed, not really talking, but also not sleeping. He had slept over plenty of times before, but ever since your talk about sex a few weeks ago, things had shifted—at least in your mind.
His arms were wrapped around your waist, and you put your hands over his hands. In response, he gently kissed the back of your neck. You rolled over in his arms so you could face him. Goddamn, he was so cute. You could stare into those big brown eyes for a lifetime. He was just watching you, a smile starting to form. You kissed him ever so softly on the lips. He made a pleased kind of humming sound and kissed you back. That’s how it started.
As you two continued to kiss, you knew in that moment you wanted more. Whether it led to MORE more, whatever, but you just wanted more. More closeness. More connection. More of him.
In the past, if you’d been making out or cuddling, Peter would sometimes graze your back or stomach under your shirt. Otherwise, he’d never felt parts of you that were supposed to be hidden.
But what if you wanted him to?
As you were kissing, you gently grasped his hand and slid it from your waist up under your shirt. He sucked in a startled breath and his eyes flew open.
You smiled at him. “Yes. I want this. And yes, I will tell you if that changes.”
“At any point.” Though his voice was serious, you could feel his hand trembling a bit on your bare breast.
“Yes.”
“Can I… kiss you there?”
You considered that option. “Yes. Please.”
Whoa, his hands, and then lips!, on your sensitive skin! The fact that you still had your shirt on made this some sort of secret for just the two of you. It all felt incredible… but you soon found yourself kind of writhing and moaning in way that felt more about him than you. This is what women did in movies, so it’s what he wanted, right? It’s what you were supposed to be doing?
Peter must have sensed a disconnect because he drew back. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Just in my head, as usual,” you sighed. You were suddenly very aware of your shirt having been pulled askew and how exposed your body was compared to his. You drew a blanket over your chest.
Peter pressed his forehead to yours. “I can stop.”
“No, I don’t want that, I just don’t want my brain yelling at me that I’m not moaning enough or sexy enough.”
“Well, I’ve got a message for your brain—you are well beyond ‘sexy enough.’ To see and feel you, my god. I think my eyes rolled back in my head! I really hope I had them closed so I didn’t look like a total idiot.”
You couldn’t hold back a startled laugh. “Wait. So you’re self-conscious too!”
“Well, yeah. It’s kind of hard not to be in a situation like this.”
You couldn’t have loved him any more in that moment, and you impulsively kissed him.
Though he smiled, he said, “Let’s stop.”
“No.” You were both surprised by how reflexively it came out. “No, what I want is to throw my brain in the trash ala Squidward and just enjoy being groped by my boyfriend! Wait, that doesn’t sound right…”
At least you were both laughing now, and that helped with your nerves.
“Can you take your shirt off?” You timidly asked him. “Just for, like, equality?”
He laughed. “Oh, well, only if it’s for equality.”
“I know stuff like that is important to you.”
“Yes, of course….” Then his laugh trailed off. “But I feel like I should warn you. I have some pretty gnarly scars. I hope they don’t freak you out.”
“Scars? Oh, from Spider-Man stuff?”
“Yeah.”
You slid your hand under his shirt and eventually felt some deep lashes on his chest. In that instant, you almost teared up, because the thought of someone hurting Peter enough to leave permanent damage….
“Yeah, you found them,” he said softly, with a rueful smile.
“Can I see?”
He nodded reluctantly and tugged his shirt off over his head. You couldn’t suppress a gasp.
“Oh, Peter….” The raised lines of healed skin were deep and angry looking. You ran your finger along one of them.
“An unfortunate run-in with a lizard,” he explained. As with so many things, you just had to nod and move on. Accept the craziness.
You scooted closer to him. He slipped one arm around you to pull you in. You leaned forward and ever so gently traced his scars with little kisses. You wished that could have healed the skin completely and erased the experience from his memory.
“I love you,” he whispered. When you looked up, he was smiling almost tearfully.
“I wish I could make it all go away, but I….” you shrugged, helpless.
“I know. I wish I could make your anxiety all go away,” he said, kissing your forehead. Your heart fluttered with love for him.
You sat up and tugged at the hem of your shirt. “Will you help me?”
He whisked your shirt off, and you shivered as the cloth grazed your bare skin. He studied you with a little smile, then said matter-of-factly, “Well, you’re just exquisite.”
Though you blushed, you also smiled. You lay back down and rolled onto your side so your bare skin was resting against his, absorbing his warmth. He gave a shuddery sigh.
“Too much?”
“No,” he said. “I think this is the precipice to heaven.”
You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder. You slid an arm over his chest, the smooth underside of your forearm over the rough skin of his scars. You weren’t really thinking of anything anymore, besides how good it felt to be held, skin-to-skin, with the person you loved…. With the person who loved you.
