hang the stars upon tonight [tasm!peter parker x reader]
A/N:Here it is at LONG LAST – my entry for @spidervee April AU event. Please enjoy tattoo artist!Peter Parker. Reblogs are always appreciated! Except it’s June, so we’re claiming SUMMER AU EVENT!
Reblogs make the world go ‘round.
Pairing:TASM!Peter Parker x fem!reader (no use of y/n; Peter calls reader “Eden.” Gentle reminder that all my readers are written ambiguously, but I write them as latinx!readers).
Word Count: 23.6k (I KNOW, OKAY?) of little ‘forevers,’ of constellations and conundrums, of ink on bodies and ink on pages, of heartache and holy moments.
Warnings: my writing is its own warning, cw/tw: mentions of getting a first tattoo – so, minor discussions of pain, discomfort and a little mention of blood. Also – a bit of angst, and smut, so 18+ ONLY – touching, biting, my usual odd attempts at dirty talk, fingering, oral (female receiving), p in v sex, peter is kinda rude at times, i’m sorry but it’s true.
Summary:Tattoo!AU – Peter is a tattoo artist with a sleeve of stars and his own ideas about love. Until he meets you – the literary-loving prospective client with her heart set on forever, a perpetual garden of greenery and goodwill. Will you find your forever? Or are you doomed to dance and die in the arms of a beautiful boy?
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–So many aspects of life are fleeting …
The beloved, pink sparkly jellies you’d worn through as a child that pinched your toes, but you’d loved anyway. Flowers that withered and died before you’d gotten a chance to fully appreciate their bursting blooms from the vase at the corner of your windowsill. Loves that come and are lost, that feel grandiose and historic in the moment, but are no more than brushes against lips and fading fingerprint bruises along hips. The seasonal changes that marked each year, autumn bleeding auburn unto the white of winter’s chill.
Perhaps that’s why the permanent things never really scared you. No, you’d preferred the steadfast staunchness of things that stood the test of time.
You’d accepted that certain aspects of life would come and go, with the next person none the wiser … Like when you returned a library book, and the next person to hold it would be blissfully unaware that you had beheld the same text. Your fingerprints invisible to them, save for a dated stamp on a card tucked inside the front jacket.
Was it right to say you feared fleeting things? Perhaps it was more accurate to say that you craved constants where you could get them. Keep them.
You held, with great reverence, the concept of ‘forever,’ of love and lasting, and of something that would endure,beyond yourself and your finite time. You never started a job with the intention of leaving it. And you never took lightly any decision that would have a rippling impact. It just wasn’t in your nature. That said, the weight of a choice was not heavy on your shoulders; no, you held it in your hands with gentle certainty, as one might cradle a small, smooth stone. Before skipping it and watching the ripples extend outward with each touch to the water’s smooth surface, destined to touch and extend forever.
So the prospect of getting a tattoo – something permanent by its nature – filled you with a thrill in the knowledge that your body would behold this piece throughout your lifetime, etched into your being. Something to remind yourself of who you were in this moment, as well as a piece of your soul you could share with others. Your heart literally on your sleeve, if you so chose.
Suffice it to say you were one to do your due diligence when it came to the permanent things.
