#I’ve made so many mug omelettes and they’re always so much better than making an omelette in a pan

[shego1142]

This is very important, it’s always been a huge blow to me as an autistic person to get priced out of my special interests

it happened so often when I was a child that it lead to me being disheartened and frustrated

and I would often feel almost as though there wasn’t a “safe” hobby/special interest for me to have, since the experience of it being able to interact with my special interests was so painful.

Both hobbies and special interests should absolutely be accessible!

Also! Just in case anyone is wondering, and I am not kidding, if you want a really good and impressive omelette that will please most peeps palate’s?

You can cook a genuinely good omelette in a mug in the microwave. It’s incredibly cost effective and very easy!

Hobbies need to be accessible. I believe that it’s becoming more and more important for people to have physical hobbies that create real things and develop real skills–giving people a sense of accomplishment and overcoming feelings of helplessness. But so often, it seems like even beginner-level instruction is aimed at making the entry barrier as high as possible.

I was reading this book where this guy argues that people should develop areas of “micromastery” when getting into a hobby. Find one small, achievable, but still impressive task to master, so you have a cool skill to show off (and the sense of accomplishment) without having to master an entire huge area of knowledge. Instead of learning to cook, learn to create a really good omelet. Instead of learning an entire new language, learn to count to ten. And then you have a knowledge base to help you if you want to explore further. Seems very common sense. Very accessible. Learning is for everyone, not just people who want to devote tons of time to a new hobby. But even that guy, in his instructions, keeps telling people to buy the most expensive equipment to have the best possible results. There’s even a point where he says “the more expensive, the better”!

That infuriates me. I am enraged. The guy who’s trying to make learning accessible to the masses is now saying this is the realm only of the rich! It’s telling people to buy into the marketing ploy that more expensive is automatically better! It’s absurd. It’s insane. There probably is equipment that improves the outcome of the final product, but it’s not necessarily the most expensive stuff, and you certainly don’t need the expensive stuff when you’re just starting out!

Yet, tutorials and craft books keep pushing this message. If you want to start drawing, you need an expensive sketch book and seven different pencils and different weights of pen, and the right eraser. If you want to bake, you have to have the best flours and the appropriate sourdough technique. If you want to knit, you better have the expensive yarn. That’s garbage, and it makes things more difficult than they need to be.

When you’re just starting out, you’re learning if you even like the activity. Do I like spending time drawing? Do I even like the process of knitting or woodworking or building model airplanes? It’s pointless to spend tons of money on good yarn only to find that you hate the process of knitting. Pointless to get the good pencils when the process of drawing makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

If you want to try something, just try it! As simply and cheaply as possible. Want to draw? Get a free pencil and a bit of notebook paper. Want to knit? Get a pair of knitting needles from the thrift store and some dollar store yarn. As you get deeper into the hobby, you’ll probably want to upgrade your supplies–but now that you know more about the process, you know what problems can be solved by better supplies.

I was always intimidated by bookbinding–the tutorials always talked about having the right glue and the right book press–until a guy in the comments said, “I use Elmer’s Glue and my laptop.” I could manage that! That was accessible! I got some glue and some big textbooks and made a book! Not perfect, but it wouldn’t have been perfect even if I had the fancy supplies–I was just starting out! And then I figured out that a paper cutter and some kind of tool to smooth the endpapers would be useful. So I got that–as cheaply as possible. I have made books and I have enjoyed it without a huge investment in time and money. And more tutorials need to take that approach. I refuse to believe that we have to give tons of money to the crafting industry. I refuse to believe that we have to be consumers in order to become creators.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH02

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: Really fluffy. 

WC: 3109

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean tries to be quiet, he really did, but as old houses are, the stairs creak underneath his weight when he descends. He flinches, squints his eyes and moves faster, trying his best to make himself feather light, and absolutely fails.

He hops off the last step, walks into the kitchen on his bare feet, makes a cup of coffee. He knows that he needs to get back to work when he wants to finish the house on time but Y/N’s so damn distracting.

Especially when she takes naps during the day because she’s more tired than she’s ever been. In fact, she’s even more tired now than when she was in her first Trimester, which is weird but what does he know, he doesn’t have to deal with the hormones so all he does is shut the hell up and let her sleep.

They’re only at half time, something over five months.

When she feels really tired, she likes to take baths to relax and then taking naps after, and Dean hates that. Absolutely super hates it. Can’t stand how he can’t help but join her. Not always with the baths but certainly with the naps.

It first started two months into her pregnancy when they were still painting her art room. She would start to paint and after a couple of hours she’d ask him if it was okay for her to go lie down. When he checked on her later, she was grinning at him from inside of the bathtub with foam all over her face. 

That first time that he discovered her in the tub when she was supposed to go lie down, he couldn’t help but jump right into the tub with her, sat her on his hard cock and let her fuck herself on him. He took her out and laid her down after, ate her out before her body was even dry. 

Their sex life was not boring by all means, but since she’s pregnant she became insatiable. 

Dean would lie if he said that he minded it. 

And if he can’t fuck her with his cock (honestly, she can really wear him out), he fucks her with his fingers (sometimes he thinks that carpal tunnel syndrome is on his horizon), and if his fingers and hands get tired, he eats her out until his jaw cramps up. Like he said, he doesn’t mind. It’s not like they’re going about it like rabbits. They don’t do it every day either but once she starts, it’s hard for her to stop.

So since then, she’s been taking naps and he naps with her. It’s tempting to just stay in bed all day, kissing, cuddling, making love, sleep. And if she wasn’t pregnant and they wouldn’t expect a little baby in roughly five months time, he wouldn’t even care about the house, but Dean needs to get things going if he wants to finish it. 

Sometimes, Sam comes around to help. Jess’s pregnant too. Is even ahead of Y/N by a month. So whenever Sam’s over, Dean would drink a beer with his brother and they exchange their thoughts and worries. Dean’s gotten much better at talking nowadays. 

Bobby showed up once too, and Gabe whenever he’s free and then Gabe would help Dean out. He gets so much done when Gabe’s here. It’s the ease of having worked together for so many years that makes a difference to Gabe and Sam. Also Gabe is no fucking pain in Dean’s ass like Sammy is. 

But most of the time, they’re on their own in their little house with a view to a sky full of stars. It’s never dull around here either. She’d find ways to get on his nerves and he might not even do it on purpose but he apparently can annoy the fuck out of her as well. Dean apparently talks too loud. Or he chews too loud. Or brushes his teeth too loud. Every little thing can be too loud. The hormones are fucking with her senses.

He drinks his coffee, it’s caffeinated. He once tried to sneak in decaf coffee but she just sat there and stared at the mug and started to cry. So he gave up on it, because she limits her intake. She already had one this morning so Dean gulps down his, burning his tongue off, but it’s better for her not to see him drink it. It’s also better for him. 

While he’s standing in the kitchen, he decides to make lunch. Cooks up some pasta with homemade sauce and he’ll chop up some veggies to throw it in with.

Dean’s chopping away at a bell pepper when he feels arms coming around his middle, her face pressing into his spine, right in between his shoulder blades. 

“Mmh,” Y/N mumbles into his back, he feels her voice vibrating along his spine. Her little bump’s pressed into his lower back. “Smells good.”

Dean grins, but doesn’t stop chopping, “Me or the food?”

“Food.” She says and he can feel her chuckle on his back.

“Not me?” 

Her hands brush along his stomach, feathery strokes travel down to the waistband of his sweats, and then she strokes along his clothed cock. Dean holds in his breath. “Baby, I’m chopping something here.”

He abandons the knife though, because he’s not dumb and is not risking chopping his own hand off when she palms him through his pants.

“You always smell good, that’s not fair.” 

It’s Dean's turn to grin. He takes her hand from his cock — that grows hard just from her touching it and it's still the same, he can’t not get hard when he’s around her — and turns around, picks her up and sits her on the kitchen island on the other side of the stove.

She’s pouting, just like he thought she would be. 

He stands between her legs, his hands on her thigh and around the small of her back as he looks up to meet her eyes, cranes his neck to kiss her pout away. 

She wraps her hands around his neck and Dean likes how she plays with the short hair there. 

“What are you cooking?” Y/N asks and nuzzles her nose against his chin.

“I’m making pasta.”

Her hand comes around his face, fingers scratching at his scruff and then she says, “I was thinking—”

“—No,” It came out of Dean a little too fast, can’t help it because he knows what she’s going to say. 

He knows her better than he knows himself, he told her once and it’s still true. He knows that she’s pregnant and has cravings and she really almost never wants to eat the thing he cooks her. Even though she’s okay with it first but then she changes her mind, wants something else and after she takes a couple of bites of said something else, she changes her mind again. It’s driving him fucking crazy is what it is.

The old Dean might have been mad, might tell her to fucking make up her mind but the new Dean is taking everything in with patience and an easiness he never knew he had. The only thing that really annoys the living hell out of  him is that she mostly has cravings for things they don’t have in the house and he would have to go to the store to get it. But that’s on him too, because he doesn’t want her to drive in his car with no real seatbelt. She would then argue that they still have her car which is parked in the garage but they haven’t used it for a while and Dean doesn’t even know if it would still start up because unlike the time when she was gone for the year where Dean would take her car for a spin every other week to make sure it’s still running smoothly, he didn’t have the time nor desire to take her car for a spin since they moved, and however, that’s not really the point anyway. The point being, he doesn’t want her to drive at all, because he’s still scared of what could happen if she gets into another accident.

He bought a new car already, thinks of ditching his Baby every time he has to take his family out and about, opted for a big family van but it’s custom made and it takes another couple of weeks to be delivered.

“Hey, you don’t even know what I wanted to say.”

“Baby, I’m making pasta. I’m not going to the store again for your cravings. I’ve been twice this morning already and one time late last night.” Dean says, and it’s true. Last night she wanted her coconut ice cream and when he brought it back, she realized that her hormones made her not like the taste of coconut anymore and she ended up crying. That was a night ruined and Dean wished he didn’t even go out at all.

The next store is twenty minutes out and if Dean gives in every time she craves something, he will never get anything done around here. 

Y/N swats at his chest, but her lips curve into a playful smile, “‘M not telling that you should go to the store.” She leans forward then, pulls him closer by the back of his neck and he wraps his arms around her.

“Then tell me, I’m listening.”

“What would you say if I tell you to go out for a couple of hours in the evening.” She mumbles into the crook of his neck and that’s when Dean knows that she’s scared that he’ll be mad because she’s not able to look him in the eye.

He frowns a little, “Why do you want me to go out?” She hugs him tighter and that’s when he adds, “Am I crushing you? Do you need space?”

“No, everything’s okay. I just want to do something and I need you out of the house for a couple of hours. Cas will come pick you up.”

Dean frowns some more, “So, you actually already decided for me.”

She comes out of her hiding and is looking at him, a smile so bright it makes his heart leap. “Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, but only for the dramatic effect. “Okay, but don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Me? Something stupid?” She gasps with one hand on her chest, “Never!”

Dean begs to differ. There’s one time she drew a bath and forgot about it. They needed to exchange the flooring of the bathroom after. Or that time when she burned the omelettes because she was distracted by her book. Or that time when she came back from the store and placed the milk in the freezer and ice creams in the fridge. The list goes on and on, but Dean rather not list them off, because he couldn’t win the argument. 

She once said that she can’t even take care of herself and while that might not be true while she wasn’t pregnant, he thinks it’s true now. It if wasn’t for him, she would have flooded and burned the house to the ground by now.

“Liar,” He only grins at her, kisses her then before she can say anything else. 

Y/N’s sitting on the couch and strokes Bubbles while Truffles is lying on the floor when Dean comes down from taking a shower, she can hear him walking down the stairs, it creaks awfully loud under his weight. He told her that he wants to work on that too, so the baby wouldn’t wake up all the time when he’s going up and down the stairs.

Bubbles loves its new home, the cat especially loves the space, loves going out and roaming around, and has already made friends with other cats and of course Bubbles doesn’t mind Truffles at all, would sometimes let the dog lick her and the feeling is mutual.

She’s actually glad Dean agreed on getting a dog. She never knew that he would cave because he told her that he’s not really a dog person. Come to think of it, he’s also not really a cat person. He’s not really any kind of person except of her, he said that himself. Now he has to share her with a baby and he’s slowly working up to it. It’s not going to be easy but that little one will also be half his so she guesses that Dean will be able to work on his issue. That issue still being that he’s afraid someone could take her away from him. 

Dean is working on himself, she can see that. Sees it in how he’s much more relaxed and she likes that. Likes how he wakes up with a smile on his face everyday. Likes, how he smiles more in general, how he’s less grumpy. How he doesn’t have to work all night and come home with bloody shirts. 

Nowadays, the only stains on his shirts and pants are from renovating the house or pottery.

Yeah. Pottery.

They are sharing an art room now. He’s doing pottery in one corner of the art room. It’s one of Bobby’s friends, Rufus, who’s also Dean’s friend and a closet psychologist who suggested that Dean tries pottery to help calm him down when the storm inside of him takes over. 

Sometimes, Dean would come in when she’s painting, sits down wordlessly and starts to do pottery. She won’t say a word either. Will sit there and paint until she can see the crease between his eyebrows even out.

He’s so distracting when he does pottery, though. His fingers and arms work on the clay. Sexy is what it is. It gets her hot and bothered every time.

Dean walks into the living room, dressed in casual jeans and a plaid shirt, smelling good and the scent makes her light headed. 

Just when he bends down to kiss her, Cas rings at the gate. That’s right, they have a gate. Dean’s overprotective but she understands, considering who he was when she met him.

He pecks her nose, her forehead, places his hand on her belly and rubs at it. “I think that’s my date.”

“You have fun,” She breathes into the kiss and feels his lips widen into a grin.

“Fun? Without you?” 

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Dean leans lower, kisses her belly through the shirt. “Be good,”

She frowns a little, “The baby or me?”

“Both.” Dean boops her nose and gets up, walks to the door and is out.

*

After Dean has left, she takes a long shower, gets into fresh comfortable clothes and starts to prepare everything she needs. 

It’s going to be a surprise. Dean has always done so much for her. He always makes sure that she has everything she needs, and has devoted his life to keep her happy so that she would stay, so that he could keep her. Even though she told him that there’s really nothing that would drive her away from him anymore. Guess he still doesn’t believe it so he does the only thing he knows he can, twists and bends his life around to make room for her in it. To make room for their family.

She orders pizza, places mats on their terrace, sets up fairy lights. She actually wanted to use candles but Dean hid all of them because he doesn’t trust her to not burn the house down.

Two hours has passed and Dean should be home in a couple of minutes. She has an agreement with Cas to get him home as sober as possible. 

Y/N moves pillows and blankets from the couch out to the little camping site she created. The pizza arrived a couple of minutes ago either, so she takes it out with her. She’s hungry and takes a bite out of a slice, hoping Dean doesn’t mind that she started without him.

Like she thought, Dean walks in after she has finished her first slice, and he calls out for her. The house is dark, the only light source is out here and she hopes he gets it, follows the source out to where she is waiting for him.

“Babe?” He slips out onto the terrace, slides the screen door shut behind him.

His face is lit up by the moonlight and the little fairy lights. She sees him smile, it’s all white and wide. 

“Surprise,” She smiles back at him.

She waits for him to get out of his shoes and join her on the mat beside her. He places his hand on her shoulder, the tips of his thumb circles on the back of her neck as he pulls her in to kiss her temple. “Is that why you wanted me to go out?”

“Duh,” She grins and he kisses the grin away.

They dig into the pizza and she knows that she forgot something, so Dean has to get up and comes back out with napkins and two bottles of water.

After they ate, they lay down, his head on her shoulder, while he rubs at her tummy.

“You see the stars?” 

“Yeah,” She whispers.

“Thank you,”

“No, I have to thank you.” She says, tilts her head, kisses his temple, his scruff tickles her chin. “You’ve done so much for me so at least I can do something too, even if it’s just something small.”

“It’s something big, alright,” Dean cranes his neck, kisses her cheek, leaves his lips here, “You’re doing more for me than you know,” He’s about to say more but there’s something happening in her tummy, something that feels like gas bubbles that are locked in there. Like she’s had too much fizzy drink, only that she had none. She felt it a couple of times already but it’s the first time that he probably feels it too with his palm on her stomach.

Dean swallows.

“Is that?” He props himself up on his elbow, leans over her, and there’s one more bubbly feeling.

She smiles at him, nods her head and his smile spreads on his face, the crinkles around his eyes deepens. Y/N cradles his face with one hand, letting the pad of her thumb travel over the crinkles that she loves so much.

Dean kisses her then, still smiling and chuckling. 

“The baby’s probably excited to see the stars too.” She whispers into the kiss, wonders how long it’ll take for them to feel a real kick, for Dean to feel it.

CH03

[imagines-dreams]

A Few Days After Christmas - Peter Parker Imagine

Rating: PG

Warnings: kisses???, vague mentions of superhero stuff,

Summary: It’s your first Christmas with Peter in the new apartment. But despite all the joy in the air, there’s something off about Peter?

Word Count: 3494

You bit your lip and stared at everything on the counter. Everything was almost ready. Coffee, waffles with butter and syrup, a cup of fruit, and a hearty omelet. You just needed to make some coffee and some tea. Then, everything would be finished.

You put on some headphones and played light Christmas music. You had woken up early, seven in the morning to be exact, just to cook everything and prepare. It was finally Christmas, and it was the first Christmas you and Peter were celebrating in the apartment. You just… You wanted it to be perfect.

You danced around the kitchen, mouthing the lyrics to “Sleigh Ride” as you prepared the rest of breakfast.

You had the perfect presents, too. A leather-bound notebook with his initials carved into the front, a mini lightsaber keychain, a mug with a science pun you couldn’t understand, and a new bowtie. Hopefully, Peter would like it. You had bought other things too but ended up returning them when you had realized how much you’d spent. Peter would’ve been so mad at you if you spent so much.

You smirked. One day, you’d be able to get him something so expensive, maybe something that Mr. Stark would buy him.

“(Y/n)?”

You gasped. “Peter!” You handed him a cup of coffee and kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You fluidly moved into the kitchen and prepared a plate for him. “Waffles or omelet first?”

“Omelette. Wha…” Peter rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and squinted at you. “It’s nine. I always wake up before you.” He sat down at the table as he looked at the world with confusion.

“Except for today!” You placed his plate down in front of him and sat down next to him with your own meal in front of you. “Peter, today’s Christmas. Which means gifts and MJ’s party tonight.”

He blinked and smiled softly at you. “Absolutely beautiful.” He leaned forward and let his lips barely brush against yours. You smiled and pressed your lips against his in a lazy, slow kiss. It was a hard press of lips followed by your adorable boyfriend trying to kiss you deeply but failing to do so through his morning fog. He ended bumping his lips against yours and then kissing the corner of your lips before you pulled away, giggling. “Someone’s tired.”

He pouted. “(Y/n).”

You laughed and kissed him again.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/n).” He stared at the food in front of him. “You didn’t have to do this. I don’t need a fancy Christmas breakfast.”

You shrugged. “You deserve a fancy breakfast, Peter Parker. Now” -you tapped his nose- “enjoy.”

You excitedly watched as Peter maneuvered the drone through the apartment. “I can’t believe he left you the drone and the new suit.” You stared at the briefcase that contained the new edition of the Spider-man suit.

“Isn’t it awesome!” Peter jumped a little on the balls of his feet and watched in awe as the drone did tricks and flips in the air. Then, Peter settled it down on the counter. He read the instructions. “Karen?”

The drone lit up. “Hello, Peter. Hello, (Y/n).”

You gasped. “That’s so cool!” You leaned against the counter. “This is the Karen? Suit lady Karen?”

Peter laughed. “Yeah. Hey, Karen, what can you do as a drone?”

“I can retrieve and deliver things for you. Speaking of which, Peter, Mr. Stark wishes you luck.”

Your eyes widened. “Luck with what?” You pouted. “Don’t tell me there’s another mission today. It’s Christmas!”

Peter blushed and averted his gaze. “It’s not that, uh, it’s for something else.” He still didn’t meet your eyes.

You blinked. “Peter.”

“It is!” Peter sighed and kissed your forehead. “I promise, no missions til next week.” He suddenly smiled. “Now, I heard you had a gift for me?”

“Peter-”

“(Y/n), hey” - he held your hands and looked you straight in the eye- “I promise.”

You stilled for a while. You examined your boyfriend, someone who didn’t really lie well, but there was nothing to indicate that he was lying. His eyes showed no sign of discomfort or guilt. But, then again, could you really tell when his lips were so close to yours, his breath fanning against your nose and his eyes shining so brightly? You gulped. “Fine.”

He smiled. “Ok, so I heard something about presents.”

“You going to give me one, parker?”

“U-Uh, yeah, of course.” He backed away towards the bedroom. “I left it in the bedroom, so, uh, I’ll just get it.” Just like that, he disappeared into your bedroom.

You tilted your head. Peter did get nervous sometimes. Hopefully, he wasn’t too worried about Christmas. You didn’t expect much. You were just happy he was with you. Sometimes, he was missing from the holidays.

You shrugged it off and grabbed your present for him and sat on the pillow-covered floor. You licked your lips as you made sure everything was safe in the gift bag. The notebook, keychain, mug, bowtie.

“I got it.”

His voice threw you off. It sounded sad like he was disappointed in himself.You furrowed your brow. Peter was staring at your present with regret of some sort. You got up and held his hand. “Hey, the greatest present is having you here.” You kissed his cheek. “I love you, Peter.”

He smiled at you. “You’re too good for me.”

“Says the Avenger.” You laughed and pulled him to the floor. “Come on! I really want to see you open yours!”

Peter laughed and let himself be dragged by you. He gave you the box he had and opened his present. Peter’s lips curled a little at the ends. “(Y/n)...” He pulled out the notebook and traced his initials on the front.

“Well, don’t stop,” you laughed. “There are a few more things in there.”

Peter shook his head with a smile and pulled out the bowtie. “A periodic table bowtie?!”

“Keep looking.”

He gasped. “A lightsaber keychain.”

“One more.”

He pulled out another box, opened it, and read the captions. He laughed. “That’s such a bad pun!”

You sighed in relief. You knew he’d understand it, but there have been inaccurate published science puns. “You like it?”

“I love it!” Peter pulled you to him so that your back rested against his chest and kissed your head and cheeks and nose. “(Y/n), these are amazing.” He put on the periodic table bowtie. “I’m wearing this to the party later tonight.”

You giggled. “I’m glad.”

He gazed at you, getting lost in your eyes and the marks on your skin. He gently pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t really like the gift I picked for you.”

“Hey, I’m just happy you’re here.” You snuggled into his embrace and wrapped his arms around your waist. You brought your gift into your lap and tore away the colorful wrapping paper. The jewelry box was larger than your hand. Inside lay a bracelet that sparkled in the light. There were many silver charms on a silver chain with accents in your favorite color.

They weren’t random charms either. They were meticulously picked out. A charm for each of your favorite movies. A charm for each of your favorite artists. Then, there were the things from dates. One of the Eiffel tower, when Peter took you there for your two-year anniversary. One of a book, for the library for your first study date in senior year. One of a beaker, for your first kiss during a chemistry lab.

“Peter,” you gasped. “It’s beautiful.” You turned around. “How could you not like this gift? I love it.” You kissed him. “Peter, this” -you kissed him again- “is amazing.” You kissed him again and held his cheeks.

Peter smiled a little against your lips before kissing you back. Something was still off. His hands didn’t wander or grip. It was as if he was thinking of something else while kissing you. He was distracted. You pulled away. “Peter, are you ok?”

He gulped. “Just nervous,” he whispered. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “About what?”

He sighed. “The party.”

“Aw!” You pulled away and kissed him quickly. “I’m sure MJ’s fiancee will get along great with everyone and you. Ok?”

Peter smiled at you. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.” You laughed and kissed him again. “We better start getting ready, too.”

“MJ!”

“My one and only friend.” She pulled you into a hug and ushered you inside. Before Peter could enter, she blocked him. “I don’t see anything different. I wonder why.”

Peter blushed.

She shook her head. “I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”

Peter laughed awkwardly. “Oh god, I’m messing everything up at this point.”

“I know.” She poked his chest. “The thing is you’re going to mess up, but if I know anything about you, Peter Parker, you do great even when you do mess up.” She stepped to the side. “Good luck.”

You and Peter got home late from the party. “That was a great party,” you offered.

“Yeah.” He dropped the gifts the two of you received on the counter.

You bit your lip. He had been acting weird all day, and after seeing MJ and her future wife he seemed even more upset. “Peter, did you not like her? Is that it? You could talk to me.”

Peter stared at you, then he smiled. “No, no it’s just, uh, I’ve been having some bad thoughts lately.” He panicked. “Nothing happened! I swear, I just… I don’t know.” He ran his hands through his hair and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry it affected you.”

You smiled a little and hugged him. “Hey, it’s ok to feel bad.” You kissed his nose. “Why don’t we watch some sci fi movies?”

He giggled and rested his forehead against yours. “You’re the best.”

You and Peter were snuggled up on the couch. You knew Peter was nervous about something. He kept tapping his fingers against your side, and he kept glancing over at you as if to make sure you were still there. You had asked him twice if there was anything you could do, but he would just smile and kiss your forehead before telling you he was fine.

“I never got this part,” you whispered.

Peter blinked. “Uh, what part?”

“They’re in space right?”

“Yes.”

“So why is there gravity?” You pointed at the screen. ‘Those things are falling even though there’s no gravity, and it makes no physical sense.”

“That ship could have a big enough mass to have its own gravitational pull,” Peter offered.

“No.” You grabbed the remote and rewinded the movie. “See, it’s falling, but it’s not falling towards the ship, so even if it did have a gravitational pull, it wouldn’t fall that way.” You were met with silence. You glanced at him. “Peter?”

He stared at you in absolute awe. He was in a trance of some sort. Then, suddenly, his lips were on yours, eager and desperate to kiss you harder than the previous second.

You gasped, the kiss igniting something inside of you that made your toes curl and your mind go blank. You pulled Peter by his collar and kissed him back, moving your lips fluidly against his. The explosions from the screen only magnified both of your emotions and reflected the burst of love and passion from you two.

When you pulled away, you gasped for air. Then, you tugged at Peter’s collar again, wanting to feel that again.

“I love you.” Peter took slow, deep breaths. “So much.”

You smiled. “I love you, too.”

It was the day after Christmas, and Peter was still acting weird. He was unusually quiet and constantly fidgeting with something, his hair, his phone, a pen. You knew he had a tendency to daydream when he was feeling something extremely, but you weren’t sure what he was feeling.

“Peter?”

He hummed to acknowledge you, but he didn’t look up from his laptop.

You tapped his shoulder. “Peter, is everything ok?” You took note of the way he stopped tapping his fingers against the laptop to look at you. When he started to twirl his pen between his fingers, you said, “You’ve been a bit daydreamy lately.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n). I didn’t mean to. I have just been” -he laughed awkwardly- “uh, you know, occupied. I mean between MJ’s engagement, uh, Avenger stuff, and…” He trailed off and stared at the wall in front of you.

You gently looped your arm in his and leaned on his shoulder. “I know you’re busy, but I just want you to know I’m here.” His eyes met yours, and you could see that he desperately wanted to tell you something. My god, if he could just tell you. But you knew what being the girlfriend of a superhero entailed. Sometimes, he just couldn’t. You smiled up at him and rested your hand on his cheek. “Peter, whatever it is, please know that I love you and that you can talk to me about anything. If it’s really bothering you, screw Stark’s instructions. Tell me, or talk to him, or something.”

Peter closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. He put his hand on yours and sighed. “I know. It’s just, this thing… I can’t tell you. Not yet. I can’t.” He gazed at you, smiled a little, and kissed your hand. “Soon.”

It pained you to see him like that. Peter Parker had been through enough pain. He didn’t need anymore. “Ok, just promise me, it’s not hurting you too bad. And if it is, you’ll talk to someone.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

That night, Peter did talk to someone. When you were fast asleep, he closed his fake tabs and stared at his notes while you dozed off adorably beside him. He practiced and whispered to you, adjusting your hair and blankets when it looked uncomfortable.

If only you woke up and heard him.

A few days after Christmas, you woke up late. You groaned and covered your eyes all while searching for the familiar warmth of your boyfriend. His side of the bed was cold. You scrambled to get up, but there was no note on the nightstand.

You let out a sigh of relief. He was in the apartment. When Peter was on a mission, he always left a note.

“Hey, you.”

You blinked and beamed. “Peter.” He was carrying a tray of food. “What-”

“I thought some breakfast in bed?” Your boyfriend lifted the tray with a proud smile and set it down on your lap. “For us, I mean. Breakfast in bed.” He checked his watch. “Or brunch in bed I guess? I wanted to pay you back for Christmas. It’s not much, but hopefully, it’s ok.” He sat down beside you. “How did you sleep?”

You tilted your head. Now there was your rambling boyfriend. “I slept ok. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on!” he said in quite a high-pitched voice. “I just, I felt bad that you cook all of Christmas breakfast. I wanted to do something for you.”

You giggled. “This is more than enough, Peter.” With a bowl of fruit, french toast, pancakes, a hot drink, and a vase with a single rose in it, your brunch was definitely more than enough. “I didn’t know you cooked french toast.”

“Oh, well, uh, Karen helped a bit.”

“I knew it! You’re an excellent cook, Peter, and I love you, but you can’t cook french toast to save anyone.”

He laughed. “Ok, ok, I get it. Now, eat. I’m going to get my own tray and join you.” He kissed your nose. “Be right back.” He bolted out of the room with newfound energy.

You bit your lip to hide your smile. At least, he was feeling better.

Throughout the brunch Peter prepared for the both of you, the two of you happily talked about the newest technology Mr. Stark was going to debut as well as random stories about New Year’s. As the conversation went on, however, Peter started tapping his fork against his tray. He was nervous and feeling something. You took note and mentally reminded yourself to ask after brunch.

Before you took another bite, Peter spoke up, “Uh, remember how we met?”

You blinked a few times. “Uh, at college. We were part of a tutoring program.” You smiled as you pictured that moment. “You were that kid who obviously didn’t need tutoring.”

He shook his head. “Hey, physics is a bit confusing for everyone.” Peter sighed. “But, I remember you so clearly, not only because you had a beautiful voice when you had to answer questions, but also because you had a star wars notebook.” He intertwined his fingers with yours. “I knew I wanted to talk to you then. I was just so nervous.”

You nodded. “We’re lucky our tutor liked us together so much.”

“Yeah. Then, one thing led to another and…” Peter smiled a bright smile as he reminisced, images of your first date, kiss, movie night and everything pulled him into lovely daydreams.

You continued, “We became us.”

Peter’s eyes caught yours, and he suddenly couldn’t speak. You hadn’t even put on makeup or get out of your pajamas. Your breath smelled of all the things he cooked for you, and you were still the most beautiful thing on the planet.

He closed his eyes, shielding himself from your blinding beauty and rested his forehead against yours.

Sensing he needed time to gather his thoughts, you kissed him quickly before letting him calm down.

Peter pulled away slightly to look you in the eyes again, but he was caught in your trap once more. You were too effortlessly beautiful and perfect for him. How was he supposed to think properly when you were next to him?

You laughed. “Peter?”

“Marry me,” he whispered.

You blinked. Did he… “What?” you breathed.

“Please, marry me?”

You pulled away enough to look him in the eye and just as you did, Peter held your hands with one of his. The other hand dug into his pockets. “I had a better plan for this, I swear. I had 52 plans, actually. A letter corresponding to the day I wanted to ask you and 1 and 2 corresponding with the speech I wanted to say.” He pulled out a small velvet box. “I know this is a weird proposal. Today was the last day. I had to go with Plan Z1 or Z2, and I just couldn’t.

“You surprised me with breakfast, then we had a party. I was going to ask you during the movie but I just couldn’t, and I got nervous, and you’re not saying anything, and I get why you wouldn’t even think about-”

“Yes,” you whispered.

Peter held his breath. “What?”

You smiled. Images of white dresses and slow dances filled your head, but it was mostly filled with Peter. A whole life with Peter Parker, the love of your life. You would wake up in his embrace. You would come home to his smile. You would spend all the mundane moments together, and that sounded like the most extraordinary life you could wish for.

“I’ll marry you,” you said. You scooted closer to him. “I want to marry you, Peter Parker.”

He blinked so many times, his smile growing with each second. “I didn’t even say my entire speech.” He laughed and kissed you.

You laughed along with him, pulling him closer and closer until you could only feel him against you.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered against your lips.

You couldn’t say anything since he kissed you again, and when his lips were on yours, how were you supposed to think clearly? You were going to get married to the love of your life. What was the use of thoughts when the feeling of him was all you desired?

Peter pulled away. There were tears in his eyes, and his voice was shaky as he said, “The ring. I need to give that to you.”

You nodded with a smile.

Peter practically fell out of bed and got down on one knee. He opened the box where an elegant ring for you rested. “I can’t wait,” he admitted.

You nodded and held out your hand.

Peter slipped the ring onto your finger and kissed you again. You yelped when you fell against the bed, Peter’s lips never parting from yours. You shook your head and you pieced everything together. “That’s why” -you kissed him- “you were so uneasy?”

He nodded and kissed you again. “I was so nervous.”

“52 plans?”

“All for you.”

“That’s what was on your laptop.”

“Yep.”

You smiled and kissed him again. “You dork.”

“Your dork.” He kissed you. “And soon, your dork husband.”

Started with the idea of Peter kinda just blurting out that he wants to marry you and based on the fact that he would also have sooo many different plans on how to ask the big question. hope you guys enjoy and happy holidays!