#Tom Parker Bowles

[royal-confessions]

“The fact that William has animosity towards Tom Parker-Bowles, his step brother, to the point where he’d rather skip Christmas at Sandringham and spend it with the Middletons really bothers me. What kind of a king he will be if he cannot manage his own emotions just for a couple days? Also; what has Tom PB ever done to him?” - Submitted by Anonymous

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla attends the book launch of her son Tom's new book 'Royal Recipes', London, 05.09.2024

[oakappleday]

I love this photo of her and Tom, from a 2001 Vanity Fair article

[heavyarethecrowns]

[camillafanfiction]

Love changes everything - Chapter 10

Camilla’s face was glowing as she cuddled against Charles’s bare chest. The rapture she felt in this very moment was written all over her face. This moment was perfect, no matter all other circumstances. They’d just made love again and Camilla couldn’t quite believe how good it had felt, still did. Charles had woken her with sweet kisses as he’d already been awake for quite some time. He simply couldn’t lie beside her without wanting to touch her, he couldn’t have felt her breath somewhere near his mouth without wanting to kiss her, and he couldn’t have kissed her without wanting to save her. He wanted to save her from her fear of the future, save her from worries she had about the house and Tom and all the other small things she coped with on her own. 

Though morning, it was dark and cloudy outside on this December day, but with Camilla in his arms Charles felt like spring had just sprung. He had so longed for being close to her in that way again, he had so hoped she was enjoying it, too, that it still felt surreal to him that it had actually happened now. Twice. Yesterday night and now this morning again. She felt so soft, so warm, so very wonderful. She smiled at him as he gently stroked through her golden hair. “I might just have to stock up on the condoms if you insist on using them now,” Charles smirked and placed a kiss on her curls.

Camilla laughed quietly and kissed Charles’ manly chest. “You might just…,” she agreed pensively. She still didn’t want to think too much about where all of this was leading up to, but right now she was too happy to give the darker thoughts a way. Charles was the gentlest man she could imagine and before she’d get back to real life in a few hours she could just enjoy this magical fairytale. 

“Why though?” he quizzed her. “Is the pill itself not safe anymore?”

Camilla startled, she hadn’t quite expected that question and it felt like a punch in the gut. It ripped her out of the fairytale and catapulted her into harsh reality. Tears arose in her eyes, she just couldn’t help it, and Charles saw them though she tried to gulp them down. Usually, she wasn’t one to cry easily but somehow this whole situation felt utterly absurd.

“Darling?” he asked with a slight panic in his voice. What had he done? It was just a simple question and it was born out of genuine interest. She should feel safe with him. He heard her sniffling and then dared looking into her watery eyes again. “What is it?” With gentleness he brought his arms around her.

Charles was not going to like this, Camilla knew, but he deserved to know the truth, though, in fact, it was the most normal thing on this planet. She wiped a tear away, trying to push the unwanted thought about what could have been away. “I’m not on the pill anymore. Andrew and I… we were… we were trying to have another child…”

For a moment Charles’ world tumbled. She had wanted to extend her family with Andrew. Of course she had wanted to, she had been married to him, and she had loved him no matter how badly and disrespectfully he had treated her throughout their short marriage. It was a matter of course that they had tried to have another baby. Had Camilla been his wife he’d wanted the same… Still it made him feel miserable. “Oh…” was all that escaped his mouth. He suddenly felt embarrassed for so many unreasonable things. “Milla, I am-”

“It doesn’t do well to dwell in the past…” Camilla uttered cryptically. “All we have is now,” she added and hugged Charles tightly. He was her saving grace. He was the one thing that was real, even if just in that moment. X

18th December 1975

Tom‘s first birthday knocked Camilla off. She had dreaded that day far in advance but hadn‘t really spoken about it to anyone. How was this sweet little boy supposed to grow up without a father? Of course she had Mark and her own father and, of course, Charles, but none of them could be a constant figure in his life. Mark was travelling all over the world most times, her father lived two hours away and Charles, though he filled in the role of a father perfectly well, would have to marry someone someday and whoever it was going to be, surely wouldn‘t be too happy about the prince being a father figure to his godson. So maybe it was better for Tom not to get too attached to the man his mother loved. If only Andrew would still be here and would be able to see his son turning one. Camilla couldn’t help but cry. She still missed Andrew, she still wished he would just come through the door, she still would happily cope with all of his clangers and affairs if it meant he would be there to protect her and their son. Yes, she loved Charles, she loved being with him and Tom, but she worried about the future. Their split would be inevitable one fine day, though Charles didn’t seem to think about it at all. 

Almost her whole family had gathered at Bolehyde Manor, but Andrew’s family remained notably absent. Camilla’s father-in-law, Derek, turned 60 today and, despite the circumstances, hosted a luncheon at his own manor today. While Andrew had always thought it was rather funny that his father and son shared the same birthday, it seemed to bother Derek that this particular day wasn’t solely his anymore. To her very surprise, Camilla had received an invitation for that very luncheon but had declined due to obvious reasons. She had never gotten on very well with her in-laws anyway, so Tom’s birthday and the whole situation came as a ‘good’ excuse. Charles wasn’t there either, quite to her relief. She hadn’t told anyone about the revival of her relationship with Charles, nobody would understand it, not so soon after all the things that had happened in October, and not by looking at the prospects of it. Maybe their glances or the way they interacted with each other would have given away too much. Annabel and Rosalind had already lauded Charles for being such a doting godfather since Andrew’s passing anyway. 

X 

Trevor was sunken into work over his desk when the prince came in with an impatient foot. “Have they delivered yet?“ he wanted to know. 

“No Sir,“ Trevor shook his head. “But I’ve collected it earlier today. It’s in the car already.“

“Without any of the Christmas presents, right?“ 

“Yes, Sir, of course,“ Trevor confirmed. 

Charles had done some Christmas shopping the past few weeks and had, of course, also thought of a birthday present for his godson Tom. He had decided on a giant teddy bear he’d seen at Hamleys’ - it just seemed the perfect present for Tom and for Camilla, too. Maybe she’d love to cuddle up to it when he couldn’t be around - like now. They hadn’t seen much of each other the past 10 days, in fact just once, as the royal calendar was even more packed than usual in the run up to Christmas. Of course, they had talked on the phone as often as possible but it wasn’t the same as being together. Charles wondered how he’d once been able to be without her or not having any contact with her at all after her wedding. This morning he’d woken raging with desire for her and had only been able to think about how he wanted to be the first thing she’d touch in the morning and the last thing she’d taste at night. She was, quite simply, the air he breathed, the water he drank and the blood in his veins, she was everything to him. 

“Marvellous!,” he stated joyfully and off he went to his Aston Martin where the teddy bear was already waiting for him in the passenger seat. Camilla surely didn’t really expect him to skip Tom’s first birthday, especially now, did she? She’d asked him not to come because of her family, but, to him, it was a matter of course to be there. They surely could act like friends for a few hours, couldn’t they? Camilla was going to be happy about his surprise visit, Charles was sure. 

X

Quite to his disappointment Camilla didn’t appear to be as pleased about him standing at her door as he thought she’d be. “What are you doing here?,” she’d hissed at him before she’d placed a swift soft kiss on his lips. Of course she was happy to see him, more than that, but she wasn’t happy about being forced to put on a show, least so in front of her parents and especially her grandmother Sonia. She had her own thoughts about their friendship and Charles being a godfather of Tom anyway. On top of it, she could be a very frightening figure, and seemed to be able to see through way more things than the average person.

Apart from Camilla, everyone else seemed to be very pleased with Charles’ sudden appearance, though Rosalind suddenly started to worry about her hair and the way the house looked; in her eyes everything had to be perfect for such a royal visitor.

With eagle eyes Sonia observed how her oldest granddaughter interacted with the Prince of Wales, a kind and soft young man, so much like his grandfather, whom she’d met before. She very well noticed how both of them tried to stay away from the other though their bodies were attracting each other like magnets, how they tried to avoid even the most fleeting touches, how their eyes still found each other for the wink of an eye even though they were trying not to look. Indeed, it was the eyes, Sonia knew. The secret of love was in the eyes. The way one of them looked at the other, the way their eyes communicated and spoke when their lips didn’t move at all. She had noticed it before, during Andrew’s funeral and the funeral meal afterwards, though Camilla had been more repellent back then. Now it seemed like when he moved a certain way, she did too, even without looking, and vice versa.

Sonia liked Charles, and in another life he and her granddaughter would have made a lovely couple, but this would only end in tears for both of them if they weren’t going to be careful. She knew Charles’ grandmother was searching for a perfect bride already and Camilla definitely wasn’t the one she was looking for. Sonia knew, too, that Camilla knew, but she wasn’t so sure about the young prince… As Camilla left the room to look after the birthday boy and to bring him for his royal godfather to see - as he’d just woken from his nap - it almost felt like Charles decreased without her presence, but bloomed again the second she came back with her son in her arms.  

Camilla had done so well since that dreadful day in October and Sonia couldn’t help but feel proud of her. Her daughter Rosalind and her son-in-law Bruce had raised an amazingly strong, independent young woman. Only few women these days would be able to carry on the way Camilla did. It was obvious she was fond of the support the prince had offered her, but Sonia was sure she wouldn’t have done any worse without him. If only she’d be careful not to end up like her own mother, Alice, who’d become famous for being the Prince of Wales’ mistress. Camilla deserved better, so hopefully, she’d cut the strings before it’d be too late for her.

Charles’ eyes lit up as he saw Camilla coming back with Tom in her arms. She wore a woollen, dark pink dress that made her look absolutely fantastic. She looked a little stressed and tired, Charles noticed, but it didn’t degregate her beauty in any way. To him, she’d always be beautiful. To him she’d always be perfect. He’d love her in any world, with any past, in any shape. Forever.  

Eagerly Charles stepped towards them, he finally wanted to give the little boy a cuddle and surprise him with the giant teddy afterwards. But when Tom spotted Charles he excitedly wriggled in Camilla’s arms and then burbled “Da-da!” and smiled brightly at Charles.

Within a second the whole atmosphere changed: Camilla got the collywobbles and turned pale, Rosalind turned ashy grey, Bruce tensed, Annabel gulped and Charles turned bright red. Just Sonia sat there as if nothing had happened, pretending she hadn’t heard anything. “Anybody in the mood for champagne?,” she asked. 

[queencamillaspam]

[backtonormallife]

People are complaining about Tom PB publishing historical royal recipes? Would they be ok if someone else did this?

[ivovynckier]

If Kate Middleton doesn't return and Harry's just a "spare", can the food critic become king?

[royalpain16]

[royal-confessions]

“Camilla's son Tom Parker Bowles is ghastly looking for real. Probably has a ghastly character too. He is throwing f-bombs in interviews, praising Jeremy Clarkson. Yikes.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla attends the second Reading Room Literary Festival at Hampton Court Palace, London, 08.06.2024

[oakappleday]

A self-described “geek”, he adored the research – chancing upon 100-year-old biscuit recipes kept at Windsor – and was granted access to the kitchens and libraries of some of the royal archives (go figure). It’s a family affair at this point. “Yeah, I know full well: nepotism, blah, blah, blah. Fair game,” he says, meaning it. “But I thought, ‘You know what? In my defence, I can say that I’ve had 25 years of keeping away from it. If I’d come in and said, ‘Hey, guys. This is going to be the exclusive royal family cookbook’, I think that would be a bit of a sellout. But I approached it as I approach every other book.”

[heavyarethecrowns]

[news-buzz]

Queen Camilla's son drops F-bomb in foul-mouthed rant at celebrity bash | UK | News News Buzz

Queen Camilla’s son told “virture signallers” to “f*** off” in a rant while hosting a black tie dinner in Canary Wharf.  Tom Parker-Bowles reeled off many other distastes while on stage hosting the Santa Rita Cigar Smoker of The Year Dinner and Awards in Canary Wharf in London. The food critic listed various things that bring him joy, such as cigars and wine, before laying in to those which…

[nino-rox]

PETER PARKER | BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS | M | GENDER NEUTRAL READER

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Mature/Explicit, Gender Neutral Reader, Tom Holland As Spider-Man, Not Proof Read

DISCLAIMER: Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post.

(Author’s Note: Requested by Anonymous user. My first time writing headcanons, I’ve barely even read any so I’m sorry if it’s not great ! Please request for more ! )

~What dating Parker feels like on a day to day basis

THE SKYLIGHT CATASTROPHE

One night, there’s a thud loud enough to rattle the walls, followed by an ominous silence. You know exactly what’s happened even before Peter pokes his head through the window, windswept and grinning sheepishly.“So, uh… surprise! You have a new skylight!”

You cross your arms, unimpressed. “You broke my roof again?”“Okay, technically, it was already fragile. I just… sped up the process.”

The next morning, you find him on the roof, duct tape and webs in hand, muttering to himself like he’s crafting a masterpiece.“Peter, you’re going to fall.”He waves you off without even looking up. “Relax! You’re being ridiculous. I’m Spider-Man—I won’t fall. Skylights are all the rage anyway. Just think of it as me upgrading your house for free!”

Right as he says it, his foot slips, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself with a web against the gutter.“SEE? I caught myself!” he says triumphantly, cheeks flushed as he steadies himself.

You stare at him, appalled. “Peter, I’m not worried about you, you blithering idiot. I’m worried about my house! Fall on the road and break your head if you want, but I swear to god, if you break my house again—”

“Noted. No more house-breaking. Promise. Bob the Builder’s retired anyway,” he grins.

WEBBED LAUNDRY

You pull a ruined hoodie out of the wash—bright red, stretched beyond recognition, and sticky with web fluid. Marching into the living room, you hold it up like evidence.“Peter! Why is my hoodie fused with web glue?”

Peter looks up from the couch, cereal bowl in hand, his eyes widening. “Ohhh… yeah, about that…”

You glare, waiting.

“I, uh, might’ve had to yank my suit off super quickly after patrol last night—it was covered in webs—and I didn’t realize it stuck to your hoodie in the laundry pile.”

You narrow your eyes. “You didn’t realize?”

Peter sets the bowl down, flashing a nervous grin. “Look, web fluid is mostly water-soluble! If we wait a day, it’ll dissolve!”

You groan, holding up the ruined fabric. “It better dissolve. Or you’re buying me a new hoodie.”

Peter slides an arm around your waist, grinning. “Or… we could share this one? Exclusive Spider-Merch for my favorite person.”

THE GREAT SPIDER-MAN’S HANDYMAN FAILS

You and Peter finally move in together, which should have been exciting—except unpacking with Spider-Man is a nightmare.“Peter, where’s the box with the kitchen stuff?” you ask, arms crossed.

Peter scratches the back of his head, sheepishly pointing to a corner. “Uh… it’s webbed to the ceiling. I thought it’d save space?”

You sigh. “Okay, fine. But why is there a Spider-Tracer in the toaster?”

He grins nervously. “Security measure?”

Later, you catch him trying to web a shelf together instead of using screws.“PETER!”“What? This is structurally sound!”

THE HOODIE INCIDENT

Peter freezes when he sees you curled up in his hoodie, sleeves hanging past your hands.“You stole it again?”“Finders keepers.”

He steps closer, voice low and teasing. “Looks better on you anyway.”

Before you can respond, he tackles you onto the couch, hovering over you with a grin.“You’re not keeping it.”“Make me.”

MORNING HEATWAVE SNUGGLES

You wake up tangled in Peter’s limbs, his face buried in the crook of your neck. It’s cozy—until you realize he’s a human heater.“Peter. Let me go. I have stuff to do.”

“Five more minutes,” he murmurs, pulling you closer with ridiculous Spider-strength. “Spider-Boyfriend privilege.”

“You smell like sweat and bad decisions.”

Peter chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “Want me to make another bad decision?” His lips brush your jaw as his voice drops, teasing. “I can make you sweaty too.”

Heat flares in your cheeks, but you manage to mutter, “You’re impossible.”

His smirk is pure trouble as he rolls you onto your back. “And you love it.”

SWINGING FOR BEGINNERS

The first time Peter suggests swinging with you, you laugh nervously. “No way. I like my life.”“It’s safe! You’ll love it—I promise.”

The moment he scoops you into his arms and leaps off the edge, you scream loud enough to wake half of Queens.“PETER, I SWEAR—”

“You’re fine!” he calls out, laughing as the wind whips past. “Just enjoy the ride!”

You bury your face in his shoulder, heart pounding. “I’m never letting go. Ever.”

Peter grins, holding you tighter. “Good. I wasn’t planning to let you go anyway.”

ROOFTOP MIDNIGHT ESCAPES

Peter swings into your room after patrol, his suit half-off, hair wild from the wind. “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere.”

Before you can finish protesting, he sweeps you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.“Peter!” you yelp, clutching his shoulders as he shoots a web and leaps into the night.“Trust me, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his grin softening.

The wind whips past, adrenaline rushing through your veins as he swings effortlessly between buildings. When you finally land on a rooftop, he pulls you close, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not scared, are you?”“Not anymore,” you whisper, and his smirk grows as his lips meet yours, slow and steady, grounding you after the thrill.

POST SWING MOMENTS

After a particularly daring swing where Peter narrowly dodges a billboard, he sets you down on a rooftop, his arms still firmly wrapped around your waist.“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice low as his thumb brushes your cheek.“I’m fine, Peter. You can let go now.”

He doesn’t. His grip tightens, and his voice drops to a husky whisper. “You have no idea how hard it is to let you go.”

Your breath catches as his lips brush yours softly at first, then with increasing intensity. His hands slide to your lower back, pulling you closer until the world disappears around you.

“SHH, I’LL MAKE IT WORTH IT.”

Peter returns from patrol late at night, finding you half-asleep on the couch. He crouches down, brushing a kiss to your temple.“You awake?” he whispers.

You mumble something incoherent, only stirring when his lips brush yours again, this time slower, more deliberate.“Shh,” he murmurs, pinning your wrists gently above your head. His grin turns playful as he leans closer. “I’ll make it worth keeping you awake.”

Your heart races as his kisses deepen, trailing down the side of your neck. “You’re impossible,” you manage to say, though the way your breath hitches betrays you.

“And you love it,” he murmurs, his lips pressing firmly against your pulse, his smirk growing when you shiver under his touch.

SHOWER?

Peter comes home sweaty and grimy after patrol, and you shove him toward the shower. Minutes later, his head pokes out, water dripping over his shoulders as he leans lazily against the doorway.“You know… showers are more efficient with two people,” he says, his grin pure trouble.

You roll your eyes, turning back to your book. “Peter, no.”

He steps closer, letting water drip from his still-damp hair onto your shoulder as he leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “You sure? I could scrub your back… or hold you against the tiles.”

Your cheeks burn, and you push him away half-heartedly, glaring. “Peter—”

He catches your wrist, pulling you to stand, his eyes locked on yours. “What?” he murmurs, tilting his head, his smirk teasing but his touch firm. “You’d look cute all wet.”

“Stop!” you squeak, swatting his chest, but he’s already laughing, pressing a kiss to your temple before finally retreating back to the bathroom.“I’ll leave the door unlocked, just in case,” he teases before disappearing behind the steam.

DATE

Peter had promised to meet you at the café after your shift. You’d been looking forward to it all day—just a simple hour with him, no superheroes, no chaos. But an emergency call from Ned about some escaped tech left you waiting alone, watching the minutes tick by.

When Peter finally arrived, his hair disheveled and guilt written all over his face, you didn’t even need to ask.“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice tinged with desperation. “There was this thing—Ned needed help—and I couldn’t just leave it—”

“It’s fine,” you said sharply, though your tone betrayed your disappointment. “I get it. You have other responsibilities.”

His shoulders slumped. “No, it’s not fine,” he muttered. “I messed up. And I know it’s not the first time.”

You sighed, softening as you saw the guilt etched across his face. “Peter…”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, almost pleading. “Just… give me a chance.”

Later that night, he showed up at your window with a bouquet of daisies that looked like they’d survived a tornado and a homemade playlist.“I know it’s not much,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “But these reminded me of you—bright and sweet. And I put all your favorite songs on here, so… I hope it makes up for me being a total idiot.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the flowers, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“Lucky you think I’m cute,” he teased, kissing your temple. “I’ll do better next time. Promise.”

TRIVIA NIGHT

Ned had invited you both to trivia night, but no one warned you how competitive Peter could get. It started innocently enough, with Peter rattling off science and history facts like a human encyclopedia. But when the questions shifted to pop culture, his confidence started to falter.

“You’ve never seen Mean Girls?” you asked, incredulous.“Uh, no?” he replied, looking genuinely confused.MJ rolled her eyes. “Peter, how do you even function as a person?”“I fight bad guys!” he defended, flustered. “I don’t have time for… whatever this is!”

As the final round approached, you noticed the way Peter’s brows furrowed, his shoulders tensing like he was about to swing into battle. Leaning over, you cupped his face gently, forcing him to meet your gaze.“Peter,” you said, your voice teasing but warm, “you’re cute when you’re losing.”

His jaw dropped, and before he could protest, you kissed him in front of everyone.

Ned let out a dramatic gasp. “In public? With witnesses?!”MJ snorted. “That’s disgusting. I’m rooting for you two.”

When you pulled back, Peter’s face was a brilliant shade of red, but the grin he gave you was dazzling.“I don’t even care if I lose now,” he whispered, leaning in for another kiss. “This is so worth it.”

HANDMADE

Peter had been acting strange all week—fidgety, distracted, and overly secretive. You were starting to wonder if something was wrong when he showed up at your door with a small, carefully wrapped box and a sheepish grin.

“What’s this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he practically shoved it into your hands.“Just… open it,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Inside was a sleek black flashlight, surprisingly lightweight, with a small engraved spider emblem on the side. You turned it over in your hands, curious.

“It’s not just a flashlight,” Peter said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh, noticed you sometimes leave the light on at night, and I thought… maybe this would help.”

Your chest tightened. He’d picked up on your fear of the dark without you ever telling him outright.

“It’s also kind of… Spider-Man-approved,” he added, gesturing nervously. “There’s a tracker inside, so I’ll always know where you are. And if you press the button three times really fast, it sends an SOS directly to me.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of it all. “Peter…”“I just want you to feel safe,” he said softly, his brown eyes earnest. “Even when I’m not around. You’re my world, and I want you to have something to remind you that I’m always here for you.”

Your throat felt tight as you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“‘Thank you’ works,” he joked, though his voice was thick with emotion.

Pulling back, you met his gaze and smiled. “Thank you, Peter. I love it. And I love you.”

His face lit up, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you close. “I love you too. Always.”

SPILLING

Peter had always admired how hard you worked. While he juggled Spider-Man and school, you balanced late-night shifts, studying at your rundown public school, and still somehow found time to make him feel like the center of your world. But admiration wasn’t the only thing he felt—sometimes, he felt inadequate.

On the other hand, you often wondered how you ended up with someone like Peter Parker. He was a literal superhero, acing advanced physics while you struggled with Algebra II. You worked part-time jobs just to help keep the lights on at home, and there were days when you felt like you’d drown under the weight of it all.

That tension finally bubbled over one evening. Peter swung by your place unannounced, but his usual warmth was absent. He dropped onto your couch with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“You okay?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He shook his head, staring at his hands. “How do you do it?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“Everything,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “You don’t have superpowers, or Stark tech, or a fancy school helping you out. And you’re still… incredible. You’re better at life than I am, and I’ve got every advantage.”

The words stung—not because of what he said, but because they mirrored your own insecurities.

“What are you trying to say?” you asked, your voice cracking as you braced yourself for what felt inevitable.

Peter hesitated, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. “You deserve someone who can keep up with you. And I’m not sure I’m enough.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop them, tears began streaming down your cheeks. “Wait, are you saying this is over?”

“What? No!” Peter sat up straight, his hands shooting out to reach for yours. “That’s not what I meant! I’m talking about me, not you! I’m the one who’s not enough!”

“You are enough!” The words burst out of you, but the crack in your voice betrayed how deeply his statement had shaken you. “I’m the one who’s not enough, Peter. Look at you! You’re saving lives while I’m just trying to keep the lights on at home.”

Peter’s brows furrowed, guilt flooding his features. “What? No—no, don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” you whispered, pulling your hands free and wrapping your arms around yourself. “I can barely make it through my shifts without wondering if I’m going to mess something up. And then I see you—perfect Peter Parker, superhero and genius—and I just… I feel so small.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you. Then Peter moved closer, carefully placing his hands on your shoulders. “You’re not small,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping your eyes. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Peter insisted, gently tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. “You don’t have powers, but you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You care about people. You care about me. And I…” He trailed off, his voice breaking. “I don’t always feel like I deserve that.”

Your breath caught at the raw vulnerability in his words. “You don’t have to be perfect, Peter. You don’t have to save me, or prove anything. I just want you.”

He stared at you, his eyes glistening. “I want you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry I made you think otherwise. I just… I don’t always know how to keep up with someone like you.”

“We’re both trying to keep up,” you said quietly, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. “And that’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

Peter nodded, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Together.”

The two of you sat like that for a long time, the weight of your shared insecurities fading, replaced by something stronger—a quiet, unshakable love.

SERIOUS

Peter comes home late—bruised, bleeding, and far too casual about it. You snap.“Do you like scaring me to death?”“It’s just a scratch!” he argues, dropping his mask on the couch.“Peter, you’re not invincible. What happens if one day you don’t come back?”

He pauses, guilt flickering across his face. “I can’t stop being Spider-Man.”“And I can’t stop worrying about you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He looks away, fiddling with his web-shooter. “I don’t want to scare you. I’m sorry.”

MAYBE NOT SO SERIOUS?

Later that night, Peter finds you sitting on the fire escape, staring out at the skyline. He hesitates before sitting beside you.“I hate fighting with you,” he says quietly. “You’re the only person who makes all of this feel worth it.”

You exhale slowly, leaning into him. “Then don’t make me feel like I’m losing you.”His arm wraps around you, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll do everything I can to come home to you. That’s a promise.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and when his lips brush yours, it’s soft and full of unspoken apologies.

THANK YOU FOR READING ! PLEASE SEND KINKMAS REQUESTS AND PROMPTS! <3 Please Request if you’d like me to expand the headcanon into SMUT <3

[backtonormallife]

I'm going to say something controversial - It would be great to see Camilla's kids either at Christmas or Easter.