#tasm!peter x reader

[gwenstacythe2nd]

tasm!peter parker masterlist

moonlight - in which peter parker misses you like crazy, and decides to pay you a late night visit

mend - in which peter parker is hurt, and you're the only one who can mend him

skivers - in which peter comes up with a plan to get you out of class on the warmest day of the year

muse - in which peter parker is the perfect muse

t-shirt - in which peter loves your new spider-man t-shirt

[gwenstacythe2nd]

how I picture dating peter parker

mattress on the floor, tangled sheets, dinner on the fire escape, city lights, breeze from the window, late nights studying, subways, swinging through the streets

[blairain]

Forever Winter.

pairing: tasm! peter x fem reader.

summary: after pushing away the only people he has left, Peter is forced to face the one thing he's always feared the most: letting someone stay.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of character death, grief, emotional confrontation, found family, happy ending.

my masterlist ☆

important: english is not my first language !! this is my first fic and post, hope u like it🫰🏻

He says he doesn't believe anything much he hears these days

He says, "Why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?"

Peter is struggling. It became so obvious a couple days ago, the baggy eyes, the late arrivals to class, skipping nights out with friends, yeah, that kinda give it out for you. And you are not the only one who sees it.

"You look like shit", it's the first thing that Thomas says when you all sit in the coffee table, Thomas sitting on your right and Peter right in front of you.

"What he's trying to say...", you start talking after kicking Thomas under the table for being so direct, "Is that..., well, we noticed that you have been kinda... weird? I mean, we can tell that you are not feeling well. We are worried, you barely leave your house..." Peter bites his lip to hold a laugh, if you both knew what he does every single day, which is clearly not staying home.

"I thought we were going to get some coffee", says Peter cutting your speech mid way, "But this feels like a planed intervention". His tone makes it clear that he's getting irritated. "Last time I checked, neither of you is my mom, so I don't need to explain myself. Go find another project, okay?" Yeah, something is really wrong. 'Cause he would never treat you both like that.

"Stop that, we are not going anywhere. We are your friends and we care", you say right before Thomas could blurt out something he'll regret later.

Peter close his eyes, he knows that, and that's exactly the problem. When he started college, the ghosts of his uncle, Gwen, Harry... every single person he had let down still haunted him. Every time he walked to class, went to work, took a test, or even grabbed something to eat, he felt guilty. Why was he there? Why did he deserve to be alive when they weren't?

The only reason he kept up with college was May, but the only time he truly found comfort was when he was wearing the suit.

Being Spider-Man was easier than being Peter.

Spider-Man was just some cool guy saving the day, swinging around the city and helping people... Meanwhile, Peter was just a guy who kept losing everyone and everything.

He almost dropped out of college to be Spider-Man full-time, but that's when you showed up.

At first, Peter barely spoke to you. You got paired together for a research paper, and he was completely ready to tell you, "Do it on your own. I'm dropping out.", but you spoke first. And once he heard your voice, for some reason he still refuses to admit, he sat down and wrote that damn paper.

After that, you never left.

He was awkward, barely talked, and constantly disappeared because of "work" (saving the city), but you liked him anyway. He was smart, kind, calm, and surprisingly funny whenever he decided to speak.

Before either of you realized it, you were walking together through the hallways, waiting for him at the bus stop before class, and having lunch together almost every day.

Before Peter even noticed, the ghosts that had haunted him and reminded him of every mistake he'd ever made were gone.

Then, just as he was finally getting comfortable around you and starting to open up, Thomas showed up.

At first, Peter hated him. He was exactly the type of guy who would've bullied him in high school. But after trusting your judgment and getting to know him, Peter found himself with a new best friend. Thomas was a nerd. He and Peter had a lot in common, and Thomas treated him like a brother.

For the first time since high school, before he lost everyone he loved, Peter felt at home. And that's when everything became terrifying.

Especially after he almost lost you, too.

It was a rainy night after class. You and Thomas were leaving the library late, while Peter was supposedly home sick. Or at least, that's what you thought.

Peter was helping the police with a case. He doesn't even remember who the guy was or what he'd done in the first place. He only remembers that the bastard decided to hide inside a fast-food restaurant—the same one where you and Thomas had decided to grab dinner that night.

It turned into a hostage situation, but it ended quickly. Because the moment Peter arrived and saw you there, he completely lost it.

You and Thomas were fine. In fact, everything that happened that night eventually became an inside joke among the three of you. You joked about it and promised never to eat junk food again, while Thomas couldn't stop talking about Spider-Man for an entire week.

But Peter's thoughts were on a completely different level...

He remembered what was really at stake. He remembered how easy it was to lose someone he truly cared about. And he couldn't bear the thought of losing any of you.

Especially you.

So, in his mind, the best thing to do was to walk away.

If you both hated him, if you left him, then there would be no danger. He could never lose you if you weren't part of his life anymore.

"I have to go. I'm sorry." Peter stood up and left the table.

Thomas looked at you in disbelief. "Wait here," you told Thomas, wasting no time.

Peter was already outside the coffee shop when you caught up with him. You grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. "What the hell was that?"

"It's not personal. I have things to take care of. Just... leave it," he whispered.

"It is personal, because we're your friends. And it's personal because I care about you. Peter, we want to help you. Let us."

"I don't believe it."

"That we care?"

"That you can help. There's a lot you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me! Please!"

"Why? So I can watch you walk away?"

That made no sense to you. Why would you walk away?Why would you leave him? That's not what you do to someone you love.

"Peter... I..." You couldn't find the right words.

So he just left. Without looking back.

"Maybe he finally got to know us, and now he hates us."

You turn to look at Thomas, who's sitting across the table. You don't have to say anything. He can tell from your expression that you think he's an idiot. But he keeps talking anyway.

"I mean, what else could it be? Yesterday we were best friends, and now he basically told us we're trash.

"Be serious. What if something bad happened?" You check your phone. Peter hasn't opened the group chat, and he hasn't even looked at the messages you sent him privately a couple of hours ago.

It's been eight hours since he left.

"We should go to his house. Make sure he's okay."

Thomas stays quiet and shakes his head. You get it. He's angry. You're mad too. Why the fuck is he ghosting his best friends? But you can't let your anger take over. Not now. Right now, you're more worried than anything else.

"Go if you want, but I'm staying home."

You glance at the time. It's almost 10 p.m. You still have homework to finish for tomorrow. You have to get up early for class. It looks like it could start raining any minute.

"Keep your phone nearby. I'll call you if he needs you."

He seems fine most of the time, forcing smiles and neverminds Live my life scared to death he'll decide to leave instead

You know everything that happened to Peter during high school and after he graduated. When he told you those stories, you both cried. After that, you never talked about them again. He doesn't like talking about any of it, and you understand why. It must hurt so much.

Maybe all those memories came flooding back, forcing him to relive everything. But you can only guess.

Peter never lets anyone know when something's wrong. You'll never know what's really going on inside his head, but you do know when he's forcing a smile or brushing things off with another "never mind."

And today was one of those days.

Everything he said at the coffee shop felt like only half the truth. You can tell he's scared. But of what?

It's almost 11 p.m., and you're standing in front of Peter's house. You don't want to ring the doorbell. May is probably asleep, and Peter wouldn't answer anyway.

So you do something you haven't done since you were fifteen and sneaking out to go to parties.

You climb through the window.

"What the fuck?" The words slip out of Peter's mouth when he sees you clinging to his windowsill for dear life.

And honestly... Yeah. You're terrified.

"Little help?"

He takes his sweet time getting to the window. You can't see why. He silently thanks God for that, because explaining the Spider-Man suit is the last thing he wants to do right now.

"Are you insane?"

"I knew you'd ignore the door. Besides, I remembered you once told me you always keep your window unlocked."

"What are you doing here?"

"We're going to talk. Like it or not."

Oh, he definitely doesn't like it. Not even a little.

"I'm worried. I know something's going on with you. I know you, Peter."

"No. You don't."

He paces around the room as if walking in circles might help him keep everything bottled up. Everything he's been holding inside.

"Yes, I do!"

You're so certain of it. Maybe there are parts of Peter's life you'll never know. Maybe there are things he keeps hidden from everyone. But you know his heart. And that's what matters.

"No! Can't you see? You don't know the things I've done. The things I'm responsible for... I've hurt people. And I always end up hurting the people who get close to me. I don't know how to keep you safe. I don't know how to protect you while I keep doing... this. I always lose the people I love."

He's on the verge of tears. All you want to do is hug him. You'd do anything to see him smile again. But if there's one thing you'll never do... it's walk away.

"Well, that's fucking selfish."

Your answer catches him completely off guard. He's never heard you speak to him like that before.

"You don't have to keep me safe. And you don't have to protect me. You just have to care. I know you've lost people you loved. And I'm so, so sorry. But how is this fair to Thomas and me? Why do we have to lose you? You're still here, Peter. I know it hurts like hell. But you're still here. And you have to keep living. Pushing us away won't protect anyone. It'll only cause more pain. Maybe you're terrified of feeling that kind of loss again. Maybe you think leaving us first will spare you that pain. But it won't spare us. I... I don't want to lose someone I love."

Peter doesn't say a word. He just breaks down.

You finally pull him into your arms. He doesn't have to say anything. You can feel how exhausted he is. You can feel the weight of everything he's been carrying on his own.

But he isn't alone anymore.And he has to learn that.

He'll never stop missing the people he lost. Those memories will always be part of him. But you're right. He has to keep living. He still has a family. And somehow... he found you.

As you hold him close, you can almost feel the weight on his chest beginning to lift. You keep whispering that he'd better never leave you.

Yes. It's terrifying to love again. To have something to lose again. But it's exciting, too. For the first time in a long time... he has someone again. Someone who chose to stay. Someone to love.

"You won't lose me... Please. Believe me when I say this. I'm not going anywhere."

He says he doesn't believe anything much he hears these days I say, "Believe in one thing, I won't go away"

The next morning, Peter wakes up before you.

He looks over and finds you sleeping peacefully in his bed. He doesn't make a sound. He just stays there, watching you.

You didn't leave last night. Nothing could make you leave. Not even your morning classes. You stayed with him. You talked. You hugged. And the two of you realized there was a lot to work through. But love and care came before all of that.

What Peter doesn't know is that he fell asleep before you did. And while he was sleeping, you took the liberty of calling Thomas and helping him climb through the window.

Which is why Peter is more than a little surprised when he notices Thomas asleep on the floor, wrapped in an improvised bed made of a few blankets.

"You look like shit," Peter whispers once Thomas wakes up, careful not to wake you.

Thomas cracks a sleepy smile. Neither of them says anything about yesterday. They don't need to. Peter knows he'll always have a brother in Thomas.

And Thomas... Well, he learned something last night that suddenly made everything make sense.

While he was rummaging through Peter's drawers looking for extra blankets... he found something in the third one.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Thomas whispers back. "But you know what? You're gonna shit yourself when I tell you what I found in your third drawer..."

Peter's heart nearly stops.

"...and let's just say it wasn't exactly the kind of suit you'd wear with a coat and tie."

Fuck.

[femtoddanderson]

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: a wordless early dawn, where peter is the luckiest guy in the world.

You were out. Cold.

After a week of dating Spider-Man, you gave up on waiting up for him. Your sleep schedule changed for no man. So you slept with your window slightly ajar, leaving the light on so to say.

This night it was about 4 am. He hates coming in this late, knowing you’ll be up in two hours to get ready for work.

He slips through the fire escape window and latches it shut. He pads through your bedroom carefully, heel to toe, you’re a heavy sleeper —he knows—but he doesn’t want to risk it.

He discards his mask on the tv stand and runs his hand through his sweaty mess of hair. He turns the shower on and lets out a deep sigh. He lets the steaming water wash over him as his muscles tense and relax. He uses your body wash and shampoo, loving nothing more than going to sleep engulfed in your scent.

He emerges from your bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his hips. Your face is then basked briefly basked in the bathroom light. He sighs into a smile. He takes the Tylenol and sips the water you left for him on his bedside table. This is what he loved most about you, your thoughtful little acts he feels he was undeserving of.

The linen duvet is softly folded back and the mattress dips as he achely lays down. He hits the pillows and is hit with your smell again. He turns to where you lay. He lays little kisses on your hairline, careful not to stir you. He is certain.

He is the luckiest guy in the world.

[winxclubfanatic]

Bad

back at ya, bad girl

18+

peter parker drabble because I love the new movie

you’re at home chilling on your couch when you feel him. the shirt you’re wearing is pulled over your ass, and hands massage the flesh. there’s a smack before your butt is spread. a hand wipes down your slit as you let out a breathless moan.

“you been wet all day baby? hmm?” your boyfriend’s voice is like honey to your ears. another hard smack is laid on your ass, causing you to jolt forward. “ah!” you let out a squeal as you feel his large hand against your flesh. “answer my question, baby.”

“yes i’ve been so wet for you peter.” you whine as he continues playing with your slit, collecting the wetness on his fingers. “that’s a good girl.” he turns you over, and that’s when you notice his mask is still on. bare in every aspect but one.

you can feel yourself getting wetter as you stare at the white eye lenses. he pulls your legs up, placing them on his shoulders. your hand makes its way to your clit as you gently play with yourself. peter smacks your hand away before grabbing his cock.

it’s heavy and you feel it when he slaps his girthy long dick against your awaiting pussy. “you want it?” you nod before he slaps your pussy. “use your words.” your clit twitches from anticipation and a breeze of air. “i want it inside me so bad peter.” 

you pout, as your hands lift up your shirt to reveal your tits. nipples hardened to a peak as you gently rub them. truly a scene from a porno. that’s all it takes for peter to get inside of you. 

he doesn’t take his time; he goes all in. as he sinks into you, your head falls back onto the couch. peter keeps a steady but deep pace. “oh-oh my fuck-it’s so good,” you moan out as peter rearranges your insides.

“that’s right sweetheart take this dick.” the more he fucks you, the more turned on you get. this mask thing was seriously hot. peter starts to quicken his pace, as you see stars. your fingers still play with your nipples, as your hips lift up to meet his thrusts.

“keep fucking me please, i’m almost there.” you beg hard. you can’t see his face, but you know there’s a huge grin hidden beneath the mask. his hands move from beside your head to palm your tits, replacing yours. “these perfect titties sweetheart.”

his pace never slows; instead, he maintains the depth and the speed. you’re seeing stars. your hands reach out for him as they lift the mask up below his nose. “what’s wrong baby?” he asks, slightly slowing down.

“wanna kiss.” you ask, now able to see that familiar smirk. he obliges your request, speeding his pace up. your tongues mingle as you share a heated moment. one of his thrusts hits you in just the right spot, making your tongue fall out, and a huge moan erupts from you. 

“oh my fucking god.” you moan, the mask still covering the majority of his face as your eyes roll into the back of your head. “you want it inside?” he asks, rubbing your clit in a circular motion. you bite your lip, “yes.” nodding as you do. 

“gonna cum in my pussy okay baby.”

a bunch of freaks. unfortunately this is not apart of the shy!reader universe

[winxclubfanatic]

True Story

about all the lies..

summary: it's hard to trust when he can't be honest...

another shy!reader x obsessive peter pairing

He was acting strange. Way more strange than usual. You had always been proud of the fact that Peter was weird. At least he wasn’t buying into the frat guy stereotype.

But it was getting weird now. He’d go for hours late into the night without responding to the funny videos you’d send. Mysteriously refusing study dates and sleepovers. Then, of course, the bruises.

You were nervous that anytime you touched him, you would cause him pain because he’d have a hidden bruise somewhere underneath his shirt. They were bad too, shades of purple and blue; ugly blemishes on his beautiful skin.

“Peter, what the hell is going on?” You ask one day as he pulls his shirt on. He turns slowly, like he wasn’t expecting your question. It was months of this weird behavior, and you couldn’t deal with it anymore. 

“You ignore my texts, ignore me and now you have these weird frickin bruises everywhere!” Peter sits down next to you on his bed, eyes drifting over the strewn clothes waiting to be packed away. “It’s nothing sweetheart, I promise.” 

That makes you roll your eyes before lifting his shirt, revealing bruises and cuts near his ribcage. “Who did this to you?” You ask, looking straight into his eyes. “What is happening with you?” It’s unbearable seeing someone you love hurt, and it’s even worse knowing that he’s holding a secret from you.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” His promise doesn’t resonate with you. Instead, it sends red flag warnings up and down your spine. You know he’s lying, but you cannot understand why. You two share everything, so why is this time different? 

Finals slowly creep up on you, burying yourself in studying and writing papers. Homer, Virgil, film directors, and characters all mock you. Their ghostly forms circle your head, taunting you about an impending doom they love to write and experience. Your thoughts jumble together, like a tangled web. All you can think about are the bruises, the lies, and Peter. 

It wasn’t fair to you for him to keep secrets. Not at this stage in your relationship. You’d met his aunt; he’d met your parents. However, there was nothing other than an ominous feeling in your gut that proved he was lying. The library lights dimmed, making you realize you hadn’t moved an inch for five minutes. Stuck in a trance, stuck fighting your literary demons.

Quickly packing up, you walk to the only person who could make your head quiet. Even though you were worried and confused, Peter was your better half, your missing puzzle piece. He made you feel whole and a better person. 

The brothers of Kappa Sigma know who you are by now. The quiet little thing Peter always follows around no matter the occasion. You and Peter had been dating for over a year as well, so you were quite familiar. So when you knock on the door, they know to just let you in, without question. 

As you climb the wooden stairs up to Peter’s room, the sense of dread looms nearer and nearer. Like the stomach ache after a night full of drinking, it lights your entire nervous system on fire. Peter’s door is cracked an inch open. As you approach it, you can hear the faint conversation he’s having with Ned. 

“You’re gonna have to tell her eventually Peter. You’re only hurting her-”

“Thank you Ned for the lesson on how to treat my girlfriend Ned, I really do appreciate it.” He snarls, interrupting what seemed like good advice. You lean against the wall, listening to their conversation. “I’m just saying Peter it’s better off if you tell her the truth now. Like right now. She’s gonna figure it out sooner or later. You’re making it blatantly obvious.” 

“No, she is not, because I am careful.” You can hear the anger radiating in his voice. In the entire time you’ve known Peter, he’s never sounded like this. So irritated, so annoyed. You try to look through the crack, and through your limited vision, you can see him sitting on the bed. 

Bandaging his stomach, wincing through the pain. Bruises lining up and down his back and stomach. “Her feelings and safety come over anything in my life. You understand that, Ned?” You have half a mind to barge in there and confront him, because if he really felt that way, he would tell you. 

Maybe you’re overreacting, but Peter claimed he loved you more than Orpheus loved Eurydice. Is that what your relationship is supposed to become, an epic love plagued with tragedy? Your head thumps against the wall, softly enough not to alert either of them. It’s easy to get lost in your own head, mazes of your thoughts blocking you from figuring it out. 

Your teeth break the tip of your nail, and that’s when you realize you’d been biting your nails. Colorful paint lines the floor beside you, intricate designs that your friend spent carefully applying. You don’t know how much time has passed, but they’re still talking about you. 

Ned is constantly trying to root for you, while Peter dismisses his concerns. After standing for a moment, you can bear to listen anymore, instead opting to just go home.

You’re thankful it’s a weekend, and your roommate’s gone home. Phone on do not disturb, to not distract you from your self-pity. The more you think about his dismissal, the more you realize your relationship is like a chipped cup.

It might be fine after the initial chip, but over time it will continue to fracture until it shatters. This was just another fracture. 

A knock on your door interrupts your thinking. You don’t even have to get up; you know who it is. He’s already keying in and gently closing the door behind him. 

For the first time you’re regretting giving him an extra. From his angle, it looks like you’re lying in bed, depressed, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. When he approaches, he can clearly see there’s something off.

“Hiya sweetness. What’s going on?” He asks slightly, leaning over you. Peter’s lips barely graze your cheek before you’re turning away. “Baby. Get up and talk to me.”

Your phone lights up; maybe you touched who knows. But what has become apparent is that he’s texted and called you more than once. “Grant told me you stopped by. However, I told him it wouldn’t be possible because you never made it to my room.” 

Damn it, Grant. You slowly sit up, still wrapped up in the fabrics. “I didn’t wanna talk.” Brief and honest, enough to make him question but not enough to let him know how you feel. Peter could read you like an open book, so he knew when something clearly was bothering you.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” Peter gets straight to the point, with little room to either lie or ignore it altogether. “Is it the bruises? I told you they are nothing.”

Your anger boils over and spills out of you like a waterfall. “Are you serious? Like are you fucking serious?” You glare at him, trying to see the bruises you knew were underneath his shirt. “If you don’t want to say how you got them, then fine! Just don’t lie!” 

Peter’s taken aback, his mouth slightly drops as he tries to recalibrate his response. “I’m not lying.” He was, and it was so easy to tell. You were honestly sick and tired of his behavior. No more did you want to deal with the lies, disappearances, and dismal anymore.

“You are, though. You’re still lying!” Your hands rub your eyes as you shake your head. This was it, this was the chipped cup folding underneath the pressure of all its fractures. “You always do this. Any concern, anything I question about you, you just lie. That’s all you ever do is lie, lie lie!” How you truly felt about Peter was spilling out all at once. 

You loved Peter more than the moon loved the sun, but maybe like them, it was never meant to last. “You keep saying that you’re putting me first, you care about my feelings more than anything else, but you don’t.” Your voice softly cracks as you speak. The rhythmic beat of your heart slightly slows down as it prepares you for what’s going to happen. 

“If you loved me, Peter, you would tell me the truth.” His face is impossible to read. It’s like a blank slate. His eyes look at you with admiration and love, but they’re empty. Buried underneath the good stuff is a simple hole that could never be filled. If it was because something was preventing it from being filled, you didn’t know, but what you did know was that you were tired of fighting against it. 

“I really do love you, Peter, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out.” Peter’s face doesn’t drop; it doesn’t move. His eyes don’t crinkle the way they do when he’s sad. He’s completely void of any emotion. “Is that really what you want?” He asks, eyes boring into your soul. Peter knows it’s over, but he still has a mere sliver of hope that you two could work through it.  

“Yeah.” You can hardly look at him anymore. Peter takes a step back before fishing the key out of his pocket and laying it on the desk. “Have a nice summer.” The door closes behind him, and thus another chapter of your life closes. The cup lay shattered, pieces flinging everywhere. You can hardly bring yourself to cry. 

Taking a sharp breath, blinking away any rogue tears. Your head thuds against the wall, and your hand goes to play with your necklace. The same P-initial necklace Peter got you. The chain doesn’t bring you the same comfort it did before. Instead, it further carves a hole where the Peter-sized plug pieced it back together. 

You get an alert on your phone, stating to stay indoors after a threat was spotted downtown. So you curl up underneath your covers and try to bury yourself in television and ice cream. Meanwhile, Peter’s zipping up the infamous red and black webbed clothing while fighting back tears. At least, well, in his mind, you’ll be safe and content. Truthfully, that’s all he could’ve asked for. 

a/n: HAPPY BRAND NEW DAY DAYYYYYYY!! I'm seeing it later with my friends!!!

oh yeah and my bad

[winxclubfanatic]

obsessive peter x shy!reader coming to celebrate brand new day!!!!

[arachbite]

follow like a dog in the summer

pairing: tasm! Peter Parker x reader (any peter could work actually but i wrote this with tasm in mind) 2.5k words

summary: You spam Peter’s messages while he’s out, then feel horrible about it.

cw: mentions of a bruise (spider-man typical), kissing, mentions of the F.E.A.S.T. Charity May works at in the MCU/Insomniac games

🕸️๋࣭ ⭑༄—

New York in July is sweltering, the heat of the sun coming down and trapping itself amongst the busy bodies moving from place to place. Most people are outside because they have places to be, things to do, or because the cost of running the air conditioner on the whole day is higher than catching the free breeze.

Peter is outside because he, like the busy goers of New York, has a job to do that even the rising temperatures can’t stop. Crime doesn’t stop just cause it gets hot, thieves just steal wearing tank tops.

But you’re part of the group suffering the heat indoors. The window is thrown open, air blowing through every now and then but never enough to bring comfort. You could go outside, go to the park where the air is cooler and the world feels alive, but you don’t do that because walking to the park means enduring the sun and taking the subway means spending cash (and Peter wouldn’t approve of jumping the turnstiles). So you stay flopped on your bed, limbs listlessly sprawled out.

Beside you is your phone, still on and running hot from its own brightness. On the screen, a wall of texts from you to Peter. Like a one way glass. Frowning, you turn on your side and scroll through the jumble of words again.

You still coming over?

I made sandwiches

Cut the crusts so u don’t complain

Make sure u bring ur scientific calculator

Im gonna start studying without u then ur gonna be cooked

Jk but hurry or else i’ll fall asleep waiting for u

Im guessing you’re out

Doing… bug stuff

Wink wink! :-)

That’s ok!!!!

Just was curious

Let me know though if you need anything

Just checking on you

Making sure ur not dead or whatever

Sorry for spam lol

You shut your phone off and turn your face into the mattress groaning. You didn’t mean to say… so much. God, his notifications must be filled by your ramblings.

This wasn’t… you. You think.

You weren’t that kind of girlfriend. You don’t follow Peter like a dumb puppy, waiting with bated breath for a glance. Your stomach churns, chest tightening as the words tumble around the cavern of your mind.

But that wasn’t what this strange feeling was, feeling needy. No, you didn’t feel needy. You feel… selfish. Selfish for asking for so much from someone so selfless. He was out there risking his life, saving others, while you lazed about.

Peter was the most selfless person you knew, probably the most selfless person to ever walk this horribly unjust world. You’re upset for him, at the world for being so slanted that Peter needed to tilt it back with his own hands, and mostly upset at yourself that you could hardly stand three hours without him.

It was selfish, poking and preening at him, pulling his attention for your own comfort.

The room is silent aside from your breathing, then suddenly a little thwip! Its far off and if you weren’t so tuned in you’d have missed it.

But surely enough, he’s here.

Peter lands onto your fire escape and wastes no time crawling in and rolling onto your bedrooms floor. His breathing is steady but he was clearly exhausted. Lazily he shrugs his backpack off his shoulder and tosses it to his side on the floor.

“Hey sweetheart.” Peter greets, voice breathy. You pull yourself up and off the bed in half shock to look down at him. “Hey,” you reply.

Like second nature, your eyes are scanning his body for injuries and are pleased to find there are none.

At least until his spandex clad hands reach up and remove his mask, revealing a splotchy yellow patch blooming across the right side of his face. The horrid thing is placed just on top of his beautiful cheek and your entire face crumples.

“It’s nothing,” Peter says immediately, sitting up. You’ve already plopped yourself down to join him on the floor.

“Nothing else?” You ask and Peter nods, a small smile on his face. As if he should be thankful in this circumstance.

“Just this baby, nothing else,” Peter, much too kind and too honest, affirms and you relax slightly.

Your hands trail up and tilt his head to look at the forming bruise, and Peter the saint lets you. You’re sure he’d let you throw him off the fucking Brooklyn bridge if you wanted, because he was just that good. He was just that wonderful.

You want to smother him in kisses, want to go away for ever and never touch him again. You frown at the thought, and your chest tightens seeing him like this.

Peter notices, cause of course he does.

“It’ll heal in an hour or two I swear. No biggie,” Peter chides, voice light and airy like a breeze.

He brings his other hand up to cup your face instead, and leans in for a kiss but tou turn your face away, embarrassed.

Peters light grin drops l and now you’ve made things worse.

“Is this… is this because I didn’t reply to you?”

Immediately you pull away from him and stand up.

God, he must think you’re being so childish because in truth you perhaps were. But the strange feeling had rooted itself into you and now you cant let it go. You pad around his form and head for the door.

“I’ll get you an icepack for that.”

“Wait, hold on—“

In an instant Peter’s up and after you, following you down the hall.

You reach your kitchen, it was modest but always had some sort of ice pack ready for Peter. A thought lingers in your mind that maybe the icepacks mightve melted in the heat. You barely make it to the fridge before Peter’s right behind you.

“Is it that? I’m sorry. I wanted to, I promise. I was just a little occupied y’know. I meant to reply I really did—“

You turn to face him because he deserves that much, and his voice is so soft coming from a face so battered. It tears at your heart.

“It’s not that Peter, it’s not you.”

“Then what? Why are you upset sweetheart?”

For a beat you’re quiet as the words take their shape and Peter watches you patiently.

“I feel… bad.”

Peter blinks, mouth falling open and you can tell his brain is running through a million scenarios. “Like, how bad? Time of the month bad?”

Finally a smile bursts across your face and Peter’s posture relaxes almost immediately. Like a flower when the sun comes out from behind a cloud, all smiles and brightness. He laughs too.

“Peter—“

“What? If it’s that, that’s okay. I can give you space. I’m cool with that.”

“It’s not that,” you say, looking away sheepishly. “Bad like, selfish bad.” Peter’s brow furrows at your words.

“It’s just that… I felt so stupid. Waiting around for you, thinking about you, while you were outside in the middle of a fucking heatwave saving old ladies from burning buildings or whatever.”

“I did no such thing, I’d be more charred if I did” Peter adds but you shush him.

“It made me feel stupid. Like, how could I do that? Bother you for answers when I was sat at home. You save peoples lives. I’m…” you trail off, looking at the ceiling, the walls, the lint on the couch. Anywhere but at Peter.

“…I felt stupid.”

Peter turns on his heel abruptly, steps quick down the hall and back to your room.

You weren’t expecting that reaction.

Quickly you follow after him, stopping at the doorway. There he was, red and blue crouched by his backpack and hands swiping along his phone.

“Peter what are you—“

“This is what you think being selfish is?”

His voice is quick, sharp in the way that wasn’t angry but left no room to argue.

“Asking me where I was when I was late? Checking on me? Making sure I wasn’t dead?” Theres now almost a laugh to his words, like he couldn’t even fathom the concept you had been so stuck on.

“You remember I don’t like crusts on my sandwiches. That’s selfish to you?”

Peter looks up at you from his place on the floor, on his knees with his phone in his lap. He was bathed in the afternoons warm light, sun outlining his figure. The lighting made him seem like some battered angel, the sight made you weak in the knees.

“Compared to you I just thought—“

“Well don’t compare yourself to me. There’s probably some surgeon out there, or some therapist, who’d saved more lives than I have. But that doesn’t matter, doesn’t make me any less important, or take away from the people I do help. You aren’t selfish, farthest thing from it.”

Peter stands now, and the minute he’s up you surge forward.

You kiss him there because you believe him, because the genius that he was, made sense. At least you loved him enough to believe him, loved him enough to let that love guide the rest of your actions regardless. If Peter of all people thinks you’re good, then you must be.

You pull away from the kiss but Peter’s snaked his arms around you and placed one so softly to your cheek. He tugs you back and this time you let him. He doesn’t quite kiss you again, more so nuzzling himself into you as his other hand keeps you there. It feels maybe even more intimate than kissing, just to be close like that.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I was being stupid.”

“No you weren’t,” Peter replies half a whisper, “you’re perfect as you are, sweet girl.” He says and you smile, face scrunching and he giggles giddy. Like he was proud to get that from you.

“You know,” you say tilting your head into his hands, “you should probably change now. You must be hot.”

Peter gives you a funny look and you pull away from him, face falling flat.

“I mean temperature wise! From all the hero stuff and spandex wearing,” you grumble, walking around him and toward your still very open window. “You should be thankful we’re on the fourth floor and that nobody just saw me making out with Spider-Man.”

Peter shrugs. “Would’ve been worth it.”

“No it wouldn’t,” you reprimand. You tug the blinds down and as soon as you do Peter slinks out of his suit. “Shower?” He asks amongst the shuffling sounds.

“Yeah you need one.”

“No,” now it was his turn to refute with a grin to his voice, “I mean, shower with me?”

Peter’s half way out of his suit now and you avert your gaze. It’s nothing you haven’t seen, if anything you’ve seen more. He’s literally asking you to shower together, but still. Doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it nothing makes the sight of his toned abs ‘casual’ to a freak like you.

“It’ll save us the water bill, plus we get to cool off.” Peter says removing the last of himself from his suit, leaving him in a pair of shorts.

“That is a good point.”

“Yeah it is, come on bub.”

—

As always, Peter was right. It cooled you pff immensely. Stepping out of the shower was heavenly, the chill of the water making the room feel colder than it actually was.

Now you’re sat on the edge of the bed towel drying your hair as a shirtless Peter rifles through his stack of clean clothes for a shirt. He settles for a navy one with ‘I wear this shirt periodically’ written below an image of the periodic table. Its worn and has a tiny hole near the bottom but Peter still likes it well enough.

“You know that thing your aunt’s been doing?”

Peter hums as he slips his shirt on. “The yoga thing or the other thing?”

“The charity thing,” you snort at him. “The uhh… what was it called again?”

You stand and pad over to the dirty laundry basket in your room and drop your towel in. Now clothed too, Peter sits down on the bed and pretends to think. His hair was still wet and sat on his forehead in a way that made him look boyishly cute. The bruise from before was still there, darkening, but Peter reassured you it’ll be gone by morning. Hardly even felt it.

“The F.E.A.S.T. Center?”

“Yeah! That one.” You smile, stopping in front of him and slotting yourself nicely between his legs. Your hands loop around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and he sits lazily.

“I think I’ll head down there later, or tomorrow. I want to be helpful.”

Peter quirks a brow at you, as if in thought, but the look is quickly replaced by an easy expression. “That’s nice. Want me to give May a heads up?”

You nod your head and move to sit beside him. “Sure, but you don’t have to. She doesn’t need to babysit me.”

“Babysit? Honey, she’d be ecstatic to have you around.”

You feel the urge to lay down, but as your hair was still damp you opt to stay as you are and instead focus your gaze on Peter. “Okay, if you say so. Just let her know I’m interested in lending a hand. Anything. I can go after class most days if I’m not busy.”

Peter quiets for a moment as you look at him, he opens his mouth to say something but stops halfway. You watch him decide what to say, now being on the other end left to sit patiently.

“This doesn’t mean you’ll be texting me less, will it?”

You laugh and Peter looks so earnest you feel a little bad. He makes an exasperated sort of noise. “You’re laughing but I mean it! Cause y’know, you said—“

“I’ll still text you Peter. We’re still dating,” you coo and he pokes at your side, earning a small yelp from you. You settle again and continue, as Peter listens on.

“It’s just that, I hated that feeling of not doing anything. Hated just being someone who waited around. I realized while you were scrubbing my back in the shower that I should probably do something about it.”

Peter looks at you now and its difficult to describe the extent of his expression. It was soft, but careful. Thoughtful in how he presented himself.

“You were never selfish though, you know that right? I want you to understand that. You don’t have to prove a point of it— not that I don’t think you should volunteer! Just that, you shouldn’t just be doing it to prove something that’s already true.”

“I know,” you huff, looking away, but Peter tugs your hand into his and so your eyes meet once again.

“I just want to know I’m doing my best too. It’ll give me some peace of mind I think.” You admit. “Okay sweetheart. That’s good.” Peter says, satisfied. His thumb brushes over your hand absentmindedly.

“…but you’ll still text right?”

You burst out into another fit of laughter, pulling him closer so you could litter kisses along his face, although Peter’s brows remain furrowed.

“What? You may be a generous saint but I am not. I am allowed to be a little selfish.”

—

Ty for reading! Peter requests are open btw!