#based off a post I saw forever ago about a running joke aliens made to mess with humans

[andejoe]

Alien: *looks at human crew* Edible. Inedible. Inedible.

The four humans share a look of confusion.

Human 1: alright, first of all, why am I the only edible one?

Human 2: why wasn’t human 4 on that list?

Human 4: yeah, am I edible or not?

Human 3: better question, why would you eat us? You’re a herbivore!

Alien: I’ll have you know my species has known to become omnivorous in times of crisis.

Human 2: ok, then where does human 4 land on that list?

Alien 2: human 4 is edible but poisonous so yeah you could eat them but they’d probably kill you for it.

Human 4: ha! I’m poisonous! Take that!

Human 1: this is completely arbitrary! There’s no biological difference between us. Why do you get to be poisonous!

Alien 1 and Alien 2 walk away to update the massive list of Edible or Not Humans. The joke must go on.

[lokimostly]

Sólo Para Amarte (Part 2)

Peter Parker x Reader

 Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N have been best friends for three years. When local trouble erupts and begins disrupting normal life- along with their close friendship -the secrets they both harbor come to light.

 Word Count: 2,376 

 Warnings: Spider-Man: Homecoming spoilers, injury 

 A/N: sorry this took forever!! I had to figure out the entirety of the plot for the series before I could continue. This chapter basically gives us a starting point, but things will really heat up after this. Love you guys! <3 

Edit: I fixed all of the errors/typos/italics that were present when I posted on mobile. Enjoy!

Series Discontinued.

Part One

 “History is not my favorite,” you grumbled, tapping at the keys aggressively. You shifted on the bottom bunk of Peter’s bed, your laptop resting precariously on your criss-crossed knees. Peter stopped looking out the window to lean down from the top bunk, half his body suspended in mid-air as he looked at you, upside down. The messy waves of his hair tickled your nose as he leaned over even further to get a look at the screen, the muscles in his arms flexed to keep him from falling. 

 You pulled back slightly so you wouldn't knock heads, watching his eyes flicker over the lines. Realizing you were staring, you quickly cleared your throat, biting your lip again so you wouldn't laugh as his hair tickled your nose. It smelled nice. 

 “So, you- you're, um, you're stuck?” He said finally, the habitual half-stammer in his voice making you smile slightly before nodding. 

 He reached a hand down to take the laptop and you gasped, pulling it away. “Hey! This is my baby!”

 Peter laughed, making another attempt to grab the computer, which you dodged easily. 

 “I-I'll be careful,” he promised with exaggerated solemnity, crossing his arms and stroking his chin with one finger. You raised your eyebrow. 

 “Is that supposed to make you look intelligent or something? It's not working.”

Peter scoffed and uncrossed his arms, gesturing widely. “C’mon, just lemme see.”

 “No, just tell me what to write,” you responded with equal stubbornness, holding the laptop between your knees and chest. He narrowed his eyes at you, and you stuck out your tongue in response. 

 Peter laughed, taking it as a challenge. “Oh, you asked for it.” He flipped down and you laughed, jumping up to make a break for the door. You got halfway across the small space before two strong arms lifted you up by the waist. You gave a shriek as he dropped you on the bed and landed over you, laughing as he made half-effort grabs for it. 

 “Nooo,” you wailed, twisting onto your side. “You can’t have it!”

 “Oh, yeah?” he asked, pouncing on you and tickling your sides. You shrieked, wriggling as you tried to escape, but he had you trapped in between his legs. Finally one of your knees flew up and landed a hit to his chest. Peter gasped and fell back, one arm going to his ribs, laughing breathlessly. “Seriously?” 

You laughed, out of breath as you rubbed your sore sides. “You deserved it.” 

You saw his brown eyes crinkle as he chuckled. Suddenly you noticed the way he was resting over you, one leg between yours, a thin sheen of sweat on his visible skin as his chest heaved. Peter took his hand off his ribs and rested it on your knee without thinking, his eyes catching yours and giving you a confused look. “What?”

 The bedroom door opened as May stuck her head in. Her eyes met yours and she raised her eyebrows, quickly looking over the two of you, her eyebrows falling in an expression of sarcasm. 

 “So, uh, how’s studying?” 

 You slid up quickly, embarrassed as you tucked your knees to your chest, trying to get the image of Peter leaning over you out of your head. Peter’s mouth opened and he looked back at you, color rising to his cheeks. “Oh-” he stood up quickly, hitting his head on the top bunk. Your eyes widened as he laughed embarrassedly, one hand on his head as he stepped out more carefully onto the floor. “Sorry, May,” he offered, trying his best to look apologetic.

“Actually…” you interjected before May could speak, “It’s… it’s late. I should probably go home.” You smiled quickly, relieved when Peter’s aunt simply nodded. 

 “Sounds like a good idea. It’ll be dark in about an hour, so you-” she pointed a long finger at her nephew “-will hurry home.”

 The conversation between them continued, but you were only half listening as you slid your laptop into your bag, zipping it as the door closed. Peter watched as you straightened, your hair mussed from the play-fight, while you looked around for your jacket. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and walked over to the closet, grabbing a hoodie and a large, grey sweater of his own

. “You can borrow mine,” he offered, walking over to you and holding it out. You exhaled softly, watching his eyes as you took it. “Are you just saying that because you know it’s my favorite?”

 He chuckled, and a wave of relief came over you. The two of you were still okay.

 “Uh, as long- as long as you bring it back, I don’t care what you borrow. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

 You laughed and shook your head, taking the sweater and giving him a soft punch to the shoulder before sliding it over your head. “Gracias. Let’s go.”

 ~ 

 You slid your key into the lock of the glass door, twisting it until you heard the click. 

 “Think you can steal me a sandwich?” Peter joked, and you looked at him incredulously, scoffing. 

 “You’re funny.” 

 “Well, I-I mean, I try,” he admitted, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. You watched as his eyes flickered around the street, distracted, and you wondered what he was looking for. 

“I’ll finish the project tonight, okay?” You asked, trying to draw him out of his thoughts. He nodded absently, tongue between his teeth before he turned to you and smiled. “And you’ll text me, right?” 

 “I always do,” you responded, tapping his nose. He laughed, grabbing your hand to pull you into a quick hug. The smell of him was welcome and familiar; fresh and clean, with a vague, spiced pine to it. 

 Peter pulled away too soon for your liking and gave you a smile as he put his hands in his pockets. “Don’t let your dad drive you crazy.” 

 You laughed. “Hey, now, I’ve got nothing but love for my padre.” Impulsively, you grabbed his sleeve to look at him pointedly before he could step away. “Stay safe?” 

 “I always do,” he mimicked, invoking a quiet laugh as you opened the shop door. You stepped inside, the familiar smell of the deli-grocery greeting you. When you looked out the wide windows, he was gone. 

You closed the door gently and locked it, your free hand around the bells to keep them from jingling. Turning to the inside of the shop, you walked behind the counter and rummaged in the drawers for a candy bar. If you were going to finish this project, you’d need some energy to keep you up. 

Murph leapt onto the counter silently, making you jump in surprise before sighing and reaching over to pick her up. The light had already faded in the windows - it felt like evening only a minute ago. Now it might as well have been half-past eleven.

 You ran your fingers through Murph’s long fur, finding a Hershey’s in the drawer with your other hand. Pulling it out and closing the drawer gently, your eyes glanced up at the ceiling, conscious of your family sleeping above you. The drawer clicked shut and you moved to head up when there was a noise from the stairs. 

 Delmar stepped down the stairs, one hand against the frame, and studied you quietly. You shifted Murph slightly in your arms, waiting for him to speak. 

 “So you’re home,” he said finally. His voice was tired, but you wouldn’t have known if you’d only looked at him. 

“He didn’t offer to let you stay?” 

 “I wanted to come home. I’m tired,” you clarified quietly, walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He grunted and squeezed your shoulder in return, before leaving you at the base of the stairs and walking behind the counter, rummaging through the drawers himself. Like father, like daughter, you caught yourself thinking, and a smile quirked your lips. 

“Hija, do you think he’s handsome?” 

 Your train of thought came to a screeching thought and you felt your face flush slightly. The image of Peter leaning over you flashed through your head and you inhaled quickly. 

 “Only a little,” you admitted. It occurred to you that it may have been your biggest understatement to date. 

He nodded, looking up at you with deep eyes, and your faint smile dropped. Your fingers stopped running through Murph’s fur. Suddenly your father seemed much older. 

 “Be careful, pequeña. Please,” he pleaded. You nodded quickly. “I won’t get hurt, papá,” you responded softly. “I promise.” 

 A sudden rumble shook the floor of the shop and you stumbled, the cat leaping from your arms as you turned, bewildered, to stare at the bank across the street. Your father’s mouth was quicker than your own, speaking your thoughts out loud. “What the hell?” 

 You moved slowly towards the window, your eyes growing wider as you began to realize what you were seeing. It was the spider-man from youtube, and he was … actually stopping a bank robbery. Your mouth opened as you watched him, vaguely aware of your father’s voice behind the counter. 

 “...Spider-Man is fighting ...the Avengers… in a bank on 21st street?” 

Suddenly a huge laser erupted through the wall of the bank and you shrieked, stumbling away from the window and falling against one of the food stands. 

Across the street, Peter watched in horror as the alien laser ripped through the deli, the windows shattering, concrete collapsing like clay into heaps, igniting a wall of flame. 

 He swung over, abandoning the robbers without thinking, leaping into the demolished building. Smoke was rising, clouding his vision as he stood in the middle of the debris, searching frantically. 

 “Mr. Delmar?! Is anyone in here?!” 

 A coughed response came from the register and Peter leapt over it, waving away the smoke in front of his face and reaching for Delmar’s hand. He hauled him up, sliding off the counter to support him on his shoulders. Murph passed between Peter’s legs and he reached down quickly, picking up the cat and putting her in Delmar’s arms. “Let’s go! C’mon!” 

 Peter hauled the man out of the rubble, guilt ripping at his heart as Delmar coughed and spluttered. This is my fault. He leaned Delmar up against the pole outside, making sure he could stand before stepping away and taking a second to look at the bank. The robbers were gone. He put a hand on his head, heart hammering anxiously. This was not going how he’d planned...  

“My daughter…” 

 His speeding heart came to a complete stop. No. No- 

 “She’s… she’s in there,” Delmar managed, coughing again. 

Without a word, Peter ran inside, his pulse kicking up again as he tried to make out your familiar figure. The flames were climbing steadily. Smoke crowded against the ceiling, pouring out of the broken walls. He dropped to his knees beneath the smoke, looking for you, his breath coming out ragged and heavy with panic through the mask. Please. Please, please– 

 A hand under the rubble. Peter shoved a piece of rubble out of the way and began digging you out of the pile. He swore under his breath as he tried to control his shaking hands, praying to whoever was listening, asking for you to be okay.

 Peter lifted a fallen wire stand up, uncovering the arm protected your face. You were motionless. Ignoring the growing heat against his back, he reached down and pulled you out from under the dust, curled over you, hands on your cheeks.

 “Hey, are you awake?! Wake up!!” 

 Seconds felt like hours. Time seemed to freeze inside the burning deli, the pouring smoke slowing like summer clouds, leaping fires turning to lazy candle flames. The hands stood still, paralyzing Peter’s heart for an infinite moment, until he pressed his forehead to yours. And you stirred. 

Peter let out a shaking gasp. Relieved tears dampened the inside of his mask as he lifted you up quickly, each drowsy movement from you sending him soaring. You'd be okay. 

 You could feel the world coming back into focus— slowly, and then all at once. The screaming pain from your head, legs, and myriad injuries drew an immediate gasp of pain from your lips. “Oh my god-” 

 “Don’t-don't move,” Peter interrupted quickly. He looked up, coming back to reality in an instant. You had to get out of here. 

 You blinked repeatedly, your eyes slowly coming back into focus. You felt like you'd been hit by a semi. You blinked again, a frown crossing your face as the stranger lifted you up like you weighed nothing. Either their skin was a deep, scarlet red, or you were very concussed. 

 Your senses seemed to come back one-by-one; the ringing in your ears stopped gradually as you began to detect the acrid smells of burning hair, smoke, and… Peter? No. This wasn't Peter, it was just the smell of his jacket on your shoulders. Then who…?

 Your eyes slowly trailed up the patterns against the skin of the person carrying you out of the ruined deli. Only- oh. It was a suit. Your bleary vision found his face and the breath left your lungs. 

 “You-- you’re-” your breath shuddered and you coughed. “You’re the spider-man.” 

 The spider-man nodded, making you frown again. “But… the bank…” your brain was moving too slowly. There were too many questions. 

Before you knew what was going on, you were being set down on the pavement, leaned against your father. Delmar’s and Peter’s- no, you correct yourself, spider-man’s- voices were dissolving into the sound of sirens. You watched as he turned, and your hand found his wrist before you knew what you wanted to say. “Wait!” 

He turned, the eyes on his mask somehow expressing surprise as he waited for your reply. You could feel his pulse through his suit. Was it that fast all the time?

“Thank you,” you said stupidly, watching him nod. He withdrew his hand, nodding again. Staring at you– probably because you couldn't pull your eyes off him, either. 

Then you heard his voice again: “A-anytime. I —I gotta go.” And he was gone.